[postcards with chimpanzees]

Went to training. Involved in a tackling drill, the other guy gave me a high tackle. His shoulder connected with my adam's apple. Great. Had to settle down on the sideline for a while. Felt like a raccoon got stuck down my throat. For a while I talked like Barry White or Tom Jones without the Welsh accent. The coach prescribed ice cream to alleviate the pain. No painkillers, no reconstructive surgery, and definitely no mind bending drugs. Just good ol' plain vanilla, or cookies and cream, or even rich chocolate. Can't argue with the coach.

In other news, my eldest sister got engaged! Wish I was there but here I am stuck here writing this atrocious and even heinous lab report.

There were instances when I woke up in the morning, still cocooned in the warmth of the blanket, it struck me that I'm already 22. Comparatively young yes, but the moment the epiphany slapped you in the face as you're lying in bed, it still managed to make my stomach churn a bit. Now, with the added knowledge of my first sister already engaged. Pretty soon, she'll get married. Then my second sister. Then my third sister. Eventually, the heavy burden of expectation will fall on ME! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo..........OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo! *hyperventilating*. Afraid? Be very afraid.

relax relax *took a ventolin puff*

[public display of spare ribs]

I was excited to go training this evening as this weekend could probably be the last match I'll play this season and I'm determined to get back that number 8 jumper. Made sure that everything is in order, even arranged all equipments that needs to be brought along on the bed.

Went out a bit late because I had to run back up to get my water bottle. Arrived at the oval and the guys are wrapping up touch rugby. Went to the coach to discuss what I need to work on - sprinting, left shoulder tackling, all that jazz. Then went to the physiotherapist to have him look at my left shoulder, a suspected muscle tear. No tackling for me today then. head to the changing room and realised, D'oh! Of all things to forgot tonight, I forgot to bring my boots and I came to the ground wearing sandals. Double D'oh! Before all the guys knew and I'll be the butt of all jokes, I slipped away quietly without even telling the coach. There's always thursday evening.

On another note, my bike is up and running again. Yeay.

[this is when the helicopters came to take me away]

My brash and cockiness cost me a front bike wheel. The irony of it all.

The poll has finally closed. 20 for not cutting, 17 the opposite. Looks like I'll keep this for a while then. If I can't stand it over the summer, it'll be gone faster than you can say, "Are you going to go my way?."

[this is the gauger]

Someone tried to stole my bike the other day. He/She (as PC as possible) tried to get away with my rear wheel in the middle of the night. The bike uses a quick release system for its wheel. Only realised that someone is trying to steal it was when I went out of the house in the morning to get to class, nearly did a face plant as the rear wheel fell off. Got my hands dirty, there goes my perfectly manicured fingernails *wink wink nudge nudge*, trying to insert the rear wheel back in place. It then dawned on me that the only reason he didn't get away with the rear wheel or (mintak jauh) the whole bike was because I invested in a good, heavy, not to mention expensive D-lock. He couldn't lift the bike to wiggle the wheel off.

About 3 days after the incident, my neighbour's bike was stolen. She was only using a cable lock (I do not want to sound as if I am boasting about my lock's superiority and effectiveness, far from it....). After she told us that her bike is stolen, I did what any rational person would do, store your bike in the bathroom and open up the windows to avoid it getting damp and rusty. A small price to pay to ensure my beloved bike (her name is Winona Ryder although she prefers me to call her sayang) stays safe.

CLICHE ALERT!!
Better safe than sorry. Better to have to move the bike everytime you need to use the bathroom than it being in the greasy hands of some druggie.
END OF CLICHE ALERT!!

[reverse bel-air]

The physics lecture theatre heating system is good. In fact, it's so warm, people kept falling off to sleep like flies. One thing I particularly like about sitting near the back is you can actually see others nodding off to sleep. The best part of observing these people from a height is you can see them having a hypnic jerk - when you're in a middle of a dream and it seems as if you're falling off a cliff and you twitch a little? Yes, that - and if they gave out a yelp, even better.

At times like these, I am particularly grateful for my hair. Whenever the lecturer is droning on and on about potential this and gauge that while churning out all the Greek alphabet known to man even Archimedes himself would blush; and people around me are nodding their head in agreement while the Sandman sprinkles dust into their eyes.Trying to stave off that sleepy feeling, I play around with my hair. Yes, that's how ambiguous I have became, just short of applying rogues to my cheeks. I look for split ends, measure how long is my hair, look for anything alien or fit as many pens as possible into it.

It's all fine and dandy until the lecturer notices you; playing with your hair, starts pointing at you; asking a spur of the moment question about how to derive the coupling constant, g, from the Feynman diagram from first principle. Everyone starts looking at you, even those asleep were waking up at this very moment. Sitting there with 2 pens, a mechanical pencil and an eraser in your hair, you try to look confident and answer nonchalantly although your brain is being a Benedict Arnold, defecting from you by taunting you with a list of things that needs to be bought - minyak masak, susu pekat, stokin, Wii @ PS3..... - realising that hiding or running away is not a viable option, you force your brain to cooperate and churn out a reasonable answer -a cross between equivocating, beating around the bush, no idea and the Indetermination Principle.

Sticks and stones may hurt my bones. I can handle the giggling, I can even handle the grinning, the taunting and the strange look from my course mates. What I can't stand is how it took me 10 whole minutes to get the eraser out.

Just for the record, I'm not ambiguous. There.

[terang bulan malam ini]

It was a cloudy day. Finished my classes, hopped on my bike and head back home. Then it started raining, at first only a drizzle, the type where you can actually see the water particles undergoing random Brownian motion. A minute later, it's no longer a drizzle. Luckily I wore my big jacket although it provided a scant protection from the bitter winter rain.

Got home. Wet, cold, grumpy. Had to go out again to get some food items. Grabbed my umbrella and the canvas shopping bag, when I went out again the rain had already stopped. My jacket is wet, my jeans are a bit damp, my backside is sodden for cycling through puddles and rain soaked bike path. And my hair, let's not even attempt to start. I had reasons to be a grumpy troll, not that I need much justification.

Went to a bread store known for its generosity in giving free bread to the poor and homeless. At the counter, as I was fumbling for my wallet and small change, the storekeeper said to me, "You don't have to pay if you don't have any money." Quickly gave him a dollar and went out of the shop as quickly as I can without making eye contact with anyone. Next time, resolved to at least tie back my hair.

[I actually don't mind]

You laugh to keep from crying, you do math to keep from crying....

thanks xkcd

[take one puff daily]

The LCD monitor arrived through the mail today. Yeay! Back in business.

Enjoice!