Old Habits Die Hard

It is 1:10 in the morning.

I came home this evening from tea/dinner with friends I’ve not seen for a long time, only to find I had to scale my own gate to get in because I didn’t have my remote control with me. Hubby is out at a dinner and dance function so he has the remote control in his car. I didn’t drive and mine’s safe and locked in my car. Chico, who drove me home, gave me a helpful leg’s up across the gate. Thankfully he did, I’m not the tallest person I know.

One cat is curled up on my side, grooming herself and the other is, Pixel, the horribly obese brown cow is lying on his back with his belly exposed to the world. Trixie, my other beautiful brown cow, just came in and is sniffing at something in the corner next to my bed.

The hubby is still out. My toothbrush is in the overnight bag we took to Melaka which I guess is probably still in his car since I can’t find said overnight bag anywhere in the house.

I’ve taken a break from Niffeneger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife to fit in some writing before I waste most of my day tomorrow trying to capture everything I want to write down now.

It’s been an eventful evening.  I say eventful because meeting up with friends is always an event. It is even more so when it is with a friend you haven’t seen in about three years who decides to surprise everyone with his short return home from Detroit. He would have cooked up an elaborate plot to try to surprise me other than that early morning call last Saturday. But as is typical of him, he admitted he was just too lazy and dispensed with the plan. As a result, I was jolted awake by a phone call at 12 in the afternoon.

It is a comfort in today’s time-warp age where everything travels at DSL-speed, that some things never change and old habits die hard.

Dinner proved just how true this is. We reverted back to our own juvenile ways; talk laced with sexual insults and connotations, sarcastic insults hurled around like ammunition at WW2 (that was more likely me than anyone else), major bouts of eye rolling and hearty laughter, recapturing the bygone days of our much inebriated college youth, and finding out new little know jewels about ourselves.

It is momentous when old friends get together. Especially old friends separated by distance.

We discover that certain people never change. We find out that we ourselves are still the same. Friends who we know used to be reliably unreliable at keeping dates are still reliable in not showing up. Those who usually do show up fashionably late still do so with aplomb. Those who are reliable are, thankfully, still very much so.

Those of us who are vulgar are still throwing insults and vulgarities around. We who adore physical abuse, still slap people around heartily. Like I said, old habits die hard.

We may adopt slightly different personas at work, but when friends get together, we revert to our basic selves. For if we cannot be ourselves in the company of friends, where so can we expect to be ourselves?

Named Places

I love it when I read a book and I realize I am familiar with or know the places that are mentioned in the story. Just reading the names hits me with waves of nostalgia and I find myself thinking back to when I was last there.

The Time Traveler's Wife (Harvest Book) by Audrey Niffenegger is one such book. It being a National Bestseller and all, I wouldn’t have thought there’d be references to familiar names and places. I’ve read many books, bestsellers or otherwise but I have not come across many instances where places mentioned are places I can claim to be familiar with. But surprise, surprise, there is not one, but a few references to places I’m familiar with.

I went to university at Western Michigan at Kalamazoo, so Chicago was but a mere three hours’ drive away. Needless to say, that became our regular hunting ground for a taste of life in the big city. It is with much pleasure than when I’m riffing through and reading The Time Traveler's Wife that I find the present of the story takes place in Chicago, with familiar names like Michigan Avenue, Lake Shore Drive, Dearborn and I am further delighted by the fact that Clare, the traveler’s wife as a child lives in South Haven, on Lake Michigan. I remember I went to South Haven a few times, spending time at the beach with friends. Seeing the name of a place in a foreign country that you know in a book that you’re reading gives a warm feeling in the stomach. I don’t know why, but it does. It’s like, “Hey!! I know that place. I’ve been there! Wow.”

The story gets even better after that. I read that Clare’s sister is studying music with Frank Wainwright in Kalamazoo. Kalamazoo! I have not thought of Kalamazoo in a while. Some of my fondest (and darkest) memories were made in Kalamazoo. Wow!! Maybe now is the right time to bring up that Western used to organize (I don’t know if they still do) an annual music fair which brought together classical and jazz artists to the town to perform in during spring. And it was during this time about nine years ago that Rizal and I bumped into Yo Yo Ma at Detroit airport. We were coming back from our trip to San Francisco and San Diego. He was on the way to Kalamazoo to perform at Western for the fair. And the stupidest thing was, Rizal knew who he was but didn’t go up to him to ask for an autograph. I was wondering if he was who he was but I didn’t give the matter much thought (stupid girl!). I mean, we were practically on the same feeder bus standing across from him, less than five feet away and we were boarding the same airplane heading for the same place. It wasn’t till we had gotten off the plane at Kalamazoo did I realize I was in the same plane as Yo Yo Ma. Yo Yo Ma! Stupid, stupid girl!

