On the sunny island Singapore...

So now that Amar has completely chickened out of the trip down to Singapore to say farewell to mao mao, guess it'll be the usual quiet bus ride without the excessive blabbering fanfare. I think I'll still have to hear the blabbering fanfare when I get back, but yeah, a few days without it would be even better. When are we starting the gay gym buddy thing, Amar? Chien Liq's got dips on becoming my gay gym buddy otherwise.

I'm not doing anything to help Amar. Perhaps I should?

Nah...

-------------
It just takes three days at home, just THREE, to realise that I am talking like my mother. It's the phrases, the diction, the 'holier than thou' way of talking. I love my parents, but the sickeningly unique individual inside of me is saying: "Go out and be your own person and not the porcelain model your mother carved out of you"

(Fidel, all this individualistic quirkiness must have rubbed off from you!)

And if I haven't said it before, I'll say it again. The plans for the upcoming Fresher's Camp look great! I couldn't be prouder of you guys. All the more I can't wait to meet up with my batch. To think that the last time we possibly sat down and had a good laugh together wasn't since the cast and crew dinner. Five months! The many ridiculous things that could have happened since then that we haven't had a chance to laugh over!
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Last but not least, Singapore itinerary goes somewhere along the lines of:
1) Lunch with my brother to go through his incredibly long personal statement. CT Rep? CCA camp leader? Research work? Somehow he didn't think they were important enough to tell me about.
2) Say bye bye to mao mao
3) Meet the tchbs bunch (we were *this* close to not making it weren't we)
4) Meet odacians!!!
5) Visit my guardian
6) oh yes, see Nicole!
will add more to the list when I'm actually there...

pssst!!!

I'm home. Flight was surreal. Neither here nor there. London nor PJ.

All at once it feels as if I was at Gloucester Tube station just minutes ago and at the same time I don't think I ever left Malaysia.

A part of me always stayed right here with the paper thosai and pushy killer motorbikes. It's nice to see you again.

[oh yes, my sim card has gone awol so I have no handphone. the home number is the same as always. msn me if you need it. since when did msn become a verb?]

[[amar, we're goin to spore this wednesday. shall i book tickets? is good ol' mummy and daddy letting you out of the house yet?]]

On the virtue of selfishness and the incredulousness of it all!

So, this is the sixth and last week of our stay in 'the house that isn't ours'. It's been all so nice of Raymond and Shu Hui to make our stay as comfortable as they possibly can. It hasn't been so nice for us to have to foot half the rent of 'the house that isn't ours' for all 3 months of summer (and such a shock it was to discover it).

This has nothing to do with the members of 'the house that isn't ours' who have been trying their best to lessen our part of the payment by trying to find others to stay over summer (i.e. the above two). That leaves less people to speculate about, doesn't it?

This is infact an incredulous story of immense selfishness and scrooge-like miserliness, far greater than any I have heard before. Perhaps it is only right that we pay for their rent such that they are able to store their own things over summer for free. Perhaps it is only right that they take up a whole room to store their things such that Raymond and Shu Hui were forced to forgo an extra tenant whose share in the rent could have lightened the load. Perhaps it was only fair that they who are storing for free did nothing to ensure that there would be tenants over summer, but left the burden to their housemates who were staying for summer. Perhaps it is perfectly fine for them to now use the petty excuse "but that's what you said" to refuse our request for them to chip in 50 pounds each and instead accuse their housemates of going back on their word to let them store for free.

Self interest has become such an ugly word.

Harem Girl #34

... somewhere across 2 continents at 3 a.m. Malaysian time...

