The dynamic of Influenza: pile of "tissues", a cuppa of flu remedy, a warm towel, menthol vapour chest rub and a laptop.
Thursday, 31 December 2009
patient
The dynamic of Influenza: pile of "tissues", a cuppa of flu remedy, a warm towel, menthol vapour chest rub and a laptop.
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Mr. Macaalay, the American
Being impressionable whippersnappers then, we concocted that notion in our heads of becoming Americans someday. We grew up full of hopes and dreams; we thought of big things. Maybe I'm wrong for saying this but Nelson would ascertain this as being a renowned published "literatus" and an experience of affluent lifestyle (although I'm sure he'd say that happiness is relative). My dream followed a different path altogether but Nelson soldiered on. By December 2009, his passport is blue.
We used to have conversations about seeing the world. The books he's read have seen his protagonists (as they exploit the mother earth with high carbon footprints) follow adventures in cities like Paris, London and Rome (among other cities). Without the hassles of bureaucracy, that is now within reach. The edgy but stirring part is: Nelson would love it so much, he'd end up writing blogs in a sauna somewhere in Istanbul.
Now, the world has become even smaller. There's not a smidgen of reason why our friendship should be witnessed by unending chats online. I am glad that both of us have passion for cultures other than our own. Next stop: a Cafe where english is not spoken and a menu that needs translation.
We used to have conversations about seeing the world. The books he's read have seen his protagonists (as they exploit the mother earth with high carbon footprints) follow adventures in cities like Paris, London and Rome (among other cities). Without the hassles of bureaucracy, that is now within reach. The edgy but stirring part is: Nelson would love it so much, he'd end up writing blogs in a sauna somewhere in Istanbul.
Now, the world has become even smaller. There's not a smidgen of reason why our friendship should be witnessed by unending chats online. I am glad that both of us have passion for cultures other than our own. Next stop: a Cafe where english is not spoken and a menu that needs translation.
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
man against the machine part deux (eczema)
Four years ago, I had this severe reaction to a certain brand of washing powder where half of my face and all of my neck were covered in rashes. It took a while to subside. A year after that, a suspected new scarf caused the same effect and was diagnosed contact dermatitis. Two years ago, I had to go to A & E for my eyes nearly shut and my whole face was swollen. A cocktail of medications helped resolve that. Lastly, the dermatologist said, eczema.
I could vividly remember those events in my life that perhaps caused these rashes (by trial and error, ruling out was tedious). They're pretty strong, fervent circumstances and eventualities. They're life altering moments hence the onset of stress; the precursor to eczema.
I have until the end of January (2010) to help this unit as Manager. I will be back to full time teaching which is just timely for my whopper of an assignment related to Higher Education teaching requirements. That will change my work landscape completely. I will have to lease my face to eczema for now and cover it with hydrortisone and emollient creams. Hopefully in a month, I'll be back to the pretty old me.
As if!
I could vividly remember those events in my life that perhaps caused these rashes (by trial and error, ruling out was tedious). They're pretty strong, fervent circumstances and eventualities. They're life altering moments hence the onset of stress; the precursor to eczema.
I have until the end of January (2010) to help this unit as Manager. I will be back to full time teaching which is just timely for my whopper of an assignment related to Higher Education teaching requirements. That will change my work landscape completely. I will have to lease my face to eczema for now and cover it with hydrortisone and emollient creams. Hopefully in a month, I'll be back to the pretty old me.
As if!
Monday, 28 December 2009
man against the machine
In nearly over three years, this is the first time I have to work on a Bank Holiday. It is strange that I have to come in and produce more creatinine wastes, as working in this particular unit is like a gym minus the gorgeous people and the drive/motivation; more like a marathon where you get a good castigation instead of a medal at the end of the race. I do feel for these people; I really do.
There are a number of reasons why I have to be counted in today's staffing. I won't drag you with these reasons but I find it more of a higher management issue. I am aboard this tube train to work and I actually don't mind being a "number" or another entity of the workforce. I gather that my bosses answer to a higher force and the latter to a head honcho. Life is just like that: so many imaginary lines and divides (the easiest way to assert control and responsibility).
Management is a good proposition to orderliness but achieving transparency over different levels is something of an ideal that's verging to a myth. It is an option but least likely a path that would be considered at first or second instance.
