The prawn diaries.

The prawn diaries.



HM came by to pass me some unmentionables, so I stuck to my end of my bargain and made lunch. Nothing fancy pancy, just garlic prawns and bok choy stir-fry. The recipe called for it to be served on a bed of herbed rice but alas, I don't have a garden overflowing with mint leaves and parsley. So I used rice stick noodles instead.

The pretty average taste's nothing worth mentioning really, but I must talk about my harrowing experience with shelling the prawns.

I took the bag of prawns out from the fridge, untied the knot, and stared dumbfounded into a mass of feelers and slimy grey shells. I don't know why, but I couldn't quite bring myself to put my hands on them.

So I dumped the prawns onto the chopping board, and hacked off the heads without actually touching them. Quite a feat I must say, but avoidance only got me this far. There was no way I could shell the prawns with only a knife without risking any self-amputations.

So I took a deep breath, and rather daintily picked up a prawn in my left hand, only to instinctively fling it away once my right fingers made contact.

In all honesty, this isn't my virgin experience shelling prawns, so I couldn't quite drum up an explanation for the sudden squeamish behavior. And I was honestly rather dumbfounded by me! So I sucked it up, took a deep breath (of fishy prawns) and literally talked myself through the process of shelling those 10 prawns. A series of "what is wrong with you?", "come on" and "don't be silly" later and I was finally done. Phew.

No prawns for awhile now.

Bittersweet.

Bittersweet.



I think my Warehouse toga dress is officially the sabo dress. The last time I wore it to Marc's commissioning ball, we got sabo-ed to do some Malay dance on stage. This time around at Fagan's OCS social night, we were made to do a catwalk as one of the "best couples". But it's all in good fun, haha.

I actually enjoyed the dinner, for there were a series of live performances by the cadets, like an especially swoonworthy acoustic set playing my kind of songs. And Jingyi, the girl seated beside me, proved how true the whole six degrees of separation logic is. Two degrees for us, I'd say. We shared not one but at least ten friends from my secondary and university. How's that for coincidence!

Headed down thereafter for another of our impromptu reflective coffee dates, where we reminiscised about the past as usual, and adjusted to feeling grown up. Hard not too when you see your once boyish buddy in the driver's seat. It's bittersweet. :)

Five weeks left at home.

Five weeks left at home.

The worst of the papers are over, and I'm left to sit for my Malay Language exam exactly a week from now. I've s/u-ed the subject (for the uninitiated, it's an option to not have the grade be included in my grade point average), so there's little stress there.

So technically... the holidays have started. It feels a little surreal I guess. This time each year, I'd be busy trip-planning for my short getaways, as well as baking, shopping and doing all things festive.

Well, the festivity's still in the air, and the holiday dinners are on as planned, but I'm not jetting away for a week this time around, but a good five to six months. That makes approximately 20 to 24 weeks.

Trip planning in India should be a project-based exam in itself. There are so many things I'd like to see, but the names of the cities and the options are baffling and infinite. Two afternoons of research, and I've finally gotten a vague gist of how India's topology. Phew.

Five weeks left in Singapore, and it kinda feels like time is running out with the million and one things I want and have lined up to do.

Events and meet-ups

• Fagan's OCS Social Night
• FOC handover barbeque
• Meet-up with Jane, Marc and Fag
• Meet-up with Kar Ern
• Meet-up with CPM babes
  
• Christmas movie tradition with Justin and YH
• Shopping with bitch
  
• Fagan's birthday chalet
• "Farewell" (?)
  
• Christmas dinner with the girls
• Christmas dinner with Spottiswoode gang
  

The must-dos

• Study for Malay (hah, like I can run away from that)
• Apply for student Visa
• Go for medical checkup
• See family doc for pills to take abroad
• Pay for air ticket
• Pack luggage
• Meet up with Erwin's friend to India advice
• Meet up with uncle's friends for India advice (?)
  

The fun to-dos

• Shop for Christmas presents
• Finish up yoga package
• Shop for tees and, to quote my well-meaning friends, "something less revealing"
• Bake
• Cook

Life took a teeny strain earlier on in the week, but normality's seeping back. I got to talk and finally tell my bitch about the happenings, and I met up with my poly girlfriend Jane as well.

