Too busy to go running. :(

If all you have in your hand is a hammer, the world looks like a nail.

What you've taught me, and what I've inferred from our quarrels.
That no opinion is insignificant, cos all opinions reflect one's outlook on life.
That we have to justify our opinions, cos opinions govern our integrity.
That running away is not a solution.

Happy birthday to my best friend. :)

I didn't expect it but we quarrelled today too. You didn't like the hit-and-run aspect of me which gives opinions without further thought and challenged it. My instinct to avoid confrontational arguments is strong, but I found out that being with you is slowly changing the way I think and behave.

Escapism doesn't cut it with you, and as fate would have it, I happen to be the magician's vanishing assistant.

I'm the most antsy person you know, and you're the most bad tempered person I know. Sooner or later, it's inevitable we'd quarrel and well, yesterday we did. When we made up, I think we had understood each other a little bit better. And I realised that I shouldn't take your presence for granted, cos there could have been no you to quarrel with.

By a strange twist of fate, you came back to stay after all. Since this is a new turn of events, I've not really grasped the implications. I'm just simply glad.

My turn to say sorry to da mouse. I wish I could say my reason was stupid urgent work.

Started watching Postcards from the Edge half suspecting that I've seen it before but I couldn't be sure, so I was all set to stop at any time. In fact I think I have, but I enjoyed it so much I watched it all the way again. I've forgotten Meryl Streep had a good voice till she sang Ray Charles' You Don't Know Me in the movie.

I need to devote more time back to reading.

Still feeling frustrated and helpless about news of an acquaintance's grave illness. Wanted to run tonight after work but I could only do so outdoors cos it's too far from my customer's to my gym. Sky looked quite dark and overcast, and I wondered briefly if it would rain. Without even so much as a glance, mum just stated firmly it would and I shouldn't go running. Somehow I got riled up cos strange as it sounds, it felt like she's putting me down. So I thought damn it, I'm going to run anyway and I went. It didn't rain after all, but I couldn't put my heart into running. There was no joy in it.

And I came home still upset and fucked up.

An old Friday Five, cos I've never answered one before.

1. Is the name you have now the same name that's on your birth certificate? If not, what's changed?

It's still the same except I go by my Hanyu Pinyin initials, and I've often been questioned about them. Don't ask.

2. If you could change your name (first, middle and/or last), what would it be?

Nothing. I don't think changing my name can change me, so why bother?

3. Why were you named what you were? (Is there a story behind it? Who specifically was responsible for naming you?)

My mum named me and she only had leeway with the second chinese character of my name (since the first chinese character had to be the same as all the family womenfolk born in my generation, and the surname/ last name is of cos static). She didn't give me a pretty name for beauty or grace though. She chose nobility of character and in fact, it's quite a masculine name.

4. Are there any names you really hate or love? What are they and why?

Barbara. Don't know any Barabara's personally but absolutely detest the name. Why? It conveys an old world reserved attitude I can't stand. Have never owned any Barbie dolls either.

5. Is the analysis of your name at kabalarians.com/triggur.org/astroexpert accurate? How or how isn't it?

Too lazy to check.

And now it's time to go earn my living.

Enough enough enough. Today is like a Friday the 13th intensified. Swarmed by bad news after bad news, too overwhelmed to exercise self-restraint. Tomorrow I will be a cool cucumber. NO. The second after I post this I will be a cool cucumber.

I brought my home laptop to the service centre and got a new battery after all. Though it's more convenient to get my laptop couriered back for servicing, the thought of doing without it for a couple of days is too much to bear. I was stranded at the customer's whole of today again without email or internet access, so I'm over-compensating now by being online right after dinner, still in my office attire. Talk about net addiction. Also addicted to the teh tarik from the vending machine at my customer's, but it's over too soon cos I could finish a cup in a few gulps. Oh well, more cups of that tomorrow.

Ran 6.4km outdoors tonight and wrapped up watching The Filth and the Fury, the Sex Pistols film. Didn't care much for their music but couldn't help feeling sad for what happened to them.