I am tired defending my colleagues.
I am tired being pushed from pillar to post (job ambiguity).
I am tired of asking for support from the gods of Renal.
I am tired explaining the lack of action from the management to my colleagues.
I am starting to doubt credibilities.
It takes a lot for me to be a "crapehanger". The last time I felt this way was nearly three years ago. I have only been to this institution for over a year and my eczema is already back (stress-induced).
There are a number of reasons why I have to be counted in today's staffing. I won't drag you with these reasons but I find it more of a higher management issue. I am aboard this tube train to work and I actually don't mind being a "number" or another entity of the workforce. I gather that my bosses answer to a higher force and the latter to a head honcho. Life is just like that: so many imaginary lines and divides (the easiest way to assert control and responsibility).
Management is a good proposition to orderliness but achieving transparency over different levels is something of an ideal that's verging to a myth. It is an option but least likely a path that would be considered at first or second instance.
I am tired defending my colleagues.
I am tired being pushed from pillar to post (job ambiguity).
I am tired of asking for support from the gods of Renal.
I am tired explaining the lack of action from the management to my colleagues.
I am starting to doubt credibilities.
It takes a lot for me to be a "crapehanger". The last time I felt this way was nearly three years ago. I have only been to this institution for over a year and my eczema is already back (stress-induced).
Sunday, 27 December 2009
Gigi's remains
Today, I watched two films back to back on television. Originally, I was proposing a trip to Oxford Street and overwhelm myself with the Christmas sales but the lazy part of me opted for a couch potato exercise. Flicking channels happen to be good for the reflexes.
The films:
The Remains of the day
Gigi
I have seen "Gigi" a few times and "The Remains of the Day" for the second time but both have that way of capturing you. I was plastered onto the red couch for hours like a courtesan. It was so unhealthy that I felt like a pig ready for roasting at Darlington Hall.
The films:
The Remains of the day
Gigi
I have seen "Gigi" a few times and "The Remains of the Day" for the second time but both have that way of capturing you. I was plastered onto the red couch for hours like a courtesan. It was so unhealthy that I felt like a pig ready for roasting at Darlington Hall.
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Just me and Toto
As usual, I wasn't disgruntled with the outcome of Christmas eve, Christmas and the Boxing day. I knew it would be quiet; it was painfully quiet in fact. In a way, I kind of expected it so high expectations were thrown out of the window. Just like the holidays that passed me by and most likely, the holidays to come, it will just be the same old routine. This happens when you celebrate it British style and you are an expat whose family members are thousands of miles away.
Just like this Christmas gone, this holiday's all about family (including partners). If you don't have one near you then you look out for your closest friends and treat them like one. If you are a repugnant, loathsome person, then you must have people who are truly kindhearted and accept you for your peculiar individuality.
However, growing up in a country where I have certain traditions of celebrating the holidays, it makes a big difference as to what makes me happy and warm inside. Expensive gifts do not satiate any longer; not even the thought of white christmas and the snowman... the alcohol soaked christmas pudding... the roast dinner. I miss being around my family and feeling safe and sound. If only Dorothy would entrust me those ruby shoes then I'd be out of Londontown and happily swap it with Manila.
I truly yearn for home.
Just like this Christmas gone, this holiday's all about family (including partners). If you don't have one near you then you look out for your closest friends and treat them like one. If you are a repugnant, loathsome person, then you must have people who are truly kindhearted and accept you for your peculiar individuality.
However, growing up in a country where I have certain traditions of celebrating the holidays, it makes a big difference as to what makes me happy and warm inside. Expensive gifts do not satiate any longer; not even the thought of white christmas and the snowman... the alcohol soaked christmas pudding... the roast dinner. I miss being around my family and feeling safe and sound. If only Dorothy would entrust me those ruby shoes then I'd be out of Londontown and happily swap it with Manila.
I truly yearn for home.
Friday, 25 December 2009
Bell
With different time zones around the world, I'm pretty sure some people I know have had their fair share of Christmas meal. I woke up today with my partner's homemade cake and a cup of English Breakfast tea. He is now stuffing some minced meat into these big colourful bell peppers. I'm in for a surprise and a tummy jolt.
I hate surprises but today, why not?!
