Clueless

Changing house.

2010-12-19T20:13:00.003+08:00

I've moved! Come visit me at my new home, and update your blogrolls, please! :)

Home Sweet Home

2010-02-02T21:49:00.007+08:00

A few days ago, I got my Singapore Permanent Resident card. It's a funny feeling, having a card that says you're a permanent resident of a country you've only been living in for 4 years. In a silly sort of way, it feels like you're betraying your home country. Like you're saying your home country isn't good enough for you to be a "permanent resident" of. Then again, my passport is still Indian, so I justify to myself that that is the most "permanent" of all things anyway, so it really doesn't matter that I live elsewhere.

This sort of dual identity leads to funny situations. Like longing for home and Mom's cooking and Indian TV channels when you're in Singapore, and then getting jittery when you're actually back home because you've gotten so used to the Singaporean way of life that you can't really re-adjust to the noise and pollution of India. Your immune system finally goes out of whack, so when you go home and binge on food that would usually not do you any harm, your stomach reacts unfavourably because, as your relatives remind you, "Your body is no longer Indian; you have to remember these things before you go eating and drinking stuff you can't handle!". You start converting things to rupees when you shop in Singapore, and do the exact opposite when you're in India. You complain about the difficulty of owning a car in Singapore, and then complain about the state of public transport in India. You want the best of both worlds, but all you ever do is complain about what you don't have in either country.

It used to happen all the time in my first few years in Singapore that whenever I said, "I'm going home", people would immediately thinking I was talking about my India home, when actually I just meant "my room in the hostel". I guess I was liberal with the word, because most of my Indian batchmates reserved it for India, which was the only thing worthy of being called "home".

I still don't know what exactly makes something "home". Is it where you go at the end of the day to cook your meals and go to bed? Or is it the place you've spent most of your life at? What if you shuttled around from place to place, and never really stayed in one place longer than a few years? Is it where you hang up your "home sweet home" banner? Is it only home if if your family lives with you? Do housemates not count? Will you ever be able to spend 18 years of your life in one country and call another home? What does Daughtry mean when he says "I'm going home, to the place where I belong"? Where do I belong?

I live in Singapore and I work for the Singapore Government. I teach Singaporean kids, and I have Singaporean friends. Every morning in school, I sing the national anthem and say the pledge. People ask me why I do it if I'm not a citizen, but I don't see why not. The concept of "dual citizenship" may not apply to me in theory, but I do believe in it from a practical point of view. I can't stay in a country and study in it and work for it without actually believing it to be my home. At the same time, I can't forget the place I grew up in, the country I spent most of my years in (and this will be true until I'm at least 37) and the country that houses my parents.

I don't know where the future will take me. I might go back to India, I might stay in Singapore. I might even go somewhere else. It doesn't really matter. You make a place in your heart for every single place you set up camp in, and you treat every single one like home. Because when you're home, you're happy, and isn't the ultimate goal in life to be happy wherever you go?

Home really is where the heart is. There's just a little piece of my heart in every place I've lived.

Aal Izz (Predictably) Well!

2009-12-30T00:27:00.011+08:00

I just realized it's been AGES since I last did a review for a movie here on this blog, and having just come fresh off a viewing of '3 Idiots' in the theatre, I guess there's no better time than this to get cracking. Usual spoiler warnings apply!

+ Aamir Khan once again tries to send across the message of revolutionizing the education system in our country. Whether or not it works in real life, one has to applaud him for the effort, at the very least.

+ The three idiots are good, and their chemistry is believable, but the job could have been done with a younger cast.

+ "Aal Izz Well" sounds stupid at first, with the ridiculous accent and the spelling and the over-usage of it in the trailers (I get that each movie has a "catch song", but there's really a fine line between catchy and annoying), but in context, it's actually pretty hilarious. The lyrics to the song are super-funny as well.

+ Only Boman Irani could play a caricatural role - his Viru Sahastrabuddhe, ~~fondly~~ referred to as "Virus" by his students, speaks with a lisp, wears his pants too high, imitates Einstein's hairstyle, takes 7.5 minute naps (in which he gets mundane work done for him, like shaving) and generally terrorizes his students - and make it genuine. A+!

+ Not everyone has that talent, unfortunately. Pia's fiance is hopelessly exaggerated, and Chatur "Silencer" Ramalingam comes close to being annoying, but a few zingers here and there save him from Suhas's fate.

+ Kareena Kapoor does a decent job as Pia. Nothing earth-shattering (a la "Jab We Met"), but nothing to complain about either.

+ Madhavan's glory days are gone, methinks, at least looks-wise, and I don't get the point of making him a Qureshi, when he so obviously doesn't look it. Sharman Joshi is a lot more pleasing to the eye, but I could have been spared the torture of seeing both of them in nothing but underwear. *shudders*

+ "Millimeter" is criminally underused, but both the actors who play him (young and old) get a solid thumbs-up. Refreshing, funny and completely natural.

+ The setting of all of Raju's home scenes in black-and-white, with sad '50s music playing in the background, is truly inspired. At times, I felt inclined to be appalled at the mocking of a truly serious situation, but I couldn't help laughing either.

+ I'd have been fine with Rancho/Chhote being only a school teacher (there's a message there about money not being the only/absolute measure of success), but the Phunsukh Wangdu ending is icing on the cake because of its sheer brilliance.

+ Some of the jokes fall flat because they've been circulating the internet for ages, but every now and then, there's a comedy gem to mask the not-so-funny stuff. There were several bits that had me howling with laughter, and that's always a good thing.

+ There are the usual Bollywood cliches that could've been avoided - the now obligatory kiss between the leads (see what you've started, Emraan Hashmi?!) and the almost-wedding scenario are just two examples. The movie also toes the line with the melodramatic pregnancy plot, but I guess it was there to prove a point, so we can ignore it. The predictability factor is high, though, with very few "twists" that are genuinely surprising or unexpected. (P. Wangdu was a happy exception, at least for me.)

+ The borrowing of material from "Five Point Someone" ... that's where things get kinda so-so for me. I think the film would've worked fine with a normal script, but the insertion of random events from the book make it a bumpy ride. Emotional rollercoasters are fine, but this one seemed a little too all over the place for me.

+ Kudos to the team, however, for not resorting to European locations for beautiful scenery. The Ladakh and Simla parts were particularly gorgeous, and it was nice to see them actually fit into the plot.

+ I feel justified in making a comparison to "Dil Chahta Hai", considering the movie itself invites it, what with the similar set-up of two friends searching/waiting for the third in the present, and the rest of the story being told in flashbacks. I'm afraid DCH has spoilt all of us as far as friendship-of-3-guys scenarios go. Those guys had their flaws, but their friendship seemed natural and effortless. That reunion scene in the hospital, where Akash and Sid make-up and hug each other ... that sense of relief and closure and that level of emotion is never reached in "3 Idiots".

All said and done, it was entertaining and it sent across a good message. I'd definitely recommend at least a one-time watch, particularly if you're a fan of college comedies. Just don't go in expecting JWM or DCH, and you should be come out satisfied.

Automan, Automan, friendly neighbourhood Automan!

2009-12-12T20:28:00.003+08:00

Dear Automan,

Today is a special day. I wouldn't have remembered at all, but my grandmother reminded me. Indirectly, of course, but it was her switching on the TV and setting it to Sun TV that directed my attention to the loud advertisement for "Padaiyappa" in the first place. One of Rajni Kanth's most famous movies to celebrate his whateverth birthday. And as I was rolling my eyes at the unreasonable love people of the South seem to have for him (let's ignore my similarly irrational love for SRK here, shall we?), I was reminded instantly of you.

You, and your love for 'The King', as you called him. I remember when you went to watch the first day, first show of "Baba" when it was released, at an insane 5 or 6 in the morning. You picked us up for school that morning, so incredibly excited that you had watched your idol in action after such a long time. You wouldn't stop making the \m/ sign for AGES. I remember rolling my eyes then, too.

I think I was too young back then to appreciate your presence in my life, but now that I'm back in the same town 6 and a half years after leaving it, I see things a lot more clearly. Back then, you were just the man who picked me (and several other girls) up for school every morning and dropped us back every evening, nothing more. Now, thinking about it, you were so much more.

You were the man who waited patiently every evening as I sat in the library after school, picking books to take back home with me. You were the man who agreed to take me on the second trip home, even though it would be out of the way then, just because I needed a little more time to finish the chapter of the Harry Potter book I had started and was too engrossed in to put down and go home. You were the man who used to entertain us with funny stories on the way to and back from school, the man whose auto was always full of laughing girls. You made sure I got my preferred seat in the auto when I reached the right age ('seniority', we called it), and that one day when I fell down and injured myself on the grounds after school, you took extra care to make sure I was okay and got home safe.

You even gave me a nickname that caught on so quickly, I was called nothing but that in school for the next five years. Of course, you didn't mean for it to be a nickname, but the funny way you pronounced my name, combined with the fact that you always added "ma" to our names out of respect, even though we were less than half your age, made sure of it anyway. I bet the girls at my school remember me by that name even now, even if they don't remember how exactly it originated.

I don't exactly miss my school life, but I can't deny that some of my best school years were spent here in this town. And you were a big part of them, whether or not you realized it.

I don't know where you are now or what you're doing. You might have won the lottery, for all I know, and gone away to live peacefully in a big mansion on the outskirts of the city. And yet, I can't help looking out the window of the car whenever I'm passing by the school, just to check whether you're among the many automen waiting in line to pick a new bunch of students up and drop them off home. I haven't caught sight of you so far, but I hope that if I ever do, you'll remember me as fondly as I remember you.

Happy birthday, Automan. I don't know how old you turn today. For that matter, I don't even remember your name - you will always be "Automan" to me. But wherever you are, and whatever you're doing, I hope you're happy. And I hope you're still as big a fan of Rajni Kanth as you were back then.

Nostalgically,
Me.

Onward!

2009-12-10T18:57:00.000+08:00

I've been thinking about what to write in this post ever since I published the last one - that makes it about 5 weeks now, wow - because I've been at an utter loss as to how exactly (if at all) I should celebrate my 100th post on this blog. On one hand, I can say "I wrote a HUNDRED posts on my blog" with much pride and joy. On the other, I'd have to complete that sentence with "... and it only took me four and a half years to get there", which is slightly embarrassing, and proof of the laziness I try so hard to hide otherwise.

But like it often happens, I only grew more confused the more I thought about it. Which is why it is so amusing that the idea for what to write in this post came to me today as I was in the bathroom (all great ideas originate there, just ask Archimedes) in a single word.

Onward.

The word holds significance to me on two levels. It reminds me, first and foremost, of the motto of the school I have been working in these past four months. It never really meant much as long as I was working there, but now that I've left, poised on the brink of what can be called the actual start of my working career (training to become a proper teacher), it resounds with me much more. I joined the profession not knowing if this was indeed my calling. I still don't know, but when a bunch of students from one of the classes I handled for the few months I was in the school came up to me on the last day and hand-delivered a big banner filled with photos of themselves (apparently so I wouldn't forget them) and lots of post-it notes thanking me for being their teacher and asking me to come back to the school next year, I figured I was doing a good enough job to give it a try. A real, proper shot. My first ever stint as a teacher might not have given me much by way of pedagogy or teaching tactics, but it did give me the motivation to go forward in this line of work, and I owe that to the school. Onward, indeed.

On another level, the word shows me where I need to go now that I've reached the first (significant) landmark in terms of this blog and writing. I might often get lazy, and might "give up" on the blog with the frequently used excuse of not having the time, or (worse) not having things to write about, but it is always on my mind, and some day or the other, I WILL come back to it to pour my heart out. This blog grows with me, and matures as I do, literally changing in front of my eyes. (I cringe when I look at my older posts ... I can't believe I used to write like that! I often have to curb the instinct to go back and edit all of them to suit my tastes now.) As I move forever onward, so does this little corner of the web.

This post is therefore dedicated to two sets of people. One, my students at the school, for giving me a real, honest shot at the job I've chosen, and two, the wonderful people who read this blog religiously and take it upon themselves to constantly poke and prod me when I neglect it for long periods of time. You know who you are. I couldn't ask for a better audience.

Happy 100th post, blog. Onward!

Morning, sunshine!

2009-10-31T14:11:00.006+08:00

I've never been an early bird. Like, NEVER. Even when I was a kid, and I was the most obedient thing on the planet, waking up early was the one thing no one could get me to do regularly. I still remember the times my father used to yank me out of bed and throw me straight into the bathroom in an effort to get me to wake up and finish my morning duties in time for school. I even remember that one time my parents tried waking me numerous times to no avail, before giving up and realizing they needed to teach me a lesson. I didn't go to school that day because I woke up at 12 in the afternoon. It was only after a lot of pleading and crying that my parents agreed to write me a leave letter that didn't say I had missed class because I woke up late. Ah, good times.

And then university life came along, and what a blessing that turned out to be. No more waking up early every morning unless I had a class. Even then, my friends were around to give me missed calls, or in more desperate cases, bang my door down until I woke up. (Oh, they can tell many, many stories about trying to wake me up!) Life was blissful, and I never saw a single sunrise for the four years that I spent in university. (Unless, of course, I was staying up late, which is another thing altogether.)

And then university life was over, and it was time to get a job. I happily applied to become a teacher, and got in, not realizing what exactly was in store for me. I knew schools started early, but I wasn't quite aware of just how early "early" really was, until I started working proper. I woke up extra-early the first day, but then as time wore on, it hit me that "extra-early" was going to have to become "normal" for me very soon.

And now, here I am. I've been working for four months now, and every day, I wake up at unearthly hours to get ready and travel to school. I bathe and dress in the dark, because the sun has usually not yet risen and I don't want to wake my roommate up. The girl who used to sleep at 2 every ~~night~~ morning, has been reduced to going to bed at 10.30 every night (oh, the horror!) in order to get enough sleep to wake up on time in the morning.

Since the academic year is now drawing to a close, and school has officially closed down, the teachers get to come slightly later than usual these days. A few days ago, as I was getting ready to leave the house, I looked out the window and saw the most gorgeous view (I live on the 12th floor, so the view is good) I have seen in quite a while. The sky was a beautiful blue, tinged with pink and purple, and I could literally see the rays of the sun (distinct, separate bands) spreading out over a vast expanse. It was the kind of thing children draw when they're asked to depict a sunrise, except it was real and absolutely breathtaking. I tried to take a picture, but my camera batteries chose that exact time to die on me. I resorted to my phone as a last attempt, but a picture taken on a phone can never do the real thing justice, can it?

I woke up at around the same time for the next few days, camera batteries charged, in order to catch a repeat telecast, but luck was not on my side. I guess the sun rose earlier than usual that day, or for once, the sky was clear enough of rain clouds to be able to actually see the sunrise, because it was never quite the same after that. I still hope to one day catch that amazing spectacle, but I'm not sure when that day will be.

As I ponder my ill-fate, however, I realize this: I miss the freakin' sunrise every morning because I get up and leave for work way too early to catch it. Whoever thought THAT day would come, huh?

Airport Assault

2009-06-11T10:48:00.004+08:00

I guess it shouldn't take a genius to realize that if you go around leaving comments in people's blogs saying "With friends like these, who needs enemies?", chances are good that the aforementioned "friends" will make sure to confirm your statement with a personal gesture.

For those wondering, that ugly garland looks as ugly as ever. I have to give props to the banner though, which said "The Clueless Graduate". I realize that it makes my graduate status sound not-so-great (which, hey! I graduated with an honours degree AND a minor!), but since it is at least partially true, I can appreciate the punning.

Anyway, moral of the story? Always think before you speak (or type). *smacks self*

ETA: The banner.

Leaving On A Jet Plane (But Not Thrilled About It)

2009-06-08T23:15:00.007+08:00

After hours of mulling over the topic (hours that could've been spent reading an absorbing novel had yours truly not forgotten to carry one along on a recent train journey from Coimbatore to Chennai), I have come to the conclusion that I much prefer travelling by train to flying. I realize that there are many advantages to flying, like reaching your destination quickly, cleanliness and ... well, I can't think of any other significant ones, but you get the picture. Flying is generally considered a more convenient way to travel (if you're young and healthy, that is) than taking a train.

But, having journeyed using both modes of travel several times, I must admit that I enjoy trains much more than I do flights. One might think this is merely because I've travelled by trains much more than I have by planes, but every time I've flown between Singapore and India in the past four years (and this was often), I've had it reinforced that I don't really enjoy flying the way most people (who aren't businessmen and women) seem to.

One sure reason for this is that I frequently fall prey to runny noses. (I'm going somewhere with this, trust me.) And when you fly with a cold, your ears tend to get blocked. And blocked ears can get very painful. Not to mention uncomfortable, considering they can last for days after you've landed. I've suffered through quite a few of these painful ear blockages, so I'm very thankful for the fact that no such problem can arise when you're travelling by train.

But that's just one reason. The main reason, I think, is that I have very fond memories of train journeys. I've taken so many over the duration of my life, and for so many reasons, that I obviously cannot remember every single one. But I do remember specific ones, and that's more than I can say for the flights I've taken, of which I don't remember any with particular affection or emotion (except probably the Jet Airways one in which I found that they were offering entertainment - on par with or even better than, one might say, Singapore Airlines - when I was least expecting it and had prepared myself for nothing at all, but that's superficial).

The train journeys, however, have special memories attached to them. Like the monthly weekend trips I used to make from Coimbatore to Chennai for a whole year to keep my monthly appointments with the dentist. (She had to tighten my braces.) I used to travel alone (mostly) in day trains, sitting by the window for 8 hours each way. My parents would drop me off, often asking some nice-looking fellow passenger to take care of me, and my uncle and aunt would pick me up at the other end, thanking said passenger for taking care of me.

And there was always some kindly passenger who'd take on that daunty task of watching out for the 14 year old kid travelling alone. Not that I was a difficult child, mind you. I minded my own business, never gave anyone trouble. But my guardians for the day would often go out of their way to ensure that they were doing their job right, offering me food, drinks and entertainment. I remember this one girl (she must have been in her early 20s then) who gave me her copy of Sidney Sheldon's "Rage of Angels" to read during the journey and told me to keep it because I hadn't finished it by the time we reached our destination. (Never mind the fact that the book contributed to my prejudiced dislike of Sheldon in general - it's the thought that counts.) These people always took care of me and made me feel like I was less alone for those 8 hours.

Then there were the fun, family outings that required big bunches of us to travel by train. My extended family and I (11 in total, 5 of whom were kids) once travelled all the way from Chennai to Jaipur by train and it was one of the most enjoyable journeys I ever remember making. We had a day and more on the train, and two compartments all to ourselves, so we made full use of it. We kids moved around in whatever space we could find inside those two compartmets, the elders chatted away to glory and we all occasionally came together to play card games, which almost always resulted in us kids winning spectacularly. We were on that trip for at least 2 weeks, but whenever I think about it, the thing I remember most is that first train journey we took together. I'm not even in frequent touch with those cousins anymore, but I don't think I'll ever forget the journey itself.

And of course, who can forget those school excursions? Having missed one in 8th standard to Chennai, I was determined not to let the big 10th standard excursion to Bombay and Goa go. Again, I can say assuredly that I had more fun on the train journeys to and back from that excursion than I did sight-seeing. You just don't have that kind of fun anywhere else, you know? Singing loudly at the top of your voices, deciding on who gets to sleep in which berth, waking everyone up at the crack of dawn just for fun, sharing gossip, complaining about having to wear the school uniform on the platform but rejoicing upon being allowed to change into casuals upon leaving, getting told off by the teachers or even just sitting silently with each other on the journey back after having drained yourselves out during the trip itself ... it's all part of that cherished experience of travelling by train.

When I take the train these days, I remember the good times. It doesn't matter if I don't have anything to occupy myself with, or if the most interesting thing I can think of doing is reading the paper from cover to cover. I still feel happy because I remember how many happy journeys I've undertaken, and I wish for many more like those.

Tomorrow, I leave for Singapore after three weeks of fun with the family. I wish there was a way one could take a train across the ocean, but since there isn't, I'll have to make-do with another mediocre flight journey. I can only hope that my nose decides to stay clear and healthy, at least till I reach my destination. I don't think I can stand another pesky ear block.

You live, you learn.

2009-05-21T23:23:00.002+08:00

I'm done with university. Well, I still have to get my results, but assuming I pass all my subjects (all limbs crossed), that's it. The end of four years of education. And if someone asked me to describe these four years in one word, I'd probably go with "educational". But I'd be talking about a completely different kind of education, the kind that doesn't come from lectures or books or even teachers. The kind that you learn yourself, as a consequence of things that happen around you.

When I left for Singapore four years ago, I was a bright-eyed young gal looking forward to a life of freedom. Freedom from restrictions, from the monotony of school life, from authority. It gave me an enormous thrill to think that I'd be able to live my life without anybody telling me how to live it. No more getting told what to do, what to eat, when to sleep, how to study. I could do everything as I wanted to, and it was a freedom I cherished.

I've spent a wonderful four years at college. I've done what I wanted to do, eaten what I wanted to eat, slept as I pleased (pulled all-nighters that would never have been possible at home), studied the way I chose to. But looking back, I can say without a doubt that none of those things are the things I'm most happy about at the end of four years away from home. Sure, they're things I couldn't have done at home, and sure, they brought me and my friends countless hours of pleasure.

But the thing I'm most pleased and satisfied with is how much I've learned over this duration. And I don't mean bookish knowledge by any means. I've studied many subjects in my time at university, and many of them have had overlapping information, but I'm pretty sure that a few months down the line, I won't remember most of it. In fact, my poor brain has to take a few minutes to even remember what subjects I did in my first year. I did well in school, and I did reasonably well in university too, but my retention level is pathetic.

So what I've "learned" has nothing to do with studies. No, it's life lessons. And I know it sounds corny, but I feel like I've grown so much in these years. I've learned about other people, yes, but I've learned the most about myself. It all sounds abstract and vague, but I mean it when I say that I know myself much better now than I did four years ago. And I don't mean trivial stuff like what movies I like or what kind of music I enjoy. That sort of stuff is subject to change. In my case, it changes so often, there's never a right answer.

What I do mean is that I've learned to stop and think. About everything. To make the best of a situation, to consciously focus on the positive side of things, to let things go. To not judge, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to keep myself happy. I've learned to learn. From events in my life, from events in others'. I've learned that a little bit of introspection does a great deal of help. I've learned that it never hurts to take some time off to think about something and reach a logical conclusion. I've learned that it always pays to take the higher road. That being the bigger person doesn't mean you're letting yourself get pushed around. That you can stand your ground and still be selfless. That it's always possible to find the good in someone. Most people prefer the tortured, angsty superhero to the one with a heart of gold, but what makes Superman so much more appealing to me than Batman is that he always chooses to see the best in people. (Way to make a point with a comic book example, huh? *facepalm*)

I know how it sounds. What's new about all this? This is the kind of stuff you know instinctively, right? Maybe. Maybe some people are born with this knowledge. Maybe they know how to make all the right decisions automatically, to act the right way, to do the right thing. I thought I knew this stuff. I realized through these four years that I didn't. But I also learned that you can learn this stuff. You learn from experience. The things that happen in your life happen for a reason. And I don't mean that in a "destiny"/"fate" kind of thing, just that the things that happen to you, good or bad, teach you. You always learn. You don't have to be in school or college to learn something. You learn things simply by virtue of living life.

"You live, you learn." Ms Morissette clearly knew her stuff, but it took me these four years to figure out what exactly she was talking about.

Yehi Hai Right Choice Baby ... Aha?

2009-05-04T21:40:00.005+08:00

So I went to write my English Proficiency Test today, in order to qualify for entrance to the National Institute of Education where I will train to become a teacher. I wasn't particularly worried. I mean, I wrote a qualifying test before entering university, I've been studying for the past 4 years here and I'm pursuing a minor in English Studies. An English test should be no biggie, right?

Right. Well, almost. The paper was mostly fine, but there were a few tricky ones here and there. Questions that made me stop and think for a while ... the stuff that makes you doubt yourself. You know, like whether you should use "principal" or "principle" in a particular sentence or "discrete" or "discreet". These things should be a piece of cake, but they're the sort of words that suddenly crop up in the "I'm not so sure" list, even though deep down, you probably know the right answer.

But there was one question that had me stumped for a while. For you grammar aficionados out there (and wow, did not know that 'aficionado' had just one 'f' till just now ... thank you, Firefox dictionary!), this was the question:

"Either you or I [is/am/are] to blame." (Choose the right option.)

So there I was, trying to figure out just which one of these words was correct. I said the line in my head again and again, each time using a different option. You know how when you say something over and over again, a particular word/phrase/sentence starts to sound totally alien? Yeah, that happened. So I just went on to the other questions and came back to this one in the end, hoping that by some miracle, I would arrive at the answer if I looked at it with a fresh mind. No such luck. I must've looked like an idiot in the examination hall, because I screwed up my face in every possible way, hoping that using the right intonation in my head (which ended up showing on my face) would make it easier for me to hit upon the right answer. Again, no luck.

I was getting frustrated. Obviously, one of the options was the right answer, but none of them sounded correct to me. It didn't fit. When I said the sentence with any of the options given, I didn't feel that sense of satisfaction. I've almost always worked out grammar this way - if it doesn't sound right in your head, it probably isn't. I trust my instinct. And here I was, three options in front of me, none of them sounding even remotely like the correct answer. What was I supposed to do? What was the right choice? What do you do when your instinct doesn't tell you anything, or worse, keeps insisting that none of the options are the right answer? Ultimately, I just picked one based on some weird logic that I can't even remember now. All I know was that I wasn't satisfied with it.

It got me thinking. What happens when a question pops up in life, and there are only a few valid choices you can make, but nothing feels correct? You know that the answer lies in the options you have in front of you, but you don't feel like any of them is the ideal solution. None of them fit. You imagine your life with the solution fit in, and it doesn't feel right. What then? How do you choose? What helps you make the "right" decision?

Or is that the beauty of life? That there are no right or wrong decisions, just decisions and what you make of them? I do hope so. :)

(Hello, blogging world! *waves frantically*)

Friends Forever

2008-11-07T22:50:00.007+08:00

I'm not addicted to Facebook. Unlike a lot of people I know, I seem to have avoided that particular bug quite successfully. I don't spend hours of my life looking through other people's photo albums, nor do I go around doing even more pointless things like poking people or throwing sheep at them, as fun as they may seem. I guess one of the reasons is that I don't really have the time (I can already hear the groans!), but mostly, I'm just not as fascinated by Facebook as most people seem to be. In fact, the sheer number of things you can do on it sort of overwhelms me.

Sure, it's a great way to keep in touch with friends. If you take the initiative, that is. I'm afraid I'm just one of those people terrible at communication when it's not face to face. I take ages to reply to mails, and I'm hopeless at instant stuff like Facebook or Orkut. I'd like to blame my genes (my brother suffers from the same condition, except he's not that great at the face-to-face stuff either, heh), but I guess if I want to be really honest, there's no one to blame but me. Everytime I get a notification in my mail about something happening on Facebook, I just make a mental note (that I promptly forget), delete the mail (I'm picky about keeping only the important stuff in my inbox) and move on. Then one fine day, my guilty subconscious will ~~superpoke~~ poke me, and I'll venture into the Facebook world so I can attend to my business and be done with it. Clean slate, and all that.

Today was one of those days. And while "attending to my business", I just happened to take a stroll around. Just killing time, I guess. ~~And I say I don't have time to blog, pffft.~~ I chanced upon the photo album of a friend I'd known from my school days. She had a black and white picture that she'd titled "the best times". I went and took a peek, and there they were. A dozen or so school friends, all smiling back at me. The photo was obviously taken at a reunion of some sort, because while some of them still looked the same, many of them had changed visibly from when we'd parted ways.

And just like that, it all came rushing back to me. Memories, tons of them. The grey school building. Maroon and white uniforms. The noisiest class on the third floor, unfortunately placed right next to the staff room. The awesome excursion to Bombay. The train journeys, the singing. The exam jitters. The tears, the nervous breakdowns. The celebrations, the jubiliation.

And the faces themselves. Boy, what memories! The look-alike. The girl I always competed with for the highest marks in Hindi. The pretty and popular one, from whom I learned a great many things. Ahem. The nerd who was fair and pretty and had freckles, but wore thick glasses that masked a lot of the prettiness. But who now looks so different and babe-like, that it took me a few minutes to recognize her.

And then there were others. Faces I remembered distinctly, people I could still picture in school uniforms, sitting in the classroom, laughing, playing, but whose names, for the life of me, I couldn't remember. And in place of their names, random odd memories flooded my head. The Gujju girl whose massive house I'd once been to and been in awe of. The girl whose father died a day before my birthday. The tall, pretty Christian girl with a name I know I liked. The plump girl, of whom I couldn't even conjure up a decent memory, even though I know I spent 5 years in the same class as her. I'd known these people for a good chunk of my life, spent some of my most memorable years with them. And now, six years later, I couldn't even put a name to the faces.

I don't really blame myself. Or anything, for that matter. People lose touch, memories fade away. It's sort of sad, in a way, because it all seems a bit pointless. A few good years, and then you move on to something else. New places, new faces. What happens to all those friends you make? If, after a few years, all you remember of these friends are a few fond memories and nothing else, is it really worth making friends in the first place?

Well, of course it is. When you think about it, change is the only constant thing in life. MG and I have talked about this so many times in our years together at university, I've lost count. You go through these different stages in your life - school, college, work, so on and so forth - and at every stage, you make new friends. Some you remember for longer than others, some are surprisingly forgettable. But that doesn't make the time you spend with these people any less special or meaningful. Memories might fade and you might forget the specifics, but you'll always remember the happiness you derived from their company. They might not be in your life for long, but in a way, they'll be "friends forever".

I guess that's why it's so important to enjoy the present. So that when you're going down memory lane in the future, you remember the good stuff. The fun times, the happy memories. So that when you suddenly come across a picture of your friends from long, long ago, you don't feel depressed or regretful - instead, you feel grateful that you had the chance to spend a few lovely years with some awesome people. So that after fondly remembering the past, you can look optimistically at the future and know, instinctively, that everything's going to be alright.

Much Ado About Nothing

2008-10-30T12:39:00.010+08:00

It's funny how unexpected free time comes when you least anticipate it. Well, I guess that's why they call it "unexpected". I've been using "too busy" as an excuse for not updating this blog (among several other things) and now here I am, sitting in lab in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, typing out a post about ... well, nothing. Irony seems to be a consistent theme in my life, huh?

