Saturday, January 31, 2004
Thirty-two years after this gangster classic was released, I thank myself for channelsurfing (not typing away at the laptop) at the right time. However I have to blame tv for showing it at 11pm on a friday night. I was too tired to watch the whole 175min of it, as much as I tried to. It wasn't boring (in fact the very opposite), but I only possessed enough energy to watch it through the front bit, slept through the bit after Mike Corleone returned to US and finally woken up in time to catch the brilliant cinematographic ending. I love the grainy earth-toned shots as they were, and thought it should seem quite a violent movie then in the 1970s. No doubt I will be getting the vcd to catch my very own cult favorite in its entirety. Even I, am suprised that I would like the film so much.
Which movie do you think am I talking about? If you know, you probably would either be way old, or just fancy old stuff, like me. Don't cheat.
Which movie do you think am I talking about? If you know, you probably would either be way old, or just fancy old stuff, like me. Don't cheat.
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Notes from an Even Colder Office Environment, courtesy of Ms. P
Food, is on our mind all the time. Barely hours into the morning, we think about lunchtime. Some others don't ponder so much, but mostly because they have had a late breakfast across the road. During our hearty lunch, we assure ourselves of how sleep would slowly but surely blind our minds in the early drowsy afternoon.
Look wow, an antique laptop. Betcha you didn't know they still exist, and well they do. I am the proud user of this lovely grandmam. Thankfully, I need not lug her around and there she sits obediently on my workstation all the time.
I can't end this without a brief introduction to my mentor-senior, Mr. P (the real one, and a very serious worker at that) who has filled many an inept intern's day with laughter, diarrhoea, knowledge and constipation of sorts. No one can blame him for displaying strict regulatory instructions on his cubicle premises since he is one who rather devote a week of his precious time to serving the nation than idle time away. What can we say but Kudos to the man!
Food, is on our mind all the time. Barely hours into the morning, we think about lunchtime. Some others don't ponder so much, but mostly because they have had a late breakfast across the road. During our hearty lunch, we assure ourselves of how sleep would slowly but surely blind our minds in the early drowsy afternoon.
Look wow, an antique laptop. Betcha you didn't know they still exist, and well they do. I am the proud user of this lovely grandmam. Thankfully, I need not lug her around and there she sits obediently on my workstation all the time.
I can't end this without a brief introduction to my mentor-senior, Mr. P (the real one, and a very serious worker at that) who has filled many an inept intern's day with laughter, diarrhoea, knowledge and constipation of sorts. No one can blame him for displaying strict regulatory instructions on his cubicle premises since he is one who rather devote a week of his precious time to serving the nation than idle time away. What can we say but Kudos to the man!
Monday, January 26, 2004
This ought to be front page newwwws baby. Cover material to tell the distrusting world how America isn't doing it for the oil or for a decade's worth of father-son grudges. Nor for wag-the-dog spindoctor tactics either, as critics choose to believe. Alas, the following was published today on disappointing page 17 in the local papers.
London - Part of Saddam Hussein's secret weapons programme was transferred from Iraq to neighboring Syria, and their status has yet to be resolved, Mr David Kay, the just-resigned head of the Iraq Survey Group, told the Sunday Telegraph in what it called an exclusive interview. Mr Kay told the newspaper that he had uncovered evidence that unspecified materials had been moved to Syria shortly before the start of the Iraq war in March last year. "We are not talking about a large stockpile of weapons," Mr Kay was quoted as saying. "But we know from some of the interrogations of former Iraqi officials that a lot of material went to Syria before the war, including some components of weapons of mass destruction (WMD) programs," he said. Mr Kay stepped down Friday as leader of the Iraq Survey Group which, 10 months after the US and British invasion of Iraq, has yet to find any of Saddam's feared WMD.