Special Message
Although I mean to wish everyone a joyous Christmas, my heart is pining for those I care about and make me feel better as a person. Life is too short to keep on wandering aimlessly and to spend my waking moments with people I'd never grow as the person I'd like myself to be.
You all know who you are.
Thursday, 24 December 2009
happy holidays
I went home after a stint of CPR and defibrillation not on "Little Anne" but a certain Mrs. X. I was impressed with my colleague's cardiac compressions as I looked on from the head part clutching onto the bag valve mask. There's that sense of confidence and compassion to save a life. Mrs. X survived.
Merry X-mas.
Merry
I have been a miserable cow these past weeks. The moments of wretchedness and despair have seemingly taken permanent residency inside my psyche. However, that didn't mean I forgot to smile these past days. Camouflaging discontent/discord happens to be one of my strongest attributes (other than being a miserable cow - which when looked at in a different perspective would mean emotionally liberating and calming in its aftermath).
Few more hours and the well wishing (though sincere or not) will be customary like saying "sorry" when accidentally nudging another soul even in the slightest. The only difference is that wishing a "happy christmas" is your one and only chance to re-word your being sorry with a smile and a brightly coloured animated self. I'm sure this is not true to some of those I know with golden hearts. Well, they do have their flaws but they're not hypocrites enough to hide it and play "charade" with the downright manipulative tramps. Ignore this hullabaloo for I know I'm not making sense. My life just never really forged ahead from being highly complicated.
Merry christmas everyone. I mean it and I am not that person who cultivate acerbity in my backyard. I just find it therapeutic to rant for having a "shiteous" (too much gossip blogs for me) day.
Few more hours and the well wishing (though sincere or not) will be customary like saying "sorry" when accidentally nudging another soul even in the slightest. The only difference is that wishing a "happy christmas" is your one and only chance to re-word your being sorry with a smile and a brightly coloured animated self. I'm sure this is not true to some of those I know with golden hearts. Well, they do have their flaws but they're not hypocrites enough to hide it and play "charade" with the downright manipulative tramps. Ignore this hullabaloo for I know I'm not making sense. My life just never really forged ahead from being highly complicated.
Merry christmas everyone. I mean it and I am not that person who cultivate acerbity in my backyard. I just find it therapeutic to rant for having a "shiteous" (too much gossip blogs for me) day.
A......................VA................TAR.
I didn't even notice the passing of time. It was only when Leona Lewis' vocals warbled along with the rolling of film credits that I realised how late it was and how I needed the loo for the much needed water break.
I'm now one of the millions who watched the most expensive film ever (EVER!) and came out of it NOT disappointed. Actually, that's an understatement. I paid my fullest attention and that's something.
I want a Toruk for christmas!
cram
Somehow, I am grateful that I don't have that many gifts to buy this Christmas (I have whittled down my friends to a considerable, genuine few and a loving partner -my family members are abroad). Living with my partner for a long time gives me that kind of freedom to choose freely with a bit of conscience, practicality, mutual understanding, recession friendliness and less guilt when it comes to choosing a gift. In short, I find it a lot easier to set my focus on a certain day to shop and find something for him to open come Boxing day. With such justification, I make it appear relatively easy.
On the day however, it's a different story. Choosing to trek Oxford Street two days before Christmas is neither the prettiest sight nor the most comfortable of all shopping places. One false move and you recreate the Big Bang theory, where instead of planets and life are being formed, you hear yelps and cursing with so much gusto. It's so easy to poke one in the eye with a brolley and blind them forever.
Lesson number one and mainly the one thing to remember: Thou shall not do last minute shopping (unless you are a people person!).
On the day however, it's a different story. Choosing to trek Oxford Street two days before Christmas is neither the prettiest sight nor the most comfortable of all shopping places. One false move and you recreate the Big Bang theory, where instead of planets and life are being formed, you hear yelps and cursing with so much gusto. It's so easy to poke one in the eye with a brolley and blind them forever.
Lesson number one and mainly the one thing to remember: Thou shall not do last minute shopping (unless you are a people person!).
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
unlearned
When London came to a halt early this year due to the barrage of snow pile up, there was an unending debate on how to improve services alongside the finger pointing of people to blame local government services. The season heated from thereon and the argument fizzled out. Come winter time; yet another blizzard hitting Britain and London's at a standstill. In the same year, we sank a step lower than the foolest.
