Run off the cookies, smelly!

Run off the cookies, smelly!
feeling: excited

I've laid off running for awhile now, for I'd stopped feeling the high I got in the past while training for Real Run or even on those NTU night runs with Silver. Sick of the pool (and frankly a little worried about the sun exposure) and inspired by Jared's commitment to his running workouts, I strapped on my Asics, plugged in my iPod and gave my neighbourhood pavements a good pounding this morning.

It felt good.

Lanxi and I have signed ourselves up for the Shape Run on 9 September. We've been favouring the pool way too often since we left school, and the 5km run sounds way less threatening than the 10km one. Heh. I'm looking forward to our training sessions though.



And look at what I got up to earlier this afternoon.





Doesn't look too bad eh? It tastes pretty good too, I must say. Haha! Off I go to collect my new specs (I sure need them!) and then to Wala's with the babes. And I'm looking forward to tomorrow's orientation package delivery cum animal road trip! Jinli, our lives are in your hands. This is a solemn plea. Hah.

Visual communication.

Visual communication.
music: the letterman - put your head on my shoulder

A round up of the events thus far. The words will take a backseat, and I'll let the pictures do the talking.

A day out at Tanjong Beach with the Spottis guys last Tuesday. Kenrick looks all proud in his new ride, while I was mighty hormonally cranky.





There was the drive down to NTU to settle admin matters, a Fisherman's Wharf dinner; an evening stroll around Clarke Quay; and eating ice cream by the riverbank.



And then, there was the big Spottiswoode cookout. Big in terms of spirit, not size. It ain't that big a neighbourhood you know, haha.

The guys and I woke up and drove to the market at 7:30 in the morning to get the freshest catch... and also because I had to be home for subject registration at 9:30.





That's CH starting a fire, CH eating, CH's downfall, and the lemongrass prawn skewers I made.



The many facets of Ken: The Vietnamese satay man; the retarded stingray fanatic; the Phantom
of SpottisOpera.

And just earlier on Sunday was Cat's birthday dinner, where I had a mighty good time chatting and catching up with the hospi gang. And on Monday was TCC cum Krispy Kreme tea with Jinli; and a bak kut teh dinner with Mich C. at her workplace's unofficial coffeeshop. Her colleagues were very, very, very friendly people, and Wing Hong had me clutching my sides.



Tuesday was a day of important meet-ups - first with Charmain over cake and tea at Cedele, (Ceci, the Carrot Cake was five bucks of moisty, melt-in-the-mouth goodness. No more apprehension on our next visit!) and then with Jason over dinner and winter shopping.





There was the musical massacre + errands + shopping + food session in town with my disgusting creatures. Heh heh, term spoken in endearment. And of course we did what the three of us did best - talk incessantly.

And of course, dear Shannon bestowed this upon us, all the way from the States.



T'is the season for Krispy Kremes.

Always On Your Side.

Always On Your Side.
Performed by Sheryl Crow and Sting.

My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
But every now and then you come to mind
Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side

Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
But my demons and my angels reappeared
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought I'd be
Too afraid to hear the words I always feared
Leavin' you with only questions all these years

But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
This isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be

Well they say that love is in the air, but never is it clear,
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away
And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side

But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
When this isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be

Well if they say that love is in the air, never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly why do they fly away
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why

Was it you that kept me wondering through this life
When you know that I was always on your side.

Meditations.

Meditations.
music: josh groban - february song



While my schedule has been pretty much packed the whole of last week, my mind lived a life of its own amidst the activities. I don't think I've ever had so many pockets of reflections in awhile.

I haven't been scrambling to dictate all these churning thoughts, and after awhile, they kinda got tangled up into a web of disarray. It's gonna take quite a few posts and a lot of distraction-free thinking to really get the intangible thoughts out into words, but I will, for that's how I make sense of it all.

I was at the hairdresser's a few days ago, and while randomly flipping through a female magazine, I was drawn into a feature on Cambodia. Now, this wasn't a travelogue praising the ethereal beauty of Ang Kor Wat. In fact, the sacred ruins weren't mentioned at all in the entire 4-page article.

It was instead about a woman's venture into the slums of Cambodia; of her account of children living beside dumping grounds as large as six football fields combined; of how these children willingly exposed themselves to the risks and diseases working in garbage brought, just to get the "first and best catch" each day to make a measley 50 cents for 12 hours of work.

Midway through the first page, I found myself holding back tears.

