The weekend fleeted past with such astonishing quickness, I have only a vague memory of what I accomplished in the past two days. I drove the man to work on Saturday afternoon, then proceeded to the office myself. Stayed unexpectedly till 7 and I had to peel myself off the chair and leave because that was no freakin' way to spend a much-cherished Saturday afternoon. Had a coffee at the joint, then picked up the man, had a quickie dinner, then hit my pillows almost immediately once I got home. I had no idea working on a Saturday can be so exhausting.
On Sunday evening, the man played his first league game in, lemme see... 4 years? To me, that's like coming out of an unofficial semi-retirement, and I really admire his commitment to come back to the game, and to want to excel, at our age. By international professional standards, 28 is not exactly a very old age to draw amazement. Jordan first retired at age 30, dabbled in pro baseball for a couple of years before coming out of retirement at age 32 (wow), re-retired at 36, amazingly returned to the game for the last time at age 38 (big WOW) before finishing his career for real at age 40. When you look at that kind of career history, you're impressed and inspired with nothing less than pure passion for the game. At 28? You're still probably having the best time of your career in a pro game.
But for us, in a sad country where livelihood is sustainable only with a "stable corporate job" and will never be satisfied with a pro-sports career, to still be playing competitively at age 28 is already a big achievement that should draw applause and respect (not many folks here can juggle work, training, work, family, social life, work, games and still stand alive). To return to the competitive game after a 4-year hiatus with an even greater hunger to win, manifests a sense of passion as strong as that of our Hero of the Century.
My man is so committed to his game, he dreams of basketball (yes, not me, unfortunately). He talks basketball (not me), he daydreams of basketball moves (sigh... not me) when he's not playing, he draws inspiration from Jordan VCDs (not me) before his games, he works on his shots (er... not me) in the morning before his games. And his efforts paid off well last night. And I'm so darn proud of him.
(Miss Tan: he wants me to let you know he scored 17 last night, not 9 as you thought. So that makes it 57% of his target achieved. Not too bad, he says.)
And he's so happy. Happy that he's come back to his game the way he wanted to. And I'm happy that he's happy. Happiness is such a contagious disease, that's so easily transmitted via emotional contact with loved ones, and wave-lengths of love signals between 2 persons.
Happiness is a state of mind, so say many writers on the topic. But I beg to differ. Happiness is a result of the state of affair, as much as it is of the state of mind. It is not a mutually exclusive relationship. To believe that happiness is only a result of one's state of mind, is to encourage one to be devoid of emotions and passion. When you love someone so deeply, that person's happiness becomes intertwined with your own happiness. It's only natural that when your special one is happy, you're happy and when he/she is unhappy, you are concerned too. Your happiness becomes a function of external factors.
Writers of such non-fictional topics are usually happy folks with happy families - spouses, kids and all - and with probably things going well for them in life. They are probably not depressive, suicidal people. Well, you know this when you read the author's short biography at the beginning of every such book. Only the fiction writers lapse into depression and kill themselves.
It's horrific I notice such things.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Sweet home
Well, I've been to San Francisco and back. Yup, three days at Frisco and twenty hours mid-air flying back home. And I had not had a single blog entry since I left Portland. Blame it on extreme ill-discipline. Oh, and a very serious case of exhaustion every night.
I had really planned for an ongoing journal - to write down all the exciting experiences I had everyday. I took tons and tons of pictures as well - over 500 in just three days. But by the time I got back to the hostel at 7 or 8 pm every night, I was so tired I could only think of dozing off after a shower, to replenish energy for the next day. And as a result, I never got to writing my daily travel journal.
What a shame.
I touched down on homeground early this morning at 12.40am. And I could only think of soup and noodle. After dumping my bags at home and saying a quickie hello to my mom, I zipped out of the house immediately, for a quick fix of fishball noodle soup. You'd never imagine the huge wave of satisfaction that came over me at the end of the meal. I smiled all the way walking back home.
Man came home today as well, from a five-day trip to Adelaide. Bliss is being able to pick him up from 'work', and blissful I was this evening. Missed him for ten days, and a slow, quiet evening with him made the end of the 'drought' so much sweeter.
How can I forget to mention my baby girls?
My girls were the most ecstatic on seeing me home after ten days. Especially Piper the craziest but also sweetest one. To them, I must've been gone for three years or something. They jumped (peed a little too because of the over-excitement) all over me, licked me over from face to toes, followed me all over the house with their perked-up, waving little tails and Speedy-Gonzales footsteps, alert eyes fixated on my every action, never letting me out of their sight ever again, as I walked from room to bathroom to room to kitchen to room and all over. And when I went for my fishball noodle soup meal and back, they started the whole excitement again as if I were gone for one year this time. How I love my little girls.
Okay, I gotta start on my journals soon, before I forget every nitty gritty detail. Work is suddenly piling up as well, because I've played too hard over the past few days. Not nice.
I had really planned for an ongoing journal - to write down all the exciting experiences I had everyday. I took tons and tons of pictures as well - over 500 in just three days. But by the time I got back to the hostel at 7 or 8 pm every night, I was so tired I could only think of dozing off after a shower, to replenish energy for the next day. And as a result, I never got to writing my daily travel journal.
What a shame.
I touched down on homeground early this morning at 12.40am. And I could only think of soup and noodle. After dumping my bags at home and saying a quickie hello to my mom, I zipped out of the house immediately, for a quick fix of fishball noodle soup. You'd never imagine the huge wave of satisfaction that came over me at the end of the meal. I smiled all the way walking back home.