I may be harsh in this assessment but nurses get to occupy major headlines in newspapers for negligence and malpractice but the fat cows of the government get away with just as bad management in contrast to fat purses they get to keep month after month. They say it isn't ethical for nurses to stage a strike for the nursing vocation we uphold but nurses get the beating for poor practices which doctors are just as much to be blamed for.
Back to chaos that less than half a day of snowing rendered London, isn't it time that fat inept, ineffectual heads roll for gross incompetence? The headline in most of this week's paper suggests of the public's sentiment and damning outcry. But just like showbiz, this will be forgotten as the turn of spring comes to the fore.
Typical, isn't it....
I may be harsh in this assessment but nurses get to occupy major headlines in newspapers for negligence and malpractice but the fat cows of the government get away with just as bad management in contrast to fat purses they get to keep month after month. They say it isn't ethical for nurses to stage a strike for the nursing vocation we uphold but nurses get the beating for poor practices which doctors are just as much to be blamed for.
Back to chaos that less than half a day of snowing rendered London, isn't it time that fat inept, ineffectual heads roll for gross incompetence? The headline in most of this week's paper suggests of the public's sentiment and damning outcry. But just like showbiz, this will be forgotten as the turn of spring comes to the fore.
Typical, isn't it....
Monday, 21 December 2009
channel chanel
I was shopping for gifts with Tess at Liberty the other day when I chanced upon this woman in her 60's donning a head to toe designer gear. The accent suggested Russian and her manner's impeccable. I could tell that money's no object for this woman as I saw that calm disposition in her eyes as she scanned the dizzying prices of items on display.
That day, I was on a lookout for wellies. This season's just perfect for one as snow and rain are just surefire possibilities. My collection of suede boots are not going to survive the onslaught of winter thus finding a sort of fashionable "Hunter" boots is on the christmas list.
And lo and behold, this woman was wearing one and it's called Chanel. It's just a pretty little thing (but I'm sure they don't have nice wellies like that in the men's section).
Why do men's range far more limited than women's? You get floors upon floors of women's goodies while men get one and at the most, two. Don't they know women are more fickle than men? Don't they know that giving them more choices will just complicate things?
I finally got bored looking for that elusive Wellington. The pragmatist in me took over and settled for a nice pair of leather boots.
That day, I was on a lookout for wellies. This season's just perfect for one as snow and rain are just surefire possibilities. My collection of suede boots are not going to survive the onslaught of winter thus finding a sort of fashionable "Hunter" boots is on the christmas list.
And lo and behold, this woman was wearing one and it's called Chanel. It's just a pretty little thing (but I'm sure they don't have nice wellies like that in the men's section).
Why do men's range far more limited than women's? You get floors upon floors of women's goodies while men get one and at the most, two. Don't they know women are more fickle than men? Don't they know that giving them more choices will just complicate things?
I finally got bored looking for that elusive Wellington. The pragmatist in me took over and settled for a nice pair of leather boots.
witness to chaos
I left work at 5 pm and the tube train journey has taken forever. From one station to another took three blogs to write about "climate change", "sneezing" and "wellies". The travel was so long that I tapped onto my nozzle of productivity and turned boredom into unconstrained gush of words. The profuse apologies from the lady tube driver was repetitive and verging to hilarity as her sense of humour was at its utmost timely manner (I swear I heard Mrs. O of "Acorn Antiques" fame announcing the delays). Thanks God for funny.
And this travel chaos was because of snow shower. We truly have a lot to learn from Scandinavia and Laponia(?). Huskies would have been better!
And this travel chaos was because of snow shower. We truly have a lot to learn from Scandinavia and Laponia(?). Huskies would have been better!
Sunday, 20 December 2009
personal
I haven't written anything that divulge my innate personal care in the world these past months. My work life rendered me helpless like no other. I was too shattered to even reflect and scrutinise the ins and outs of my life. Today, riding this slow bus on a freezing Saturday morning may just be the answer to this dilemma. Recognising that a problem exists is good enough of a start. Now, let me find something around this wintry day to create the flood of figures of speech to coincide with my mental state.
