I swear this is worse than giving birth
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Not that I've tried giving birth yet.
Well it is an analogy to the pain I felt (and am still feeling) these few days. Ahhhhhhhhh the agony of food poisoning... Don't ask me what the hell I ate, I can't remember either. Perhaps my stomach has been severely weakened and cannot take the tiniest bits of bad bacteria.
I've been sleeping consecutively since Monday night and it feels like an eternity of sleep which I might not wake up from. Now that was scary, but I discovered only last night that I was possibly feverish for a whole day and night and did not know, which explains the dizzy spells and migraines.
Anyhow I suffered the pain of having stomach cramps (not the period kind, but probably worse than that, the girls would know), and having waves of urges to vomit simultaneously. Eventually I did vomit a few times before I decided that I couldn't endure one night on this, so I asked my dad to rush me to A & E.
Argh if I weren't writhing in pain, I would scolded them there and then for making me wait a full two hours just to give me the jabs (two) and my medicine so I could go home and sleep. I only realised the next day that the medicine wasn't really enough and that they and I both underestimated the seriousness of my condition. The difference between me and them is that they are trained professionals and are paid to do so whereas I'm this poor struggling student who just wants to bloody get treated so I can sleep properly. And they couldn't do a simple thing like tell me I have fever or something, god! Those incompetent nincompoops! (think Dr Eggman from "Sonic the Hedgehog" scolding here ha)
Now I'm left with the stomachache, which I really hope will go away soon. It's really irritating having to live a life of flatulence hur hur.
3:52 pm
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One hell of a sleepy semester
Saturday, January 27, 2007
I know my last semester has kicked off and I haven't been writing much as of late, but that's no excuse for slacking off. I apologise for my (serious) lack of posts. Ever since the spate of 9am classes (which is still ongoing now), my life has been governed by my bed. Yessss... my beautiful, comfortable, to-die-for bed and warm quilt, coupled with the rainy and grey skies, which gives me more reason to surrender wholeheartedly to them.
Ugh, I really detest 9am classes, mainly because I have to wake up at the unearthly hour of six-ish, when the sun is not even up yet, and then as I struggle through the 3-hour long seminars (groan), I have to be awake enough to connect what my ears hear to my brain to my mouth, and cross my fingers and hope that what I said made sense. I'm already slow to situational performances as it is, but with lethargy, I am completely unable to react to anything anyone darts at me.
So now I have become a zombie hungering for my much needed sleep, and if any of you see me around in school or anywhere and I don't say "Hi" or anything, it's because I'm still in dreamland. And if I have a sulky/angry look, it's because I
really need sleep. Mandy has this theory that I look exactly the same when I'm sleepy/angry/bored/hungry, which probably translates to a lacklustre appearance I think. So if you're trying to read me, I'm probably suffering from one of the above, and chances are quite high that I'm sleepy most of the time.
On another note, live bands/music (or rather live theatre/musicals... live anything) are the best things in the world. And no, I'm not turning into a groupie or anything, but I have a tendency to temporarily heart the performer at a live gig, for as long as his/her song lasts. Obviously the pitch has to be of a certain standard, otherwise it turns into noise, which then becomes er.. not very tolerable.
And yes, back to the topic after digressing a bit, this is going to be one hell of a sleepy semester.
5:04 pm
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El Laberinto del Fauno
Sunday, January 14, 2007
"A long time ago, in the Underground Realm, there lived a princess who dreamt of the human world..."
I caught this film today (in English, the title is
Pan's Labyrinth), it's a fantasy/thriller/drama type genre film in Spanish, and I was absoultely in awe of its interweaving storylines, the special effects like animation, the plot and intense suspenseful moments the film sometimes erupts into.
I was simply sucked into this fairytale world and couldn't tell the real from the supernatural. Well, of course it didn't help that the plot interweaved with the many fairytales we grew up with but in distorted versions. The protagonist was a girl of ten, so I became a girl of ten, looking and feeling through her eyes. I winced when the monster guarding the big feast came stomping after her and held my breath as she managed to escape through the roof without getting one of her legs pulled by it, as they do in horror films. I was worried when blood-like streaks suddenly appeared on the blank pages in her magic book,
The Book of Crossroads, signalling something ominous.