*~*Charlotte*~* says: what?
*~*Charlotte*~* says: are u still online?
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: no amar is sleeping
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i'm number 34 in his harem
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i'm just checkin my email
*~*Charlotte*~* says: how many more are there after you, number 34?
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i don't really know, he won't say...
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: but i could guess...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: and does he satisfy you?
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: ohhh boy
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i'm crashin over cos i still can't walk straight
*~*Charlotte*~* says: now now... we don't have to pretend here... amar's asleep isn't he
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: no - really
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i sure as hell didn't leave my nail marks in his back by accident...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: out of malice i'm sure... *cough*
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: malice for making me come 3 times in a row?
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: haha darlin you're obviously jUSt a friend of his
*~*Charlotte*~* says: this must be why he hardly ever sleeps before midnight...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: so many women to attend to
*~*Charlotte*~* says: so little time
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: damn sometimes i wonder how he keeps goin like that
*~*Charlotte*~* says: perhaps it's artificial stimulants, or hmm... prosthetics
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: prosthetics?
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i don't think sooo......
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: mind you i get a great view of it
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: and i can say its 100% natural schlong
*~*Charlotte*~* says: yeah... and it's potong-ed
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: all the yummier, darlin
*~*Charlotte*~* says: (i wonder what would happen if i blogged this)
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: haha i saw your blog from his favourites
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i'd say it COUld use some spice
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: but i wouldn't know what he'd say
*~*Charlotte*~* says: i'm sure he wouldn't mind the world knowing about his schlong...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: i'd say there's only the possibility of one person refuting it
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: helloo
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: sounds like a story i don't know about
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: lemma have it!
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: i know i really shouldn't
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: but hell since you've piqued my interest
*~*Charlotte*~* says: ah, maybe you should whisper the word *name removed to protect the offended* into his ears one night...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: might instigate a rather surprising response...
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: aand what is that supposed to do?
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: is she like a nasty bitch of an ex or sumtin?
*~*Charlotte*~* says: i don't know.. he might just ferociously turn you over and shag you silly...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: and well, if you say she's a nasty bitch of an ex, then she's a nasty bitch of an ex
*~*Charlotte*~* says: i wouldn't put words in anyone's mouth
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: well i was just guessin'
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: so i guess you didn't know THat much then hmmn?
*~*Charlotte*~* says: well, besides the fact that she COULD do with *insert anything you want here*...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: no.. i don't suppose I know much
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: ho ho hooo
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: maakes sense
*~*Charlotte*~* says: but i suppose you get more than the simple back rubs and rose petal showers he gave her...
*~*Charlotte*~* says: mundane aren't they?
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: awww that sounds really sweet......
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: well he gets straight to the point
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: but he does it gooood
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: who needs all that sensual mushy shit when he ...
aMaR - gambling is baaaad says: well i shouldnt really get into details tho.
*~*Charlotte*~* says: no no you shouldn;t..
*~*Charlotte*~* says: keep checking your mail, girl.. now that's a good concubine

One for the reptiles...

Let it be known that I am no big fan of slimy, googly-eyed dinosaur descendants (tail-less ones in particular)

But I am a huge supporter of any opportunity that encourages the many voices of Malaysian youth to speak as one and be heard. Be it the lalat on the wall or the cicak on the ceiling, we're listening and observing, but by no means should we keep quiet!

Go see: The Cicak

thumbs up for This Guy, and the rest of the reptilian team!

--------------------------------------
In other news


The Helios Airways crash in Greece is a tragedy I would never wish to read about. Listening quietly to a Greek PhD student talk animatedly about it in the lounge of the Kennedy Institute did it no justice. From what I know of Greeks (and this is my opinion only), they love the sound of their own voice. But this was not the time to be regaling a horror with such exuberance. 121 people dead, 80% of them frozen to death before the crash. They deserve to rest in peace

I never wanted to go to Cambridge, mum

Cambridge is lovely. It makes you feel like being an all serious scholar and studying. It also makes you very tempted to run across the manicured lawns for fun. Apparently only the fellows are allowed to do so.

I can't help but feel relieved we can run, jump, lie, roll around Queens lawn all we want.

It rained such miserable rain today. The colleges still looked lovely in their sorry dripping wet state. The last time I was there some 8 or 9 years ago, it was part of my mother's careful strategy to inspire her first child to graduate from one of the oldest and grandest academic institutions in the world. I'm actually very glad that never happened. (I swear I reeeallly tried my best, mum!)

We (Lionel, Chun Xian - a classmate of Lionel's, and I) met up with Fidel and Jenny (both doing summer attachments there) and Song Choon (senior, doing his postgrad there) and Tzo Zen (Rafflesian alumnus and Cambridge undergrad).

Now that we're done with tedious introductions to everyone...

We saw a lot of the interwoven university town. We must have walked everywhere thrice. It's nice to have everything in walking distance of... well, everything, and being able to walk freely on cobbled 'pedestrians only' streets. However, the touristy feeling of Cambridge gets a little irksome after awhile. Imagine poking your head out of the JCR to find Japanese tourists taking photos at Queens Tower!

As much as I grudge Imperial for not having that old, classical academic institution look instead of its defiant glass and metal Tanaka building, I can't imagine wanting to be anywhere else but in this grand old city.

