Isn't it weird how the smallest most insignificant things seem to bring about the biggest change in us? How the most routine mundane activity can somehow excite the deepest, even life changing experiences. Take for example a friend of mind who decided on her career while sitting on the can. (I said friend). But no I'm not going to ponder the ways in which toilet routine can be life-defining.
Only a few minutes ago, I was browsing through the friendster photos of an old friend of mine (a different one) now studying in New Zealand. And something struck a chord within me. Perhaps it was that she seemed to be so in control of herself and her surroundings. Perhaps it was the amazing scenery around her. Perhaps it was the hot dude with his arms around her. Perhaps it was petty jealousy that she was surrounded by people not in our former clique. Perhaps it was that she was out there in the world with a purpose, a goal, while I sit hunched over a computer oohing and aahing at her pictures.
She's grown and blossomed into an adult and a woman since the last time I saw her while managing to retain her identity as I know it. I seem not to have matured in the least having left secondary school. And yet do I feel my fingers grapple at the last shards of my original self.
A powerful urge for change has just come over me. No longer do routine classes and random pops into the malls sit uppermost in my thoughts. With all that she has seen and done in the past year, I seem not even to have left school. Or am I not worthy of doing so? I hide still behind my mother's apron strings and she ventures solely to explore the boundaries of the world. And finds herself at home in strange places, while I at home pine for familiar faces.
Oh for the sweet simple life of yesteryear. It's heart wrenching to have to watch people in your past change and morphe and take flight to newer heights. But it is worse when you are chained to the ground, struggling to shed the worn skin of the past.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Saturday, March 18, 2006
What A Week!!
WOW! It's been some week. What happened to bring on this transgression to an actual blog? I'll tell you...
Thursday
Results for the first lot of exams came out. It was initially given that the results would be released on Friday. However, on Wednesday notices appeared all over the building bearing the message that made my heart leap into my throat.
So, as soon as we (the nerdy physics lot) could get off classes (we bugged Mr. Aziz to let us out early) we made a beeline for the main block. Now, the corridor in the main building is long, but this time it seemed as long as the yellow brick road must have been to Dorothy(she doesn't have a last name, does she?)
So heart pounding a hundred times a second and fingers clenched so tight my fingernails were digging into my palms, I directed shaky steps towards the hall that held those sacred pieces of paper. Receiving that skimpy little blue piece of paper that seemed to hold my life, hand shaking, turning it over, skimming the minute print, it seemed someone had turned down the volume. Several more heart wrenching moments passed as I flipped over the paper trying to determine if I'd passed, how many As I'd received. Several double checks later, only then did I dare admit I'd achieved the impossible-scored straight As! And an A in English Literature too, no minor feat in my case.
Now, here's where I get persnickity. When the kiasu, over-achieving, Malaysian schooled student in me undoubtebly tries to stick her head out. Knowing full well I would be well and truly sat on if I so much as dared to mention this in public, this blog is my only safe medium of expression. The issue that would get me a bashing? Sure I scored straight As, so what? So many people scored full marks, I have one of the lowest scores I know for Literature. Alright, alright, stop groaning, it was just something I had to get off my chest.
Oh yes, I might also have a career in law after all. I am delighted about this- I scored 81.5% in my law test. Can't possibly be something to base your future on but its a start, I hope.
Wow, all that was just about thursday.
Friday
Went to Mid Valley with Sanz, Wen Ni, Dimple, Pui Sun and Midhfa. Haha, what fun! First we saw the world's awfulest movie to date- The New World. And that's including bloody Steve Martin's Pink Panther. I really do not want to go into detail so we'll leave it at that, shall we? Then Wen n I ditched the others so we could go shopping..MNG, Zara, Topshop, Dorothy Perkins..Oooh, I finally bought the top I've been raving about. Yay!
And we took the bus and LRT home. A first for me...I've not taken the bus in years. No, NO, NO!! That does not make me a spoilt brat! *pouts*
Back home I found out my sis and mom had been out shopping too. No fair! But at least my sister was nice enough to buy me a beret, looks pretty good on me too, if I do say so myself.
Saturday
Mum took me out shopping today, a treat for my surprising, nay, cardiac arrest inducing results. Both my parents were stunned when I told them the news, more so at my A in Literature since I've been bemoaning the subject incessantly. I've come to realise that I love knitwear. Romp has some really nice stuff, though I never paid much attention to it before. Of course, mummy will always remain mummy, unendingly trying to inject some frugality into her hopeless daughter. But she did ease up enough to buy me the most gorgeous sweater from Dorothy Perkins. Its sooo soft and snugly and I wore it to college and everyone said it looked nice. Oh happy day!! Haha, earth to shaku, come down shaku. OK, I'm going to put an end to these "confessions of a shopaholic" right now. Till the next SA (Shopaholics Anonymous) meeting...ciao!
Thursday
Results for the first lot of exams came out. It was initially given that the results would be released on Friday. However, on Wednesday notices appeared all over the building bearing the message that made my heart leap into my throat.