The entire film was as its title suggests: a labyrinth of stories, interwoven, story within story, fairytale within fairytale, legend within legend, and then everything gets mixed up... stories within fairytales within legends. The order of which was first within which didn't matter already, because it had become a maze, or several mazes in fact, dictated by
The Book of Crossroads. The question of "which came first, the chicken or the egg?" popped up in my head. Which came first? Ofelia or the Princess Moanna? Who dreamt of who first? Perhaps they were going in circles and continue to do so eternally.
Which is real? Life or fairytales? Are fairytales a part of life or is life a part of fairytales? As Ofelia's mother tells her agitatedly: "life is not like fairytales," but she doesn't believe. Neither do we, the viewers. How can we not believe, when we've seen
Alice in Wonderland with
The Princess and the Toad with
Hansel and Gretel with
The Moon Lady and many other fairytales and various folktales meshed into a few stories interwoven into one film?
The Book of Crossroads is wrong about something. It does not show Ofelia's future. It shows her the various paths she can take, but it doesn't decide what she does eventually. And ultimately, Ofelia gives up the book for the Faun's instructions but even so, she decides not to spill her brother's innocent blood in order to regain her title as Princess. She loses her fairytale status in a human act and yet she doesn't, because kindness and goodness exist especially at the fairytale level, therefore she forsakes her mortal anguished body for an eternal happy-ever-after soul in her fairy realm.
At the end, she gains her rightful place as Princess of the underground realm, yet the humans mourn for the loss of her mortal body in a highly intense emotional moment. Why I feel sad by the loss of her mortal life is something I myself cannot understand. Why does the knowledge that she has become Princess of her own world not soothe or completely comfort me in the loss of her mortal life? The end has such a mixed feeling that I end up mourning for her suffering human life instead of rejoicing for her eternal kind soul.
8:21 pm
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"To thine own self be true"
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
From time to time, I experience a condition called "schizoprenia." And don't worry, I mean it in the sense that one of my lecturers gave: "a kind of dislocation of time-space consciousness, a failure of logic, a corresponding crisis of identity/consciousness."
This crisis doesn't come very often, perhaps once in a a few months? Few years? I don't know, I've lost track or can't seem to remember, but when it does come, I become unnaturally obsessed with one thing or another, like a new sport, new aspect of art, new drama or something like that... something that keeps me going and yet keeps me far from thinking logically about what I should be doing, should do instead of escaping so conveniently. And I hate to see it end, it's just too depressing.
If people start to tell me "to be true to yourself" or "just be yourself" or "just act naturally," I wonder what the hell that is all about. True to myself? Which self? Which of my many selves do you mean I should be true to? Doesn't the self evolve as one grows up? Does it stay continuous and permanent throughout my lifetime? In fact, sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Grow up, study, finish studying, time to work and the list goes on. What is this "me" I am seeking? Am I seeking it in the right direction? Is there a right direction for seeking the self? What does it really want? What do I really want from it?
Sure, there are times I think: this is so me. But how long can that moment last before I refute it and turn it 360 degrees around and protest that it isn't me? Perhaps I'm trying very hard to mould myself in somebody else for some reason or other, or perhaps I'm like chameleon, changeable and adaptable to my surroundings, but then how does that make me
me? Or maybe being a chameleon means leaching onto other people's selves, that I try to define myself by the boundaries of my friends' selves. I don't know which is scarier - not having a fixed self or not having any at all.
Something is missing in my life, I just don't know what it is yet.
1:00 am
クロサギ
Feeling emo about my old girl of a car
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Everytime the day before the first of school comes, I suddenly realise I have a million and one things to do: room not packed, books not read, videos not watched, things I've-always-wanted-to-do-but-have-no-time-to-do not done... and as Pussy has reminded me, it's already 2 weeks since the Spain and Portugal trip and I have not uploaded the darn photos online. Ugh.. Can I please have more time?