The next page talked about child prostitution and trafficking, a topic I'd touched on in my speech presentation last semester. It talked of the rampancy of HIV, and how parents refused to let their children be taken to shelters, for these children could be used as rice bowls be it through begging or prostitution. It talked of how brothels would approach families with teenage daughters, proposing to buy their virginity. It talked about the fight for survival, and unlike most feel-good stories, there didn't seem to be even a hint of a rainbow at the end of this article.

I sat there in the salon chair, watching my hairdresser in the mirror. Here I was signing away my money - multiples of the 50 cents those children had to break their backs for; while right here in Southeast Asia, people were battling malnutrition, diseases and perhaps having their innocence brutally taken.

What was I doing? What are we all doing, in our fan-cooled comforts?

I came home and searched online for aid trips, but many turned out to be mission trips. It is against my belief that one has to be of a certain religion to lend a hend, so please, drop me a tag if you know of any non-religious help aids to Cambodia.

I talked to Justin Z. later about it, and I found his sentiments pretty interesting. He told me he had toyed with the idea of going on such trips before, but soon felt that the help one rendered was akin to building sandcastles along the shoreline. I can't argue that, for poverty really is widespread.

What then should one do, I asked. Sit under the palm trees and watch as others scramble to build sandcastles which will be washed away once the tide rises, or join the fools in the losing battle against nature?

And is this appalling chasm between the rich and the poor nature, or nurture?

Behind closed doors.

Behind closed doors.

After a good six-month hiatus, Charmain and I are having a proper chat that extends beyond the superficial catch-ups our conversations have become of late. It doesn't seem like it now, but she was actually the first person I called when the reality of my then-breakup sank in. I remember how she rushed over from her hall to mine that Tuesday afternoon, listening patiently as I alternately bawled and sniffled from a cold I was fighting.

Earlier this morning, my mom approached me for a talk, and I verbalised all the internal fears, worries and frustrations I'd kept bottled up for so long.

I know how fortunate I am to be so loved by them. Yet, this same love sometimes leaves me feeling oppressed and restrained. With love comes bonds, and obligations which I can't leave behind.

While I can be rather loose-lipped about issues like gossips and infatuations, I remain fiercely guarded over private matters. Ever since Jason, the last person whom I allowed into such privacy, and broke up; I haven't been compelled to share such thoughts with anyone else. It seems somewhat narcissistic to have to bore another with details so important to you and yet so insignificant to him/her.

Intentional oblivion helped in phases, and I honestly wouldn't have talked about it to anyone at all if Charmain hadn't approached me on msn about something different altogether. The topic soon drifted, and instead of my usual "i'm good and you?" response to "how are you?" questions, I found myself letting it all out. Which was incredibly therapeutic and a huge load off my overworked shoulders.


I hope I was the same to you as you were to me babe. I am your self-appointed yoga guru. Don't seek, and you may just find. Haha!

Sunrises and car crashes.

Sunrises and car crashes.
music: nickelback - far away

We didn't quite make it for the darkened sky turns pink stage of sunrise, and the last kiss of night was seen from inside the car.



Bathed in the day's first light and with a slight sting of the dawn's bite still in the air, Upper Pierce had a quiet beauty that surpassed the need for rosy hues.



The play of light resulted in a subtle riot of colours reflected on the calm reservoir waters, almost as if a rainbow had burst and fallen into it.



On the rocky bank, morning glories in the palest of lavender turned their sleepy faces to greet the day.



We made our way down a rolling hill, and this shot I took from where I was standing below made me think of the novel If You Could See Me Now by Cecilia Ahern.



I felt like I had entered a world of make-believe, where the sun hung not only in the sky but also suspended in the still waters...



Where clouds floated on water...



And where earth, sky and water existed as one.







While Dweeb goes off scavenging for fishes, I find myself a giant amongst giants.



This spot looks like a page in an Enid Blyton novel. A serene sanctuary untouched by time and logic; where red-faced children drank from stream waters and had tea with fairies in their tree trunk homes.



This other spot makes me think of Malaysian rainforests, and I could almost imagine jungle children swinging from the vines and diving into streams.



These concrete dams made me think of white water rafting and waterfalls.





I thought I'd try a shot and post a shout-out from a faux waterfall.



Bad attempt I know, but you can't blame a girl for trying.

After a damn shiok prata breakfast at Casuarina Curry, our dilemma as to where to head to next were shelved when a mini collision occured, sending the quiet morning into a flurry of panic, car workshops and the dreaded parentals. Can't and won't go into details, but nobody's hurt thank goodness.