I am...

...feeling slightly neglected.

Life here felt exactly like I've wrapped it up and put it away, only to come back and unpack it...to find that people have moved on and are too busy for me.

I feel like I wanna fly back now.

:(

Homeward bound

Its 8pm now, and I've been on the go since 7am this morning. I'm airborne somewhere in the Middle East, dinner is about to be 'served', and another 7 hours before I land.

I fervently hope the boy is now safe and sound back in Sheffield (at least Meadowhall Interchange, as his bus is due to arrive at 8pm). We've spent three nights in London, and it was an amazing time - eating Malaysian food in Chinatown, going to the British Museum and dropping our jaws at mummies, watching the sun set on Tower Bridge, watching Phantom of the Opera on the absolute worst seats in the entire theatre. It was good.

And I can not be grateful enough, or affectionate enough towards the Boy at the moment. I wonder how and why, through all my ill-spirits and unkindness, that I deserve such a good-natured, humourous, thoughtful and lovely person. And I feel awfully bad that he's probably waited at the Victoria Coach Station for hours, bored, tired, sleepy and grumpy, for his bus that's not even due until I've
landed in Bahrain.

He is awesome. And 4 weeks til I see him again.

Now: Bahrain.

I've found the wettest toilets ever. Bahrain Airport female loo was invaded by women of I don't know where (I'd hazard a guess of somewhere in South Asia) with cloth covering their heads loosely, and them washing their faces and feet in the same toilet sink. It wasn't just wet, it was flooded. I forgot how disgusting wet toilets are. And I've forgotten how humid and warm night airs can be.

This is just a teaser of what is about to greet me when I step off the plane in KL. Hmm.

I've also met two Chinese Malaysians at the boarding gate: both works in Ridyadh as nurses. One immediately told me she's earning RM15 000 per month. Telling me maybe all those repression in the Middle East is a good thing, that the UK and the US is too free. The other seemed more wise, telling me it's not the money that mattered, even though many nurses came and went in Saudi Arabia because they could not tolerate the culture or society, they'd learn something and bring it away with them. Even a year out there would be good for anyone. I couldn't agree more though I've spent a year in one of the freer societies in the world and I doubt I can go to somewhere like the Middle East and ...fit in. I already feel slightly ill at ease, needing to put up pretenses and self-censor, something we all learn to do well; whispered, hushed conversations instead of open, frank discussions. If only the first nurse found out my boyfriend is an English lad and I've embraced the 'irresponsible' life...

Oh. I don't know, this homecoming is such a confusion for me. I wonder what the next four weeks will entail. We shall see.

Meanwhile, I've loved and hated London. The crowds. The impatience. The pushiness. The hecticness. The rush. The beauty despite its perpetual sounds and smells.

Thank you, Tim.

All done...

...with dissertation.

Finally. The final piece of work I'll hand in for academic purposes. I think I'm done being a student...for a while anyway. Unless....I don't have to write dissertations. Come to think of it, maybe I'd like going back to Primary 1 and start all over again. At least I know what I'm doing second time around. I'd do food science. Or cook.

But I'm just blabbering. This will not be a very coherent or even eloquent post; I'm just too frankly tired.

I promised myself to finish dissertation last Friday evening but I ended up going to the library at midnight on Saturday and printed my dissertation at 3.30am. After an hour or two of iplayer after that, I was dead to the world....except at 7am we woke up for a carboot sale. I got a nice denim jacket out of it for two quid. And a grater for 20p. And Tim's got a mini fridge for £2.50. And we had nice steak sandwiches. And we went to bed again til 2pm. And then I got up to...pack. We left for Tim's parents' house at 7.10pm...and made and ate lasagne at 12am.
I got him up at 10am to head into town to get my dissertation bound, had some sandwiches, window-shopped, then I collected my dissertation, ran to the department to submit it, and went home to...pack. Finished packing finally and then I collapsed into bed again and waking up at 9am on Tuesday because the van guy's coming at 11am. Took only half an hour to take all my worldly possessions in UK across town, and I'm now living out of boxes for the week before I head down to London and then home, and after a bit of unpacking, went to the department to chat with international students and then headed to Meadowhall for Yo! Sushi (we have a 40% discount voucher!!!) and I went all out. We walked around just a little bit...but I was tired, and my feet were so sore, and my brain was so numb.

By the time Tim and I made it back to my new place and after watching Mathilda with my new housemates, I was so exhausted I fell asleep mid-kissing.

And Wednesday we walked back into town to the train station so that I can get a new railway card and collect my deposit for the Boomerang and get new keys cut. And when I go to donate blood, the nurse asked if I've been stressed lately....boy. Does she know.

That's it. And now I'm idle and got nothing to do in a strange new house and a new status. I've got a splitting headache. I will call my boyfriend, then head for a shower, then watch iplayer til I fall asleep.

My Chinese name

To be quite honest, I've never really checked what my given names meant, and only idly wondered a few times when I have been asked.

So...

许 xǔ
English Definition:
1.to allow
2.to promise
3.to praise
4.perhaps

佩 pèi
English Definition:
1.to wear
2.admiration
3.jade pendants

怡 yí
English Definition:
1.happy; cheerful; joyful
2.harmony

Source: http://www.ourchinese.org/

What does it translate to then?