Man came home today as well, from a five-day trip to Adelaide. Bliss is being able to pick him up from 'work', and blissful I was this evening. Missed him for ten days, and a slow, quiet evening with him made the end of the 'drought' so much sweeter.
How can I forget to mention my baby girls?
My girls were the most ecstatic on seeing me home after ten days. Especially Piper the craziest but also sweetest one. To them, I must've been gone for three years or something. They jumped (peed a little too because of the over-excitement) all over me, licked me over from face to toes, followed me all over the house with their perked-up, waving little tails and Speedy-Gonzales footsteps, alert eyes fixated on my every action, never letting me out of their sight ever again, as I walked from room to bathroom to room to kitchen to room and all over. And when I went for my fishball noodle soup meal and back, they started the whole excitement again as if I were gone for one year this time. How I love my little girls.
Okay, I gotta start on my journals soon, before I forget every nitty gritty detail. Work is suddenly piling up as well, because I've played too hard over the past few days. Not nice.
Friday, February 18, 2005
3 bad moves & 2 good news
I'm an hour away from boarding my plane to Frisco.
I was actually too excited, and had checked out of comfort a little too early. I was quite silly - what was I expecting, a queue for check-out at the frontdesk at 4 in the morning? I sat at the lobby for 20 minutes, then couldn't stand the wait. Walked to the Met station... and waited 20 minutes more. In the cold. Another dumb-ass move. And it was pretty worrying seeing blokes walking around out of nowhere.
The zzz symdrome never left me. Dozed off almost immediately once I boarded the first Met ride of the day. The sleeplessness just hit me suddenly, and I felt so tired I wished I hadn't stayed up. Bad move number 3, and I hope it stops right there.
The syndrome I've got makes me sleep so deeply till I always almost miss my stop. So I slept even as the train stopped right at the Airport. Woke up (with a startle) only when I heard too much noise from people dragging their luggages off the train.
And I was most happy when I found out my luggage weighed only 38lbs, way less than the 50lbs allowed. Good, I can now dump all my notes back into the luggage.
Found free wi-fi internet access at the Portland airport. And it pleases me so, as I sit here drinking my morning latte. Have to look for a notebook now, so I can jot down my journals as I travel San Francisco.
I was actually too excited, and had checked out of comfort a little too early. I was quite silly - what was I expecting, a queue for check-out at the frontdesk at 4 in the morning? I sat at the lobby for 20 minutes, then couldn't stand the wait. Walked to the Met station... and waited 20 minutes more. In the cold. Another dumb-ass move. And it was pretty worrying seeing blokes walking around out of nowhere.
The zzz symdrome never left me. Dozed off almost immediately once I boarded the first Met ride of the day. The sleeplessness just hit me suddenly, and I felt so tired I wished I hadn't stayed up. Bad move number 3, and I hope it stops right there.
The syndrome I've got makes me sleep so deeply till I always almost miss my stop. So I slept even as the train stopped right at the Airport. Woke up (with a startle) only when I heard too much noise from people dragging their luggages off the train.
And I was most happy when I found out my luggage weighed only 38lbs, way less than the 50lbs allowed. Good, I can now dump all my notes back into the luggage.
Found free wi-fi internet access at the Portland airport. And it pleases me so, as I sit here drinking my morning latte. Have to look for a notebook now, so I can jot down my journals as I travel San Francisco.
Half hour more
Four more hours to my flight to San Francisco, and I'm feeling more and more excited. The not-so-exciting part is having to check out of my cosy hotel by 3.30am, catch the Met by 4am, get to the airport by 4.45am, so I can check in for my 6.40am flight. I'll reach SF in an hour and forty minutes' time, which still leaves me with a good whole day to start exploring the city, but I suspect I might just zonk out sometime in the daytime.
Just managed to book my hostel lodging this evening. Because of my procrastination, I now could not get a 2-bed dorm, and have to settle for a 4- or 5-bed one. Which, of course, is cheaper, but for a first-time 'backpacker' (with a luggage in tow), I worry a little about the other 4 girls I'll be bunking with. As part of my 'budget travel' plan, I'll be taking the Metro again from the airport into downtown, and lug my luggage along the streets towards the hostel. Green Tortoise (don't ask me why the name) is great (at least on their web site) because they offer free wireless internet access and free dinners on Fridays (Mondays and Wednesdays as well) - again, just perfect for my 'budget travel' plans!
It's been work, work, and more work over the past couple of days. The days seemed to drag on longer this trip. Didn't do much shopping either. I just couldn't wait for this Frisco trip.
Of course, life is never easy for me. At midnight, shortly after I returned from a bowling session organized for our group, I realized I left my contact lens case somewhere unretrievable at that ungodly hour. Panic, panic, for I can't do without it. Put on my jacket again and hurried to the convenience store, but it was already closed - dang, I thought it was run 24-hour. Back in my room, pondered and worried for a while. Then ingeniously, I decided to use 2 empty bottle caps (one of my 'in case' goodies ) to contain my lenses. I just hope they are clean enough and don't cause my eyes to puff up later.
