profile Firmly believes in life after death. Secretly addicted to Gossip Girl & ATNM (oh, the shame). Finds painting own nails therapeutic. Takes an eternity to make a decision. Likes to swim. Fancies self as seasoned chef in manner of Masaharu Morimoto. Hates driving during rush hour. Feels happiest waking up to bright sunny mornings. Is afraid of cockroaches and balloons. Dislikes awkward silence. Buys too many dresses and not enough comfortable shoes. Is convinced that people only appreciate what they have to work hard for. tagboard archives February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 August 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 skin by: Jane |
Tuesday, January 20, 2009 @ 10:23 AM
What the bush She was wearing a chiffon blue-green dress that flows past her knees, crystal-studded white sandals on her feet. Her long hair was swept up into a neat bun, revealing a pair of elegant pearl earrings on her earlobes. Clutching a white Dior handbag in between her right arm and chest, Mrs. E leaned over to my mom and started talking animatedly about her last care group activities. All around us people were loitering around, eating the rolled cakes and drinking tea prepared at the foyer as they mingled with each other like they always do after church service. I smiled politely at Mrs. E’s aging mother standing behind her as Mrs. E flailed her arms around describing the nasi briyani Jennifer, no, Marissa, no she thinks it’s Jennifer afterall, prepared for the care group. My mom was asking her about the care group meetings when a couple of middle-aged women walked past and Mrs. E waved them over to introduce them to us. Then I saw it. A clump of hair poking out of her half-sleeve. I blinked and she went back to clutching her handbag close to her body. I shook my head slightly; the thought of a well-dressed, educated lady like Mrs. E to even consider not shaving her armpits was unfathomable. I tried to remember when the last time I changed my pair of contact lenses was. One of the women asked for a pen to jot down Jennifer’s home address. Mrs. E released her clasp on her handbag to grope for a pen she kept inside. She had the longest armpit hair I have ever seen on a grown woman. It was so wildly unkept it reminded me of furballs coughed up by kittens. Or random haystacks rolling through windy deserts. One gets the point. It was nasty. For the rest of the conversation that went from nasi briyani recipes to college applications, it took all my concentration to tear my eyes away from her armpits. It was like an optical illusion test – the second you figure out the picture within the picture, it’s the only thing you can see from then on. Mrs. E mentioned my name; I looked up a little too quickly, momentarily startled. She was smiling at me expectantly; I smiled back uncertainly, a little embarrassed at being caught red-handed (for not paying attention to the conversation, not for staring at her armpits as one would at a trainwreck). My mom placed her arms around my shoulders and answered for me politely, steering the conversation away from me. Finally the group of women broke up and left with their husbands and kids; my mom and I started walking over to our car. I waited until Mrs. E and her family was way out of earshot before I opened my mouth to tell my mom what happened. But my mom beat me to it. Did you see the hairy armpits?!? Monday, January 19, 2009 @ 7:55 PM
Cookies A-Bakin'  Fields of almonds...
 Set them on fire~
 Smells like caramel...
Break 'em up.  Unceremonious ending.Friday, January 16, 2009 @ 11:48 AM
Fireworks The air conditioner was on full blast; I snuggled deeper under the sheets. His eyes were glued to the TV showing the latest Heroes episode. I tried to stay awake but my eyelids were getting heavier by the minute. I could hear Claire pleading with her dad and Hiro’s last conversation with his mom, but it seemed like it was coming from a faraway place… Bursts of small fireworks broke through the chilly night sky, lighting up the darkness with vibrant arrays of colors and patterns. The temperature rose unexpectedly; it was almost as if the fireworks had dispelled the chills. I could feel the starting of a warm, delicious sensation running through my body... The fireworks continued, each explosion bigger and brighter than the last. My heart thumped loudly as I witnessed the mesmerizing display with growing excitement. Somewhere in the background I could hear the ending theme from Heroes, but the fireworks kept appearing out of nowhere, much to my curious delight. I could feel my cheeks heating up to a brilliant blush, reflecting the lights from the fireworks. Nevertheless, the fireworks increased both in frequency and volume, turning the dark skies into a romantic sunset. The background noises from a sports channel were drowned out by sudden breathing sounds; it took me a moment to realize it was my own. I struggled to steady my breath - this was simply a dream, albeit an alarmingly pleasurable one. But the sunset looked so real, the fireworks so bright and alive… As the stunning fireworks made a canvas out of the glowing skies, I knew the finale was inevitable. Soon enough, the surrounding skies shone with beams of red, orange, and gold so loud it almost blinded me. I shielded my eyes from the explosions as the last crackles subsided, and the voice of a sports commentator came back to the foreground. I opened my eyes to see him staring down at me, grinning from ear to ear, his fingers stroking my face in a slow, soothing motion. I turned my eyes to the TV. Half an hour has passed since I dozed off. Tuesday, January 13, 2009 @ 12:14 PM
Released No more overuse of anti-bacterial gel, no more forlorn-looking boyfriend on adjustable hospital bed, no more tasteless hospital food, no more depressing hospital patients, no more going home to overwhelming silence… No more reading newspaper together with boyfriend, no more snuggling with boyfriend on single hospital bed, no more sharing hospital food despite tastelessness, no more laughing together at stupid British comedians on TV… Important thing is surgery is over, recovery is time-consuming but optimistic, and boyfriend is skipping and hopping his way around the house. Saturday, January 10, 2009 @ 12:08 PM
