my first post from france! wow, how momentous. certainly so considering that i do not have internet connection in my room yet ( how crap, word has it that it would come in Oct, *keeps fingers crossed* ), and i always have to walk to ecole centrale paris (gibson's sch) and use his laptop. thank god for him and his T1 connection. its a pity that i have to walk abt 20 mins to his place tho. i walk a lot more here than in spore. before i launch into a tirade about the happenings these past 1 week, i would like to thank all of those who had come to send me off at the airport. Merci beaucoup! and do keep in touch.

never have i embraced fellow asians and PRCS more effusively! seeing another chinese/asian wld immed trigger a thought of 'hey! another tong2 zhi4..' im feeling homesick from time to time, and this is especially punctuated when i call home/email with my family. i guess i'll never say this again but i really miss all the musique that my DJ parents spin, and teasing/talking with my bro too. all this is worsened because im always doing things and settling things on my own, in a language of which i have only mediocre mastery. and the lack of company occasionally sets me pining for sporeans back home. one gd thing about not having sporeans around you is that ure forced to mix around with other people. my french language cls is a mini-UN conference in itself (as in US and UK for that matter), and since theres not many sporeans around, u mingle with the affable causasians. and they are really havoc ppl. after a dear meal of Macdo for dinner that cost 6 euros, we went clubbing, and i venture to say that they are really really havoc. for one thing, their shots are very strong and yet they hold their liquor damn damn well, but the things they do after that! they pull tables to the centre of the dance floor and dance on it, and this italian girl started fondling and kissing passionately with another guy that just joined her, tsk tsk.. oh, but how they grinded.. haha

its been one week already, and its not easy at all settling in on my own. i feel very lonely and down at times, and being the only sporean in my residence as well as always witnessing other ppl hanging out with their fellow kakis from back home sux. worse still, the weather's getting colder. imagine walking back home at nite with no one on the streets and ure feeling cold despite wearing a jacket. joy. thankfully theres a couple of sporeans in the towns near mine. and settling my own 3 meals is another big headache.. catered's the way to go next time. and carnivorous me yearns for a big bowl of salad rite now, the angmohs' throats are really amazing ,they eat so much meat and heaty food and yet they dun get sore throats! what i need now is a big mug of liang cha! haha. things are so expensive here, ive spent abt 500 euros so far this week,rent included. gdness. there goes my grandiose dreams of traveling around the region! a blardy pre-paid sim card costs 30 euros,and it only has 4 euros credit, so i need to spend another 25 euros to top it up. @#$% 26 euros just for manufacturing/ labour/ delivery/ packaging costs??! 55 euros gone just like tt. there goes my grandiose dreams of traveling around the region! nvm, shall scrimp and save hard.

on a better note, im going around paris a lot! so far ive covered the louvre (5% of the exhibits at most, the place is too big..), eiffel, montmartre, champs-elysees ( shopping! impossible ), moulin rouge ( shaz, you would be right at home amidst the sex shops ha!), notre dame and st-germain. all very grand for sure, but i think all the architectural splendour is lost on bourgeoise me as i only go 'wah...' for a moment or two, go shutter-happy, walk around a little and then im done. pics wld be up another time. alright, i have to go back and study for math and physics now, sigh, tests next week. and my first chem and optics lecture tmr! wish me luck in attaining 100% comprehension.

just happened to chance upon the article below while idly flipping thru reader's digest april 2005. its written by roxanne willems snopek, and i thought its quite meaningful, except for the tragic ending.


The light on the answering machine was blinking when I walked in the door. I pressed the button and heard my husband's voice. " Hi, honey, it's me, " Ray said. " We're having a great time, but just in case a police officer comes to the door asking for me, don't worry. Everything's taken care of." I couldn't believe it. They'd been gone less than 12 hours. What could they have possibly gotten into already? Ray and Eric had met on the tennis court, athletic equals looking for a challenge. Very quickly they discovered they had other common interests- movies, music, religion, golf business, and just plain talking till the cows come home.

The first time Ray brought him home, I pasted on a smile and tried to like him. Which was hard. Eric had the polished good looks of a car salesman. His hair gelled to perfection, pristine white shirt, creased trousers and firm handshake. But was there anything beneath the surface? I wasn’t sure. That didn’t bother Ray, though. One day he came home with a pleading smile. “Eric and I are thinking of going away for a golfing weekend. What do you say? Can I go?” What did I have to say about it? Plenty! I was jealous! And I wasn’t at all thrilled at being left alone with our young children for an entire weekend. But I could see how much it meant to him. And I’d long ago accepted the fact that my extroverted husband’s social needs were far greater than mine. I bit my tongue and gave my blessing.