"To promise admirable joy" ??
"A promise of joy" ?
(Since I'm *wearing* it and all that)

*tah hah hah hah hah*

Okay well, not quite.

I like the whole "wearing" and "owning" being joyous. And peaceful.
Its a good name, I now know.
Me mommy and daddy wants me to be happy.
Awwwww.

Of time and timing

I've just recently watched A Series of Unfortunate Events, and not really being aware that the antagonist is played by Jim Carrey, I almost smacked the laptop, broke the DVD and poke a few needles into his imaginary voodoo doll. I don't like Jim Carrey, in case you did not get the gist already.

My arms are so sore. My legs are sore. My brain is numb. I just want to sleep and read some vapid chick lit, sip tea and sleep some more. I just moved this morning. Did the bulk of moving my belongings last evening, and then four hours unpacking, before I realise the contract ends 19th and I'm only staying there for three weeks, if I extend for a week. If that. My laptop broke down. Well, the inverter did. To put it in a nutshell, everything works as per normal, except the screen is dim. I can see faintly that there's things on the screen, just that the light isn't there. It will cost me £70 to fix it. And I don't even know how long it will take. I miss my laptop already. On top of that Tim's laptop was hard hit by an amusing virus (at least I secretly think so). It gave him a blue wallpaper with a few paragraphs on it with misspellings and bad grammar saying things like "Your're computer is infected. For your family, your children, your friends, please get antivirus". What's not amusing is that he'll have to reformat. At least he's got his data backed up with some pendrives last night. Speak of a series of unfortunate events now. Two computer nerds computer-less for a few days. How are we supposed to function?!

I've also just gotten an extension for my dissertation. I can technically hand it in on 28th September now. Which I hesitate to do. Ideally I still want to finish by 14th, or maybe around that time, because I want to relax and do my thing. This shackles called Dissertation is sucking the joy out of my soul.

Last night, after unpacking, Tim and I walked home from Boomerang to Central Quay for one last time. We had one last walk by the river. The three white (edible) ducks that never failed to sleep at the same spot weren't there. Perhaps it was too cold. Too windy. Too wet. But I felt the pain of lost so acutely. I've stayed there for almost an entire year, and what a year it has been. I've enjoyed my own ensuite, and cabinet-hogging in the kitchen, and a lot of privacy. I've even enjoyed staying in 2 flats that wasn't filled to capacity.

Boomerang is almost entirely opposite. There's 6 of us in a small flat. The walls are thin and noises carry. I can hear people peeing and flushing the toilet that's next to my room. I'm staying with 5 people I know. There's not much space in the kitchen for me to hog. And I sleep on a single bed. I guess it's really not bad at all because I'm now 5 minutes away from the library, but its just a lot of change to cope with at the moment.

Moving was also stressful - I came to this country with three bags, and over a year I've accumulated so much things that I'm ashamed of myself. In my defense, a lot of them are castaways that I scavanged. That's the joy of living in student accomodation - in a corner reserved for unwanted items, I've picked up duvet sheets, blankets and throws, boxes, bags of clothes and stuff, crockery, utensils and things of all sorts. I've also been to car boot sales and picked up pasta jars, photo frames, clothes...

I wonder when and if I do go home for good, what am I going to do with them things.

So anyway, the year I had in Central Quay - it was good, but nature states that nothing stays static forever. I cannot stop the sands of time slipping through my fingers, the only thing I could do and will do is to cherish and treasure the memories. And the memories of walking in flip-flops in winter to Castlemarket, catching the 52 bus, the walks along the river, the sounds and atmosphere of the pub downstairs...I'm grateful for the experience.

Moo for Malaysia.

First off, I really kesian this cow.
Disclaimer: Apologies for the squirmish ones, don't scroll down!





Opps, sorry, too late

I hope that cow was slaughtered for food, and not for the sole purpose of being marched up somewhere, displayed and insulted, spat and stomp on. And surely not in the holy month of Ramadan.

Here's the story:

By Shazwan Mustafa Kamal, Malaysian Insider

SHAH ALAM, Aug 28 — A group of Malay-Muslim protesters claiming to be residents of Section 23 have threatened bloodshed unless the state government stopped the construction of a Hindu Temple.

Amid chants of "Allahuakbar," the group also left the severed head of a cow at the entrance of the State Secretariat here as a warning to Selangor Mentri Besar Tan Sri Khalid Ibrahim.

The "residents" said that the construction of a Hindu temple in a 90 per cent Malay- Muslim neighbourhood was insensitive because activities there would disrupt their lives.

They claimed that the "noise" from the temple would disturb their own praying, and that they would not be able to function properly as Muslims.

The group of 50 over protestors marched shortly after Friday prayers from the Shah Alam State mosque to the State Secretariat.

“I challenge YB Khalid, YB Rodziah and Xavier Jeyakumar to go on with the temple construction. I guarantee bloodshed and racial tension will happen if this goes on, and the state will be held responsible,” shouted Ibrahim Haji Sabri amid strong chants of “Allahu Akbar!”

Ibrahim identified himself as the Deputy Chairman of the Resident’s Committee against the building of the temple in S23 here, which is perceived by some as being a Muslim majority area.

