Too much to blog about today. Watched My Life as McDull on DVD. Finished reading Feather Boy. Visited the National Library before its final closure. Met new folks for dinner. But what's on my mind now is actually a squirrel. To be precise, a dead squirrel. On the way from the National Library back to the Fort Canning car park, we chanced upon a cat chasing and catching a squirrel. I ran up and stamped my foot near the cat, freezing both captor and captive. Then they ran into the grass, and you went in after to try and separate them. It was pretty hopeless. The squirrel gave a final squeal and then laid motionless in the jaws of the cat. Stunned, we stood and watched the cat walk away with its prize.

Ironically, this is the first time I've seen death firsthand.

I woke this morning to find a sms from you. Complete silence for over 3 months and then when I least expect it, a short message to warn me where you'll be tonight, in case I happen to be at the same place. And I thought oh how considerate, and promptly deleted the sms. I won't be there actually, cos I hadn't planned to go.

You're still referred to as You in this blog cos you're the most recent You. So if we need to name you by following da mouse's trend of naming people after the first movie he's seen with them, you'll be Far from Heaven for me. lol. But it makes sense in a strange way since Icarus fell from the skies didn't he?

So have fun tonight Icarus. I won't be seeing you.

"In a time that was yesterday and tomorrow and eternally present," says Catherine suddenly, "there lived a prince who had been silent for as long as anyone could remember... his mother the Queen was heartbroken at her son's muteness and the King heartbroken at his wife's grief. So, it was that, on the Prince's eighteenth birthday, the King issued a proclamation saying that any man or woman who could make the Prince speak would receive the richest reward in the Kingdom. However, the penalty for those who tried and failed would be instant death.
- Nicky Singer, Feather Boy

I still haven't time to read what happened but what I'll like to ask is, if the Prince had been silent for as long as anyone could remember, why wouldn't anyone think he's just mute instead of refusing to talk?

What's on my mind today is car parks, or to be precise, the maximum sustainable weight estimated for car parks. It all started with the Elevation gig I attended last Saturday, where a crowd congregated on the top floor of an unused car park for a clubbing event. The problem is, the floor started trembling after a while and I harboured morbid thoughts of the car park floor giving way, which isn't the way I thought I'll die (not that I thought about dying much, but surely it's not in an unused car park?). So I started inching the gang nearer to the edge of the car park where the railings are and the floor doesn't want to boogie.

Anarchy thought that each car should weigh about the same as 15 people, so if more than 15 people were standing in each parking lot, would that be over the limit then? This morning I exchanged a flurry of hilarious emails with a friend about this. He scoffed at my irrational fear of the collapsing car park floor and we reached the conclusion that each parking lot should be designed for the heaviest vehicle possible (lorry?) and should sustain the maximum weight of the vehicle and its load. It's like imagining that every car in the lot is being parked at the same time, each of them with the maximum number of occupants and load, with a buffer percentage. Weird isn't it?

I really should get back to work.

This morning in the 30 minutes while commuting to work, I sms'd with B12 (who wished he could take the week off cos he felt too tired), my best friend (who lost people before he could hire them), my UK travel mate (who bought the exact same mobile phone as I) and a girlfriend (who missed a film screening yesterday). Inbetween I managed to read bits of Feather Boy and sample music from U-ziq's Bluff Limbo album, which HP has just lent me.

And at some point in the midst of all this, I realise things are exactly what they should be.

I still cheat by reading the endings of books first. So though I've not read Nicky Singer's Feather Boy yet, I do know what will happen. I won't reveal it, but I'll just quote this line I like particularly.

"And others say.. that when he awoke the following morning, he found two golden feathers shining on his pillow, and these feathers brought him courage and love and luck for all of his life."

So hello, Feather Boy. It's much better than Song or Road, isn't it?

Inspired by lainey, a tiny blog Q&A before shower and bed.

Yes or No...

You keep a diary: Does blogging count?

You like to cook: If I've never done it, I won't know if I do.

You have a secret you have not shared with anyone: Yes, doesn't everyone?

You're in love: Not consciously.

You set your watch a few minutes ahead: No, I try to be exact.

You bite your fingernails: No, they're too short.

You believe in love: I hope.

I've been too busy to blog but I just want to say that Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali (the all-time favourite in a movie poll I read), has fallen below my expectations. I was looking forward to the scene where the little boy searches for his sister in the tall grass, since it has been mentioned in Satyajit Ray's book. It was quite blink-and-you'll-miss-it though.

Disappointment with the movie has somehow trickled over to a discontented ending of the weekend.

You're right. Wednesday was better.

My personal trainer told me I'm lifting weights too quickly. I need to slow down so I can strain my muscles and feel pain. I guess that seems like another analogy for my life now. I'm moving on too quickly to feel pain but maybe it's precisely that I need to do the reverse.