Also, I've been feeling a little down about my old girl of a car. I thought the bang wasn't that bad, little did I know she was old and too expensive to fix already. In fact, her scrap value is worth more than her repair costs. MY CAR!!!! It has always been a part of me, only I hadn't realised until recently how much she meant to me. Yup, don't mind me, I'm just feeling a little emo about this old girl of mine. I never thought she won't wake from the deep sleep of hers, and I used to think that machines were just that, they would always get repaired and they will always work eventually.
But the thought of never being able to drive her again makes me rather depressed. She's the first car I had driven after I had gotten my licence and had taken all the hard knocks of abuse I had subjected her to. For three years, we worked together and shared grief from past accidents (no matter how minor) together, and I always thought of her as a strong sturdy car who will never let me down. In fact, she hasn't, but I guess that this time round, the bang was too harsh on her. It was instant death and she couldn't recuperate on the spot for me to drive her off. She had to be towed away. I didn't even watch her get towed away. I didn't think I would never see her again, but now there's a high possibility that I won't get to drive her again.
Of course, my mother's not very pleased about it. We could have used her for another good 3 or 4 more years before sending her to dumps, but now, it's like execution for a crime she never committed.
Perhaps as a consolation, not having the car for a while means I won't be obliged to drive anyone home (not that I resent it or anything), although it also means a good amount of inconvenience on my side as well. Taxis are a whole load waste of money plus the drivers are bad and hazardous.
6:31 pm
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My life is damn happening la
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
The new year started with a bang - literally, on two separate accounts. But before that, I must narrate the pre-new year goodies I was bestowed with the minute I arrived back home.
"5k or bag?"That was the question my mother posed to me the day after we landed at Changi airport and discovered lo and behold that my super heavy bright red luggage was not circulating around the baggage belt and was therefore deemed missing. Yes yes, you can just imagine me flustered holding the "WTF" sign in capital letters no less.
That was when my father discovered that the airline/airport was liable to pay up to 500 bucks for my missing luggage and what's more, the insurance claim was up to 5k for the same thing. So my answer to the question? I just wanted my bag and all my emotional attachments to it and the things inside it.
Of course, my mother was just teasing (at least for the second time she asked) because the luggage was already delivered to our house by the time she asked. As for the first time she asked, I really wasn't sure because we were on a different topic altogether on the phone: something about the petrol and stuff when she suddenly popped the question "5k or bag?" I was really taken aback and I thought she really meant it. But now on hindsight, perhaps she did ha, I could never be sure what goes on in her mind.
2007 started with two bangsRight, let's move on to this year's stuff. I celebrated New Year's eve with the taitee gang I met during the Spain and Portugal tour, because it was a case of rendezvous. Everytime one of its members, Mr East side, wanted a countdown e.g. Christmas, Boxing Day, we never got to it. We were always too late or too distracted by taitee. I believe it's more of the latter than the former hur hur.
So this time, he suggested that we go to Mount Faber for a wonderful experience of snow and fireworks, to which the rest of us were like "huh?! Wth?!" Nevertheless we went and were caught in the car jam all the way to the top. Fortunately, we reached the top just as midnight struck and turned crazy. All of us got out of the car in less than 2 seconds just to watch the fireworks. It was breathtaking. I've never been this close to the moving lights, enough to breathe their exhaust, or to feel slightly threatened by the loud bangs made by them. In the end, even without the (fake) snow, we felt somewhat satisfied by the real fireworks.
The Second bangYup, this happened on the first day of the year again, after I had slept and woke up and for some reason, I shuddered at the thought of driving somewhere that day. It felt ominous, like I should not touch the car, at least for the day.
Of course, in the end I did, and nothing happened until I decided to pump petrol at the kiosk. And the minute I left, that's when the second bang occurred. It was loud and it hit me (hello, metaphorically la) immediately. The next few hours were a blur. Nobody was injured but I didn't want to do anything. I was just shocked.
Good thing my parents came and I recovered and could even make a joke out of it. "Go and buy 4D using my car number ha, sure
zhong one." And so, the taitee gang commanded Pussy to buy 4D for us, the winnings will go to paying for our chilli crabs bill. Pussy obeyed our orders and bought 12 permutations of the 4 numbers. HAHA.
So I concluded that my life is damn happening
la.
4:26 pm
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