It was all over in a New York minute…

I can’t exactly remember why we decided to travel to New York this particular year but I remembered that frisson of excitement when our hostel and flight bookings were confirmed. This was back in December, half a year from our date of departure. While an early booking was initially seen as our way of preventing any pull-outs or procrastination on our part once the semester began, the excitement and anticipation for a distant reality soon ebbed in the onslaught of readings, performances, papers, exams and family drama.

Closer to our date of departure, I began to feel, what I dub as, Amazing Race jitters. Not that the journey we were about to undertake was as extensive nor as exhausting as the actual Amazing Race (nor could we drive stick, a crucial element of the reality game show). I was just worried that maybe we make good friends but lousy travel buddies. Admittedly, I’m not the most exciting nor the most sociable person. My idea of a good night is primarily curling up with a good novel/ graphic novel or marathoning a TV series. With tea. Or instant coffee because I can’t make a decent cup of coffee from scratch. (That’s what my barista brother is for.)

Essentially, I was worried that my lackadaisical ways would affect the spirit of of our trip and in effect jeopardise a 9 year friendship.

Day 1

I arrived at the airport first, armed with a carry-on and a luggage. 10 minutes later Mary arrived similarly armed, with her mother and her aunt followed by another aunt , a cousin and her spouse. Then Sadikin and his brother.

My mother made her presence known by CONTINUOUSLY texting me to keep my belongings close. Evidently the frequent airport announcements about not leaving belongings unattended are insufficient.

By then, I realised I had forgotten my iPad which I had loaded with Doctor Who, Sherlock, Community and New Girl episodes. I was not happy especially since we had a pretty long transit in Hong Kong especially on the return journey.

I had one more hiccup at the departure gate. The officer was unsatisfied with the way they had printed my name: last name/ first name, citing that he only had my interest at heart . I had to walk back out of the departure gate and head to the airline counter to request that they change it to first name/ last name. Inside, I was dreading if this was how each security checkpoint was going to be but it turned out that it was only this Malay officer who had a problem with it. Every other security personnel was fine with how my name (last name/first name) was printed on the rest of my boarding passes.

Thank god.

Highlights of the Flight

Justin

Due to confusion about the numbered seats in the plane, Mary and I ended up swapping seats. This is how I met Justin.

Me: Is this row 44?
Justin: Yup.
Mary: But… I think –
Justin: Oh sorry! Nope you’re not this is 45.
Me: (stares at Justin suspiciously) Are you sure?

I just sat there anyway. He then proceeded to pity me for having the misfortunes of getting the middle seat while humblebragging about his 6 foot 3″ frame. He should have saved the pity for himself though. Middle seat or not, there was no way he could get comfortable in economy. Especially when the dude in front of him changed the incline of his seat, effectively constraining him further. Seeing the agony on his face, you’d think he was reenacting that scene in Saw where the walls close in on Scott Patterson.

When he wasn’t making the seats creak with his attempts at getting comfortable , or stealing my leg room, he was really friendly. I learnt that he:
-grew up in New Jersey but has lived in New York for 9 years
-works for IBM and has to constantly travel (He was going to be leaving for London in 10 days. Hope he didn’t fly economy.)
-Is in a serious relationship with his Russian girlfriend
-LOVES Game of Thrones!!! And other business shows (whatisthiseven)

GAME OF THRONES
I had been meaning to watch this series but had to put it on hold since I was already juggling too many television series during the school semester (commend me for my discipline thanks). So I was super stoked when I found out that the little entertainment unit in front of me had the entire season 1 of GoT AND the first episode of the second season. Best plane journey ever! Period (See what I did there, see! Nevermind.)

Plus, I think I did a good deed for my suffering friend Justin who was either miserably doing work on his laptop or just miserable. Each time there was a sex scene or nudity, nary a creak nor a keyboard tap could be heard. He was evidently a hardcore fan of GoT. Not so much the Chinese lady on my other side though. I wonder what she had thought about the weirdo Muslim girl and giant American man staring at boobies on a tiny screen.

Johnny and the International Student Center
For the first three nights we stayed at the International Student Center, dorm-style. This meant bunk beds, 6 other roommates, 8 girls to a toilet, the whole shebang. You might think 8 girls using 1 toilet would be chaotic and messy but each time I used the toilet, it was quite pristine. The whole building was, actually. This is probably due to the center’s intensive cleaning regiment which requires everyone to evacuate the building from 11am to 3pm. It didn’t affect us because we were usually out of there by 9 am.