It is human nature to wrap up with the onset of freeze. We are always reactive and depending on your wealth of experience and knowledge, the instinctive input of mental analysis of living can be a knee jerk reaction or a slow synaptic process. But wrapping myself up is always an elaborate ritual amd I'm pretty sure, they do vary from one person to another. Personally, the feel of winter vestment on me is security. It somehow takes me away from that primitive existence of vulnerability.
I was unhappy at work the past months (and still is) however, things are about to change. This cold season is a reminder of many things cajoling my happiness into overdrive...like the coats, snow, smokey breath, lack of sweaty musk in transport cars and other things. But importantly, it also means that at the height of winter, the labour of unappreciated existence is coming to an end and the beginning of becoming a person who loves what he does and being good at it, second. Sounds like I am confident with that air of braggadocio but life is pointless when you do things against your will due to lack of choice.
Even if I have nine lives,I'd choose according to what makes me happy. That's the only rule I follow with so much passion. However, with only one life to live, there's no time for improvidence. I just don't live for others, I also live for myself.
It is human nature to wrap up with the onset of freeze. We are always reactive and depending on your wealth of experience and knowledge, the instinctive input of mental analysis of living can be a knee jerk reaction or a slow synaptic process. But wrapping myself up is always an elaborate ritual amd I'm pretty sure, they do vary from one person to another. Personally, the feel of winter vestment on me is security. It somehow takes me away from that primitive existence of vulnerability.
I was unhappy at work the past months (and still is) however, things are about to change. This cold season is a reminder of many things cajoling my happiness into overdrive...like the coats, snow, smokey breath, lack of sweaty musk in transport cars and other things. But importantly, it also means that at the height of winter, the labour of unappreciated existence is coming to an end and the beginning of becoming a person who loves what he does and being good at it, second. Sounds like I am confident with that air of braggadocio but life is pointless when you do things against your will due to lack of choice.
Even if I have nine lives,I'd choose according to what makes me happy. That's the only rule I follow with so much passion. However, with only one life to live, there's no time for improvidence. I just don't live for others, I also live for myself.
Friday, 18 December 2009
Thursday, 17 December 2009
rain rain go away, let the snowfall take the day...
An hour before finishing work, the bosses are in work overdrive. They don't want the repeat of early this year's snow storm where more than half of the working class failed to turn up at work's doorstep. Hence, the last minute checking of people's travel situations to avert the impending disaster of staff shortage on the day. The forecast for tonight reprises a massive snowfall all over London and with the snow, transport dies with it.
"Where do you live Ryan?". I answered, "North London, Golders Green" and she muttered, "Oh dear!". Since moving to my new job in South London, it takes roughly 40minutes by transport to get to work compared to my previous job that's a stone throw away. Most people live in the hospital accomodation if not within the 1-2 mile radius of the institution. I told her to blame the "Victorian" transport facilities and the lack of preparation by London officials.
They are dreading the pile up of snow while on the other hand, I rejoice at the thought of it. The weatherman's predictions are obviously based on facts. I just hope this happens for real; not for the chaos it would bring but the fun it'd surely create.
What is there to loathe about snow?
"Where do you live Ryan?". I answered, "North London, Golders Green" and she muttered, "Oh dear!". Since moving to my new job in South London, it takes roughly 40minutes by transport to get to work compared to my previous job that's a stone throw away. Most people live in the hospital accomodation if not within the 1-2 mile radius of the institution. I told her to blame the "Victorian" transport facilities and the lack of preparation by London officials.
They are dreading the pile up of snow while on the other hand, I rejoice at the thought of it. The weatherman's predictions are obviously based on facts. I just hope this happens for real; not for the chaos it would bring but the fun it'd surely create.
What is there to loathe about snow?
hot cocoa drink
My cashmere pea coat is being threatened by that relentless snowfall. All I could do is look amusingly (yet helplessly) across the open area of bridges, monuments and the Thames as the powdery matter lightly and fleetingly skim the then freezing ground.
It isn't misery that I sense from the bystanders but a welcoming thought of a white christmas. I'd never be able to say it enough but I love winter. The warm hot cocoa drink is a grand accessory to this moment. Its affinity to my faculties is just understandably right.
Now where is that overture of the orchestra when you need one. It would have been uber perfect.
It isn't misery that I sense from the bystanders but a welcoming thought of a white christmas. I'd never be able to say it enough but I love winter. The warm hot cocoa drink is a grand accessory to this moment. Its affinity to my faculties is just understandably right.