There are many ways people associate places, people, things and events. And there are many instances where people associate with these places, people or events. Being able to associate with a particular place when mentioned in the novel I’m reading, I’m able to picture the settings more vividly. I’ve been there, I’ve seen what it’s like, I’ve felt what it’s like to be there. It all becomes clearer. The clarity is one thing. Being able to associate with a place fills me with fond reminiscence. This is because I know I probably will not return to Kalamazoo or South Haven or Grand Rapids in my lifetime (though I may make a run for Chicago). Knowing you will not step foot into a place you used to spend a lot of time in but being able to read about those places when they appear in a book stirs up many memories.

Even to places where I’ve been only for holidays or work, the feelings and memories of that time are stirred when I come across familiar names. Haight-Ashbury, Mission District, Lombard Street and the Painted Ladies in San Francisco; the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower and certain arrondissements in Paris; Young Street and Chinatown in Toronto; Chinatown, Little Italy, cetain roads and a certain restaurant in Queens (or was it Brooklyn) in New York City; the factory outlets in New Jersey; the many museums in Washington DC and certain street names; oh dear, once I get started it’s difficult to stop. I think I’ll just stop there.

It’s a pleasant surprise to find a familiar place name or two in a book. It’s like meeting an old friend whom you’ve not kept in touch with. Maybe that’s why I read as much as I do. I also forgot that I’m an escapist and am in denial of the current life which I lead and books are my only way out. I always did tell hubby that I should have been born in the time and realm of fantasy, where elves, wizards, mages, dragons and all manners of magical beings exist. And hubby has told me that if I were to exist in such a time, I would not last very long, given my rash pig-headedness. Hmm…he’s got a point. But anyway, it still would be so exciting to live in a world where real magic existed. Given my penchant for weapons, I can also see myself wielding swords, daggers and other manner of dangerous implements. Sigh…a girl can still dream.

Sexy, smouldering vampires…yummmm!!

Shelving

We finally went and bought our shelves for the study. Hubby and I finally found time on a weekday to head down to Ikea to and pick up our desired configuration of shelves. I squashed my finger trying to help him put the packages on the trolley. Smart. So then we decided to call over the Ikea people to give us a helping hand.

My books will finally, finally have a resting place. They’ll be transferred from my wardrobe, the floor, the dining table and various nooks and crannies in the house to their final home: the study.

In the meantime we’ll have to clear out our overcrowded study so that the Ikea people can install the shelves tomorrow.

Finally, finally!

Another Final

O come all ye faithful...

Joyful and triumphant….!!


I am officially in a christmas mood, although today I am pretty much a zombie from hanging out too late a few nights in a row…again!

Last night’s conlay open finals was entertaining. Well, there were a few couples who were entertaining. Two were so difficult to watch, I had to look at their feet instead of watching their faces. Yes, it was that bad. One of them I think, was clearly in the wrong category: they should have competed in the amateur category. But then again, they might not have made it to the finals if they’d competed in the amateur category.

Anyway, the champs was a no-brainer. Easily the most entertaining, with the cleanest routine and the most interesting stunts: Jackson (I don’t know if the name is right because the blurdy moron of an emcee was hosting again) and Michelle. I LURV her costumer: topaz top and tassles and black, tight pants with shiny, spangly baubles at the hem and strategically placed beading on the bum and the pelvis.

Jason and Ai Mei had a very, very nice routine. It was really a pleasure to watch their routine, however it was populated with shines and they didn’t come together much to dance. And again, compared to the champs, they were not as clean. But if I were to choose, I’d choose to watch their routine again. It really gives one a good feeling watching their routine. Although they didn’t fall in the top three, they did pick up Best Costume.

There were less judges than before. And they were a more varied panel. Again, the person with honorary titles was sitting on the panel (whatever for??!!). I think it may have been a fairer round this time.

Why is it that in each category, there is a Shakira wanna-be: bra-top and all? This time, complete with the song. Sigh…will these people never learn?

The original plan was to stay only until the last competitor had performed. But, as is my style, I stayed longer than I intended to. Even managed to throw in a couple of dances. So poor Chin Lai had to stand around and wait with me while we waited for the results.

And that is why today I feel like a zombie because you can never get straight into bed after a night out, well I can’t anyway. There is the winding down time after you return, and then the lingering a bit at the throne before the shower. There’s also the few minutes in front of the television or a bit of reading before bed. You get the picture.

I hope I can survive the studio xmas party tonight.

Poor Boy

The boy is still having trouble peeing. Sigh.

It’s been about five days since he went to the vet. I’m done giving him his anti-inflammatory pills. He’s got another 3 days or so left of antibiotics. He’s still peeing in bits and trying to massage his nether regions to stimulate the muscles to pee.