He told the press that the state should move the temple to Section 22 as ‘originally planned’, and also labelled Khalid a “traitor to the Malay race and Islam”.

It is understood that the protest is an immediate reaction towards the Selangor MB’s visit to the Hindu temple site yesterday, an act seen by the "residents" as disrespectful to the Muslims of the community.
Mohd. Zurit Bin Ramli, who claims to be the secretary of the "Coalition of Malaysian NGOs" echoed Ibrahim’s stand on the matter, saying that it was irresponsible on the part of the state government to approve the construction as there was apparently a “90 per cent” majority Muslim population in Section 23.

“With a temple on our residential area, we cannot function properly as Muslims. The temple will disrupt our daily activities like prayers in the Surau. We cannot concentrate with the sounds coming from the temple,” stated Zurit.

When asked whether members of the protest were affiliated with any organisations or movements, Ibrahim claimed that the people present today were members of PAS, PKR as well as Umno who are “united in the name of Islam and the Malay spirit.”

The state government was also accused of lying to the people of Selangor.

The Chairman of the Residents Committee, Mahyuddin Manaf excitedly proclaimed that the committee would uncover “the lies” and find proof of the state’s misconduct.

“Khalid Ibrahim wears a mask of a Muslim, but in truth he is a liberal. PAS stands to lose out as a result. I voted for PAS as well as Khalid in the past elections,” Mahyuddin claimed.

The issue first cropped up when the Selangor government proposed that the Sri Mariamman temple be relocated from Section 19 to Section 23.

And my two cents:
Really really makes me don't want to be Malaysian anymore. Nak pergi main jauh-jauh already. Why fight it lah when they tell us everyday we're not "real" Malaysians? Its been one year plus (since last election) of rejection and dejection lor.

Apa 1Malaysia. Look at what people do to tell you forcefully there is no 1Malaysia. How to go on living as citizen, born and raised in a country you have to bow and kowtow to people and prove all the time you are loyal, super-tolerant and have blind faith that one day it will be ok? How many still want to fight the tide, when the rest thinking "suan le, let's just earn money and live nondescriptly". more

Wanna go to Singapore and be like Xiaxue already. At least I already got the ang moh bf part...now I need to mental myself to stop thinking I'm Malaysian. And enough money for blow...sorry, nosejob, and a lot a lot of clothes and make up, Photoshop skill and a semi-celebrity status.

But aior...tak boleh weh. :( Saya suka nasi lemak too much.

:(

Ok. Official: I confess I've been reading Xiaxue's blog the entire evening, and this afternoon. And in some ways, I'm slightly envious.

She's blonde, she Photoshops herself, she had a nosejob and she owns a Princess Room painted in pink. She's probably got 10x what I have in my wardrobe (and spends about as much), she blings her phone, camera and laptop in pink diamantes. My point is, frivolousness aside, I want a bit of her life.

Her blogs are light-hearted and funny, and Joanna writes in the same way: controversial, snarky, bitchy...in other words, I like. I cannot hide it anymore. Beneath all these seriousness, there's a deeply embedded blonde in me. Its screaming a bit lately to be let out.

Along with that, I don't know what kind of instinct is this that's kicking in (not the maternal one, thank God), but I want my own flat/house, cute dog(s), and an awesome kitchen with the works. I want to cook and decorate, and fill up my home with the necessities: TV, furniture, candles, hangings...you get the picture. Homing instincts?

Problem is, I see me doing it here in England. Or in Singapore. I'm used to having an oven. I like having easy access to cheap pasta and pasatta. I've gotten less and less stubborn about being Malaysian, and being out here made it easier to go incognito, and less loyal.

Have I sold out?!

o_O"

Oh dear.

Tulan leh

But one thing lah:
I declare from now onwards I'll write a bit more Malaysian-style (what to do, who ask me to be born a Malaysian? Blame the stork for dropping me off in KL), and I'll try to be more light-hearted. This way, I have more entertaining things to write about, right?

And when my dissertation finishes (ha, I say it like as though it will write itself), I will blog more and give more time here.

And to kick-off my new resolution, I am going to (er...what's that word again...er) gush (GUSH!) over my ABC soup.

Few nights ago, I bought a £5.42 whole chicken (minus head) and chopped it roughly the way mummy taught me, and made a chicken curry out of it.

While I was assaulting and deskinning that poor chicken, the boy surfed onto his Facebook and wrote this:
Tim Jones is watching his girlfriend full on knife assault a chicken then tear it apart with her bare hands. She's a very special lady :)

Cute la that boy. So I was left with the carcass and neck, and a bit more bones from chicken thighs in the freezer. So last night, at roughly 4.50am when dawn was breaking, I envisaged beautiful ABC soup.

But wait. Got potato, got carrot. No onion leh! How?
Its ok. Nick one of Mr Fish's.

FYI Mr Fish lives in Room D, and is a pretty good looking ang moh. After a bit of stalking on FB, found him on Leeds network. Draw your own conclusions lah. But he has the weirdest diet ever. Every morning he dices onion, carrots and celery, saute them in extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper, and boils brown rice/whole wheat pasta/mullet grain, and mix all of that with two cans of Tesco sardine/mackerel in brine. Then he leaves fish and leftovers in the sink for everyone else to pick up, and expects the hobs to clean itself automatically. He also doesn't know the concept of "emptying the trash".