Time to start packing. I was supposed to travel light; I told myself that. But I don't think I achieved that. The luggage weight limit for a domestic flight is usually about 20lbs less than what we normally get for an international flight, and I think I might have a problem with that. The last time it happened to me, I was flying from Portland to Seattle, to visit my cousins. My luggage was overweight, and my pleading failed. The counter staff simply threw me a gigantic plastic bag (think the clear plastic bags that you use to contain the fish you buy from the market, yes that kind, except the one I got was a much much bigger version) and I had to throw some excess stuff into it. Gawd, imagine me towing a luggage and lugging a plastic-bag-full of stuff out of the airport... so unglam!! But luckily, my cousin was right out there waiting to pick me up in his swanky Acura RSX, so I was spared the embarassment.
But I cannot afford such embarassment and inconvenience this time, because I do not have a swanky car waiting to pick me up, and instead, I have to take the public transport! So, I stuffed and I squeezed and I decided to hand over the heaviest stuff to my poor colleague, so she can help me carry them back. Poor thing. Too bad.
Ok. Half an hour more to go before I check out of warmth and cosiness...
Just managed to book my hostel lodging this evening. Because of my procrastination, I now could not get a 2-bed dorm, and have to settle for a 4- or 5-bed one. Which, of course, is cheaper, but for a first-time 'backpacker' (with a luggage in tow), I worry a little about the other 4 girls I'll be bunking with. As part of my 'budget travel' plan, I'll be taking the Metro again from the airport into downtown, and lug my luggage along the streets towards the hostel. Green Tortoise (don't ask me why the name) is great (at least on their web site) because they offer free wireless internet access and free dinners on Fridays (Mondays and Wednesdays as well) - again, just perfect for my 'budget travel' plans!
It's been work, work, and more work over the past couple of days. The days seemed to drag on longer this trip. Didn't do much shopping either. I just couldn't wait for this Frisco trip.
Of course, life is never easy for me. At midnight, shortly after I returned from a bowling session organized for our group, I realized I left my contact lens case somewhere unretrievable at that ungodly hour. Panic, panic, for I can't do without it. Put on my jacket again and hurried to the convenience store, but it was already closed - dang, I thought it was run 24-hour. Back in my room, pondered and worried for a while. Then ingeniously, I decided to use 2 empty bottle caps (one of my 'in case' goodies ) to contain my lenses. I just hope they are clean enough and don't cause my eyes to puff up later.
Time to start packing. I was supposed to travel light; I told myself that. But I don't think I achieved that. The luggage weight limit for a domestic flight is usually about 20lbs less than what we normally get for an international flight, and I think I might have a problem with that. The last time it happened to me, I was flying from Portland to Seattle, to visit my cousins. My luggage was overweight, and my pleading failed. The counter staff simply threw me a gigantic plastic bag (think the clear plastic bags that you use to contain the fish you buy from the market, yes that kind, except the one I got was a much much bigger version) and I had to throw some excess stuff into it. Gawd, imagine me towing a luggage and lugging a plastic-bag-full of stuff out of the airport... so unglam!! But luckily, my cousin was right out there waiting to pick me up in his swanky Acura RSX, so I was spared the embarassment.
But I cannot afford such embarassment and inconvenience this time, because I do not have a swanky car waiting to pick me up, and instead, I have to take the public transport! So, I stuffed and I squeezed and I decided to hand over the heaviest stuff to my poor colleague, so she can help me carry them back. Poor thing. Too bad.
Ok. Half an hour more to go before I check out of warmth and cosiness...
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Frisco?
The weather is getting really chilly here. Stepping out of the hotel for less than five minutes, I could literally feel my un-gloved hands and un-scarfed face freezing up. It doesn't look it, but it's about 32 degree Farenheit, which makes it about 0 to 1 degree Celsius back home.
It's 6.30 Tuesday morning, and I'm sitting in Starbucks next door, sipping piping-hot venti skinny latte, checking emails, working on my finances, and trying to catch folks online over msn. It is still dark outside, but probably in about 20 minutes, day will break. And it'll be another horribly boring day at work - I almost died yesterday, and I asked my boss if I could skip the next meeting. He probably thought I was kidding, but unbeknownst to him, I do have something up my sleeves... heh heh heh.
Yes, I'm working out my finances here in Starbucks. Not that I'm guilty over spending on a venti latte here in the US, but I'm terribly upset at myself for spending uncontrollably over Christmas last December. Too many nice pressies and surprises. My post-career plans for myself will fail if I do not start saving some dough now. Grrrrr...
Now, I'm re-considering my plans for Frisco. =(
It's 6.30 Tuesday morning, and I'm sitting in Starbucks next door, sipping piping-hot venti skinny latte, checking emails, working on my finances, and trying to catch folks online over msn. It is still dark outside, but probably in about 20 minutes, day will break. And it'll be another horribly boring day at work - I almost died yesterday, and I asked my boss if I could skip the next meeting. He probably thought I was kidding, but unbeknownst to him, I do have something up my sleeves... heh heh heh.
Yes, I'm working out my finances here in Starbucks. Not that I'm guilty over spending on a venti latte here in the US, but I'm terribly upset at myself for spending uncontrollably over Christmas last December. Too many nice pressies and surprises. My post-career plans for myself will fail if I do not start saving some dough now. Grrrrr...
Now, I'm re-considering my plans for Frisco. =(
Monday, February 14, 2005
Cold and lovely
It's 6.30 in the morning, and I'm about to go to the campus.
I've been online almost the entire night, simply because I paid US$9.95 for this connection for the entire day, so I damn bloody well make the fullest use of it.
I woke up after a 2-hour "nap" because I got woken up by a 'horrible' dream and couldn't fall back into sleep again. Got up, took a shower, and went out to grab a coffee (good thing I like here is that coffee shops are open from 6 in the morning). And good thing too cos I found out I could get FREE internet access at that coffee shop. Heh heh heh...