In the hospital Pushing through the door, I found the boyfriend lying down on the hospital bed, watching Mr. Bean on Disney Channel. His face broke into a faint smile when he saw me, and scooted over to let me sit beside him. Handing him the daily newspaper, I placed the paper bags of food and clothes onto the bedside table and made myself comfortable next to him. We talked idly as he flipped through the day’s paper. Everything seemed normal except for the obvious bandage on his left foot. I sighed inwardly, careful not to let my worry and fears show. Doctor said I could probably go back on Monday, he said, noticing my eyes on his foot. Can’t wait to get out of here, he continued, not without a hint of frustrated boredom. I gave his hand a small squeeze. Me too. Friday, January 09, 2009 @ 12:04 PM
Just a few stitches I tried to downplay the whole thing by joking about it (e.g previous post), and almost convinced myself that this surgery will be clean and simple. Surgeon cuts multiple warts out from boyfriend’s foot, boyfriend will walk free from the dulling pain on sole of feet after eight years of enduring it. But after seeing the stitches and actual result of the surgery… 
And this was already cleaned. When the doctor first opened the dressing, fresh blood was gushing out of the seams of the stitches profusely. Being a naturally squirmish person, I was a very reluctant witness to this whole scene but boyfriend wanted to take pictures of the wound, and the doctor kept referring me as his wife that one feels obliged to take on the expected role of a dutiful wife and fulfill the wounded husband’s request. When the doctor wiped the oozing blood off with packets of wet, sterilized cotton buds and a grotesque brownish liquid to form and drip onto the pillow, I almost lost it right there and then. My throat was closing up, hot tears were stinging my eyes, and any food in my body was threatening to go on reverse gear. I had to struggle to maintain my composure. My only comfort was that boyfriend did not seem to feel any pain or discomfort from the massacre on his own foot. But God has been gracious. When the doctor came to check on the boyfriend again the next day, he seemed slightly surprised at the healing process and commented so. If God can bring the dead back to life, the boyfriend will do well under God’s care. Wednesday, January 07, 2009 @ 11:34 AM
Flaky Intentions The boyfriend's gonna be checked into a hospital for three days starting tomorrow for a minor surgery on his foot. I jumped at the sliver of a chance to Although technically it is a minor surgery and boyfriend is physically capable of preparing overnight kit and checking in himself. UNLESS, boyfriend absolutely insists that I accompany him during his stay in the hospital. Can't really ignore the requests of a boyfriend in need then, can I? It would be terribly cruel, not to mention of bad form. So I waited. Boyfriend suggested no such thing. Decided to take things into own hands. At dinner with friends four days before hospital check-in. Concerned GF: So how you gonna check in on Thursday? BF-In-Need : I think I'll juz take a taxi. What do you think? Concerned GF: Mmm... Or I can take the day off and help you? *tries to appear nonchalant* BF-In-Need : No need la. I'll settle myself. Maybe I'll ask Audrey to send me. Concerned GF: But she's started work adi! *mentally wills BF to read minds* BF-In-Need : Oh ya. Never mind, I'll just take public transport. Concerned GF: Oh ok... you sure you'll be okay? BF-In-Need : *laughs* Yes Dee. Don't worry. Thus first attempt to get needy request from boyfriend was unsuccessful. But, do papa penguins stop nesting their babies because it got a lil too cold? No Siree! They hang onto their eggs and persevere, as shall I (persevere, not nest my eggs). SMS conversation three days before admittance. BF-In-Need(?): Need to prepare things to bring to the hospital. Like tissue paper, cup, towel, etc. Very Concerned GF: Ohh I can prepare those things for you. BF-In-Need(?): Hehe its ok la dee, think i'll bring them when i check in myself. VERY Concerned GF: Ok... u sure u don't need me to take leave? BF-Not-So-In-Need-Afterall: Haha no need la. I can settle myself. Double refusal from boyfriend despite selfless(!!) offer of TLC. Decided to stop pushing it or boyfriend will begin to sense something amiss. Still concerned for boyfriend though. What if doctor accidentally leaves medical devices inside boyfriend (altho technically surgery is on foot)? What if boyfriend gets attacked by horny nurses while in unconscious or weakened state? What if boyfriend gets fitted with metal skeleton and claws in manner of Wolverine during surgery as part of top-secret test research for next national defense invention?? Wild imagination aside, am genuinely concerned for the boyfriend. He'll probably be in crutches for weeks even after he gets out, and there really might be unforeseen complications after the surgery... Maybe should take leave after hospital check-out! Afterall, isn't it part of one's obligations to sacrifice one's time and work for physically-impaired loved one in manner of Gabby for blind Carlos in Desperate Housewives? Monday, January 05, 2009 @ 4:31 PM
I hereby resolve to... I know I've just denounced yearly goals and resolutions as flaky and unrealistic, but eversince I posted that entry my mind's been flooded with suggestions and things to do (not necessarily limited to this year only; preferably all things achieved will last much longer) that I've decided to risk being labeled a hypocrite and join the resolution-list bandwagon too. Things I resolve to do/achieve starting now: - read two books every month (magazines and instruction manuals not included) - bring own bible to church service (maybe install bible software into phone?) - spend less on clothes and shoes - set realistic goals (in response to above statement) - go for regular pap smear check-ups (eeps) - pay phone bills on time - put more effort into keeping in touch with friends and family - reply emails and text messages more diligently (in response to above statement) - start prayer journal (use half-used journal from previous year) - be less abusive to boyfriend (suggested by said boyfriend) - clean bathroom twice a week - make full use of gym membership - call parents more often - learn how to do bikini wax on self (am told is physically impossible but will not give up trying – wax salons are expensive!) - exterminate ants and mosquitoes from face of earth - conquer fear of cockroaches and balloons - find out own alcohol limit (has never been drunk despite several reckless drinking sessions) - research permanent cure for heartburn/gastritis - switch from toxic, bleach-soaked pads to organic, environmentally & vaginally friendly pads/tampons Sunday, January 04, 2009 @ 7:48 PM
Christmas & New Year Pics  Yum Char after Christmas Eve service.