Support the Japanese Film Festival! 26 Sep till 5 Oct.

Today I watched a film in which everyone in it is dead. After Life has a brilliant premise where the newly deceased is given 3 days to choose one memory to relive for all eternity, and everything else will be forgotten.

I'm not sure I know what to choose.

Without me explaining, you already understood my fundamental lack of instinct. You knew I'll buy chewing gum rather than bubble gum cos I won't be able to blow bubbles. And you knew I'll choose yoyo ball over yoyo, for the same reason. I never mentioned how therapeutic it feels to walk along the streets listening to my Discman and swinging a yoyo ball. I'll swing the yoyo ball in wide circles that sweep dangerously close to the ground, rather than just bounce it up and down like a yoyo.

I did that again today, and it helped.

My thinkpad battery doesn't seem to be charging anymore. Damn. No time to exchange it. The battery in your cat face watch seems to have run out too.

If birds in flight go unburdened by names, let my memories be free of dates.
- Haruki Murakami

Lazy afternoon tea with my UK travelmate. Reconfirmed that the definition of accident is 1. violent; 2. visible; 3. external; and 4. accidental. Protested that it's an oxymoron to define an accident as accidental.. it's like defining an idiot as idiotic. However this seems to be a standard definition. Hmm. Along the way, the Bangles' song Eternal Flame started playing on the sound system and my UK travelmate enthused that she knew how to do sign language to the lyrics of this song. And then she laughed and proceeded to do just that. lol.

Afterwards we dropped by a toy store where I bought a Hakoton toy monkey. Supposed to tap out simple rhythms for the toy monkey to follow suit and drum with its bananas. Mused about the monkey learning drum & bass but doubt it.

Saturday night. Watched the Liverpool vs Leicester match at a pub with the guys but wasn't really paying attention. Ended up at supper with b12. Asked him if he sleeps with a bolster, cos I haven't done so in years but now I've started again, I felt more grounded hugging one to sleep. Then b12 grinned and said I reminded him of an electrical appliance which needs to be grounded.

Sunday morning. Not going for the Terry Fox run. Just out of bed and chatting online with a friend. He commented that it'd be good to have a job to watch movies or listen to music. My take was I wouldn't like that, cos that meant I wouldn't be able to walk out on crap movies or music. And there's definitely too many of those.

Friday night. Ate sushi. Bought a tiny wraparound skirt. Sat on the ledge outside Borders, and ate strawberry cheesecake blizzards with my odd girlfriends. My US travelmate is currently reading a book entitled Male on Male Rape, while my UK travelmate can give the technical definition of an accident (1. violent; 2. visible; and frankly I forgot what else) and how being bitten by a mosquito can be qualified as an accident.

Beautiful start to a weekend.

About Murakami. A friend commented that though we read english translations of Murakami by different people, we still can tell his distinctive style. Isn't it odd we can't tell the translations are done by different folks? He's got a point there you know. Unless the translators take it upon themselves to read one another's translations, and somehow assimilate a common style?

Another wonderful story from Haruki Murakami called On seeing the 100% Perfect Girl one beautiful April morning. About passing a stranger -whom you feel is your perfect match- along the street, and wondering if you should stop that someone, and if so, what you could say.

The site I stumbled upon today: Secret messages for kids.
Hohoho. Something to encode office emails in when communicating deviant thoughts.

People change and forget to tell each other.
- Lillian Hellman

Ran 10km (exactly 9.92km, 7th time) this time to Sneaker Pimps' Superbug.

Went to the library before gym and borrowed Ethan Hawke's Ash Wednesday and Paula Fox's Desperate Characters. Jonathan Franzen was so in love with the book Desperate Characters that he read it at least 6 to 7 times. But aren't there too many books to read to waste so much time on one?