It's freakin cold outside... but I love the cold. I have to deck out in layers but I love being cold. I hate being hot, because I would complain incessantly about it, and I can't possibly walk around shirtless, can I? Perhaps, being extremely cold is an experience I never had growing up in a tropical island, and so is a new exhilarating feeling to me.
My friends find me weird, as such.
I've been online almost the entire night, simply because I paid US$9.95 for this connection for the entire day, so I damn bloody well make the fullest use of it.
I woke up after a 2-hour "nap" because I got woken up by a 'horrible' dream and couldn't fall back into sleep again. Got up, took a shower, and went out to grab a coffee (good thing I like here is that coffee shops are open from 6 in the morning). And good thing too cos I found out I could get FREE internet access at that coffee shop. Heh heh heh...
It's freakin cold outside... but I love the cold. I have to deck out in layers but I love being cold. I hate being hot, because I would complain incessantly about it, and I can't possibly walk around shirtless, can I? Perhaps, being extremely cold is an experience I never had growing up in a tropical island, and so is a new exhilarating feeling to me.
My friends find me weird, as such.
Virtual kisses
It's now 1.41 in the am and I still can't get back to sleep. Uh-oh. In for a sleepy day at work tomorrow.
It's Valentine's day officially now, and it's been years since I spent this day with the loved one. And today, I'm stuck in cold, lonely Portland with a bad stomach and woozy headache. Not pleasant.
No presents this year, no mushy online greeting cards, no nothing. Just a "Happy Valentine's" over msn. And I think I could feel his warmth and kisses over the www. Hmmm... sweet.
It's Valentine's day officially now, and it's been years since I spent this day with the loved one. And today, I'm stuck in cold, lonely Portland with a bad stomach and woozy headache. Not pleasant.
No presents this year, no mushy online greeting cards, no nothing. Just a "Happy Valentine's" over msn. And I think I could feel his warmth and kisses over the www. Hmmm... sweet.
Can't zzz
It's 10:34 in the pm in Portland, and I can't get to sleep. And I suppose that's because I had already been sleeping almost the entire day since I checked into the hotel about 7 in the morning.
If the flight from Singapore to Narita was bad, I can't imagine how else to describe the next sector from Narita to Portland. Less than an hour onboard the 10-hour flight, I started feeling sick in the stomach, and then later developing a fever. I got a 2-seater but even then, I couldn't really rest well and my back was screaming with aches not too longer after. I never had a more horrible flight experience.
After resting on the bed for almost 12 hours, I still don't feel well. The tummy is playing tricks on me, and the headache comes and goes.
I took a walk outside in the evening to grab some drinking water and hopefully some aspirins. The weather started out cool for me, and eventually turned freezing cold. Found out later it was almost 1 degree Celsius out there. Never had experienced such cold weather in Portland. Now am wondering what SF would be like. Dang.
Sigh. Just have this feeling I've wasted my only free day in Portland. If I weren't feeling so horribly sick, I would've have taken the met and gone shopping at my favorite stores in the city and outside. I would've headed straight for Target, a place I don't know why all the girls are crazy about. Well, maybe it's a good thing after all, to stop me from spending more money.
I have both hands on the keyboard and one eye on the television. Let me see how long I can keep this up tonight before I doze off again.
If the flight from Singapore to Narita was bad, I can't imagine how else to describe the next sector from Narita to Portland. Less than an hour onboard the 10-hour flight, I started feeling sick in the stomach, and then later developing a fever. I got a 2-seater but even then, I couldn't really rest well and my back was screaming with aches not too longer after. I never had a more horrible flight experience.
After resting on the bed for almost 12 hours, I still don't feel well. The tummy is playing tricks on me, and the headache comes and goes.
I took a walk outside in the evening to grab some drinking water and hopefully some aspirins. The weather started out cool for me, and eventually turned freezing cold. Found out later it was almost 1 degree Celsius out there. Never had experienced such cold weather in Portland. Now am wondering what SF would be like. Dang.
Sigh. Just have this feeling I've wasted my only free day in Portland. If I weren't feeling so horribly sick, I would've have taken the met and gone shopping at my favorite stores in the city and outside. I would've headed straight for Target, a place I don't know why all the girls are crazy about. Well, maybe it's a good thing after all, to stop me from spending more money.
I have both hands on the keyboard and one eye on the television. Let me see how long I can keep this up tonight before I doze off again.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Transit time
Am at Narita Airport now, waiting for my next flight to Portland. The 6-hour flight here wasn't fantastic. Fell asleep even before the plane took off, nibbled half-consciously on the pathetic food served because the gastric juices weren't exactly giving my tummy a good time, tried to watch a movie (since I had a personalized screen on the new aircraft) but dozed off halfway through. And I'm nursing a prettyawful headache now, because I haven't been wearing my glasses for a long while and I'm not quite getting used to it now.
Awful, awful, terrible.
I had wanted to travel light because of my side trip to SF later in the week, but my luggage was so farkin heavy. I thought I had already skimmed down on the unnecessary, but I think I carried way too much adapters/wires/chargers, and too much toiletries as well. Well, the girly girl in me just can't stand using just about any shampoo/conditioner provided in the hotels, can I?
I had no time to re-pack my luggage cos I reached home 2 hours before I was scheduled to be picked up for the airport. Had too much fun - it's still the festive season, y'know. Well, hopefully this will stop me from buying unnecessary stuff in the US.