London - Part of Saddam Hussein's secret weapons programme was transferred from Iraq to neighboring Syria, and their status has yet to be resolved, Mr David Kay, the just-resigned head of the Iraq Survey Group, told the Sunday Telegraph in what it called an exclusive interview. Mr Kay told the newspaper that he had uncovered evidence that unspecified materials had been moved to Syria shortly before the start of the Iraq war in March last year. "We are not talking about a large stockpile of weapons," Mr Kay was quoted as saying. "But we know from some of the interrogations of former Iraqi officials that a lot of material went to Syria before the war, including some components of weapons of mass destruction (WMD) programs," he said. Mr Kay stepped down Friday as leader of the Iraq Survey Group which, 10 months after the US and British invasion of Iraq, has yet to find any of Saddam's feared WMD.
Sunday, January 25, 2004
I'm not much of a dreamer. Sleep, not a wandering mind, is my major nocturnal activity. Most nights, I will sleep till daybreak, wishing that I could sleep some more. But I woke up this morning with remnants of a dream in my head. I remember various flickering details but not the all-important throbbing heartache that I had during the dream. I can't recall anything about the heartache except that some guy (who?) got to do with it and that I had cried and looked sad - remembered people (who?) around me who were quite understanding towards my sorrow. The sadness was strangely overwhelming, probably the guy had died or had gone away. I don't know. I don't think I would ever know. Dreams, they evoke emotions so strong that even after I wake up, when the dream is long gone, those seemingly-real emotions linger on still.
Saturday, January 24, 2004
I went for some last-minute new year clothes shopping on the third day of the lunar new year. Not surprisingly, quite a few shops were closed for the holidays. I myself don't see the point in opening my shop too, if I am a shop owner. Who in the right mind would wander in malls when festivities await in cozy homes - eat drink make merry mingle gamble angpows away.. But anyhow, I did manage to see something I like, although not quite within my budget. I rather not see anything suitable than see an expensive something that I fancy. Particularly when I know my mind will not hesitate to play the devil's advocate whichever decision I finally make. I went home without it, nagging thoughts full of should-Is and should-I-nots. Caught in a tussle between wants and affordability, I can't help but agree that money is indeed the root of many regrets.
Friday, January 23, 2004
Nothing gets better than Kent at the break of dawn. Tom does so deserves a pat on his back for his part in introducing me to them then.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
There's more than enough reasons to celebrate. When I'm staying up really really late and no one bugs me about the biological clock or haggard looks or beauty sleep. Not even mom. I never realize age-old Chinese traditions can be this hip.
Monday, January 19, 2004
Clickbang! and the box shuts up. There's just this thing about Indian guys (from India no less, because local Indians are pretty much a fine bunch) in chatrooms. No I am not racist as much as my first statement is made out to be and yes they are very much a put-off crowd. If this matters, I happen to have real-life good friends from India whom I enjoy hanging out with. The objective reader must now understand this is not about some personal grudge against a couple of Indians who made bad, very bad moves in private messages. This is about Indians flooding chatrooms clearly not labelled 'Tamil Nadu' or 'Delhi Global Chat', the online equivalent of walking down a street and having dozens of strangers pouncing on you. This is about Indians who after a hasty introduction, make no effort to sound any less desperate in attempting to date females. This is about Indians who think bragging about fast cars and lotsa money can put an end to their lonely expat/Indian lives. This is about Indians who so claim they are 'white' or intentionally refrain from revealing their South Asian roots until the received photo loads up to be distinctively Indian. While I do pity the few good Indians who unfortunately have to put up with the infamous reputation their fellow kinsmen have built up, I clearly have enough of the rest, of their deceptively innocent hi s, or rather lies. Stay clear, I bite. I don't even feel like going to chatrooms anymore.
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Just the other day, a conversation with two expats sobered me up on cultural differences. Their perspective on life and marriage is in short:
lots of sex
clubs
more sex
party
... the good life till late 40s
then marriage
onetime sex with a 20-something wife
have a kid
and die.
They are appalled at people who remain virgins till marriage and keep at just one partner in life. While they do seem like cute nice humorous guys, I don't figure most girls they hang out with would appreciate this level of honesty. And their impression of Singaporean girls, "easy". That doesn't impress me so much, and I feel darn girls out there must have some part to do with it by fawning upon white expats like demi-gods.
lots of sex
clubs
more sex
party
... the good life till late 40s
then marriage
onetime sex with a 20-something wife
have a kid
and die.
