hello hello...
I came back from the hall room.... unscathed! haha. silly.
It's quite small, the room. dunno. I'm not going to spend very much time in there? Or maybe my room and I need more time to get aquainted. After all, I just wiped it up a little bit, and left my luggage plonked there. haha. I think I need to know it better.
I'm still me! :)
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Last words from a certain Me
I've spent the last couple of days reading through my entire blog. My Rachel Moods, or muse as I used to call her, are few and far between. Guess chelism.blogspot isn't as good as I once thought it was. I would have liked an entire collection of whimsical phantasies.
As I write this, there's a sense of sadness. I would like to say profound sadness, like they do in books, but maybe my sadness isn't profound enough to be counted. I don't know.
I write this knowing in all certainty that this will be my last post. Of course, defining "my" as who I am now. The Me that has taken all of nineteen years to culmulate.
As of this Friday, 28th July, this Me will be taken into another universe. -ity. I check in to [check-in to? check into?] eusoff hall.
oh orientation orientation...
oh meeting people, and .having. to have fun. It's the enforcing of team spirit that completely confounds me and is the issue I am afraid will alienate me from the enthusiastic, "we must have Team Spirit!" clones. I went to nus recently for the medical checkup and there were so many people I knew from jc, from school... who were there helping to do the float for rag day because they wanted to. It's like, I don't get. It. whatever It is. I'm still trying to figure out for myself, struggling to put into words why exactly I'm so painfully aghast about orientation. The irony is, I was house capt in jc [go hawking!], and freelance as a camp instructor. So I'm no stranger at all to cheers, to games, to whateverwhateverwhatevers.
When I think about orientation, my stomach actually twists. oh I've found the word. Anxiety. yeah. That fits it.
I realised that I think of the entire university as a plethora of pseudos. Like the entire hall of Legally Blonde meets Mean Girls meets Bring It On. All the cool people, or posuers, at least. Everyone who looks the same. You know what I mean? Short skirts paired with babydoll tees. ponytail or spiffy short haircuts.
I don't fit in. :/
I'm not about to walk into banana world [my idea of hall orientation group] and start cheering my head off. Manufactured is something I don't do.
So what will I do in uni? Stay away and earn one of my Miss Arrogant, Miss Proud, Miss Aloof, Miss Distant etc titles again? It's not like I like it. you know. When I was in J1, and we'd just gotten back out class photos, I was looking at it and admiring our happy faces when ben came over, poked his finger into my face and bluntly went, "when I first saw you, I thought you were a stuck up, arrogant, english-speaking b*tch". Talk about in one's face.
I really wonder what will happen...
Hey everyone. Do me a favour. Delete me from your links. I've gathered a most satisfactory readership over the years, and you guys are all I need. You guys are all I need. so, yeah. Thanks.
As I write this, there's a sense of sadness. I would like to say profound sadness, like they do in books, but maybe my sadness isn't profound enough to be counted. I don't know.
I write this knowing in all certainty that this will be my last post. Of course, defining "my" as who I am now. The Me that has taken all of nineteen years to culmulate.
As of this Friday, 28th July, this Me will be taken into another universe. -ity. I check in to [check-in to? check into?] eusoff hall.
oh orientation orientation...
oh meeting people, and .having. to have fun. It's the enforcing of team spirit that completely confounds me and is the issue I am afraid will alienate me from the enthusiastic, "we must have Team Spirit!" clones. I went to nus recently for the medical checkup and there were so many people I knew from jc, from school... who were there helping to do the float for rag day because they wanted to. It's like, I don't get. It. whatever It is. I'm still trying to figure out for myself, struggling to put into words why exactly I'm so painfully aghast about orientation. The irony is, I was house capt in jc [go hawking!], and freelance as a camp instructor. So I'm no stranger at all to cheers, to games, to whateverwhateverwhatevers.
When I think about orientation, my stomach actually twists. oh I've found the word. Anxiety. yeah. That fits it.
I realised that I think of the entire university as a plethora of pseudos. Like the entire hall of Legally Blonde meets Mean Girls meets Bring It On. All the cool people, or posuers, at least. Everyone who looks the same. You know what I mean? Short skirts paired with babydoll tees. ponytail or spiffy short haircuts.
I don't fit in. :/
I'm not about to walk into banana world [my idea of hall orientation group] and start cheering my head off. Manufactured is something I don't do.