So, as soon as we (the nerdy physics lot) could get off classes (we bugged Mr. Aziz to let us out early) we made a beeline for the main block. Now, the corridor in the main building is long, but this time it seemed as long as the yellow brick road must have been to Dorothy(she doesn't have a last name, does she?)
So heart pounding a hundred times a second and fingers clenched so tight my fingernails were digging into my palms, I directed shaky steps towards the hall that held those sacred pieces of paper. Receiving that skimpy little blue piece of paper that seemed to hold my life, hand shaking, turning it over, skimming the minute print, it seemed someone had turned down the volume. Several more heart wrenching moments passed as I flipped over the paper trying to determine if I'd passed, how many As I'd received. Several double checks later, only then did I dare admit I'd achieved the impossible-scored straight As! And an A in English Literature too, no minor feat in my case.
Now, here's where I get persnickity. When the kiasu, over-achieving, Malaysian schooled student in me undoubtebly tries to stick her head out. Knowing full well I would be well and truly sat on if I so much as dared to mention this in public, this blog is my only safe medium of expression. The issue that would get me a bashing? Sure I scored straight As, so what? So many people scored full marks, I have one of the lowest scores I know for Literature. Alright, alright, stop groaning, it was just something I had to get off my chest.
Oh yes, I might also have a career in law after all. I am delighted about this- I scored 81.5% in my law test. Can't possibly be something to base your future on but its a start, I hope.
Wow, all that was just about thursday.
Friday
Went to Mid Valley with Sanz, Wen Ni, Dimple, Pui Sun and Midhfa. Haha, what fun! First we saw the world's awfulest movie to date- The New World. And that's including bloody Steve Martin's Pink Panther. I really do not want to go into detail so we'll leave it at that, shall we? Then Wen n I ditched the others so we could go shopping..MNG, Zara, Topshop, Dorothy Perkins..Oooh, I finally bought the top I've been raving about. Yay!
And we took the bus and LRT home. A first for me...I've not taken the bus in years. No, NO, NO!! That does not make me a spoilt brat! *pouts*
Back home I found out my sis and mom had been out shopping too. No fair! But at least my sister was nice enough to buy me a beret, looks pretty good on me too, if I do say so myself.
Saturday
Mum took me out shopping today, a treat for my surprising, nay, cardiac arrest inducing results. Both my parents were stunned when I told them the news, more so at my A in Literature since I've been bemoaning the subject incessantly. I've come to realise that I love knitwear. Romp has some really nice stuff, though I never paid much attention to it before. Of course, mummy will always remain mummy, unendingly trying to inject some frugality into her hopeless daughter. But she did ease up enough to buy me the most gorgeous sweater from Dorothy Perkins. Its sooo soft and snugly and I wore it to college and everyone said it looked nice. Oh happy day!! Haha, earth to shaku, come down shaku. OK, I'm going to put an end to these "confessions of a shopaholic" right now. Till the next SA (Shopaholics Anonymous) meeting...ciao!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
To My Arms Faustus!
Is a thirst for all the knowledge in the world so alien to the human race that a man striving to achieve this ideal be severed from the lap of society? Is it really so far-fetched that a mere mortal be capable of such abundance in wisdom? Is it not possible, plausible, even acceptable, that one yearn to dry this bottomless well that scholars through the ages have added to one drop at a time? Why must it be that one choose the straight and narrow down which they will plod, and hence live in ignorance of rolling hills just beyond their sight?
No, I will not be a pack-horse, a mule with blinders strapped to my head. With bowed head and cupped hands will I sit in eternity by this well. And for all my life long savour each sip like the sweetest treat, while all the while adding to it, that the more I drink the deeper it becomes. And with Death's timely knock, will I drown in the swirls of centuries' scholarly thought.
No, I will not be a pack-horse, a mule with blinders strapped to my head. With bowed head and cupped hands will I sit in eternity by this well. And for all my life long savour each sip like the sweetest treat, while all the while adding to it, that the more I drink the deeper it becomes. And with Death's timely knock, will I drown in the swirls of centuries' scholarly thought.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Writer's Block
My pen is poised upon a crisp white sheet of paper. My hand but quivers slightly, and the droplet of ink that has gathered at the nib is the only thing that now adorns a canvas that in the hands of one more worthy would extole joys and sorrows man never thought to feel. How comes it that a brain teeming with the life of ideas and ideals, buzzing with the knowledge imparted by heightened senses, and aching with the swell of each new fruit that finds no route through which to delight at every bite, how comes it that a brain so fueled hath not the power to bend a limb to its will? How now to harvest these grains that mine own fingers know not how to reap? Were it possible that my hand cease this disobedience, and pluck and store the hoard for future comfort long, or will a sickly sweet stench pervade the air but not for the last?
Thursday, March 02, 2006
V is for...?
