aDrenais' Book of Shadows

This is my first post from China, and the first made on Microsoft Word. I have ADSL connection over here, but it’s on a 30 hr per month plan, so I’ll have to watch the time spent online. I’m grateful enough, though; I didn’t expect to be granted Internet access this quickly and conveniently. Lukie’s right, it’s time we started taking China products/processes seriously.

I just saw Dad off at the bus station. I’m effectively well and alone in Xiamen, until somebody decides to drop by for a visit. Well, I’m living with relatives, of course, so technically I’m not at all alone. It’s just being in a foreign place that’s giving me the willies, I suppose. As I was telling everyone who would care to listen over MSN, I’m not the free-spirited adventurous soul I thought I was: I was scared stiff when I realized that I have really and truly embarked on my travels overseas. I’m really grateful to Dad for accompanying me all the way to Xiamen; I would never have managed the 27kg worth of baggage I brought otherwise. More importantly, his presence was reassuring, and made the transition a lot easier.

I'm ashamed to say that I spent the whole of today in bed, sleeping. I had this little sore throat, nothing serious, but I made use of it to avoid facing this new routine that will be my life for the next 5 months. I woke up at 8am, went back to bed after taking some medicine dispensed by my auntie (dad's elder sister, whom I call gugu, yes or no?), a retired doctor. She's the first doctor to tell me that I can stop eating antibiotics when I feel better, so..Anyway, I woke for lunch, then went back to sleep, woke for dinner and went to send dad off after that. I'm minimising contact with cousins, shutting myself in the room. This is bad, I thought I would enjoy myself more, instead of this self-imposed exile to my room. I hope this is just a phase that will pass, I sure hope I won't spend the next 5 months holed up in the room!

Typhoon's wreaking havoc on the weather around here, so I haven't been able to take a good walk around the city. According to my cousins it is not all that big, and I'll familarise myself with the city in no time. I haven't settled the administrative stuff either; the setting up of bank account, the sourcing of a local mobile line...Not that I'm in any rush to do any of these things, too. Just feel like lying in bed all day. I just hope that my friend's words will come true: "i'm sure you have an adventurous & gung-ho side of you lurking inside.. it'll eventually emerge when you're away from your close ones.

Shall post some pictures as soon as I get a router...anybody wants to venture what a router's called in Mandarin? :s

This is the first time I've seen E drunk as a skunk, and totally floored. I hate to admit, but CB Leong is a better friend than he lets on; he was totally cool about E vomitting all over him. Now I know how to tell when E's really plastered: he starts speaking to everybody in Hainanese!He was trying his best to make himself understood to the guy behind the bar, speaking earnestly in Hainanese.

ZH was a real dear, I would not be able to get the smashed one up to his room if not for him. We hauled him up to the bathroom, where I proceeded to give him a shower so as to get him out of his soiled clothes. It was the messiest affair ever; bloody TV shows always make it look like a breeze, taking care of the drunk.

E then started to shiver violently when I laid him on the bed. I was like, wtf! Am I supposed to know that giving showers to people who are dead drunk will result in hypothermia or pneumonia? It was really distressing to watch, since I was totally clueless as to what I ought to do, and what was happening. My dear breadstick managed to remain largely unconscious for the entire duration, right from the time I knocked my head and back against the bathroom tiles, trying to manoveur his deadweight into a position where he can catch the showerhead spray, until he fell off the bed when I left him to go to the toilet just 10 minutes ago.

He was sleeping fine on the bed, except for the occasional wheeze. When he fell off and landed on my handbag (my camera!), he started spewing copious amounts of saliva again. I'm in a right state, and I don't dare to sleep for fear he might want something when he comes around. As I was telling the rest, he's definitely not a lousy drinker, so I have no idea why he might be this smashed. I thought it might be the fact that he wanted me to send him home (as he told me in a conversation earlier on in the night), or perhaps because I'll be leaving for China in 3 days.

I can hardly keep my eyes open now. Oh please let E be fine when he wakes, I don't want to be the one who gave him pneumonia!

Read this awhile ago from Cindy's blog.

For instance, he would stand one step below me as we ride up an
escalator.
It's always one step below, not the same step as me, and definitely not
(good lord!) one step above me.Why?Just so that if I fall backwards, he'll be
there to break my fall.
Cue: all girls go "awwwww" now.
Same applies if we take the downward-riding escalator.