So what will I do in uni? Stay away and earn one of my Miss Arrogant, Miss Proud, Miss Aloof, Miss Distant etc titles again? It's not like I like it. you know. When I was in J1, and we'd just gotten back out class photos, I was looking at it and admiring our happy faces when ben came over, poked his finger into my face and bluntly went, "when I first saw you, I thought you were a stuck up, arrogant, english-speaking b*tch". Talk about in one's face.
I really wonder what will happen...
Hey everyone. Do me a favour. Delete me from your links. I've gathered a most satisfactory readership over the years, and you guys are all I need. You guys are all I need. so, yeah. Thanks.
Monday, July 24, 2006
An update
Hello people. I've been down with gastric flu... something I've never heard of. hah. You'd think people should get sick with only what they've been told/heard/read about. A little knowledge about what exactly is causing so much discomfort would be good.
"Gastroenteritis (gastric flu) see also Salmonellosis, Food poisoning
Inflammation of digestive tract, usually caused by a virus... caused by contaminated food or water, by specific food which produce an extreme allergic reaction (see Allergy), by a sudden change in diet (abroad, for example), or by any illness or drug which alters natural balance of bacteria in gut. Symptoms vary in severity, usually pass off within 48 hours; a bad case will cause repeated Nausea and vomiting, Diarrhoea, cramping Abdominal pain, Fever, and exhaustion; a mild case may be limited to vague nausea and a loose stool or two. In infants and elderly people, 'stomach upsets' can be serious as they easily lead to dehydration and even Shock. Best treatment is rest and plenty of fluids, though GP may prescribe drugs to control vomiting and diarrhoea.
(website:http://www.drlockie.com/disease/gastro.htm)"
Yeah well. My turn to play doctor.
"Gastricus Fluous (gastric flu) see also, Too Much Durian, Foolhardiness
Appears to have been caused by careless eating habits. Patient was indulging in a durian-stuffing orgy on friday afternoon when a seed fell off her hand, hit the durian thorns and landed on the newspaper. Patient apparently decided that she was superman's secret sister and finished that seed. -fastforward a few hours-.
Patient is feverish [38.1'C] on her way home, but shrugs it off with a cold bath and a panadol.
Friday night: Fever and nightmares throughout, and her asthma comes back.
Saturday morning: Fever [38.6'C] is unabated, but patient still goes for CAC's captain's ball games. She reaches Vincent Hall at 0822, and there's briefing and worship before her first game at 1000. By 0900 she can't take the cold she feels anymore and has to be led out of the hall. Someone gets two panadols for her. She falls asleep in the direct sunlight, wearing a sweater over her jersey and a shirt covering her legs.
She plays for GMC till 1500. By that time, her friends are insistent she go home, telling her she's "flushed". She comtemplates going for yf [school day] at 1600, but decides that going for a bbq [visiting missionary family] at 1800 is more important.
After she reaches home and takes her bath, she starts shivering convulsively. She's jerking so hard she can't take her panadol. It's so cold it's painful.
Spends another night filled with vivid nightmares that exhaust her, body chills that don't go away, persistently aching legs which feel like they've got lactic acid in them. So that she gets out of bed worse than when she got into it. [39.6'C]
Sunday: She
-literally goes blind temporarily
- has diahorrea
-hyperventilates
-is unable to walk unassisted
-gets her period
-Resumes her Life In Bed. She would have spent a total of approximately 50 consecutive hours in bed before she gets up. [I didn't include toilet breaks]
Monday: She spends the entire morning touching her lips. They are swollen, soft on the outside and hard inside. [sounds like some food huh] She is worried she'll spend her whole life with swollen lips. Her diahorrea has also advanced into pure water. [dark coloured, of course] Which is quite amazing, considering she ate very little on saturday, and practically nothing on sunday. papa also comes in, and insists she leave the bed and sleep on the floor because according to him, "[her] waterbed isn't cool anymore. the water has turned warm!".
By afternoon her neck is stiff from lying down for 50 consecutive hours, and she is getting a headache. She also pronounces the thermometer spoilt. Her fever never goes down.
[website: www.chelism.blogspot.com]"
Yeah well. It really was just about the worst weekend of my life I think. The nightmares were... it was as though I was witnessing it all with my eyes open. try spending the entire night with your eyes open. And they were very real.. in terms of the people in it. the first night, each one of my classes was set a task to complete, otherwise harm would come to them, and I was the only teacher there. and I was already dying. [literally, in the dream.] The whole dreamscape was dark and bleak, and I could only see the panicked faces of my students. I needed to help them. All my seven classes. But the asthma wouldn't go away. Sometimes I'd cough myself awake, but that night I was unable to differentiate between what was consciousness and the unconscious...