Every other single gal out there is probably letting out sighs of relief as the Valentine's day hype starts dying down. There's nothing like Valentine's day to permeate the steeliest heart with feelings of loneliness and unworthiness. Blah, blah, blah. I know full well that if I were attached, ie. not single next year, I would be basking in this sickly sweet, over commercialised, confetti-raining-down-on-me holiday just as much as the next lovelorn teen.
But this year was different, and not altogether bad. OK, I take that back, it was great. I spent the evening with a bunch of single friends and their friends. A very romantic, home-cooked meal, by candle light, albeit minus the boyfriend. Scrumptious! And then, to top off the incredibly romantic evening, we sat down to wach the ULTIMATE love story.
Truth be told, I was rather wary about this. I would probably have opted for typical American slapstick to fight the Valentine's day mood pervading the air, but the pure and simple truth is The Notebook is a wonderful movie. By the end of it, all the girls present were bawling their eyes out into the cushions. Hold up! Rewind! Everyone, that is, except yours truly. Mine were probably the driest eyes in the room, yes including the boys'. Which begs the question,"What is wrong with me?"
Am I really so insensitive as to have absolutely no emotional connection with the characters of the movie? For as far back as I can remember the only movie during which I have cried is ET. Hmm, perhaps I'm just not a sensitive person by nature. Or perhaps my emotional abilities are far from developed. Whatever that means.
The odd thing is, I do feel a strong bond between myself and the characters of books I read. Perhaps its because I spend a lot more time reading a book than I would watching a movie. Perhaps for me at least building that emotional connection that lets us sympathise with and feel for the characters takes a little longer than it does for others.
What the f*** am I babbling about? What a load of bull****!
Ok, here's what I learned about myself that day. I am a cold, heartless gal, completely unable to express sorrow for anyone else's troubles and finds self-pity to be the quickest way to turn on the waterworks.
But this year was different, and not altogether bad. OK, I take that back, it was great. I spent the evening with a bunch of single friends and their friends. A very romantic, home-cooked meal, by candle light, albeit minus the boyfriend. Scrumptious! And then, to top off the incredibly romantic evening, we sat down to wach the ULTIMATE love story.
Truth be told, I was rather wary about this. I would probably have opted for typical American slapstick to fight the Valentine's day mood pervading the air, but the pure and simple truth is The Notebook is a wonderful movie. By the end of it, all the girls present were bawling their eyes out into the cushions. Hold up! Rewind! Everyone, that is, except yours truly. Mine were probably the driest eyes in the room, yes including the boys'. Which begs the question,"What is wrong with me?"
Am I really so insensitive as to have absolutely no emotional connection with the characters of the movie? For as far back as I can remember the only movie during which I have cried is ET. Hmm, perhaps I'm just not a sensitive person by nature. Or perhaps my emotional abilities are far from developed. Whatever that means.
The odd thing is, I do feel a strong bond between myself and the characters of books I read. Perhaps its because I spend a lot more time reading a book than I would watching a movie. Perhaps for me at least building that emotional connection that lets us sympathise with and feel for the characters takes a little longer than it does for others.
What the f*** am I babbling about? What a load of bull****!
Ok, here's what I learned about myself that day. I am a cold, heartless gal, completely unable to express sorrow for anyone else's troubles and finds self-pity to be the quickest way to turn on the waterworks.
I Want, I Want, I Want
The title of this blog, now that I've typed it out, sounds like the whine of a five-year-old you might hear in a supermarket or toy store. But no, the one doing the whining today was good ole yours truly. Pouty faced, drooping shoulders and everything. Oh ok, so i wasn't screaming my lungs out like some of those kids do. I'm digressing here, but you can't help but take pity on their parents, can you? Can't imagine that happening to me if I ever have kids (in the year 2020, mind you). You'd have to take pity on the kids then. But I'm sure I had my own tantrums which my parents, aunts and uncles will be only too happy to describe in vivid detail. The phrase "running away from the past" is a virtual impossibility when you're living within communicating distance from family.
Wait, what was I blogging about? Lolz was that ever a detour. So here's the deal. I went to Sunway Pyramid with my mum and sister. And the issue that brought this fit of childish temper was, if you can believe, a top. But not just any top, mind. It was the most gorgeous, flowy, sheer, flowery thing. And it wasn't black! Now anyone who knows me even remotely well would know that this was a serious relationship indeed. The problem? It cost 139 big ones and my mum being my mum refused point blank to even entertain the idea of getting it, even after admitting it was a nice top. Aaagh!! Oh, to have bottomless, unrestricted allowance!
I seem to be getting rather hung up on clothes shopping. Went to 1u on friday and fell head over heels for more stuff. Then I came back and started bugging my mum to go to 1u so she could get them all for me. Yeah, right. However, when my sister asked to go to Pyramid, there we were. Its NOT fair!! Oh, oh, another tantrum's coming on.