So with my ABC soup floatng in mind, I try to sleep. Try, try, try.
Cannot.
6am already. Very light outside.
Pop one Paracetemol.
5...10...minutes later...*drools and snores*
God-sent.

So with chicken bones, carrots, potato and stolen-onion, and some salt, pepper and 2 tablespoons of Shao Hsing wine, I have my ABC soup. Oh my. I forgot how hearty and good soups like this taste, just like the way my mom made it in the slow cooker (ok, the wine was my idea, and I have no slow cooker).

I am satisfied.

Until I saw that cow up there.

I shall abstain from cow for some time now.

Ok, back to dissertation!

Personal letter for me

It seems too much of a coincidence to let go...in the span of a single day, I've read my bestie's blog and spoken to another of my bestie, and they both mentioned one thing: Privacy.

It's true isn't it?

To quote Amelia -

The purpose of a blog is to allow a space for expression. A space for random ideas, deep thoughts, retrospection and also sudden mind spasms.

And here I am, an adult, still writing in my blog, the same one I've started when I was 15. But circumstances has changed. Back then I poured every feelings I had into my blog. Every angsty thought, every joy, every pain, every celebration and every grief. These days I hardly found anything worthy of writing. My daily life settled into a humdrum routine that hardly required any thinking or retrospection. I wonder how did every event filled me with wonder, and how they were jot-worthy, and these days I let things pass by without second thoughts. Is it part of growing up, of being an adult?

I've never felt more adult before. Perhaps it's overdue, now that I'm 23. What I say and do matter more. I'm responsible and accountable for every word and every action. I can no longer use "being young" as my crutch, because I'm no longer so young anymore, am I?

My thoughts are no longer private and I cannot write as freely as I would like to. Every entry that served as a emotional release for me had to be written in some sort of cryptic way, so I can express myself without revealing too much. It seems to me that blogging, has somehow lost its purpose.

Ah, how I wish I can still write like that. Yes, I'm lifting off my best friend's blog. Her thoughts mirrored what I feel, except she's expressed it beautifully. I've learnt many a lesson about being too free with my writing, and I can remember the first incident where my college-mates printed the blog entry I wrote the previous day, and it ended up with many tears and feelings of betrayal. I learnt the price of being too free with my tongue in university, it was a heavy price to pay. I trusted the wrong people, my spirit was broken for a long while. To this day, it felt like I'm still running away from that period of my life, that miserable six months I existed instead of lived, and it was a bitter life lesson I will bring to my grave. So, I finally learn to self-censor, to keep thoughts about people out of my blog, and to stick to insipid, general things in life that will not offend anyone. Because I cannot pretend to be a nice person who thought kindly of everyone. No, I'm one of those people who are suspicious and negative about things, the kind of person who subscribe to "guilty until proven innocent" mindset, and although I'm much better now, I'm painfully aware that its the way I perceive people, and its something I've not been able to change. So, eventually, I've even stopped writing regularly. So that begs two questions:

1. Is it worth keeping a blog when I cannot even say freely what I feel about anything and everything?
2. Are our lives so dependent on those nearest and dearest to us?

I told my other friend, what's the use of writing now that I've lost my audience with my blog being on hiatus for over 8 months? She, whom I will not name, told me perhaps its for the better cause, because I have the privacy to write and not have persons concerned reading and judging me for it. She started a private blog for that exact same reason: she wanted to write from her heart and not get into trouble for it.

(I've even read through and edited this entry, so that it doesn't appear a certain way, to speak of the devil)

So why do we choose to express ourselves so publicly, and yet lament the lost of privacy? I bet nobody from a mere generation ago (think: your parents) would imagine that just about anyone could be famous through youtube, and through their writings and photos (think: Karen Cheng and Kenny Sia), that you could text or email your local politician, and critisize your prime minister on his blog. We are a generation hungry for attention, and we are a generation who record our lives publicly. No details are too sacred and personal these days. People record their relationships, pregnancy, dying and living for all and sundry.

So do I.

But self-censorship, I certainly practice. When I write, I'm conscious of the risk of having my friends, classmates, professors and my mom bumping into my blog.

And the last thing I want to do is to hurt them, their reputation, and in consequence, mine. Expressing myself may be important, but -and I cannot believe I'm saying this- the people I care about, people I love, are even more so. Certain things should be kept private and personal, and I see why, I see it now. Another part of me is still trying to reawaken the part of me that feels life so urgently. Been dormant for a while, and I want to be able to describe life in all its vividness without resorting to talking about people. I want to record life as I see it.

Like I said, I've never felt more adult in my life. I'm responsible for myself, and I'm far, far away from those I grew up with, and from mom and dad. I worry. I worry about where I'm living next, whether I can get any jobs, what sort of jobs I can try for, and where I'll be this time next year. I worry about money, about failing my parents and myself, and somehow, the feeling of inadequacy is ceaseless. Sometimes it felt like I'm only maintaining a facade, that there's still a child in me wanting to burst out and be careless and irresponsible. But those days were long gone. My peers had gone on to be engaged, get married, made babies. Holding jobs, paying their mortgages and having weekend getaways in nearby cities. I'm lucky to have been given a year's grace, but even that is ticking away.