The second night was worse in a different way. The wheezing and inability to breathe had gone, but the task more hideous. It was completely dark, and the only source of light, if it could be called that, came from a massive amount of clay. It was dark red, like diliuted blood, so that all the faces around me glowed a dark red too. They were all women. Grim-faced, lifeless. We were supposed to mould the clay.. and the monstrosity kept enlarging, kept getting harder, so it got more and more impossible to mould it, but we couldn't stop, I couldn't stop... My last memory was the darkness, and the grotesque clay, now blood red. I don't know why the women disappeared.
Try those two nights...
Physically. I really really.. repluse fevers. As in, I would spit them out and destroy them if I could. They aren't like a deep cut, or a wound. Fevers just leave you so cold all the time, and I'm really afraid of the cold in ordinary days already. I hate fevers because they make my body ache, and the cold.... the cold never stops, you know? That's the worst thing. The cold never ever leaves you, no matter how much you wear. and you're left weak... I hate feeling so weak. sigh. anyway.
Thanks for your prayers guys. Nothing like having a strong network of christian friends. (:
k. I'm quite tired by this post. Going to rest.
"Gastroenteritis (gastric flu) see also Salmonellosis, Food poisoning
Inflammation of digestive tract, usually caused by a virus... caused by contaminated food or water, by specific food which produce an extreme allergic reaction (see Allergy), by a sudden change in diet (abroad, for example), or by any illness or drug which alters natural balance of bacteria in gut. Symptoms vary in severity, usually pass off within 48 hours; a bad case will cause repeated Nausea and vomiting, Diarrhoea, cramping Abdominal pain, Fever, and exhaustion; a mild case may be limited to vague nausea and a loose stool or two. In infants and elderly people, 'stomach upsets' can be serious as they easily lead to dehydration and even Shock. Best treatment is rest and plenty of fluids, though GP may prescribe drugs to control vomiting and diarrhoea.
(website:http://www.drlockie.com/disease/gastro.htm)"
Yeah well. My turn to play doctor.
"Gastricus Fluous (gastric flu) see also, Too Much Durian, Foolhardiness
Appears to have been caused by careless eating habits. Patient was indulging in a durian-stuffing orgy on friday afternoon when a seed fell off her hand, hit the durian thorns and landed on the newspaper. Patient apparently decided that she was superman's secret sister and finished that seed. -fastforward a few hours-.
Patient is feverish [38.1'C] on her way home, but shrugs it off with a cold bath and a panadol.
Friday night: Fever and nightmares throughout, and her asthma comes back.
Saturday morning: Fever [38.6'C] is unabated, but patient still goes for CAC's captain's ball games. She reaches Vincent Hall at 0822, and there's briefing and worship before her first game at 1000. By 0900 she can't take the cold she feels anymore and has to be led out of the hall. Someone gets two panadols for her. She falls asleep in the direct sunlight, wearing a sweater over her jersey and a shirt covering her legs.
She plays for GMC till 1500. By that time, her friends are insistent she go home, telling her she's "flushed". She comtemplates going for yf [school day] at 1600, but decides that going for a bbq [visiting missionary family] at 1800 is more important.
After she reaches home and takes her bath, she starts shivering convulsively. She's jerking so hard she can't take her panadol. It's so cold it's painful.
Spends another night filled with vivid nightmares that exhaust her, body chills that don't go away, persistently aching legs which feel like they've got lactic acid in them. So that she gets out of bed worse than when she got into it. [39.6'C]
Sunday: She
-literally goes blind temporarily
- has diahorrea
-hyperventilates
-is unable to walk unassisted
-gets her period
-Resumes her Life In Bed. She would have spent a total of approximately 50 consecutive hours in bed before she gets up. [I didn't include toilet breaks]
Monday: She spends the entire morning touching her lips. They are swollen, soft on the outside and hard inside. [sounds like some food huh] She is worried she'll spend her whole life with swollen lips. Her diahorrea has also advanced into pure water. [dark coloured, of course] Which is quite amazing, considering she ate very little on saturday, and practically nothing on sunday. papa also comes in, and insists she leave the bed and sleep on the floor because according to him, "[her] waterbed isn't cool anymore. the water has turned warm!".
By afternoon her neck is stiff from lying down for 50 consecutive hours, and she is getting a headache. She also pronounces the thermometer spoilt. Her fever never goes down.
