Flashback IV: Millipede

I'm always falling down when I was young. Somehow I fell down one day and scratched my knees. Scratches and abrasions on knees are the worst of the lot. Everytime you move, walk, sit, stand, the abrasions really hurt. So I was crying and sniffing as I walked home from child-care with dad. It really hurt. But I was acting tough and though I was half-limping, I managed to climb up onto the sand pit of those old playgrounds (which was on the way home) and jumped around a little before going back. Well, jumping around made my abrasions worse and the tears came again.

"Hey look at that!" Dad said. There he was, a brown slimy thing with many legs. He's a milipede. (I didn't know milipedes weren't slimy at that point in time.)

"It'll coil up into a ring if you touch him," said Dad. Dad prodded little milipede with his finger and I watched. Little milipede stopped in his track, flopped on his side, and coiled up into a spiral. If I were to do that, I'd be crouching down on the floor, hugging my knees. (I think) After some time, I think little milipede forgot that we were watching and he uncoiled himself and started walking again. I was fascinated. When it was time to go, I kept my eyes glued to little milipede as dad pulled me along. Well, little milipede was walking too slowly despite his many legs. I had to bid goodbye.

But up to now, I still remember little milipede coz he made me forgot my pain in the knee.


Coming soon: --
Flashback V: Child-care chair rocker
Flashback VI: Kindergarten crybaby glue episode
Flashback VII: Kindergarten major accident

Flashback III: Family History

Once upon a time when the older Singaporeans still lived in the remaining kampongs, I was a little girl who's always bitten by mosquitoes at my my grandma's whenever I visited her at her little kampong house. In those days, I was already a kid living in HDB.

Watching chickens and Mr Rooster cluck and crow around was quite interesting. Other than the mosquitoes, I usually enjoyed looking at Mr Rooster and his chicken concubines scratch for worms or strut around in the kampong backyard. That is, till Mr. Rooster starting running after me. All I wanted to do was to give him a pat on the head, you know, the way you show affection for little animals? Yah, and he started to run after me!

I was only twice Mr Rooster's size then and he intimidated me so much that I started running for my life. Out of the little backyard I ran, screaming for mum and dad as I scrambled over a sea of brown leaves, twigs and mud. I could hear his chicken feet right behind me and his cocky little crow-cockle-doodle-doo really frightened me. When I peeked over my shoulder, I saw Mr Rooster and a scatter of his chicken concubines behind me! That scared me so mcuh that I lost my footing, tripped over a tree root and fell flat on the floor. I started to cry.

There was a flurry of events and dad came to my rescue. He picked me off the ground, brushed the dust off my knees and stood me on my feet. The chickens were gone.

Back at the little kampong house, Mum and Dad just laughed my chicken episode off. But trust me, you wouldn't want to try to pat a rooster or chicken the way you'd pet your dog.

Flashback I

When I was in primary school, i can't even finish a single serving of lor mai gai (nuo mi ji aka glutinous chicken rice). I remember how I struggled with finishing the 90cents worth of food and what bloatedness it gave me when I pushed every single bit into my stomach. Once, there was about half of my lor mai gai left and I surrendered. Cannot finish. No no. My primary school teacher saw it and remarked that I ate very little. "Very little?" I thought, "Cannot already. My stomach is starting to hurt. Indigestion."

On hindsight, I was a totally small eater. How can one lor mai gai be too much? I used to be unable to one serving of char siew rice and fifty cents worth of wanton mee can satisfy my stomach. Thirty cents worth of porridge or forty cents worth of hor fun is good for lunch. Fifty cents of nasi lemak or eighty cents worth of mixed dishes from the Chinese rice stall is more than enought to fill my stomach. And 90cents was a big deal. Ninety cents!

I bought a mechanical pencil that cost 80cents once and that was my most valuable asset in my pencil case. Well, next to my liquid paper that is. When I invested in a pilot-G1 which cost $1.20 then, it was my most precious pen. My first ink pen purchased with my pocket money!