I'm not angry anymore. I'm not sad anymore.

But I'm still lost.

Who am I? Who am I?

Can I still afford to be lost?

Quick hi

Really I've got nothing to say at the moment, its quarter past midnight (ha-ha I've even started using the English time system - quarter past, quarter to, half past) on a Monday evening and I really SHOULD BE WORKING.

Instead, I got suckered into reading no other than Karen Cheng's blog..yes the woman of "Doing the Karen Cheng" fame. I guess what I really want is to get back into the groove of writing (semi)regularly, especially blogging.

Once in a while, I examine the reason for the lack of writing, and connected it to Facebook and the wonders of photo uploading. So instead of words, I (and thousands of others) went the lazy way and uploaded photos that suffice in making up for the words lost.

But that needs to complement the writing, not replacing it, as I realise how rusty I am with this, I've really lost the knack of writing, of looking for necessary vocabulary to express myself, especially because I'm not reading as often anymore, either. Perhaps being in THE English-speaking country abetted the loss of words ever-so-slightly...but meh. Who am I kidding?

So...here's the story. I'm currently still staying in Central Quay, the student flats I've stayed in since I arrived. Except in a different flat in a different block, and only til the end of this month. Early next month, I move.

To The Boomerang, the building that was an ex-pub.

View Larger Map

Not for long, I hope. I must confess a certain dislike to the area the building's in (Netherthorpe...which is *rough*), and how thin the walls are (noise travel TOO well in that place), and how we all have a single bed (been spoiled rotten with having a double bed), and also the fact that I'm sharing with even MORE people than I ever had. Six of us will be sharing a flat, and the only saving grace is that we're all friends, and there's three toilets and two showers in there. But I'll miss having my own self-contained bathroom where I can spend a lot of time and leave whatever I want in there while I mind my business. And then...I don't know what. I've been house-hunting pretty diligently the last couple of weeks (with a lot of help) and quickly realise that houses are easy to find, within the budget range...housemates are not. I've been offered a room with a double bed for pretty damn cheap rents near Bramall Lane (home to Sheffield United team), but has yet to see the place. Hopefully things will work out; people living there are nice. And I like nice people. And I strive to be nice.

So that's my housing situation.

I really hesitate to air the rest of my plans only because I haven't had any idea what I'll do with myself a few months down the road. Been hitting a worrying crisis lately, of not knowing what to do. I have enough money to live and find work for the next few months, but money will run out, and economy's grim and lately I've felt homesick enough to think maybe it's not bad at all that I return to Malaysia, and then search for work in Singapore. It's just easier. I'd move home. And live with mom. Except...can I still...? After living out for a year, do I want to move back? Being out here for almost a year now (in fact I've lived out for 11 months now!) made me realise I've been ready for such a long time to be on my own. Except I've been a lucky turd and got head start with money. But I know one day the tap will dry up and it'll be up to me to turn my own tap on. And of course, that's my main worry these days.

The other one is, I've got less than a month now to write my dissertation, and I'm nowhere at all, AT ALL, near done. I can say confidently I've got a couple chapters' draft, but that's it. Its a big sprawling mess, and I'm not feeling the panic yet, the rush and the need to get things going. It worries me, and cripples me. Like right now, it's past midnight, and I've stayed in all day, NOT working. I guess this is the time I send a silent prayer to the stars for strength and grace. And epiphany.

One more thing I want to mention is, I'm really trying hard to balance things. I've been seeing Tim a lot (every day of last week!) and while I enjoy every moment, I need to remind myself that it'll not be permanent, and I need to remember I'm my own person, and that I should not neglect my friends. Its easy to do so, using dissertation as my excuse, but I should know better. I've also been avoiding going up to Boomerang, only cos I can't be arsed to make the trek halfway up the hill. I also don't want to fall into the trap of being obsessed with my boyfriend - "Tim this, Tim that...Tim and I blah blah blah", especially with a couple of girls on my Facebook seeming so guilty of it that it makes me fascinated sick reading their blogs and following their walls. But it can be easy to do so, huh? But I will not let my life revolve around my boyfriend, I will grow my balls and worship gumption.

I will not resist this though:

Me in his jacket, hee.

Though, this I will say: I'm not sure what will happen in future. Of course I'm scared. It seems like no-future-no-hope kind of thing, hinges on where I'll be in a few months' time, and in the longer term, where he'll be when he finishes uni. I can feel it, feel myself feeling more for him with time. Its unsettling to say, yeah I've got a boyfriend. I'm 23 and its the first time in my life I can, if I want to, point to a guy and yell "That's my boyfriend!". Feels surreal. And still feels like its just a dream and I'll snap out of it soon. This insecurity I have about guys not sticking around, its really unnatural, is it not? A product of one unsuccessful long-distance short-lived semi-relationship, and a series of sad sordid tales. I know I've got mental strength, so its up to me to snap out of it. To know that decent guys with good hearts exist and I've met one. He's so endearing and cute and funny, and we're good together. I hope karma doesn't (see I'm stuck for the word I want right now.) bite back (that's it!) after the shit I've done though. Let bygones be bygones. Water under the bridge. I've straightened up good now!