That first weekend adventure took their friendship to a new level. On their way to the hotel, Ray later explained, they stopped at a nearby lake to try their hands at sailing. Unfortunately, Eric didn’t sail as well as he thought he did, and Ray didn’t sail at all. After floundering hopelessly for a while, they finally caught the wind, only to discover the mini two-person boat they’d rented was way more than they could handle. They drifted into the path of a canoe containing a pair of boaters who were, if possible, even more inept. Neither party could get out of the way and they crashed. The canoe sank. Ray and Eric clumsily towed one of the canoeists back to the jetty while someone who actually knew how to sail went back for the other, floating patiently in her life jacket. Thinking that was enough sailing for one day, the guys shrugged, waved goodbye and spent the rest of the day on the greens, not knowing that an accident report was being written up with their names on it. By the time the officers caught up with them, Ray and Eric were into their second round of beers, hysterically replaying the episode. They were let off with a lecture about water safety and that was that.

Their annual golf getaway was officially established. Nurturing a new friendship is challenging. But they found ways of making a go of it. A quick cup of coffee before work. A regular Saturday morning tennis date. A round of golf every so often. Sushi lunches. Movie nights. It was hard not to be resentful. Sometimes it seemed to me that all my husband did was have fun with his friends, leaving me to be his surly after-hours secretary. "is Ray there?" "Can I talk to Ray?" Some days I wanted to say, “Ray’s not home. I don’t know when he’ll be home and when he does get here, he’s busy with dishes and nappies. Have a nice day.” Of course, I never did.

Then one evening the phone rang. It was Eric. “How’s it going?” he asked. “ What are you writing these days?” I swallowed my automatic response and told him. “Wow, that’s great. How are the kids?” Again I frowned. What did he care about our kids? But if nothing else, he was being polite. I answered him and before I knew it, we were deep in conversation. Then I heard Ray’s footsteps in the hall. “Ray just got home, Eric. Hang on, and I’ll get him for you.” “No, that’s OK,” he said quickly. “Just tell him I’ve booked tennis for Thursday lunch. Thanks!” and he hung up. I couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had a message for me, but he wanted to talk to me too. “You shouldn’t be surprised,” Ray told me. “He always asks about you and the kids. And he’s really interested in your work.”

Well who knew? Little things cemented their friendship, like a coffee brought to the office on a busy day or an e-mail saying “Hey, buddy, how’s your day going?” but neither one realised how precious their camaraderie had become until the year Ray casually suggested inviting a mutual friend along on their annual getaway. “You should have seen Eric’s face,” Ray told me later. Eric’s façade had finally cracked. He admitted to Ray that their gold weekend was something special they shared together, and he didn’t want to change that. In an age when any friendship between two heterosexual men is looked at with suspicion, it was an unprecedented moment. They’d gone past the typical slap-on-the-back guy relationship to something more: the quiet knowledge of their value to each other. From that time on, I never complained about Ray’s time with Eric. In fact, it wasn’t long before Eric began to open up to me, little by little. He suddenly became real to me. I learned to see past the shine and gloss, and grew to love him.

I opened the door to Eric one Friday evening. He was a little early to pick Ray up for their dinner and movie night, he apologised, following me into the kitchen. “No problem,” I said, waving him to a chair. “We can talk while I make dinner for the kids.” He slid into the seat and as he relaxed, the fatigue began to show. Personal challenges dovetailed with exciting business ventures had left him exhausted. “It’s all good,” he said, shaking his head, “but it’s too much all at once.” I sympathised and reassured him that his would pass. “I know,” he answered with a tired smile. “And a night out with Ray is just what I need.” Ray arrived home. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m so late!” “I’m glad you were,” Eric answered. “It gave me a chance to talk with your wife.” ‘Get going you guys,” I said, giving them each a kiss. “You don’t want to be late. Have a great time!” They grabbed their jackets, laughing and jostling each other. “We will,” they answered together.

One week after their movie night, Eric collapsed during a squash game. By the time he reached the hospital, he was gone. I held Ray when he learned of his friend’s death. I wept with him at the funeral, knowing that in a world full of shallow, short-lived relationships, Ray and Eric had the real thing, a friendship of great value. It’s Ray’s loss, but mine too. We mourn together, as a family. Sometimes it’s hard to share my husband with other people. I used to think of marriage as two people against the world, everything to each other. But that’s not how it is, nor should it be. Eric’s companionship nurtured a part of Ray’s life that I can never fully understand. Ray and Eric had an excellent adventure together. And I’m so glad they did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this would be my last post in spore for a long long time..wasnt inspired much to blog lately, partly due to packing and getting ready, and also, everything is taking on a more sombre note. and its surprising that im not very excited yet. guess the gravity wld only sink in fully when i arrive there. my last week here has been very productive, meeting a few grps of ppl in a day and eating all the good food that i can and spending as much time with fam as possible. to wax lyrical about everyone would take quite some time, and ive realised that half of them dunno abt this blog's existence, so i think the poem below the pics would do better. enjoy =) its really really beautiful and so well-written, and surprise! its written by spore's budding shakespeare wanna-be, favian poh, S46's enfant terrible who gave it to me as a 'gift'. unique indeed haha. tho you wouldnt be reading this fav, a big thanks for the rubbish and crap youve done with dev to entertain me during lectures and tuts in jc. uve added a fun, albeit spastic dimension to S46.

