Of course, if you read about my pencil case in the blog sometime ago, you'd know I have a soft spot when it comes to spending on stationery. I'm learning to hold back though. Next to my liquid paper, my most expensive pen costs $2.80.

My spending habits just grew and grew and grew. This is bad. Once, I found $6 for a pair of earrings too expensive. But now, I'm thinking twice about getting earrings that costs below $10. Another soft spot for earrings. As yet, I havent invested much in earrings. They're given to me most of the time haha.

As for clothes and shoes... I think I'm placing my cap at about twenty. I'm starting to let my wallet go on diet. This is bad. I need self-control. (But then again, I don't usually find things/clothes/ shoes that I really like.. Hmmm... :p)

Flashback II

Long long ago, when I first discovered that jam goes really well with those square Jacobs biscuit, I was intrigued and I wanted more more more. My dad, whom I credit as the founder of this recipe, decided to make more for me. He spread jam over one biscuit, covered it with another, applied a second layer of jam before adding a third biscuit. I was amazed! A triple decker! I asked him to add another biscuit. I wanted a four-ple decker! He did. It was starting to get fun, seeing the biscuits all stacked together. So I told my dad to add more biscuits.

"Are you sure? You won't be able to finish this," said Dad.

"It's very nice. I can finish it," I replied confidently.

So my dad added another biscuit, and I wanted another...and another...and another...

It was the tallest pile of biscuit I've ever seen in my little life! It was up to my chin! ( I wasn't very tall then. I was kneeling down beside the coffee table and from that angle, the biscuits were up to my chin anyway.)

I munched on the top few layers of biscuit excitedly. After my 4th biscuit, that was it. I was full. The decker biscuits started to look intimidating. I looked at my dad and all he said was, " I knew you cannot finish. I'll help you eat."

That tea break jam delight probably spoilt both our dinner (much to mum's displeasure), but I sure remember how to make a triple decker jam delight! :)

Quote of the day:
I wish I can eat the Bible so that I will digest everything in it and assimilate all the truths and make it part of my heartbeat.

The way to go is to read it consistently.

I saw my friend take this quiz on how old we are... So, I gave it a shot. And I got something really surprising... perhaps if you were my age, you wouldn't even bother trying such online quizzes. Sheesh. Teenager at heart :X

You Are 15 Years Old

15 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Huh? God? (The Q n A with Mr. LT)

Freedom I
Compare a man who's floating in outer space and a man bound by the forces of gravity on earth. Who is the free-er man? Mr Floatee or Mr Gravity?

At first, I tot it was Mr Floatee. Then again, Mr Floatee can't really move around in space can he? He'll just keep floating and be stationary, or move forever and ever. Newton's laws lah. On the other hand, Mr Gravity-bound is free with respect to earth. He can decide when and where he wants to walk and when and where to stop.

Freedom exists with respect to something.



Freedom II
Mr Guy got married to Ms Lady say 20years ago. And 20yrs ago, the single Mr Guy had the freedom to choose whether to marry Ms Lady. So, Mr. Guy uses his freedom of choice and voluntarily makes a commitment to Ms Lady.

There's something about freedom that involves making voluntary commitments.



Personality
The Greeks define personality as the intellect, the emotion and the will. A person cannot show his intellect, emotion and will if he is left all alone. Personality does not stand alone and it is relational to other people!



Responsibility
"I will be responsible for my own actions." -- Mr Human.
Sounds noble? But things don't exactly work that way. We live in a connected world. What we do affect other people as well. Can Mr Human take the responsibility for other chain events that follow?



Pain
"Pain is bad." Are you sure? Pain is the warning signal that something is wrong. It's God's megaphone in telling us that something is not right. Pain alerts us to diagnose what's not right. If there's no pain, the medical profession will be out of job.