20 minutes to take-off. I need to finish up my free ice-cold Sapporo (courtesy of the club lounge I have access to, which also provides me this free internet access... wow, the benefits of frequent flyers) before I rush for the gate.
Mmmm...
Awful, awful, terrible.
I had wanted to travel light because of my side trip to SF later in the week, but my luggage was so farkin heavy. I thought I had already skimmed down on the unnecessary, but I think I carried way too much adapters/wires/chargers, and too much toiletries as well. Well, the girly girl in me just can't stand using just about any shampoo/conditioner provided in the hotels, can I?
I had no time to re-pack my luggage cos I reached home 2 hours before I was scheduled to be picked up for the airport. Had too much fun - it's still the festive season, y'know. Well, hopefully this will stop me from buying unnecessary stuff in the US.
20 minutes to take-off. I need to finish up my free ice-cold Sapporo (courtesy of the club lounge I have access to, which also provides me this free internet access... wow, the benefits of frequent flyers) before I rush for the gate.
Mmmm...
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Plan and pack
Day 4 of the Lunar New Year, and it's only Saturday. I'm enjoying this long break. And even lurving it more when I'm not going back to the office till another 11 days later. Mmmm...
Packing my luggage for yet another long journey. It's no fun, after so many years, travelling to Portland for the same old meetings - it's no fun because it's always the same old city, it's always the same old long and dreary flight (I've calculated, it's 20 farkin' hours) onboard nothing less than the 'fantastic' Northwest where 'nice cheery' old aunties and grannies serve you nothing but "chicken or fish?", it's always the same old hotel, same old breakfast, same old everything. And it's not so especially fun this year because I'm flying off in about 18 hours, right in the midst of all the fun during the new year. AND... I miss Valentine's every year.
Dread, dread, dread.
I guess I shouldn't be complaining when I'm better off than a lot of folks out there who don't usually get a chance to fly to the US for business meetings every 4 months. But you would understand my frustration when you see the point that though I do get to travel to the US, I'm always in the same ONE city out of the hundreds others in the great big land. It's like, I'm always in the States, but I never really got to see the states.
So this time, I'm being a little bolder and adventurous. And this is what's making me look forward to the trip to the US albeit in the midst of the festive merry-making at home. I've booked my ticket to route to San Francisco from Portland after my meetings, before heading back home. Yes, I'll be spending 3 days alone in SF, and it's my first trip to SF. Heard a lot about it, but ne'er seen it before.
I've big, adventurous plans for myself (though I haven't really quite worked out the details nor made any bookings yet). Plans to stay in cheap (hopefully tolerable - business trips always end up pampering you) hostels with other folks probably younger than I, walk around the city on foot, take cheap transportation from the airport to the city and wherever, probably rent a bike to cross the Golden Gate. Plans also to check out business opportunities there and to write an article on my experience when the trip is over. See, it's gonna be a real challenge, because I'm gonna make it a real budget trip and I'll be alone in a city where it could possibly be dangerous for an Asian chick walking around alone.
If this trip turns out good, I'll pat myself on my back. At least I'm working on my 2005 to-do list.
Gotta get back to my packing before I head out for more blackjack sessions before I head off to the airport at 4 tomorrow morning. I'm not quite good at deciding the amount of clothing to bring (because of my "in case" theory) and it's probably gonna be farkin' cold in the US.
Plan, pack, pack, plan, pack.
Packing my luggage for yet another long journey. It's no fun, after so many years, travelling to Portland for the same old meetings - it's no fun because it's always the same old city, it's always the same old long and dreary flight (I've calculated, it's 20 farkin' hours) onboard nothing less than the 'fantastic' Northwest where 'nice cheery' old aunties and grannies serve you nothing but "chicken or fish?", it's always the same old hotel, same old breakfast, same old everything. And it's not so especially fun this year because I'm flying off in about 18 hours, right in the midst of all the fun during the new year. AND... I miss Valentine's every year.
Dread, dread, dread.
I guess I shouldn't be complaining when I'm better off than a lot of folks out there who don't usually get a chance to fly to the US for business meetings every 4 months. But you would understand my frustration when you see the point that though I do get to travel to the US, I'm always in the same ONE city out of the hundreds others in the great big land. It's like, I'm always in the States, but I never really got to see the states.
So this time, I'm being a little bolder and adventurous. And this is what's making me look forward to the trip to the US albeit in the midst of the festive merry-making at home. I've booked my ticket to route to San Francisco from Portland after my meetings, before heading back home. Yes, I'll be spending 3 days alone in SF, and it's my first trip to SF. Heard a lot about it, but ne'er seen it before.
I've big, adventurous plans for myself (though I haven't really quite worked out the details nor made any bookings yet). Plans to stay in cheap (hopefully tolerable - business trips always end up pampering you) hostels with other folks probably younger than I, walk around the city on foot, take cheap transportation from the airport to the city and wherever, probably rent a bike to cross the Golden Gate. Plans also to check out business opportunities there and to write an article on my experience when the trip is over. See, it's gonna be a real challenge, because I'm gonna make it a real budget trip and I'll be alone in a city where it could possibly be dangerous for an Asian chick walking around alone.
If this trip turns out good, I'll pat myself on my back. At least I'm working on my 2005 to-do list.
Gotta get back to my packing before I head out for more blackjack sessions before I head off to the airport at 4 tomorrow morning. I'm not quite good at deciding the amount of clothing to bring (because of my "in case" theory) and it's probably gonna be farkin' cold in the US.
