Excitement looks like this...

See you in October. I hope. Seeing as to how I almost did not make it home two Sundays ago.

The Change

2015 hours. As I stepped out of the claustrophobic confines of work into the night air, it was not the usual sense of tired relief that would meet me, but something I had not felt for a long time. Every step forward brought me closer to the end of the day, and the start of tomorrow, and tomorrow, and many, many, many more tomorrows :-D

Fathomless Deep Blues

0113 hours. So. So. Very. Tired.

One more day...

Inventory check

Am finding it hard to believe that the dive equipment is taking up almost an entire suitcase on its own. And that does not include the regulator and pressure gauge, which have to be hand-carried - something about the low pressure in the baggage cabin. Ack. Now, how the hell am I supposed to fit my clothes and toiletries amidst all those odd angles and spaces? Aaarrrggghhh.


What are the interesting places that you have blogged from?

Fathomless Deep Blues

Must. Start. Packing.

Two more days...

Fathomless Deep Blues

There seems to be only enough time lately to work and sleep. Am I running out of time?

Three more days...


It haunts me, again, like a half-remembered dream of people without faces and voices, but who I instinctively know. It was waiting by the sunken cheek of a broken man, as I leaned in to offer words of solace. It brushed the edges of my consciousness, as an acquaintance walked past. But mostly, it just lingers in the air, an unseen spiderweb leaving traces of its presence across my face and arms.

I know IT is not me. Who, or what, then?

Still life

How fascinating.

I would give a stranger the stills of my life, that he would tell me what he saw, and I might re-live these moments through the colours of his eyes and the warmth of his voice. And maybe, I would remember what it was like, to live again.


Some people get the Monday Blues. Some people get the Monday Flu (and a convenient MC). For a few people, the work week begins with the Monday Nuts. Talking about which, I really should be less blase about attending to the nuts, and join the others in their giggling fits and displays of mock horror. And people really do not want to hear reassuring comments like "She's harmless - just a little different from the rest of us." (Reminding people that they are not that much different from the nuts is hardly reassuring.)

It is such a fine balance trying to make sure the people around you do not start behaving like nuts without being thought of as one yourself.

Pretty in blue and white

Saturday was what I would call a pretty day. The sky was a blue canvas of fluffy white clouds everywhere I looked.

And now my legs hurt from being away too long from serious blading. Owww...

Moving pictures

"Thank god, when they opened my closet, they found shoes not skeletons."

Heh. Heh. Watched Imelda's premiere at Alliance Francaise, and sat through a tedious Q&A session at the end. More than half of the questions were from deaf people who kept posing the SAME questions, but somehow heard the answer if it was addressed directly at them. There was also a particularly inquisitive woman who punctuated every few words with an affected lilt. Roll eyes (and ears - if that is possible). I suppose the film-maker Ramona Diaz managed to keep her cool because she would be fielding the same set of questions at each premiere and press conference anyway.

Finally remembered to get Dogma, which is really funny. I can also remember when I first watched it - November 2000 at a friend's place, rushing down from the hair salon after highlights. Did not finish the show the first time - think some of us were too tired and decided to call it a night.


Woke from a deep and restful sleep, and feeling something was just a little different, even though it was less than five hours. Maybe it was the late night talk with SF (and almost causing a stranger mild whiplash) that helped me to remember how it is so easy to laugh, or the icky Chinese medicine. Whichever. Does not matter :-)

Anyway, Saturday, a week from now :-D Am all anticipation. And anxiety - after last Sunday.


I just remembered something - he was not the only one who told me his story about being the third party. Remembering this seems to be "important". I wonder why.

Moving pictures

The DIY abortion in the bathtub scene was pretty much the woman's version of a man watching another man get kicked in the balls. Shudder.


"Hello ..... what u doing up so late in the office ...? Whoooo do you hear tapping at the window panes? Creak creak..."

A work email from someone I barely know. Weird people. 8-|

Mind your language

Sign at SGH food court's sliced fish stall: "Chilli is exclusively to patronise customers only."


Serge Lutens Sa Majeste La Rose: "This fragrance, just like the rose whose petals have a soft and dreamy texture, is refined and delicate. It opens on a note of Moroccan rose, pure, rich and honeyed where the scent's smoky allusion mingles with wood. The perfume's aroma is sharpened by hot powdery clove and white honey underlines a musk base that perfectly compliments the rose."

A little prayer

Idle thoughts

There were two nurses and a physiotherapist on the last trip, and three nurses on this one. What is it about nurses and diving?


"DeBruine noted that previous research has shown that people are more likely to trust others who look like them."

I wonder if crooks trust people who look like them. Or is that one of the exceptions?


"Have you heard the saying: The eye is bigger than the belly?"

From the Orlando Bloom lookalike over the weekend, as he looked up from his unfinished lunch. Methinks I am developing a most unhealthy fascination for the English wit.

Ecstasy & Agony

0220 hours:
The ecstasy and the agony of true love found in forbidden moments but for the stolen cloak of night, then lost, and yet may be found again - in the sobering light of day. You cannot hide forever.

1305 hours:
The ecstasy and the agony of pure lust coursing through your veins - unsatiated. For now. To almost know what a guy's mind is like 60% of the time when he is in his mid to late 20s. Or so the subject of your lust claims.

1350 hours:
The ecstasy and the agony of waiting for Shy Boy to ask you out. Monday lunches have become weekly sessions on "How to make him cross the bridge before you burn the freaking thing up. (And I hope he'll be on the bridge when it goes up in flames.)"

In less than 12 hours, I was Aunt Agony to three. Maybe I should quit my boring job and offer my whips and chains, I mean, services, to the Sexually Deprived and Unmarried.