What's right
Q: How does God decide what is right or just? Is there a moral standard God follow?
A: Can God create a stone He cannot lift? God is the standard and the moral standard is seen in God's character. God's character is love and this is seen in the oneness of the Trinity where Father, Son and Holy Spirit love each other from the beginning. God's intrinsic character shown in the Trinity is God's standard.



God is good? What is good?
God is good within His being, the Trinity. 'God is good' is a statement. 'God is good to me.' means something else altogether. When we say God is good, we are saying that God's very nature is Good. What is good? Love (the very nature of God) which existed since the beginning.



Where is God in all this? (Disasters. Eg. Tsunami)
He is there. God knows suffering. Look at Jesus and how He suffered and was nailed in the hands and feet on the cross. But God doesn't stop it bcoz He'll be infringing our freedom.



Excuse me. What freedom?
Our freedom to choose. Long ago, the first man Adam freely chose to rebel against God and declare himself (and thus his future generation i.e. all man) autonomous of God. So, we face the consequences of that choice made. Consequences as can be seen from Genesis of the Bible are:
broken relationship with God (autonomy and rebellion against God)
broken relationship between man and man (interpersonal conflict)
broken relationship within self (intrapersonal conflict. We don't even understand ourselves and can't face ourselves)
broken relationship with nature (even nature's rebelling against us)
Therefore, the consequence of the rebellion against God, autonomy = nature's rebellion. Disasters are part of the rebellion.



Why should I have a good relationship with God when he does not protect me?
Man. We all sound like we're trying to get the most from giving the least. He is God! There's awe in knowing God!



Quotes of the day:
Humans are a subset of God. We share some of His characteristics.

We don't worship God because He is safe. We worship God because He is Good.

(PS: Bits and pieces from a highly thought-provoking session with apologist Mr. LT. Pardon me if I sound mind-boggled. Much to think about.)

Did I mention...

Did I ever mention how I dread writing lab reports?
Did I mention the key to solving lab report questions fast is to be organized?
Did I mention how I enjoy doing lab work coz of the good company?
Did I mention that I think I'm in the wrong faculty?
Did I mention that I want to study hard and do nothing but mug?
Did I mention I still haven't bought a new pair of slippers yet?
Did I mention I haven't packed my room yet?
Did I mention I like nougats, both hard and soft?
Did I mention that my paw fern is still growing? (haven't found it's name yet :X )
Did I mention about that guy? (haha. Gotcha. Why are you all wide-eyed and open-mouthed? I just threw this sneaky question for fun. Early April fool's)
Did I mention how amazed I am by the fact that some people can be sending you heart-warming emails with personal notes and act as if they didn't know you when you smile at them?

oh yeah. I just did.

Yesterday

Attended my girl friend's 21st birthday party. Went to Clarke Quay into a pub and took my first puff of Sheesha, shisha (or by whichever middle eastern name you call it). Attempted to get into Attica (a new club with music loud enough to rattle the doors and windows. No kidding.) but changed our minds coz the bouncers didn't let our under-25 guy friends in. Took a cab to Chinatown and feasted on yummy porridge and chinese styled sashimi at 1am. Laughed at silly jokes and shared yummilicious gormet experiences till 3am. Went back to my friend's place and slept for 2 hours before it was time to head home.

Sheesha

Going clubbing/ pubbing is not my cup of tea. Can't stand the smoke. Nevertheless, my friend persuaded all of us to go. So we landed at clark quay into this little place with lights that casted intricate egyptian/ middle eastern/ turkish patterns on the ceiling. Saw that each table had a tall pipe like thingie wih a blue/ green coloured glass base, a long stem-like body with a single long tube attached to it. From the looks of it, the angmoh-dominated pub looked like an opium den. All the people were taking puffs from the tube and blowing out clouds of smoke. Very much like smoking. And that funny pipe thingie makes it look all look so queer and out of this world.