The person who greeted us when we first arrived at the hostel was Johnny. He was really friendly and was pleased to hear we were from Singapore because he has a best friend from Singapore! Wow, small world indeed. He then proceeded to share his knowledge of Singapore:

1. Most of us are bilingual (True)
2. We are taught English and Singaporean in school (Not so much)

So we had a little cultural immersion session to put his misconceptions to rest. Aren’t we good ambassadors of Singapore, lol. All that inculcation is finally paying off.

Since this is starting to resemble a meandering epic, the rest of Day 1 and Day 2 will continue in another blog post.

Last thing: Americans speak really loudly. While I was speaking to Justin on the plane I was concerned that our conversation would wake the entire plane. So I lowered the volume of my voice. But Justin couldn’t hear me and thought I called him old. I went along with it anyway because it was true-ish.

Can(e) You Believe This?! or Welcome Back Jill!

So I meant to post this on Christmas Day but laziness got in the way. So forgive me if candy canes and all things festive are stale news to you.

It is Christmas morning and I am in my PJs, eating blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes while watching Jesse Eisenberg and Aziz Ansari in 30 minutes or less. (It had a few laughs but it wasn’t as funny as I thought it would be.) During a particularly humorless scene, I receive a text message from Jill who was at church. What you are about to read is probably inappropriate, a tad blasphemous and utterly disgraceful for a couple of young ladies but Jill and I cannot be wholly culpable for it.

Jill: (after a description of the Marvel themed Christmas musical she had to endure, where Ironman actually irons things)…NOW THEY’RE PREACHING ABOUT CANDY CANES BITCHEZ B CRAY CRAY

Me: Are candy canes evil now

Jill: Candy canes are speshul cos they’re shaped like Js! Like Jesus!

Me: Hahaha, what does it mean then when we’re sucking on a candy cane *waggles eyebrows*

Jill: HAHAHAHAHA oh god (that’s what she said)

Me: HAHAHA

Jill: (quoting from preacher) “the white of the candy cane is purity” um beg to differ
Jill:(continuing to quote from preacher) “this candy cane will never be real to you unless you receive it into your body” OMG OMG

Me: DYING. WHAT IS AIR.

So kids, this has been a lesson in thinking through your analogies because there people out there (or right here) who would not hesitate to warp even the most innocent of intentions. Like Donald Glover, if you play the word “pen” in any word game, I will try my hardest to make it “penis”.

 

Moose Goose Juice

The first word that popped into my head when I woke up today was:

Papoose

Granted, I wasn’t expecting my mind to string together eloquent words to form a fantastic morning greeting (“Good morning starshine/ The earth says hello”) to start my day with.  But, I definitely wasn’t expecting papoose.

The papoose I had in mind was this:

Basically it’s the baby carrier that NPH is wearing.

I have been troubled all day by this papoose incident and so decided to use this as an excuse to revive my ailing blog. But since it would have been a too short stay on wordpress had I just posted the first 2 lines of this (increasingly meandering) post, I decided to google papoose.

A papoose is:

1. A Native American Indian child (regardless of tribe) – Wikipedia
2. A child carrier (as pictured above – the equipment and not the person)
3. A rapper

This is a quote directly from Wikipedia:

Words that rhyme with papoose: moose goose juice shmoose spoose katoose caboose toose oose shupadupadoose tragoonioonioose

There is one rapper called Papoose. He is not very good.

I am not a connoisseur of rap music so I can’t tell you if that last line is true but it made me appreciate Wikipedia because firstly, it thoughtfully provided me with words that rhymed with papoose such as shupadupadoose and secondly, it compelled me to search for Papoose (the rapper) on YouTube.

Based on his rap “Alphabetical Slaughter” I learned:

1. How the alphabet would be taught by Sesame Street if Sesame Street was set in the “streets”.
2. This dude is really into alliteration!

(J!) Jungle jump juggler, jaw-jabbing jeopardizer
Jacking jewelry jingles, jackknife jigging jittery jivers

I don’t know what half his lyrics mean but I have to commend this alliterative feat.

Although the reason for having papoose on the mind has not been resolved, my interest in it has waned and so will this post.

 

“Goodbye gooseberries”, grown-up Gosling gushes gallantly.