So what exactly am I doing here? Well, I was supposed to be in lecture, but the kindly professor decided not to show up. I could've just taken the two hours off and gone and done something else, but like a good child, I thought, "I'm sure there's work for me to do in lab - I better not waste this time doing something pointless" and promptly strolled on over to lab. Only to find that pretty much everyone has gone out (to lunch, to do work on some other floor, who knows?) and that my supervisor isn't around to give me work either. Again, much to my own surprise, I refused to be deterred by the apparent lack of work and scavenged around, looking for a textbook I'd been reading last night so as to continue my studies. Surprise, surprise - I couldn't find it anywhere in lab. Seems like if you're really intent on doing some useful work, it will do its best to hide itself from you. Oh, well. Can't complain.

It's surprising how little time it takes to get out of touch with blogging. Just a few months ago, I was sitting at home, words pouring out of my ~~mouth~~ hands, thoughts flowing like a raging river in my head. And now here I am, unable to think of anything to write. It's not like I lead an uneventful life. And that's not even the problem - I can think of a lot of posts that I've written based on completely ordinary, uneventful things. The problem, I think, lies in the fact that once you've lost touch, nothing seems "blog-worthy" anymore. You start losing the ability to look at the world around you from a blogger's perspective, and that, in turn, makes it less appealing to write about anything. It takes a supreme effort to get yourself to write that one pointless post, that one post that serves the sole purpose of getting you to open up that blog page and type something, and then, before you know it, you're back in the groove and writing as though you haven't written in ages (which, technically, is true).

This pointless post had better achieve that goal, or all my thinky thoughts would've amounted to nothing.

A Thousand Words

2008-08-31T15:01:00.005+08:00

So, I'm going to add a new section to this blog. A photography section. For those times when a picture just says a thousand words. (Yes, it's another way of propagating laziness. Have you known me to do anything else?)

To start off, here. Have this gem.

This picture was taken by MG (who has some serious photography skillz) on my 3-day trip to Tioman with friends. This is the pick-up point for our return ferry, on our last day there. There was a massive storm that very morning, and then the sky cleared up to reveal this. Beautiful, no?

Bossy Words

2008-08-01T10:30:00.004+08:00

So, MG and I are in lab at 10 in the morning, jobless and without any work to do till afternoon. Unfortunately for us, our boss is sitting inside the lab, talking to a grad student, and we look kind of dumb sitting around and not doing anything. So we switch on the computer and pretend to read some super-important journal paper about phosphodiesterases, while secretly we're just waiting for him to get out of the lab so we can get back to bumming around in peace.

Boss and Grad Student talk for about 15 minutes or so (during which, I may mention, there was a lot of yelling and angry words being exchanged), after which Boss makes a move to leave. MG and I get ready to breathe a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, things don't go quite as planned for us, because instead of heading for the door, Boss comes right upto us and:

Boss: MG, Clueless, I need to talk to you. Now.

MG and Clueless: *matching "Oh shit, what have we done now" expressions*

Boss: Outside.

MG and Clueless: *follow Boss wordlessly*

Once outside ...

Boss: I don't know if I told you this before ...

MG and Clueless: *completing sentence in head* ... but I keep seeing you two bumming around in lab and I DON'T APPRECIATE IT. Get your asses down to work, pronto.

Boss: ... but I want you to know that I'm really glad to have both of you working in the lab. It really boosts the morale of the lab. I'm glad you asked to be brought back, and I'm glad that despite the initial problems, we somehow managed it, because I really appreciate the work you guys are doing. I just wanted to let you know.

MG and Clueless: *matching expressions somewhere between 'OMG OMG OMG", "YAY!" and "Did that just happen?!"*

Boss: And also, my office is open for you whenever you need it. Don't hesitate to just come up and talk to me about anything.

MG and Clueless: *still a bit speechless*

Boss: Alright, that's it. You can go back now. *smile*

MG and Clueless: *wide grins*

Boss: Okay, then! *leaves*

MG and Clueless: *wide grins*

Sometimes, you just need something like this to happen to make up for a shitty week. Thank you, Boss. You're not exactly known for your kind words of appreciation, so once in a while, when you make the effort, it really does mean a lot.

*wide grins*

Questionable Thoughts

2008-07-17T21:53:00.004+08:00

I've been using my little grey cells again. Blame it on the hour-long bus rides to and from university, blame it on my ever-increasing maturity (*snort*), blame it on whatever you want. The point is, I've been thinking. (Brace yourselves!)

When two people in a close relationship fight or have an argument because of one person saying or doing something hurtful, do those two people ever get past it? Even if the person who made the mistake apologizes, does the other person ever really stop hurting? Does the apologizer ever feel less guilty about whatever he/she did? Does apologizing ever really help? Is there even such a thing as to "forgive and forget"?

Is "sorry" really the hardest word? Or is it just a quick, easy way of ending a long, drawn-out argument? Is it ever too late to apologize, if you really mean it? Does making a mistake condemn you for life? Does every fight come at a price?

Why do people in the closest of relationships always have the biggest arguments? Why do misunderstandings happen so often among people who supposedly know each other well? Friends, spouses, siblings ... when people know each other for so long, shouldn't the number of arguments become less, not more? Is that the price we pay for closeness? Is it ever possible to be close to someone and never argue? To see eye-to-eye about everything? Is there even such a thing as a fight-free relationship? Or does fighting mean that you care more?

Why do life and relationships get more complex the older you grow? Why do things that never bothered you when you were young get to you when you're older? As a child, you never read between the lines, you never assumed, you were never paranoid. Why does growing up come with all those extra attachments? Does anyone ever reach emotional maturity? Does there ever come a point in time when you don't feel confused and lost anymore?

Why does life have so many questions? Is there such a thing as "too many questions"? Do any of these questions have answers? Do we just keep asking, in the hopes of finding an answer some day, or do we just accept the fact that they have no answers and stop wondering altogether?

Does any of this make any sense? More importantly, is it about time I got a new tag for these "thinky" (read: nonsensical) posts?

Fear Factor

2008-07-05T11:14:00.004+08:00

I wake up one morning, and about five minutes later, I'm attacked. By a case of the hiccups. I drink a bit of water, but the damn thing just doesn't go away. So I just do what I do best: I ignore it. So I'm sitting on the bed, surfing the net, looking to see if there are new movies to watch in the theatre, and MG comes in to see me having mini-spasms every few seconds. She sits down on the bed next to me, and stays quiet for a while, pretending to be interested in the list of "Now Showing" movies that are running on Cathay. Then all of a sudden, out of the blue:

"BOO!"

*hic*

"BOOOOO!"

*hic*

*pause while MG thinks of more ways to scare me*

"Tom Welling isn't coming back for Smallville Season 8!"

*long pause*

*hic*

"Kristin Kreuk is coming back for Season 8! More Lana!"

*hic* (This is already old news for the hiccup-er.)

"Lana had plastic surgery and now she's coming back as Kirsten Dunst!"

*hic* (Good try, though!)

"Prof is expecting you in lab today, even though it's Saturday, and he's going to be pissed when you don't turn up!"

*hic* (Wow, I really don't care.)

"The Dark Knight is rated R-21, so you won't be able to see it in the theatre till September!"

*long pause*

*hic* (I really have my priorities screwed up, don't I?)

*long, long pause as MG lies on the bed, thinking*

*sudden movement behind me* "BOO!"

*long pause*

Ow.

*hic*

"The people in NUS are so impressed with you, they're offering you a free Masters in Life Sciences in exchange for your three-year bond!"

*hic* (Also, HAHAHAHAHAHA.)

"Sigh. Maybe good old water is still the best remedy."

*glug glug glug*

Long, long silence.

"Hoorah! We've done it! You're cured!"

*hic*

*headdesk*

A Rush of Blood to the Head

2008-06-23T18:14:00.002+08:00

(I should keep track of how many music-related titles I'm able to come up with on this blog. *g*)

Some things happen for a reason. Others happen by mere coincidence. It was a case of the latter phenomenon that had me at the Health Sciences Authority, waiting in line to donate blood on a day that just happened to be World Blood Donor Day.

Now, my previous attempts at donating blood have been ... adventure-ridden, to say the least. My friends have gone so far as to call them "failures", berating me for putting myself through the process again and again. As per my calculations, however, as long as I'm alive and well and the blood bank has a nice, full bag of healthy blood, the donations count as "successes". Also, it makes me feel good about myself and ~~has a lot of people fussing over me for an entire day~~ helps people, so it's all good.

So off I went to HSA with my brother, slightly nervous at the prospect of a reunion with fat, scary-looking needles, but excited at the thought of ~~having people fuss over me~~ helping the world. Things went as normally as possible (although now that I think back, the blood bank seemed curiously empty for such an important day) - the nurse found my vein, jabbed the abnormally fat needle in, gave me my blood drop-shaped squishy thing and told me to ... well, squish. So I squished and squished and I squished some more.

I was feeling slightly odd by now - usually, by this point of time, something dramatic would've already happened that would've caused people to flock around me and fuss. And this time, things were actually proceeding smoothly. The nurses were being their usual sweet selves, but - for lack of a cheesier word - I didn't feel special. I wasn't that darling little girl who came in despite her having a practically non-existent vein, determined to do her small part to help people. I wasn't that sweet little child who suffered through ugly, purple bruises, that brave kid who stubbornly insisted on giving blood even as she blacked out halfway through the process. I was just a normal girl donating blood with the rest of 'em ordinaries. :/

Anyway, once I had squished my way to a full bag of blood, the nurses tended to me, patched me up (the sweet lady even asked me my colour preference for the arm-band) and sent me on my way with my food coupon. Still feeling oddly normal, I joined my brother in the mini-cafeteria, where he was waiting, having already finished his donation in record time. We got ourselves some stuff to munch along with some hot Milo and sat down to eat, discussing ... something (I can't remember what now).

What I do remember is my vision slowly starting to darken as I sat there talking to my brother. That's it. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, my feet propped up on a chair, with four or five people looking worriedly down at me. Now, a few things I learned from this:

1) Never go for a blood donation alone, especially if you are prone to fainting. If my brother hadn't been around, it would've taken my falling off the chair and probably hurting myself for people to realize I was in trouble.

2) Take your time at the hospital - don't leave too early. Fainting at the hospital is infinitely better than fainting in the MRT or on the road.

3) NEVER wear a skirt to a blood donation. (Not that I did; it's just something that got reinforced by my experience.)

Anyway, looking at all those worried faces, I almost burst out in giggles, but I figured it might not be the best thing to do after such a situation and so settled for politely letting them know I was alright. The doctors and the nurse didn't quite seem convinced (I wonder why!), and so they got me on a stretcher (I haven't been on one since I was 6!) and wheeled me back into the room I'd just gotten out of to spend another half an hour or so "resting".

And suddenly, just like that, everything was normal again. I was special. People were concerned about me and were fussing over me.

Finally, things were right with the world again. :D

Gone nuts!

2008-06-21T16:01:00.009+08:00

Tags that require no thinking at all make Clueless a very happy blogger. ~~One easy, brainless step closer to 100 posts, mwahahahahaha!~~ Also, this one just happened to yield very funny results.

Tagged (indirectly) by Sayesha,

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.

"Coconuts are still beheaded daily on Chowpatty beach; while on Juhu beach, under the languid gaze of film stars at the Sun'n'Sand hotel, small boys still shin up coconut palms and bring down the bearded fruit. Coconuts even have their own festival, Coconut Day, which was celebrated a few days before my synchronistic birth. You may feel reassured about coconuts."

Hee. When read out of context like that, it's just so funny. Oh, randomness. How I love thee.

Anyone want to guess what I'm reading? Anyone, that is, who doesn't already know because of me personally telling them? :P

ETA: D'oh. Forgot the 5th step. Tagging: Macho Girl, Shweta, Soleil, Confused Soul (you have a blog, remember? :P) and anyone else who wants to do it.

Purple on Purpose

2008-06-19T18:05:00.005+08:00

I've changed my layout. Again. This has been the fifth layout change in three years, and I haven't even reached 100 posts yet! I know, I know. I'm fickle, fickle, fickle.

But you know what? I love this new layout. Partly because I LOVE the colour purple, but mostly because my dear, wonderful brother pretty much did all the custom-designing himself. He even picked out the header! Isn't it pretty? :D

So, yeah. I used the last layout for about 30 posts (I counted!), but this one's lasting way longer than that, yo. It's a labour of love, and I intend to show it off as much as I can. ♥

Thank you so much, bro! This means more than I can express in words. *hugs*

A Little Too Ironic

2008-06-18T21:13:00.003+08:00

Having gone, over the past one and a half months, through the five stages of grief ...

Denial ("No, no, no, no, no! It didn't happen! Couldn't have happened! Noooooooo!" *plugs fingers in ears* LALALALALA!)
Anger ("Dammit! Why did this have to happen to me?!")
Bargaining ("Dear God, I'll do anything. Please please please ...")
Depression ("I. Don't. Care." *wails*)
Acceptance ("It happens. It happened. I'm alright. I think.")

... I am finally ready to revise my definition of irony. To quote myself,

The Clueless Dictionary
Irony, n. - When you are sitting in an almost empty library, studying for an exam when everyone you know is already done, and contrary to what has been happening the last week or so, you neither fall asleep nor do you spend every half an hour checking your watch to see if it's time to leave yet; when time actually passes by without you knowing it, and not once during the specified time does it ever cross your mind that you could be doing so many more interesting (and less tedious) things with it; when you realize that this sudden feeling of contentment and happiness is for a module you took because you didn't have any other choice and you had to take something to fulfil your minor requirements and when you realize you never feel this way about the subject you're going to earn your freakin' degree in.

The revised, (unfortunately) experienced Clueless Dictionary now defines irony as a situation in which you write the above paragraph and then two days later proceed to miss the examination for the much-loved subject because you forgot to re-check whether the exam was in the morning or the afternoon, thereby earning yourself a D+ instead of the sure A you were originally counting on.

I'd end this post with with a "*headdesk*" like before, but it just seems woefully inadequate now.

Isn't It Ironic ... Don't You Think?

2008-05-06T22:09:00.007+08:00

The Oxford English Dictionary
Irony, n. - A condition of affairs or events of a character opposite to what was, or might naturally be, expected; a contradictory outcome of events as if in mockery of the promise and fitness of things.

The Clueless Dictionary
Irony, n. - When you are sitting in an almost empty library, studying for an exam when everyone you know is already done, and contrary to what has been happening the last week or so, you neither fall asleep nor do you spend every half an hour checking your watch to see if it's time to leave yet; when time actually passes by without you knowing it, and not once during the specified time does it ever cross your mind that you could be doing so many more interesting (and less tedious) things with it; when you realize that this sudden feeling of contentment and happiness is for a module you took because you didn't have any other choice and you had to take something to fulfil your minor requirements and when you realize you never feel this way about the subject you're going to earn your freakin' degree in.

*headdesk*

Life Is ... A Document?

2008-04-16T00:11:00.002+08:00

I had an epiphany of sorts today. I was doing one of my rare moments of philosophizing, when I came up with this gem:

Everybody's life is a Read-Only Adobe file.

Before you think I've gone off my rocker, let me explain. I was thinking about how we're all each responsible for our own happiness and sadness, when I hit upon this analogy. We're all Read-Only files. Anyone can download us, read us, comment on us, criticize us ... whatever. Ultimately, though, no one but us can do anything about it. And that works for both good and bad stuff. Somebody sees a typo in the document? No one but the owner can change that. Too bad. Some kind soul can notify us about it, in which case we make a conscious effort to correct it, or we just realize it on our own and change it ourselves.

On the other hand, if someone doesn't like something about the document? Well, too bad for them. We have full ownership, so we have the right to keep and remove whatever we want. No one but us can change the document, just like no one but us can control our emotions. We choose to be happy or sad, we choose the way we feel. That's why it's stupid to say, "I'm sad/depressed because of so and so", because ultimately, we're the only ones who can alter the way we feel. Sure, people can influence us, but remember. The text is Read-Only.

Um, yeah. That's my random moment of philosophization. I'm probably going to look at this a few months down the line and go bang my head against the wall, but it makes sense to me right now and I guess that's all that matters.

The End!

(Yeah, I feel terribly random today.)

Rainy day musings

2008-03-11T15:30:00.004+08:00

It's 4 o' clock in the afternoon and I'm sitting in my hostel room in the dark. Dark, because it is pouring buckets outside and there's no sign of the sun anywhere. It is thundering, and the rain shows no signs of ceasing for a good few hours, at the very least. I have a 5000 word report and a presentation worth a huge chunk of my grade due in less than two weeks. I have another presentation tomorrow that's not particularly going well because I'm not really getting along with my project-mates. Me, who's usually the first person to make friends with random strangers. I have a test three days after the huge report/presentation combo I've mentioned above, for which I haven't done any studying and won't be able to till the presentation is over. I have four big books left to read for my literature module, one of which I should already have completed by now. (I haven't started.) If I was so inclined, I would be able to come up with a humongous list of things I have left to do.

Yet, right now, at this very moment, sitting in my dark room, listening to a combination of Seal's "Kiss from a Rose" on my iTunes and the sound of the rain pattering against my window, I'm the most peaceful I've been all semester. I'm in my room at 4 in the afternoon, instead of in lab, working my ass off on a project that seems to be going nowhere. I'm watching the rain through my room windows, instead of being cooped up inside the lab. I'm listening to music, instead of the stone-cold silence of the lab. And somehow, despite the enormous amount of work pending and the unending frustrations life keeps throwing my way, I'm finally feeling at peace with the world. I'm finally feeling at peace with myself.

MG messaged me from somewhere in the Arts faculty to say how "divine" she felt the weather was, and how brilliant it was that she could finally enjoy time between lectures, the way it was meant to be enjoyed. And I realized - it takes something as simple as being able to watch the rain from my room (or from a breezy bench in the Arts faculty, in MG's case) instead of being in lab all day, to put a little joy in life. Isn't that surprising? We've both experienced rainy days before. We both had two years in university during which we didn't have to go to lab everyday. And yet, it took some really bad experiences to help us truly appreciate something as simple as being able to enjoy a bit of time between lectures and watch the rain.

Life's sucky. I've come to realize that no matter how much I hope the future will be less sucky, it will most likely suck even more. That no matter how much I hope work-life will bring some sort of relief from the depression of studies, it will probably bring with it other miseries.

And you know, that's alright. Life can't always be bright and shiny. It can't always bring sunny days and warm weather. There will be ups and downs, there will be rain. And after it rains, the sun will come out. And it will feel that much warmer, that much more beautiful after the downpour. We need the bad to help us appreciate the good.

So sometimes, we just need to look out the window and enjoy the rain. For what it is, and for what it promises to bring. It'll make getting through the hard times that much easier.

P.S: Ironically enough, Rihanna's "Umbrella" just started playing on my iTunes. Coincidence? You tell me. :P

P.P.S: The view outside my window, just because it's pretty and because I can finally prove that my phone camera doesn't totally suck.

iPonder

2008-01-28T16:59:00.000+08:00

Argh. Why, why, why?

Why is life so frustrating at times and so darn splendid at others?

Why is it that when I'm sitting jobless at home, with all the time in the world to keep me company, I can't think of anything I really want to do, but now that I'm back and busier than I've ever been, I want to do a gazillion and one things that I just don't have the time for?

Why do the weekends pass by so quickly? More importantly, where do they go?

Why did I never appreciate the times I just had to go for lectures and then come back to my room, instead of going to lab to complete piles and piles of work?

Why is it so easy to fantasize about a brilliant future, but so difficult to picture myself in the fantasy?

Why do I have to go to lab every single day?

Why am I indifferent to the things that matter and needlessly worried about things that don't? Actually, why is it so hard to differenciate between what matters and what doesn't?

Why are people mean?

Why the heck is it so difficult to stay positive? I love my life, I love my friends and I have no major worries in life - then why is it so easy to get caught in that mangled web of frustration and depression when there's so much to be thankful for?

Why is it so much easier to give people advice than to follow it yourself?

Why is procrastination so easy and tempting?

Why are human beings so complicated? Why am I so complicated, when all I'm striving to achieve is plain ol' simplicity?

Why does it feel normal to vent on the blog, as long as it's funny, and feel completely awkward to vent genuinely?

Why, why, why is the grass always greener on the other side? Why do I feel annoyed when life is monotonous, then feel doubly annoyed when it isn't?

Why are these "the best days of my life"? Is there nothing to look forward to?

Why is it so difficult to manage time effectively? Why does it always take such a supreme effort to organize my life?

Why am I even typing out this post when I really don't feel all that bad today? :/

*deep breath*

I'll be alright, folks. iPromise :)

Minor Rearrangements

2008-01-03T16:46:00.000+08:00

The new year has begun! Time to dust yourself off, wipe those slates clean and start afresh. And I'm planning to do just that.

Today, after a lot of thinking (for about 5 minutes, approximately), I decided that "starting afresh" for me would involve doing something I'd thought about doing for a really long time, but just didn't have the courage to go through with. I decided on the spur of the moment that I would go ahead and do a Minor in English Studies. No more whining about doing well in modules I'm not majoring in. I'm going to channel all that negativity and use it to try and do well in this. This way, I at least have a couple of subjects to look forward to every semester, something I know I can do well in. I'm so happy to have finally used my strength to my advantage. Go me! :D

Other minor "life rearrangements" include taking a firm decision to do my best this coming year. I slacked a lot the previous semester, mainly due to the fact that I had completely lost interest in all my subjects, but I'm going to try and bring back that enthusiasm I had for everything when I first joined university. My results this semester proved to me that I'm capable. I just have to put in a little bit of effort, and I'm all set to do that this year.

Blog rearrangements include fresh, new lists for the year *points right*. Movies will include ratings on 5, but since I'm not very good at judging the quality of books I read, I will leave that for the readers to decide. Also, I hope to blog more, but that will depend on how hectic my schedule gets in the semesters to come. Here's hopin'.

A big thank you to everyone who voted on the poll. Yes, all 6 7 of you. Due to the overwhelming positive response (ahem, 83%!), I'm going to go ahead with the "Fave YouTube Videos" idea. Look out for some really cool videos soon! :D

So, yup. A new year, a new beginning, a new perspective and a new motivation.

Happy New Year, folks. It's going to be an interesting 12 months. :)

Randomosity, Part Deux

2007-12-30T17:07:00.000+08:00

I feel another random post coming on! What can I do? These things are addictive - they're simple, they require no special thought other than the stuff already you're already mulling about at the time of the post, and they're a convenient way of posting stuff on your blog without having to think of "themes" or "topics". Have we established now that laziness is a fundamental part of my existence? Alrighty-roo, then. Let's move on. *g*

1. I'm so freakin' happy these days. Everytime I come home for the holidays, people go, "They feed you well in Singapore, eh?" Hmph. I can't help it if the only vegetarian food I get there is oily and fatty. These holidays, though, every single person I've met (and I mean every single one of them) has commented on the fact that I look slimmer than the last time they saw me. It doesn't matter that I might've looked like a whale the last time these people saw me, what matters is that they notice I've lost weight. See, that's the good thing about being on the plus side. When you shed some kilos, people notice. And they comment. Now, would they do that if you were always the perfect size and shape? (What?! I'm lookin' on the bright side here!)

2. A few friends have come to snag some songs off my playlist in the past few days, and I'm tired of getting embarrassed everytime they scroll through the "B" section and notice the huge collection of Backstreet Boys songs on my iTunes. I listened to them obsessively during my formative years, 'kay? I harbour nostalgic feelings for them now. Don't blame me for being sentimental!

3. On that note, I'm now openly admitting that I don't like heavy metal. I don't care how cool it makes you look to have Metallica, Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath on your playlist - I don't because I'm not particularly fond of their "music". I'm willing to try new stuff (and I like most of the "mullet rock" played on Supernatural, so I'm definitely malleable), but I'm not going to go and listen to AC/DC of my own accord. And I'm not ashamed to say that anymore.

3.5. I haven't used the word "malleable" since school days, when I used to use it to describe some metal (or something) in my Physics papers. Oh, and I always used it in conjunction with "ductile". Malleable and ductile. Yup.

4. When I found out they were showing Supernatural here in India on Animax of all channels, I didn't know whether to be ecstatic or amused. Animax, really? I've always avoided that channel owing to the Japanese manga-type animated shows that keep airing 24/7. Supernatural and Andromeda are apparently the only ... er, real-people shows they air on that channel. Heh. It feels like I turned on Cartoon Network and caught an ad for Heroes. "Catch brand new episodes of Heroes on Thursdays, 8 pm, right between Powerpuff Girls and Bob the Builder!"

5. It's taken two and a half years of being away at a foreign university, but my mom finally feels confident about my ability to take care of myself in the future. (I helped wash a big bundle of dishes today, so that may have tilted the scale a bit.) Yay, me!

6. My idle musings in the past few days have led me to realize that I have watched a LOT of TV in my (limited) lifetime. It's a miracle I passed high school, really. Maybe someday I'll make a list. *ponders*

7. I've come across so many fantastic YouTube videos in the past two years (100mbps connection in the hostel room, ahem) that I feel inclined to do a "Video of the Week" type thing on my blog, a la Sayesha. I don't know whether it's a good idea. What do you guys think? Yes? No? Don't care either way?

ETA: 7.5. In the spirit of using some Blogger features I haven't used before, I'm setting up a poll on the right. I'm very excited about it, so please do vote and make me happy! Yes, yes, I know this is my blog and I can do whatever I want with it, blah blah blah fishcakes, but ... *sigh*, just please go and vote, 'kay? :D

8. I think my love for Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki may be slowly trumping my love for the one and only Welling. It's a scary, scary feeling.

9. I've been meaning to cut my toenails for about ... oh, two weeks now. Talk about procrastination. Ew.

10. I'm very fond of showing off injuries. This may be evidence of a pathologically self-centered attention-seeking personality, but I'll just attribute this particular quirk to ... well, quirkiness. Anyway, as I was saying, I love to show off injuries, especially if they have pretty bandages on them. I love band-aids. Square, round, the usual long rectangles - I like 'em all.

11. Clean shaven > stubble > full-grown beard and mustache. Boys, take note.

12. My brother has a big collection of Agatha Christie books, half of which I'm willing to bet he hasn't read. I've read quite a few Christie books, and I want to make a list now. Suddenly, I'm very fond of lists. I want to make lists of everything. Books I've read, movies I've watched, songs I like. Must. Control. Self. (Oh! But I'm going to start brand new lists come January for the stuff I already have on the blog (*points to right*, *winks at MG*), so yay!)

13. My mp3 player has a mind of its own. It played Michael Bublé's "Everything" 4 times in a single day. While on shuffle! Of course, I switched it off and back on between every one of those 4 times, but shouldn't it have some sort of mechanism that helps it choose one of the 200 other songs on my playlist before it plays the same damn song again and again?

14. I want to keep track of the number of times I say, "Remember that episode of Friends in which ... ?" Seriously. All roads lead back to Friends. For me, at least. For others, it's Simpsons. Or South Park. Why is it always the sitcoms, though? Better, wittier dialogue? More one-liners to snag?

15. Oh, South Park. I don't know whether to laugh at it or cry at the obscenities. What is it about the show that amuses so many people? That it uses profanity in insane amounts? That it's animated characters doing all the swearing? That it's animated children swearing and cursing and, well ... dying every episode? I think the show's funny, but I just don't get the mass appeal.

16. I don't like the fact that Christmas and New Year come so quickly in succession. They're both important days for me (I have no clue why, since I don't celebrate either day), and I don't like that they're so close to one another. I like my celebrations spread apart - it makes each of them more special.

17. MG and I often play a game when we're "taking a break from studies" (aka, "bored out of our minds"). We listen to the first few seconds of a song (and I'm talking a second or two max, here) and see who can guess the song name first. In the course of such games, I have come to realize that the first few chords of Bethany Joy Lenz and Tyler Hilton's "When The Stars Go Blue" and Nirvana's "Heart Shaped Box" sound very very similar, that the beginning chords of Anggun's "Snow On The Sahara" always remind me of Enigma's "Return To Innocence" and that the opening of Lighthouse Family's "Ain't No Sunshine" sounds just like Madonna's "Frozen". Interesting, huh?

18. I can't count the number of times I've wished that everything in life came with a "missed call" feature. Life would be so much easier that way, no? Can't find that elusive pair of scissors? Give it a missed call. Can't find your hairbrush/keys/glasses/whatever when you're already late for work/class? Give the damn thing a missed call. End of misery.

19. New Year in a few days! I wonder what it'll be like to write "2008" everywhere instead of "2007". Speaking of which, I just can't get myself to write something like 2/4/08. I just can't. I need to write 2/4/2008. I don't know why. People are obviously not going to mistake it for 1908, but I just can't do it. I know, I'm weird.

20. Why does LiveJournal seem oodles more fun than Blogger? *is grumpy*

21. Oh, and speaking of Blogger's incapabilities, why does it not have a strike-through feature (that awesome feature in which you can write stuff and strike it off, thus providing fantastic opportunity for wit, snark and humour), a la WordPress and LJ? *is more grumpy* (Or "grumpier". Whichever.)

22. *is hit by suspicion* Okay, since I'm no techno-whiz, is there a strike-through feature in Blogger? 'Cuz I've seen some bloggers use it and I seriously don't know whether it's because they know too much HTML crap for their own good, or because they just have better Blogger skillz than I do. Or both. Halp!

23. Switching tracks to stuff that makes me happier (*breathes*, and can you tell I'm becoming much too fond of these asterisk signs?), I can make dosas now! And they used to be amoeba-shaped, but now they're nice and round and dosa-like! I'm so proud!

24. The other day, I noticed a bunch of bananas hanging from the clothes-line in my house. The clothes-line, people. My mom gave me an explanation, but I can't remember right now, 'cuz I was too busy laughing to properly listen to her.

25. I don't wear my glasses around the house, so whenever I do wear them (like when I'm going out and there's something I need to ... er, see properly), they feel heavy and awkward. And they're frameless - that's as light as they're going to get.

26. Why is SRK becoming the next Amitabh Bachchan these days, in terms of commercials? He's just doing random crap now. Has anyone seen that Dish TV ad? So dumb. *cringes*

27. I *heart* Riverdance. I was watching my Riverdance DVD yesterday, and I've been gripped by a sudden manic urge to skip and prance and tap-dance my way around the house - such is the energy and fantabulousness of the show. It is, by far, THE best dance concert I've ever watched. Also? Irish music is made of awesome.