Plan, pack, pack, plan, pack.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Getting younger
Second day of the new year, and I'm tired. Good sign or not, this is definitely a sign of aging. I am not one of those who go around professing old age, because yes, while I do indeed grow older by the years just like all my peers and everyone else, I certainly do not think I'm old. Ok ok, approaching thirty was, and still is, a scary thought when I was much younger. I could not, and honestly still can't, imagine myself at age thirty - erm, how would I look; what would I be doing; would I be married with kids; how would I think; would I be more mature; would I have aged gracefully (though thirty isn't exactly a good age to gauge this aspect)? And when I hit the big five-o, *gasps* what kind of 'auntie' would I become?
But while I'm consciously aware that my physical self is morphing toward its thirtieth year of existence, I am also baffled, and at the same time amazed, by the way my mental and emotional self is still vibrant and sometimes seemingly young. In short, my physical being is aging faster (and more appropriately according to the passage of time) than my mental being.
I can't personally fathom why most friends always lament they are getting old, and with honest devastation sometimes. Or maybe they're just looking for reassurances like "oh no, you're not old at all" (very much like how bean-pole girls always whine about their 'fatness'). What I honestly can't stand are 25-year-olds telling me they are getting old. I'm like, WTF?
I can't say I had the time of my life when I was 25, but I can say, at my age, I definitely still think I am young. And I guess it's got to do a lot with my passions and dreams in life. I'm young because there are still 1001 things for me to conquer out there in the world. Ambitious, I may sound, but who's to doubt me? What have I accomplished in my life so far? Nothing. Not putting myself down nor sounding overly-modest. I've found my soulmate, but life has its tribulations no doubt, and the love-train doesn't often go on a smooth ride. I've got a job that everyone else envies, but I've gained nothing that enriches the meaning of my life nor gears me toward realizing my many dreams. I yearn for more because I have less. I keep thinking of the things I have yet to do in life, and I keep telling myself, I'm still young and it's never too late to get going.
Nice going, girl. Now, just get your butt off the bed.
And come to think of it, gawd, I wonder when I will have the time of my life. Maybe when I *gasps* hit my big five-o?
And honestly? I wish my aging physical being could keep up with my youthful mental being... and stop feeling so tired easily!
Ok, I'm going out to a friend's place for round two of Blackjack. It's past midnight now, but I'm well-prepared - I've taken a 6-hour nap. *Sighs*
But while I'm consciously aware that my physical self is morphing toward its thirtieth year of existence, I am also baffled, and at the same time amazed, by the way my mental and emotional self is still vibrant and sometimes seemingly young. In short, my physical being is aging faster (and more appropriately according to the passage of time) than my mental being.
I can't personally fathom why most friends always lament they are getting old, and with honest devastation sometimes. Or maybe they're just looking for reassurances like "oh no, you're not old at all" (very much like how bean-pole girls always whine about their 'fatness'). What I honestly can't stand are 25-year-olds telling me they are getting old. I'm like, WTF?
I can't say I had the time of my life when I was 25, but I can say, at my age, I definitely still think I am young. And I guess it's got to do a lot with my passions and dreams in life. I'm young because there are still 1001 things for me to conquer out there in the world. Ambitious, I may sound, but who's to doubt me? What have I accomplished in my life so far? Nothing. Not putting myself down nor sounding overly-modest. I've found my soulmate, but life has its tribulations no doubt, and the love-train doesn't often go on a smooth ride. I've got a job that everyone else envies, but I've gained nothing that enriches the meaning of my life nor gears me toward realizing my many dreams. I yearn for more because I have less. I keep thinking of the things I have yet to do in life, and I keep telling myself, I'm still young and it's never too late to get going.
Nice going, girl. Now, just get your butt off the bed.
And come to think of it, gawd, I wonder when I will have the time of my life. Maybe when I *gasps* hit my big five-o?
And honestly? I wish my aging physical being could keep up with my youthful mental being... and stop feeling so tired easily!
Ok, I'm going out to a friend's place for round two of Blackjack. It's past midnight now, but I'm well-prepared - I've taken a 6-hour nap. *Sighs*
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
New Year, New Life
It's about an hour and a half into the Lunar New Year. I've already had two reunion dinners with family and one lo-hei dinner with my softee friends, and collected two grand ang pows. The feeling of excitement on the eve as we await the clock to strike midnight has dwindled over the years since I was a little girl. But this year, I did feel a little more excited than I was in the past couple of years, because this year, the man is back... finally... to welcome the new year with me. And of course, the more exciting bit is that we can go back on our 'blackjack' rounds finally after a 2-year hiatus.
I actually ushered in the new year peacefully this year with the sweetheart, without even quite realizing the clock had already struck twelve. We would've been lousy Cinderellas, turning into pumpkins without even seeing it coming. And of all weirdest places, we were hanging out at Coffee Bean, sipping coffee/tea, talking, stoning, more talking, even more stoning, on Lunar New Year's eve when most other homely folks would be gathering chattily with friends, or watching TV with family, or playing mahjong with kakis. Yes, Holland V was expectedly quiet but not Coffee Bean. So, we weren't that abnormal after all.
But I loved it that we were spending quiet time together, just right before New Year. Though nothing was intended. I actually felt more peace and love than I ever did in the past few months. Maybe that's a good start to the New Year.