It felt like the good old times, sitting down in chilly Ikea and talking about nothing and everything. I was reminded of the time we sprawled on the TP library couches, talked, and fell asleep or something, in the middle of a school day! Haha. Do you have any recollection of that woman??

But it was a good session, one where we kinda unloaded our burdens on each other. It's different I guess, friendships that start from your teens. We're kinda watchig each other grow up, yet at the same time holding on to the fact that we haven't really changed at all. :)



And I got up to a spot of baking earlier this afternoon. They're oatmeal raisin cookies (can't quite see the raisins here), but surprisingly crunchy and light. Am gonna pass some to Ceci, and I'll see if the boys are at home.

Time to hit the showers and head for yoga.

If I could say it to your face...

If I could say it to your face...

Write down what you've always wanted to, but never or could never say to people. They remain anonymous.

1. As much as I am thankful for this sometimes telepathic friendship bond we share, it frustrates me how I always seem to have to be the one contacting you. And it hurts that I don't quite know how to speak to you now, seeing how I am sandwiched in between circumstances I would have never wished upon myself.
   
   
2. I think it's cool how we share the same interests, and I'm thankful for that, but your indifference and curt, vague, text replies irritate sometimes.
   
   
3. I'm always dreaming of you. I think it's sad how we've barely talked since, and I feel like I've lost a soulmate.
   
   
4. It hurts and frustrates to watch you each day, and sometimes I stay in bed until you leave just so I wouldn't have to start the day with your burden. It's selfish, but I just don't know how to help you anymore.
   
   
5. I cry when I think about the day you'd have to leave, and I worry about you all the time.
   
   
6. I know we aren't close, and that it is partly my fault for building up these defenses. But hearing tales of how you made it through life really made me see how strong you are, and I think I got part of your fighting spirit.
   
   
7. I like talking to you, and how it makes me feel all fuzzy inside. I don't think my teeny teenage crush ever fully disappeared.

I tag everybody and anybody who has something they need to get off their chests. Anonymity is key.

The faux domestic goddess.

The faux domestic goddess.



Improved a little on the presentation of the melt-in-the-mouth kisses yesterday, and they went down really well with the family. Looks a little like mini cream puffs eh? And Christmas is drawing near, so no harm in a little recipe testing.

I know it's the last thing I should be doing on a Sunday before an exam, but it's an open-book format.

One of my girls (they're twins) cried during piano yesterday. She was really disappointed I suppose, having just showed me her Star Award (this primary school result-related trophy), only to make several mistakes in the theory revision test.

It made me think how getting 100 marks means the world to a seven year old. I probably would have had the same reaction when I was her age, but as I sat there stroking her hair and wiping her tears, I thought about how inconsequential marks are when placed beside other more realistic problems. Such is the difference in perspectives between the world of the naive child and that of a jaded new adult.

Older and wiser, or older and wearier? You decide.

Ephemeral restrictions.

Ephemeral restrictions.
feeling: lethargic
music: mika - grace kelly


picture from http://www.ricksmovie.com

A tacky thing to commemorate perhaps, but we were R-21 first timers, all four of us. Until last night that is.

I thought Lust, Caution was a good choice. There were those acrobatic and sometimes brutal sexual moves that had us tilting our heads and frowning in wonder, but the love scenes were actually an integral part of the storyline, and an uncliched romantic undertone shone through.

No gripes, except for this stabbing scene. I thought it truthfully portrayed the emotions behind a first time killling, but the fact that the guy didn't seem to die after 20 stabs made it seem a little like a scene out of an old Chinese horror movie. Haha. But it's all good.

There and back again.

There and back again.

I feel like we've been here before
that road
that path
that sunset walk

Affection left dormant
or intermittenly tamed
did I ever come close
to kindling a flame?

A flight of fancy
in gilded light
where memories and
reveries collide

Lazy nights and lazier mornings.

Lazy nights and lazier mornings.



Dinner was a late and leisurely affair at a bistro that reminded us of the one in No Reservations. We sat at the counter, and browsed cookbooks of every imaginable cuisine between courses. In short, this bistro blurred the mutually exclusive categories of good food and unpretentious surroundings these days.