I decided to highlight this to my unenlightened, Neanderthal E, who replied nonchalantly:
"But you'll only take me down with you, what's the point?"
Well made, point taken.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I decided, having children is risky business. They're bound to turn out totally different from what you expect them to be, be it from growing up in a different generation or from pure rebellion. Whatever it is, a great deal of time and effort has to be divested in a bid to understand them, and even then it is rare that your understanding concurs with theirs entirely. Which is to be expected, coming from different viewpoints, with different mindsets and levels of maturity. In all honesty, I'm scared to death of this child-rearing business. It's a thankless burden to be at best endured for about 20 years or so of your life, if you're lucky.
I think I'd stick to dogs.

It seems surreal, that I'd be leaving in about 10 days. There seems to be so much to accomplish within these 10 days, so many friends to meet up with, so many loose ends to tie up (eg buying of my bloody travel guides). And they all cost so freaking much!! Once again I'm broke..well, nobody's surprised of course, but I'm convinced I need all that I have been buying. I just need to stop spending $350 within a single day, like what I did yesterday.

Checklist of things left to do:

• Register with the MFA (need to find out how the hell I can do that)
• Pray that the MTI grant comes in, I really need that $3,000!
• Buy Lonely Planet/Frommers guide to travelling in China (~$50)
• Get Flu vacine that covers China Fujian virus ($21)
• Get travel medication from doc (don't want to think about it)
• Buy travel insurance (cheapest so far is $60/month)
• Haircut (~$20)

That's all for now..

My desk is the one in the middle of the right row of stations, and this is the most frequent view I get of my department, an aisle I have to pass through every time I enter the office for work, after lunch, back from toilet, etc. Incidentally, this is the direction I look most often as well, because my mentor sits on my left, and I always sneak peeks to make sure she's not wondering what I'm doing, opening all those weird looking windows. Furthermore, the gentleman in yellow in the glass-panel office is our Sales director, a dashing and talented man, a super eye candy! He speaks fluent English, Mandarin, Cantonese, and Hokkien, and is capable as hell. I got over the infatuation awhile ago, but still he is very charming. Negligible details include the fact that he's married with one son.

This is the day I've been waiting for ever since I started my internship 14 weeks ago: the end of it. From 03 May, I've been doing my countdown daily, irritating everybody around me. As I mentioned before, I don't hate my time at Fujitsu; rather, I'm counting down simply because I'd never have the luxury to do so ever again. The exhilaration of the countdown is not all that pleasant: I haven't felt this unsettled in a long while. I've made great friends here, learnt loads, done heaps. Now that it's time to move on, I'm afraid. Afraid of what the future holds, afraid of uncertainty. Afraid that I might not be able to survive China. Afraid that it would be a waste of time.

Maybe it's also the realisation that I only have 2 weeks more to spend with E before I leave. Hell, this is idiotic, but for the life of me I don't know what to say. The classic case of having "words failed me..". Be back if inspiration strikes.

I'm near death. I must be, for the doctor gave me a three day MC yesterday. Feeling all smug and sorry for myself, smug that I actually wrangled a three day MC (I still can't believe it), and sorry that I'm really this sick to warrant such a long break.



It was overall a satisfying experience, Bintan. Although I was sick for the entire time and had to go to bed before midnight for both nights, I was feeling much better on the third day, the only day the sun deigned to shine. I finally understood why the villas were going at such a steal; it was the freaking monsoon season!! We managed to have lotsa fun, nonetheless, and tried out some of the water activities. I didn't go on the jetski though, it was just too expensive to make sense, but some of the others did:



I contented myself with a banana boat ride, which at first I dismissed as a super lame ride. Still, it was only $10, and I climbed onto the banana without knowing what to expect. Essentially it's just this big rubber banana being towed by a speedboat, and passengers generally sit tight for the entire ride until the driver (steerer? operator?) of the boat throws the passengers off with a sharp swerve of the boat. For the three of us who tried the ride, though, it was another matter altogether. We capsized within 100 metres of the shore, and E told us that the angmohs on the beach were all laughing at us. It was the driver's fault, he looked real apologetic as he hauled us onto the rubber banana again (those biceps!). Naturally, we took it all in stride, and proceeded to 'corner' with the speedboat for subsequent turns, just like riding a motorcycle (I really need to resume my lessons). We got pretty good at it, until we overcompensated at one turn and went crashing into the water again. Damn if it didn't hurt, M and I both made a sommersault in the water before surfacing. That's three times we hit the water, including the last one that's on purpose. It was much longer than the stated 15 minutes, and it felt wonderful having the wind whipping against my face and the banana bouncing us along due to the huge waves. Here's a picture of our first capsize:



Another high point of the trip was the food: it was GOOD! One of the girls, P, has a dad who opens an Italian restaurant, and she helps out regularly at the restaurant, so pasta was heavenly. The BBQ didn't go as well as planned on the first night, and it was fortunate that the previous occupants of the villa left behind a huge bag of charcoal with half a box of firestarters, or we would have ended up stir-frying all those BBQ food. All the effort that went into starting the fire on the first night was extinguished halfway, quite literally, by E and J. J got it into his gifted brain that since alcohol is flammable, then throwing Absolut onto the charcoal would get the fire going, since the flames were still miserable after a couple of hours' of effort. E was more than glad to execute his plan, and this is what we got:



Of course the charcoal got wet from the Absolut (Mandarin, all the food had this weird tangy taste after that), and we had to begin the fire-starting from scratch. The guys cleared off, and P and I went on to start the fire successfully, without the use of any firestarter and alcoholic stunts. The BBQ on the second day was sumptuous, and we had a hell of a feast! Thank goodness the other three girls were such capable cooks, I did nothing more than slice the sausages and open the packaging of the linguine. I felt really small, I mean, people of my age can't cook, can they? The only problem is, both P and H are two years younger than I am, and they cook fine, and QY is totally competent in the kitchen as well. That leaves just me, the complacent one who still thinks she's entitled to not know how to cook. I shall endeavour to pick up some culinary skills along the way from now on, and hopefully I can claim that I can cook in time to come.



The man of the trip is our dear Mario, the chauffeur-cum-photographer-cum-waiter-cum-dishwasher. He's an exceedingly easy-going person with huge biceps and deltoids, a good catch! He took all our jibing in stride, and put on a wonderful 'Maria' accent while speaking about going to Orchard Plaza and what not. He was really obliging when ordered to drive us around; there were 8 of us and the buggy could only hold 4, so he had to make at least one more trip for each place we went. For putting up with all our shit, I award him the highest honour:



The best part of the trip was spending more time with E. Although we see each other everyday, I tend to be more uptight usually, and hence often snap at him for treading on my toes. Much of our time is thus wasted on my being mad at him; and it was a nice change during the trip, to concentrate on enjoying each other's company. Down to everything, we're quits, I like to think: He thinks that I'm a ridiculous creature, and I think that he's one too. There :)

Derived my inspiration from "My Sassy Girl":
 
What to tell his future girlfriend
 
Tell future girlfriend:

• To make sure he doesn’t catch a cold after baths, he doesn’t dry himself enough, ever.
• To tickle him to get him to do what you want.
• That he doesn’t like to meet people, even though he is a clown in crowds.
• That he may never love you the way you want, but that doesn’t mean you’re not the singularly most important thing in his universe.
• That he’s an idealistic dreamer whose head is in the clouds and feet too far from the ground, but that’s the only way he remains so cheerful all the time and bear with all the shit you pile on him, so don’t complain.
• To appreciate him for who he is, because he cannot help it just like dogs can’t help crapping all over the place. Expecting a change will be like asking my dog to use the toilet, lift the cover, and flush after use. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Learning to count my blessings, even if it kills me :)

Spent the better part of last night crying. Looked like super crap this morning, proceeded to cake my face with makeup so thick that it'd probably crack if i touched it. Liberal use of mascara, something that I usually avoid because I'm so bad at it, as a deterrent against more crying. Blood red lipstick to give some colour to listless face. I'd probably qualify for 'Freak of the Year', shall post up some pictures the moment I get my damn laptop back.