Well, a brand new year usually signifies brand new resolutions. I'm tired of thinking about resolutions because I know I never stick to them (that's why I've never really set down or commit to any one). But this year, or rather at this very moment, I'm feeling a new wave of energy all of a sudden. I'm suddenly thinking of my future, my life, my future with the sweetheart. And so, I'm thinking there are a few certain resolutions I'm going to set for myself, for real. For the sake of my future, my life and my future with the sweetheart.
For one, I'm going to spend LESS MONEY. MUCH MUCH LESS MONEY. Four years of hard work, and it's a shame I don't have much money. I'm getting very angry at myself and I hope that spurs me on.
Two, I'm going to plan my way out of my job. There are many things I wanna dabble in before I set out a long-term career but after I quit. I will quit. I know.
Three, I'm gonna sleep more. MUCH MUCH MORE. Like right now.
Happy New Year, folks.
I actually ushered in the new year peacefully this year with the sweetheart, without even quite realizing the clock had already struck twelve. We would've been lousy Cinderellas, turning into pumpkins without even seeing it coming. And of all weirdest places, we were hanging out at Coffee Bean, sipping coffee/tea, talking, stoning, more talking, even more stoning, on Lunar New Year's eve when most other homely folks would be gathering chattily with friends, or watching TV with family, or playing mahjong with kakis. Yes, Holland V was expectedly quiet but not Coffee Bean. So, we weren't that abnormal after all.
But I loved it that we were spending quiet time together, just right before New Year. Though nothing was intended. I actually felt more peace and love than I ever did in the past few months. Maybe that's a good start to the New Year.
Well, a brand new year usually signifies brand new resolutions. I'm tired of thinking about resolutions because I know I never stick to them (that's why I've never really set down or commit to any one). But this year, or rather at this very moment, I'm feeling a new wave of energy all of a sudden. I'm suddenly thinking of my future, my life, my future with the sweetheart. And so, I'm thinking there are a few certain resolutions I'm going to set for myself, for real. For the sake of my future, my life and my future with the sweetheart.
For one, I'm going to spend LESS MONEY. MUCH MUCH LESS MONEY. Four years of hard work, and it's a shame I don't have much money. I'm getting very angry at myself and I hope that spurs me on.
Two, I'm going to plan my way out of my job. There are many things I wanna dabble in before I set out a long-term career but after I quit. I will quit. I know.
Three, I'm gonna sleep more. MUCH MUCH MORE. Like right now.
Happy New Year, folks.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Party-chip
All you party animals out there, be envious of the folks in Glasglow.
Some smarty club is introducing a microchip to be stuffed into your arm, but that will replace your cash or cards. Can you just imagine the wonders of it: no more queues, bartenders knowing you and your favorite orders, no need to carry a wallet or purse for the girls? That is the best bit for me, someone who doesn't like to carry a girly purse to clubs, who doesn't like to keep wondering where I can 'store' my purse safely, and who definitely doesn't like to dance with a purse clutched under my arm.
Wow wee. When will we get this in Singapore?
Some smarty club is introducing a microchip to be stuffed into your arm, but that will replace your cash or cards. Can you just imagine the wonders of it: no more queues, bartenders knowing you and your favorite orders, no need to carry a wallet or purse for the girls? That is the best bit for me, someone who doesn't like to carry a girly purse to clubs, who doesn't like to keep wondering where I can 'store' my purse safely, and who definitely doesn't like to dance with a purse clutched under my arm.
Wow wee. When will we get this in Singapore?
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Day without my car
I am so addicted to my wheels, I can't imagine my life without it. I would have permanent backache or even worse, a crooked back because I would have to tote my big bag around everywhere everyday. And why would I always carry a big heavy bag, and not a cutesy little girly handbag, everyday? Because I'm Singaporean and I make too much allowance in my bag for 'emergencies' - 2 books and a magazine (in case I end up having free time and have nothing to do in a cafe); my diary and pda (in case I need to check on my calendar); the few 'essential' wires/adapters/chargers (in case I need to upload something or my camera runs out of battery); my big chunky camera (in case I see something exciting on the streets that I absolutely need to snap... for something useful in future); my makeup pouch complete with blush, curler, mascara, lipglosses, lipsticks, tweezer (in case the boyfriend calls me up for an unplanned-for dinner); my 'other' pouch that contains my hairbrush, mirror, blotting tissue, an extra small wallet, more glosses, extra mints (in case, in case, in case...); at least 3 packets of tissue (in case I unexpectedly get some bad tummy and the tissue runs out fast); and of course, my laptop (in case I end up at some wired up cafe and have time to chat with friends or surf the net... like right now).
What the hell???
My load probably weighs a good quarter of my skinny frame, and none of my friends would like to offer their help to hold my bag for me. I probably use only a third of the stuff I carry in my bag everyday, but I can never bear to clear the unused out. I shall not try further.
Without my wheels, I probably would be termed a 'no-life'. I would dread having to travel the way I do now - commute from one end of Singapore to the other for work, pop by Borders after work/before appointments just to hang out there, meet friends for dinner/drinks, pick up the boyfriend. Without my wheels, I would only want to drag my two feet and one heavy load straight home.
Without my wheels, I probably would grow fatter (even though the extra walking might just keep the pounds away) and much less fit because I would dread going for basketball trainings, meeting buddies for a run in East Coast or Sentosa or MacRitchie.
Without my wheels, I wouldn't be able to bring my girls out for swims in Sentosa, walks in Botanical Gardens, rendevous with their 3 boyfriends at Auntie Wei-lyn's place. They would also have 'no life', poor girls.