We've also been doing a bit (ok, a lot!) of cooking lately, and I'll let the photos do the talking:


Bolognese sauce and pasta


Strawberries and whipped cream - we whipped it by hand ourselves! Utterly sinful.


Lasagne (he made this with *some* help from me!)


Stuffed peppers

You get the picture! Yum. I really do enjoy cooking when I have people to share my food with, though I must say its a costly and time-consuming hobby considering the way I live off 10-minute prep time meals for ages, and not bother with something as elaborate as a cottage pie or lasagne or my mom's boiled pork belly that takes like an hour to cook.


But...I gotta say, it's worth it. Yum.

Next, I wanna try baking muffins or banana loaf. Never meddled with any sort of bakery or pastry stuff before, time to try! Yes, I am semi-Kitchen Goddess! Step aside Nigella!

Anyway, I should really do some dissertation work. Really really should.

Things to do, and to bring back...and forth

1. This is my to-do before I leave:
-Find accommodation for after 19th Sept DONE
-Change my HSBC account to something that doesn't bloody charge me £8 a month DONE
-Get new young persons' railway card (one month in advance)DONE
-Collect train tickets London-Sheffield from Sheffield Station DONE
-Change my address details to the new(as yet to be)found place for Vodafone, University, HSBC
-Sort out London trip before I leave DONE
-Where to kip for the night when I return DONE
-Get back deposit from Unite and Vodafone DONE
-Make appointment with UHS DONE
-Sell textbooks DONE

2. This is a (GROWING) list of things I'm shipping back to good old England in preparation for winter:

-Milo DONE
-Konnyaku jelly DONE
-Ipoh White Coffee (for the Boy)DONE
-Chinese Tea
-Curry Paste DONE
-Chinese mushrooms DONE
-Ikan bilis DONE
-Sago DONE
-Root beer DONE
-Dried mango DONE
-Sakema DONE
-Lantern DONE
-Mooncake
-Durian flavoured things (dodol?)
-Contact lens
-Contact lens solution DONE
-Nivea Lipbalm DONE
-Toothbrush (Oral B) DONE
-Laptop fan cooler
-External hard drive
-Dehumidifier

3. And THIS is a reminder of things to check before I go home:
-Undies from Marks & Spencer for Chenn DONE
-Pet advice for the dogs
-Jewellery cleaner for mom
-Shortbread DONE
-LUSH DONE

...

I'm back! And alive!

Ayup! That's right! Its me and I'm back after missing for almost 10 months. I've been jotting notes on Facebook, being such an addict and on there constantly...

But I do remember that I have a blog, somewhere in the dusty shelf of the back of my mind. And I remember how its accompanied me, first from blog-city, and now blogspot or blogger, through my teen years, as a sounding board, memory board and ranting board.

You'll have noticed a few changes: An addition at the top of my blog. Two, actually! =D

Adsense...whatever to bring in some money.

And a little image to remind me (the non-sappy type) that I have, yes, finally, maybe, found myself a *drum roll* boyfriend! I'm as surprised and shocked as the next person. The perpetual single in me snort derisively and thought, "tis NOT possible!" But it seemed like he's going to stay for a while.

*Clap clap clap*

Can't believe the sort of changes I've let go without noting down. My HTML skills definitely gone rusty, I forgot how to link, and post pictures. But all will be rectified as of...right now!

So here's a pic. Or two...



Prerequisite details: The Boy is Tim (...uh, yes, no confusion, apparently I have an affinity to the name), 25, Yorkshire lad, university-going arty-type and absolutely sweet and funny and sharp and been really really good to and for me.

What did I do to deserve such a great guy?

In all honesty, I had my doubts, and fears...I've expected him to wake up everyday and thought it was all a big mistake and walk away...but I guess the fears were bordering on unreasonable paranoia, and I am learning to trust and believe that the situation is permanent. I've always thought of falling for someone as fireworks and great big fluttering heartbeats and butterflies in stomach...but I guess I'm starting to learn that maybe, just maybe this is the other kind, the kind you nurture and build together, the kind that inspired the Love Comes Softly kind of stories. Right now we're in the process of building memories together, and so far? So good.

*Fingers crossed*



Tee hee.

Meanwhile...I have a lot on my plate, and definitely is not doing it at the moment, mainly being my dissertation. Am also house-searching, and probably job-seeking, going home in October for a month, and planning, wondering, thinking.

Been a bit stressed to the point of having regular nightmares...rare for me.

But yes, all those and more when I've got time to write them down.

Meanwhile, a look of Sheffield in Summer

Okay, I just want to stick this somewhere...

The lack of plans

Funny it seems how I've forgotten to jot down memories these days...or rather, the past year or so, considering I've faithfully done it for the best part of the last 10 years.

Has it really been a decade already since I've reached teenagehood, went through mid-teen life crisis and is now slowly awakening to the fact that I am indeed an adult, not daddy's little girl anymore?

"You need a plan." So Tim said.

But...That's how I've been operating for a long, long while now. Planless. Without plans. Day-to-day. Some days it nags at me; I know its not the best of plans. I don't know why I've placed blockers on my brain, stopped myself from looking to the future, planning for tomorrow. I definitely have a fear of commitment, it was certainly terrible how long it took me to click on that 'Buy now' button for my flight home. I hesitate to go left, right, up, down...I guess if there's an analogy, its that there's many doors (still) opened and I don't know which ones to slam shut.