It started with E. Or I suppose I could say it started with me, my crabby, unreasonable character. Anyway, I ended up accusing him of being irresponsible, of causing me additional stress thanks to his deferred-responsibility policy, and proceeded to bawl my heart out. I knew all along that any expectation of him to take care of me is just a setup for disappointment, but sometimes I just wished he could pamper me, and let me freaking take a rest. I have eight hours less than him a day, committed to work, so I cannot see how out of those 8 hours can he not take the dogs out, help me out with errands and the like. The realisation that I ought never to have such expectations hit me like a boulder last night, and I simply could not stem the tears. Vastly exhausting, crying without restrain.

Then found out that my sister's ex-classmate passed away yesterday. He's also the son of Dad's ex-classmate, and I watched him grow up, of sorts. Brain tumour, then bone cancer, everything by the age of 18. It was incongruent with the image I held of him in my head, an impish scamp with the 'what-the-fuck' attitude that I couldn't stand. He was already an uncontrollable kid when we were in primary school, and the rebellious streak intensified when his mother passed away, also of cancer. It was heart-breaking to watch, his need to prove himself. He grew up alright though, I remember running into him a couple of years ago and thinking how he's allgrown up, tall, chiselled. Sis told me he was in the climbing club, in good shape until he was wasted by his illnesses. Spent another long while crying over him, somebody whom I've known all my life by have never spoken to. Rest in peace, XL.
 
Finished watching "My Sassy Girl" to take mind off things. Had the movie on my laptop for almost a year, and never managed to watch it to the end because I could never get past the second trip to the motel, I thought that the whole show was exceedingly frivolous, from the beginning up til that point. Only to find out that the entire show is exceedingly frivolous, but touchingly so. Had to cry again at the end of the movie, when they parted for two years...Oh well, I don't suppose it's worth my while describing the scene, since I must be the last person in the civilised world who have not watched "My Sassy Girl".

I should cut down on my marathon crying sessions, highly detrimental to appearance and sanity.

No chance of me falling asleep at work today. Can't eat or drink either, though.

I was rushing home for dinner on Friday after work. The train was less crowded than usual, a welcome relief and a pleasant touch to the end of the work week. When I boarded the east bound train at City Hall, I elbowed my way to the centre of the carriage to avoid the squeeze at the doors. I stood in front of two women, both who crossed their right leg over the left.

The lady on my left was a middle-aged women in black. Her right foot was getting in my way, and I was irritated because it was dangerously close to my left shin. I didn't manage to give her the evil eye, though, because she had her eyes firmly shut. It was alittle disconcerting to watch her after awhile, when it became apparent that she was not asleep. She shook her head in slight jerks periodically, and her body twitched as though involuntarily. She made small gestures with her right hand resting in the crook of the left one, and it was clear that she was agitated about something. She muttered under her breath sporadically, mouthing words rathering than uttering them.

I stared shamelessly, entranced by this picture of vulnerability in such a public area. She had a frown on her face, a look that says how on earth could this happen. Her immaculately coiffed hair only served to highlight the distress on her face, so incongruent the sight. As the train approached Tanah Merah, tears formed beneath her tightly shut eyelids and made their way down her face. A lone one fell onto her chest exposed by a low-cut blouse. The tears fell slowly, the effort to restrain them almost palpable.

I thought of my mother. The sight of such helplessness over one's actions brought about by an obviously distressing incident made me wonder if this is how my mother looked each time I pulled off something that she did not agree with. Maybe what I did made her cry in public once too. Maybe she internalised everything, causing such a massive buildup of vitrol that resulted in her present self. Maybe she was luckier, and had friends and my Dad to confide in. Maybe she was stronger, and chose to keep the tears in her heart. Whatever it is, I wouldn't know because my relationship with my mother had never developed to a point where I could ask her how she felt.

Disgust. At the indifference I felt towards my mother. I felt sorry for the lady in black, and wondered about the pain so great that couldn't be repressed, yet I've never given much consideration to the pain I caused to my mother. The empathy I so generously doled out to my friends was never extended to my mother, and it sickens me to think of all the times I spent counselling friends, trying to make them feel better, understanding and sympathising with their woes, when there is a much more deserving receipient of such attention. I cannot remember when I decided that my mother was not worth the effort. When she was critical about every single thing I did? When she told me to do more housework, use less of the Internet for chatting, and not to go out so often? When she grew so exasperated with me that she refused to speak to me? I don't have a clue, but I've forgotten what it was like, having a mother who's also an ally.