 Puuut~. New Year Eve party.
 Compromising position.
 Tipsy boyfriend.
 With aforementioned drunk boyfriend.
 Blurry group pic. Bring it on, 2009!Saturday, January 03, 2009 @ 12:55 PM
Fish Scales The back of her shirt was drenched from the rain dripping from the edge of the oversized umbrella covering their makeshift stall beside the road. Both her husband and her were squatting over an enormous wooden chopping board, handling one fish after another at the request of the few customers standing over them. The stench from the vast arrays of fish spread over the neon blue plastic cover on the tar road was overwhelming; I clasped the umbrella I was sharing with Mom between my arm and chest to cover my nose not-so-discreetly, squirming as something that resembled a fish scale fell on my right feet. The lady handed Mom the bundle of fresh fishes she'd ordered over the phone earlier. Mom indicated for me to carry the wet plastic bags as she took out some money from her purse for the lady. I reached over to grab hold of the plastic handles with two fingers and waited impatiently for Dad to come pick us up. I dumped the bags into the car the moment Dad pulled up next to the stall and got in, immediately wiping my hands and feet wih the scented anti-bacterial gel I always keep in my bag. The traffic lights were still red. I looked out of the window at the fish stall. The lady and her husband continued to chop and gut the fishes in the middle of the pouring rain, occasionally wiping sweat or rainwater from the faces with their rough, bloodied hands. The colorful, oversized umbrella hanging over their little stall was not enough to shield both of them from the rain; the man's t-shirt was soaked to the bone, but he seemed oblivious to it. Both their black rubber boots had millions of fish scales stuck on them. I looked at the scented anti-bacterial gel still on my lap, down to my scale-less feet, and felt a sense of guilt creeping up on me. They're here selling fish everyday, rain or shine, Dad spoke suddenly, looking at me from the rearview mirror. They travel early morning to get the fishes daily from some pantai, and set up stall here till late at night, or until they finish selling all their stocks. The lights turned green and we moved along; but I was intrigued. Do they earn a lot of money this way? Dad shook his head slightly. Probably enough to live day by day, he said as he increased the speed of the wipers, the rain splattering ever so heavily. It's a tough life for a lot of people out there. It was a humbling moment of self-reflection. So caught up was I with the holiday season and everything (and everyone) around me that grumbling about not having enough annual leaves, cursing my job for violating all sorts of labor laws, swindling medical leaves in order to indulge in my notions of a "well-deserved holiday" seemed to have become acceptable behavior (to self). I'd allowed such materialistic notions to manifest within me a childish sort of bitterness towards my current work circumstances. I need to be rid of this obnoxious and immature mindset. Immediately, something like fish scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again. - Acts 9:18 Friday, January 02, 2009 @ 3:17 PM
Obligatory Year-end Post (Belated) Was surfing through the usual blog haunts and realized the similar theme typical of this time of the year. Flashbacks and reflections from the previous year (2008), and goals and resolutions for the coming one (2009). I've contemplated going through the details of last year, but there's just too much to bring up, too much to explain (coz I'm so anal about everyone understanding the intricate details of my life). All I can say is it ended pretty damn well. *beam* As for the nuu eaar, who knows? Never been a believer of yearly resolutions and goals, or birthday wishes, for that matter, so not gonna set any here. I do believe in wishing everyone around me well, that everyone will have a year they can look back and reminisce fondly about. Already I know of more than a few couples scheduled to be married throughout this year, which must be so exciting! And people starting new jobs and relationships, moving into new homes, welcoming new babys, etc! Me? I think I'll just stick to welcoming the new year as it is for now. X) |