28. Why does life have to be so chock full of choices? As glad as I am to have graduated out of school-life, I miss the times when all I had to worry about was passing my way into the next grade. Now, everything's about the future. What subjects should you choose? Do you want to work or study more? What kind of job do you want? What kind of job will you get? Argh. When will the decision-making stop?!

29. Is singing even a valid talent these days? I've been watching these singing competition type shows on TV and my God, everybody can sing. And bloody well, at that. What is up with the world?

30. Oh! I was watching "Psycho" with my sister the other day (the 1960s one - movie, not sister!) and both of us literally screamed when the "mother" came out to stab the detective guy on the stairs. My mother ran out of the kitchen to ask us what the matter was, and when we rewinded a bit to show her the part, we realized there was nothing to it at all, action-wise. The lady very calmly came out and stabbed the man. What had freaked the crap out of us was the super-shrill, screechy, freaky background music. Damn you, Hitchcock. Just when I was going to safely say that horror movies didn't scare me, you go and freak me out with friggin' background noise.

31. *looks at length of post* Ahem, alright. I may have rambled on a bit too much this time. Darn it, I'm not going to have anything to say for weeks and weeks now! *is suddenly scared*

32. Hee. Kidding. I'll be back soon! (Or will I? *mysterious music plays*)

33. Alright, alright! I'm going! Toodles! :D

Grade Expectations

2007-12-27T01:40:00.000+08:00

Oh, irony. Oh cruel, cruel irony. How you torture me so.

So my exam results came out yesterday. Remember when I said I was really, really scared this time around that I'd do really bad? Well, turns out I needn't have been that scared - I didn't do badly at all. I didn't do great either, but the fact remains that I scared everyone into believing I could end up toeing the pass/fail line and I didn't. (Thus resulting in many people chastising me for the "unnecessary drama queen act" - sheesh!)

So, yeah. Phew. Thought I'd do miserably. Didn't. End of story.

Ha. You'd think. Life is never really that simple, is it? A close analysis of (read: one glance at) my grades throughout my university life so far will reveal a fascinating pattern. I tend to do better at modules I'm not required to do than at the ones that are compulsory for my major. In other words, I ace every Arts module I take and do miserably in my core Science modules. But that's not all! This semester, the cruel cruel irony mentioned above decided to be ... er, cruel to me by making sure I got my very first A+ in a Science module (to my great delight), but one which did not come under my area of specialization.

I'm therefore being reminded time and again that I absolutely suck at choices and do not really know myself at all. Either that, or I did something really bad in my previous life and The Guy Up There is making me pay for it.

Me: I choose to do Life Sciences in university!
Guy Up There: Here you go, A grades in all your Arts modules!
Me: I choose to specialize in BioMedical Sciences!
Guy Up There: A+ for your only non-BMS module! *beams evilly*
Me: *headdesk*

I feel like the anti-Chandler. You know, that episode in which he takes dozens and dozens of aptitude tests and realizes he's actually doing the job he's most suited for? In my case, it feels like the more number of tests I take, the more I realize I don't belong. What am I doing wrong? Is it an inability to do well in the things I choose to do, or is it an inability to choose the right stuff to do in the first place?

I'm not perturbed, really. I'm just ... perplexed. One of life's many mysteries, eh? But I guess in these situations, one just goes on trying. Experimentation - maybe that will work. Try out different things, see what happens.

I'm so switching tracks once I'm done with university.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas!

2007-12-25T13:40:00.000+08:00

Meeeeerry Christmas, everyone! :D

Lookie what I did! *points at header* Stupid, stupid me didn't know there was an "Add image to header" option on blogger till yesterday. I spent about an hour or so figuring out what picture to add, and modifying it to fit the header. The one you see right now is part of a picture MG took in December 2006, when we were enjoying the sight of a giant, decked Christmas tree at Takashimaya. I don't know how long I'll keep it, but I'm very very excited for the moment. *glee*

Oh, I just love love love Christmas. I don't do anything special, nor do I know anybody who does anything special, but I just adore the concept of Christmas trees, gifts, Santa Claus and reindeer, snow, Christmas specials on TV and of course, Christmas carols. Someday, maybe I'll be lucky enough to celebrate Christmas the proper way.

I had a nice Christmas gift planned for the blog readers today that sadly, I will not be able to execute due to my lack of technical skillz. I was going to ask around for some favourite Christmas songs and then sing them for the respective people and post them on the blog. I've tried very hard to make this work - I even sang a couple of songs and saved them on my laptop, so I could use them if there were any requests - but I just cannot figure out a way to stream audio tracks on the blog. If anyone can help me out here, I would be eternally grateful. It wouldn't even matter if I was forced to post the stuff some other day - it's the thought that counts, right?

I have special love for Christmas carols. Having studied in Christian schools for three-fourths of my childhood, and having been in the school choir for many, many years, I've developed a fondness for caroling. So, I'm going to leave you guys with something I love - a list of some of my favourite Christmas songs.

There are, of course, many many more songs that I love, but this will do nicely for now. So get into the spirit, enjoy the music (and sing along!) and go have some nice fruitcake on my behalf! Merry Christmas! :D

Just chillin'

2007-12-23T23:37:00.000+08:00

Holidays. The time to relax. To get away from the hectic hustle and bustle of university life and enjoy nature, pursue long-forgotten hobbies, listen to plenty of music and watch shit-loads of TV (or, in my case, browse the 'net). To forget about food courts and sad little bowls of maggi and eat home-cooked food. To leave all your worries behind, at least till the exam results come in. In other words, holidays are the time to, in local speak, just chill. And I've been chilling - oh yes, I have. In more ways than one.

When things go wrong, they go wrong in abundance. Yesterday was one of those days. My mother and I were cleaning the house to get ready for a pooja to be held today, and everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Clothes were going missing, and if they were around, they were ... er, leaking. Colours, that is. Washing machines were also leaking, leaving stained, coloured water pouring all the way into neighbouring rooms. The kitchen was looking more and more like a survivor of the apocalypse. The house, instead of looking cleaner, was getting alarmingly more cluttered by the minute.

And in the middle of all of it, I stood unfazed, staring calmly at the mess, figuring out ways to fix the situation, while my mother proceeded to freak out. And then it hit me. I didn't put much thought into it when I wrote "Calm, cool and collected" in my blog description (*points up and right*), but yesterday I realized how completely true that is.

I am calm, cool and collected. (Most of the time anway.) (And, of course, until I see a cockroach. That part is definitely true.) I don't freak out much and I don't usually have mental breakdowns. I'm like my father that way - he's the kind who'll never hurry up or worry about anything. My mother is the complete opposite - she's the kind who'll set a target time of half an hour before necessary so that we'll be on time. It probably drives her nuts that he's so matter-of-fact about everything, and it probably drives him crazy that she gets so easily worried.

I don't know if this is a recent development or what, but I find myself less and less fazed by anything that happens around me as time goes on. Nothing bothers me too much anymore (except stupid plot points on Smallville, but that's a whole other issue), but the thing I find myself wondering is - is that a good thing? Am I supposed to be this blasé about everything? Or maybe blasé isn't the right word. I'm not apathetic or indifferent or bored with life. No, I'm just not too overly worried by the problems I face. I'm able to rationalize calmly, be matter-of-fact about everything that happens, every challenge I'm faced with.

Maybe I'm only noticing these things because I'm constantly around my Mom these days and the contrast really shows. Or maybe I really have changed in the past few years and I've learned to take control of things and face problems head-on. Who knows.

All I know is that I'm happy this way. I'm happy not getting worried about every little thing, I'm happy not to have a gazillion things running through my head, getting me confused and anxious. I'll be very happy if I manage to stay this way through the years to come, through the many many problems life will throw my way. Here's hoping.

As for now? I'm just chillin'. :)

"Small" Talk

2007-12-16T16:27:00.000+08:00

Friday nights during semester time are reserved for Smallville-watching. At the end of a long, hard week (shut up, our weeks are totally difficult and traumatizing!), MG and I sit down to have dinner while enjoying our favourite guilty pleasure. I think I speak for the both of us when I say that I have no clue what we see in the show - apart from the ridiculously pretty (and talented) cast, pretty much everything about the show is mock-worthy and completely riddled with plot holes. And still, MG and I watch this travesty without fail, often fretting and fuming when episodes aren't uploaded on time.

Usually, most shows go on hiatus in December, taking a break for Christmas and New Year. Sometimes, though, they air these so-called "Christmas specials" right in the middle of the month, breaking the hiatus into two parts. This year, Smallville decided to do an important episode on December 13th, creating a problem for MG and me. We were both going to be in our respective homes (in two different cities) in December, and neither of us wanted to wait all the way till January to watch the episode together in Singapore, especially since there had been some indication by way of spoilers that something big was going to be revealed in the episode. Dilemma!

So we came up with this elaborate plan to watch the episode "together" virtually. After much deliberation that involved wondering if we should use GTalk's chat or phone feature to communicate during the episode and whether we should bother using web-cams, MG and I decided that we would both watch the episode simultaneously on our respective laptops, and use chat to "OMG!" and "WTF?!" our way through it.

Of course, there were complications. By pure chance, I found the episode on YouTube in the middle of the afternoon on Friday, something that never happens back in Singapore. We sometimes have to wait till midnight to be able to see the episode - that's usually how long it takes for the episode to be uploaded. Having chanced upon the YouTube links, I called MG immediately to inform her. She, poor thing, couldn't come online immediately due to visiting guests, and had to suffer about half an hour of torturous waiting before she was able to log on. As luck would have it, the power in my house went out five minutes before she came online, causing me to lose my broadband connection. The inverter, which ALWAYS works, somehow failed on me too. In frustration, I told MG I'd use dial-up and come online so we could watch, but just as I was connecting, my computer suddenly (and I mean suddenly) lost all power and decided to hibernate for the rest of the afternoon.

#$&%.

I hopped around the house a bit, cursing my (and consequently MG's) bad luck, while my amused parents watched on. My poor Dad tried to call the electrician so he'd come repair the inverter, to no avail. So for an hour and a half, I fretted and fumed, claiming that someone up there was testing my patience and MG and my devotion to Smallville.

Well, turns out we're very devoted. (Maybe stupidly so, but who cares?) At 4.30 pm, the power was back, the computer and the broadband connection were working and the YouTube links had not been taken down yet. Hallelujah! Although it took a while to re-load, MG and I weren't too annoyed - we used the time to prep for the episode. And by "prep for the episode", I mean "bash Lana Lang". As an example, a snippet of our conversation:

Me: There's supposed to be some big twist in this episode - let's hope it's good.
MG: (speculating and being very optimistic) Lana dies ... PERMANENTLY!
Me: BEST EPISODE EVAH!!!!

MG, once upon a sweet, innocent time, used to be neutral towards the phenomenon that is Lana Lang. As time wore on, and she watched more episodes (and I continued to brainwash her), she came to realize just how detestable this character actually was (and is). I also educated her about the show runners' inexplicable devotion to the character and their refusal to ever let her be shown in a negative light, or better (in my opinion, of course), kill her off. Which led to some more interesting discussion between MG and me:

MG: Oh! I know the twist! In a much awaited move, the mayor gives Lana the town key and renames it "Lanaville" to honour the struggles that Lana has been through in life, for opening the Talon and now having Isis to help meteor freaks. Then she gets the Nobel Peace prize!
Me: And then both Clark and Lex offer to be her slaves, and it doesn't matter if she doesn't love either, cuz they'll love her unconditionally! And Chloe will join them, because she's been a lesbian in love with Lana all along!!! (Side note: There was actually an episode on the show involving a lesbian in love with Lana. So we're not really exaggerating here.)
MG: Then Lois will join in since the writers will realize that Clark and Lois are supposed to be together. So Lois will be bi, and then it'll become a foursome. Or fivesome.
Both of us: *uncontrollable laughter*

By this time, the episode had loaded and so we decided to shut up (about our ideas for future seasons of Smallville, of course) and watch. The episode passed in typical fashion - there were chants of "Stupid, stupid Lois!", "SHUT UP, LANA!" and "WTF?! Why is he doing that?!" - par course for an episode of Smallville. The last scene came up - a sappy conversation between Clark and Lana - prompting the following exchange between MG and me:

Me: (as Lana comes on screen, ruining a perfectly nice scene between two other characters) Aiyo, why does she have to spoil everything?
MG: *barf*
Me: I know. We're going to need a bigger bucket. *BARF*
MG: I need a toilet bowl - to barf and then shove in her face!

It should be known here that both of us like almost all the characters on the show, save Lana, but time and again, our devotion is tested - one of the characters (or worse, several at one go) will do something to praise, help or save Lana and it makes us hate them for a while before they get back into our good books. This is especially true in the case of Clark, who we like a lot (mainly 'cuz he's played by the gorgeous Tom Welling), but who sometimes just needs to grow up and get a clue. With him, it's always LANA LANA LANA, so at times, it gets hard to keep the anger in check and keep loving him.

So when the big reveal happened - that Clark wasn't really Clark, but just Bizarro posing as him - you can imagine how happy we were. All that barf-inducing sappiness was just a front - our dear Clark wasn't really mooning all over Lana, despite her doing several shady things just a few episodes ago! It was Bizarro all along! Our reactions to the big reveal were pretty similar in their lack of well-formed words:

Me: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! OMG!
MG: (war-chanting) Yayayayayyayayayyayayayayay!!!
Me: OMG OMG OMG!
MG: :D :D :D
Me: Yayayayayayayayayay! This is AWESOME! Not for poor Clark, of course.
MG: (still incapable of words) :D :D
Me: Okay, THIS is how you do an ending!
MG: (finally obtaining a rudimentary grasp of normal speech) AWESOME EPISODE!

Heh, I can still remember the jubiliation. Our show had come through for us - it had finally provided us with a Heroes-like ending! What an accomplishment! Well done, Smallville! *pets show* Don't screw anything up now!

You know, it's nice to have something to obsess over - something everybody knows about, despite you wanting to keep it a secret because you're so ashamed of it. Did I ever mention my friends got me a custom-made Tom Welling mug for my birthday? It was one of the sweetest and most personalized things I'd received in ages.

So go on, let your obsession show through. Make a list of the insignificant, irrational things you hold really close to your heart - a TV show, a favourite celebrity, a stuffed toy. Maybe someone somewhere will get a clue. *winks*

Randomosity

2007-12-14T10:41:00.000+08:00

It's been 8 days since my exams got over, and I haven't been able to crank out a post yet. I don't know if that's ever happened before - my exams are always followed by a "Woo-hoo!" period during which I feel the urgent necessity to celebrate the existence of my blog by dropping in and posting something insignificant. This time, I haven't even been able to do that, as a result of which, my blog is still sitting sadly, displaying a month-old post and waiting for me to give it the time of day.

I've been travelling a lot the past couple of days, leading to two things. One, I haven't been able to find the time or place to sit down and post my thoughts and two, I haven't been able to collect these so-called "thoughts" at all. My posts usually have a theme to them - they're always about something or someone or some event that took place recently. Since my exams have gotten over, my thoughts have just been a jumbled mess. Things pop up now and then, but they're never coherent enough to warrant an entire post. Thanks to this unique phenomenon, I give you, dear readers - my first ever random post! I'm going to try and link these thoughts up so they make some sense, but I don't expect stellar results.

1. I'm home! I'm home! Of course, "home" is all dusty and not been lived in for about two months, but still - I'm home!

2. Home's cold. I went to sleep yesterday with one blanket on. A while later, I went to get another one. I was still cold, so midway through, I resorted to hugging my mom to get warmer. Brr!

3. I had a dream last night during which I gave an entire speech about Women's Oppression (for what joy, I don't know) in front of a class composed partly of my friends at university and partly of my school-mates. I even remember most of the darn speech!

4. I'm totally dreading my exam results this time over. I say this after every semester, but this time, I really, really mean it.

5. Exam results come out the day after Christmas. Christmas, woo-hoo! I love Christmas and everything that goes along with it. Singapore's all dress-y and festive this time of year - maybe someday I'll get to spend Christmas there, instead of here in India.

6. I have some nice ideas for a Christmas post. Let's hope they pan out. :)

7. I want to do something useful these holidays. Take up a "holiday project" of sorts. I've always wanted to try my hand out at writing - maybe I'll see if I can go any further with that. If not, I hope to blog a lot. (There's manic laughing inside my head.)

8. I'm getting a bit sick of my current template. I'm probably going to hang on to this one till Christmas for all the green, but I really want something custom-made. Not something you can just pick off a list on a website. If I go through with the change, that'll be the fifth time I've changed colours (pink to black to white to green to whatever) for the blog in two and a half years.

9. My blog is almost two and a half years old. :O And I haven't even gotten to 100 posts yet. *headdesk*

10. I have no idea how I'm going to tag this post. I've probably talked about everything already. Oh, except maybe movies.

11. Not anymore! My post-exams movie marathon this year was a complete cheese-fest. I watched both High School Musical 1 and 2 and went to the theatre to watch Enchanted. My God, if anyone was made for the part of a vain, handsome, floppy-haired, dim-witted prince, it was James Marsden. I couldn't even recognize his voice during the animated parts - he was definitely one of the best things about the movie. Patrick Dempsey, who I normally find pretty smarmy, was wonderful as well, and Amy Adams had the wide-eyed look of a fairy-tale princess down pat. Kudos to the casting unit.

12. I have all the songs from HSM2 permanently going on in my head. The damn songs, with their catchy beats and their hummable tunes, are addictive. I feel like such a teenager. *hides*

13. There's an HSM craze over here right now. It's playing everywhere. Disney Channel's already showed it a gazillion times, and it's being shown on flights as well. Mania!

14. Jet Airways serves the best food. As of now, I'd say Singapore Airlines and Jet Airways are two of the best airlines I've ever travelled on, and I don't know which one I'd pick were I given a choice. The entertainment on SA is brilliant, but Jet is king of airline meals.

15. I don't know why all the domestic flights' air-hostesses turn out to be the pretty, kind ones, while all the air-hostesses on international flights are snooty and bossy. My mother has this theory that all the pretty ones start off on the domestic flights and that by the time they graduate to the international stuff, they become old and crabby. I'm inclined to believe this is true. Either that, or the people who hire these people think "snooty" is a trait that will appeal universally.

16. I'm now on a mission to make use of all the tags I have, so I'm looking for stuff I haven't talked about yet.

17. TV! As a big TV fan, I'm sad to say that the stuff on the telly no longer interests me. There's nothing fun to watch anymore! My laptop has become my new TV, but the stupid writers' strike is making life difficult - I'm avoiding thinking of the possibility of an entire semester without new episodes of Smallville, Heroes or Supernatural. Eeee!

18. BUT! New Smallville episode today or tomorrow! MG and I are planning an across-citites watching session - should be fun! Yay!

19. Books, books. I snagged an Agatha Christie book off my brother's bookshelf on my way back from Singapore so I'd have something to do in the flight. I haven't finished it yet, but that woman amazes me. I always end up pinning the murder on all the suspects by the time I finish the book. For people who like mystery novels, read Murder on the Orient Express. It's one of the best ones she's ever written.

20. Okay, I can't do a picspam here, so that tag will have to go. And since this isn't a tag, that one will have to go too. Oh, well. I did my best.

21. Alright. I ran out of things to say halfway through this post, but I struggled on and wrote some more nonsense. But I think it's time to stop the torture now. Thanks for labouring through this much! The next post will be better thought out, I assure you. :)

If It Makes You Happy ...

2007-11-05T13:08:00.000+08:00

... share it with the world! (Shameless admission: I searched for the word "happy" on my iTunes list to see if there was a song I could use as a post title. What?! I'm not always creative, people! Anway, on with the post ... )

In university, the arrival of November signals impending stress and nervous breakdowns. Barely a month before exams, everyone starts to slowly realize the amount of work they have pending and the extremely short amount of time they have to complete it. And then the hysteria begins. To combat this, some people do the smart thing and start studying. Others panic and ... erm, blog.

Anyway, it's during dark and tense times like this (overdramatic, much?) that you appreciate the small, tiny things that lift your spirits and make you happy, if only for a brief period of time. As I've been going around, moaning and complaining about the unfairness of life in general, I've come to realize just how many small things make me happy. Things like

when you're in lab on a particularly uninspiring day, feeling guilty about not getting any work done while everyone else seems to be working intently, and you pass by one of these "intently working" lab-mates only to notice that they're actually intently playing Tetris on their computer and suddenly you're flooded with compassion and love for that person, even though you barely know them.
when you're worrying about the amount of work you're going to have to put into your exams to maintain your CAP this semester, and a sudden change in the S/U policy of your university causes your CAP to go up by 0.05. It's not a big increase and it definitely doesn't change the amount of work you're going to have to put into your exams , but for some reason you feel extremely relieved and an "It's going to be alright" feeling washes over you.
when you stand on your weighing scale and it tells you that you've lost 0.5 kgs, even though you know the machine's cranky and keeps changing its mind every 2 days and that it might tell you that you weigh a kilo more the next day.
when your supervisor at lab tells you out of the blue that you need to submit a 1000+ word report for your project and gives you 3 days to complete the work and you freak out about it and curse and swear at the injustice of it all, and the next day he tells you that he made a mistake and that you don't need to submit a report till the next semester, a full 4-5 months away, and you feel an inexplicable love for the man even though you were fuming at him less than 24 hours ago.
when you get your new Nokia phone solely so you can have your favourite song on your ringtone, only to realize that your crappy phone doesn't have enough memory to hold a whole song, and you fume and fret until you and your friend figure out a way to crop songs on Windows Movie Maker so that you can have the opening chords of Deep Purple's "Smoke On The Water" as your new ringtone and you're ecstatic about it despite the fact that your phone is almost always on silent since you spend insane hours at lab and that no one ever calls you during the few hours it is off silent mode. (Wow, that was a long sentence.)
when you're chatting with a junior from your old school one day and she's telling you about everything's that happened since you left two years ago and she mentions in passing that she knew about you even before she came to university because your favourite teacher in school used to teach her too and he talked a lot about you and you're completely and joyously blown by the information, because you had no idea he even remembered your name, let alone care enough to talk about you after you left school.
when you sign into GTalk and the mail thingy pops up and lets you know you have new comments on your latest blog post and you feel a rush of pride even though you stubbornly maintain (to everyone except MG) that you write for yourself and that "comments don't matter".
when you make a list of things that make you happy and realize your life isn't so bad afterall, even though you know you'll be back to cribbing in no time. For the moment, though, life seems good.

They may seem silly, but they're the small things in life worth cherishing and remembering. Putting them down on paper - er, screen - helps, as I've realized from this post, one that still puts a smile on my face everytime I read it.

So, what makes you happy? :)

A Cut Above The Rest

2007-10-22T15:55:00.000+08:00

It was just another ordinary, mundane day at lab. Macho Girl and I were going about our work as usual, day-dreaming about the million and one more interesting (and fun!) things we could be doing with our time. As can be guessed, it was as drab a day as could ever be.

Now, MG and I knew that if we were going to survive through the day, we needed to entertain ourselves. By virtue of spending many a boring day at lab, she and I have grown used to utilizing the ordinary supplies around us to make life interesting. (We only do this during long incubation periods, 'kay? We're good students in general!) On this particular day, MG was choosing to entertain herself with some origami. A pair of pink scissors and some colourful construction paper around her, she was perfecting her latest work of art - lilies.

I should totally get her to pay me for all the advertising I do for her on this blog!

I should've known what was going to happen just by watching her fiddle around with the scissors. Flash-back to the weekend. On MG's persistence, I went to a salon in Clementi to get myself a fringe. I don't know what inspired this sudden craze, but out of the blue, both of us wanted to know what I'd look like with a fringe. We photoshopped some pictures of me to see what it could potentially end up looking like, and when we realized it didn't really do much to detract from my facial features (and that the Clementi salon was offering really cheap fringe cuts), we took the first opportunity to go over and get the fringe (and the discount!).

When I came out of the salon that Saturday evening, I didn't feel any different. Unfortunately, I didn't look any different either. The guy, over-estimating the curliness of my hair, hadn't cut the fringe short enough, so it sort of blended with the rest of my hair. I was devastated. Granted, the whole thing had just cost me 6 bucks (and after my last 18$ hair-cut, that seemed mighty cheap), but I didn't have anything to show at the end of it all! I decided that maybe when I washed my hair, it would curl up to the length it should be and everything would be alright. It was not to be. Sunday's hair-wash proved that the salon guy had, indeed, over-estimated the power of my curls. The fringe was too long!

Flash-forward to the present. Er, not-too-distant past. Whatever. Anyway, after completing our chores for the day at lab, MG and I had a sudden brainwave. We'd been wondering if we could just cut the fringe ourselves, but the plan hadn't really materialized. It must've been the sheer boredom that prompted us to do something like this, but we decided to cut off the extra-long fringe, right then and there in lab, despite not having any prior experience in hair-cutting whatsoever.

I felt like someone on whom impromptu surgery was going to be performed. A surgery without any pre-planning, sterile equipment, professional help or a decent surgical environment. It was like out of the blue, Macho Girl had decided there was something wrong with me that needed to be fixed right away and so had thrown all caution to the wind and gone straight for the cut (pun intended). We knew that it was risky - once the first incision had been made, there would be no going back. In addition, the process was irreversible - any damage done would stay forever.

And yet we took the plunge, for brave (and reckless) were we. With quivering hands and a nervous heart, MG chopped through my fringe with the bluntest scissors known to mankind. Scissors which, I might add, had been dipped in liquid nitrogen several times before. (Yes, we realize that we both would suck at hospital work. Or, you know, any job that requires sterile conditions. Like, erm, researchers. Yeah, whatever. Stop guffawing!)

A tense minute later (though it seemed like an eternity), the job was done. I took a cautious peek at the mirror and found myself staring into a face framed by suddenly stylish-looking hair. Success! MG and I congratulated ourselves on a job well done (while simultaneously breathing a huge sigh of relief that we hadn't mutilated anything beyond recognition). All was well in Hair Land once more! Woohoo!

The doctor, after completion of the procedure, holding my ha ... er, "filamentous outgrowth of protein". Yeah, that.

Our impromptu non-sterile equipment

You know, sometimes, you just need an incident like this to get you off your butt and blogging again. :)

Bloody Tales

2007-09-14T12:27:00.000+08:00

Let me make a confession here. I'm scared of blood. My blood, to be specific. I'd rather it stay inside, where it belongs, so when it makes an appearance outside of my body, I freak out. People always react the same way when I tell them this.

"You're a Life Science student, and you're scared of blood?! :O :P"

:|

Ok, time to get this straightened out.

1) Life Sciences = micro-organisms, DNA, proteins, enzymes, molecules, cells, etc.
2) Medicine = blood, cadavers, the gory stuff (sorry for generalizing, all you doctor wannabes, but the point has got to be made)
3) Life Sciences ≠ Medicine

Got it? Great, we can proceed now.

*takes off strict-teacher spectacles*

Ahem. So where was I? Oh yeah, fear of blood.

Bloody Incident 1: Home, Bombay. Age: 8(ish). A Blood Donation Drive is happening in my apartment complex, on the 16th floor. Dad's a regular blood donor, so I go up to the area to watch him and some others donate blood. I reach the top, see random man lying on a bed with a big bag of blood hung on a stand next to him and freak the hell out. I run 16 floors down ('cuz I don't have the courage to watch the bloody bag a while longer while waiting for the lift), run all the way across the complex to my building and take the lift up to my house on the 8th floor, bolt into the house screaming for Mom and some biscuits to help fight the dizziness. I calm down eventually.

Bloody Incident 2: School, Coimbatore. Age: 13. I'm playing basketball with friends during lunch break when I fall down and scrape my knee on the rough court. A teensy weensy amount of blood appears on the wound. I take one look at it and instantly feel dizzy and light-headed. My friends find this extremely funny and laugh in the face of my pain. :/

Bloody Incident 3: School, Coimbatore. Age:14. My friends and I are playing some stupid game that involves jumping onto stone benches that are around two feet off the ground. As expected, a friend gets badly hurt, enough that pink flesh can be seen through the wound. As she sits cheerfully, admiring her wound and letting people tend to her, I run away to a distant corner because just looking at the bloody wound is making me nauseous.

Bloody Incident 4: Chez friend, Coimbatore. Age: (still) 14. I'm at a friend's house having a mini-slumber party of sorts. Her little cousin brother is visiting her, but he plays with my friend's younger sister and doesn't interfere much. At night, as we're preparing to go to bed, we hear him yell. We run to the hall to see what has happened and see him standing there, grinning slightly, holding up his right hand, blood on his T-shirt. He's been playing with the table fan, with disastrous results. I'm standing there, taking all of this in, and the next thing I know, my friend's looking down at me and asking why I've suddenly chosen to take a nap. I look around and realize I'm flat on the ground. My first fainting experience. (My Physio teacher told us in tutorials that fainting was the body's way of getting you horizontal so blood can go to your head. I'm now having fun thinking of the body as a separate entity, deliberately sweeping you off your feet and getting you on the ground so it can do what it needs to do.)

Bloody Incident 5: NUS Lab, Singapore. Age: 19. My Immunology Lab decides that in order for students to get hands-on experience, they should all be given cute, furry little white mice to dissect. I panic immediately, and refuse to cut open the poor thing. Fortunately, my group-mates agree and our TA is forced to do the dirty work (literally) for us. He keeps giving us a running commentary throughout the whole thing, as if seeing it isn't enough. "Be careful not to nick the heart, okay? 'Cuz if you do, there'll be a whole lot of blood and the entire thing will get messy. It's not easy to work through that much blood." O-kay. Very reassuring. Anyway, I think he did nick the heart, because by the time he was done, everything was indeed quite messy. And bloody. I spend the entirety of that practical class cringing. :/

Ironically, the only two times I didn't cringe at the sight of blood (mine or otherwise) were the times others were forced to cringe. Let me elaborate.

Bloody Incident 6: Singapore General Hospital, Singapore. Age: 18. I'm at another Blood Donation Drive, only this time, I'm in the position of Donor instead of Little Girl Running For Life At Sight Of Blood. It's my birthday and I've chosen to do something noble and donate some of the life-giving stuff to the less fortunate. As luck would have it, nature is against me parting with my blood. I pass my haemoglobin test with flying colours, but once in my relaxi-chair, the nurse takes 15 minutes to find a vein to draw blood from. Eventually, she chooses to just jab at random spot and pray for the best. A good half hour later, I'm still sitting in my chair, pumping away at my stress-pumpkin, while all my other donor friends have done their part and gone off to replenish their lost fluids by downing some Milo. Another 15 minutes pass in agony (because of the painful pumping, not the blood donating itself) before the nurse finally takes a look at my half-filled blood bag, declares me a lost cause and tells me to go "build some veins" before coming back the next time. Sigh.