[website: www.chelism.blogspot.com]"
Yeah well. It really was just about the worst weekend of my life I think. The nightmares were... it was as though I was witnessing it all with my eyes open. try spending the entire night with your eyes open. And they were very real.. in terms of the people in it. the first night, each one of my classes was set a task to complete, otherwise harm would come to them, and I was the only teacher there. and I was already dying. [literally, in the dream.] The whole dreamscape was dark and bleak, and I could only see the panicked faces of my students. I needed to help them. All my seven classes. But the asthma wouldn't go away. Sometimes I'd cough myself awake, but that night I was unable to differentiate between what was consciousness and the unconscious...
The second night was worse in a different way. The wheezing and inability to breathe had gone, but the task more hideous. It was completely dark, and the only source of light, if it could be called that, came from a massive amount of clay. It was dark red, like diliuted blood, so that all the faces around me glowed a dark red too. They were all women. Grim-faced, lifeless. We were supposed to mould the clay.. and the monstrosity kept enlarging, kept getting harder, so it got more and more impossible to mould it, but we couldn't stop, I couldn't stop... My last memory was the darkness, and the grotesque clay, now blood red. I don't know why the women disappeared.
Try those two nights...
Physically. I really really.. repluse fevers. As in, I would spit them out and destroy them if I could. They aren't like a deep cut, or a wound. Fevers just leave you so cold all the time, and I'm really afraid of the cold in ordinary days already. I hate fevers because they make my body ache, and the cold.... the cold never stops, you know? That's the worst thing. The cold never ever leaves you, no matter how much you wear. and you're left weak... I hate feeling so weak. sigh. anyway.
Thanks for your prayers guys. Nothing like having a strong network of christian friends. (:
k. I'm quite tired by this post. Going to rest.
Friday, July 21, 2006
how would you define rachel?
i want durians.. says:
Check this out.
i want durians.. says:
rachel --[noun]:A person with a sixth sense for detecting the presence of goblins
FDKY says:
hmmm.
FDKY says:
rachel-- a lazy person with a 1GB stomach
........................
I have no idea what a GB is, but how would you, dearly beloved postie, define rachel?
Check this out.
i want durians.. says:
rachel --[noun]:A person with a sixth sense for detecting the presence of goblins
FDKY says:
hmmm.
FDKY says:
rachel-- a lazy person with a 1GB stomach
........................
I have no idea what a GB is, but how would you, dearly beloved postie, define rachel?
Thursday, July 20, 2006
| rachel -- [noun]: A person with a sixth sense for detecting the presence of goblins 'How" will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
if a picture paints a thousand words...
...then all of you in here would know what the photos mean, the one you are in.
love you all :)
love you all :)
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Letter to Home..
Hello
Isn't it weird? After more than six months of not writing..
But I just want to say something. I don't know what will come out.. I'll just write them down.
I missed you guys badly on sunday, miss you guys still. But it's not so bad, you know? For which I'm glad. Can you imagine me teaching if I were in the same state as I was last year when I came back? hah.
Or maybe it's because some of you are coming over on thursday. Just two days more. A part of me can't wait, and a part of me dreads it.
Remember how I once said I'd never want any of you to come over? I'm so afraid all you'll see is the facade, the glitz and glamour of city lights, and forget the warmth and glow that comes from the fairy ones. Would you covert, and want to stay over?
Would you be able to see the pain behind the bright smile of the zen house? The one with the lap pool, a basement and two maids. The one with the gentle hostess, the calm and elegance of her clothes.. and the forbidden upstairs bedroom.
John grabbed her wrist; I paused.
"Did he hit you?"
"John..", and she gently attempts to pull away
He tolds tighter.
"Did he hit you again??" fiercer now, demanding and persistent.
All these years I've analysed her answering shrug in my mind. Rehearsed the scene over and over again. Was it resignation in her shrug? That, my son, I am a divorced woman. I take what comes.
And what love? What love does the city hold, and your home does not have? The city's lovers are vice, greed and ambition. Envy and strife are her constant companions. Self is the Order of the Day. Of the Month. Of the Year.
selfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfself
Your Home is named The Christian Home of Love.
Your Home is named The Christian Home of Love.
Isn't it weird? After more than six months of not writing..
But I just want to say something. I don't know what will come out.. I'll just write them down.
I missed you guys badly on sunday, miss you guys still. But it's not so bad, you know? For which I'm glad. Can you imagine me teaching if I were in the same state as I was last year when I came back? hah.
Or maybe it's because some of you are coming over on thursday. Just two days more. A part of me can't wait, and a part of me dreads it.
Remember how I once said I'd never want any of you to come over? I'm so afraid all you'll see is the facade, the glitz and glamour of city lights, and forget the warmth and glow that comes from the fairy ones. Would you covert, and want to stay over?