Here's a list of all the stuff I want, and still hope to get. (No, I'm not hinting) :
1. THE top from Riian Jeans
2. A pair of pants from Dorothy Perkins, black
3. Another pair from Zara, also black
4. Gorgeous shades from Aldo
5. Platform flipflops from Roxy
OMG, that list reminds me of the list Becky Bloomwood would make in Shopaholic. HELP!! I'm scared now. Feel like I'm being sucked into a whirlpool of shopaholicism(?), with no escape. Alyssa Tan Wen Ni I hold you solely responsible for this!! And you would probably be delighted at the idea.
Now I think about it, I do have an aunt who has a pending shopping spree birthday gift to give me. Muahaha!! I guess if druggies always manage to come up with enough money for their stash, by hook or by crook, I will too.
A Sliver of Light Brightens An Entire Room
I'm feeling sad today. Don't know why but the blues seem to have caught up with me. I thought blogging might help me vent whatever unknown issues have somehow managed to creep into the dark recesses of my mind, resulting in the state of depression I now find myself in. However, I sat staring at a blank computer screen for a full 10 minutes with nary a thought venturing across the vast empty space that sits between my ears. So, I decided to turn to vast cyberspace to cure my writer's block. It didn't, but it did help clear the dark cloud that has been hovering over my head. For your benefit, and perhaps future use, here's the poem that did the trick. A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a simple poem, so yes, you plebians out there may draw comfort and counsel from it too.
A Psalm Of Life
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;--
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
http://www.online-literature.com/
This is the site I got this poem from. It has a whole array of writers and poets in index. I've added it to my favourites list and strongly recommend avid readers and poetry lovers do so too. I mean they have everything from Shakespeare to Karl Marx (yup, the one and only), Homer to L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables- a must read for every girl, young, old or otherwise). No, I am not being paid to advertise this website, just take my word for it, or go check it out for yourself.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to look for more mind-blowing, stops-you-in-your-tracks pieces of poetry to send the sun peeking out from behind the aforementioned cloud I carry around with me.
A Psalm Of Life
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;--
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
http://www.online-literature.com/
This is the site I got this poem from. It has a whole array of writers and poets in index. I've added it to my favourites list and strongly recommend avid readers and poetry lovers do so too. I mean they have everything from Shakespeare to Karl Marx (yup, the one and only), Homer to L.M. Montgomery (Anne of Green Gables- a must read for every girl, young, old or otherwise). No, I am not being paid to advertise this website, just take my word for it, or go check it out for yourself.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to look for more mind-blowing, stops-you-in-your-tracks pieces of poetry to send the sun peeking out from behind the aforementioned cloud I carry around with me.
Got The Blahs
I've got the back-to-school (well, in this case college) blues. Where the effing hell(pardon the language) did the holidays go to? Seems just yesterday I was stretched out on the sofa, flipping channels and basking in the sheer joy and relief of three weeks of absolute nothingness. And now here I am hunched over the computer, a frown plastered on my face with my heart in the pit of my stomach and nothing to show for almost a month of bliss.
A nagging little voice in my head is saying "But you holidayed in Indonesia". Yeah, yeah. More on that when I'm not in such a butter-couldn't-melt-in-your-mouth mood, okay. And I'll put up some photos once I upload them, if I ever figure out how. If, after all this time, you don't know then here's an update- I'm a muggle when it comes to computers.
Okay, okay. So I didn't have such a bad holiday after all. And I concede I am not dreading returning to college half so much as I used to dread going back to school. I am still a teenager and would like to exercise my constituted right to a little melodrama from time to time.
Whoa!! Praise the Lord! Why, I do believe I have finally managed to blog as most other normal red-blooded people do (oh okay, maybe not quite). By the way, nothing personal, but if you have read my previous blogs you would know by now that that isn't exactly complimentary.
Ok. So let's continue with this shall we - Hmm...got nothing else 2 blog about rite now so gonna go sleep now. Yay! It's starting 2 rain...luv rain. hope this mood i'm in wears off soon...hehe. Cannot tahan anymore la. okies..nite nite.
No offense taken right?
A nagging little voice in my head is saying "But you holidayed in Indonesia". Yeah, yeah. More on that when I'm not in such a butter-couldn't-melt-in-your-mouth mood, okay. And I'll put up some photos once I upload them, if I ever figure out how. If, after all this time, you don't know then here's an update- I'm a muggle when it comes to computers.
Okay, okay. So I didn't have such a bad holiday after all. And I concede I am not dreading returning to college half so much as I used to dread going back to school. I am still a teenager and would like to exercise my constituted right to a little melodrama from time to time.
Whoa!! Praise the Lord! Why, I do believe I have finally managed to blog as most other normal red-blooded people do (oh okay, maybe not quite). By the way, nothing personal, but if you have read my previous blogs you would know by now that that isn't exactly complimentary.
Ok. So let's continue with this shall we - Hmm...got nothing else 2 blog about rite now so gonna go sleep now. Yay! It's starting 2 rain...luv rain. hope this mood i'm in wears off soon...hehe. Cannot tahan anymore la. okies..nite nite.