That whole thingie is known as Sheesha. And the pipe apparatus thingie is called Hookah. Google sheesha or shisha and you can read up all about it. So, my friends and I took turns at the pipe/ tubing. How do you smoke sheesha? Suck in the smoke from the pipe and blow it out. Something like smoking I guess. In fact, it was very much like smoking. The only diff, according to my friend, was that sheesha doesn't irritate your lungs. We had a strawberry sheesha plus a mint sheesha. Don't like sheesha much. It's like sucking in cool vapour with strawberry and mint smells/ flavours. Ended up swallowing plenty of air and had a bloated uncomfy stomach. Took a couple of photos with me puffing out. Look very much like nerd trying to act cool. Novel indeed. No smelly cigarette smell from sheesha.

But no more sheesha for me.

All the time I thought I was puffing flavoured water vapour. But in actual fact, I was smoking sheesha, which is tobacco flavoured with fruit molasses and honey. OH NO. I'm smoking *Gasp*

Am I turning into a pai kia? O_o Or am I actually an underground pai kia? =X o_O

Today

Came home at 9am. Flopped into bed. Woke up in time for lunch and for an appointment. Came home afterwards feeling that being with people is a tough thing. Feasted on 2 soft maple nougats, 2 dark hershey kisses, half a bar of Lotte crunky crunch dark choc from Japan, stopped myself before I have choco overdose. Watched The Terminal on my lappy and cried. ( I like shows that make me cry/ think)

Nagging underlying voices telling me about my undone lab report and the much needed discussion with my lab partner. More voices telling me about the people I have to call and meet and keep up with. More voices struggling to push these stresses aside and indulge in chocolate.

Too many voices in my head. Party and holiday withdrawal symptoms. Partying was fun in a way. But it was so unlike me in so many ways that I surprise myself. My inconsistency is getting to me.

JT and her Pencil Case.

I have a wonderfully well equipped pencil case thank you. Big pencil case with plenty of pens that constantly go on student exchange with other pencil cases.

(student exchange: moving from one student to another)

As I stared down my study table drawer at the numerous stay-home pencil cases, I found many pen bodies. Ink refill-less pen bodies. And why are they there? These space-fillers!

(stay-home pencil cases: pencil cases confined to my home.)

And I remembered. They are there because I wanted to save my handicapped pens from annihilation. In my clumsiness, I sometimes lose pen caps and stuff. In my perfectionistic little pencil case world, I'd start wondering what to do with my handicapped pens. To banish or not to banish it to the lost realms of the drawer?

(handicapped pens: pens with missing parts or damaged pen tips)

In the end, I figured that I should have mercy on my banished pens. I decided to save up expired pens and their bodies. In the event that any of my working pens are involved in any accident resulting in handicap, transplants may be carried out from suitable donor pens to ensure the recovery of handicapped pens.

(expired: A term used to describe pens who have outlived their usability aka no more ink.)

Therefore, the space-filler pen bodies will continue to reside in the drawer.

I always welcome stationery, pretty pens and A5 sized notebooks in my home.

What's wrong with JT:
1) Too little input, too much output and expected output.
2) To much output, no time for input.
3) Time for input clashes with time for output.
4) Time thus spent on output, little time for input.
5) Too little input, too much output and expected output.

Swish-Swash
A little wave washes onto the shore... and a pesky little slipper was persuaded to wash along with it a little. Afloat was the little slipper. One minute it was washing back towards the shore, another it was pulled further away. But soon, it was dragged into the ocean. Afloat it still is and floating floating it goes. I feel like the little slipper, washed into a stretch of things to do.

A letter
Dear so and so,
I am struggling very hard now. I have taken too many things into my own platter. I know that only seasonal periods will stretch me to the extreme, but as it is, the current situation is stretching me thin. I have little input to fuel me for output. First, It would be good to remove me from the committee. Second, I hope either to work with a small group. It is too much for me to get to know a big group. My lack of input stops me from a lot of things and it frustrates me because I do not say things from my heart. I cannot convince people to do things I do not agree with. As such, I apply for strong assistance (preferably an assistant who can take lead and I can step back as a helper to rethink my roles) for all Saturdays. It would be good to have assistants on weekdays too. But, I really hope that the following will be considered:
1) Remove me from committee.
2) Find a leader to take over Saturdays till I find my conviction. (1 month)
3) I prefer to work in small groups. Negotiable.