I'm left with this cringe-worthy mark on my hand (and it gets a lot bigger and gross as the days pass).

Bloody Incident 7: Sai Centre, Singapore. Age: 19. A year later, I'm at another Blood Donation. And it's almost a repeat of last time. I go in, nurse can't find a vein, she pokes and prods and finally manages to get the big needle in and I wait for hours and hours for the damn thing to finish. This time, I even black out at the very end of the procedure and the nurse has to rearrange my chair so I'm lying feet up and the blood is rushing to my head. Nurse shoots me a disapproving look and tells me to build some veins before donating the next time. Sigh. Again.

Cringe-worthy mark 2 (this time on right hand) -

Trust something like this to happen the only time I voluntarily go to see blood taken out of my body. Oh, irony.

Anyway, what with donating blood twice (with disastrous results) and dissecting mice, I'm well on my way to getting rid of my fear of blood. I just can't afford to have it anymore, you know? Who knows what bloody thing I'll be required to do in the years to come.

Making The Right Call

2007-08-26T16:11:00.000+08:00

Sweetheart,

I don't know how to tell you this without hurting your feelings, but since it's got to come out some day or the other, I'll just say it as it is.

*deep breath*

It's over. We're over. I've been dropping hints for the past three months to try and make this very moment less painful for both you and me, so I sincerely hope this news isn't coming out of the blue.

For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Sorry about ending this at a time when things have been pretty peaceful between us. I know we've not had any major problems recently, but that's sort of why I'm doing this now. Another breakdown is inevitable, you know that. I don't want us to wait until that moment to sort things out and eventually leave each other in an ocean of anger and bitterness. I want us to part on good terms. I want us to cherish the good times we had together, because let's face it - we did have quite a few.

You know, speaking of good times, I remember seeing you for the very first time in China Town. It was love at first sight - you were everything I'd ever dreamed of. I remember thinking you were way out of my league, so you can imagine my surprise when things turned out the way they did. I was ecstatic! You were mine, my very first, and I couldn't have asked for anything more.

My brother wasn't very happy. I think he knew from the get-go that we weren't meant to be and even stated as such, but when I argued against it, he left it at that. The darling that he is, I think he wanted me to come to that conclusion by myself, without being forced. I wish now that I had listened to him - it would've saved you and me both two years of misery.

I might have been too ecstatic about our fresh new relationship to see at first, but looking back now, I realize that we were flawed from the very beginning. I can't remember the number of times we went to see someone to get help. To fix things. It always seemed to work, and then a month or two later, things were back to square one. We never seemed to make any progress. There even came a point when our unsteady relationship started affecting my relationship with my friends. I don't ever want something like that happening again, and if I stay with you, I don't think I can guarantee that.

So it's time for me to let you go. I've found another, and we've been getting along really well so far. I want you to know that I'm not doing this to hurt you in any way. I just need to be in an uncomplicated, friendly relationship right now. You were my very first, and for that I will always love and remember you. But it's time to move on.

So, goodbye. It's been ... an interesting two years. I won't ever forget you, and I wish you all the very best for the future. *muah*

Love,
Clueless

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Readers,

Don't be scandalized - I haven't dumped my boyfriend. Erm, actually... I don't have one at all. These are the "sweethearts" I was talking about - my ex (left) and my current darling (right). Aren't they precious? :D

*crickets chirping*

... I just have low expectations, alright? :|

The Hunt For ... Er, Obscure Places On Campus

2007-08-23T00:12:00.000+08:00

It was a dreary, cloudy, cold Saturday morning. A downpour seemed impending. Four girls got out of their comfortable, warm beds in the wee hours of the morning (10 am to be exact), and shuffled down to the common lounge of their residence block. Their mission that morning was simple - to identify pictures taken in the farthest nooks and crannies of their university (aka "those god forsaken places"), go to those (god forsaken) places and get a picture taken as proof of... well, their having found it. And of course, to beat the other team at it. The task was simple enough, but had these girls been observant enough in their two years at university to identify all the places and effectively cover all of them on foot, bus and other means before the other team did?

Well, apparently they had. Er, we had. "We" as in Confused Soul, Bubble Burster, Macho Girl and yours truly. (As if there was any doubt as to who the "four girls" were - when have there ever been stories that featured other girls?) Out of 12 pictures, we successfully identified 10 and travelled in the pouring rain to cover all the stations. I even have a scar on my toe and right knee to show as proof of the hardships we encountered on our travels. *looks around at disbelieving audience* Oh, fine. I fell down clumsily and hurt myself, 'kay? Don't laugh.

Anyway, the point is, we had a great time that day. Despite the rain that didn't stop almost till the very end of our hunt. Despite us walking around almost the entire campus with jeans soaked up to the knees. Despite us getting lost halfway through the hunt and walking for a big portion of the hunt without realizing where the hell we were headed, in spite of having a campus map on us the whole time. Actually, scratch that. Not "despite of". "Because of". I don't think the hunt would've been half as fun if we had done it on a normal, sunny day and figured out the easiest way to get to every spot on campus. The thing to know is - being miserable isn't really that bad, as long as you have people to complain with!

Today was our prize-giving ceremony (OT: I don't think I've used the phrase "prize-giving ceremony" since I left school) and boy, were we rewarded for the (fun) misery we went through that day. A big hamper, designed specifically to meet the needs of us hungry, entertainment-deprived hostelites! There were goodies galore, and I have to pause for a moment here to applaud all those people involved in the PhotoHunt and the prizes, because they did a splendid job. Lookie how pretty the hamper is!

What's that, you say? You wanna see what's inside? Why, sure! No, of course we didn't take these pictures to show off - they're for ... er, future reference! In case any of us forget and have to remember for ... um, important reasons. Yeah, that. *shifty look*

Champagne! Actually, it's just grape juice, but whatever. It looks champagne-y enough - let the spraying begin!

Doesn't it annoy you when those damn movies on the ... er, *cough*net*cough* don't play loud enough and you have to resort to earphones that start getting painful after an extended period of time, especially if your ears are not exactly earphone-friendly? Well, with speakers (albeit slightly shady looking ones - why have I never heard of this brand before?), you don't have to worry about any of that anymore! Enjoy the bliss of watching movies earphone-free!

...

MG and I were, upto this point, the only people left in the university without speakers, weren't we? I knew it. We lead sad, pathetic lives. *headdesk*

Food, glorious food! These people sure know how to please us food-court deprived hostelites! :D

CD racks. For, you know, those countless movie CDs we own. Yeah, the ones we don't resort to that place that rhymes with 'set' to watch.

I'll say it again. These people sure knew how to appease our desires. Well done, RVR folks!

There was also a competition during the dinner ceremony today for "Most Colourfully Dressed Person". Well, I happen to own a very colourful T-shirt that, incidentally, my friends love to make fun of and laugh at. I wore it to the dinner thing today, and won myself a highlighter set as consolation prize.

Who's laughing now, peeps? (That would be me, in case the huge set of teeth in the above picture wasn't clue enough.) Bwahahaha! :D *ducks to avoid the sudden downpour of shoes*

You know, not long ago, I was lamenting about leaving my "home away from home" and moving to new, unfamiliar territory. It's always nice when your fears turn out to be baseless. I'm glad to say that the move has worked out for the best, and so far, it's been a wonderful experience. *touch wood* Here's to plenty more fun days in the new place!

*clink* Grape juice, anyone? :)

Homecoming, but not quite.

2007-07-26T20:34:00.000+08:00

August is just around the bend. To all the students at my university, that means one thing. Semester's about to start. And so begins the madness. Freshies are pouring in, ragging (oops, "orientation") is on in full swing and for older students like me, the "moving back into hostel from wherever we've been lazing the past few months" ritual has begun.

I moved into my new hostel (my new "home") a few days ago, and for the first time since I got on a flight and settled down in my hostel here at university two years ago, I felt like I was leaving home. I realize now that it's a combination of things, prime amongst which are leaving PGP, my home away from home for two years now, and on a smaller scale, leaving my brother's place in the east (far, far away from my hostel in the west), where I've been torturing him and my sis-in-law for the past three months.

I'd been prepared to miss PGP ever since my application to stay in the new hostel got accepted, but I hadn't realized I'd miss my temporary three-month home so much. It hit me fully yesterday, when, on my way to taking a bus from Harbour Front MRT back to my hostel, I happily and obliviously made my way to the bus stop on the side of the road going towards the east. I even hurriedly flagged down the bus that had almost left the stop and got in. And as soon as I'd tapped my card, it hit me that I was heading the wrong way. I got off a couple of stops later and crossed the road to take the bus from a lonely stop on the right side, but by then I was thoroughly depressed. Three months had been enough to change my routine completely - what was I gonna do without all those things I'd taken for granted recently?

A day, I'm still slightly depressed. I'm gonna miss so many things about that place. I'm gonna miss being able to come home from lab and rattling off the day's events to my sis-in-law. I'm gonna miss having hot, yum veggie soup made for me any time I want. I'm gonna miss being able to have dinner accompanied by old seasons of Friends. I'm gonna miss washing dishes with my brother while having lengthy conversations about the muck in the sink. I'm gonna miss the swimming pool. I'm gonna miss the gym (and that, coming from me, is something!).

My bus rides! How can I forget? I'm gonna miss the long one-and-a-half hour bus rides to and from the university, during which I realized how empty my life would be without my mp3 player. I'm never again gonna be able to watch Prime Time Morning, the news programme that comes on TV Mobile (the bus channel) everyday in the morning. (To be honest, I never listened to the news, seeing as how I was always wearing my earphones, but I'm gonna miss that adorably cute young couple who did most of the newscasting.) I'm gonna miss those random Chinese soap opera serials (with subtitles, of course) that I watched on the bus those few times my mp3 player's batteries ran out. I'm gonna miss getting onto the top deck of the double-decker buses early each morning and being greeted by a host of school kids, all sleeping in various positions and angles. I'm gonna miss the amusement that comes from watching men and women in smart, crisp business suits fall asleep on long journeys with their mouth open and earphones plugged in their ears. Oh, the bus rides. I'm gonna miss so many things.

Looking back now, I think I was one of the first few people in university to start calling my hostel room "home". I was ecstatic to be living on my own, out of the supervision of parents/older siblings, but somewhere deep down, I must've felt the loneliness, because for the first time yesterday, I realized that home is where the heart is. Home, is where the family is.

I miss you guys. :(

Hurry, it's Potterific!

2007-07-14T11:30:00.000+08:00

*points to title* I made a funny. And I punned. I'm awesome. :D

And so is Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the fifth installment in the Harry Potter series. Now, as an avid fan of the books (that number seems to be dwindling drastically - I know of many, many people who watched HP5 without ever having read the books), I'm usually very nit-picky about everything they do in the movies. I hate it when they change the dialogues, and I hate it even more when they change entire scenes to fit their "movie needs". Not to mention the outrageous deleting of potentially important scenes, just to fit in random stuff that need not even be there, but is there because it "looks cool". Grr.

Now, 700 odd pages is a lot of material to cover. So going in, I was already prepared for massive cuts and changed scenes. I was also completely prepared to seethe and fume through every single minute of the movie, so you can imagine my surprise when I spent the entire 2+ hours thoroughly enjoying it and not finding much to harp on about. Granted, if I started off, I could find something wrong with every scene, but four HP movies have taught me to take what I can and forgive the rest.

The acting, I must admit, has improved tremendously over the five movies. Both sets of actors (old and young) must be given credit here. I've never had problems with the older cast (except the guy playing Dumbledore, of course, but I'll get to that later) - they never fail to deliver. Most of them fit their parts just right (I had my problems with Gary Oldman as Sirius, and even David Thewlis as Lupin, in the third movie, but I've made my peace with that), and I can't imagine anyone else playing them. The Weasley family is picture perfect with Julie Walters and Mark Williams at the head (but what's the deal with not showing me my handsome Bill, yo?) and the Hogwarts staff couldn't be better cast. Emma Thompson makes an adorably scatter-brained Trelawney, Alan Rickman and Maggie Smith are spot-on as McGonagall and Snape and much, much praise goes to Imelda Staunton for an amazing (and incredibly accurate) performance as Dolores Umbridge. While I spent my entire time reading the book loathing the woman, I couldn't bring myself to hate her in the movie because she was just so...right. Not in her actions, of course, but in that she was exactly the way Rowling had portrayed her in the book. Never before has someone so perfectly matched my expectations of a character. Mad props to Ms. Staunton for getting Umbridge so right. Very well played, indeed. Oh, and Helena Bonham Carter looks just mad enough to play someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, so that worked out alright as well.

Evanna Lynch as Luna Lovegood is another example of the perfect casting that helps make this movie so much more enjoyable than the others. She's just the right combination of ditzy, vague, slightly mad and a gentle spirit at the same time, and has just the right voice and float-y personality to make her a perfect match for her book counterpart. Take a bow, casting people. You did well.

Almost everyone in the younger cast gives an even performance this movie. I haven't exactly been subtle in expressing my opinions about the acting talents of one Mr. Radcliffe (I'm sure everyone remembers the incredibly fake scar-clutching stuff from Movie 1), but I'll also be the first to admit there's a world of difference between then and now - he truly has grown through the movies. I find it so much easier now to believe he's Harry Potter, rather than some kid reciting lines. He displays some really good acting chops this movie - good for you, Dan. Also, *small voice* as someone who criticized his look (read: wailed "What the hell has he done to his hair?!") every time I saw a trailer for the movie, I eat my words. He looks fantastic throughout, and I would even go so far as to say that this is the best he's looked after Prisoner of Azkaban. Boy's growing up well.

Rupert Grint and Emma Watson support well, as expected. Watson, as usual, looks too pretty to make a believable Hermione, whereas Grint could just stand there and not say a word and I'd still think of him as Ron - the guy was made for the part. Sadly, they don't have too much of a part to play this time around, which is weird, considering the book deals a lot with the three friendships. It's one of the minor quibbles I have about the movie, but I guess it must've been hard to fit the friendship stuff in between all the action. Sigh. They should've just gone for a lengthier movie - I don't think anyone would've minded.

The rest of the kids comprising Dumbledore's Army are great as well - all the Room of Requirement scenes are a pleasure to watch. I'm a big fan of ensemble casts and seeing all of them in one room in one scene together, and the Room of Requirement scenes pretty much handed that to me in a platter, so I'm happy. But my, how the kids have grown! I bet the casting people didn't expect that the chubby, round fellow they cast for Neville in the first movie would grow up to be the tall, lanky kid he is now - he towers over everyone except the Weasley twins (who are also wonderful, as per the norm)! Speaking of the Weasleys, I wish they'd given Ginny more to do, though. This is the book she comes out of her shell, and becomes the outspoken, tough and confident chick Harry notices in the next book. Movie!Ginny, while present in all the important scenes, didn't really seem to do anything unique - she sort of blended into the surrounding cast. Seeing as how she plays a huge role in the next book, I expected the movie to pay a bit more attention to her this time around, so as to prepare her for the next movie. Oh, well.

Coming to performances I didn't like - Dumbledore. It's a real shame that one of the most interesting characters in the books translates to such an annoying/boring character on screen. I don't know what it is about Michael Gambon, but he just doesn't portray the charm, wit and humour that book!Dumbledore encapsulates. Plus, on the superficial side, he's not as tall. *grumbles* I'm already dreading the next movie, because if book!Dumbledore can get whiny and annoying, movie!Dumbledore will be 10 times worse. Eek.

Moving on, I was pleasantly surprised to note that unlike most of the previous movies, this one managed to include everything that I wanted to see on screen (plus extra - I was pretty sure Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones would get the shove, but I was proved wrong). Of course, given my way, I would just have the movie be 5 hours long and include every single thing from the book, but since that's not possible, I'll settle for having the important stuff make it into the final cut. I don't know if it's because the screenplay writer for this movie was a new guy, but things seemed to flow a lot better, and most of the really important stuff was copied word-to-word from the book (something I, a sentimental overprotective fool, was very pleased about).

Nevertheless, there were some things I felt should've taken up more priority - like the entire sequence at the Ministry of Magic. The special effects were great (the Death Eater masks were just creepy enough to create unease), but it felt far too rushed for such an important scene. Also, the whole suspense in the book was created by having the prophecy destroyed before anyone could hear it, so having the entire gang hear the prophecy before any of the Death Eaters arrived took all the suspense away. Futhermore, the Neville/Harry connection was never touched upon - a big loss, in my opinion, because the tragic irony of Harry Potter is that it could just as easily have been "Neville Longbottom and ...." (who'd read that?! :P).

Other important things missed out, off the top of my head - Mrs. Black, the Grimmauld Place clean-up, Kreacher's betrayal (interesting bit of trivia about that here), the extended Pensieve scene including young Sirius, Lily, Peter and Lupin, Marietta (damn, was I surprised when they made Cho the betrayer instead - talk about hitting two mangoes with a single stone!), "Weasley is our King" and the two Weasleys' addition to the Quidditch team, Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter and the subsequent Quibbler madness, Mr. Weasley and Lockhart at the hospital after the snake attack, the Snape/Sirius hostility, Firenze...the list just goes on and on.

Which is why I keep imploring the few people who've been crazy enough to stay away from the books to just drop the act and start reading as soon as they can. Because as good as the movies are, they can never come close to being as good as the books. There's such a wealth of information, humour and character development in there that just can't be shoe-horned into a 2 hour movie made to excite and thrill.

Anyway, all things said and done, I still enjoyed this movie far more than I have enjoyed the previous 4. And that's another step in the right direction.

In related news, in a double-treat for Potter fans, book 7 releases in a week's time. I officially can't wait.

Looking for something?

2007-06-30T19:22:00.000+08:00

StatCounter is this very interesting website that allows you to keep track of the people who visit your blog. It gives you some really cool tidbits, like how many people visited your blog in the past week, how many are newcomers and how many are returning visitors, where they're from (I have visitors from the Netherlands, woo!), what pages on your blog are the most popular and so on. But by far the most interesting (and the most entertaining) of all these statistics is the "Keyword Analysis". This is a feature that lets you in on the people that chanced upon your blog by searching for something on Google/Yahoo/other search engines. More importantly, it tells you just what they searched for.

This post got my curiosity piqued. What would my Keyword Analysis show? And would it be as funny? I'd opened my own StatCounter account barely a few weeks ago, and seeing as how I only have a few regular visitors on my blog, I wasn't sure there'd be anything to see. Well, I was wrong. I got a mighty good laugh at what searches had gotten people into my blog, and since laughter is best shared, here are the gems.

james franco clueless - Hee! My one instance of James Franco gushing got a hit. Yay, James!
tia dalma's hairstyle - Bwah. I wonder if somebody actually wanted to replicate the 'do. *shudder*
hindi songs down memory lane - Ah, this is pretty specific. Somebody was actually searching for a previous post of mine. I'm touched! *sniff* (Or maybe somebody just had a bout of nostalgia and wanted to go "down memory lane" and search for some nice old Hindi songs. Ha, what a site to land on, in that case!)
80s song from clueless - There's an '80s song from the movie Clueless? Ah, the things you learn by blogging.
multiple jack sparrows - Ah. Someone else apparently appreciated the multiple Jack copies in PotC3. I approve.
tom welling - Awww, a fellow TW fan! Yay! Though I must say, this person must've been pretty desperate - imagine how many TW-related sites he/she (though I'm guessing it's most probably a "she") must've had to get through to finally get to my blog!
does tom welling want to do more movies - I don't really know, but if that question was phrased "Do you want Tom Welling to do more movies?", my answer would be a definite "Hell, yeah!"
annalakshmi singapore price student - Ha! Someone's hoping students get a discount at Annalakshmi, a la KFC and McDonalds! Good news for you, buddy - you can put in as much of a discount as you want!
bizarro pies sparrow pirates - Wow. Individually, those words make sense - "bizarro" and "pies" are Smallville references, and "sparrow" and "pirates" are obviously PotC searches - but put them together and you have one truly bizarre search term. Hee!
how to keep a virgo/libra cusp man interested - Oh, darling. If only I knew. But there's a very good chance I won't end up with a man born on the same day as me, so I don't really need to know. Good luck with your guy, though!
tobey maguire emo hairstyle - Heh heh heh. Someone else shares my thought about Peter Parker's "emo" style. GMTA!
criticizing the movie clueless - Hmm. I haven't really criticized the movie, but I have expressed absolute horror at being associated in any way with it. Good enough, eh?
nose freckles - Ha! Nose freckles rule. And while I'm at it, I might as well share my newest freckles-related discovery. Jensen Ackles. (His freckles are known in the fan-world as "frackles". Fangirls are geniuses, I tell you.)

So there you have it. The bizarre list of search words that lets some pretty interesting people into my blog. The craziest part is, some of these searches take 20 or more pages to reveal my blog as a hit. Who has the patience or time to sit through 20 pages of search hits and then come read a blog after all that? People will never cease to amaze me.

Anyway, to all those people with StatCounter accounts - got any stories to share? :)

Hostel? Hotel!

2007-06-20T11:24:00.000+08:00

Moving is second nature to me. It's in my blood. Being a banker's daughter, I've packed, been shuttled around and seen enough carton boxes and duct tape to last me a lifetime. And I'm only 19, for crying out loud.

Coming to university hasn't made much of a difference. Well, it has, but not in the way I would've liked it to. Ironically enough, I now move even more than I used to in my school days - instead of once in three years, it's now once in four months. And the best part is that one out of every two shifts is back to the same friggin' room as before. Sheesh.

Anyway, come July and I'll be moving again. Out of my comfortable space in my brother and sister-in-law's place, where I've been bumming for the semester holidays, and back into hostel territory. The term "hostel territory" used to stand for Prince George's Park, my abode for the past two years, but this year, my friends and I will be moving to another hostel, purely on the basis of convenience. It's not a big deal - just a move from one place of residence in the university to another - but for a multitude of reasons, it doesn't feel so trivial. It feels like a move away from home (which is ironic, considering it was in PGP that all of us had our first pangs of homesickness). So while it's exciting to wonder what adventures our stay in the new hostel will bring us, it's still painful to say goodbye to the place that housed us in our most vulnerable years, and gave us so many wonderful memories to cherish.

So, as a tribute-of-sorts to our (now ex-) home away from home - a picspam! And if this isn't proof of how much I love the place, the fact that I'm doing a picspam with a subpar wireless connection should seal all doubts. Yes? Ok then.

The pretty entrance sign to the prettiest hostel in the university. Prince George's Park Residences. I love that it's so high-funda sounding.

A view of the foyer from the entrance. (Trivia: according to my phone dictionary, "foyer" isn't a word. "Dozer" apparently is. Pfft.)

Georgie's Mart. The place to go for anything. Anything you need in a hurry, that is. NTUC and Mustafa are cheaper, even though they're located much farther away. (And yes, that is a vital consideration for hostel students. At least the ones not on scholarship.)

This is the building's UFO pad. Aliens often come over to the hostel during exam times to absorb the brain power of a thousand studious studying students, so they can use it to fuel their space ships. Kidding. This is just a fancy shot of some random fancy thing in my very fancy hostel building. Fancy, huh?

The corridor on my side of the cluster. See that door on the right-most side? Mine! (I've never noticed that blue fire-extinguisher till now, I swear. Sheesh. So much for fire drills.) There's a "no shoes on the corridor" policy (to make it easier for people to make a mad dash for the exit in case the building catches fire), so of course, there are shoes all over the place. It's comforting to know that even in Singapore (the "fine" country), rules are made to be broken. I feel like I'm home again!

The view from the cluster. Very condo-ish, huh? The only thing missing is a pool.

My room door. See that fancy knob on top of the "D"? That's for the transponder (no, not transponster - that's not even a word!) better known in less primitive areas (like normal hostels) as "the key". The transponder is more gadget-y and fancy looking (and it's great to impress the hell out of people still using normal keys), but it performs pretty much the same function as a normal key. (Damn, I wish I'd taken a picture of my fancy transponder now.)

My lurvely room! (Don't mock the mismatched bed-sheet and pillow cover! Also, did the flowery bed-sheets give away my gender?) The bed occupies most of the picture because the bed occupies most of my room. To the left of the picture (if I had a camera that took panaromic pictures) would be my wardrobe cupboard and to the right would be my attached-to-the-wall writing desk. Anyhoo, who really cares about the room? There are much more important things to see here, like...

The kitchen! The lovely, clean, pretty kitchen with multi-coloured chairs! The awesome kitchen with the big sink, the convenient microwave, griller and boiler and...

...the gorgeous view!

More random, pretty shots from the kitchen windows. And most importantly...

Le toilette! I didn't want to violate anyone's privacy, so I just took a shot of the clean sinks and the huge mirrors, but it gives you an idea of what the whole thing might look like, doesn't it? I'm very picky about bathrooms and toilets and this one outdid even my expectations.

I had to leave the hostel before dark to get back home, so that's all the pictures I could take. Had I stayed there a bit longer, pictures of the food court, the TV rooms, the reading rooms, the lounges, the gym, the basket-ball, badminton and tennis courts and many other things would've followed. Unfortunately, this is all I had time for.

Pictures are a poor substitute for memories anyway. The years spent in that fabulous hostel shall not be forgotten soon, for it is the place I found my home away from home, made my first few friends and spent some of the most memorable times of my life since I've come to NUS.

But we all have to move on someday. I don't regret making the decision to move to another hostel, because I'm sure the new place will bring with it many more friends to make and many more memories to cherish. So, to the old place - goodbye. I'll miss you. I'll visit you. I won't forget you.

To the new place - hey! Got room in there for one more?

Pirates, ahoy!

2007-06-06T00:21:00.000+08:00

Having just watched Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, the pirate in me (fondly known to some as Captain Lazy Gracey) has to say -

"Arr! Me eyeballs, they're poppin' outta 'em sockets, mate!"

(Spoilers for the movie follow, so if you've not watched it yet, I'd advice you to skip this post for the time being.)

- PotC3 is one of those movies that just screams "theatre-watch". The action, the special effects, the costumes, the make-up and pretty faces blown up to huge proportions all make the movie nothing short of a visual treat. My eyes approve.

- Johnny Depp must've been a pirate in his previous life, because he's just tailor-made for the role of Jack Sparrow. His relatively small screen-time in the movie (his first appearance is about half an hour into the movie) is sort of compensated by the presence of multiple Jack copies (all just as funny as the original) in quite a few scenes. A miniature Jack Sparrow hanging on to the beard-thingy of a life-size Jack Sparrow cannot not be funny.

- Keira Knightley generally annoys the hell out of me (and I realize this may be my "Hatred of Leading Ladies" syndrome speaking), but I'll be damned if she doesn't hold her close-ups really well. Girl's got one of the cleanest, clearest faces I've seen in a while. Curses.

- Not to be outdone, Orlando Bloom cruises through the movie just as prettily, holding his close-ups just as well. And while I completely dislike long hair on men, I must grudgingly admit that Bloom rocks the haggard, long-haired, dirty-faced look. Damn those pretty men!

- Depp's (or rather, his nose's) close-up has the added advantage of freckles. And as far as I'm concerned, nose freckles = sexy! (And yes, there are an awful number of close-ups in the movie. The director sure made full use of his pretty cast, huh?)

- Tia Dalma's accent is awesome, even if it is a bit hard to understand at times. (Bonus points if Naomie Harris has a completely normal accent in real life, which I'm sure she does.)

- Barbossa's back, and he's fantastic. Welcome back, mate!

- Much love for Davy Jones. Apart from having the prettiest blue eyes ever, his squiggly tentacles fascinate me endlessly. (Especially considering the actor who plays him looks like the most normal person ever.)

- Chow Yun Fat's role isn't really all that great, and it barely makes an impact on the movie. "Welcome to Singapore" is probably his best line (though I'll fully admit that I'm biased) - pretty disappointing, actually.

- Mad props to the make-up and costume department. Anyone who can take a whole bunch of ordinary people and turn them into the most bizarre-looking creatures has my complete awe and respect. Davy Jones, Bootstrap Turner, Tia Dalma, Sao Feng and the entire crew of The Flying Dutchman are all excellent examples of brilliant make-up jobs.

- The story itself is alas, highly confusing and drags on for almost three hours. A Hindi movie goer like myself might have the patience to sit through that much, but what will become of the people accustomed to 2-hour long movies?

- Will and Elizabeth were boring in the first movie, boring in the second, and true to tradition, are boring in the third. I can't bring myself to give a crap about them. Getting married in the middle of an apocalyptic fight? Whatever, man. (Like Phoebe would say, "Yup. I'm a hard-ass!")

- Thankfully, there's very little of the Elizabeth/Jack "romance" that plagued the second movie. Will and Elizabeth are boring, but Elizabeth and Jack are just icky. Bleargh.

- Way too much attention is paid to Elizabeth for my liking. Captain first and then Pirate King? Puh-leeze. The whole thing is a bit ridiculous. (Yes, I don't like her, and no, I'm not jealous! Jeez!)

- Continuing with the ongoing movie tradition of killing off pretty characters after making the audience start to love them(what is wrong with these people?!), Will Turner gets bumped off in this one. Thankfully, he comes back. As Captain of The Flying Dutchman (who saw that one coming?!). Sans crusty barnacles and dried-up starfish sticking to his face. Phew.

- Since "ferries the dead across the river" is an oft-used phrase in the movie, can anyone remember which mythical figure it was that actually ferried the dead across the river? I seem to vaguely recall that a constellation is named after this guy, but for the life of me, I can't remember his name. I spent quite a bit of time at the movie scratching my head over it.

- I'm also wondering where I've heard the name "Calypso" before (although in my head, it's spelled "Callipso"). Speaking of whom, that whole angle is a big disappointment too. She gets freed and to unleash her destruction upon the people who imprisoned her, she creates a giant whirlpool? Um, ok. *snort*

- The supporting cast is awesome. In fact, I enjoyed them more than the regular cast. They add a very natural comic touch to the scenes, and they're very believable in their roles. Kudos, ye supportin' pirates!

So, all in all, good. Not great, not horrid. A movie-watch is definitely recommended, but it's not worth a DVD buy.

Cap'n Lazy Gracey gives this one 3 pirate eye-patches out of a possible 5.

If You're Lazy And You Know It...