 

The Value of a Tertiary Education

Today, we covered Asrophil and Stella in Renaissance Literature class. Of course, seeing that it was a class taught by the professor whom I deem the Sheldon Cooper of the English Department (cos he’s so brilliant but not as socially awkward though I don’t know him outside of a classroom context to ascertain this), I experienced my weekly information overload. Terms like lyric subjectivity, autopoiesis, Epicurean good even St Augustine’s notion of the interior ineffability and Hamlet (“that within which passeth show”) inundated my brain and I honestly felt like I was in uni learning things which I never would have in any other institution.There I was in the third row, cup of coffee on the table, notepad out, pen in hand, thinking through theories and creating ideas only English majors and starving artists could.

Then came the presentation by some classmates. They really had interesting and enlightening things to say about the sonnets, they really did. But somehow, their first speaker just ruined that presentation for me and it was through no fault of that first speaker. It’s seriously a reflection of how much tertiary education has done for the maturation of my thoughts.

First Speaker: …the Petrarchan form in A ‘n’ S… A ‘n’ S was probably written in…

My Thoughts: Hmm, Petrarchan form, interesting, did it in JC…Let’s review… A ‘n’ S? A. N. S. Ayanas. Aynas… ANUS. ohmygod it sounds like everything she says is referring to anus. Holy crap shits and giggles. Oh god Sher Li just turned and raised her eyebrow knowingly (or is that judgementally) at me. Must hold it together. Snort oh god stifle it, STIFLE IT!

Clearly tertiary education has benefited me much.

Sorry, I shall now banish myself to the deep recesses of the cave and watch shadow plays on the wall as I am clearly not fit to be outside with the rest of humanity basking in enlightenment.

Who knew scatological humor could be derived from Philip Sidney’s ‘Astrophil and Stella’?

Alright I shall stop now. I truly am ashamed at having thought of such profane, base thoughts.

Fish Don’t Swim In Water

I’m no stranger to weird dreams.

I’ve dreamt of dancing the tango and my partner suddenly turns into a wall. I’ve dreamt of being shot in the shoulder and subsequently waking up with a searing pain in the exact same spot I was shot in. I’ve also dreamt that I was Hannibal Lecter’s wife and woke up just as he was thinly slicing the soles of my feet.

Last night, I dreamt of fish. To be specific, I dreamt of 3 fish swimming from the hallway, into my room and then hiding behind my door. It wasn’t that my house suddenly had a stream running through it or that I was underwater. These fish were just swimming in air.

That’s freaky.

Even more disturbing, the first fish that entered my room went straight for the pile of dirty laundry and proceeded to roll around in it and got tangled in one of my panties. When I removed it from my laundry, it swam behind my door and wouldn’t leave.

Aside from fish and the womanly bits association, my dream evaluation yielded one possible explanation: I need to get a pet of the cuddly and four-legged persuasion pronto. Before I turn into my father who rears fish for pleasure. The fish in my dreams could be the ghosts of my father’s fish who died under my care when my father was away.

However, this explanation does not explain why my bedroom made a seamless transition into becoming a classroom at an all girls English boarding school reminiscent of Enid Blyton’s Mallory Towers (This series provided me with an escape from my mundane primary school life and an equally mundane school uniform). I was trying to shoo the fish out from behind the door while all the other girls were making a fuss at the possibility of being caught by a teacher. It was at this point that I woke up.

My eyes immediately locked upon my bedroom door and for a moment, I was afraid to get out of bed and check behind it. Then the rational side of my brain woke up and told me that there was no reason to check behind the door as it had been a dream.

I didn’t check behind the door.

I now look at the door and think I glimpse a fish tail slithering behind it lickety-split. Afraid of being caught.

HAVE I GONE DEAF?

Substitute beeping sound with badly sung cantopop blaring from a tentage across the street.

I’m all for cultural immersion but STOP SINGING ALREADY!

Why not a quiet tea appreciation workshop or a calligraphy class?

JUST STOP WITH THE AURAL ASSAULT.

2 Brothers, A 20 Year Old and Facebook

First things first, I just turned 20.

Thank you MGG for that appropriate expression.

I’m entering the third decade of my life and I suppose you can say I’m not so optimistic about it.  Jill went on a whole spiel about it and in essence, I’ve  learnt that turning twenty sucks. She gave me a list of reasons in my birthday card (thanks Jill) that I want to share but I don’t have the card at hand now. So just trust me on this. As I age year by year, I feel my intelligence fleeing my brain, afraid to live in that musty, yellowing box I call a brain. I walk with a mist of milky substance exuding from my pores as calcium is leached from my bones. Every stair step feels like a mountain, every cookie a potential death treat.

 I age in fear.