I need to slow down to the speed of pain recognition.

Dear Dad,
at the risk of sounding flippant, please take care of my friends' dads wherever all of you are now, since you've been there longer.

And if there was something I could change back when you were still alive, it'd be that time when bro and I both fought to have that same issue of Doraemon's comic. We wouldn't share so you had to buy the same comic for each of us. It was stupid wasn't it? Sorry. Remember how I was partial to the Hardy Boys (but not Nancy Drew) while bro preferred Famous Five, or was that Secret Seven? Actually, I've not read much of anything in ages though I have a huge backlog.

I wish I had learnt photography from you too. You were so skilled at it and willing to teach, yet bro and I didn't bother to ask. Dad, I'm still a point and shoot idiot but I think I can appreciate framing and lighting techniques now. That's a plus isn't it?

I'm not trying to make you anxious, but I've not really learnt to take care of myself or mum since you've gone. I'm still not as patient with mum as you were. I've yet to learn how to iron or cook. Remember how you used to knot my tie for school assembly all those years, so I could just slip it on and wear it? Well, I've not mastered that either. You were still the last person who has ever tried to teach me to swim. My writing has become lacklustre. I'm just hurrying through life trying to get things done, and why does it seem like there are so many things to be done?

In Pink Floyd's words, I've become comfortably numb. Like I've stood still way too long, and now there are pins and needles in my legs and I just can't move. All I'm doing is hang on till the sensation has faded away, and try to shift my feet again. But please have faith that I will walk somehow. This much you have taught me.

Hope everything's wonderful where you are and I know it is.
You're still missed and loved.

Tired. Something's got to give but I don't know what.

Your dad passed away today. You phoned me while I was inbetween film screenings, but took some time before you could bring yourself to tell me. You said you wouldn't be able to meet tomorrow and asked me where I was right then, and then you broke down and cried. It felt so surreal, like a flashback to my own dad's death. I always thought you're the bravest girl, and how we thought the fortune teller who told you that you're a timid soul was so funny. I hope you can carry on being strong, dear. I'm so sorry. I really liked your dad.

Did it make sense that my auto-repeat song today is Daft Punk's Superheroes, where the only lyrics in it is the line "Vaulting through the air!" repeated enthusiastically over and over again? No. Did it make me happy though? Without a doubt.

I woke this morning with a slight cold, and went back to bed with my Discman playing Daft Punk's Discovery for a bit of musical healing. Nearing the end of the last song (a 10 minute tune ironically titled Too Long), I realise why spas don't do it for me. They don't soothe my soul.

If I were given a fortune cookie now, my message would read "One day you'll forget about him, but today is not the day". But today was a good day anyway. I'm too tired to write coherently but I'll try to blog a little first.

Met my travelmates at 8am for breakfast (ordered too much as usual), and later caught up with Dave. Came home to watch animation DVDs and cried watching Interstella 5555, even though there wasn't a single line of dialogue in the whole movie.

Went to watch local documentaries at the Singapore History Museum (but didn't shed a drop). There was a documentary on the only women's secret society which previously existed in Singapore (interesting topic but cheesy execution). There was also a 37 minute documentary entitled 80 km/h, which consisted of one long tracking shot taken from the viewpoint of a car travelling from Changi Airport along the PIE to the other end of the island at 80km/h. Quite a few people walked out of this one and I did too, not cos I found it boring but cos I had to make it for another movie. We did stay till about 10 minutes into the movie, so HP could point out his flat to me. It's a strange way to see someone's home for the first time though isn't it? lol.

What was lovely was watching my first Satyajit Ray film at the Asian Civilization Museum. It's entitled Jalsaghar (The Music Room) and I've read about it from his book, but I didn't expect I'd have a chance to see it. Wonderful sense of camera composition despite the old print, and beautiful classical indian music. Can't wait to see more of his works.

Ended up visiting 3 music joints tonight. Went to a jazz bar (located above an indian disco!) but there were no seats, so we deviated to a salsa place in Chinatown. Couldn't dance there cos everyone was in pairs and doing coordinated salsa dancing, so we moved on again to a drum & bass event. Danced there but decided not to follow the rest who carried on after that at a R&B place.

So here I am. Thinking for the upteenth time that when I was dancing in front of the speakers just now, with the music hitting me from the back and floating over my head, that I'm happy in a lonely sort of way. Tha I've not yet showered and it's less than 10 hours to go before I hit the gym. That I better eat salad tomorrow.

This morning I woke thinking I'm either going to buy a pair of dumbbells (3kg each), or catch the latest movie by Sylvia Chang called 20/ 30/ 40 today. The dumbbells cos I'm getting used to the weight of the current ones (2kg each) I bought a month ago; the movie cos I like Sylvia Chang. So I went to work and forgot all about it, till I realised I didn't feel like working late today and got out to catch the movie just in time.