My husband was an engineer. Since I met him, he was always an unflappable rock in my life. I knew he always had his feet firmly planted on the ground, and it seemed that no matter what else went crazy, he would be the one constant.

Three years of romance, and two years of marriage later, I got tired. He was the most unromantic man I know. He never bought me flowers, he never surprised me, and nothing changed in our marriage. 

After some time, I finally found the courage to tell him that I wanted to leave him. He just sat there, speechless. My heart froze... what kind of man was I married to that didn't even know what to say to make me stay? 

After a while, he spoke, "What can I do to change your mind?" "I will stay if you can give me a good answer to this question," I replied coldly. "If I asked for a flower that grew on a cliff and you knew that getting it for me means certain death, would you get it for me?" His face grew troubled. 

Can I give you an answer tomorrow morning?" he asked. Hearing that kind of answer, my heart died. I knew that I could never be happy with a man who couldn't even give me an answer straight away. 

The next morning, when I woke up, he was missing. In the living room, under a warm glass of milk, was a note. My eyes grew misty as I read it... 

 Dear, I have my answer. I will never pick the flower for you if it meant certain death. But before you leave, I hope you can give me a chance to give you my reasons.... You will always sit in front of the computer and type about for the whole day, but every time you will end up in tears cause your formatting will always go all over the place... I need my fingers to do the formatting for you, so your tears will become smiles. You like to travel, but would always get lost... I need my eyes, so that I can bring you to the nicest places on earth. Every time you leave the house, you would always forget your keys... I need my legs, so that I can run home to open the door for you. You never knew how to take care of yourself... I need my hands to help you get rid of the pesky white hair you hate so much when you grow old, to trim your nails, to feed you. So you see, that's why I can't pick the flower for you. Until I find someone who loves you more than I do, I will need my body to take care of you. If you accept my reasons, then open the door, where I will be waiting with your favourite muffin."

With tears streaming from my eyes, I opened the door, and there he stood, with an extremely worried look on his face. He still had nothing to say, but just stood there waving the packet he had in his hand in front of me. And then I knew for a fact that I will never find another man who will ever love me as much as he does.

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean that they don't love you with all they have.

If someone comes into your life and becomes a part of you but for some reasons he couldn't stay, don't cry too much... Just be glad that your paths crossed and; somehow he made you happy even for a while.

The greatest regrets in our lives are the risks we did not take. If you think something will make you. happy, GO FOR IT. Remember that we pass this way only once.

-----------------------------------------------------
Usually it is the story that is cheesy, and the moral worthwhile. To me, at least. This time, it was the story that struck me, how well I identified with it. E said 2 nights ago: "I know you for who you are, whereas you still cannot see who I am for the image of who I ought to be."
 
Maybe it has been this way all the while, with every one of them. Maybe that's why there is so much unhappiness, so much pain. It's ironic, how I can accept my friends no matter how they behave, but not the ones closest to me. Is it really so important that he fails half of his subjects?That he laughs everything off with that flippant manner of his? How the hell will I know?

I'm reading this book, by Annonymous. It's about as trashy as it gets, disturbingly so. But there's this excerpt that hasn't left my mind since I read it:

"..you wonder why some people have a compulsion to allow chaos into their lives. To get attention? Sympathy? Love, to have it affirmed? Are you doing all these for your partner, perhaps; for him to notice you again, to be attentive, your best mate, like he was once?"

Is this me? To allow the mess to permeate my existence like a disease? Am I really that used to chaos that I cannot imagine living an umcomplicated, simple life? I do believe I have an overwhelming desire to be desired, to have people need me. Am I creating this need by providing conversation fooder, even though it's at my expense? Or maybe it's just that I have a natural propensity to find myself in trouble, wherever it may be. How tiring.

Writing during my lunch break, no point wasting it on meaningless chatter with colleagues who have no interest whatsoever in my life, but proceed to ask about it anyway. This template is cool! Now I have a whole array of options in this format, there are even bullets! Ah, I'm such a blog idiot.
 
I've decided that being a blog voyeur is so much easier than writing my own blogs. There's always the perennial question of exactly what in my life is so important to warrant hanging it out for all to see. Then there is the problem of the subject in question actually chancing upon this page. Finally, there's the awful feeling of dread when I realise that the life story that I've so bravely hung for all to see is just one among a million others, thereby deflating my sense of self-importance.
 
