My One Cent Worth of Thoughts

As the credits of Nottinghill rolled out 5 mins ago, I tried to recall, a time when everyone around me was gushing over the show, over Julia (This I can understand) and over Hugh Grant. Floppy brown hair, droopy blue eyes, clipped English accent. 10 years ago, I had believed that he was irresistibly cute as he blundered through a funeral and 4 weddings. So did the rest of my girlfriends. “Oooh, he is sooo cute. Why did Liz leave him!? Why isn’t there any Hugh-lookalikes in Singapore!” groanings echoed in the wake of Nottinghill.

Have I ever consider him cute? The floppy hair looks lame to me now, so do the droppy eyes. Have I outgrown my schoolgirl fantasies? Because life is more real right now, with room for more problems, but less fantasies. He looks so ordinary to me, Nottinghill feels so normal too. What has happened to the magical feeling of fairy tales of princesses falling in love with commoners? Have I misplaced it as I trudge through the chores of everyday? Nah, I have grown up and left Hugh behind, in the era when I was still 17. BUT, I still love his sexy, clipped English accent, over the drawling American ones. Ab-so-LUte-ly Se-xy! Some things just never change! Wink!

Idle surfing brought me to this article.

Let me see, 11 hours, I have spent on computers today. Therefore, that makes me a cock-eyed, erratic, bad tempered hunchback!! Imagine this — a whole world filled with psychopaths like me. All in all, it makes a perfect excuse to get off work and make time for more tea breaks! Cheers! Gosh! I am a perfect crackpot by now, time for tossing and turning in bed.

One week of holiday and it takes me another one week to get my steam back. I guess all that whirlwind of activities went over my head. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners, good news, bad news, accidents and what-have-yous. Everything seems to pass me by in a zap. One short zap and everything is gone. There goes 2 weeks of my insignificant life.

A pleasant surprise I had, when I checked the webcount. 920 hits for a website that has been dead for 2 weeks. Not bad, I would say! (Psst! *holding up 2 fingers* I swear that I have not been hitting the pages myself! I have not logged on to the internet for the 2 whole weeks! I swear I swear! *squeak!*) I thank all of you for the encouragement and support (even though there might have been accidental hits. I have read that finger cramps happen often to heavy computer users.). *Bow head in appreciation*

Anyway, here I come again. *crack knuckles* Be prepared for a steady flow of sarcasm and idiotic antics! The morons win the day!

I really ought to be packing my bags for my long trip back home, but what am I doing now?! Scribbling on my blog. Duh! Just want to take this down, before it pops out of my mind and this happens really frequently now. I wonder if my brain cells are degenerating.

I have frequently distributed advices to my friends (of course carefully thought advices, not irresponsible ones!) and well, sometimes, they do not really need it, but for a second confirmation. Oh, my advices are great — practical, logical, morally and politically correct. Great advices!

But, when the misfortune falls on me, will I have the guts and will to carry out my own advices? I can self righteously declare, yes yes, thou shalt not sin, blah… blah.. the 10 commanments. When it really happens to me, can I take myself mentally out of the fit, reconsider all my choices and act upon the best. Frankly speaking (My negotiation class lecturer would say, you mean you have been lying all along? Well, I have not!), there is a possibility that I cannot make good my own advices.

Therefore, here comes me to my conclusion :

Advices are freely given but not easily practised.

As I sat in the Chinese restaurant, fidgeting in my seat, sweeping my eyes across the room, I realised that, every table was occupied by either couples, duos or large groups. Huddled in my seat, I was the only loner.

Funny how I stayed at home all day and not feel a wee bit lonely, but sitting there in the middle of the crowd, I felt like I didn’t belong. Which person would be insane enough to eat in a ‘family’ restaurant, alone?! I picked at the tablecloth, feeling very self conscious, thinking desperately for something to do, to drive away the L monster. No books handy as I wasn’t really prepared to eat my dinner out. Yes, I could always fritter some time away by writing in my diary. Therefore, I hurled out my.. little… diary book and started scribbling. People started staring, totally curious about that Asian girl at the next table, alone and furiously writing away. I took down my little observations (When I forget my book in the *MRT, I like to observe people secretly. Discreetly of course, for I have no wish to be beaten up for a split second eye contact.), how some of the Germans insisted on using chopsticks… with plates, a wonder to me. How could they ever manage to eat properly like that, for chopsticks go with bowls and plates are just too shallow? Or perhaps, they were more Chinese than I ever was, for I used a plate, fork, spoon and knife just now. How amazing, the easterners striving to become westernised and the westerners busy imitating the habits of the easterners.

However, I have deviated from the purpose of this passage. Things always do not turn out the way I want them to. THe point I want to make is, when I am alone, the more people there are in the same room, the lonelier I feel. Whereas, alone in an apartment does not invite loneliness. Is this strange? Am I strange?

*MRT = Mass Rapid Transport in Singapore = Subway in UK = S bahn in Germany

The slimy moron is now back in its prison! Muahahahah….!!!

All it took was a cookie box (Danish Butter cookie, for that matter!), a bowl of food, a stick that was made of little fruits. The cookie box propped up by the fruit stick and the food bowl placed strategically in the middle, that made up the trap. Tired of sitting, waiting, chasing after it the whole night, I decided that, there would be no more hide-and-seek with it. There are tonnes of places to hide in my apartment, and 90% of them are unmovables.

That fateful morning, it had the audacity to run around the room, AND even over my lap under my very nose!!! Pissed, I assembled the trap and left for work.

Later that day, as soon as I stepped into the door, I scrambled into the living room, to check on my ingenious trap! The box was down, the trap had sprung! However, the question was, did I manage to capture it? Circling the box, I cautiously knocked on the top of the box. No squeak, no sound…. Disheartened, oh well, it probably was smart enough to escape from its fate, since it had, still has, such an intelligent owner. I picked up the box, preparing to clear the mess. Lo and behold, it was sitting there, peering at me with its black round eyes. Oops. I have never been faster. I slapped the box right over the same position. Readying its home box (by taping tonnes of paper over the hole, a hundred miles of adhesive tape, and another tonne of paper on the outside of the box), I flipped the cookie box and all its content into the box. Caught but unrepentent, til this night, it is still scrambling around, searching for another nook to escape from.

Due to the superior intelligence of the owner, this episode ended with an amazing speed, with minimal effort!.

~~~ Who me?! My one cent worth of thoughts!! ~~~