Oh and should Tzo Zen ever drop by this blog again, in restropect I realised what I said during lunch must have sounded terrible! I didn't 'remove' her link from my blog, I removed all my links when revamping this blog last year, and lost all my links in the process. Thus not remembering how I found her blog, I never relinked it. I've linked it back again after some searching. It's wonderful that google still keeps really old stuff in its caches. And I do like Tzo's site. It's all her. That's the kind of project I'd like to target this summer, saying that I recover from this malaise called procrastination.

I'm snowed in!

Wish it were half that exciting. I'm just locked in.

I took an hour getting dressed this morning, and when I was finally satisfied that I looked good enough to walk out of the door to college (and it was still early, mind you!) I could not find my keys! I searched everywhere. My table, Lionel's table, under the tables, under the beds, under my laptop, all my handbags... so when I'd finally pronounced my keys lost, I called Lionel.

"Did you take two sets of keys with you?"
"Why would I have two sets of keys?"
"Well you took my keys yesterday when you took the trash out, do you remember where you put it?"
"I really have only one set of keys with me. I'd know if I had two. Look carefully, you'll probably find it"

Fine! Can't argue with boyfriends who always think they know best, or do so because you allow them to think so.

I searched every visible inch of the flat again, and finally gave up. In immense self pity, I cooked myself an enormous lunch of 10 expired sausages and 4 grilled mushrooms and cheese. To cheer myself up I put tomatoes in two of the mushrooms. Useless info of the day. I'll put up photos of my little creation when I feel... motivated.

And while I was dicing tomatoes in my pretty red sparkly top which will not see the light of day today, Lionel called.

"Helloooo...?" he said, testily.
"HMmph" was my reply.
"I found the other set of keys. They were in my bag."

Oh well, all's forgiven.

I think I'll cook a tomato dish for dinner. Lionel abhors tomatoes.

Springs of Hope

I almost didn't hear the phone ringing while I was trying to scrub chilli oil stains off the stove. (Why am I cleaning stoves in the house that isn't ours? Don't ask. It's just me. I'm restraining myself from putting all their plates and cutlery back and cleaning out the drying rack.)

I almost didn't want to answer the call. It was definitely going to be another estate agent offering properties and we're just so tired of looking! All we want to do is sign that damn contract this evening.

But I answered it.
"Are you still looking for a flat? Redfield Lane? 380 a week?"

I think my prayers have been answered. There are moments like these, almost insignificant, but for a split second you think - God hears prayers, prayers not spoken or recited Hail Mary's for. Or maybe He hears my mother's fervant prayers. For her daughter to believe in lifting burdens up and letting everything go. Only divine intervention could have made her hopeless daughter answer a call she didn't feel like answering, admit that she was still looking even though she thought she had decided, make an appointment to view yet another house even though Lionel was getting grumpier by the day.

And like a moment of epiphany, iTunes has chosen to play

"... there will be an answer. Let it be... let it be..."

The little thrills...

of my daddy working in the government!

The Ministry of Trade and Industry to be precise (oh yes, dear old Aunty Rafidah is his boss, and the ministry is so filled with gossips at the moment that my mother daren't even discuss them with me in English for fear of bugs on the line, but scathingly warns me in Cantonese).

Just the last weekend I ranted to daddy about the ego-bashing Malaysia's bio-valley ("bio-what?", you say) received in Nature last week. [See a reprinted version here] . My daddy in his ever calm civil servant manner instructed me to e-mail the article to him which I obtained in pdf form from Lionel who had received it from A*Star (oh, the Malaysian bashing that's being circulated!)

My daddy responded this morning to tell me that he has passed on the article to the appropriate people and some action will be taken.

Oh, that makes me feel all warm inside. I have done my part in alerting the Malaysian government. A teeny weeny contribution from one of its young 'hopeful' citizens.

And I fear there will be more Malaysia-bashing (or Malay-bashing rather) from the International community to come. Like this commentary from the BBC. My country really is a lovely place. Rather silly people run it, that's all. And with an over achieving sibling down south, no wonder we never look too good.

Chicken soup for the trash

Never. Ever. Try Knorr's sachet of chicken noodle soup. Ever!

Even if you were caught between a can of beans and Knorr's chicken noodle soup, eat the beans I beg you!

It's pure ajinomoto with yellow colouring (which sticks to my ceramic spoon) and that's only on the surface. You can argue with me that I would happily eat unhealthy Indomee on any other occasion, but at least I don't use the ajinomoto laden bumbu sauce!