Ok, enough of skirting the subject. My problem: Dad just issued me with an ultimatum -  either I register, or move back. I must say that I was only mildly alarmed at his words, after all I ought to have realised that Dad will never find cohabiting acceptable. After 7 months, damned by my slip of tongue, Dad discovered that I was sharing E's room in his house, and not his sister's. Not that he never knew or suspected; apparently he uncovered a card that E gave me which contained some..uhm, raunchy details. Yeah. So, Dad already knew awhile ago that E and I were carvorting in bed, just that he chose to ignore it until I made it undeniably clear that it is so.
 
It's not that I cannot lie to him somemore; it's not all that hard to tell him that I'll go over and sleep with E's sister (which I never did), so that he'll let me continue to stay out. It's just that coming clean is such a liberating experience that I would like to keep it that way as far as possible. It's this stupid paradox that I'm trapped in, once again brought upon by my own selfishness. Because I want to feel liberated, I burdened Dad with the truth, which he knew all along anyway and did nothing, but felt that he had to do something since he officially knew now. On the other hand, I really want to continue living out because I enjoy the freedom, and this can only be achieved by a series of small white lies. Both contribute to the overall increase of my self satisfaction, while causing disturbances in the lives of Dad, family and E. Am I a bitch or what.
 
And there's the thing about registering. I know it's a stupid thing to do, I'll slap the senses out of any of my friends who want to attempt that. But..as mentioned, I've allowed myself to be lulled into lalaland, where I fantasize about spending the rest of my life with him. And yes, lalaland included wedding bells, damnit. So Dad's ultimatum wasn't all that bad a thing, shocking as it may sound. I must be losing my marbles, whatever happened to my loud declarations that humans weren't meant to be monogamous, only idiots get engaged at 21, and never depend on a man? I hate my weakness, to fall back into my childish desire to belong. To him.
 
Dad turned counsellor when I told him that it's not E who has no interest in getting married, but me. Of course I was speaking as the person I was last August, when the whole damn world camn crashing down just because of one freak. Somehow I consciously retained all that bitterness, while simultaneously turning into mush inside, dreaming of rings, vows and all. Messed up, I am. Anyway, Dad was real nice about it, he did his best to convince me that the last two abberations were not representative of the entire male population, that love is in the air, and most importantly, marriage is a must. "Marriage is a sign of commitment, of a shared goal that two people work towards so as to achieve completeness in their lives." Dad the romantic, how I love him :)
 
Today's lunch is Delifrance, courtesy of E's mum. I don't suppose she knows that she'd saved me from an instant noodle lunch, God bless her anyway. I've a whole array of foodstuff from home at my workstation, all for the sake of my lovely Minolta Xg.

Him

It's almost 9 months since the day we met at Tiesto. Almost 7 months from the day we officially recognised ourselves as a couple. More than 7 months since I moved in with him. Yet..It's impossible to ever know a person completely, surely. But, having shared his bed for this long, I still find it hard to understand his carefree demeanour. He personifies happy-go-lucky, to the last hypen. He tells me it is a defense mechanism, what he does not care about cannot hurt him. If he doesn't mind, it won't matter. Of course he says this doesn't apply to me, that with me he's vulnerable, exposed. But this doesn't manifest itself very well, and for the better part of the time I feel that he cannot be bothered about many things concerning us. I've tried to understand that this is how he embraces life, his version of the good life. So I'm back at the mantra that got us started in the first place: See how it goes. Amen.

I've allowed myself to fall back into the old trap of imagining life with him for the rest of my life. Things have never worked out in the past when I planned til kingdom come, so I resolutely promised myself that this time there will be none of such nonsense. Damnit. This time, however, there's no rosy picture of a happy family with 4 kids. It's more like a wondrous musing of what might be, a fuzzy look into the future if things remain status quo. It seems inevitable, the planning of one's life around the significant other. Or maybe it's just me.

I often wonder where his breaking point is. I'm not the most pleasant of people to get along with, and he always gives in to me, even when 99% of the time it is my fault for flying into a tantrum in the first place. I wonder what will happen the day he decides that he doesn't have to put up with such behaviour.