Now where is that overture of the orchestra when you need one. It would have been uber perfect.
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
WWW.
I used to visit quite a number of websites to gratify my yearning for information and more. In recent years, I grew contentment and left satisfied with the few stacked sites under the "favorite" section of my windows internet explorer tab. The very few sites that are enough to keep me updated with the world of personal interests.
They are:
My blog site - www.knockdownsputnik.blogspot.com
Nelson's site - www.48years.blogspot.com
Shivaun's - www.freezejas.blogspot.com
www.homotography.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com
www.youtube.com
www.tennis.com
http://espn.go.com/tennis
www.rafaelnadal.com
www.perezhilton.com
http://justjared.buzznet.com
www.google.com
www.river-blog.com
www.justin.tv
www.kanyeuniversecity.com/blog
www.billboard.com
www.itv.com/itvplayer
www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer
www.crunktastical.net
and few other sites......
I'm sure you'll notice how hackeneyed these selections are. Other than TV and occasional music (with the ancient CD playing) in the living room, internet browsing is a good hobby to give laziness a better definition. It makes humdrum sound like purposeful and fun.
The new breed of human evolution is a virtually sociable hermit.
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
boor boar bore
This is my ode to some shit that don't deserve a place in this world. The use of the word trust and confidentiality is a f____g waste of time to some nincompoops who don't really care or just f____g mental to understand a concept of working let alone live a sanctioned life. I am unhappy but I guarantee that some wankers in an institution are just that, wankers who take great pleasure out of misery of people who work the hardest. Self-indulgence is an understatement because self gratification is as common as tea break and lunch (actually not, for it is more of self-subservience that's truly uncalled for).
Why do I feel so unhappy about today? Is it because a dastardly day with bitches is far too much to take when things are out of control and the least thing you want is a group of ingrates acting like "Inglorious Basterds" (thanks Quentin T.)... Yes, this is the day when wenches of witches descent rule the domain of men and wreck havoc with foul stench and evil deeds. The cauldron is up to a boil ready to pacify and soften the inquisitors and conquistadors of sane society until they are pliable and mere muppets, funny enough to lose your respect for life.
I will be at home tonight contriving and scheming... and looking for that God-forsaken foot spa I got from Boots years ago to ease my anger that finally sank down the lowest of lows - my sole. I will light a scented candle and curse my unsuspecting partner who will act as a perfect punching bag for my anguish. This emotional displacement will not guarantee healing but this blog will do. Re-reading this entry a few times will just make me envisage the sheer stupidity of a knee jerk reaction and how fatuous wankers cohabit the Earth we live in by their utmost commonality.
If all these things fail, I always have the "passive-aggressive approach" in my bag of tricks. I am not called a vindictive bitch for nothing.
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Golden Cab
heaven's frowning
over London that day
he moaned about the white shoes
drenched in mud, grimes
under the pouring rain
just like the spinning brain
of his companion
in a maelstrom, as that of
a tumble dryer
unaware of the racing pulse
and the sharp, agile eyes
cogitating death
must be an art
when hit by a golden cab
with blood splattered
reaching headlines
and a posthumous Turner
bigger reception and
better than bludgeoned
by a London black cab
I stumbled upon this moth-eaten relic-of-a-note last night and I realised how angry I was then.
a climb too high but...
I didn't vote for any of the acts of this year's X-Factor (not even the winner, Joe McElderry). I hadn't voted at all(for the years that had passed for that matter). But being an old-fashioned, antiquated lover of music, I believe in the voice more than the hype and strings of machinery of the music business. Stripping down to the basic element of singing minus the pyrotechnics, all-out dancing and subliminal messaging, I support Joe.
I'm glad he won.
love-r-ly......
There are those among us who are blessed with the power to save what is loved by another.... but powerless to use this blessing for love themselves (Alicia Keys).
Friday, 11 December 2009
Fairy Godmother Simon C.
Dreams do come true.
Ask Susan Boyle how it feels to top Billboard 200 and selling millions of records in few weeks.
Ask Susan Boyle how it feels to top Billboard 200 and selling millions of records in few weeks.
Thursday, 10 December 2009
attention span
To battle listlessness and lethargy, I decided to jot down interesting words my professor articulated during her 2-hour lecture presentation. The girl sat down next to me was baffled with my keenness to learn but little did she know my ulterior motive behind the attentive behaviour.