No offense taken right?
Why Bother?
Come the first of every year, people all around the world take a minute to sit down and detail the changes they would like to see in themselves and their lives in the coming year. I've not been any different. Each and every year I make a pledge to do better, be better and behave better. Here are my resolutions for 2006:
Lose weight and don't procrastinate
And 2005:
Lose weight and don't procrastinate
2004:
You guessed it- lose weight and don't procrastinate!
Every year the resolutions are the same but the duration of time for which they remain in my conscience seems to get shorter and shorter. So why am I writing about resolutions when new years was weeks ago? Because it has just come to my realisation that I have managed to break one of my resolutions already. That's right, the first month of the year isn't even up yet and already I'm putting of work with deadlines fast approaching. Its a new record people!!
Which makes me wonder why I, and people in general, bother to make these confounded promises in the first place. Because tradition binds them into doing it? Because it serves to forebear one for more broken promises and crushed resolutions in the coming year? Or because it gives the tiniest syllable of hope that things can be different, that we have the power to make it so?
Writing this post, I've come to realise, a little late though I may be, that making a change in your life, whether its losing a couple of inches of your waist or changing careers, requires more than a written expression of that wish or even an earnest desire to change. It requires steely determination and a long-term commitment. Which is why my belated new years resolution is not a renewal of my old ones but a pledge to practice some discipline and acquire some self-respect. Then, and only then will I consider renewing my old resolutions.
Lose weight and don't procrastinate
And 2005:
Lose weight and don't procrastinate
2004:
You guessed it- lose weight and don't procrastinate!
Every year the resolutions are the same but the duration of time for which they remain in my conscience seems to get shorter and shorter. So why am I writing about resolutions when new years was weeks ago? Because it has just come to my realisation that I have managed to break one of my resolutions already. That's right, the first month of the year isn't even up yet and already I'm putting of work with deadlines fast approaching. Its a new record people!!
Which makes me wonder why I, and people in general, bother to make these confounded promises in the first place. Because tradition binds them into doing it? Because it serves to forebear one for more broken promises and crushed resolutions in the coming year? Or because it gives the tiniest syllable of hope that things can be different, that we have the power to make it so?
Writing this post, I've come to realise, a little late though I may be, that making a change in your life, whether its losing a couple of inches of your waist or changing careers, requires more than a written expression of that wish or even an earnest desire to change. It requires steely determination and a long-term commitment. Which is why my belated new years resolution is not a renewal of my old ones but a pledge to practice some discipline and acquire some self-respect. Then, and only then will I consider renewing my old resolutions.
Old Habits Die Hard
Lovely! All i did today was curl up in my armchair with Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (and i read it of course, do you have to ask?). Hour after hour just sailed by as i was drawn deeper and deeper into the witty, nonsensical, frivolous and idle world that is the Bennets'.
I remember being this way a couple of years ago. (Reminiscing has a tendency of making you feel old,doesn't it?). Homework and chores done, i'd retreat to my room and throw myself heart and soul into the magical worlds of J.K. Rowling or J.R.R. Tolkien. In fact, so immersed would i be in the book that i often times didn't even hear my parents shouting for me.
I started reading at an early age. Or at least i'd bug my parents and grandmother to read me the same books so often that i would be able to recite the entire book word for word, even turning the pages at the right times.
Whatever happened to that girl? That couch potatoe whose second home was the book store and favourite scent was that of a newly opened book? It used to be that I could not go leave a mall without first visiting the book store, now i find myself making a beeline for MNG and Dorothy Perkins instead.
Take this morning, for instance. I turned on the tv and flipped through every channel at least twice. 30 channels and there was nothing even remotely interesting to watch. What to do? What to do? Then it hits me right smack between the eyes- i could read!!
Reading, especially fiction, has always been a huge part of my life. Give me a good book and you won't hear a peep out of me for the next two hours. Heck, if i was really bored, i would read old brochures, old newspapers used to wrap nasi lemak, even coffee table books that people buy but never seem to open. God, was i ever anti-social. More so than i am now, if you can imagine.
However, in the light of exams and knowing my own tendency to cling on to a book until the last page, i had to put my reading on the back burner. But I guess old habits die hard because as soon as they were over, I felt that poor suppressed girl within raring to sink her teeth into every novel she could lay her hands on. And this time she's ravenous. It's quite a long list she has made out, ranging from Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History of Time" to Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights".
And that is how i had the best day i've had for a long time. The only thing that could have made it better would be if it had rained. Maybe it will tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me, i hear Elizabeth Bennet tapping her feet impatiently, waiting to make a biting comeback at poor Mr. Darcy. Toodles, and in the meantime an entry once every two days isn't too bad, is it Wen Ni?