Currently reading Haruki Murakami's collection of short stories entitled The Elephant Vanishes. One of the short stories is called The Second Bakery Attack, and it described a pair of hungry newly-weds with nothing in the house to eat. Then the husband recalled that he and a friend were so hungry in their youth that they attempted to rob a bakery for bread. Not money, but bread. But the attack was foiled by the bakery owner, who offered to give them the bread if they would sit and listen to a whole Wagner album. So they did, to avoid committing a crime. But this foiled attack seemed like a blot on the husband's life, like a curse. And when the wife heard this story, she decided they had to rob bread from a bakery -this time for real- so this curse could be removed.

Somehow I understand what the wife meant.

It's been a while since I've last asked anyone to tell me something I don't know.

When one man, for whatever reason, has the opportunity to lead an extraordinary life, he has the right to keep it to himself.
- Jacques-Yves Cousteau

Lazy Sunday morning waiting for you to call for lunch. You still have a bad stomach and ate very little yesterday. I've given you your farewell presents but your imminent departure feels surreal. I'll tackle another DVD while I wait, and I wish there are more of these mornings.

106th film is the Beatles' Yellow Submarine. Always have a soft spot for music-theme films, especially if it's animation as well.

Woke up this morning to watch my 105th film this year. It's David Byrne's True Stories, about wacky people staying in Virgil, Texas. Plugged in earphones on my laptop while watching, and hugged the dog bolster throughout. Love it, quite a fun break from the moody art flicks I've watched recently. Maybe I should start listening to Talking Heads' music.

I just found out a film-fanatic friend has a copy of Orson Welles' Citizen Kane but has never seen it yet. Though he knows this has consistently been rated the top all-time film by critics, he's bidding his time till he's ready to watch it.

But how do you know when you're ready? And will you feel disappointed afterwards?
To be frank, Citizen Kane doesn't do much for me. But I only know cos I've seen it.

I went to have my hair trimmed anyway though I wanted to hold out till you're gone. I wanted to have a haircut as therapy then but it's getting messy now. Guess I may just have to colour it or something when the time comes round.

Yes, I'm afraid I'm counting down.

You came to see me on my birthday though you fell ill. I made you go to the doctor's and we found you've got stomach flu. You were so nauseous you could hardly eat anything; it was the first time I ate more than you. Yet you kept me company despite this. We didn't really go anywhere or do anything, but this is by far the best birthday I've had in years.

We saw the moon and Mars side by side last night, radiating a beautiful huge halo all round them. We didn't have a camera powerful enough to capture it, so it's just your memory and mine.

You know, I'd be fine when you leave. Or I'd try to be. There's always your memory and mine.

Christmas came early this year and decided to park on my birthday.

A red dog-shaped bolster wearing a dog-bone pendant, your GbV T-shirt and favourite cologne.
A fistful of colourful drinking straws for me to gnaw on.
A wooden stand with my name.
A light green yoyo ball which emits flashes of light upon impact.
Yann Martel's book Life of Pi.
Nitin Sawnhey's album Human.
An elephant chocolate candy.
A cat face watch.
And a huge towel to wrap everything in with clothes pegs.

For 3 days, you just kept looking for presents. I love everything but you didn't need to.
I'm just glad to have your company.

Sunday, on the second floor of BK at Holland V. My UK travelmate had recently learnt how to fold an origami frog. Her colleagues and her learnt one lunchtime by unravelling an existing origami frog and retracing the steps. She folded one on a $2 bill and I copied her folds on another. Mine was a bit lopsided, but the first thing I ever folded besides paper planes and stars.

Last night, after meeting you. I asked you for a $2 bill, eager to show off my new trick. I thought it would be a surprise since we've never discussed origami or such. I started creasing the corners of the note and asked if you knew what I was going to make. You looked over and said, "Could it be a little frog?". I stopped, stumped. Then suspicious, I handed you the not-yet-folded $2 bill and asked if you knew how. You grinned and started folding the note under the table. I craned to see but you wouldn't let me. When you were finally done, you placed the origami frog on the table and made it jump real high. I took out my origami frog from my wallet and compared it with yours. Mine's more streamlined but yours had more folds to propel it in jumps. In the end, I kept your frog instead and you took mine.