The few words were:
plethora
foci
on-the-fence
entrenched
overarching
presage
freestanding
When interesting words became scarce, I opted to count her repetitive enunciation of "alright" which tallied up to 18 times. By this time, my mind had already wandered so far away doing some window shopping.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Bette
Bette Midler performed for the Queen at this year's Royal Variety Show.
She quipped, " Tonight is a dream come true for me but I feel very, very prepared because I have been singing for queens my entire life. At last I'm singing in front of a real one".
She quipped, " Tonight is a dream come true for me but I feel very, very prepared because I have been singing for queens my entire life. At last I'm singing in front of a real one".
What I want
It is christmas soon and to give a gift is customary.
With these difficult times, what do I really want for christmas? But before I got to ask myself that question, my partner did drop a hint few days ago as to what I desire (Desire, being the operative word) for this holiday gift-giving season. That left me in a state of dilemma of prioritisation.
I have quite a few in mind to cater my carnal and earthly self:
A Ralph Lauren cashmere jumper in royal blue or black
A Plasteramic Toywatch
A Raf Simons Eastpack rucksack
A black peacoat from G-Star
A Vivienne Westwood brooch/pin
A puffer jacket from Alpha Industries
If I have the money to spoil myself rotten, I'd never have second thoughts of buying these items for christmas:
A Givenchy peacoat with leather sleeves
A Balthazar Holdall from Mulberry
However, I still have Uniqlo to thank for if things go pear-shaped. In fact, I have a deeper understanding of the Holidays so no pressure MY DEAR.
With these difficult times, what do I really want for christmas? But before I got to ask myself that question, my partner did drop a hint few days ago as to what I desire (Desire, being the operative word) for this holiday gift-giving season. That left me in a state of dilemma of prioritisation.
I have quite a few in mind to cater my carnal and earthly self:
A Ralph Lauren cashmere jumper in royal blue or black
A Plasteramic Toywatch
A Raf Simons Eastpack rucksack
A black peacoat from G-Star
A Vivienne Westwood brooch/pin
A puffer jacket from Alpha Industries
If I have the money to spoil myself rotten, I'd never have second thoughts of buying these items for christmas:
A Givenchy peacoat with leather sleeves
A Balthazar Holdall from Mulberry
However, I still have Uniqlo to thank for if things go pear-shaped. In fact, I have a deeper understanding of the Holidays so no pressure MY DEAR.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Taking control
Don't get me wrong but this is a different work for I haven't really worked weekends for yonks. I forgot how tedious it is to take the early Sunday transport amidst the heavy downpour of December rain. It is not to say the party's not fun at all but life in it's balancing act, figures out a way to equate things out. It's saying, "Ryan, you had fun last night, now reap the opposite end of the spectrum; have fun with the rain and transport delays as you try to kickstart your brain fried by too much karaoke, booze and undigested food".
To get into high brow thinking, Einstein must be right with his practical application of Theory of Relativity (since I can't truly defend the notion with grit and ardour, I'd leave it to the reader's capabilities). But it needs no nous wastage for it's simple. An excess of everything do you no good. The body can only take as much even if it's so much fun. In fact, fun is relatively dangerous. The overland train just pulled over at the West Ham station where I need to take the underground to get into the groove of finding my way home. The rain, getting the memo from the Higher Being, just keeps its unabated pouring from the heavens. I made a big mistake; suede boots and rain make good antithesis but not together at the same time.
Today's Sunday but just like a new circumstance for me, I sense people slugging it out with the morning elements to get to work on time. I forgot how it feels to join that Sunday people parade but today is surely the day to be reminded of how I reluctantly crawled out of the duvet during those past bitter cold winters. The woman next to me has to drop off her child to a minder first before rushing to her workplace while I try to rush my way home to a comfy bed. It's not fair, is it?
The lesson is this: Try to have more fun to the point of not feeling your limbs or your brain or until your senses shut down. You harbor equal measure of consequences anyway. Actually, ignore that. That is exactly what a nonsensical good for nothing bacchanalian would advise someone who doesn't know any better. I must have had a moderate dose of fun yesterday that it's only the natural elements I have to contend with and not my jelly legs. I don't imagine myself finding my way home easily if my sensible brain is still highly intoxicated, do I? I see the homestretch now and I don't even feel like emptying my stomach contents to my unsuspecting seatmate. This is called fun weekend that even if I have to do some real work right now, I'd manage to cross the finishing line and still reflect on the day. Coffee will do just fine as an ally.