I remember being this way a couple of years ago. (Reminiscing has a tendency of making you feel old,doesn't it?). Homework and chores done, i'd retreat to my room and throw myself heart and soul into the magical worlds of J.K. Rowling or J.R.R. Tolkien. In fact, so immersed would i be in the book that i often times didn't even hear my parents shouting for me.
I started reading at an early age. Or at least i'd bug my parents and grandmother to read me the same books so often that i would be able to recite the entire book word for word, even turning the pages at the right times.
Whatever happened to that girl? That couch potatoe whose second home was the book store and favourite scent was that of a newly opened book? It used to be that I could not go leave a mall without first visiting the book store, now i find myself making a beeline for MNG and Dorothy Perkins instead.
Take this morning, for instance. I turned on the tv and flipped through every channel at least twice. 30 channels and there was nothing even remotely interesting to watch. What to do? What to do? Then it hits me right smack between the eyes- i could read!!
Reading, especially fiction, has always been a huge part of my life. Give me a good book and you won't hear a peep out of me for the next two hours. Heck, if i was really bored, i would read old brochures, old newspapers used to wrap nasi lemak, even coffee table books that people buy but never seem to open. God, was i ever anti-social. More so than i am now, if you can imagine.
However, in the light of exams and knowing my own tendency to cling on to a book until the last page, i had to put my reading on the back burner. But I guess old habits die hard because as soon as they were over, I felt that poor suppressed girl within raring to sink her teeth into every novel she could lay her hands on. And this time she's ravenous. It's quite a long list she has made out, ranging from Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History of Time" to Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights".
And that is how i had the best day i've had for a long time. The only thing that could have made it better would be if it had rained. Maybe it will tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me, i hear Elizabeth Bennet tapping her feet impatiently, waiting to make a biting comeback at poor Mr. Darcy. Toodles, and in the meantime an entry once every two days isn't too bad, is it Wen Ni?
Of Birthdays, Booze and something more
Dear God, I thought this day would never come. What day you ask? Why, the day I can boldly and brazenly walk into a bar and order up the most lethal of poisons, or saunter into a nightclub flashing i.d. that does not depict me as being 45 years old, wearing bright red lipstick and big hair, and sporting the name Mrs. Robinson.
Then again, do i really have that liberty? Does it really all depend on age? That when the clock strikes 12 i will instantaneously be a woman of the world with all the responsibilities and perks that go with it.
NO!! So long as i continue living under my parents' roof, i suppose i will have to remain in the iron fists with which they rule (sorry, teen angst is irrepressible).
I believe that freedom- true freedom- will come at a price far greater than peer pressure, the triumph of surviving adolesence and a throbbing headache of looming life-defining decisions.My question is simple, and desperate: What is this elusive price and how soon can i pay it off?
I like to end my essays, stories, yes even blog entries, all nicely and carefully tied up but quite frankly this time i have no answer. So this time i end with a question hoping some wise soul in vast cyberspace will by chance or fate see this entry and offer some form of counsel to this poor waylaid soul(my apologies again-the drama queen personality is hard to keep down too). =)
Then again, do i really have that liberty? Does it really all depend on age? That when the clock strikes 12 i will instantaneously be a woman of the world with all the responsibilities and perks that go with it.
NO!! So long as i continue living under my parents' roof, i suppose i will have to remain in the iron fists with which they rule (sorry, teen angst is irrepressible).
I believe that freedom- true freedom- will come at a price far greater than peer pressure, the triumph of surviving adolesence and a throbbing headache of looming life-defining decisions.My question is simple, and desperate: What is this elusive price and how soon can i pay it off?
I like to end my essays, stories, yes even blog entries, all nicely and carefully tied up but quite frankly this time i have no answer. So this time i end with a question hoping some wise soul in vast cyberspace will by chance or fate see this entry and offer some form of counsel to this poor waylaid soul(my apologies again-the drama queen personality is hard to keep down too). =)
Blogging, anyone?
I have never used my blog in the conventional sense that is to note every minute of every waking hour of my life. Nor have I ever felt obliged to keep a frequent update of it, not when I assumed I would be the only one viewing it. Why would I want to read a 10 line paragraph noting how bored I was on the 15th of November? ("hmm...i'm so bored 2day la...nothing to do...dunno wat 2 rite oso...the weather is pretty gloomy 2day....juz d way i like it...wanna go sleep..hehe..ok dats all folks...").
Sound familiar? I mean, its the WEATHER for God's sakes!! How exciting is it to note that the 15th was a gloomy day and I wanted to stay in bed? Heck, I'm never one for jumping out of bed and chirping "Oh, its a beautiful morning".
But I digress. I have never kept a diary unless you include a 10-year-olds account of her school girl crushes into that category. I have never felt a need for recording my day-to-day life nor have I had any premonition that I may want to relive them in the future. Who needs diaries when you have relatives on all four sides who remember every detail of the past 18 years of my life and never miss an opportunity to remind me of the day I took home my first test paper without having it marked?