Work
Looking at my trusty desk calendar, I have another 18 working days until the end of my internship. 17, if I exclude the Friday that I'll be on leave (wheeeeee!!). My mentor who sits beside me finally noticed my fervent countdown on my calendar, marked by a backward count of 30 days in bold marker and a big fat red cross over each day that has passed. She commented casually (at least I thought it was casually, I'm never sure of what's casual and what's not around her), "Wah, like in jail ah, all the mark-outs."

It's not like I'm not enjoying my time at Fujitsu. In fact, I must say I'm having a better internship experience than most, minimal stress except on a few occasions, learning heaps about my own laptop, and soaking up all the lessons I need about office politics. It seems odd, then, that I complain about my work every chance I get. It's just that I'm not used to the loss of autonomy over my own life. It pisses me off that for peanuts, I have to devote 1/3 of my life for 14 weeks to a desk-bound job. Maybe it has to do with the pay, the paltry amount that I'm receiving does not warrant an eager jump out of bed everyday to dash to office and confront the work at hand. I will eventually have to get used to this, I'm relishing the countdown just because I can, because I have something else to get back to. This will also be the last time I'm this lucky, I might as well make the best of it.

Time to start work. UGH :)

I haven't done anything consistently for awhile now (except maybe to go to work?), and it's hard work remembering to post after the initial excitement wore off. Oh well, maybe a little practise will take care of that.

I've been trying to read the blogs of my friends whenever possible, and Y's posts always lead me back to XiaXue's blog. Admittedly, the posts are a very interesting read indeed; sometimes ludicrous, always hilarious. It makes me wonder what kind of person she is in real life. Does she or does she not want recognition? It always crosses my mind when I read her disclaimers that Xiaxue is her own person, and Wendy is somebody you don't want to know. If it is somebody you don't want to know, then why is there all the pictures? I was amazed to find that she's only 20, that is alot of..insight for somebody who's not so old.

I bought the digicam that I've been hankering after for ages! Its a Minolta Xg, and I got it for SGD550, with a case and a 128 memory card. I'm convinced that it is a good buy, for the sake of my conscience. I'm left with $8.58 in my account, and I'm going to subsist on instant noodles for the rest of the month. It's not a bad way to go: buy first, save later. Yeah, crap, but anything to make myself feel better. L told me:

"People like you have 10cents in your pocket, and proceed to spend 20cents."

That deflated my bubble quite a bit, I was preening from my supposed steal. Besides, I'm going overseas, I do need a camera, don't I?

There already is a camera at home.
But the family will need it in the 5 months I'd be gone.
There's no need for a digi cam.
But that will allow me to take so many more pictures.
You don't bloody need such an expensive model.
Yes I bloody well do, so that I can bring it around wherever I go.
And lose it wherever you want.

I'm beginning to sound like my mum.

Anyway, I shan't whine about it no more; I always believed that if it is within my means to change things and make them better/the way I want them to be, then I have no business bitching about it. Nice philosophy to live by, doesn't help a damn thing. Shall draw up another strategy to help save money. How the hell did L get to know me so well?

Hmm, the published date is the of the one when I first started out my draft? How odd. Shouldn't it be the date of the last update?

Shall try to include some pictures here, its getting too green even for my taste. Now, as soon as I get the hang of using Hello..C must be joking, I still have absolutely no idea how to use the darn programme. Doesn't help that office blocked that one as well.

I'm a control freak. I have an overwhelming need to know where each of my belongings is, and how exactly I may find them. I cannot relinquish a modicum of control over my life to anybody, and get bloody frustrated when it happens. That's why I choose to organise trips even when it's such a freaking hassle. That's why I hog the remote control at ktvs (even I realised that fact).

That's why I absolutely cannot comprehend how anybody can allow themselves to be unable to do without anything else, be it an object or person. But especially people. Objects are safer; if my notebook breaks down I can buy another one, if my favourite dress is worn I can always find another dress to call favourite. But people? When he tires of you, or dies, or goes into a state of vegetation, or finds a younger, more nubile and willing partner, then what's going to happen to the "I can't live without him!"? I don't care what the textbook definition of love is, I find self-preservation a much more important cause. And if my inability to surrender myself totally to another party means I'm a selfish piece of shit, when he/she has given it all, then so be it.