2007-06-01T20:36:00.000+08:00

...do some tests! They're simple, they're easy, and best of all, unlike those pesky real-world tests, you don't have to think much. Hmm, maybe one of these tests will tell me just how lazy I am. You know, put it in numbers or something. Graphs, pie-charts, percentages - you know. Ahem. Anyway...

You Are Mexican Food

Spicy yet dependable.
You pull punches, but people still love you.

What Kind of Food Are You?

Yum. I'm craving for some enchilladas now.

Your Movie Buff Quotient: 32%

You're a very typical movie goer. You like movies, but you are by no means a movie buff.
You've seen many of the biggest blockbusters, but you haven't really started digging in to the classics.

Are You a Movie Buff?

Gotta watch more movies, eh? Darn. There goes that time I'd spared for "studying". Oh, well. On the bright side, my Spider-Man 3 review is still valid! Blockbusters rule, yo.

You Are Emerald Green

Deep and mysterious, it often seems like no one truly gets you.
Inside, you are very emotional and moody - though you don't let it show.
People usually have a strong reaction to you... profound love or deep hate.
But you can even get those who hate you to come around. There's something naturally harmonious about you.

What Color Green Are You?

Hee. Poor mopey, angsty, broody me. (I'm like the female Clark Kent, except without powers. Er, or the alien heritage. Or the good looks, for that matter. Um, forget I ever made the analogy, k?) I did this just 'cuz my blog page is green (at least at present), but I don't see how the questions relate in any way to green-ness. Does this mean my envy is precious? (Heh, I crack myself up.) I wonder what other "green" options there were - grass? Goo? The CW home page?

Your Pirate Name Is...

Captain Lazy Gracey

What's Your Pirate Name?

Arr! I swear, I didn't tamper with this! BlogThings just got a whole lot freakier. Mind powers! :O

You Are 18% Evil

You are good. So good, that you make evil people squirm.
Just remember, you may need to turn to the dark side to get what you want!

How Evil Are You?

Boo. I'm not that harmless. Just try insulting Tom Welling and my true colours will show. Rrowr.

You Are Elektra

There's really no superhero with more style than you.
Because who could beat being sexy assasin ninja?

What Superhero Are You?

Heh heh heh. Now, if only I could magically get Jennifer Garner's abs and a Ben Affleck-esque superhero boyfriend.

You are 53% Libra

How Libra Are You?

Ah, figures. I'm a Cusp (Virgo/Libra), so my other 50% must be Virgo-ish. Eek.

Your Superhero Profile

Your Superhero Name is The Nuclear Glider
Your Superpower is Vampirism
Your Weakness is 80s Music
Your Weapon is Your Slime Shotgun
Your Mode of Transportation is Snowboard

What's your Superhero Name?

Har har. Slime shotgun? Ew! Snowboard? I've never seen real snow in my freakin' life! And what does "weakness" mean - I can't stand '80s music, or that I love it so much that I get very distracted and stop...er, vampiring long enough for people to gun me down with silver bullets? (Yes, I watched enough Buffy and Angel to know more than I need to know about vampires.) And how on earth does sucking the life out of people make me a superhero?

You Are Jean Grey

Although your fate is often unknown, you always seem to survive (even after death).
Your mind is your greatest weapon, literally!

Powers: telepathy and telekinesis, the ability to project thoughts into the mind of others, communication with animals

Which of the X-Men Are You?

Jean Grey? Jean Grey?! Ugh! You have got to be kidding me. Just because I think Scott Summers is cute as hell doesn't mean I'm Jean freakin' Grey! That woman has no personality at all! And she's the reason Scott's dead! Nooooo! (Yes, I have issues with fictional characters. Mind stepping out of the way so I can continue yelling?)

Your Scholastic Strength Is Deep Thinking

You aren't afraid to delve head first into a difficult subject, with mastery as your goal.
You are talented at adapting, motivating others, managing resources, and analyzing risk.

You should major in:

Philosophy
Music
Theology
Art
History
Foreign language

What Should You Major In?

Sigh. Notice how Life Sciences is nowhere in the list. I'm doomed!

Your Vocabulary Score: A-

Congratulations on your multifarious vocabulary!
You must be quite an erudite person.

How's Your Vocabulary?

Ha! A-! I'm considering switching professions. Now instead of studying bugs under microscopes, I should devote my life to teaching them how to spell. How much fun would that be? :D

You Are Not Scary

Everyone loves you. Isn't that sweet?

How Scary Are You?

Aw, how nice. But you know, just because I wouldn't be a mortician or show up on someone's doorstep with a chain-saw if they screwed me over doesn't exactly make me "not scary at all". Like I said before, insult Tom Welling, and my truly scary side can take over. To quote myself, "rrowr". Beware!

Um, I'm getting a little carried away. So, to round up things...

You Are 53% Addicted to Blogthings

You're a Blogthings fiend - addicted but not totally dependent.
So what if you know your personality type by heart?
And while you may feel like Blogthings is crack...
There are people much worse off than you!

How Addicted To Blogthings Are You?

Finally. A nice, succint description of moi. A good way to round up a perfectly pointless post, dontcha think?

Phew, this stuff is tiring. I deserve a break after all this. Hmm, maybe I should go lie in my comfortably cool bed and dream a bit...

Serves you right!

2007-05-23T20:55:00.000+08:00

Sometimes, total strangers can make your day. Three random Chinese dudes did me the honour today.

For the past few weeks, I've been volunteering over at Annalakshmi's, the Indian restaurant at Chinatown. The place works on a simple concept - eat whatever you want, pay how much ever you like. It sounds bone-headed, and would probably fail miserably if executed in India, but here in Singapore it works wonders. Especially on foreigners, who (poor souls) have no clue how much these things are likely to cost in normal restaurants and so end up erring on the side of caution and paying rather generously. I'm sure the place gets its share of miserly hogs too, but I doubt it tips the scale much.

Anyway, the place is run almost entirely by volunteers, and relies almost entirely on word-of-mouth to "recruit" these volunteers. People sign up to help whenever they're free, and amazingly enough, sufficient numbers of people turn up every day to keep the place going. Volunteering is roughly divided into two branches in terms of place of work - "floor" and behind the scenes. The floor people take the orders, the BTS people make the food and arrange it appropriately and the floor people take it out to the customers and serve them. It all sounds simple enough, but when the place starts filling up, things can get pretty crazy and downright chaotic.

But no matter how crazy the day gets (the large crowds are fondly called "Friday crowds", no matter what day of the week it is), it's all worth it. At the end of the day, you go home with 3 things - a free meal (which, ironically, feels well-earned), the satisfaction of having spent your time and energy productively and the happiness of having fed a few hungry stomachs.

I was stationed behind the scenes on my first day of volunteering and that's where I stayed from then on, but I'd always had the desire to see what it'd be like to be on the floor. The stories the floor people told us during our 3 o' clock lunches (which we'd have after all the customers had left) would leave me curious and longing to experience it first-hand. I got the opportunity to serve somebody one day, but the guy was so busy chatting with his colleague seated opposite him that he barely acknowledged my presence. I'd not expected anything different, but the incident somehow dampened my fervent wish to be on the floor, at least for a good while.

Somewhere deep down, I must've still wanted to give it another shot because as soon as I saw the opportunity present itself again today, I went into overdrive. As we were wrapping up with lunch, 3 young Chinese fellows came into the restaurant and took a seat at one of the tables. I shot an expectant look at our head volunteer/co-ordinator, a look she correctly interpreted as "Can I, can I, can I, pretty please?" She gave me an amused nod and I skipped off with the order pad, extremely happy and nervous.

To be honest, the dudes didn't do anything extra-ordinary. They were pleasantly chatty, and inquired a bit about the menus (the general onion/garlic queries). I recommended some stuff to them, they agreed. They gave me their orders, I went BTS and got their food ready. I went back to serve them and they received the food well, commenting on how good it looked/smelled, etc. I smiled at them, told them to enjoy their meals and then left them to their food. Normal stuff, right? For some reason, it got me ecstatic. The minute I was out of earshot, I started "Yay!"ing. They'd asked me for advice! I'd recommended stuff! They'd listened to me! They'd smiled at me! They'd been polite! I was jumping around the place for at least an hour after that, I was that overjoyed.

On the way back home, I wondered what had gotten me so ecstatic. Had it just been the polite smiles and the pleasant chit-chat? It must've been, because the fellas hadn't done anything else, really. I'd always known instinctively to be nice, polite and cheerful to waiters/waitresses, but today it hit home how important it really is. People take it for granted that since they're paying for their food, their words of appreciation aren't needed. They couldn't be more wrong. Sometimes, the odd kind word makes all the difference. They probably don't even realize it, but just by observing the codes of conduct, the Chinese dudes totally made my day.

So the next time you go to a restaurant, or buy food from the stall owner at the local food-court, smile. Be pleasant. Throw in an appreciative word or two. Take the time to look up when your food is brought to you and say a cheerful "thank you" to the waiter/waitress. When you find your food particularly appetizing, send a word of appreciation to the chef slaving away behind the scenes. It won't cost you anything, but it'll mean the world to them. We're all human beings, we thrive on pats on the back and the occasional kind word. It seems redundant to even say this, but it's surprising how many people take this stuff for granted. The message is simple, really. Treat the people who serve you right, and they'll serve you right too. That's all there is to it. Take it from someone who's been on both sides of the counter.

I spy, with my little eye...

2007-05-16T22:10:00.000+08:00

...Spider-man 3! Was it good? Was it bad? Was it neither, and just excrutiatingly boring? Well, whatcha askin' me for - read on and find out! (Or, easier, watch the movie. It'll probably be quicker than reading this review. I have blogger diarrhoea! Er, not like that. You know what I mean.)

The Good

- James Franco. Seriously, I think he's the only reason I watched all three Spider-man movies in the first place. The man is so damn good-looking, despite not having any specifically good-looking features. Sigh. I got weary with his character about halfway through, what with the writers flip-flopping him around from good to bad and then back to good, so I just stopped bothering with the plot and concentrated on the pretty (hey, it's what got me through Smallville for six years!). 'Cuz boy, was there a lot of it to go around. (I must admit though, that I got a bit freaked out when after two and a half movies of brooding and moping and generally being the bad boy, Harry became suddenly cheerful after getting boinked on the head. I mean, I could count a gazillion laugh lines every time the guy smiled. Creepy. Yet awfully adorable. Yes, I know. I'm off my rocker. *splashes happily in the shallow side of the pool*)

- The special effects. Good Lord, they literally had me on the edge of my seat all through the movie. I cringed every time someone went banging into a building/glass window/brick wall - and with every fight scene lasting several minutes, there was a lot of violence going on. But this is probably one of the very few times I've been able to watch so much violence without feeling squicked out, so thumbs up to the special effects guys. A lot of the stuff was very obvious CGI, but it didn't detract from any of the scenes. If there's anything about the movie worth watching (other than Mr. Franco, of course), it's this. And it's one of the three reasons a theatre-watch is highly recommended (the other two being James Franco (duh!) and Tobey Maguire's pretty blue eyes).

- Stan Lee! OMG, I totally wasn't expecting that cameo. I geeked out when he guest-starred on Heroes, but watching him in a movie that wouldn't exist were it not for him was truly spectacular. And I'm not even a comic book nerd!

- Gwen Stacy. She was pretty pointless (all she did was serve as a doll Peter could parade around in front of MJ and Eddie), but she was fun to watch. She was nice to Peter, chirpy and happy (unlike a certain lady of doom), didn't stand for Peter's bull-shitting with her, and actually apologized to MJ after Peter used her to goad MJ. Plus, she was totally working the Gwen Stefani hair, which is a very difficult style to work. You go, girl! (She's a part of the Spider-man comics, for those not in the know, and is generally considered Peter's first love, sort of like the Lana Lang to Spider-man's Superman. And she apparently dies a very tragic death in the comics. Ack. God, I'm glad they didn't go that way in the movie - imagine the angst that would've followed!)

- Sandman. I didn't care for the guy, or his woe-is-me daughter, but they cast perfectly for the part. The guy playing him was huge and had the most gigantic, blank face I've seen in a long time. And the special effects for him were freakin' awesome. Peter emptying his boots of sand after his first fight with him was hilarious too.

- The black costume. Damn, was it awesome or what? I'm all for good Spider-man and all, but that suit was just sexy as hell. Plus, the poster for the movie (above) was what made me watch the movie in the first place. It isn't technically correct, considering black-suit Spidey ain't no Bizarro, but it's damn cool nonetheless.

- The TV show-style opening credits and the "Previously"s. As someone who didn't remember much of what happened in the other two movies (other than the fact that MJ was irritating), it was nice to have a recap of sorts of the stuff that was relevant to the current movie.

The Bad (and the Whatevers)

- Goth!Peter. God, he was so hilarious. I get that the whole Emo Guy phase was meant to be funny, but he was less ha-ha funny and more "Geez, would you look at him? He so cannot pull this off!" funny. Tobey Maguire should really stick to the boy-next-door look, because the emo bangs of doom (that's Peter Petrelli's area of speciality) and the mascara-ed eyes? Not his strong point.

- They freakin' killed Harry off. The hell? It wasn't enough that they un-prettied him by mutilating half his face, they had to go ahead and kill him off altogether? Freakin' sadists. What will I come back for if there's ever a Spider-man 4? Damn you, Raimi!

- The massive "Murder of Uncle Ben" retcon. What the hell? They needed a new villian so they went ahead and connected Sandman's story to an already boring previous story? Man, the poor guy (Uncle Ben) was in the first movie for two minutes and they went ahead and used that for the next 6 hours of angsty revenge-filled storylines. Bo-ring.

- Topher Grace was really good in his role (and hello, pretty!), but for the life of me, I can't shake the image of Eric Forman from my head every time I see him. To me, he'll always be Eric (and I'll see traces of him in whatever role he plays), just like Ashton Kutcher will always be dumb-ass Kelso. Actually Ashton recently got promoted to dumb-ass underage Kelso, who's married to a much older Demi Moore, but Kelso nonetheless. Just like no matter what movies the Friends star in, they'll always be the six goofy kids in Central Perk to me. Side-effects of starring on a good, long-running show, I guess.

- As my brother pointed out to me after the movie, what was with the random black goo that dropped to Earth in a meteor shower? I wonder how many people even caught the scene. I'm guessing many didn't, which would explain why I kept getting questions like "Isn't that black thing part of Harry's experiments?" and "Where did that thing come from, again?" all through the movie. For something that played such an important role in later parts of the movie, its arrival was just glossed over. Weird.

- I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing, but I kept comparing everything in the movie to Superman. It was probably good, because it kept me looking out for details and interested in the movie (when otherwise I would've fallen asleep through everything but the action sequences). The bad part? It kept distracting me from the story I was actually supposed to be watching. Eh, you can't have it both ways, I guess. But the similarities! Did anyone else notice them?

The Daily Bugle = The Daily Planet
Peter Parker (photographer for the DB, takes pictures of himself as Spider-man) = Clark Kent (reporter for the DP, writes stories about himself as Superman)
JJ Jameson = Perry White
Eddie Brock = Jimmy Olsen

See? Don't you see them now? No? Sigh. Am I totally nuts or do I just watch too much Smallville? I'm thinking both.

The Ugly

- The Peter/MJ saga. Gah, it was like watching Smallville and Clark/Lana all over again. Both dysfunctional couples, both painfully boring, and both making me wonder what the hell the guy sees in the girl. Also, I've had it with the same old routine of getting MJ in trouble to get Peter off his ass. Can we please not have her falling/dangling from a tall building/web/cab in the sky be the high point of all the movies?

- MJ Watson. If there's one person who could give Smallville's Lana Lang a run for her money in terms of most annoying superhero girlfriend, it is this woman. (Do I hear MG gasp? She thinks I consider Lana my worst enemy. Which would technically be true, but enter MJ, and I suddenly find Lana a whole lot more tolerable. Er, not really. I hate both equally.) I swear, there wasn't a single scene involving MJ that I didn't yawn my way through. She's annoying, passive aggressive, irritating, whiny and self-centered, but good actors have been known to salvage potentially irritating characters. Kirsten Dunst, unfortunately, doesn't belong to that lot, because nothing she did made me feel any more sympathetic towards MJ.

- Tobey Maguire crying. Oh, man. When Peter cried after MJ dumped him? I laughed hysterically (in my head, of course. Didn't want the audience to think I was nutty). When he cried at Harry's death? Hysterical laughter. I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to be reacting that way to those scenes, but Maguire is so damn comical when he switches on the water-works. Within the blink of an eye (literally), he managed to disconnect me from the movie altogether. Hee.

Well, that's about it. Yeah, I'm done criticizing now. If you've watched the movie, feel free to agree/disagree on any of the points made above. If you haven't, go! Watch the movie, and then come back and agree/disagree on any of the points made above. Hey, a good discussion on a grade B movie is always fun, right?

She & me

2007-05-14T12:07:00.000+08:00

She's tall, fair and pretty. People sometimes say that if they look really hard, they can find similarities between us. I always feel they're just saying that to make me feel good. In reality, I look nothing like her. She's fair, I'm dark. She's got an oval face, mine is round. Her nose is razor sharp, mine is as blunt as noses can get. She's got green-grey cat eyes, mine are plain ol' boring brown. She's lean, I'm chubby (though that's one thing I can actually change and am on my way to doing so). She's tall, and I'm...er, not so tall. Okay, I'm just a teeny bit shorter, but still. As far as looks are concerned, she's the anti-thesis of me.

But there are similarities in other places. We both share an overwhelming love for music. We sometimes lie in bed late at night, singing bits of songs long forgotten. She plays the violin wonderfully, and I still remember the times I used to sit and listen to her play. I listened so often that I sub-consciously memorized the tunes she'd play, and years later, when one of thee songs was played at a concert, I couldn't resist jumping up and down in glee, just because I recognized the tune. I had no idea what the words were, I didn't know anything about the song except for the fact that it was something she used to play very often. I missed her terribly in that instant. Everytime I go for a classical concert these days, I always wish she's sitting beside me listening, because I know it is exactly the kind of thing she'd enjoy, the kind we'd discuss till late in the nights.

She doesn't know the names of the latest English pop and rock bands, and can't catch the lyrics to the songs I make her listen to, but that doesn't prevent her from encouraging me to keep singing, regardless of what it is I'm singing. She doesn't know who Phoebe eventually gets married to in Friends, but she makes an effort to sit down and watch a couple of seasons, even when the jokes sometimes fly over her head, just because I talk so much about it. She might not see what I see in Tom Welling (and might even make a couple of statements referring to him as a monkey), but she resists the urge to reach out and vigorously shake/slap me whenever I go into Welling-related trances. She might fall asleep every time she picks up a Harry Potter book to read, but that doesn't stop her from trying to finish as many pages as she can before she dozes off, simply because she knows how much I like it. She gets mad every so often and yells at me, but that doesn't stop her from coming up to me later to tell me she's only doing everything she does for my good. She squirms whenever I get overly huggy and kissy (she calls me me "eeshal" and says she should've named me Esha), but that doesn't stop her from giving me a chirpy "Good night, wuv you!" every night before she goes to sleep.

Yesterday, she could hardly contain her surprise as my brother, sis-in-law and I gifted her with a small hamper of some things she wanted (magnetic whiteboards to stick on the fridge, static brushes, green tea, etc.) and took her out to a nice dinner, followed by a cheesecake dessert (none of which I paid for - I have a lot of people to repay once I start working!). It was simple, it was homely and it was wonderful. Just like her.

I mutter those three words to her very often (more than necessary, she probably thinks - aren't these things supposed to be taken for granted? Do they need this much reiteration?), but I hardly ever show it. She's in town for a month of my holidays, and despite being away from her for four months at a stretch, I still manage to get angry with her and pick fights. I want her to leave back for home with good memories and warm thoughts, not worried about whether or not I'll be able to take care of myself. I'm therefore out on a mission to prove to her that she has nothing to worry about. I don't think I'm doing a very good job, but I want her to know I'm trying.

And because, in my opinion, it really cannot be said enough...

I love you, Mom. I really, really do.

To bum or not to bum

2007-05-08T22:45:00.000+08:00

I'm currently feeling happy, guilt-free, content and satisfied. And that can only mean one thing. Holidays have begun! Yay! This insane rush of happiness that accompanies the end of every semester cannot possibly be a good thing, because it obviously means that I'm way more excited at the prospect of a month or so away from studies, classes, lecture notes and text-books than I should be. Eh, but who doesn't feel this way at the end of a particularly bad semester topped with spectacularly crappy exams? Holidays, no matter how long, just seem like a sweet release at this point.

My end-of-sem celebrations usually involve a trip with friends to anyplace outside the wretched campus (which isn't really wretched at all, but feels that way after being holed up in it for weeks on end), most often for a movie-watching of some sort, but this time, I decided to unload my head the direct way - I got a much-needed haircut (I feel like such a guy saying that - are girls ever supposed to "need" haircuts?). My heart and head both much lighter, it felt like an appropriate way to start the holidays afresh, after the fiasco of the past few months.

I now have a month ahead of me to do whatever I please, and I'm sitting here trying to figure out what exactly it is that I please. I've a rudimentary plan in my head as to the general stuff I'd like to do during the holidays - regain my enthusiasm for books, read more, watch more movies, blog more, get into a good exercise regime and hopefully lose a bit of weight - but a more specific plan is yet to shape up. I'd originally thought of getting a part-time job at an eatery/cafe nearby to keep myself busy and to earn a buck or two while at it, but a quick search a few days ago proved to be futile - I applied to and got rejected by Geláre, Starbucks, Café Cartel, Häagen-Dazs and Thai Express all in a matter of minutes. I make it sound worse than it was (most of these places were looking for people who could work for longer periods than I could offer), but I still find it amusing that on my very first job-hunt, I got five rejections within an hour. A sign of things to come, maybe? Sigh. At times like these, I desperately wish I could freeze time and save myself the inevitable struggle and difficulty that comes with "growing up". Anyway, I'll prowl around my neighbourhood shops for a few more days, but if nothing pans out, I can still spend my time usefully and benefically by volunteering at Annalakshmi with my mom and sister-in-law. Oh, well. We'll see. In the meanwhile, I'll try and keep this space updated with info about the stuff I do these holidays, including possible movie reviews, book updates and more.

It's the end of a long, stressful and arduous academic year, and I can't wait to start afresh. Here's to new beginnings. *clink*

Tuned In

2007-04-30T17:01:00.000+08:00

Exams are probably the most fascinating times of university life. Certainly not the most enjoyable, but the best chance to get an inside peek at the truly warped psyche of stressed students at their wits' end. Bizarre-ness abounds.

I usually belong to the relatively normal group of students at these times (*ignores post below*), but every once in a while the wackiness gets to me too. Today was one of those "every once in a while" days.

Being the avid music-freak that I am, I usually have a song running in my head at all times. It's not always pleasant, but I've learned to live with it. It's like a playlist on shuffle up there, except the tracks don't change as often. There's usually one song playing over and over again (sometimes just bits of it), and this usually goes on till I accidently hear some other tune, after which the latter replaces the former and goes on and on. You get the drift.

Today, as I got onto the bus that would take me to my exam hall (where I was to write my Linguistics exam), I heard the bus radio. I groaned inwardly, knowing that whatever song was playing was very likely going to get stuck in my head and sit there till the end of my exam. "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter came on first (oh, the irony!), followed by Selena's "Dreaming of You". The bus got too full after that for me to hear anything else, so I ended up humming the latter as I got off the bus and into the exam hall.

Funnily enough, as I sat doing some last minute revision outside the hall, my mind grew silent and by the time I entered the hall for my exam, I realized that the shuffle player up there had switched off by itself - power failure! I sat at my desk, pleasantly surprised, but gave no further thought to it as I got down to the nitty-gritty. The examiners gave the go-sign a few minutes later and I took to reading the question paper.

And that's when it happened. Question 1 on the paper was on verb types and after making a few mental notes, I proceeded to Question 2, which was related to phrases. Written in big, bold letters was the sentence:

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree."

Oh, dear. My brain got to "my true love gave to me" and immediately completed the sentence with "a tot'lly insufficient dowry". And then proceeded to sing the rest of the darn song. Complete with the exaggerated South Indian accent and the distractingly catchy beats, plus visuals of a tiny Elvis look-alike, his saree-clad, big-eyed wife and his two nosy in-laws. Just perfect. I've had songs running through my head during exams before, but never have they been so detailed and complete with imagery. I damned all the examiners I could think of for using that particular sentence to test me on phrase types, but that's about as far as I got before the song started replaying in my head. Again, and again, and again. I finished the paper rather quickly, and in the 45 minutes that I spent checking it, managed to remember what pseudo!Elvis' true love had given to him on all 12 days of Christmas.

I'm afraid I gave a very wrong impression to all those examiners who caught me wearing a pained expression all through the exam, looking balefully at my answer-sheet. I had no problems with the paper as such, but it's not a walk in the park having "12 Days of Christmas: Indian Style" running through your head when you're trying very hard to concentrate on a paper you want to do well in.

Sigh. Stranger things do happen in University, so who am I to complain? I can only hope that the remainder of my papers do not have suggestive lines that can be converted into songs with catchy tunes and addictive beats. I don't think I have much to worry about though, considering my other two exams will be on Molecular Biology and Metabolism. So, unless there exists a song on the Urea Cycle...

Oh crap.

Weirdo-meter: Beep, beep!

2007-04-10T22:24:00.000+08:00

Tag! I usually like these things 'cuz I can churn out a new post without doing too much thinking, but this one got all the little grey cells a firin'. Does everything have to involve thinking these days? And so much of it, at that? What happened to mindless, thoughtless fun? Le sigh. Anyway...

Instructions: Each player of this game starts off by giving 6 weird things about themselves. People who get tagged need to write in a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rules clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. After you do that, leave them each a comment letting them know you tagged them and ask them to read your blog.

Alrighty. Six weird things. Should be a piece o' cake, right? I mean, I'm always going on about how weird I am - so it shouldn't be too hard to come up with just 6 to put down on the list, right? Wrong. I took ages to come up with these 6, hence the delay in getting this post out. (Sorry, Soleil! And hugs n kisses from me on your berfday! :D) But, I've got 'em ready now (barely!), so off we go.

1. I talk to myself. I'm not completely sure how weird this is now, since practically everyone I know has admitted to doing this, but I'm still including it on the basis that I, personally, find it pretty weird. I have a dozen friends, and am almost always with at least one of them, so I find this compulsion to talk to myself rather strange. And I talk to myself about everything under ths sun. I even recite bits of dialogue from TV shows, movies and stuff like that to myself. Just to see (or hear, I guess) what it sounds like. Aloud, at that, in case I forgot to mention that teeny detail.

2. I have the tendency to develop strong feelings of dislike at best, hatred at worst, towards the female leads on most TV shows. It's pretty amusing, considering they're fictional characters, but you name her, I've hated on her. Lana Lang from Smallville (for which a more accurate and appropriate name would've been LanaVille or Days of Lana's Lives or best, Everybody Loves Lana - is my bitterness showing through?), Rachel from Friends (and come on, you cannot deny that she wasn't just one of the three main women on the show), Liz from Roswell, Buffy from BtVS, Kate from Lost, Meredith from Grey's Anatomy, Peyton from One Tree Hill...need I go on? There have, of course, been exceptions, but they have been few and far between.

3. Speaking of shows, I'm sure I've made my obsession for Smallville pretty clear around here. And yeah, I consider it weird that I'm addicted to a show that's basically been going down the drain for the past 5 years. And that I'm still optimistic that one day the writers will suddenly pull their heads out of their collective asses and make it a show worth watching again. As MG puts it, I "watch Smallville even after openly acknowledging the fact that [I] think it has no plot or anything worth talking about and no sense of continuity." And what's more, I care about it enough to write 3-page mails to newbie friends condensing the first few seasons into a few thousand words, and eventually educate the newbies enough to engage in long, intellectual discussions with them about a show with no sense of direction. Gah.

4. Onto more personal things, many of my friends have told me how weird they find it that I'm not remotely tempted by the dessert menu in a restaurant. Brownies, cakes, pastries, cookies, truffles, waffles, muffins, ice-cream - they do nothing for me. Given a choice between all that and a baked potato, I'd probably reach for the baked potato.

5. I'm extremely nit-picky. And extremely choosy as to where I put that nit-pickiness to use. I can't stand a double-space in a piece of my writing. Those green squiggly lines that MSWord loves to put under grammatical mistakes? I hate them, they freak me out. I need them all out of any essay I write, by hook or crook. I need all my Music folders properly labelled and arranged. I need to know where every file on my computer is located. I need all the songs on my iTunes playlist to be named properly and uniformly, with appropriate capitalization. And in the midst of all this, my room looks like a survivor of an asteroid attack. Yes, I have no priorities.

6. And if the above isn't enough to satisfy you and convince you I am really that weird, this should drive the proverbial final nail into the coffin.

Yay, phew! Now for some contradiction:

You Are 50% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird...
But too damn weird to do anything about it!

How Weird Are You?

Apparently, BlogThings doesn't think I'm too weird. Well, BlogThings has a weird definition of weird. So there.

Oh, not tagging anybody in particular. Most of the bloggers I know have either already done it or have been tagged, so if you don't fall into either category, and want to do this for yourself - by all means, go ahead!

Music Makes The People Come Together...Yeah!

2007-02-28T23:37:00.000+08:00

Life officially sucks. I'm happiness-deprived and swimming in buckets of stress. Second year could not get much worse, and the most horrid part is that I know this is just the tip of the iceberg. Things are definitely going to get much worse, and there's not much I can do to prevent it. Man, what a life I lead.

*sigh*

Ok, now that I've gotten that required amount of angst and self-pity off my chest, we can move on to better (and more interesting) things. Like music! I really need something to perk me up; what could be better?

Alert: message from the future. I've seen the end of this post, dear friends, and it is a long, long way away. Read on only if you wish to continue on this arduous journey and are not afraid of getting lost/falling asleep along the way.

Over the past few years, I've fallen in and out of love with many, many, many songs (for which my crazy friends can take credit!). And sometimes, after a long stressful day, listening to these songs can bring back so many good memories. Sub-consciously, I've started associating these one-hit wonders to special moments in my life and it's great fun just thinking about the exact moment the obsession with each one of these songs began. And sometimes it's just completely pointless obsession, really. I don't even understand some of the songs I've fallen madly in love with. How does that even happen? How do you fall in love with something you cannot grasp the basic gist of? The brain...she boggles. Anyway, I want to keep a record of the madness (I did it for my favourite Hindi songs, but that was more nostalgia than madness), so I can read it when I'm old and wrinkly and laugh at my youthful stupidity.