Without my wheels, I would not be able to spend precious little quality time with the boyfriend, picking him up, sending him to work, going on mindless driving spins.
Without my wheels, I would be much richer though. But I'd rather spent that money on my wheels if I get more out of life than without it.
Everytime I need to send my car for a check-up at the workshop, I get thrilled (initially) at the thought of having to take the public transportation - "wow, so long never take train, I sure miss it man." But I always end up feeling regretful having to send my car for a check-up.
People who commute on public transport somehow irritate me. Well, not everyone, to be fair. But there will definitely be some idiot who simply spoils my day - talking on the phone too loud, playing childish pranks, having bad body odor and not realizing it, grabbing seats like there's no one else who might need it more, weird people, rude people. I could never sleep peacefully on a train ride, like I used to. Or perhaps, I'm just too 'spoiled' now.
I am just so glad to pick up my ford baby again at the end of the today.
What the hell???
My load probably weighs a good quarter of my skinny frame, and none of my friends would like to offer their help to hold my bag for me. I probably use only a third of the stuff I carry in my bag everyday, but I can never bear to clear the unused out. I shall not try further.
Without my wheels, I probably would be termed a 'no-life'. I would dread having to travel the way I do now - commute from one end of Singapore to the other for work, pop by Borders after work/before appointments just to hang out there, meet friends for dinner/drinks, pick up the boyfriend. Without my wheels, I would only want to drag my two feet and one heavy load straight home.
Without my wheels, I probably would grow fatter (even though the extra walking might just keep the pounds away) and much less fit because I would dread going for basketball trainings, meeting buddies for a run in East Coast or Sentosa or MacRitchie.
Without my wheels, I wouldn't be able to bring my girls out for swims in Sentosa, walks in Botanical Gardens, rendevous with their 3 boyfriends at Auntie Wei-lyn's place. They would also have 'no life', poor girls.
Without my wheels, I would not be able to spend precious little quality time with the boyfriend, picking him up, sending him to work, going on mindless driving spins.
Without my wheels, I would be much richer though. But I'd rather spent that money on my wheels if I get more out of life than without it.
Everytime I need to send my car for a check-up at the workshop, I get thrilled (initially) at the thought of having to take the public transportation - "wow, so long never take train, I sure miss it man." But I always end up feeling regretful having to send my car for a check-up.
People who commute on public transport somehow irritate me. Well, not everyone, to be fair. But there will definitely be some idiot who simply spoils my day - talking on the phone too loud, playing childish pranks, having bad body odor and not realizing it, grabbing seats like there's no one else who might need it more, weird people, rude people. I could never sleep peacefully on a train ride, like I used to. Or perhaps, I'm just too 'spoiled' now.
I am just so glad to pick up my ford baby again at the end of the today.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Bushfire!
I was driving home late the other night along AYE, when I noticed the electronic signboards along the highway read: "BUSHFIRE ON CENTER MEDIAN. PLS DRIVE CAREFULLY" (or something like that).
Zombified as I already was, I couldn't help feeling tickled. Bushfire? In Singapore? HAhaha. Almost immediately, I became alert, sat upright, eyes wide open, looking out for some major bushfire along the highway at 3am in the morning. But not only did I not see any wild dancing flames, as I'd expected to, there wasn't even any 'botak' burnt-up bush in sight. And to be very sure, I even drove back along the same way the next day, eyes fixed on the 'bushes' along the 'center median'. But nope, no burnt bush. Very disappointed, I was.
Then last evening, I was driving home from work, this time along PIE, when suddenly the traffic halted to a slow crawl. Soon after some wrongful cussing and swearing, I realized the traffic on the right lane had slowed down because there were two fire-bikes parked along the 'center median'. And right next to the bikes were two fire-fighters, who, from what I could tell as I drove past, looked like they were putting out a fire out of a watering can. Yes, they were putting out fire on a small little shrub as tall as my knee cap. Yes, another bushfire!
I suppose there's really no other word in Webster that could describe it, but in a small, urbanized city that is the size of Singapore, lacking of mountains, rivers and forests, 'bushfire' is really inaptly termed. How about "shrubfire"? I bet the angmohs must've lost their heads laughing too hard, or they must've had thought, "there goes poor MacRitchie".
Zombified as I already was, I couldn't help feeling tickled. Bushfire? In Singapore? HAhaha. Almost immediately, I became alert, sat upright, eyes wide open, looking out for some major bushfire along the highway at 3am in the morning. But not only did I not see any wild dancing flames, as I'd expected to, there wasn't even any 'botak' burnt-up bush in sight. And to be very sure, I even drove back along the same way the next day, eyes fixed on the 'bushes' along the 'center median'. But nope, no burnt bush. Very disappointed, I was.
Then last evening, I was driving home from work, this time along PIE, when suddenly the traffic halted to a slow crawl. Soon after some wrongful cussing and swearing, I realized the traffic on the right lane had slowed down because there were two fire-bikes parked along the 'center median'. And right next to the bikes were two fire-fighters, who, from what I could tell as I drove past, looked like they were putting out a fire out of a watering can. Yes, they were putting out fire on a small little shrub as tall as my knee cap. Yes, another bushfire!
I suppose there's really no other word in Webster that could describe it, but in a small, urbanized city that is the size of Singapore, lacking of mountains, rivers and forests, 'bushfire' is really inaptly termed. How about "shrubfire"? I bet the angmohs must've lost their heads laughing too hard, or they must've had thought, "there goes poor MacRitchie".
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