Should I be worried I don't have a Plan? What IS my Life Plan anyway? I don't remember anymore. Had there been one to start with? Who would've known I'll end up where I am today, not that 'today' is static because tomorrow I'll be somewhere else?

The wanderlust in me tamed and waned slightly, but the thirst for adventure has not been quelled, not in the slightest. Am feeling a bit restless, like I need to go on life's another chapter, but I need to be patient, to wait, to finish this task before I can hop over the other side. All I know is, I'm not ready to go home, not yet, not by long shot.

I came out here to find answers, and so far, made more questions. I've learnt a lot through trial and error, burnt my own fingers more than once, and I hope not only am I a better person for it, but a tougher, wiser one. I definitely know what I don't honestly care about - Michael Jackson dying, most of world politics, writing another academic paper and the drinking life, but I care too little about things that mattered too - my mom, my family, loved ones, friends, politics at home...But the nightmares I had the last couple of days serve as a wake up call.

Yes. I think I need a Plan. But nothing too specific.

Because I like the thrill, stress and wonder of an unplanned adventure.

Telly at 3am is no good

Ha, now that I finally discovered I've got IPTV, I've spent evenings in watching loads of it, catching up on what I've been missing out. And after a couple hours of repetitive news of Michael Jackson's death (feels surreal innit?) and a call to my mom at 7am her time to inform her (she was less than pleased), I just decided to swap channels to BBC1...and watched something that's fluffy but pretty close to my heart.

It was Claire Richards from Steps and her journey into weight loss and wedding day. She went from size 18 to 10 within 8 months, and I cried watching her. There were scenes of her trying on clothes from her fat days, and the elation, disbelief and disgust of her former self. The before and after photos. the symbolic getting rid of her fat clothes. The difficulty of losing that last bit of stubborn pudge.

Yeah, I've been there. But what struck me was, that inadequacy for being big (contradictory, no?), the questioning other girls on self-image and feelings about certain things, and the insecurity...it never really goes does it. It comes back like a phantom, haunting you and crippling you at vital moments. At one point she said, she'll never ever want to go through all that again. I nodded, and cried. It wasn't easy, I'd never want to go through what I did to lose that weight, but now I'm slowly watching myself pile up, drop off, pile up, drop off, and its horrible. I know its more to do with my lifestyle and refusal to join a gym or do any sort of hardcore fitness stuff. I don't remember how I did it, I know what motivated me, and sometimes I just need to remind myself I've came a long, long way.

Growing up being big in a society that requires you to be thin to be accepted left such an impression on me, that even being in a nation where I am short and small does not help me kick off the impression that I'm still too fat and too plain. Some days I know I'm not. Others, I fake the confidence. I wonder how many girls live their lives in constant vengeance about their sizes, and constant struggle to accept and love themselves. Maybe more than we'll ever suspect. It reassures me that I'm not alone, not by long measure. I know I've written about this time and again, but goes to show even with time lapsing behind me, nothing changes too much, does it. I'll forever be haunted by my phantoms, and it'll be up to me to banish them, or at least, keep them under control.

In the end, Claire was glowing and absolutely beautiful in her wedding dress. I know I harbour dreams of trying on and having pictures of me in a dress, without a man, because I just want to look beautiful, and like a bride. Pure vanity; it doesn't mean I want to get married though! I guess its true every woman, secretly, dreamt of a dream wedding. Me, I just dream of the perfect dress. And the perfect body.

Love thing

I don't know how much it takes, or how well you need to know a person to jump into relationships.

I know I've always and constantly and annoyingly bemoaned my singlehood status, but I've lived the lifestyle, and lived it well. And I hesitate to leave it behind, because of all the 'opportunities' I feel like I'm missing out on if I stopped. Just do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and meet many, many guys. I'm tired of all the random meets though, as nothing comes out of anything up to this point. I crave stability and a constant supply of cuddles.

And then it all turns topsy-turvy.

But the one burning question is: what does it take, that magic that's needed for me to envision a relationship. I know I've chatted about connection and chemistry with someone lately, and personally felt that I really need to connect, and this is beyond physical attraction, for me to be really attracted to someone. Someone I can trade not only anecdotes and mini-amusing-stories of my life, but also share deep, profound, meaningful conversations with. Someone I felt like there'll be enough there to sustain a huge commitment with. Basically someone I can talk about my fears, insecurities, reasons and thoughts about openly, and him me. Stories of my past and what made me, me. Part of it is my fault; I've stopped being open and honest and direct. I wish I know how to open the lines of communication.

Right now I am so torn.

I want to do the right thing. To be fair. I know I've always rushed things in the past, and knowing better now, I want to be more aware and have no hurt parties. I've been told I'd be a fool for not grabbing an opportunity (and a decent bloke). I'm just overthinking it and scared. I've gotten hurt. Faith in men isn't exactly very high. Met complete twats. And all that. So I hesitate to trust and just go with things.

Yeah I'm a crazy, crazy girl (Marcia's words).

This is worth a note

Yep, this is really note-worthy.

I spent the better part of last evening laughing in amusement and irony.
We went on a night out to Crystal, and when all my friends had left, and it was only me and Xin, a guy from my Democratization class left...