It's the vilest thing I have ever tasted. Even more vile than some of the putrid concoctions the very same owner of the chicken noodle soup can come up with. Lu, I swear if your tua chee brings back anymore of those corn soup and chicken noodle packets, I will throw the bitchiest hissy fit you would never wish to see!

On a different note. This is house viewing week. Which means I send out emails to lots of agents, hoping they will call me back, and when they do, I have to try and persuade them that I don't really want a luxury 500 pound flat, and just the backwater ones will do. A good lot of them don't sound too happy entertaining students. May their kids live at home and off their money forever.

We saw 3 flats yesterday, and we reeeeally like one of them which has a very cosy loft. It will be Lu's room, and Amar's crib when he comes to stay if we decide to get it. And its not too far from Tescos.

Will be viewing more flats today and tomorrow. Keeping fingers, toes, legs and eyes crossed!

Flower Power!

Regents Park in all its floral glory (with some fauna too!) And all thanks to my marvelous little Olympus... no thanks to Lionel's battery-less Nikon!


And right out of a 'flower power' hippie's van, we also got caught up in a charity concert, alternative version of Woodstock, aptly named - Fruitstock!



With its very own 'flower' van nonetheless

The Saturday and Sunday that comes before a Monday

The weekend is ending in an hour and a half, and I am just ready to knock off for the night! My feet are killing me, and I think my shoes have grown half a size smaller if that is possible.

I feel like I've been walking since Saturday afternoon, when we walked 20 minutes from Seven Sisters station to the Tottenham football stadium. Great seats, boring first half, amusing goals in the second half. I'm not a footie fan, but I now know the thrill of seeing a goal being scored before you very eyes and not seconds later on TV when you're getting munchies and miss the golden moment anyway. Understanding the offside rule will come later. That's advanced stuff.

After queueing halfway around the block to stuff ourselves into the Spurs store, we emerged pretty unscathed with a new cap for me and a new T-Shirt for the Spurs number one fan (who sits as calm as Buddha throughout the entire match!)

Then we made the long journey back to Kenway Road for the potluck dinner hosted by Xiao Yin. Loads of food. Too much food. But good food, nonetheless. However, maybe potatoes, pasta and all starchy stuff should be banned from pot lucks. It's really had to enjoy everything when you are stuffed after just 4 mouthfuls!

Today we wandered around and about Regents Park. By the time we reached the London Zoo it was too late to get in, and Lionel's camera had run out of battery. My camera worked like a charm. I love my little Olympus. Who needs those huge heavy-ass cameras when my little mju 300 and a bit of twiddling with Picassa will do the trick!

Photos to follow soon. I just need a long long nap now.

The Photo Meme

*This has got to be one of the 'funnest' memes I've done in awhile! I didn't have to rack my brains to write a single humourous word and knock about the dust bunnies in my skull while I'm at it. All I had to do was to type in my answers in a Google Image Search and use my almighty optical mouse to select the image I liked best! *clasps hands in kawaii-ness glee*

Oh shudder! Shall stop that for now.

*courtesy of my niece, aun teeng.

1. The age you will be on your next birthday

2. Your favourite colour

3. Your middle name

4. The place you lost your virginity or would like to if you could
(type places like "my bed", "the woods", "onboard the startrek mothership")

5. A bad habit of yours

6. Your favourite fruit or vegetable

7. Your favourite animal

8. The city you live in

9. The name of a pet

10. Your best friend's nickname

11. Your first name

Your last name

The one you love

If my mother sees the news in London today, I can bet you I'll be hauled home in no time at all. It's getting harder and harder to convince the world outside London that things are alright here and that I will not use the tube.

I am however feeling slightly relieved knowing that in 2 weeks time I'll be home. It may not be safer. I daren't even walk the streets of PJ alone after dark the way I do here. But at times like these, it's sometimes better to be in a moderately Muslim region, isn't it?

In other news:
Quirky penis jokes

courtesy of who else? maybe it should read Quirky's penis jokes. But that just sounds wrong...

During lunch yesterday we discovered that only Adam and I had finished the 6th Harry Potter book, that Hugo abhors Harry Potter ("Where's the child in you?!?"), and Kunal... well Kunal just doesn't read at all.

Inspired by our trivial lunch time conversations, I ditched trying to detect cepstrums (don't ask!) to finish off the book I've had my nose stuck in for a week.



It's gripping, it's chilling, and its startling to read it late at night when the water pipes get cranky and bring on the spooky drumming noises. How the house that does not belong to us can ignore those LOUD drumming noises, I just can not understand. But the book's good. It makes me cry. Quietly. Slavery is really no different from rearing cattle.