They are appalled at people who remain virgins till marriage and keep at just one partner in life. While they do seem like cute nice humorous guys, I don't figure most girls they hang out with would appreciate this level of honesty. And their impression of Singaporean girls, "easy". That doesn't impress me so much, and I feel darn girls out there must have some part to do with it by fawning upon white expats like demi-gods.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
Hey Thanks Cab, I got the cd last Wednesday in the mailbox. The cover was a lil cracked but it doesn't matter because along with that (post) christmas (cool) postcard, it's all but a testimonial that you are no doubt as real as those handwritten words (a santa drawing attempt inclusive) that I am reading hehe. I love it. One small all-american package from Kunsan AB, a giant leap for our friendship. Way to go pal and boy, am I excited. p/s Notwithstanding the above, you will still be receiving approx 80%-meanness, 15%-rivers rambles and 5%-friendship from me. By the way, I thought Mr SD was supposed to be part of the real deal too...? Erm hmm.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Sore throat. I can feel it, almost - inching up my throat bit by bit. I gulped down mugs and bottles of water. I bought some lozenges. I'm doing everything to make sure it's not going to happen to me, even though the signs are already so clear.
Sunday, January 11, 2004
I reached home today, after three days away from the hussle buzz-buzz of citylife. The trip to grandma's has always seemed like a semi-annual retreat to the suburbs - no cell phones and no internet access. For my duration there, the pace of life is comfortingly slow and lazy, similar to the Southeast Asia described in the historical narrative books - many an afternoon of sweltering heat which inevitably drives one into the tempting shade. I spent my days reading, watching cable or on an occasional trip downtown (with adults, never on my own). In exchange for the usual freedom whatever, I get the company of my small extended family in return. Each time our stay draws to a close, the heart-warming moments of hugs and goodbyes, of returning to a home 300km away from my aging grandma remains most amplified in the car ride to the bus station. This feeling full of regrettable emotions is one that I must continually remind myself not to lose track of as it grows faint in the daily grind of citylife back home.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Just another work day.
Sunday, January 04, 2004
Darn drug addict/ drunkard. To think I had second thoughts about accusing him or wondered if I had imagined matters.. he really did finger my mini skirt's back pocket. He touched me, he tried to pickpocket. I regretted not causing a ruckus with shouts of "Pickpocket!"/ "Molester!" and Wham! Bam! Slam! balloons. But I did not regret ruining his chances by informing his next (potential) victim after me - caught him in the act and matter-of-factly informed the confused guy. K has kindly offered his bodyguard services, which I may take up if it doesn't cost too much.
Saturday, January 03, 2004
Thanks "Tiger" (haha!) for the good time at Molly's on NYE. It had been fun, minus the returning-home episode which is well, no fault of his. I'm sure Fiomoe and The Boyfriend would have definitely agreed with me. Irish Bailey Cream and Whisky Sour are my current new faves, can't beat that. Although we didn't see the fireworks nor dance the night away, we did manage to get loads of confetti strings and foam, courtesy of fellow pubgoers who had gone amok with New Year glee. There was this caucasian geezer who even sprayed some confetti on an unsuspecting policeman patrolling by as we clapped and cheered in encouragement of the deed.
On another note, things are starting to look slightly brighter on some family issues. But I am still adamant on my future plans and current views. I am, and will be, the black lamb of the family.
On another note, things are starting to look slightly brighter on some family issues. But I am still adamant on my future plans and current views. I am, and will be, the black lamb of the family.
Thursday, January 01, 2004
It's off to a bad start this new year. And it's strange how I seem to be proving my mom right, that I probably don't care for my family as much as most girls do.
"The most unreasonable people are the ones who are wrong and yet see themselves as being right. I rest my case."
"The most unreasonable people are the ones who are wrong and yet see themselves as being right. I rest my case."