Now, where is my brolley. I'd still get punished by incessant unrelenting and inexorable rain, wouldn't I? I am sorry "karma unleashers" but I do come prepared.
To get into high brow thinking, Einstein must be right with his practical application of Theory of Relativity (since I can't truly defend the notion with grit and ardour, I'd leave it to the reader's capabilities). But it needs no nous wastage for it's simple. An excess of everything do you no good. The body can only take as much even if it's so much fun. In fact, fun is relatively dangerous. The overland train just pulled over at the West Ham station where I need to take the underground to get into the groove of finding my way home. The rain, getting the memo from the Higher Being, just keeps its unabated pouring from the heavens. I made a big mistake; suede boots and rain make good antithesis but not together at the same time.
Today's Sunday but just like a new circumstance for me, I sense people slugging it out with the morning elements to get to work on time. I forgot how it feels to join that Sunday people parade but today is surely the day to be reminded of how I reluctantly crawled out of the duvet during those past bitter cold winters. The woman next to me has to drop off her child to a minder first before rushing to her workplace while I try to rush my way home to a comfy bed. It's not fair, is it?
The lesson is this: Try to have more fun to the point of not feeling your limbs or your brain or until your senses shut down. You harbor equal measure of consequences anyway. Actually, ignore that. That is exactly what a nonsensical good for nothing bacchanalian would advise someone who doesn't know any better. I must have had a moderate dose of fun yesterday that it's only the natural elements I have to contend with and not my jelly legs. I don't imagine myself finding my way home easily if my sensible brain is still highly intoxicated, do I? I see the homestretch now and I don't even feel like emptying my stomach contents to my unsuspecting seatmate. This is called fun weekend that even if I have to do some real work right now, I'd manage to cross the finishing line and still reflect on the day. Coffee will do just fine as an ally.
Now, where is my brolley. I'd still get punished by incessant unrelenting and inexorable rain, wouldn't I? I am sorry "karma unleashers" but I do come prepared.
Tiring tirades
Please listen as I speak
You know that I love you
You know that I am sick
Of a thousand more tirades
I know that you truly hate
I know that you just heed
To banish from our minds
We know that we suffer
We know that we'll find
Tomorrow's a new day
That you and I, in love as ever
As we put end to endless bray.
Friday, 4 December 2009
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Hotaru no Haka
It is 0130 and I'm still wide awake. My alarm's set at 0700 and that leaves me little quality sleep for tomorrow's toiling. I can lull myself to REM but there is a greater force that is occupying my waking moment. This television viewing is atypically compelling at this most unholy and unsocial of hours. I missed the first twenty minutes of the movie but there is something about subtitled films that make you reconsider to re-adjust your attention span. I'm now hooked.
There are three visual things I like about this film:
The fruit tin
The bunker
The fireflies
In most times, their solitude is a distinct company for swamp fireflies that provide the fleeting illumination to their struggles and pains. The same fireflies obliging as lantern to the pitch black confines of the dingy bunker and their fading hope. As the music painfully reverberates, he watches his sister incinerate to ashes with the burning dry oak branches and keeps the remains inside the fruit tin.
At nearly 0230, the credits roll. This is an animation but oddly, the little girl is a picture of pitiful state in the end. This is a sad ending for a Studio Ghibli standard. It is now 0400 and I am still in awe, ruminating.
There are three visual things I like about this film:
The fruit tin
The bunker
The fireflies
In most times, their solitude is a distinct company for swamp fireflies that provide the fleeting illumination to their struggles and pains. The same fireflies obliging as lantern to the pitch black confines of the dingy bunker and their fading hope. As the music painfully reverberates, he watches his sister incinerate to ashes with the burning dry oak branches and keeps the remains inside the fruit tin.
At nearly 0230, the credits roll. This is an animation but oddly, the little girl is a picture of pitiful state in the end. This is a sad ending for a Studio Ghibli standard. It is now 0400 and I am still in awe, ruminating.
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