It has been a very strange day, no?

Sunday morning

Pressure in: 230 bar
Pressure out: 150 bar and lots of water

More later, on "How I almost died laughing". My wrists are still tingling a little, but I guess I'll be fine after sucking the O2 tank dry. (And getting rosy cheeks - hmmm... maybe I should do this more often. Heh.) (Afterthought: I changed my mind. It was not funny at all. ~ 13 September 2004)


On the two hour or so coach from Mersing to the Tuas Link, I drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the soft chatter and laughs of SF and the other girl, seated just behind. Later, at the immigration queue, she asked if I managed to catch any sleep.

I: "Not bad... drifting in and out... eavesdropping on the guy beside me."

SF: "Ooo! What about?"

I: "Oh, he was telling someone over his mobile that the coach ride was really uncomfortable. And something about how he finds it amazing that she has been talking the entire trip, though it's not so much interaction as just her doing all the talking." (Burst into laughter.)

SF: (Puzzled look.)

I: (Meaningful look.)

SF: "Oh. Ohhh..."

Heh. Heh. Heh.


So much to write, so little time, not enough sleep. But for now, I'm off to log another six dives in Aur :-)

Preserved fruits

Out of Office AutoReply:

"I have tendered my resignation and my last day with XXX will be 8 October 2004. I will not be available from now till 8 October 2004."

How would you read this? Does it mean he would be unavailable from 8 October onwards, or he would return to clear any final outstanding matters (and perhaps read the email that was sent) after 8 October?

Strange how the past can catch up with you when you least expect it. But when you try to make a move on your past, it takes on a life of its own and gives you the slip - by a day? We may never know. SF wondered why I had not told her earlier when I chanced upon his whereabouts. Shrug. Why not ask why I was seized by the urge to ask about him through a mutual friend a week ago but only googled him slightly after midnight on Wednesday. Why, instead of sleeping, I risked the dusty wrath of ten-year-old printouts of our emails and my old diary, and remembered the things I had forgotten? Why did Blogger have to go down for an entire day, while my post lingered in limbo, waiting to be read? Or why I turned my back abruptly on him that morning a few years ago?

If indeed the past is past and cannot be changed, a memory etched in stone, why is it no longer there when you turn back to look?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And so, we have just found something interesting to amuse ourselves as we trudge through our abysmally mundane lives: hunting down people from our past. (Not for any specific purpose, really. Just for the heck of it, I guess.) Chakrams, spears, whips, studded thingies and tiny pieces of fashionably cut leather passing off as defensive armour not included. But, maybe having all that might make our job a bit easier - especially the ones with pointy sharp ends, for the past that would not stop moving. Heh. Heh. Heh. But I suppose string-tied triangular pieces of fabric and neoprene bodysuits would have to work for now.

For starters, does anyone know Soon Huat from the NUS Arts (Sociology) graduating class of 1995? I vaguely remember that he went on to do his Honours too. (This is for SF, who sent off that email - a day? too late - for me. Eh, I think?)

'Til death do us part

When I said I would die for you, it was because I could not bear the thought of living without you, and would rather not be the one left behind with the pain of living. So much for selflessness, huh?


Recently, in an act of discriminatory foreign policy, an entire family from Malaysia was banned from entering Singapore. How unneighbourly of us. Tsk. Tsk.


It is strange how things always seem so much clearer on hindsight; though, sometimes, so much later that we wonder if there is any point to it. With age and experience, there might be less of such temporal displacements. But, perhaps, that is not the point of re-living some of our experiences. Sometimes, the moment is simply not enough to hold and savour every look, every word, every thought, and every realisation.


Snowskin durian mooncake from Gourmet Haven at 57 Tras Street (Tanjong Pagar MRT). MUST TRY!!! GO! GO! PUSH! SHOVE!

Simply the best - not

Contests are increasingly not about the prettiest or funniest or smartest, are they? Sometimes, pretty or funny or smart doesn't even begin to describe the contestants. And that's just it. It's really about winning - competition; having the guts to subject your stuff (or lack thereof) to public scrutiny; being the bravest (or most deluded, heh); and often, shrewdest and most media-savvy (read: pandering to the viewership).

Maybe, the prettiest or funniest or smartest know themselves better than to have to prove their self-worth through contests. (But that prize money sure would come in handy, no?) What does it prove, really? Does winning or losing make you any more or less than what you already are? Does it make you any prettier or funnier or smarter - in a real sense? (Well, maybe richer, which doesn't sound too bad, actually.)

Doggy tales

Do your part for the four-legged ones :-)

And check out January's furrie, Benson. Occasional playmate for our Elmo, Benson is also known for his very open admiration of the latter's ample rump. Well, you know... one dog's rump, another dog's hump.

0135 hours

Argh. Woke up past three to a rainy Sunday afternoon, and am still awake now wondering where the other half of yesterday went.

Poor pies

Guess the animals.

E S O O P I P R (Clue: I'm dark on top and white below.)

P H E O R G (Clue: I live in tunnels that I dig.)

O P P R S I E O (Clue: I'm like a small whale.)

It's not that hard to figure out, is it? Even if you don't know your animals, move the letters around until something looks familiar, and there are only so many possible combinations. Besides, who wouldn't have encountered 'gopher' and 'porpoise' at least a few times in say 20 over years of reading experience? Neither animal is even that exotic. So it was just a little disconcerting when the co-worker who sent this gave me a strange look (with a little awe) when I muttered: "It's not that hard." (Oh great. Another reminder that I'm not quite like the others. I should just quit trying to blend in, eh?)


Why do they call it 'comfort food' anyway - when it comes with 'uncomfortable weight gain' and your clothes getting 'uncomfortably tight'?