I don’t know what to do with him. I can only imagine how uncomfortable (and painful) it is not to be able to pee. He is being very good about it and not peeing all over the place like Nessa when she had the problem. He’s still limiting his pee area to his litter box; he just visits it so much more often.

I need to take him to the vet again before the problem gets worse, the pee gets blocked up in his urethra and he dies from poisoning.

Lacking

Am at the moment reading Charlaine Harris’ Dead Until Dark (Sookie Stackhouse Mysteries). It is slow going. I keep comparing it to Meyer’s exquisite debut, Twilight. In retrospect, I think Meyer may have borrowed from Harris’ hero, Bill Compton the vampire. There are many similarities. Edward and Bill: both vampires. Both have similar characteristics and are trying to live among humans. Both vampires are drawn to a specific human, namely Bella and Sookie, respectively. But the telepathy is switched between Harris’ heroine, Sookie, and Meyer’s antagonist, Edward. However, because of the writing style, I still think Edward, by far, is the sexier vampire. Maybe it’s the fact that there are so many obstacles in the way of Bella and Edward’s getting together that makes the story so delectable. As quoted in Amazon, “love burns high when thwarted by obstacles”; the reader feels so much more in Twilight than Dead Until Dark.

Where Meyer takes her time to describe her characters and settings, I find Harris’ style not quite as descriptive or fluent. The latter’s fleshing out of her characters are not quite there and her ‘script’ seems to be lacking, if only because it reads too simplistic to me. Meyer creates a palpable tension and chemistry between Bella and Edward. Even other YA writers like Sarah Dessen seems to be able to paint the delicacies, the pulls and pushes of a relationship better than Harris. Harris just seems to jump about all over the place. She lacks the ‘sophistication’ that authors like Dessen and Meyer ooze.

Sigh, basically if I were to write a novel, it would be like Harris’: lacking. I simply have no patience to write descriptions. So much for entertaining thoughts of writing a book: everything’s going up *poof* in flames.

Maybe I should shoot for a short story, or writing an illustrated book instead…

The Spud

Here’s why the Spud and I get along:

1. He is impervious to my insults


2. He is an MCP, knows it, accepts it and is proud of it (and again, is impervious to my insults about his MCPness)


3. Can display hints of being a gentleman if he wants to (which is very contrary considering he claims to be an MCP; a case of closet chivalry?)


4. He has a wicked sense of humour/sarcasm which matches, if not overshadows my own (if you’ve seen the Celcom “see football in everything” ads, you’ll know what I mean)


5. We trade insults like compliments


6. We’re both thick-skinned (but I think his is thicker)


7. He’s actually quite smart but masks it in his “spudness”


8. Is generous with tips & advice (whether you need it or not)


9. Got me an inroad for my old-style kopitiam dining table


10. He knows what he wants and that usually has to do with working as little as possible and earning as much as possible while doing the least possible that he can, thus earning him his nickname, Spud


11. Allows me to whack him and takes it like a … Spud (I was gonna say man, but nah! Spud suits him to a T. He even looks like one!!)


12. Basically because he’s a Spud, he manages to soak up or deflect most of what I throw his way.

So Spud, isn’t it amazing we get on so famously even though we’ve know each other like for what, all of two years max and have met up in what, 5 times only?

Enjoy your trip around Indonesia!!

And don’t get too big-headed that you’ve got a whole entry in your name on my blog.

One Woman Show

I miss the hubby.

I feel like I haven’t seen him in ages. I haven’t had dinner with him for days in a row. And I’ve only seen him after work probably twice this week.

I know he’s working extra hard for now, so I bear with it.

But it gets a bit lonely when I only see him for a few hours a day (if I’m lucky) for a max of three days a week.

Hopefully we get to have dinner together tonight.

If not, I will end up spending more money at Borders.

The Night That Was

All four HE couples shone like beacons in a crowded night of wannabes.

Couple #1, Erin & Martin should be commended because they put in a valiant effort for newbies to the scene; Couple #6, Peggy & Martin smouldered in their routine to No Me Ames and Peggy was sexy and sensual (unlike that Shakira wannabe who basically moved like a slut, and apparenytly June noticed that all judges' eyes were on here when she was out doing her thang during the general dance); Couple #10, Wendy & Kenneth exuded class; and Couple #12, Ai Ling & Chin Lai were smoking and capped the finals with a bang (even though bits of their routine were apparently “borrowed” by the couple before them).

In my opinion, all four couples deserved top spots in the competition. Although my opinion may be somewhat biased, they put in the most all-around showmanship of all 12 couples and rose above the wannabes. And I know all of them put in a helluva load of effort into this competition. In reality, only Wendy & Kenneth made it to the second runner-up positions. Ai Ling & Chin Lai were voted for Best Costume.