Then you gave me that armload of presents, and asked me to look out for my birthday card cos it's the smallest and hardest thing to find. I looked everywhere but kept missing it, so finally you hinted at its location. And then I saw it was a tiny little origami frog too. You folded it by some freaky coincidence, before you knew I wanted to show you. You could also fold planes, T-shirts, hearts and cranes but somehow you chose to fold me a frog.

I like the grainy slightly out-of-focus shots taken by my new mobile phone. Everything in them looks somewhat displaced, as if they're Polaroids from a dream.

3 women (both travelmates and I)
2 beers (I abstained since it's only Monday but the girls had no such qualms)
a Caesar's salad (over which we playfully fought; on hindsight I can't really believe I fought to eat more veges)
a Calamari starter (which I ate yesterday too, at the same restaurant)
a Be@rbrick (Red cross Denmark Flag from series 6, thanks Dave!)
3 pizzas named:
- Quinta (black truffle with runny egg)
- Olivia (we thought of other possible 'O' names for pizzas. UK travelmate outdid herself by suggesting Ova [pizza with all sorts of eggs] and Osama [which US travelmate quipped would definitely not have bacon]. We laughed uproariously and were most unladylike. As usual, I panicked about showing my face at the restaurant ever again)
- Vera (sweet hot pizza with banana slices)
a dessert named Traviata (amaretto and ice-cream, that's all we can remember)

We ate more than we did for a long while and hooted with laughter every other instant.
Thank you! :)

Folks, thanks for Franca and Laura! Tomorrow night it'll be Olivia and Quinta, and I've already tried Sofia. After that it's 21 more pizzas to go!

I deleted a post -something I don't normally do- despite there already being a comment. I read it again and didn't want the melodrama it evoked.

It's the weekend. I'm alive, healthy, and free to do what I like. Met friends yesterday, will meet them today and tomorrow. Ran. Ate junk (ice-cream, chocolate) and my quota of veges. Watched DVDs. Read. Wrote. Sampled music.

Grateful.

In an amazing test of patience, I also finished watching The Seventh Seal. Bergman is your favourite director, and you admitted wryly that compared to this film, his Wild Strawberries would have been more upbeat. Well, I preferred The Seventh Seal though. Maybe this is partly why you play chess?

Within 24 hours of you watching Juliet of the Spirits, I watched it too. I prefer Fellini's 8 1/2, but there's a poem quoted in Juliet of the Spirits which I like.

No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
No one knew that you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.

A thousand Persian ponies fell asleep
in the moonlit plaza of your forehead,
while through four nights I embraced
your waist, enemy of the snow.

Between plaster and jasmines, your glance
was a pale branch of seeds.
I sought in my heart to give you
the ivory letters that say always,

always, always: garden of my agony,
your body elusive always,
the blood of your veins in my mouth,
your mouth already lightless for my death.
- Federico Garcia Lorca, Gacela of Unforseen Love

Lovely.

Became a member of the Esplanade library finally. Borrowed Fellini's Juliet of the Spirits, Welles' Touch of Evil, Bergman's Seventh Seal and Dassin's Rififi. How is it possible to finish watching these in a week? And now I can borrow up to 8 books at a time too!

Tonight I shall tackle the pile.

Lazy morning. I'm typing at my laptop, just out of bed, not even washed up. Everything will be in slow motion till you wake up and call.

Ran another 10km (exactly 9.93km, 6th time) this time to Humpback Oak's Crow. Met you after and we detoured around looking for food for me. Ended up eating seafood kway teow at Paris Ris and I experimented taking a pic of us together with my new mobile phone. It's our first attempt to be in a photo together but the mobile phone has limited capabilities and the light was behind us. Then we tried on your mobile phone (which is actually the same model) with the light before us but the outcome was fuzzy too. So I chose the shot done on mine and infrared beamed it to you.

In the pic you looked quieter, a muted version inching me slightly out of frame.

If only I may grow: firmer, simpler, quieter, warmer.
- Dag Hammarskjold, Nobel laureate (1905-1961)