No, the only reason I started a blog was because someone told me he saw great potential in my writing and that I should continue writing frequently to hone my craft. Also, with a rambling mind like mine, I sometimes wished I had a Pensieve to siphon my thoughts into. This is my Pensieve. Any "profound" words of wisdom or issues that catch my attention will be extracted and added in here to be examined at my leisure.
I said earlier that I never blogged in the conventinal sense because I had no reason to relive my past day. However, in the light of the fact that I now have a frequent reader, I, at her request, have decided hold back on the random thoughts and try my hand at blogging. This may well be the most personal piece I have written thus far, I know it doesn't seem very intimate but I promise not to be so detached next time.
Look for more on the wild and exciting life of Shakuntala Rathakrishnan in the coming blogs! =)
Sound familiar? I mean, its the WEATHER for God's sakes!! How exciting is it to note that the 15th was a gloomy day and I wanted to stay in bed? Heck, I'm never one for jumping out of bed and chirping "Oh, its a beautiful morning".
But I digress. I have never kept a diary unless you include a 10-year-olds account of her school girl crushes into that category. I have never felt a need for recording my day-to-day life nor have I had any premonition that I may want to relive them in the future. Who needs diaries when you have relatives on all four sides who remember every detail of the past 18 years of my life and never miss an opportunity to remind me of the day I took home my first test paper without having it marked?
No, the only reason I started a blog was because someone told me he saw great potential in my writing and that I should continue writing frequently to hone my craft. Also, with a rambling mind like mine, I sometimes wished I had a Pensieve to siphon my thoughts into. This is my Pensieve. Any "profound" words of wisdom or issues that catch my attention will be extracted and added in here to be examined at my leisure.
I said earlier that I never blogged in the conventinal sense because I had no reason to relive my past day. However, in the light of the fact that I now have a frequent reader, I, at her request, have decided hold back on the random thoughts and try my hand at blogging. This may well be the most personal piece I have written thus far, I know it doesn't seem very intimate but I promise not to be so detached next time.
Look for more on the wild and exciting life of Shakuntala Rathakrishnan in the coming blogs! =)
A Prisoner...of sorts
When I was born, my parents wrapped me in a blanket and carried me home. When I began gaining use of my legs, they installed gates and fences so I wouldn't fall and hurt myself. When I sprouted wings, they roped one foot to the sturdiest pillar in the house. Now that my wings are full-formed and poised to take flight, I find myself shackled, bound tight in chains of iron - my right arm to my family's trust which stays my hand when impulse overthrows reasoning, and my left arm to my own mind, wherein which the ingrained fear of the outside world keeps me from venturing a foot outdoors.
Indecision- The Bane of my Existence
Physics or psychology? Law or marketing? Nokia or Sony Ericsson? Tea or coffee? Sneakers or platforms? Decisions are an inevitable part of life but to someone as fickle-minded as I am, they can be torturous. Even more so for those around me who have to deal with waiting a whole 5 minutes while I decide if I want whipped cream with my ice-blended mocha.
How the hell am I going to decide on a career when I can't even make up my mind which shoes to wear in the morning? That is not to say I wish someone else would make up my mind for me. I can imagine asking my family to help me decide on a career - medicine, medicine, medicine. Whether it is me being contradictory or at least beginning to show some sense of decisiveness(?), medicine is the one thing I have made up my mind not to do.
As for the other career options, I suppose I'll just have try them all out before I settle down to one. Then again, with the long list of possibilities, I may never settle down. But that's okay too, so long as I try them out and think it through instead of blindly jabbing my finger at one and basing my whole life around it.
The whole point of this blog is...The whole point of this blog is simply to vet my feelings of frustrations and to offer some simple advice to like-minded people out there - those also suffering from this affliction. When I'm faced with a particularly tough decision, I simply put myself a few years forward and think of which of the choices I would be most proud of, which would bear the least consequences, and it becomes a no-brainer.
And with my career aspirations, I know I could never rest knowing there is still unchatered territory waiting to be explored. So, I will sail the open seas far and wide before coming home with the comforting thought of a life well-lived.
I absolutely devoured Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as a child, figuratively speaking, of course (though with the vivid description of every type of candy conceivable-and inconceiveable-to man, its a wonder I didn't). And if I am honest with myself, I still do enjoy picking up the book occasionally. Therefore,I eagerly anticipated the release of the latest screen adaptation of the book, this time helmed by Tim Burton. The verdict - I LOVED IT!!
So many filmmakers try to better the original stories (think Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, The Lord of the Rings). Why try to fix something that isn't broken to begin with? In fact, why try to tinker with something when it is causing waves just the way it is?
That's exactly why I loved Burton's version of the story. He told the story just as Roald Dahl did (the parts he did tell at least). Fom the pink boiled sweet boat to the characteristic speeches of Willy Wonka to every one of the satirical songs, he stuck to the book as far as it took him. However, as I read the book, much as loved Willy Wonka's queer ways, they seemed unjustified. And this is where Burton took over. Adding the bit about Wonka's past gave meaning to his eccentricities as well as including Burton's characteristic edge to the movie.