Hahahaha, I just made myself snigger. Seems like I still haven’t lost the ability to laugh at my moronic self. Take that, high achieving famous youths who make a lot of money and have no need to laugh at themselves!

What I really want to share in this post though, is a dilemma I’m facing. See, I have two brothers. One’s 19 and the other’s 14. The 14 year old, is the one I’m having a problem with. Well, not so much him than the fact that he is in a relationship.  Wih a 14 year old girl, just so everyone’s in the loop and not suspecting anything else. He’s in a relationship that according to Facebook, involves cringe and gag worthy exchanges such as “muacks muacks” and “baby” and “muacks? wouldn’t it be better if we were doing it for real”. I about died when I saw the last one. I think I did because I had an out of body experience and I had the idea that someone set me up for some hidden camera thing.

I mean come on, at 14! Isn’t that too young? At 14, I was still waiting for normal body parts to arrive!  But maybe I’m the abnormal one who has never had a significant other in her life before. But seriously, not too sound too, soap opera-ish, I don’t want my bro doing things that would involve me being an aunt at 20. So  me and my other brother decided to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

It didn’t really involve much at first. More like prodding him with veiled questions and general advice not to do ANYTHING stupid. Which I admit is pretty lame and didn’t do anything except put a permanent expression of mild panic on his face. He did have a hilarious full blown expression of panic on his face when we told him we knew everything though. I had a one-to-one talk with him though which relieved me a little. But I still want him to break it off with this girl. Is that wrong of me? Should he be allowed to date? We haven’t told my parents yet but I know what their stand would  be. Growing up, it was drilled in our heads that we are not to have relationships as long as we were in school. Education above any matters of the heart!

So that was how my birthday ended. I spent the afternoon/evening with fantastic friends and ended the day with a dose of family drama. But what’s new right? Even as I age a year older, my family still manages to churn out some form of family drama be it from family politics or from brothers who I finally realise are growing up in other aspects as well. I may not like it but it’s impossible to like everything in life. But I suppose it’s worth living just for those extra special magical moments that are far and few between.

Like a sunny smiling balloon. 

I Would Prefer Not To

This is an accurate representation of how I feel when I think about next week, and the weeks after that one.

Let me give you a quick preview:

TUE
HW101: The Craft of Writing – Assignment 3 due
HMF1: French Language Level 1 – Oral Test

WED
HL106: Introduction to American Literature – Paper due

FRI
HL102: Survey of English Literature – Paper due
HMF1: French Language Level 1 – Listening Comprehension Test
                                                                       Written Test

2 WEEKS AFTER
EXAMS!!!

It’s during times like these where I really wish I could follow in the footsteps of Bartleby and say ‘I would prefer not to.”

I would prefer not to hand in assignments on time.

I would prefer not to take examinations.

I just would prefer not to do anything but curl up on my bed with an endless supply of hot tea, a notebook, a pencil and my laptop.  Just for a week or so, till I’ve smoothed out all the creases in my brain due to its wrung out state.

Aaah, what would I do without my little fantasies…

Je suis très triste et fatiguée mais c’est la vie.

You just have to take it one day at a time.

 

Supermegafoxyawesomehot!

I have never been so excited for an episode of Glee. It’s all thanks to the guy who’s singing Teenage Dream, Darren Criss. I lovelovelove this rendition of Teenage Dream! It’s So smooth and sexy and I just want to get my groove on! It doesn’t help that Chris Colfer and Darren Criss seem to have amazing chemistry from what I saw in that short video!

Anyway, what I wanted to share was my reaction to seeing Darren Criss in Glee. Essentially, when I ssaw him with his slicked back hair I  immediately screamed out, “IT’S HARRY POTTER!” and a heartbeat later, “Where’s his curly hair?”

(I am such a dork, I swear. I don’t even know why I’m sharing this to anyone  ut you’re welcome people who appreciate this.)

No not because he resembles Harry Potter but because he IS Harry Potter.

That’s the fanmade trailer for this awesome musical “A Very Potter Musical“. The whole musical’s uploaded on youtube. Go watch it especially if you’re a Harry Potter fan! It had me in stitches continuously. I have mega love and respect for all the actors especially those playing Draco, Ron, Voldermort and Harry Potter of course.  

I really hope this Glee episode doesn’t leave me feeling disappointed like the Britney one. Granted Darren Criss isn’t as big as Brtiney but still, I really want this to be a super special episode. 🙂

It’s Like Driving a Car, But Way More Important