I don't know about you, but the frequency I cry can be a predictable science. If I watch a movie every other day, and I cry at nearly every other movie, my teardrop rate can be easily deduced can't it? It doesn't matter if the plot is a deliberate tearjerker or friends roll their eyes at me. I cry anyway, and I cried today. It's a wonderful movie and I'm glad I caught it, though I didn't have time to go buy a pair of heavier dumbbells.

Got home and ate grapes, before settling down to rearrange the CDs on my table. Let's say I had 28 CDs stacked precariously on top of one another, and in mismatched jewel cases too. Woohoo. If only life is as simple as rearranging CDs.

Cosmic Tree Parasite Dolls Sayew Barbarian Invasions Fog of War Uzak Vibrator Robert Capa In Love and War Taipei 21 Capturing the Friedmans Weather Underground Red White and Blues Osama Soul of a Man Missing Bright Future Goodbye Dragon Inn.

Or the movies you can watch with just under $200.

It's after 1am and I've yet to shower and go sleep. Watched 2 films and came home to spend an hour musing over the Singapore International Film Festival selection. Shortlisted 18 which I'm getting a friend to help buy tickets tomorrow, and that's just the first round. Woohoo.

What else? My bro is the only person I know who reads my blog on his Palm Tungsten 3 while he's commuting. lol.

Haven't blogged for a while. Here's my first attempt at Friday Five then.

1. What was the last song you heard?

Manic Street Preachers' Tsunami on auto-repeat while I ran 7 km at 10.5 km/h on the treadmill. The treadmill was facing the window, so while I ran, I could see clouds floating by in various formations. Maybe this single stationary shot of clouds could be a music video.

What were the last two movies you saw?

Both from the Australian Film Festival: Swimming Upstream (excellent performance by Geoffrey Rush plus lots of eye candy, and no I don't mean Geoffrey) and Alexandra's Project (supposed to be experimental and edgy but I found it ridiculous).

What were the last three things you purchased?

Embarrassing. I bought a pair of casual black high heeled flip-flops which is supposedly the latest in-thing, cos of the technological breakthrough to marry some rubber bonding technique to heels. The salesgirl told me I could wear them to a beach party or to go clubbing. Right. 3 inch heels to trudge around in sand... I don't think so. Anyway, I passed by the shoe store on my way to the gym and tried out this pair, but didn't buy it then cos I thought they looked a bit Ah Lian and don't I have a gazillion pairs of shoes already? Then of cos I passed by again on my way from the gym and went in right away to buy them. And it was the last pair too!

Eh, what else? Facial toner, and a copy of this week's 8 Days.

What four things do you need to do this weekend?

What, only 4? Are we talking about need to do and have done, or need to do but not? I've attended the Scott Hicks forum, worked on the project with Dave, watched films, met friends, gone to the gym, and will be going out soon for family dim sum. One of my watches (Big Ben!) has stopped running, and I've got to get its battery changed.

Oh yeah, and I needed a drink so I had Kilkenny last night. In fact, all but one ordered Kilkenny too. Guess if there are only 2 beers and the other is Tiger, there isn't really any competition.

Who are the last five people you talked to?
Dave (online about the project), mum ("When are you going to get off the computer and go wash up?"), Leslie and 3 other friends (drinks at Soundbar last night).

And it's time for me to go now.

I got stood up today by someone who told me he'd get back to me about attending a film screening, and then didn't. I didn't chase him on it cos frankly he wasn't the first person I've asked. 2 girlfriends couldn't make it. And strangely I remembered you going to the wrong cinema that one time and then missing nearly half the movie, but coming to the right cinema anyway, not following most of the plot but just to be there. To hold my hand.

I think I took somebody else's black cardigan home accidentally. I didn't notice it at first cos I've got at least 4 black cardigans, all pure black and with slight variations in the sleeve length, material, zipper or buttons. I only know this one isn't mine cos I took it out of the closet this morning and it's too big. It's a size 9. Can't tell how I've gotten hold of it, unless it's from a pub I visited last week where there's only one other girl with a black cardigan. Whom I don't know personally. Bugger. So I sms'd someone who knows this girl to contact her, but it seems like she didn't lose any cardigan. Hmm. I wonder if this could be an old cardigan of mine after all, cept I've never hit size 9 before. Has this ever happened to anyone else?

I dreamt that I was dreaming. In the dream-within-a-dream, I found that my fingernails have all been painted expertly with transparent nail polish. M appeared and told me she did it in my sleep (which must have alerted me to the fact that I was hallucinating cos that should have been way too difficult). And so I woke up from that dream only to find that I was still dreaming. Or something like that.