As far as I'm concerned,Tim Burton did as all other directors of remakes should do, he took the story as far as it took him and then filled in whatever gaps he saw fit to. That aside, Johnny Depp was marvellous as Willy Wonka and Freddy Highmore shone as Charlie Bucket but I think the Oompa Loompas stole the show. All in all, I came away with a toothache from merely looking at all the sweets but strangely, and thankfully, without the syrupy feeling that follows all feel good movies.
So many filmmakers try to better the original stories (think Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, The Lord of the Rings). Why try to fix something that isn't broken to begin with? In fact, why try to tinker with something when it is causing waves just the way it is?
That's exactly why I loved Burton's version of the story. He told the story just as Roald Dahl did (the parts he did tell at least). Fom the pink boiled sweet boat to the characteristic speeches of Willy Wonka to every one of the satirical songs, he stuck to the book as far as it took him. However, as I read the book, much as loved Willy Wonka's queer ways, they seemed unjustified. And this is where Burton took over. Adding the bit about Wonka's past gave meaning to his eccentricities as well as including Burton's characteristic edge to the movie.
As far as I'm concerned,Tim Burton did as all other directors of remakes should do, he took the story as far as it took him and then filled in whatever gaps he saw fit to. That aside, Johnny Depp was marvellous as Willy Wonka and Freddy Highmore shone as Charlie Bucket but I think the Oompa Loompas stole the show. All in all, I came away with a toothache from merely looking at all the sweets but strangely, and thankfully, without the syrupy feeling that follows all feel good movies.
The morning sun glinted on the lazy waves. Underfoot, the grass seemed greener than ever before, the blue sky overhead bluer. All the world seemed reborn and at peace with itself.
High above on a cliff, a solitary figure stood silent, stiff and poised. The gentle sea breeze pushed back her hair revealing eyes ablaze with the light of a challenge, gazing into the future of harvests to come. She steps to the edge and looks over into the sea far below, much as a warrior surveys his enemy before a battle. Her foe stares defiantly back, teasing, tormenting, daring, holding her heart's desire just out of reach.
Success comes only with confidence and steely determination, and is but the knowledge of obstacles overcome. Eyes never leaving the goal below, she dives headfirst into the sea.
The waves, from high above seemed like gentle ripples. Now in their midst, they were angry, merciless soldiers intent on engulfing her and dragging her to the depths of despair. On the outside that vast expanse of sea displayed a facade of calm and serenity, while inwardly treacherous to all who dared defy it.
Seconds turned to agonising minutes and still the ceaseless pounding of the waves were undisturbed. But with the same certainty of the pounding waves a head breaks the surface of the water. A minute figure, significantly insignificant, yet needing no introduction or worthy praise.
As she makes her way back to the shore, the burning of desire in her eyes is quenched by the radiance of victory. Yet deep within, the ceaseless glow of ambition is continual.
As proud strides lead her away from the arena, she turns for a last look at her defeated foe and something catches her eye. Mirrored in the water is a cliff, like the first and yet not so. Taller, steeper and with treacherous rocks at its feet.
The light of a challenge flickers back into her eyes as she surveys this newest obstacle, mouth still tasting the sweetness of recent victory, skin tingling with the excitement of another challenge and mind reeling with the knowledge of more to come.
High above on a cliff, a solitary figure stood silent, stiff and poised. The gentle sea breeze pushed back her hair revealing eyes ablaze with the light of a challenge, gazing into the future of harvests to come. She steps to the edge and looks over into the sea far below, much as a warrior surveys his enemy before a battle. Her foe stares defiantly back, teasing, tormenting, daring, holding her heart's desire just out of reach.
Success comes only with confidence and steely determination, and is but the knowledge of obstacles overcome. Eyes never leaving the goal below, she dives headfirst into the sea.
The waves, from high above seemed like gentle ripples. Now in their midst, they were angry, merciless soldiers intent on engulfing her and dragging her to the depths of despair. On the outside that vast expanse of sea displayed a facade of calm and serenity, while inwardly treacherous to all who dared defy it.
Seconds turned to agonising minutes and still the ceaseless pounding of the waves were undisturbed. But with the same certainty of the pounding waves a head breaks the surface of the water. A minute figure, significantly insignificant, yet needing no introduction or worthy praise.
As she makes her way back to the shore, the burning of desire in her eyes is quenched by the radiance of victory. Yet deep within, the ceaseless glow of ambition is continual.
As proud strides lead her away from the arena, she turns for a last look at her defeated foe and something catches her eye. Mirrored in the water is a cliff, like the first and yet not so. Taller, steeper and with treacherous rocks at its feet.
The light of a challenge flickers back into her eyes as she surveys this newest obstacle, mouth still tasting the sweetness of recent victory, skin tingling with the excitement of another challenge and mind reeling with the knowledge of more to come.
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