Not only did I not manage to pull anyone (not that I was on the pull)...
...But HE pulled two decent looking male bitches.

It's set in stone.

I am going to be single forever.

In addition...

I am Puiyee, fag hag.
At your service.

Doodle-da-tum

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Banana shortbread

(A)
250g sugar
130g margarine (I used butter)
1 tsp sodium bicarbonate
1/2 tsp salt

(B)
2 eggs

(C)
300g banana, mashed

(D)
300g plain flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
80ml milk

(E)
100g chopped walnuts

Cream (A) till light and fluffy. Add (B) and cream till smooth. Add (C), mix till well blended. Mix (D) till well combined. Add (E) and mix till well incorporated.

Pour mixture into a greased and lined loaf tin (L20cm X W10cm X H8.5cm). This quantity and mixture makes 2 loaves. To make the bread look extra attractive, sprinkle some chopped walnuts on top. Bake at 180C for 45 minutes.

Thoughts bouncing in my head

I wish I can press a reset button, erase certain things I've seen and done.
I wish I hadn't fucked up.
I wish I can relearn rights and wrongs.
I wish I live in more blacks and whites, and not slink from one shade of gray to another and another.
I wish I made more prudent choices, and not live to regret them.
I wish I am not tormented by all this and knowing that I've done it to myself single-handedly.
I wish I knew where to go from here.
I wish I can have the faith, for just a moment, that things will sort themselves out.
I wish I can finally stop fighting, and start accepting.
I wish I can release these personal demons haunting me.
I wish for wisdom, patience and faith.
I wish I can still believe, hope and dream.
It's not too late...
Nor is it impossible.
I'd like to believe so.

Disclaimer: I'm okay. I really am. Just middle of the night, stressed out. Lesson is, if I expect a lot from myself, I better start performing. And find the bloody motivation to do so instead of a million other whimsical distractions.
*Smacks self*

Singletini

Don't mind the title....it's just a nice catchphrase for us singles out there.

And don't get me wrong. I do enjoy being single. I go through phases of extreme loneliness and depression about not having anyone, but most of the time, especially when I'm out, I like being the roving single. I like being able to flirt with whoever I wanted, making those eye contact and thinking, 'yes, score!' when he looks over, and going wherever I wanted whenever I pleased, without needing to be accountable to anyone. Just pack up and leave, and stay with whoever I liked.

But I'm also tired of meeting new people all the time, trying to suss them out...trying to see if the jigsaw puzzle fits, and the disappointment upon disappointment...and then there's the meeting all the wrong guys and getting the wrong attention. And when you stand at traffic lights, or anywhere with a crowd, you look at the couples and wistfully wish for some affection, too. But then the crowd moves, and life goes on. And then I'm a little confused by my mom's questioning, it feels like she's putting the pressure a little for me to find someone. I wish I can explain, it's really not that easy. It takes one hell of a guy to be able to take me for me, and vice versa. All this time I've never talked about guys with her, and I'm unwilling to start now. It'll happen when it happens, that's what I've concluded.

Am a little bitter and cynical about guys, but lately that's turned around a little, and maybe, just maybe there are decent guys left yet in this country, but still. I get unsure, don't know if I want this, and it's been such a long time since I've felt all those good feelings, falling for someone, and here I stand, not wanting to go there again, not wanting to get hurt again. I've not allowed myself to trust or like a person for so long, don't know if I'm capable of it again.

I like the status quo. Singlehood.

But I also want to be able to get some affection and someone I can trust and talk to. Share the good, the bad and the ugly. The ups and downs. The funny and the profound. The holding hands, looking across the room and seeing him there...I miss all that. And I've always enjoyed the chase. And being chased. Which is contradictory to what I wanted to come across as - tough, independent, capable. Yeah, yeah, I'm a bag of contradictions.

I don't know what I want.

Just someone to sweep me off my feet.

Meanwhile, I think I just want a good proper snog.

Yeah don't mind me, this is a pointless rant.

This is why...

You've described a condition called "Alcohol Flush Reaction". This condition is due to an inactive enzyme which is normally responsible for the breakdown of acetaldehyde, a by product of the metabolism of alcohol. Acetaldehyde is a toxin from alcohol. Because the body is unable to break it down, the accumulation of the poison in the blood stream causes flushing (redness in face and chest). This condition (inactive enzyme) is said to be more prevalent amongst the Asian community and is attributed to their lower levels of alcoholism; due to the fact that the reaction prompts them to stop the abuse of alcohol by nonconsumption of alcohol.

Click here

Alcohol flush reaction (Asian Flush, Asian Glow, Red Cheeks, Oriental Flush, Big Blush) is a condition in which the body cannot break down ingested alcohol completely, due to a missense polymorphism that encodes the enzyme, acetaldehyde dehydrogenase (ALDH2) [1], normally responsible for breaking down acetaldehyde, a product of the metabolism of alcohol.[2] Flushing, or blushing, is associated with the erythema (reddening caused by dilation of capillaries) of the face, neck, shoulder, and in some cases, the entire body after consumption of alcohol.

Wikipedia article

Okay, this is why I don't usually drink...and the answer is not in 'building up' tolerance, it's not going to happen!