So, in random order (oxymoron?), here goes - a list of all the songs that have affected my life one way or another (I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha! Er, sorry. Sometimes, I lose control over myself. If someone says something that also happens to be a line in a song I know, I just have to sing and finish off the line. And trust me, it drives my friends nuts!). I digress (though, is it called digressing when you do it within parentheses?). Arg! Must. Stop. Pointless. Talk. *struggles for control over glucose-deprived brain* Alright, I'm better now. Off we go!

Here Without You, 3 Doors Down - First year in Uni. MG and I had gone to one of the halls to watch the hall band ("Peroxide") perform. At the end of the gig, while everyone was lounging around snacking, they played some random stuff on the stereo and this song happened to come on. I don't know why, but MG and I were absolutely entranced by it. In time, it became "our" song. Ironically enough, the lyrics don't fit us at all. Other than the very obvious fact that we're not two star-crossed lovers wallowing in our regret, we see each other every day. To the point that people consider it a sight to behold if one of us happens to be seen without the other. And still, whenever "Here Without You" starts playing, we look at each other and flash big grins, because "our song" is on. It's corny, I know. It's also really really sweet.

Drops of Jupiter, Train - Ok, I blame this on Soleil. This song is beyond the reach of my understanding, but I love it to pieces. I may be dense, but I have absolutely no clue what on earth Mr. Lead Singer of Train means when he says "Now that she's back from the atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in her hair (air, air, air!)." Jupiter is gaseous, for Christ's sake! Where did the darn "drops" come from?! And even if there were drops, how could they have stuck to her hair? Wasn't she wearing...I dunno, a space-suit when she went waltzing off to space?! Complete with helmet, so she can breathe?! Gah, the song defies logic. But I'm so in love with it that it's putting up a good show on my "Most Played" iTunes list. Logic and me are not good friends, yo.

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol - I don't know where the appeal of this song comes from, because it's a completely passive song about a guy who's basically asking his girl to come lie down with him and do nothing. Uh, ok. Great going. But deep-down, I must be a completely passive soul too, because despite the lyrics and the fact that the song is really, really slow, I lurve it. Credit goes to BubbleBurster this time, I guess, though indirectly. BB is the reason my friends and I even sat down to watch Grey's Anatomy and bore the agony that was Meredith Grey, and I first heard this song on the show. It was played over a really sad death-scene and so every time I listen to the song, I get flashbacks of Izzie in her pink dress, lying on the hospital bed with a dead Denny. *sniff* So hauntingly beautiful.

Come What May, Nicole Kidman & Ewan McGreggor - I resisted this one, I did. It happens to be one of MG's favourite songs, and I, for the insane reason that I was going through an anti-NK phase, refused to listen to it. Point blank refused, I say. As soon as the first few notes of the song would play on my list, I'd immediately change the track. I don't know what got into me. And then one day, by mistake, I listened to it completely for the first time. And I fell in love with it. I kept it a secret for a while, because I didn't want MG gloating about how she knew I'd love it when I'd gone all out to prove her wrong. And then she found out. And true to form, she gloated. Ah, but it was worth it. I listened to it on loop for hours one day, trying to perfect both NK and EM's parts. It took me some time, but I mastered it. Now, if only the right guy will come along for me to sing it with...

Lips of an Angel, Hinder - This is a recent addiction. I'd heard the song mentioned in a few places and decided to check it out. Loved it from the start, even though it really makes you wonder if you actually should be liking it, given the lyrics. I mean, a guy all-but-cheating on his girlfriend with his ex - a bit iffy, if you ask me. Soleil pointed out to me, and I was surprised to find that I actually didn't mind. Sure, if I was in the cheatee's position, I'd probably be singing a different tune (no pun intended!), but from my third-person position, I see only the tragic irony of the situation. The loss, the regret, the nostalgia...and the irony. Oh, the tragic irony. (I can almost feel the poet blossoming inside me!)

You Oughta Know, Alanis Morissette - Man, this is the song that makes you want to have a boyfriend, just so you can have a bitter break-up and then go to some open space and sing this song (read: yell) at the top of your lungs. And if you don't sing this song with all the bitter, angry, pent-up frustration you can muster, it's not worth it. Just let Alanis do the talking for you.

Come Undone, Duran Duran - After the first thought that Duran Duran always reminds me of Durians (Singapore's nasty-smelling fruits) passes from my brain, I realize that this is another one of those lost cases as far as the "true meaning" of the song is concerned. I understand neither head nor tail of it, and the video just makes it ten times worse. Why is the chained girl floating like a dead corpse in water? What's with all the huge, scary-looking fish? What does it all mean, and why is it so creepy?! *takes moment to recover* I have no clue. But I love the song. It's haunting, it makes no sense and it's creeptastic - but those are what make it so beautiful. Love.

Stan, Eminem - Oh, man. This one goes back ages! I think I heard my first Eminem song when I was 13, and to my tender, un-corrupt ears, it was pure blasphemy. Oh, how I've grown since then. "Stan" became my favourite Eminem song of all time, just because of the brilliant story woven into it. It tells a story of depression, anger, pain and insanity and boy, does it have a catchy ending. Story-telling at it's best, yo. Solid *beep*. Dido's haunting chorus just adds to the beauty. To me, it totally sounds out of place in her "Thank You" song, because I've grown so accustomed to listening to it in "Stan".

Superman, Five For Fighting - The perfect, perfect, perfect song for Smallville's Clark Kent, and to a lesser extent, Superman in general. (And this is why YouTube rocks.) (Clark tends to whine more, so this song is more apt for him than Love-The-Earth, buddy-buddy Supes.) As has been proven before, I'm a big Smallville junkie, and can obsess over anything that is remotely related to it. Hence the mega-love for this song. Plus, the lines "Find a way to lie, 'bout a home I'll never see" never fails to bring me to tears and want to give Supes a giant hug and a teddy bear. My friends and I are still wondering why Superman would willingly go digging for Kryptonite, though, so if you have any answers on that front, do let me know, will ya? And speaking of Superman, how can I forget...

Save Me, Remy Zero - Smallville's theme song! I started out really, really liking the song (because of my love-by-proxy rule with Smallville), and I still do love listening to it, but when you decide to go on a SV marathon and watch three DVDs at one shot, and every time the menu pops up, the chorus of this song starts blaring loudly...well, it can get pretty tiring. But even so, what an awesome song. And it's one of the most unsingable songs I know, too. I challenge anybody to sing "Somebody saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave me!" in tune, 'cuz it's really not possible to do it without exaggerating. And exaggeration, unfortunately, isn't very musical. Anyway, singable or not, definitely a song to go on the permanent record.

Ahem. Yikes. This post is getting way too long. Maybe I'll do a Part Two someday (there are so, so, so many more!) Or, maybe not. This is enough music to last a while, eh? Well, if I've inspired any of you to check out a song you haven't heard before, or pick up that long-forgotten CD and listen to the song you once listened to on loop years ago, I'm a satisfied girl. Whenever things get you down, there's always music to cheer you right up, isn't there? :)

So, as Eminem says...

Sing for the moment,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter,
Sing for the tears,
Sing with me, just for today...

Darn it, I wish I had a karaoke-machine.

Winds of Change...

2007-02-11T04:35:00.000+08:00

*pushes past rotting furniture and cobwebs to get to page*

Hiya! Long time no see! I've got my excuse ready this time -- I've been busy the past couple months with...er, stuff. Wedding stuff (not mine!). But I'm back and hopefully should be able to ladle out some new posts in a while. Stay with me, folks!

To inaugurate the new year (er, albeit two months late) - a face lift for the blog (I was getting tired of it being so colourless)! Also, switched to the Beta Blogger version, which means I won't have to wade in knee-deep html (should that be in caps? God, I'm such a computer-dud.) anymore. Whee! Clickety-click stuff for the win!

More soon. Pwomise. :)

Ho ho holidays!

2006-12-25T17:41:00.000+08:00

I love the winter.

I love snow, even though I've never really experienced a real snowfall.

I love watching people walk by on the streets, all bundled up in scarves and jackets.

I love the festive spirit that takes over people and cities as soon as December arrives.

I love Christmas, even though for my family, it's just another day Dad gets to stay home from work.

I love Santa Claus, even though, you know...*whispers* he doesn't exist. (Oops, did I just ruin someone's Christmas? :P)

I love the huuuuuge Christmas tree at Takashimaya, and I love the fact that it is there for me to see and enjoy, a full month before Christmas (as I'm inevitably at home in India during the December holidays).

I love turning on the radio in December and listening to festive greetings, "special" offers and Christmas carols.

I love "Silent Night", "O Come All Ye Faithful" and "Deck the Halls" -- I could listen to them any number of times.

I love Orchard road in December, all decked for the holidays.

I love the countdown to the New Year, even if I'm doing it from home in my jammies and not over drinks and loud music at some hip n happenin' club downtown.

I love jumping up and down when the clock strikes 12, screaming "The New Year's here!" a couple of times, then turning to my parents and going "Now what?", knowing perfectly well that I'm going to be met with blank stares/sleepy faces.

I love going to bed knowing I'm going to be waking up to a whole new year.

I love December.

Merry Christmas, everyone. :)

A 'Small' Obsession

2006-12-15T18:42:00.000+08:00

If there's a downside to the joy of knowing that an absolutely hellish semester has come to an end, it's the thought of stuffing one and a half years' worth of stuff (which includes clothes, notes, books, accessories...basically, every darn thing in your room) in heavy carton boxes in record time and lugging all of it to a luggage storage area at some distant corner of a huge condo-like hostel residence.

In short, packing and moving. And as I've doubtless said before, me no likey.

After our last exam was done, Macho Girl and I (with loooooads of help from dear Soleil) got down to the dirty business. Five hours later, we'd managed to do our laundry, dust and clean all our stuff and put every single thing we had in our rooms into many, many boxes. Exhausted and unable to stay a moment longer in our rooms, we crashed at the TV room and spent an uncomfortable, but very entertaining night -- cold and cramped on couches too small to fit our frames, listening to Tyra Banks interviewing Flavor Flave (oh dear Lord, the misery of it all!) and finally falling asleep for a few hours before waking up to Ellen Degeneres (I swear, it was a night of talk shows!). Amazingly enough, we didn't get kicked out by the security guard who walked into the TV room early in the morning. The man seemed to understand our plight, and just gave us a slight smile before walking out like nothing had happened. God bless his understanding soul.

We trudged back to our rooms to get a couple more hours of sleep -- we all knew the worst was yet to come. Unless we managed to secure trolleys, we were going to have to move all our boxes manually, and we could already feel our limbs complaining. So, in order to put off the pain, MG and I resorted to the one thing we knew would allow us a few moments of peace and comfort before we went off to face the storm.

We doodled.

And not just ordinary, meaningless doodling. Oh no. We had a topic, a theme. Smallville -- my obsession, MG's guilty pleasure. I don't know when it happened, but I got up one day and realized I was madly in love with a show whose main character would grow up one day to wear his underwear outside his spandex pants. Well, they do say love is blind, and for everyone who has some not-so-nice things to say about my dear show, I have just two words for you -- eye candy. Aka Tom Welling. After realizing that following Smallville's plot would just leave my brain all muddled up because of the alarming lack of continuity, I decided to give up and follow the one thing I knew would never suffer from the continuity problems that plagued the rest of the show -- The Pretty. Smallville has a ridiculously pretty cast, and though I know this is going to plant me firmly in "Superficial Females Who Watch TV Just So They Can Gawk At Pretty People" territory, it's worth watching the show just for that. Trust me.

So, bored people that we were, MG and I doodled on our carton boxes. She drew (I'm horrible at drawing convincing faces -- human faces, that is :P), and together, we gave them dialogues, comic strip style. Being even more jobless, we took pictures of our work. (Click on the pictures for bigger sized versions!) A word of caution: inside jokes and very shrewd observational skills will make these pictures a bit difficult to understand to the casual Smallville watcher, and to the non-watcher, the pictures will be completely incomprehensible. If you belong to either of these categories, ignore the content, and simbly enjoy ze artvork. It has significant form -- that should be enough. ;)

The magnificent Luthors...bwahahaha!

The endless love triangle

Jonathan "Mr. Platitudes" Kent and his dear wife, Martha

Alicia Baker : Brutally killed, forgotten in favour of a football, ex-Mrs. Clark Kent

Kanas!

Genius!

An overview of the madness

Ah, what a fun day that was. As crazy as it might sound, it's heaps of fun to have an obsession. And it only helps to have a friend as obsessed about it as you are. Words cannot express how happy I am that I managed to brain-wash MG into being a Smallville addict; I fully believe that in order to proudly sport a not-so-popular addiction/obsession, it is vital to recruit someone into your one-man club, so you can experience the full joy of being craaaazy without feeling like a total outcast.

So yeah, ultimately moving is still a pain in all the wrong places. But with some choice friends, a 'small' obsession and a big dose of humour, you can be assured of a handy pain-killer. No side effects, guaranteed. :)

Taggin' along

2006-11-17T18:05:00.000+08:00

It's been a rough month.

*looks at date of last post*

Yep. It certainly has. Probably one of the most hectic ever (and something that makes this rant sound completely useless and whiny). But it's over. And so, to celebrate...

A tag! My first one ever! Whee! Many fanks to MG for tagging me. Okie, here goes.

3 smells I love:
* The smell of the earth when it starts raining. Wet grass, wet mud. Just perfect. Especially when you have nothing else to do that day and can afford to sit down with a hot mug o' choco and watch the rain pour!

* Mom's cooking. Whatever it is, it smells awesome. I've got to hand it to that woman - she makes even the most everyday things like rice and rasam (and even cabbage!) smell wonderful.

* Paint. And kerosene.

3 smells I hate:
* Dirty toilets. (Pretty popular opinion, huh?)

* Waffles. (Yep, I'm weird.)

* Bakeries. Can't stand them. :/

3 jobs I've had in my life:
* School Pupil Leader. (Can you really call this a "job", though? Hardly had anything to do in that school of mine :P)

* Assistant School Pupil Leader in another school. (Yeah yeah, I'm bragging! :P)

* Erm...hey, stop laughing! I'm still in University! I've got plenty of time to get myself a job!

3 movies I could watch over and over again:
Oy. This is a tough one. I've got plenty, but hmm...

* Finding Nemo. (And most other animated movies, hee. But this one tops the list.)

* Bruce Almighty. (Leaves me in hysterical tears of laughter Every. Single. Time.)

* Dil Chahta Hai, Kal Ho Na Ho. Can't decide between them - both extremely funny, both very sweet and moving.

3 fond memories:
* When I got my Year 1 Sem 2 results online. Much jumping around and squeeing followed. It even inspired a blog post. ;)

* When Sayesha and my bro bought me the newest Harry Potter book, after I'd spent a busy month bugging my parents for it. I was so darn ecstatic!

* Being pampered by mum the first time I went back home from Uni. ("She's been away for four whole months, poor darling! Feed her!")

3 jobs I would love to have:
* Singer. Anywhere.

* A career that involved writing. Like journalism, maybe. But not for a newspaper. Books, perhaps? Or editorial work?

* Food critic. Or a travel show host. (*goes back to daydreaming*)

3 things I like to do:
* Sing! It's my life, man. It really is.

* Listen to music. This can probably be grouped with singing, though, considering my main pleasure comes not from listening, but from singing along. ;)

* Read. And write. (I am blogging, aren't I? :P)

3 of my favourite foods:
Oy. Another tough one. I'm a food-a-holic - anything goes! But if I have to be specific...

* Indian Chinese, specifically Gobi Manchurian. (Damn, now that I'm in Singapore, I crave it even more!)

* 'Godumai' dosa. Mum-made only.

* Chocolat! (But I have a weird thing where I can only take it in mild doses. I love it to death, but feed me a lot, and I'll get completely nauseous.)

3 places I'd like to be right now:
* Home, duh!

* A beach, somewhere. Accompanied by an iPod, sunglasses and a nice fat novel. *daydreams*

* Vancouver, Canada. So I could go stalk the cast of Smallville. Bwahahahaha! >:)

3 things that make me cry:
I used to cry at the drop of a hat, but I've grown stronger (and more well-behaved) over the years. But there are still things that make me cry, though. Like...

* A mega-fight with a dear one. Friend, family member, anyone. The closer they are, the angrier I get, the more I cry.

* A good, romantic, sappy movie. (Yes, I cried when I saw 'Titanic' and almost did for 'Kal Ho Na Ho' and 'K3G'. Stop snickering, will ya?)

* Frustration. I can handle pressure pretty well, but sometimes I crack really easily.

Yup, that's about it! I've had fun doing this, hee. Did ya learn stuff about me that you didn't know before? ;)

Movin' along

2006-10-07T00:21:00.000+08:00

Whew, what a couple of weeks it has been. The past 14 days have been some of the most tension-filled, hectic times of my life. Yeah, I'm probably exaggerating, but suffice to say the last two weeks have been pure hell.

As proof, I present, my activities over the past couple of weeks. I enjoyed my birthday, the first day of mid-sem break. The next day though, MG and I were right back in Mugger's Land (which is where, I'm convinced, I'll spend the rest of my sad life, gah!). I saw more of the library during the one week of my mid-sem break (which, ideally, is supposed to be a friggin' BREAK!) than I have in my stay at NUS so far. Day in, day out. Mug, mug, mug. Get out, eatlunch. Get back to library within half an hour and resume...any guesses? Yep, good job. Resume mugging. Bah.

In between all this, MG and I had to make time for Shabdam practices. Shabdam is an in-house concert that happens in the first semester of first year, and since MG and I were both participating, we had several practice sessions to cram into our schedule. The last Saturday of the mid-sem break was the concert, so the morning was completely spent in rehearsals and the evening went in dressing up for the occasion and the actual concert itself. It was a great success, so I guess I can't crib much in that area.

The concert got over on Saturday, so guess what we were doing on Sunday? Yep, mugging. You're clever!

Classes started again on Monday, and with it came chaos, desperation, tension and madness. That week, we juggled 2 heavy-duty Continual Assessments, one heavy-duty project protocol, another heavy-duty Statistics assignment (enough to drive anyone up the wall), 2 tiring days' worth of 9am-6pm lab sessions (that included some gross rat liver mincing, ew!), late night study sessions, early morning classes, dance and music classes - all of which we managed to get through harbouring an unhealthy amount of frustration and bitterness. The week has passed, and I'm now faced with the prospect of a relatively free weekend, but pleasing as that thought is, the memory of "Those Horrid Weeks" are still fresh in my mind.

Do you ever get the feeling that whenever you make a resolution, the Big Guy Up There immediately throws something your way to test you? Cunning, he is. On my birthday, I made a resolution to stay cheerful and happy all year, come what may. You know, rainbows and sunshine, yada yada - and I'm convinced the past two weeks were created sorely to test my conviction. And I'm not really sure about how I fared. I grumbled a lot, spent my limited free time (times I was eating, drinking and generally not being immersed in lecture notes) complaining with my friends about how unfair everything in the universe was, felt the need to swear at innocent objects, felt resentful and depressed and then felt guilty about feeling resentful and depressed. Yeah, not exactly model behaviour after that promising resolution. (Don't look at me like that! I'm not perfect, people!) But - and this is the important part - horrid though those days were, I did remember my resolution several times during the two weeks. And that's saying something, considering I normally don't even make resolutions, knowing full well that I'm going to break them the minute I create them. So the fact that I'm even *trying* to stick to the latest one is a huge deal. And it's not just that I'm reminding myself about it every once in a while and feeling guilty. I'm actually, genuinely trying. Most times it doesn't work, but the few times it does, I feel proud and accomplished.

I'm sitting here, writing out this post, and I realize that tough times do pass. No matter how freaked out you might be at a particular moment, there's always going to be a point in the future when you think about it and heave a relieved sigh. Because things never stay too bad for too long - they almost always get better. It surprises me that I'm already past the two weeks now, and that even though I'm sure something horrible is looming around the corner to pounce on me and take me by surprise, I can put the thought of it behind sometime later. When tough times come a callin', you've just gotta face it and keep moving. Keep moving, 'cuz it's the only thing that'll get you out of the bad times.

And as much as it kills me to quote The All-American Rejects (seriously, what has the world come to?!), these particular lines perfectly sum up what I've been trying (very ineffectively) to say from the beginning:

"When all you gotta keep is strong,
Move along, move along, like I know you do.
And even when your hope is gone,
Move along, move along, just to make it through."

The All-American Rejects to the rescue. Who woulda thunk? ;)

A "Happy" Birthday!

2006-09-27T21:09:00.000+08:00

I'm overloaded with work these days. Project worry and upcoming mid term exams have me pulling my hair out at every given opportunity. Since my mid semester break began a week ago, I've been sitting at the library all week long, buried in my lecture notes. It's not fun. I've barely had time to do anything besides study and worry, so much so that I couldn't even find the energy to blog about my comes-once-a-year-friggin'-birthday. Jeez. Well, I've decided to give my hair some much needed rest (from all the pulling) and tell you all about my absolutely fantastic birthday this year. Because, seriously, somebody's got to thank all those people responsible for making it so great!

I didn't have big plans for my birthday this year. I was extremely overjoyed that it fell on the first day of the mid-sem break though, because then I'd be able to take the whole day off and not feel guilty about it. Accordingly, MG and I deposited ourselves on the comfy couches in the TV room as soon as our classes were over on Friday, and spent a happy 3 t0 4 hours relaxing. Sigh, good times.

Now, sabos are a way of life around here. Come someone's birthday, and we're all at a barbeque pit in our hostel, waiting to pounce upon the unlucky birthday guy/girl. It's become such a ritual that it's impossible to surprise anyone with it anymore. Anyone except me, that is. Either I'm dumber than I thought I was, or I'm incredibly naive, but when MG took me for a walk around midnight, I really thought it was just that - a walk. Little did I know that a big group of all my favourite people here at NUS was waiting to surprise me with a cake and gifts! My friends actually thought I was faking my surprise because they couldn't believe I'd be dumb enough not to expect a celebration. Well, there you go guys. Apparently, I am that dumb! ;)

I went up to my friends and got treated to a wonderful sight. A pretty, pretty cake with fruit topping and 19 candles with another one for luck. Man, how can people think of eating something so pretty? I mean, look at it! Can you imagine that in around 5 mins of taking this picture, half of it was on my face, and the other half was on its way to people's stomachs? What an utter, complete waste!

My friends and I spent the rest of the evening taking pictures, catching up, making jokes and generally chit-chatting. Nothing out of the ordinary, but after 2 months of being glued to books and running to classes and completing assignments, it was really nice to just be able to hang out with a bunch of good friends and have fun without having to worry about what test to study for next. I don't really think any of those people there realized just how much that surprise gathering meant to me. It's something I'll remember and cherish for a long time, probably more than the painful memory of cake in my eye. Huh. Not a good thing to associate a great birthday party with, eh?

The surprise party at midnight was just the beginning of a wonderful day. The morning of my birthday, I went for my first ever blood donation (that's coming up in the next post, be patient!) with a couple of friends, and had a thoroughly enjoyable time (this, coming from a self-confessed blood-phobic person). I came back feeling extremely satisfied with myself and the rest of the world. MG and I spent some quality time together over the afternoon, complaining about our bandages and gloating over the fact that we'd just given "liquid love" to someone. In the evening, a big bunch of us (including Sayesha and Viv) went out for dinner and dessert and had a gala time. By the end of it all, we'd had some much needed good food, spent some fun time off campus and heard enough PJs to last us a lifetime!

Now, what's a birthday without presents, right? I might act all deep and thoughtful and tell people that their presence on my birthday is present enough for me, but I can't be expected to not get cheered up at the thought of free goodies! Don't judge me - I'm only human, after all!

I wasn't disappointed at all. I got a sweet card from my adorable parents (all the way from India! *mwah* I love you guys!), a lovely green kurti from MG (that I wore for the entire day), a beautiful watch from BB and CS, "An Essential Guide to Singlish" (too funny!) from Soleil, a body care kit from Sayesha and a beautiful set of 'pressed flowers' bookmarks from a dear friend from Malaysia (what should I call you, girlie?)

Now, superficial I might be. But I know a good gift when I receive one. And the best one I received that day was the knowledge that I have an amazing group of friends here. In the one place there's a chance of me feeling lonely or missing home, I have an adorable set of people who I know will make sure that never happens. I know "thank you" barely covers what I want to say to you guys, but it's all I can do to let you know just how much you all mean to me. To everybody who remembered me on my birthday and wished me and to all those lovely people who made it so wonderful, here's a nice, big virtual hug. To all you guys, with love. >:D< (What dya know? I'm sweet and emoticon-friendly! Yay me!)

Ahem. Time to get to the point. I'm in my final year as a teenager now. A sad thought, but we all have to grow up sometime. But I'll be damned if I'm going to spend the last bits of my teenage life moping about how much work I have to do and how depressed I am. Nope, no way. So this is my birthday resolution. I'm going to make a conscious effort this year to stay cheerful, upbeat, optimistic and happy. Shouldn't be too hard, given the wonderful life I lead (and I'm not being sarcastic!). Mopiness isn't gonna get my anywhere, and I don't think I want to look back when I'm 60 and realize I spent the best years of my life being depressed. I wanna look back and see a girl who made the best of what life threw at her, and did it all happily.

So, to a bright, cheerful, sunny, optimistic and wonderful year! *clink*

*hic*

Anyone get the feeling I've been drinking a bit too much lately?

50!

2006-09-06T12:12:00.000+08:00

Gasp. Pant. Heave. Huff. Puff. Sigh. Phew. *wipes perspiration off forehead*

I'm here! Finally! At my 50th post! It's taken me (*looks at side-bar*) a year and 5 months to get here!

*crickets chirping*

Wow. I'm slow, aren't I? Eh, I knew it a long time ago. The thing is - I'm here. And I'm lovin' it. Here's to 50 more posts, hopefully in lesser time than it took me the first time around. Woo!

Cheers! *clink*

Treadmill Dance

2006-09-03T00:02:00.000+08:00

You know what sucks about the internet? That there's so much stuff on it. So freakin' much, that sometimes really good stuff goes by completely unnoticed, if it's not brought to your attention by someone else happening to chance upon it. That is why good stuff must be shared. And in the spirit of sharing...

Here, for your viewing pleasure are four guys with way too much time on their hands, very little fashion sense and a whole bunch of talent. Three minutes of brilliant co-ordination and laugh-out-loud genius. Presenting...

*drum roll*

The Treadmill Dance!

Ahem. That reminds me...I gotta get to the gym soon!

In Memoriam

2006-08-25T14:39:00.000+08:00

Gasp. No.

They cannot do this. They cannot shake my faith like this. They cannot suddenly come up to me and tell me that what I've been led to believe was right for 19 years, was actually wrong all along. They cannot just pull the rug from under my feet. The next thing I know, they'll be telling me "E=mc²" isn't true, either. (Hasn't there been talk about it already?) We're living in a world where anything is possible, people. Anything.

And what about the next generation? How can they deny the little ones the joy of learning about nine planets? I can only imagine how the classes would go:

"There are eight planets in the Solar System."

Dear Lord. Just...so wrong. I'm mortified. Whatever will happen to "My Very Elegant Mother Just Showed Us Nine Planets"? Gone. Ruined. All hope is lost.

Pluto. Dear, sweet Pluto. Relegated from "The Last Planet In The Solar System" to "Dwarf Planet". Sniff. What a bummer.

Goodbye, Pluto. We'll certainly remember you, you tiny little thing, for the icy wonder that you were. Wherever you're headed now, I wish you well. Don't let those nasty scientists get you down. Great things lie ahead, Pluto. Go out and fulfil your dream. Hang out with the Dwarf Club and make us all proud. I have faith in you.

Goodbye, dear friend. We'll miss you.

First! To say Alvida!

2006-08-22T00:55:00.000+08:00

Movies are meant to be seen at night. Not because it makes the viewing experience any different, but just for the reason that one shouldn't be woken up early in the morning to go see a movie of all things.

I was soundly asleep one Friday morning a few weeks ago, enjoying one of my last non-working weekdays on campus (and a nice dream about dear ol' Tom Welling), when I was rudely awakened by my friends and told to be ready in 10 minutes, because we were going to watch Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna - first day first show. Dayum!
Ok, maybe I don't have too much reason to complain, because it really wasn't that early. In fact, it was 10.30 when my friend woke me up. But c'mon. No classes, late nights - what can you expect? We were enjoying the last few days of our holidays to the maximum! We'd originally planned to go that very night to go see the movie, but problems arose, things came up and the sudden decision was made to go see the movie in the morning itself, since we weren't doing anything anyway. Except sleeping, of course, the prospect of missing which my other friends weren't too bothered about, especially considering the alternative was seeing Abhishek Bachchan larger than life for 3 whole hours. Sigh. Kids these days. Does no one value the quality of sleep anymore?

Macho Girl and I made some bleary phone calls to each other, and it took us about 10 minutes to actually come to the decision that we'd have to forsake our precious sleep to make our dear friends happy (and to fulfil our secret desire to go see ABJunior on the big screen for 3 hours - shhh!). Once that decision was made, I dashed out of bed, took the quickest shower I've ever taken, got dressed, got my stuff and was at our appointed meeting place in a record time of 15 minutes. Phew!

MG and I met up with two other similarly bleary-eyed friends (the rest had already taken off by the first cab to go get tickets) and called for a cab. Five minutes later, a nice Mercedes Benz was cruising towards us. Whee! A chance to see AB on the big screen for 3 whole hours and a ride to the theatre in a Benz? Suddenly, the thought of having lost precious sleep didn't seem all that bad. The day was turning out pretty good, after all.

Um, not really. The very nice cab driver chatted with us all the way to our destination, and happily dropped us off at some other Hindi-cinema-showing theatre. We, completely clueless and oblivious, said a pleasant goodbye to the "really sweet cab guy", and got into the mall. After 5 minutes of desperate searching, we realized we were in the wrong place. And we'd gotten word that the movie (in the actual theatre, where my other friends were) had already started. Nooooo! Our AB! Sniff!

