Tuesday, November 27, 2007
The next day I went to meet him as he took his things from her place. As the cab started driving and the rains started pouring (some would say the gods were crying; others that they were laughing), I learnt that not 6 hours after he had told me of his breakup, another friend of mine, though not as close, called him to cry that her boyfriend of sorts, our coursemate and mutual friend, had called off the relationship as well.
I don't treat this as a secret revelation shared among my BFFs. In fact I probably blogged and explained about it before. To my inner circle of friends (good friend, best friend, unbreakable), I feel a huge love for them. Nothing special, nothing hormonal, but I feel that as someone who is privy to that certain amount of trust, I have an odd responsibility to care for them in times of need, and just love them out of their misery.
But for all the pride I take in myself - being a comms student, a people person, an emotionally-tuned person - I feel terrible as a friend to have in times of need. If I don't say the wrong thing, it only means that I'm not even saying anything because I don't know what to say. For all the love I pride myself in being capable of giving, I still don't trust myself in hugging people freely, telling them that I care so much for them and want to be there for them. At the end of the day, as I'm on my way home, I ask myself "What have you done to make him or her feel better?", and what do I hear but silence, or else lousy answers. Can I really be there for them? Telling parents that I'm studying like hell when I'm playing mahjong just to keep them company? Having to leave by 9.30 or face the wrath of my parents for coming home after 11? Trying to balance between exams and this? So many questions I've asked myself since.
I want to do all I can for my friends. I'll probably be stupid enough to die unnecessarily for them. But do I have what it takes in the first place?
Monday, November 26, 2007
To try brownies la. Don't read my blog if you're horny.
So he brought me to the Brownie Factory, promising the best brownies ever, his treat! Now I'm quite skeptical when the words "best" and "brownie" are put side by side, because 80% of the "best brownies" I've tried are really just dark brown chunks of chocolate flour. And so now I'm disillusioned. The Brownie Factory, however, delivered, and I bit into a chocosymphony of gooey chocolate centres and slightly less saturated sandwiches of chocolatey dough. With great taste however, comes great fat. My paper bag was soaked through by the time I was done.
I commented to a nodding NTT that usually chocolate leaves your mouth sandy and dry, but the choc in the brownie runs down your throat like it should. Nevertheless, I didn't want to risk having a choco-mouth all the way back to Tampines, so we went back down to Wisma to look for water. Now all this time I kept getting little static shocks from NTT, and since he said it wasn't him, well I concur it's me then. We were debating who it was as we went up the escalator, so on a whim I looked at my index finger, and at his right hand resting on his leg, and I poked his hand. UNBEKNOWNST TO ME, his left hand was gripping the escalator, as well as brushing against the metal underside. The result was a splendiferous crack that made me nearly fall off the escalator, and also nearly made me yell out a huge bubbly FUCK for all of Orchard Road to hear.
So remember boys and girls. Then next time you're really itching to try and see if you're charged up, that is the one time you damn well keep your hands to yourself before you fry yourself up.
Friday, November 23, 2007
The story is that two weeks ago, I went for my NS medical checkup. Yes, the drop-pants-turn-cough medical checkup. And at the very first task of the day, urine test, ...
"'kay, Ren...hao? I will need you to drink lots and lots of water. You'll have to redo the test later because you appear to have traces of blood in your urine."
"... ... ... ... okaay."
An hour later, it was still there. I knew straight on that something wasn't right after I examined the strip in the toilet and found the last patch turning blue.
And so an official summons was printed for two weeks later, today, to come back and redo the test. The good thing about today was that an alert medical officer spotted me holding my summons in the queue, and after reading it, told me to get out of the queue and get straight to it.
After I got outta there 10min later, I decided that I wasn't going to dash straight home, and clearly remembered the dismay I experienced two weeks ago when, barely 10 seconds after the taxi I hailed to get to school accelerated, I zipped right past the unmistakable Botak Jones sign. I was left with my head cranked 90degrees to the right and jaws slacking open. Back to today, I figured that Botak wouldn't be open so early at 830am, and I was right, and that in any case there would be other stalls open for the breakfast crowd, and I was right. As I sat enjoying my nasi lemak while watching Ugly Betty S2 on my ZEN (more on that in the next post), I felt the light smile that my parents say used to cling stubbornly to my face when I was young fading back. And as I drank kopi o (what's their problem are they trying to clear sugar stock or what? Sheesh man.), I thought to myself, "what a wonderful world. This is the way life's meant to be." Taking your time and not wolfing your food down (although rush or no rush I still eat fast anyway... bad habit), not having to think about anything or plan in advance for later events, at least till late afternoon. Just able to go walkin' around, lookin' around. I briefly toyed with the idea of going to town for a stroll, since 175 brought me to so many prime stops in town, but decided against it in the end, and good thing I did, because as I was walking back from Tampines Interchange, my dad called to ask me where I was. Turns out that he was leaving the house early. As it happens I lost my key again (dunno whether I really lost it or they keeping it - sure are making things hard for themselves, but whatever. My back pockets are all very deep), and they couldn't leave the house for fear of locking me out.
Come back, play DotA, watch anime, watch Ugly Betty... If only everyday could be like this.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Some interesting sponsors there...
and photos of me and Andrea trying our best to look cool in formal wear and holding a WSJ. Not cheap sia that small newspaper... I thought well, if I couldn't conduct the business, at least I could try my hand at observation - seeing...
Here's a rare photo of the game in action. I mostly didn't even think about pulling my phone out because I was so worried about how the hell we were going to survive with 8 fucking thousand in the bank balance. You can see the teams in the process of bidding to sell at the lowest price, tapping away on their PDAs. The wooden board in front of us were a physical representation of what we had. Raw materials, machines, laborers, trucks, finished products... the list runs on. In the centre, and the spinning table denotes the world and its respective markets by continent. The Malay team on the left came all the way down from Universiti Teknologi Petronas (I think that's how you spell it), and the team beside them was the SIM team that won the competition in the end.
It was a really fierce competition, and I'm glad I joined. I learnt many things I never would have learnt otherwise.
Friday, November 16, 2007
We got off at Hougang Avenue 3.
"Well I was right, though. It did pass your bus stops, it just didn't stop there."
I should have bitchslapped and sat on him.
We ended up at Heartland Mall getting distracted by a million things, especially that Comics Connection store. But we both had dinner waiting, and so he showed me to the bus stop/MRT station. And guess who we met there? Wei Yang, whom we just did a presentation with an hour earlier.
And he laughed at my plight. :(
In the end I just took the NEL to Punggol then 34 back. It would definitely have been faster than if I took the direct 81 all the way back.
Paid 40c more to sight-see abit of Singapore. Thanks.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
And so after like an hour and a half of complaints, I decided to become an English tutor!
No la I'm not weird. Well some insist I'm eccentric, but not in this sense I assure you. Tutoring has been at the back of my mind for quite long now, just that I never quite bothered to put my name and particulars down in tuition agencies. They behave just like or even worse than the already unbelievably niao Singaporean parents (if anyone foreign is reading this, niao = picky). But I could do with some extra money, since all my tastes and wants seem to be going up the dollar ladder.
We shall see. Meanwhile, I look forward to meeting Mr Fong, and in fact the rest of the Ping community really soon!
Monday, November 5, 2007
Great innit? Could win some awards there.