When you cannot find anything to blame for your behaviour, there's always your parents. It's a favourite habit of mine, to pin all my faults on how my parents brought me up. I'm an ungrateful brat, really. And I've found a new one to explain my obsession with control: Because I had such a sad neglected childhood, it strengthened my resolve never to rely on anybody, since the only person that will never let me down is myself. What I'm saying is, if I do everything by myself, I cannot blame others for what'll happen. I can't let myself down unless I pin the blame, anyway. I know this is very poor deduction, and my parents tried their best to give me a good upbringing, so whatever screw-ups are solely my responsibility. It's just so much easier if I could justify it. Ah, another sign of my control-compulsiveness, a need to explain everything (away). I need to sort myself out.

Today's a good day. I don't feel tired even though I slept at 3 a.m. this morning. Haven't fallen asleep at all! Meeting dajie for lunch in 2 hours' time. My presentation to the department is over, and I'm back to reliable, boring old data entry. JM's coming over tonight to stay over; E'll be ecstatic *rolls eyes* I got to sing for a solid 5 hours yesterday. xiaoma called when she returned from Lund yesterday. I'll be seeing my family on Sun. All's good!

Today's a bad day. I woke up feeling like crap, got better when I got into the car though. I reached office only to find the office dark, and the cleaning auntie sitting outside. She asked me "Do you have the key?", and I don't even know of a key to the place, so I said no. We proceeded to wait for 20 minutes before one of the full time staff came about, and she unlocked the place with an access card. An access card which I also have. Felt like a fool, why on earth did I not try that..grr. Then I tried to transfer funds between my bank accounts via Internet Banking. Ended up having to call UOB 3 times to ask for a password reset, help with the fund transfer, and for the branch and bank code, in that order. Elbows hurt, need to stop giving it abrasions. New assignments from boss. Another 26 whole days before internship ends. BROKE! Totally! Busted 1.2k last month. I'm still in shock.

That's today.

Some of the euphoria of being an exhibitionist has dissipated, leaving me with little more than a curiosity of who might come by and read my entries. Also wondering how may I keep up with regular posts, seeing that I'd be maniacally busy when my internship ends (in 28 days' time)

Was at Pacific Plaza at Orchard last night when I received news of the blackout. Called home at about 10.30 to chat with Dad, only to have my sister exclaim excitedly "Got blackout!". Brings back memories of all those blackouts we endured in China in the past, where there is this sudden camaraderie among all who's affected. Specifically, I remember Mum suddenly appearing more like a mother, fussing over me, and I in turn trying to make sure that she's ok, and not trying to move around in the dark. Poignant moments, these. When Mum drops whatever shield she's constructed to protect herself against more disappointment, I can almost see a glimpse of what might have been, had we not wrecked it. Yes, we. Not just my fault, nor only hers. It is a rift borne of our stubborness, pride, and unwillingness to admit our mistakes. Oh well.

Ok guys, here I am! After years of being a blog voyeur, I'm finally trying to enter the world of blogging (for the second time). The first was on livejournal, but there was just something very distasteful about sharing my life on the same website that hosts P's blog, I might catch something that I wouldn't even know about until I'm 30 or something.

I like reading people's blogs. Other than for pure comic relief (like that P's), its always good to keep up with the going-ons in my friends' lives. I agree with a friend that bloggers ultimately are writing for the viewing pleasure of others, so that whatever's posted will never be our innermost, truest thoughts. But well, I shall give it a go, since YC's found it so therapeutic. Another reason is that blogs are about the only sites that my company has yet to block. It's blocked yahoo, hotmail, icq (even the web-based icq2go), AIM, YIM, and goodness know what else. Friendster's been my best friend for the longest time, but its time to move on. :)

Another 29 days to the end of my internship! Seriously feeling quite apprehensive about going to China, as the date of departure draws near. This feeling was intensified when I was given a 21 page proposal in Chinese to read through yesterday, about one of our potential service providers in China. It was such a hard time, trawling through all those long forgotten Chinese characters. I promised myself I would start reading Chinese materials, but there's always something better to do: a better English book to read, clothes to wash, gatherings to attend, dogs to walk..I'm just a bloody procrastinator.

God I'm whining. I sincerely hope my blog doesn't turn out to be comic relief for others, I might as well just lay down and die, to be placed in the ranks of P.

*off to inform the whole world about my newfound space*