Thank you.

Yours truly,
Slipper swish.

Interesting definitions:

(taken off my lecture notes which came from some website I guess)

COLLEGE: A place where some pursue learning and others learn pursuing.

CLASSIC: A book which people praise, but do not read.

DICTIONARY: The only place where success comes before work.

LECTURE: An art of transferring information from the notes of the Lecturer to the notes of the students without pass through the minds of either.

MISER: A person who lives poor so he can die rich.

FATHER: A banker provided by nature.

CRIMINAL: A guy no different from the rest... except that he got caught.

BOSS: Someone who is early when you are late and late when you are early.

POLITICIAN: One who shakes your hand before elections and your confidence after.

DOCTOR: A person who kills your ills by pills, and kills you with his bills.

Quote of the day: When the air feels heavy and dull despite the sunshine, I know I have been sighing too much.

Pre-21 year old blues

(I'll get over it. Tell me I'm not suffering from depression.)

Welcome to the beginning of a new year. And I can't believe how frustrated I am. I feel like throwing some things against the wall, tearing up tons of paper and the to-do-lists and screaming away all the new responsibilities heaped onto me. I want to forget all the people I'm supposed to be responsible for and sweep the mess off my table onto the floor and throw my laptop at the mirror. After all's done and destroyed, Tsunami JT will sweep out of the house and rejoin the Oceans and be lost in the sea to discover a new world of corals and fishes, and turn into a mermaid and live in mutual understanding with the deep calmness of the sea and the silent but colourful company of the fishes, and be cheered by the dolphins and the whales.

That's a cheerful thought.

I look forward to nothing. What is there to look forward to? Holidays? hello, they don't exist, do they? Holidays are plagued by stuff to do which I know I have to do and feel forced to do and do not want to do. Plagued by things which are urgent, and perhaps I should add 'important' against the wishes of my fingers and heart at the moment. Ministry responsibilities that I no longer want and struggle over and grumble and mumble and got frustrated over. Not to the point of hate, but my limitation in vocabulary prevents me from using a word much stronger than 'frustrated'. Tell me if you know a word that puts 'frustration', 'unwillingness', 'indignance', 'struggle', 'demoralised', 'bitterness', and all those self-directed angry words together. My vocab's limited, and perhaps I may start using expletives. I once said that expletives are the wit's end expression of limited vocabulary. I'm not at my wit's end yet. But I may just be frustrated enough to use expletives.

I come back to a house. I walk into an educational building. I walk into other educational buildings and meet blank figures. I got thrown into things that I do not want to do. I am ordered to do things out of my own choice (what irony!) and to make things that I don't think will happen happen. To bring the sunshine back to the pits I'm in now, send me to the oceans and make me a mermaid. I'm tired of people. I'm tired of having the responsibility of changing people. Who am I to change them? Sorry, that has become a broken dream. I can't even change the horrible reflection I see in the toilet mirror every morning. The frown, the dark eye rings, the mildest hint of wrinkles that'd manifest in later days. The frustration that burns in the cold stare is reciprocated by the one standing in front of the mirror.

I'm the smart rational monster which has confused itself by making wrong sound so right. I'm the deceiver of the highest order who blinds the self to its own flaws. I'm the professional potion maker who managed to dull its own senses by making the cloud of smoke more visible that the source of the smoke.

The smoke drowned out every single drop of the happy concoction. The past is hazy and the future bleak. Nothing is remembered except that which is cut deep. But as time heals, the wound turns into a numbing sort of pain, an impression that clouds all experiences.

I'm moving into adulthood--that which adults wish to forgo for childhood once more.