It was a very biased night. The idiot DJ was still there and of course, did famously on names and announcements. I will not even begin to go into what he said wrong (almost EVERYTHING!!). All I know is, I kept looking at either Wendy or June and telling them someone should blurdy shoot the bugger. He was so freaking getting on my nerves everytime he opened his mouth. EVERYTIME!!

Anyway, back to the competition...

How do we even begin to compete with the first runner-up who is in actual fact, brother to one of the judges? Or to the winners who, for their finale, stole moves from other couples in the heats? I am not making this up. For their routine, the champions performed at least three different moves which I saw performed by three different couples in the heats following their first heat. One was a split routine performed by a couple in the third heat. The other two moves were stolen from Peggy & Eric (the clasp and back bend move at the beginning of their routine) and Ai Ling & Chin Lai’s in-place knee-bent with one leg stretched move, only the “winners” switched it around so that the guy was doing the move instead of the girl.

How very ingenious of the competitors. Can’t think of your own move so you “borrow” (to put the term lightly) from the other competitors. And what rotten luck that the “winners” were right before Ai Ling & Chin Lai so that it looked as though it was our couple that repeated the move instead.

How do we even begin to have an unbiased position when four out of the seven judges do a different style of salsa, one hates the style that we do and the other probably doesn’t know enough to actually really judge. Out of the seven judges on the panel, only one supports our style, and we all know who she is.

Basically, we were doomed not to succeed from the start. I say doomed in the most technical sense as in, winning the competition. Oh, the club was smart enough to make sure all HE couples made it to the finals. I mean, we were the ones with the most supporters, so of course, all of us must go and support and inadvertently end up buying more drinks. But when you look at it from a technical and political point of view, our couples were not all of them ever going to make it to the top three. We were prepared for it, but we didn’t realize, or rather, I didn’t realize the tremendous odds that were stacked up against our favour.

The other finalists had their strategies planned way beforehand. Where our couples went all out even in the heats, most couples held back and only showed their “real” colours in the finals. I’d like to say that they were inspired by our professionalism and showmanship. Where our couples came dressed appropriately in all rounds, the other competitors only saw fit to dress up and impress in the final round: everyone glammed up their costumes. Except us, of course. We were already glammed right from the beginning.

To add insult to injury, the competitors saw fit to alter or change their routines, either slightly or completely, going all out in the finals. Again, this proved to be their strategy right from the start.

So where did we stand with all this going around? In reality, where the judges were concerned, I don’t think we stood much of a chance.

In my books and I think, in the HE crowd anyway, all four couples stole the night away. Personally, they’re the best. No Shakira lookalike gyrating her hips or shaking her breasts in front of the judges or even show-stopping moves “stolen” from other competitors is ever convince me that our couples are not Number One.

And this supporter here would shout herself hoarse any day to prove the point to anyone else who dares to dispute her opinion. Maybe she may hit a pitch or so off in her frenzied screeching but she’d still shriek her throat dry.

For more gory details on the finals, check out the couples’ blogs for yourself:
Chin Lai's Place
Anticipiated Serendipity
Memoirs of the Unholy Trinity

Light My Fire

I caved in yesterday. I could not stand another minute of having the cold, white light shining down on me in my bedroom (hubby likes white light, so the haus is bathed in surgical white down lights; the only sources of yellow light are the dining table light and the kitchen cabinet lights).

Plus I was getting close to desperate with fruitless shopping around for tolerably stylish standing and table lamps.

So I stepped into Ikea.

I had already decided to buy at least 1 standing light to place next to my side of the bed: the Samtid at a reasonable RM129. I was pleasantly surprised that they’d added on to their range of table and standing lamps, mainly table lamps. I was tempted to get a pair of table lamps and maybe an extra Samtid. But uncharacteristically, I managed to stop myself from buying more than just the lamp I wanted. I figured, we don’t even have our bedside tables yet, where the hell am I going to put the table lamps? The lamps on display at Ikea are not gonna sprout legs and walk away, so I can just sit it out until we at least get a bedside table or two.

Excitedly I paid for my purchase, lugged the package home and straight away got down to the business of setting the lamp up. This is the part that I enjoy most: putting the furniture together. It’s similar to fixing a jigsaw puzzle: figure out which piece goes where and voila! you have a whole working lamp.

I was immensely satisfied with the warm yellow glow that the lamp cast on my side of the bed. I love yellow light. It’s so warm and inviting. And I could move the lampshade up or down, sideways or diagonally. Perfect for reading in bed!

I was so happy with it, I left it on in my bedroom till I got ready for my nightly read before sleep.

Sigh…bliss.

If only every shopping spree ended up with such a perfect purchase.