The "really sweet cab guy" got quite a few curses from us as we hailed another cab and this time, made sure we gave proper directions. Five more excrutiating minutes later, we were in the right place. We muttered a few more curses at the old cab driver, gave his title ("really sweet cab guy") to the new guy who'd managed to get us to the right place, and like professional athletes, sprinted all the way to the theatre. Our friend met us outside, gave us our tickets, got us in, and all of us made a mad dash to the hall.

Who should we see greet us but dear ol' AB himself, in a scene with the ever-pretty Rani Mukherji? AB, of course, was lookin' fine as ever, and was mighty funny. Just the way we wanted him.

The happiness ended there. AB and Preity Zinta were probably the only redeemable aspects of a completely sad (as in "I cannot bear to watch this crap" sad) movie, in my honest opinion. I've been a die-hard SRK fan for a long time, but I couldn't stand to watch him in this movie. I think all 8 of us, at some point or the other, felt like reaching out through the screen and giving his character one tight slap. Some progressed to wanting to strangle him. Same for Rani's character. Sheesh. I've never felt so aggravated with (fictional!) characters in any other movie. Karan Johar should probably stick to the sappy soap-opera movies, because as cheesy as they were, K3G, K2H2 and Kal Ho Na Ho were extremely re-watchable and still make for great movie-marathon gatherings. They had the right dose of comedy and the sappy stuff, and most of the time, the sappy stuff actually made you cry (though you tried not to show it...c'mon! Who didn't cry when in K3G, Rohit finally met Rahul in his house in London and introduced himself as Yash? Sniff!)

KANK didn't evoke any of those feelings in me. There were funny bits, but not nearly enough to overshadow the whole "WTF?!"ness of the rest of the plot. The characters infuriated me, and they weren't given much of a background story for me to actually be able to feel any sort of pity or sympathy for them. As for ABSenior, I'm still reeling from the image of him as "Sexy Sam" tbe able to make any coherent thoughts about his part in the movie. But I didn't want to reach out and slap the guy, so I guess you could say he was redeemable. Meh. The movie was so exceptionally disappointing. Then again, to each his own. I guess I just went in with too many expectations. For AB and PZ, that amazing cameo by cutie-pie John Abraham (those dimples! Sigh.) and the wonderful locations (even that was better done in KHNH), I'll give it a one-time watch. But that's all. No more. Sorry Johar, but I can't stick up for you this time. I'm very disappointed.

I guess it's sort of sad to have your first 'first day first show' experience be ruined by a bad (IMO) movie, but I'm still glad my friends got me out of bed that day and dragged me to the theatre. It was almost worth it, just to see AB on the big screen for 3 whole hours (:D). And it was worth it, because like all other times, my friends made it worth-while. I'll suffer through 3 hours of shit if it means I'll get to spend that much time with friends, even if "spending time" actually means shouting "boos" at the screen every time SRK and Rani appeared together and screaming ourselves hoarse at the joy of seeing John Abraham (and his dimples! Sigh.) on screen for 10 seconds.

So I'll say it again. Movies are meant to be watched at night, because there's no point getting up early to go see one. But if your friends drag you out of bed one day to go see AB on the big screen for 3 whole hours, don't complain. Because believe me, the guy is totally worth it. And erm, so are your friends. Hee. ;)

National Day

2006-08-12T21:40:00.000+08:00

August 9th is Singapore's National Day. This year, 2006, Singapore celebrated its 41st year of independence. And I celebrated one year of having survived in a foreign land, away from my parents and my home. Singapore welcomed me with open arms last year, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every bit of my life here. Of course, it doesn't compare to staying in my home country, in my home, with my parents and friends, but I won't complain. I have no regrets whatsoever about coming here.

Having missed the National Day celebrations last year, my friends and I were quite keen on going to the Esplanade this year to catch the festivities. So Macho Girl, Bubble Burster, Confused Soul (CS) and I decided that we weren't going to sit at home and bum this time; we were going to have a great night out. Sudden inspiration struck CS and she ordered all of us to comb through our closets and find something red and white so as to show our support for our beloved home away from home.

Singapore's national colours - red and white

All of us obediently agreed, and within a short while, were ready with our ensembles. I was quite sure we'd look like clowns walking around in similar looking outfits, but when we got to our destination, we fit in quite well due to the enormous number of people donning red and white!

The Red and White Brigade!

We got to Boat Quay by cab, and walked our way to the Esplanade. I swear, I've never seen so many people all at one place anywhere else in Singapore. Everyone was milling around, enjoying the festive atmosphere. And the splendid river-side view.

The Fullerton Hotel resides in this area. Man, one day, when my friends and I have won the joint Nobel Prize for whatever, we're gonna come over here and spend a day in the penthouse. And make full use of room service, taxes be damned. Ahem. One can dream, right?

Day-dreaming all the time, we made our way through the thick crowd and slowly approached the Esplanade. Modeled on Singapore's national fruit, the durian, it is a marvelous sight and a must-see for all visitors to the country. It is probably the prettiest thing I've seen so far in Singapore, and for good reason. I mean, just look at it!

The Merlion is another must-see. Half mermaid, half lion. Odd combination, but it's still a very pretty sight. And very close to the Esplanade!

We settled ourselves on the walkway near the river, and waited for the fireworks to start. While we were waiting, an incredible thing happened. The moon rose. Ok, ok, that's not the biggest surprise in the world, but I've never, ever seen such a beautiful moon-rise in my life as the one I saw that day. The sky wasn't very clear that day, but I couldn't have asked for a prettier sight. Throughout the whole thing, while the moon passed in and out of clouds, I stood spell-bound.

Doesn't this look like something out of a werewolf movie? I kept thinking of Lupin throughout the moon-rise. Ah, well. Once an HP addict, always an HP addict, I guess. :P

CS then took this absolutely wonderful picture of the Merlion with the moon in the background. A picture I consider an absolute gem, one of the best of the night. I now want a poster like this to adorn the walls of my house, as a souvenir! Too good.

Then the fireworks started. To our dismay, the Oriental building blocked most of our view, with the result that we only got to see part of the fireworks. All the photos we took made it look like the building was on fire! Even worse, the fireworks lasted for barely five minutes.

We were a bit disappointed that we couldn't watch the fireworks in their entirety ('cuz from what we could see, they were beautiful), and that the whole thing didn't last longer. It didn't matter much, though. The fact that we'd made it and that we were having a good time prevented us from getting too bitter.

We took a nice, long walk after that and got ourselves some dinner. After that, we came back to the Esplanade and sat by the river-side, enjoying ice-cream, popcorn and cotton candy and of course, the brilliant view. Skyscrapers just cannot get prettier than this.

It's a beautiful feeling, just sitting near the Esplanade, feeling the cool breeze blowing through your hair, and with some good company, you can forget your problems and fears for a while, and just enjoy that feeling of peace that comes with complete content. It cannot be described in words; it has to be experienced. I'm glad I got a chance to experience it, and I'm even happier that I got to do it with my closest friends here.

Thank you, Singapore, for giving me everything I could've hoped for. I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing when I first came here, but you've convinced me otherwise. For that, and for everything else, thank you.

And oh, one more thing. Happy Birthday. :)

P.S: Thanks to MG and CS for all the wonderful pictures. You guys are brilliant photographers in the making!

What's in a name?

2006-07-26T01:45:00.000+08:00

Blog names are very interesting things. Some of them are funny, some of them are cute, some are witty. Some are actual names, some are inspired by people, some by personalities and hobbies, some by favourite songs/books/movies, others by brilliant strokes of imagination. In most cases, the blog name becomes synonymous with the blogger. An unknown person on the 'net, known to everyone who reads his/her blog by a random, seemingly meaningless word (or words). Yet, almost every blogger I know has a story/reason behind his/her blog name. Except me.

I've been blogging for more than a year now, but I don't really know how 'Clueless' came about. Only the other day, when Macho Girl and I were having our routine afternoon chat on Messenger, and she asked me why exactly I chose to name my blog 'Clueless', did I realize that I had absolutely no idea how I picked a name that would become my identity in the blogger world. 'Clueless' was my first and only choice when Blogspot asked me to name my blog, but it happened so quickly, I never gave a second thought to it.

Not many people have asked me the story behind 'Clueless' to date, so I've had a pretty easy time. But it sucks to go around telling the people who do ask, that I have no idea how I came up with it. So I decided to 'make up' a story, with my ever-faithful Macho Girl's help. We ended up with a whole load of explanations for 'Clueless', though. For example:

1. Clueless, the movie - The first thought I had as soon as I'd decided to name my blog 'Clueless', was that people would think it was inspired by the similarly-named movie. A movie in which Alicia Silverstone portrayed a ditzy blonde who 'jammed' with her equally ditzy (albeit not blond) friends. And that was a terrifying thought. Because firstly, it would mean acknowledging that I'd seen the movie. Ack. Secondly, it would seem like I identified with the lead character, Cher, a complete air-head (at least till the end of the movie) who lives in her own bubble-wrap world with her plastic doll friends. And whatever I might be, I am NOT a Cher. Still, I liked the name 'Clueless' so much that I willed myself to believe that nobody in their right minds would've seen the movie (and admitted to watching it) and therefore nobody (in their right minds) would make the connection. And to my complete relief, nobody did. Phew.

Reason for non-applicability: The further I am from being associated with this movie, the better.

2. Philosophical Explanation #1 - [calm, soothing sadhu voice] 'Clueless' is appropriate for a blog name because after all, aren't we all 'clueless', small, insignificant beings wandering around in this big, wide world, trying to find the meaning of life? Aren't we all 'clueless' about why we've been put here and what our purpose in life is? Aren't we all just trying to find answers?

Reason for non-applicability: Profound thoughts? Me? Bwah! *insert snorty, derisive laughter here*

3. Philosophical Explanation #2 - [same calm, soothing voice] 'Clueless' makes perfect sense because when I started blogging, I was this 'clueless' child trying to find my way in life. I was lost and confused (and, of course, 'clueless' about the world) and I turned to this blog hoping for some answers. Hoping for something to light my way from cluelessness to...well, clue-ness. Clue-ity. Whatever.

Reason for non-applicability: Same as reason for PE#1. Also, I don't think 'clue-ness' or 'clue-ity' are words. Plus, I was never lost or confused as a child; I was quite bright, for that matter. I can't lie now, can I?

4. A Warning - By telling everyone beforehand that I'm 'Clueless', I can warn the newcomers to the blog about it's weird and often meaningless content. Because really, how much sense can you expect a 'clueless' person to make?

Reason for non-applicability: Oh, who am I kidding? I would never drive away a reader by 'warning' them of meaningless content on my blog. More publicity is good publicity, right?

5. Le Truth - I started blogging because I was extremely bored during my vacations, and since after a lot of thinking I was still 'clueless' about what to name my blog, I decided to name it just that. Clueless. And in time, the name grew to fit me.

Reason for non-applicability: None, except that it's the most uninteresting 'story' behind a name ever. EVER. Sigh.

So what do you think? The next time someone asks me how 'Clueless' came about, what should I say? Should I go for the cold, bitter, uninteresting truth, or should I just not give a damn about my 'reasons for non-applicability' and spice the story up a bit?

While I'm at it, I might as well ask - do you have any interesting 'explanations' for 'Clueless'? Any...pearls of wisdom? ;)

Viva Goa!

2006-07-22T00:18:00.000+08:00

Warning: Bikinis do not make a feature anywhere in this post. Sorry, people. But this is a family-friendly page and I don't want to scare away the few people who do visit! ;)

When I first heard that my parents and I would be making a 4-day trip to Goa, I was ecstatic. I mean, who wouldn't be? Goa is like the Indian Hawaii. And who doesn't want to go to Hawaii? I, for one, would LOVE to. But for now, Goa is as close as I can get.

So, obviously, I was over the roof about the news. ("To Goa! Yay! w00t!" et al.) But the thing about expectations is that the higher they get, the less likely it is that they'll be met. I, knowing this from past experience, was trying not to get my hopes up too high, but sometimes, when you're given exceptionally good news, it's hard to keep the excitement at bay. The exact thing happened to me - I just could not get myself to believe that I would be let down.

And that is why I thank God that Goa was as fabulous as it turned out to be. Because I'm someone who get's very moody and pissy when I'm disappointed (which happens a lot, because as I said before, I'm also someone who can get excited very fast), and that leads to a very depressing phase for everyone who's around. To think that it very nearly did happen...

Our train (Rajdhani Express – one of the best ways to travel; and no, I’m not advertising for them!) dropped us off at a place called Madgaon (or Margao). Now, our hotel was at this place called Vagator, in the northern parts of Goa, and to get there we had to travel 60 kms by taxi. All taxis in Goa are apparently Maruti vans, and during that 60 km drive to the hotel, I learned something. Abundant leg-space is not as much of a luxury as we all believe. I mean, when you're on a tiny, bumpy road (and the roads in Goa are miniscule!), it hurts - and I mean, really hurts - to be thrown around and not have the seat in front of you close enough to grab and steady yourself with. My thought during that entire journey (which lasted one and a half painful hours) was that I'd never be selfish and ask for more leg space again if I wasn't sure what sort of terrain I'd be moving on.

Well, at the end of that enlightening journey, we reached our hotel - Sterling Resorts, Vagator. Now, once upon a naive time, 'resort' used to be a high-funda term in my dictionary. I mean, there's something about saying "I'm staying in a resort nearby" that just doesn't get conveyed in "I'm staying in a hotel/motel nearby", though technically they're almost the same thing. It's...fashionable. But, as I learnt, 'fashionable' places are meant for fashionable people. It helps to stay in a resort if all you're going to do is take daily dips in the swimming pool, order room service and have dinner in front of the TV, and spend absurd amounts of money doing...well, nothing. In other words, if you're rich and jobless (and I mean that nicely). Which we were not. So, basically, staying in a resort proved pointless (and expensive) for us, especially since we had to travel a lot to see any places worth visiting.

Still, all complaints made, it's fun to compare, right? Now, I didn't exactly get what I expected (left), but it was close enough (right). Heh. For once, my expectations were met and it turned out to be a complete waste. Talk about irony! :P

Anyway, all of this did not detract from Goa's fabulousness. We explored it to the max by getting on a tour bus that took us to some fascinating places, including the basilica where St. Francis Xavier's body is kept. I love churches, for some odd reason. They're so peaceful when they're empty, and having studied for 7 years in Christian schools, I always feel a sense of nostalgia whenever I visit one. This one was no different, especially considering I'd come to the very same one with my friends on a school excursion three years back. We also visited a few temples, a museum of sorts where they showed us how the old Goans lived (it felt more like a third-standard school trip then!), and some fantastic beaches. (I wish I had a digi-cam, so I could've uploaded some pictures of these places!)

I feel Goa could be best described as 'laid back'. The whole state is peaceful, no one's in a hurry (I didn't see ONE traffic signal during my entire stay there, for Christ's sake!), there aren't many people or cars around to cause pollution and the Goans are very friendly. It's a beautiful place, with more greenery than you'll probably see in the rest of India combined. Have you ever had that experience where you've traveled some place by train and seen these beautiful patches of scenery between cities and wished the cities themselves could be that pretty? Well, Goa is.

Words cannot describe how calming it is to be on an empty beach, with the wind in your hair and the waves washing your feet, watching the sun set or to stand atop a hill, close to the heavens, watching the clouds cover up the sun and the rain pour down in spades. It's something that's got to be experienced and Goa is the perfect location to do such a thing. I'm very glad I made the trip with my parents, because it's been a wonderful experience. Something I'll remember and cherish for a long time.

So, if you ever get the chance to go to Goa, don't miss it. You can take my word for it - it's worth it.

Grrr...

2006-07-20T17:30:00.000+08:00

Ok, I'm very pissed off. I can't freakin' access my own blog page without using a proxy. How can someone freakin' BLOCK Blogspot? And no one can access any blog unless they're techno-savvy and know how to use a proxy, or they've got a helpful friend. Gah! Bitter.

Now, I'm not a regular blogger (and I'm not pretending to be either), but what good's gonna come out of blocking Blogspot? I don't understand the mentality, people. Help me understand. I'm absolutely 'clueless'. (See? I can be funny during times of stress too! Hey, why aren't you laughing? Whaaaaat?? Sigh. Never mind.)

ETA: I've just heard it's got to do with the bombings. Sigh. Life is just so messed up for some people, it's sad.

ETA2: As usual, Sayesha's said it better than me. It never occurred to me to use people from abroad. And the comments section. Time for me to chant my mantra for the day: "D'oh!"

Goin' to Goa!

2006-06-26T22:38:00.000+08:00

Aloha!

Dear reader(s), I'm off on a vacation. Yes, a vacation within a vacation. Yes, another one - for about two weeks. And no, not to Hawaii (in case any of you were misled by the greeting). Le sigh. Well, close enough - I'm off to the Indian equivalent of Hawaii. Goa, baby! Whoopsie-doooda! :D

(I just realized the title comes before the post (d'oh!). And that it gives it all away. Arg.)

Before I get to sunny Goa (rainy Goa, more like. *sigh*) though, I'll be taking a detour through 3 less scenic, but equally interesting cities. So, in a matter of two weeks, I shall be travelling through four different states all over India - isn't that some quality time-management?

I'm most excited about Goa. There's a really sad story behind it - my parents, who have been in Mumbai for almost a year now, and stayed here for 5 whole years when I was younger, have never been there. Not once. I myself have been to Goa just once, that too on a school trip. From freakin' Coimbatore. Sheesh. Almost 6 years in Mumbai, and we've never been to Goa as a family till now. That's why I'm so excited to be going there now - it's going to be wonderful taking that family vacation together. I'm really gonna miss my brother though; he would've really enjoyed the trip and would've made the family complete. Well, if it's any comfort, I'll be thinking of you all the time, bro! :)

All I'm hoping now, is that Goa lives up to the expectations. I'm expecting...

What?? A girl can dream, right?

Ah, it's ok. I don't care how it turns out to be. I'm going with my family, and as I said before, that's all that matters. So goodbye, dear friends, and await my return! I shall bring tales of my travels to share with you! And we shall all gather together around the campfire and eat and drink and be merry!

Ahem. I'm going off on a tangent. I'll let myself out now. :P

See you all in a couple of weeks! :)

Family Reunion

2006-06-15T00:15:00.000+08:00

For the past week, Macho Girl’s been in the village, ditching her city-girl image and hanging out with her family. Well, instead of sitting around waiting for her to return so I’d have someone to gupshup with again, I decided to take a mini-vacation myself. So, last week, I headed off to an uncle and aunt’s place in Mumbai city and joined 9 other cousins for a week of catching up, hanging out and chilling. Yep, you heard right. Ten cousins (9 girls and one poor little boy), aged 6 to 24, all under one roof for one whole week. My, what a ruckus!

So, for a very pleasant (and eventful) week, the 10 of us got up as late as we wanted in the mornings, got treated to scrumptious breakfasts, battled with each other for bathroom space, ran around the house getting ready, constantly bumping into one another (when there are 11 other people in the house, you can run, but you most definitely cannot hide!), went shopping to various crowded places, helped each other pick out shoes and outfits, bargained with the shop-keepers, squeezed into one table so we could all have lunch together, played mix-n-match with ice-cream flavors, went bowling and cheered each other on, comforted each other when the littlest one of us all kicked our butts at the game, ate popcorn together in the movie theatre, discovered how wonderful the paneer wraps are at McDonalds, helped each other win games of Rollercoaster Tycoon, exchanged e-mail ids, shared music CDs, argued about Blue’s nationality, laughed as we watched ‘Home Alone’ on the home theatre system for the billionth time, went on rollercoasters with each other at Essel World, enjoyed home-made chaat, listened to and made fun of Himesh Reshammaiya, imitated his nasal voice, panicked every time ‘Jhalak Dikhlaja’ was played on the radio, groaned together as we got bumped around in the back seat of the huge Maruti van, cleaned up together after dinner, and sat up into the night with Aunty and Uncle, reminiscing, talking about old times, sharing family stories and experiencing similar feelings of nostalgia. Phew, we did quite a lot, didn’t we?

In families as big as mine, it’s easy to lose touch with relatives. Priorities shift, work and immediate family take precedence, stupid geography works its evil plots, and slowly but surely, you lose contact with people you once hung out with on a weekly basis. Favorite cousins become people you meet once in a few years, and you find yourself asking your mother who exactly it was who called the other day, saying she was your second cousin. Family history charts go flying out of the window, you no longer know who’s married and who’s not, your nephew meets you after a few years and doesn’t recognize you, even though you played with him everyday when he was younger, and before you know it, you get disconnected from the rest of your family.

It took one week with 9 other cousins to make me realize how much the world has changed. It took several narrations by my parents and elders, of their lives together, of their huge joint families, and of several cousins living under one roof, to make me understand how far apart we’ve grown in the space of a few generations. It has taken me long enough to realize that quality time with the family is precious, and that every once in a while, family takes precedence over friends. That it is time we all tried to take some time off our busy, uninteresting schedules to spend a few precious days with our families, near and distant. Because, ultimately, it matters. Because, in whatever way you think of it, your family is the reason you exist. Because, in the end, your family is your life.

10 cousins, separated by two continents, four countries, five cities and 10 different lives got the rare chance to spend quality time with each other and enjoy each other’s company for a week. I don’t know when I’ll meet these people again, but I know I’ll carry fond memories of the time we spent together. Memories that will last for years. And sometimes, these memories are all that are needed to make you realize that really, nothing beats family.

Doctor? We have a problem.

2006-05-31T02:25:00.001+08:00

Grey’s Anatomy.

This episode was inspired by a real-life incident*.

[Teaser]

Intern: Doctor? I think we have a problem.

[Opening credits]

Guest Appearance: Ms. Clueless, as patient suffering from ‘Resultorrhea’.

[Shot of hospital room with interns surrounding a patient in bed. A doctor is nearby, supervising.]

Doctor: Stevens. You may start.

Intern 1: Yes, sir. [reading] Patient has been exhibiting signs of hypertension, hyperventilation, hyper[insert fancy-schmancy medical term of choice], nervous breakdowns, palpitation, dehydration, sweating and nightmares. Refuses to calm down, and insists on running around the house with a crazed maniacal look shouting, “I’m gonna fail! I’m gonna fail!”.

Doctor: I see. What do you think the problem is?

Intern 1: There’s no room for doubt, sir. It’s crystal clear. The patient is suffering from Resultorrhea.

Doctor: Hmm. O’Malley. Elaborate.

Intern 2: Caused by the pathogen Examen resultarius (or E.resultarius), Resultorrhea is extremely common among children and young adults, and is found to occur most frequently during the months of May, June and July, which is when the pathogen chooses to breed. Resultorrhea is rarely fatal, though it causes severe discomfort, and can occur as often as three to four times a year, depending on the person’s age.

Doctor: Very good. Dr Grey - what are the ways one can treat this dreadful disease?

Intern 3: Well, sir, the best option is just to wait it out. One good dose of ‘Good Grades’ helps to completely rid the body of the disease. ‘Parental Support’ is found to be very helpful in reducing its severity, though the disease has been known to die down a few days after the symptoms appear, without either of these dosages. Prevention is always better than cure, though, so ‘Doing Well In Exams’ is recommended, as it is an excellent preventive measure. Avoiding dependency on ‘Luck’ and other such restoratives also helps.

Doctor: Excellent! I’m impressed. I’m sure you’ll be able to take good care of Ms Clueless here onwards. I’ll be seeing you around. Good luck.

Interns: [beaming] Thank you, sir.

[End of scene]

[Cut to: another shot of the hospital room, with emergency alarms going off, and hospital staff rushing in]

Doctor: [rushing towards room] Stevens! Stevens, wait! What is the problem?

Intern 1: Sir, we administered a dose of ‘Good Results’ to the patient a few minutes ago, and she seems to be having an extreme reaction to it. She jumped out of bed and has been leaping around the room ever since. We haven’t been able to calm her, no sedatives seem to be helping, and she’s hugging and kissing everyone in sight. Not to mention the wild jumping for joy and the insane screaming – [shudders] it’s horrible, sir.

Doctor: Curses! Are you sure you gave her the right dosage?

Intern 1: [sheepish] Well...we might’ve upped it a bit. I have a feeling the dosage was quite more than what was required. We just didn’t want to take any risks. We’re extremely sorry, sir – it won’t happen again!

Doctor: Damn it! All of you stay out. I’m going to have to fix this myself…

[Rushes into room. A few minutes later…]

Doctor: [wiping brow] Well, it’s been fixed. She’s back in bed.

Intern 3: What did you do, Doctor?

Doctor: Well, it wasn’t easy. She was extremely ecstatic, and I had to come up with something, fast.

Interns: Well….???

Doctor: [smiling cunningly] I gave her a good dose of ‘Next-Sem-Is-Going-To-Be-Much-Much-Worse-And-You’re-Going-To-Have-To-Work-Twice-As-Hard-To-Achieve-Half-As-Much’. Yeah, long-winded name, but it was worth it. Brought her down like that. *snaps fingers* She’s in bed now, resting. And all her symptoms are gone. She’s perfectly fine. All back to normal.

Interns: [gushing] Amazing! This proves it - you really are the best doctor around here!

Doctor: [blushing] Well, I don't know about that. But don’t let me catch you making the same mistake again. Too much of a good thing can be harmful, you know. Always know the counter-cure.

Intern: Yes, sir. We understand.

Doctor: Good. Don’t just stand there gaping at me, now. Back to work, c’mon! Off you go!

[Shot of interns making their way back to their stations, smiling.]

[Fade to black]

Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘Grey’s Anatomy’. If I did, Meredith Grey would not exist. :P

*Dedicated to MG, Soleil and Bubble-Burster, who inspire fond memories, and without who ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ is no fun and isn’t worth watching. I miss you dudettes!

P.S. : Special dedication to BB, whose birthday it is today. Happy Birthday dudette, and here's wishing ya loads o' visits from McDreamy (in your dreams!) sans Meredith! Hope you have a great day! :D

Ready, get set...take off!

2006-05-16T12:16:00.000+08:00

Traveling by flights is almost always a pain in the neck. Well, literally and figuratively. I tend to get out of airports all disoriented and muddled, especially if the plane I’ve just disembarked from is a Singapore Airlines one. Why? Well, my poor brain just can’t seem to handle the pre- and post stress that comes with having to go through multiple security checks, form-filling and baggage claiming. But all this is a piece of cake compared to the trauma I undergo during the flight. Dear Lord, what a horror. 60 movies, 30 television shows, interactive games and 10 radio stations to choose from, and only 4 and a half hours to make the best use of it! Nobody, not even my worst enemy, should be put through such torture.

Fine, I exaggerate…tell me something new, will ya? Anyway, here, friendly reader, is a handy (ahem) to-do list that will help you through the trauma of flying by SA (or any other ‘big’ airlines, for that matter). Oh dear, dear. You’re most welcome. ;)

Let’s get formalities out of the way first. Pre-flight, check that you have your passport, tickets, yada yada yada, correct number of suitcases, blah blah, tooth-brush, paste, blah blah blah…oh, you know the drill. Or, easier, just follow the simple advice my father and brother always give me before each flight. “If you’ve got your passport and tickets, you’ve got everything you need.” Yep, everything else is replaceable. (I find this much easier to follow, since it conveniently eliminates any stress caused by wondering if I’ve packed everything I need. Trust me, the wondering…it can drive you crazy.)
Make sure you rest the previous day. Get a lot of sleep, enough to last you through the entire flight, however long it is (unless it’s one of those crazy over-12-hours flights that you make across continents – remind me to never take one of those again!). Don’t let the nice, soft purple pillow or the comfy blue blanket in your seat tempt you. You have a limited amount of time to make best use of the limitless entertainment on board. You do not want to come out of the flight and tell your parents/friends/siblings that you spent 4 and a half hours on an SA flight, sleeping. I’ve been there, and trust me, it’s not a nice place to be. *shudders at memory*
Look presentable. Make sure you spend some time grooming yourself before your flight. If you’re flying by a popular airlines, chances are you’ll meet a celebrity (fat chance, more like) or better, you’ll meet a cute/handsome/beautiful/smart/funny (choose desired combination) person on the flight or in the airport. And when you meet said person, you want to look your best, right? Right? Love at first flight. Ah, what a romantic story to tell your grandchildren! (Plus if, by a twisted turn of fate, you end up on a beautiful, deserted island, a la LOST, a nice set of clothes will come in very handy to trample about in the jungles in for the first few days, as you go around foraging for food and fending off monsters, at least until you find your luggage in the giant mess. Always camera-friendly, we are!)
Do not eat before the flight. This serves two purposes. For the queasy flyer – when you feel like throwing up or actually do so during the course of the flight, you do not want to be burdened by a stomach full of food. Quite gross, don’t you agree? For the non-queasy flyer (like me) – they (Evil Airlines People) are going to stuff you with drinks, snacks, more drinks, and a full course meal (this, of course, varies with the time of departure and arrival). A dinner at Burger King before your flight won’t leave you with much of an appetite for the aforementioned, and that would just be sad. Because sometimes, you gotta go with the Indian mentality: “If you’re paying for it, you might as well enjoy it.”
Always have a seat preference. Aisle or window. (People don’t actually prefer a middle seat, do they? Unless it’s between two people they know?) ‘Cuz if you don’t tell the pretty lady behind the check-in counter that you want a particular type of seat, she’s just gonna give you a nice, charming smile, and continue with her work. But you know what’s going on in her head – “Ha! Middle seat! Muahahahahaha!” Ok, maybe without the “Muahahahaha” part, but you know she just wants to push you into that middle seat nobody ever seems to want. Next thing you know, you’re sitting in between two large, bald men who keep asking the air-hostess for more beer. Don’t give in. Demand for a seat of your preference. Have the choice of sitting next to one drunk, bald man instead of two. Don’t let them (Evil Airlines People…who else?) win.
Brush up on your mathematics. A quick revision of ‘Permutations and Combinations’ won’t harm you. It is always best to know exactly how many combinations of movies and TV shows you can watch within your flight time. Account for time spent before take off and landing, time in the loo (avoid this if possible – go to the loo beforehand!) and rewatches (because horror of horrors, SA now allows you to fast-forward, rewind, pause, replay and restart anything you want, so there’s no chance of you missing anything because you didn’t start watching in time). Plan your strategy, your mode of attack, and proceed with the plan in an accurate fashion. If all goes well, you should be able to make the best use of your time and watch/listen to as much as is humanly possible.
Lay off the movies for at least a week before your journey. You’re gonna need all your strength to get through as many movies as possible on the flight, and it’s advantageous to have a clean slate to start over with. It might not be apparent, but digesting a movie is pretty hard work…and you’ve got 60 to wade through. Good luck.
Let your hand-baggage be big, so you can stuff in those cute little water bottles that they give you during meals or that delightful in-flight magazine you really enjoyed. They’re free! Nah, I’m just kidding. Don’t do anything like that. It’s wrong. *shifty look*

Ahem. So then. Follow this simple set of instructions and you’ll have a safe, pleasant and enjoyable journey. I hope. That’s about all I have for now. Do you have any handy tips you’d like to share, dear reader? ;)

BioD - Part II

2006-05-01T18:40:00.000+08:00

I've decided to finally get off my lazy butt and get this post out. 'Cuz if I wait any longer, the little bit of memory I have regarding this trip might just fly out the window. And oh, there's the persistent group of people yelling at me to get the post out and I'm scared they might do something if I delay this anymore than I already have. That too. *shudder*

Just kidding. :P

Ok, so on with the post. Buckle your seat belts and get ready, 'cuz this is gonna be one long ride. Ready? Ok, then! Let's go!