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I've reached a Nirvana-esqe level of procrastination. I really have to get this project going somewhere. But I just can't swallow anymore of these equations, algorithms, incantations and muddle-isms! It's amazing how easily the human brain just shuts down when one is not in danger of failing exams. All my faculties of reasoning are on permanent 'out for lunch' mode. Not surprising. They are Malaysian after all.

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

I've got 3 weeks left in London, and all of a sudden my social calendar is ready to burst. There's football this Saturday, and a potluck to herald the arrival of Kwan Eng's girlfriend. In the meantime Sherene has given Ritwik and I strict orders to meet up. This is going to be so interesting. I haven't the faintest clue what Ritwik looks like! The following weekend will be spent at Cambridge. Can we raid YOUR fridge for a change, Fidel? Maybe we should bring the fruit liquor you bought us and get rightly high! I'd drink it, but Lionel already says I'm alcoholic enough without needing your fruit liquors to tempt me.

I have also promised my old roommate (the Claudia Schiffer duplicate - but oh so brainy) Kristina that we have to meet up. Maybe I should invite her over for dinner. Miss her so much.

And just yesterday we had coffee with Angela. Boy is life much less exciting when she isn't around to shock your synapses. I hope we've persuaded her to never try bringing back weed to Singapore, ever again!

My ever loving ISE classmates have also made an alarming vow to get me out clubbing. They won't accept my feeble excuses of "No! I really DON'T club!" (Liar!) "... and I don't DRINK!" (Who are you trying to kid?) "... and my boyfriend won't let me go!" (Oh alright then...). I'm glad that one always works.

And I really don't club. I know Kunal says I used to be at the union in my first year, dancing, chatting up and being chat up. But first year is a wild card year. Anything goes. Including my money. I've sobered up, and I have no excuses (apart from the fact that I always have enough money now). I am a party pooper. I'll still drink though, I just won't go pub crawling with you guys.

Peanut butter your way to a girl's heart

I stumbled onto a blog which had the opening scene of Meet Joe Black. Sherene and I watched it illegally after A-Level Further Maths, when it was supposed to be lights-out... and gushed about Brad Pitt and peanut butter for days on end. The coffee house scene in Joe Black is every girl's dream, or at least mine (although I have to quickly add that I am happy with what I've got, and no, it doesn't hurt to wish for more romance in my life).

Sherene, the above link is for you!

We're having primordial soup for dinner, honey? Is that ok?

Nothing makes me happier than waking up late, defrosting some chicken while I chat with Sugi and take a bath (not simultaneously), and then marinating it in some concoction that I will only know the results of when I see the look (grimace) on Lionel's face tonight.

I wish I didn't have to graduate with an engineering degree, aim for a 5 figure salary, and buy a Jaguar before earning the right to become a tai tai. I would just buy the Jaguar, with or without an engineering degree. But, I think I can do without knowing how to prove the Nyquist theorem in order to spend my lifetime doing simple, fulfilling things - like making chicken soup on a rainy day and sorting out the spice cabinet.

Oh, before I forget - Happy 21st Birthday Xiao Kai. Wishing you many piggy years ahead. One day the world will say "Yes, he was the greatest slut that ever lived". Only Shan'er would disagree. He'd say you were the biggest bitch alive. Ah, only you would know that insults are worth their weight in gold! Since you're always on the receiving end of them.

--------

We've been spending our weekends walking. In the beginning, it was because I couldn't bear to remain in the house that isn't ours, so he'd take me out, to run errands or just do nothing. We never really know where we're going to end up. It's always just "Let's go see this", or "I can't sit down after eating so much, let's go walk around". And then we'll wind up in King's Road dropping into Habitat and John Lewis and other home-making shops, wistfully wanting the comfy looking hammock and toe-snuggly rugs that cost an arm and a leg and half a kidney. Or we'll walk down Knightsbridge and laugh at the outrageously snooty things in the luxury rooms of Harrods and Harvey Nicholls, and sometimes I'd try them on for kicks. Or we'd walk from Edgware to Paddington, in search of a path we've never been down, just to see what it looks like, and wind up having dinner at Queensway. Or find ourselves on Regents Street where the discovery of Godiva chocolate milke shake (a dark, dark beauty) was made! The sun that never sets, only makes it easier. The autumn winds that are warning of the returning cold can't hold us back. We're going to make it all the way to Camden one of these days. We'll talk and walk and this will be the summer of our lives. Autumn will never come. Or so we believe.