I've often wondered, when reading one of Wong Ah Yoke's food reviews in Life!, what he meant when he said that he could taste the freshness of the flavors, or that the freshness of the ingredients were not masked.

Well, I finally know.

The prawn caesar salad was refreshingly light and the sprinkling of grated parmesan added just enough richness. The tuna and mango sandwich had a unique undertone that set it apart from other off-the-counter tuna sandwiches. The sticky date pudding was out of this world. And the sprinkling of blueberries that came with the pudding.... wait a minute, I think this was my first time eating fresh blueberries and not frozen ones.

There's nothing like a satisfying yoga session and an enjoyable dinner to usher in the early weekend (even one of mind-numbing studying) I think.

There were only three of us in class, and the personalised attention meant that we could tackle a variety of more challenging poses. I lost count of the number of headstands and handstands we attempted, but it was one heck of a workout. Phew.

The family's made the impromptu decision to walk outside for breakfast bright and early tomorrow. I'll subject myself to coffee.. and leave the stomach space for brunch at Cedele with Ceci. We've waited far too many weeks for the pancakes.

All the cookbooks have rekindled the dormant domestic goddess in me. Be gone exams, so I can start entertaining!


I think this was New Year's Eve... 2004? Or was it 2003?

One of those things to do before I die...

One of those things to do before I die...


picture from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mychatham/698728600/

Go to a drive-in theatre.

Caution, hump ahead.

Caution, hump ahead.
music: athelete - lucy in the sky with diamonds cover



I lost my spectacles last Sunday. Thought I dropped it at the Sunfest tent, but the organizers haven't been able to find it. I'd been optimistic in thinking it'd turn up sometime soon, like how I've lost and found my wooden ring umpteen times, and I've thus spent this whole week in a state of semi-clarity. That didn't actually hit me until I was in the cinema to catch Stardust earlier in the night, and I realized how the details were a little fuzzy. Kinda explains the on-off headaches this week I suppose.

Watching Turn Left Turn Right last night got me thinking about my primary school crush, Yeo Gin Kiat. He was my senior in the English Club, and I remember noticing him after my friend and I were made to share a two-person carriage with him in Asian Village's Mystery Mine ride. My only memories of him now are of long limbs and "curry pok" hair, but boy, I think I crushed on him for a good two and half years - nearly a lifetime when you're in primary four! Do you still remember your primary school crush?

Anyway, here's a little something I wrote during one of Neil Humphrey's travel workshops last week. Figured I'd better immortalise it here before I misplace that scrap piece of foolscap.

Many mourned the loss of the loved ones they lost in the Bali bombings, but Mr. X mourned the fact that his wife survived. Chatty and downright charming, it is hard to peg the 45-year-old gentleman as an evil husband who wishes his wife dead.

"We were having dinner when all of a sudden, there was this deafening explosion and chaos immediately after," he recounted. his smiling face darkening with memories.

"She died," he said, almost a matter of factly.

"Your wife?" I asked.

"No, my lover!" he countered, seemingly shocked by my assumption. "I wish she did though. I can't divorce her without having her sue me for every cent I'm worth."

"Life would be perfect now if she were dead. I should have taken her out to dinner instead," he mused.

Good night world.

Fate, the playful child.

Fate, the playful child.
music: 孫燕姿 - 遇見



Love at first sight
By Wislawa Szymborska

"They're both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
Since they'd never met before, they're sure
that there'd been nothing between them.
But what's the word from the streets, staircases, hallways---
perhaps they've passed by each other a million times?
I want to ask them
if they don't remember---
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?
a cut "wrong number" caught in the receiver?
but I know the answer.
No, they don't remember.
They'd be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them now for years.
Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.
There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn't read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood's thicket?
There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.
Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through."

Describing the movie as cliched would be a serious understatement, but I think the narrative more than redeemed it.

So what if the coincidences depicted were eerily uncanny and unrealistic? In fact, the movie touched me in a way my usual fare of chick flicks haven't been able to.

The lines were honest yet romanticised, and to me at least, deeply moving. And if the lines weren't enough, I fell hook, line, and sinker for the poem.

Not a bad way to welcome the weekend, after a near hellish week of midnight deadlines and 4-hour bedtimes. Good morning Saturday.