After two pretty eventful field trips, we (the gang) were very excited about our last trip to the zoo. We weren't expecting it to be as interesting as the one at Changi beach, since it was just gonna be a lot of walking around and staring at animals, but since it was our last field trip for the semester, we were all looking forward to having a good time and enjoying ourselves to the maximum.

We got into the buses, and after a nice, long, half an hour ride, came to our destination. Singapore Zoological Gardens. Or, more popularly, 'The Zoo'.

We entered the zoo and then split up into our respective groups and crowded around our TAs. Since there were so many of us going around the zoo, we decided to take separate routes. So, while some of the groups went around the zoo clockwise (its pretty much a huge, circular area), we decided to go anti-clockwise. Our Practical Manuals had been written with the zoo map in mind, so basically we went about seeing the animals at the end of the manual first, and then proceeding backwards.

So, we all rolled up our sleeves and started out on our long walk. We said hello to the camels, llamas and the komodo dragon (*shudder*, lizards, any kind, freak the hell out of me) and then walked into the polar bear enclosure.

Did you know that polar bears actually have black skin? Yep, they do! And their fur is actually colourless and transparent, not white. Polar bears are not suited for tropical regions, and even though the zoo does all it can to make sure that the environment of the bears is as close to their natural habitat as possible, let’s face it - Singapore will never be able to mimic the Arctic. Animals like these don’t belong to the zoo, but I digress. Back to the topic.

After the polar bears, it was time to pay a visit to our friendly ungulates – the rhinos. Not surprisingly, the batch we saw were rolling around in a pile of poo and horning each other. (Yikes. That did not come out right. :P)

This friendly little rhino decided to give us a nice shot of its rear side, while playing tag with its fellow rhino-mate. How cute.

We then sauntered over to the zebra section, where our TA decided to ask us a very enlightening question.

“Do zebras have black stripes on white skin, or white stripes on black skin?”

My thought bubble: “Um…does it really matter?”

The Black Stripes - the next big rock band...of zebras!

Anyway, for those who do care, zebras have black stripes on white skin. Not that it would make a difference if it was the other way round. Would it?

A little while later, we arrived at the lions enclosure. Just a bunch of them lazing around, lying in the sun, though I don’t blame them in the least. What a boring life they must lead, those poor animals.

This particular lioness didn’t look too happy to be photographed. I believe that is the lion-equivalent of a pissed off look.

Next stop, leopards. Interesting fact to know: leopards and jaguars can actually be differentiated by their coat patterns. Leopards have coats with rosettes (tiny circle-like patterns) without a spot in the centre, whereas jaguars have rosettes with the spots.

Can ya guess which one this is? Cookies for the ones with the right answer! :)

We didn’t realize how hot and humid the day had become until we stepped inside an air-conditioned room, which had creepy crawlies in various glass boxes. What a horrid decision to make: stay in the room and be surrounded all around by hissing, crawling, creeping insects that reminded us of Fear Factor (and not in a good way), or go out into the hot sun and start spouting sweat again. After some contemplation, we chose the latter and stepped out of the air-conditioned room, upon which MG and I had the following conversation.

MG: They should make the whole zoo air-conditioned, damn it!

Me: Well, if they did that, in about a 100 years, all the animals would’ve evolved and grown fur. Then we’d have nothing to see but furry animals all around.

MG: Do you think that in a 100 years, Singaporeans will all have evolved fur, given the amount of time they spend in air-conditioned rooms?

Me: Haha! Imagine that! Furry Singaporeans!

And we chuckled our way to the next exhibit. And the laughter died on my lips. We’d come to the freakiest part of the entire zoo. No, not hungry carnivores, or crawling insects or slithering snakes. Worse.

Butterflies. Hundreds and thousands of them. Acting completely out of character and buzzing around as if we weren’t even there! They managed to completely freak me out. A few butterflies fluttering by are ok, hundreds of them swarming around you like they’re about to attack you are not. *eeeks*

This particular butterfly climbed onto a guy's shirt, and refused to let go. We tried to shoo it, but it wouldn't budge! I ask you, is that characteristic of butterflies?!? Well, it finally let go, but I bet it was pretty pissed!

Well, after that horrifying event, we proceeded to another part of the zoo, which didn’t make me feel any better. Bats. Yikes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bat-o-phobic, or whatever you call it. I just don’t like them very much. Those long, leathery wings, those scary eyes, and the upside-down hanging thing – it just sorta freaks me out a little.

To make things worse, these little lemurs started hopping onto the platform and dashing around between our legs. I screamed and hopped and made quite a fool of myself trying to avoid them, and gave all my friends a hearty laugh.

Damn them lemurs.

After that, a baboon was nice enough to show us its colourful ass, and let us take a picture of it.

So did a crocodile (or an alligator – I couldn’t really be sure), but I’m not sure you can call that an ‘ass’, really. It’s more of a tail. But a fine one, at that. Magnificent.

After that, it was a quick stroll through the primate areas, where we saw the monkeys, the Hamadryan Baboons and banded mongooses…

Aww...look at that baby monkey! Koochie-woochie poo!!

Give this baboon a pair of spectacles and a newspaper, and he'll look like Grampa Baboon.

Wouldn't it be funny if the plural of 'mongoose' was 'mongeese'? :P

…followed by some baby kangaroos and a white tiger.

Aww...babies!

White tigers are an inbred and endangered species.

And with that, we were done. We’d made an entire round of the zoo, and it was time for our test (yes, we still had to endure that one torture before being let go of). We sat in a huge circle at the entrance of the zoo (I’m sure many tourists gave us weird looks) and wrote a quick 10-min MCQ test.

And just like that, it was all over. We all stood together for one group photo with our TA, and then we all gathered into our buses and rode back to the university (we made sure not to miss the bus this time around! :P). It was a happy journey, ‘cuz we’d all had an extremely good time and had gotten plenty of information on the various animals (stuff I’ve refrained from mentioning, ‘cuz the scientific aspects of zoo-traveling can get pretty darn boring for non-biology students :P) We came back all brown and happy, and decided that this was the best trip we’d had all semester. What a way to say good-bye to an amazing group of trips, where we’d gained so much knowledge in such fun ways.

I grouched about the subject a lot before the exams, but now that it’s over, I’ve gotta say this. Studying the subject was a great experience and a lot of fun and as much as it shocks me to say this…

I’m gonna miss ya, little fella. :)

Woo-hoo!

2006-04-30T18:51:00.000+08:00

'Crazily happy' does not even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now.

Exams are over. Finally! It's been a long, tiring, jam-packed, depressing and very stressful week and I'm glad to be finally able to leave it behind. The very best thing about exams is that amazing feeling of relief you get when you're done with them. And I'm extra happy this time, because I've worked my ass off the whole semester, and now I can relax without feeling guilty that I could've done more.

So let me relieve all my stress with this one barely-a-word word.

WOO-HOOOO!!!!!!! :D

Phew. That felt nice. Today's been awesome. I got up late in the afternoon (not that that's a rare occurrence in my case :P), went for a nice, long lunch at McDonald's with Macho Girl, and walked all the way back to PGP, giving my stomach plenty of time and exercise to digest all the fries. I can't believe that in 2 semesters, I haven't taken a walk around my campus and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. What an absolute pity. Well, I got a chance to make half a round today, and before long, MG and I will do a complete one. You know why? Because we can. :)

Ok. So I'm gonna do some unadulterated, blissful, guilt-free lazin' around now. But fret not, dear friends. I shall be back before long to get 'BioD-part 2' up.

But for now, it's do-anything-I-want-for-however-long-I-want time. :)

*contented sigh*

Break!

2006-04-23T11:46:00.000+08:00

Bloody exams are just round the corner. Gotta temporarily suspend the blogo-mania for a while, till I'm done and over with them. (And by blogo-mania, I mean the insane blog-hopping I do, not my infrequent blogging itself! :P)

So, adios for a week or so. And, as Soleil would say, "Ve vill be bak!" :)

BioD - Part I

2006-03-30T22:22:00.000+08:00

Biodiversity - LSM 1103. A module that requires me to be awake and aware at 8 in the morning on a Wednesday. 8 a.m in the middle of the week!! Someone on the time-table community (whoever makes time-tables anyway?) is a very cruel person.

Anyway, the module has one redeeming quality. The Practical sessions. Now, I wasn't very eager at the beginning of the semester about these practicals. Last semester's practical sessions were horrible. 12 hours a week spent in labs - doing actual work. Plus mounds of lab reports. (My friends and I actually got pretty famous for our 'lab reports'. The Life Science gang would always be busy, cuz they had some lab report or another to finish. Ah, how we infuriated the Engin gang!) I'd never have believed I could've gotten through so much work if I hadn't actually done so. So the prospect of another 4-hour lab this semester wasn't particularly comforting. Boy, were we in for a surprise!

The first few lab sessions went normally enough. Too normally. We (Soleil, Macho Girl, Andromeda and I...isn't it always about us? :P) had done stuff like this all through the previous semester, and were craving for a change. We got our wish about 3 or 4 weeks into the sem. We were going for our first field trip! I took the news decently enough, but in my head, I was going, 'Yeeeeehaw! Field Trip! Yipsie-dooooda!!' (Oh, c'mon! Like you wouldn't have jumped for joy at the prospect of 4 hours outside in the open after hours of being cooped inside a freezing, relatively unexciting lab!)

It didn't turn out quite as I thought. We spent a good part of our lab session that week inside the lab, watching what our TA called 'Plant pornography'. Movie after movie showing plant life-cycles. Now, I'm a Biology-fan, but yawn. Those movies were so damn boring! Way to make porn uninteresting. *sigh*

On the flip side, we did go outside. We took a loooong walk all around Kent Ridge and observed the plant and animal life there. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world (plus, we were faced with the prospect of writing an essay the minute we got back to the lab), but we enjoyed our 'day out'. Something's better than nothing, right?

For a few weeks after that we went through normal but good lab sessions. Nothing too boring, but nothing terribly exciting either. And then came our next field trip. To the friggin' beach!!! Whoa! Too cool! Suddenly, I had nothing but love for the module.

I remember the day we left for Changi beach. We were the first people on the bus; like little children on their first excursion we sat waiting for the bus to move. When it did, I actually felt like singing a nice happy song and getting the others to join in with me (luckily, I refrained myself in time!). After a long, extremely enjoyable 1 hour ride, we got to our destination. We split into our respective groups, and got to work.

My group was one of the first to get into the water. We were supposed to learn how to work the net to catch fish and weed, but I don't think anyone was listening. We just all rushed into the water, got completely drenched and played around for a while. As a consequence, we spent the rest of the session walking around in wet, heavy clothes. And any time we got close to getting dry, our TA would lead us right into another body of water, and come tell us to have a look at the interesting stuff. (Some of these 'interesting' things were barnacles on a rock, and the underwater ones scratched at my leg and made it bleed! I spent the rest of the trip chanelling Captain Haddock : 'The blistering bloody barnacles bit me!!' :P)

At the end of trip, exhausted but happy, we went to the changing rooms to get into dry and warm clothes. We came back...and everyone was gone! The buses had left, and we had been left behind! ('The blistering bloody buses abandoned us!!') We mooned around a bit, abusing the buses and all the people who hadn't missed us. Once we'd gotten our heads around the fact that the buses really had gone and wouldn't be coming back, we tried flagging down a taxi. It took us a long time to get one, and by the time we were all in the cab, we were pretty much ready to pass out from the exhaustion. Our cab-driver, taking advantage of our tired silence, merrily chatted all through the trip, and even gave us a 10 cent discount when we reached PGP! :)

The trip had been good, but the whole bus incident left us with a sour feeling. Ah, what a perfect trip it would've been if not for us missing that bus! Well, little did we know that our final field trip to the zoo would be one of the best we'd ever had!

Coming up: The zoo. And pictures!! :)

Hearty Handful

2006-03-01T17:58:00.000+08:00

So guess what I did for Valentine's Day? (Ok, so not on V-day, but the previous week, but its close enough!)

I held someone's heart in my hand.

No, no...its not what you think. Or maybe it is. How would I know? I'm not clairvoyant now, am I? Anyway, I digress. My point is, I didn't woo anyone or get wooed.

I actually held someone's heart in my hand. Really. I swear.

Ok, so here's the full story. Thursday mornings, from 10 to 12, Anna, Macho Girl, Andromeda and I (along with about 60 other students) do nasty things at the Anatomy Lab in the University. Now, before your mind wanders off to dirty places, let me elaborate. We look at dissected corpses (aka cadavers), and try and make sense of the jumbled bunch of organs in them. That's right. For two hours every week, the four of us fight off nausea and examine dead bodies. Doesn't that sound like fun?

Actually, to be truthful, it is. It wasn't fun the first day of lab when, horrified expressions plastered on our faces, we looked at two bodies mounted on glass cases right in front of the class. Bodies with heads, with eyes partially open, with ears and hair. Ew. All of us looked at each other with similar 'Good Lord, what the hell have we gotten ourselves into??' looks. What followed was worse. Bodies in bags. No glass case protecting us bewildered students anymore. We saw a tuft of hair peeking out from one of the bags and promptly proceeded to freak out. Our imaginations went out of control, and we thought the worst. (Remember all those times you watched movies that had dead people waking up in the morgue and thought, 'Bwah! That is so un-scary!'? Well, trust me, they can take a whole different meaning when you see rows and rows of body bags in a cold cold hall...brrr!!)

Anyways, coming back to the point, the lab assistants proceeded to show us cut up bodies, and describe the various muscles (it was our first lesson) to the utterly horrified (and terrified) students. And week after week, it just got worse. We moved on from muscles to lungs, hearts and guts. Yep, you read right. Go on, allow yourself to feel grossed out.

So the week before V-day, in an attempt to do something brave, we all held hearts in our hands. Tiny things, they are - fit right into your palm. We felt them, checked out all the lobes, auricles, ventricles and what-nots and even squeezed the hearts. And you know what? It actually wasn't as bad as I'd imagined it would be! Once we got over the initial shock (the heart was quite cold - something we should've expected, but never gave a second thought to), it became quite fun to hold the little things. Might sound barbaric, but its true.

Now, the four of us can look at anything and walk away without feeling grossed out. The video on the digestive system was probably the worst thing I've had to see in a long time, but all of us walked out of the lab that day like nothing had happened. Our stomachs can handle anything now. We've conditioned ourselves. Nothing can intimidate us anymore.

Urinary systems next, you say? Ah, I believe I speak for all of us when I say:

'Bring it on, dudes!' :D

Ek shaam, Shaan ke naam!

2006-02-13T19:49:00.000+08:00

Shantanu Mukherjee. Popularly known to many as Shaan. One of the most brilliant Indian singers I've ever heard. And yesterday, I had the wonderful chance of seeing him. Live in concert.

Shaan in Singapore!!! Wooohooo!! :D

After grabbing an early dinner at Komalas, Sayesha and I made our way to Kallang Stadium ahead of time, and like typical girls, spent around 20 minutes looking for the place the actual concert was to be held. (I for one, am a total direction dud...I can never find any place by myself, even if its staring me right in the face!!) When we finally got to the right place huffing and puffing (our seats were on the highest levels), we had to wait another 15 mins for the guards to start letting people in. My enthusiasm was already fading...all the waiting around was quicky sapping me of the bouncy energy I'd felt when I'd first gotten out of the cab.

My enthusiasm dropped another notch when, all settled and ready for Shaan, we were forced to endure MPM and the Rangers. The less that's said about them, the better...they were absolutely miserable. Well, to be fair, MPM had a pretty nice voice, but singing three full songs when the whole audience is impatiently waiting for Shaan, is stretching it a bit too much. After a lot of booing from the audience, she left...and in came Shaan.

The man is a living dream. He's cute. He writes and composes his own songs, and sings them to magical perfection. And as he showed us in the concert, he can hold his own on the dance floor. He's got a pretty decent bod too, which he flaunted for us when he took off his jacket for a Salman Khan number. He made several references to his wife, all of which made us in the audience go 'Awww!!' Needless to say, I had already fallen hopelessly in love.

He sang all my favourite songs. All of them. Movies, albums, everything. I sat in that hall for 2 hours in peaceful bliss. Shaan's got his way of making you forget about everything when he sings. All thoughts of my impending German test, which had been plaguing me all through the day, flew out the window. I even managed to ignore the blasted Rangers. For 2 hours, I listened to an amazing man croon amazing melodies...most of which I'm sure will carry me through many many years. I hummed along in some bits, but most of the time I just sat there open-jawed, at a loss for words to describe this miracle man.

Ah, what a day. It was amazing. I came back to my hostel happy as could be. I owe that happiness to three people.

To you-know-who, thank you sooo much for the ticket. I had a wonderful time and I wish you could've been there too.

To Sayesha, thanks for being such wonderful company. I don't know if I'd have enjoyed the concert as much if you hadn't been around.

And lastly, to Shaan. You made my day, man. Keep making beautiful melodies and singing them in that angelic voice, cuz you know what?

I'll always be there to listen to them. :)

Bibliotheque memories

2006-02-08T00:58:00.000+08:00

Libraries are wonderful places. They're quiet, they're peaceful, and they've got chock-loads of books. Lovely, interesting, amazing books. (Yeah yeah, I'm a read-a-holic, how'd you guess?? :P)

My school library was pathetic. As in...sad. Just plain sad. The only times we ever visited it, were during our weekly library periods, when the whole class would create a huge stampede, trying to find a good book to read (there were hardly any in our school's collection). The slower ones would get stuck with huge classics and just about manage to read the introduction before the bell would go off, signaling the end of class. Everyone would trudge out slowly - some disgruntled that they weren't able to get to the interesting part of their book, but most just plain relieved that class was over and they could stop pretending that they were actually interested in reading. Next week : same thing. Except, we'd all end up getting different books than the ones we got the previous week. I never understood why we never had some sort of system to record what books we'd taken, so we could continue reading the same thing over consequent weeks...it just didn't work that way. Nobody ever dared to do something else in those classes either - our formidable hawk of a teacher made sure we never brought text books or homework into the library. And the routine continued week after week after week.

(I enjoyed these library sessions for the sole reason that at that time, I was a complete book-nerd, who'd read anything and everything, even if it meant giving up the book halfway through. Yeah, I know. Weird. So, these library sessions never bothered me.)

Outside my school, there was another library. A public one, one that needed membership cards and things like that. And out here, it was a completely different story. The minute school let out, half the class would rush over to the library to get something to read. Some would sit right there, in a teeny tiny corner of the already crowded library and read something; others would take books home. For almost 3 whole years, I used that library with zeal. I read everything I could get my hands on.

Then Harry Potter came and another kind of madness ensued. I read the first four HP books from that library; I even remember being astonished at being asked to pay 40 rupees to read 'The Goblet of Fire' (inspite of having a membership) because the book was so huge!! I even kept the whole thing a secret from my mum because at that time, it seemed like a huge amount!! I told her later, though...but I can't really remember her reaction now!! :P

I spent many a happy day at that library with my friends. I spent so much time after school there that my automan (the driver of the auto that took me home from school) started to come there every time he wasn't able to find me in school. The librarian knew me by name, knew my automan by sight and always laughed whenever I begged my automan to give me more time to choose a book to take home. Those were the days.

3 years later. Today, I went to my University Library. One class ended at 12, another was supposed to begin at 4; so instead of coming back to our rooms where we were sure to fall asleep, Macho Girl and I decided to spend the day doing something constructive at the library.

All I'm saying is that the library authorities should know better than to put extremely comfortable chairs in corners of the library no one's ever bound to see you in. And we should've known better than to go sit there after a nice lunch, and try and read Jane Austen's Persuasion. Recipe for disaster. Well, recipe for a sound nap, at least. MG and I took turns napping on those comfy comfy chairs, and Persuasion remains unread to date. We really should've known better.

Ah, well. It wasn't a complete waste. One hour of peaceful, undisturbed sleep (something I've been wanting now for a looong time) and fond memories about times long gone and friends of yore.

Oh yeah. It's all good. :)

Profile pic

2006-01-23T23:18:00.000+08:00

Macho Girl made me this really cute name tag thingy long ago, and since I have no decent picture of myself that doesn't reveal too much, I thought I'd use this as my new profile picture.

Thanks MG!! Luv ya!! :D

Problem Solved!

2006-01-15T18:59:00.000+08:00

Hey y'all!!

Just wanted to say...the phone's been fixed!! Thanks to everyone for holding out for so long and being so patient with me. Now, its time for me to say,

"Bye bye, Miss Uncontactable!! Hello, SMSs, phone calls and mile-long phone bills!! YAY!!!!"

Um...that's all. Heh.

Byeeee!

Miss Uncontactable!

2006-01-10T12:56:00.000+08:00

Motorola A668. My phone. My very first phone. My only phone.

I saw it at the Star-Hub store in China Town. Sitting there, all small and pretty, beckoning me to buy it. I set my heart on it that very moment. Partly because it was so tiny and cute and partly because it was a flip-phone. I don't know why, but I have this huge fascination for flip phones...and its users.

Tring tring. Flip. Talk. Super cool!

So, ignoring my brother's constant dire hints that a Nokia phone is more user-friendly, I went ahead and chose the Motorola one. And it worked splendidly. I had no problems with it, and people admired it wherever I went. All good going.

Till one day two months ago, when it just stopped working. No previous warning. No slow deterioration. Just like that, it went caput. And my heart broke.

I didn't go to get it repaired at that time because I was busy with exam preparations. After that, I left for India. Now I'm back, and it still sits sadly on my table, looking misleadingly normal. I gotta go get the thing fixed. Not just for my sake or the phone's, but for those dear friends whose lives I've managed to disrupt, by becoming what they now call, 'Miss Uncontactable'.

We have invented bizarre ways for them to keep in contact with me everyday. But I know their patience is waning, and frankly, so is mine. I hate that I can't contact someone as and when I like it. I hate that someone can't contact me as and when they like it. And sometimes, this dependence scares me. For seventeen years, I lived without a handphone, without even an inclination to buy one. Four months of owning one has changed all that. Now I can't imagine life without it.

But hey, I made it through these past two months without it. I'm still getting by, aren't I? And that's the thing to remember. For all you phone-addicts out there, whose lives revolve around your phone, I'm your inspiration. If it ever comes to happen that your phone conks out (touch wood!), panic not. Be it an hour, a day, a month or a year before you get it repaired, I assure you that you will live to see it work again.

I made it through the crisis. So can you. :D

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

2005-12-06T00:35:00.000+08:00

Warning : extremely long post ahead. Joblessness is an absolute requirement. If you got work to do, then turn right back and come back later. If you, like me, ain't got nothing to do, then go right ahead...enjoy!!

I finally saw HP4 a few days ago. I’m in the mood for criticism, so I’m gonna do a review of the movie…just for my own pleasure, and for the information of those few people who trust my judgment. ;)

I’d have to give this movie an ‘E’. For all my Harry Potter-impaired friends out there, that stands for ‘Exceeds Expectations’. But then again, after the last 3 movies, I wasn’t very optimistic about this one. I was in for a surprise. The movie was well shot, and stuck to the book plot for a fairly consistent amount of time.

My biggest complaint about all the Harry Potter movies so far has been the deviation from the original book plots. Fans of HP will agree when I say that its irksome to see the directors swivel away from the original far-more-interesting story line, that too to introduce a cheesy romantic plot in the story, one that’s non-existent in the book.

I think this is the biggest disadvantage of making a book into a movie – it destroys the reader’s imagination. Before the movies came out, I had this whole visual in my head of what Hogwarts would look like, what Harry and co. would look like and how they’d behave. But then the movies came. And now, whenever I think of Harry Potter, pop! Daniel Radcliffe pops into mind. Same with all the other characters. It’s annoying, but then again, I chose to go see the movies, so I have only myself to blame.

Thankfully, the latest movie is good. Not fantastic, but better than the other three. And that’s a step in the right direction.

The Good:

The three lead actors - They’ve grown through the four movies, and their performance in this movie is their best so far. They are more believable in their roles – DR himself shows much more emotion than he’s shown in the past 3 movies. Good job, people.

Neville Longbottom – I don’t know why, but I’ve started to really like this guy. The actor and the character. All the Neville scenes in the movie were good, but I liked the scene with Moody after the DADA class in which he shows them the Unforgivable Curses. The guy is totally believable. Good job.

Cedric Diggory – Ah, what can I say? When I first saw the promos for the movie, I thought Cedric didn’t look all that handsome and was a tad too old to play the part. Well, I eat my words. He looked just the right age on screen, and he’s VERY good-looking. Made the movie worth watching. Hee. *swoon* Ok, I admit it. I’m shallow. :D

The Weasley twins – Splendid job by the two guys. They crack me up. They’re not exactly like I pictured them to be in my head, but 3 movies later, I’ve grown used to them. The part with McGonagall teaching Ron to dance was quite funny, despite the fact that it isn’t present in the book. (Additions like these usually make me quite averse to these scenes.)

Mad-Eye Moody – First time I’ve ever been able to relate one of the supporting actors to a character in the book. Good performance by the actor – I detected the right mix of tough guy and kindred soul in the character. Well played, Mr. Gleeson.

The Dursleys – Rather, their absence. I think it was a good move by the director to omit the Dursleys in this movie. Don’t get me wrong…the Dursley parts in the book are very enjoyable and provide a lot of insight on the characters, but if something’s gotta be omitted, I’d rather it was the Dursleys, than say, one of the tasks. Speaking of which…

The three tasks – Newell did justice to the three tasks. I was afraid he’d compromise on them for something like the Yule Ball. But I needn’t have feared – Newell gave due importance to all three tasks and the special effects were just brilliant. Kept me on the edge of my seat. Well, not really…but you know what I mean. :)

The Bad:

Dumbledore – Aaaaaah!!! I’ve never liked movie-Dumbledore – he does no justice to book-Dumbledore, who’s among the most likeable characters in the books – but this time over, movie-Dumbledore just grated on my nerves. He doesn’t portray the enigmatic, funny, witty and charming man he’s supposed to play. And he’s got an American accent, complete with the rolling Rs. I actually went “WTF???” when he said Harrrrry Paaadder. You’re supposed to be British, damn it!!

Emma Watson – I don’t know if its just me, but I thought she delivered all of her lines in a flustered, jittery voice. Angry, sad, happy, scared…same tone. She usually plays Hermione well, but this time, I think Watson was a step down from her usual performance.

Barty Crouch Jr. – He was in Harry’s dream? Huh? Harry’s not supposed to see him till he is revealed to be the fake-Moody at the end!! Well, I guess we’ll just have to chalk it up to the ‘deviations’ that I was talking about earlier.

Viktor Krum – Too bulky. And stony faced. I don’t think I detected a trace of emotion throughout the movie. Ah, well…it can’t all be perfect, right?

Well, there you go. The good overweighs the bad. All in all, a movie to watch. Preferably with friends – they make the bad seem…well, less bad. I have no regrets about watching the movie; I just hope to God the next one is as good, if not better.

And sorry for the extremely long review…I’ll never make it as a film critic. Sigh. Oh well…I’ll settle for film-watcher for now. ;)

Home at last!

2005-12-05T01:11:00.000+08:00

Wow. Just wow. Four months have literally flown by. Feels like just yesterday that I was sitting nervously at the airport, waiting to get on the plane that would take me to my new home – my university. And now, I’m sitting back at the home I started from, completely overwhelmed at the way time flies. At this rate, I’ll be old and wrinkled before I know it!! Ok, that’s depressing. I’ll choose not to think about that right now.

Happy thoughts. That’s what I need to get me out of this depressed mode. And I have them in plenty. The last day of sem was fabulous. (The last exam, of course, wasn’t! :P) The moment the clock struck 7, my friends and I bolted out of the exam hall, dodging all questions about how the exam went. 8 o’ clock, and we were at Orchard. Ah, beautiful Orchard, decked in Christmas décor. Admittedly, the decorations were a little on the tacky side, but I don’t care. I swear, the moment you step into the street and see holly wreaths and pine trees in every shop, you feel the festive spirit sink in. Orchard brings out the celebratory side of me. ;)

The five of us went shopping, but as usual, didn’t end up buying much at all. I’m not very keen on shopping, but when you’ve got four other wacky girls to joke around with, anything can become enjoyable. Hee. After a very late dinner, we went to watch the 11.30 pm show of Harry Potter 4. 3 hours of pure enjoyment. Now, I do have my complaints about the movie (I’m a perfectionist, I am!! :P), but I’ll save that for another post. All I have to say that the movie was worth staying up till 5 in the morning for – it was thoroughly splendid spending all that time with the gals, trying to figure out which part of the book they had cut out and which lines were not originally from the book. It helped that the guy playing Cedric Diggory was quite the charmer!! ;)

We came back to campus at around 3 in the morning. Since I’d not done an ounce of packing, I started right away. It wasn’t all that bad as I thought it would be (I tend to exaggerate the difficulties of packing…as demonstrated here) and with all the help Macho Girl and Anna gave me, it got done in a surprisingly short time. The flight home wasn’t bad either, though I really wish I’d slept the night before… I managed to watch ‘ 50 First Dates’, but missed the chance to see about 59 other movies, because I was so darn sleepy!! What a waste of an SQ flight…damn.

Well, I’m home now, pigging out on Mom’s food and trying to re-watch every episode of Friends ever aired and having a jolly good time. (Would help if the comp at home wasn’t so slow…I hate having to wait 5 mins for a page to load, especially when I’ve become so used to broadband in 4 months!! Computers spoil people, really…)

That’s about it for now. Hope to keep updating often; keep checking! :)