What I mean to say is hey M, I dreamt of you last night! lol.

You're tender and you're tired
You can't be bothered to decide
whether you live or die or
just forget about your life
- Manic Street Preachers, You're tender and you're tired

I'm tender and tired but I'm trying not to let it show; and when I'm lucky, I forget about you. That pretty much sums up my life now.

Random rants before I go sleep (and I desperately need sleep!)

Last night I dreamt I was walking a train. Yes, like on a leash. Maybe walking my best friend's dog has unforseen repercussions.

This evening I ran 10 km listening to Manic Street Preachers' My Little Empire on auto-repeat. Even though my calves still ached from the personal training session on Sunday. Yes, I'm sadistic too.

What else is new? You should be attending the Scott Hicks Master Lecture Series this Saturday, cos it's not everyday an Academy award-nominated director comes to town.

Ok. I still owe 2 people emails but you can probably guess bed has won.
Out.

So I've been online for nearly 2 hours and I've only blogged 6 words in my previous entry. Amazing. Lots to blog about but you know what, I'm not bothered to. Woohoo.

Bad movies you can't resist watching.

My jc girlfriend and I just got matching silver rings inscribed in the Elvish language, like in Lord of the Rings. The inscriptions are both on the inner and outer rims of the ring, but I can't tell if it's authentic. Going to get a friend who's studied the Tolkien lore to take a look and translate for me. I guess it'll look too nerdy to wear the ring on a chain round my neck huh? lol.

Quantum Theory states that alternate universes exist for every possibility. This means that there's a universe out there where this CD is the only piece of music in existence. Ever. No Jimi Hendrix. No Mozart. No Miles Davis. No Beatles, Stevie Wonder or Bob Marley. Not even any Britney Spears or Boyzone. Just Dave. Rockin' on for eternity.
- extracted from a review on the Best of David Hasselhoff

Hilarious!

Today I met up with leslie who's home for a visit and we went randomly around. We ate chicken rice at River Valley, hit Chinatown for dessert, before returning to the kopi stall just next door to the chicken rice place at River Valley. As leslie pointed out, starting out from River Valley and ending up there again is just like the Markov theory. They are just random processes characterized by a lack-of-memory property: the conditional distribution of what happens in the future given everything up to now, depends only on the present state (and not otherwise on the past).

Besides, we also found out there's a road here named Shanghai Road. That it's ok I've forgotten how a token ring network operates since it's outdated now. And that it's better to eat the Milo powder in a Milo Dino drink instead of trying to stir it into the drink.

Anyway, it was fun. Strange how long we've known each other! lol.

Dealing with cake inspectors at work the past few days. They wanted to be taught ways on how bakers could cheat while baking.. like substituting cheaper ingredients etc. But because cake inspectors didn't know how to bake, this became quite an overwhelming task. I kept telling them to only inspect the cake, and not the oven or the baker's appearance or intent. Somehow the message isn't getting through.

Last person in the office. All those lights left on just for me. Woohoo. I don't know if it's due to the rain this afternoon or cos I got careless in heels, I fell on slippery ground. Now I'm developing a palm-size bruise on my shin. Munched on biscuits for dinner, so much for trying to stay healthy. I need the weekend so desperately.

Actually, I find it sad that I tend to make short hit & run phone calls nowadays during lunchtime and while commuting to and from work. I hardly have time to communicate during work, so I need the short gaps inbetween to follow up with people. Sigh.

What I secretly find amusing is precision. I'm tickled by the fact that, no matter how often I buy pretzels from a certain store and eat them as I walk along, I will always reach the same rubbish bin at the time I finish eating to throw away the wrapper.

Or maybe I should find it disconcerting that I need to save time and eat as I walk.

Tired and still at work. I'm distracting myself to blog a thought about searching for correct fixes to problems. When a problem is encountered, it's possible to search for possible solutions from an existing solutions database. I'm probably the fastest seeker in my team not because I know the most appropriate keywords to narrow down the search. I'm fast because of the exact opposite reason. I use as few keywords as possible, and only those 100% dead certain ones. For instance, while someone else would rather use more keywords (even not so appropriate ones) to narrow down the search to 100 hits; I would use fewer keywords (but all 100% relevant) and have 1,000 hits. Then I would go through the 1,000 hits manually to find the correct fix, rather than miss the correct solution due to limitations by inadequate keywords. And the end result is I'm often faster than the person who tries to have a short cut in the beginning.

I guess it pays to be patient.

I'm trying to isolate my muscles. My trainer controls the zone of activities in his body so well that only the muscles he wants to work, will. Me? I'm not really sure where I'm feeling pain during the workout. Just like the rest of me, my muscles are confused.