The Song of Life

She:


When I was but a little girl

I looked at my grandma, and asked her all about the world

She said: “Sweetie, look into my eyes

For where there was once rustling grass and vanilla skies

There are only crippling heartaches and burdened sighs

These eyes have grown old, and wearily wise.

Run with the wind, dive into the hay

Make no sense of the ills to come, nor care beyond the day.

Let not the light leave your face, or worry cross your eyes

Indeed, thought would destroy your paradise.

Never exchange the unexplored wonders of youth

For the emotional pinions of truth.”

--

Now that those days are confined to the past

Pray tell what life has in store for us.

For this journey we have taken together

Will it end in implacable dusk?

Or does it really matter

If to each other our souls forever tether.

--

He:

In the very old and the very young

The song of the angels is loudest among

It is truly ironic that in youth we hanker for truth

And yet in truth yearn for the innocence of youth

Yet life, in all the facets it can be

Is an unrivalled thing to see

To see the sky in an irradiated dew

To see time in a wizened yew

To see love in a bodied rose

To see life in a meandering prose

--

She:

Tell me about Sun, River and Earth

Tell me about the eternal Hope

Tell me about the Hyena’s mirth

Tell me why you leave me in suspended girth

Tell me why I must henceforth in darkness grope

--

He:

About Sun, River and Earth I cannot tell

For their stories in timeless dwell

Many stories indeed I cannot say

For they would take longer than eternity and a day

Skip the race between dove and swallow I must

And the songbirds’ battle on the plain of whistling grass

There was once a town, over yonder hills and far away

Through unravelled mists and Father Time’s sway

Its name was Onriath, and it was amidst

War, Famine, Pestilence and Death

The four horsemen of the Apocalypse

With bow, scale and warmongering lust

Verdant fields died into windswept heaths

And mortar walls into pale dust.

Yet sorrow did not, could not cloud any face

For which mortar is stronger than faith?

They lit candles in the darkest hours of night

Banishing shadows and stilling fright

Bathing faces in flickering light

That is the story of hope, an ever-brightening ray

Even as the skies turn an angrier shade of grey

--

I must go, I cannot tarry

For indecision, Time and Tide have no mercy.

You have your part in life to play; I have mine

Our roles in life can never marry.

--

She:

A truth, though in good intent

Beats all the lies you could invent

Woe that my place is with my home

While yours is with the sky as your dome

Knowing what is about to pass

I would give anything for this day to last

--

He:

We are like leaves, riven from a tree

Completely hapless at the Winds’ mercy

When the East wind rises in strength

Westwards we thus bank

When the West wind rises, making us veer

Eastwards we then steer

If the winds should equal in strength contend

Mid-air we will thus suspend

In life no matter which way we choose to fall

We oft have no say in it at all

--

She:

Alas, the sweetest of honeys from any bee

Would seem like the bitter juice of Impossibility’s tree

I pray that the River of Hope spills its banks

And brings you back safe and soon to me

--

He:

Home is where the heart is

Through hoary mountains and Winter’s grasp

Through Autumn’s leafy blanket and Summer’s gasp

Through Spring’s vibrancy and Mystery’s cloak

Through crumbling castles and murky moat

Through forest’s cradle and yawning cave

Through windy coast and hero’s grave

Through neighbour’s hedge and noxious sedge

Through looming shadow and sprawling meadow

Home will always be where the heart is

--

She:

May you then encounter every creature of every size

Whether hippopotamus, turtle, or rhinoceri

May you walk unmolested through mountain and plain

Whether wyrm, serpent or dragon in your way lies

May you accomplish all deeds great and small

Yet return as you were before

--

He:

I will return with every sort of tale

Like how the dog had a flagon of ale

And ended up chasing its tail

Or about the toad which killed a fly

And caused the hungry spider to unfortunately die

How the unicorn got its horn

And also the tarpan’s jealous scorn

How the monkeys celebrate internal strife

But yet grieve for any slain by a hunter’s knife

The story of Water-- the ugly truth, the beautiful lie

The view from the top of every mountain nigh

The love story of Sun and Moon

That makes so many lovers cry and poets swoon

I will return, hearty and hale

And regale you with every sort of tale

--

She:

I hope you conquer the azure mountains in the distance

May you never take, but never fear, the path of most resistance

Hear the cry of every hunted hare

Wear the shimmering stars in your hair

I hope all your hopes and dreams take wing

And that for you all the cherubs heavenly sing

--

He:

Look into the stars at night, for there you will see me

Look into your heart when you are lonely, for there you will feel me

Our paths diverge here, and I will glimpse you across the sky

For you cannot change, and nor can I

--

She:

The dark waters under the bridge reflect my melancholic woe

Yet when all that you said I now rightly know

Through life I can then happily go

Forever looking across Infinity’s moor

Forever waiting at Eternity’s door

Even without intervention divine

In every pine I can see a rosy twine

In every dark cloud a silver line

Yet how would a single man make a difference in this world

You could not stop the wind from blowing, or the maelstrom’s whirl

--

He:

You see this caterpillar I just returned to the tree?

Our actions resonate further than we can see

This caterpillar will futurely a beautiful butterfly be

And then the difference you will more clearly see

No matter how minor it may seem

It made a world of difference to him

--

She:

A caterpillar I must then be

For you have made a world of difference to me

I will hang my harp on yonder weeping willow tree

And pray the world goes fair with thee

For you have made a world of difference to me

havent blogged for a week- blogging lethargy has finally set in. was lamenting in the past that the french are taking their own sweet time to reply, and now that they have roused from their deep grandes vacances slumber, everything's settled very quickly. went down to the embassy today to make the stupid visa, which was delayed due to insurance complications argh; and i made one of the gravest gaffes ever. i made small talk with S, this ambassador assistant who has always been guiding me in adminstrative procedures, and i casually asked if she has been in spore long. she said that shes married to a local and have been here for 2 yrs already. i then recall seeing her months ago with a large tummy, and so i asked her how many kids she has. when she replied she has none, i was so surprised i daftly blurted out tt i saw her pregnant just a few months ago.

*pregnant pause* pun unintended

it was only a second-long pause, but i immed realised my mistake and wished i shld have kept my mouth shut. she just casually waved it off as her being too fat. horrors. i really have to think before i speak next time.

and so it is that theres 9 days left. with so much to do and so little time. packing is really a chore. i wonder why US-bound students are given 64 kg. its so unfair! as if students gg to other countries need less stuff, and they still pay the same rate of airfare. perhaps the americans are traditionally gargantuan creatures and thus need more luggage allowance as well. doesnt make sense tho, wouldnt a US-bound plane with many americans onboard be severely overloaded? the point is, 30kg is too little! my books alone weigh around 5 kg, and theres so much more to stuff grrh.. can foresee a lot of repacking and squeezing to be done soon.

and i watched project superstar live!! thanks to RJ who was lucky enough to win tickets for it and asked me along. it was really gd, and tts saying a lot considering that ive never caught a single episode of it on tv, (not that i watch much tv nowadays) and was unfazed by all the fanfare fawning around kelly and kelvin. but the singing that nite was fantastic, they sounded so much better live than on tv. the audience was dichotomised into 2 seas of red and blue, and its a pity that we were seated quite high up, coz if not i could have gotten a better glimpse of the crazy guys who dressed up as mummies just because JJ would be there and would sing mu nai yi. instead i had to content with 3 fatsos in red ( kelly supporters) in front who kept mimicking kelvin's twitching face with the index finger extended. bastards. am so glad he won by such a large comfortable margin. blind people have it hard. blind people have it harder still when they are up against pretty nubile singers. blind people in project superstar have it the hardest when everyone assumes that he's winning because of sympathy votes. the panel of judges sucks, except for li wei song, whose comments obviously carried the most weight. the first guy favoured kelly so blatantly just because she was under his tutelage once. the female judge obviously cannot hold a candle to florence lian of SI; the former was just like an empty-headed parrot that repeated all that the first guy said, what about being gan3 dong4 and all that crap. nvm, at least she got to dress primly for the nite and parade her cleavage while masquerading as a know-all on singing. photos taken before the show started are still not uploaded as usual.

and now, lets move on to rachel mcadams. she first caught my eye in the hot chick, this absolutely hilarious movie starring rob schneider. she acted as some bimbo in tt, but in red eye, given a juicier role, and with brown hair this time, she managed to display better her acting chops with more panache. *applauds*



as a delectable brunette in red eye




as a ditzy blonde in the hot chick


amazing how much difference hair colours can make. cillian murphy looked weird with his murky blue eyes. but he does pull off the creepiness well. just as he did in 28 days later. and its time for bed now.. tired