Would you be able to see the pain behind the bright smile of the zen house? The one with the lap pool, a basement and two maids. The one with the gentle hostess, the calm and elegance of her clothes.. and the forbidden upstairs bedroom.
John grabbed her wrist; I paused.
"Did he hit you?"
"John..", and she gently attempts to pull away
He tolds tighter.
"Did he hit you again??" fiercer now, demanding and persistent.
All these years I've analysed her answering shrug in my mind. Rehearsed the scene over and over again. Was it resignation in her shrug? That, my son, I am a divorced woman. I take what comes.
And what love? What love does the city hold, and your home does not have? The city's lovers are vice, greed and ambition. Envy and strife are her constant companions. Self is the Order of the Day. Of the Month. Of the Year.
selfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfselfself
Your Home is named The Christian Home of Love.
Your Home is named The Christian Home of Love.
Monday, July 17, 2006
back
Back from chiang mai... without my notebook so I can't write properly to close it. sigh.
Anyone curious can look at posts starting from 24th december 2005 to 2nd Jan 06. It's quite "mopey" [in the words of tim] though, so be warned.
I'll try to write more again.
Anyone curious can look at posts starting from 24th december 2005 to 2nd Jan 06. It's quite "mopey" [in the words of tim] though, so be warned.
I'll try to write more again.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
and then..
It's sobering when morality hits, a sense of vulnerablilty that grips the heart like the figuartive slap across the face people claim to feel when they suddenly see the error of their ways, that they have been most embarrassingly in the wrong. Except this time, it's morality that has risen the hand, so the slap doesn't smack [pun unintended] of judgements; there is nothing to be critical about morality.
It comes in the form of audio waves; invisible vibrating particles that the ear drum recives and the brain registers as a double beep. Surely evenone knows the message tone of a nokia phone. Maybe you have one. well flip it open and read the message.
Morality shoves you.
You'd stagger across the room if you can, but the staffroom looks unkindly on such antics. Not having been hit with the same dose of morality, it still. judges.
To what end? Again, Tuesdays with Morrie comes to mind.
Blare the trumpets, heralers, burst thy lungs. Unfurl the flag, ye knights, let it be known that our nicklaus is hospitalised. Prepare the saddles, rouse the calvery. Make haste to NUH/
Light the lamps, cleanse the lips with coal. Don the priestly garments, kneel and interceed.
___________________________________
And a day passes, and nick has been discharged from hospital.
But I think on. If I were to die within the next.. I don't know. What would I want to do before I die?
I'd hike across the Great Wall of china.. I'd take trains across america, the entire country. Then I'd buy me a train concession in europe. switzerland? hop on; germany? this way, 'mam...
I'd write. I've always wanted to write. I've always been writing.
I'd buy a lorryload of durians and drive it around the neighbourhood at night. uncles, grandpas and their children and spouses will come down. Laughter and chatter will be heard as the older generation reminscise, do you remember? do you remember? how we used to do it like this? in their various dielects and languages. The young ones will revel in the excitement, raising the carnival atmosphoere. All will buy and choose, and bargain. Loud agressive chinese accents will be heard selling, and picking, but somehow everyone across all races will understand. Bright flourescent bulbs will hang from the lorry, so that the durian flesh can be clearly seen. see see, hou jiak morh. bu yao shou uncle pian ni, yi ding hen hao chi de
Maybe the celebrations [this is a celebration, no?] will last into the night, with eeryone sharing, or maybe their voices will peter out into nothingness as they make their way home to feast in the warm kitchen. Either way, I will smile from the lorry and think, this was for daddy.
I can't think of anything else, but I think it's quite a lot already. Walk across the great wall of china, travel east and west, buy a durian truck...
Anyone wants to do this with me?
It comes in the form of audio waves; invisible vibrating particles that the ear drum recives and the brain registers as a double beep. Surely evenone knows the message tone of a nokia phone. Maybe you have one. well flip it open and read the message.
Morality shoves you.
You'd stagger across the room if you can, but the staffroom looks unkindly on such antics. Not having been hit with the same dose of morality, it still. judges.
To what end? Again, Tuesdays with Morrie comes to mind.
Blare the trumpets, heralers, burst thy lungs. Unfurl the flag, ye knights, let it be known that our nicklaus is hospitalised. Prepare the saddles, rouse the calvery. Make haste to NUH/
Light the lamps, cleanse the lips with coal. Don the priestly garments, kneel and interceed.
___________________________________
And a day passes, and nick has been discharged from hospital.
But I think on. If I were to die within the next.. I don't know. What would I want to do before I die?
I'd hike across the Great Wall of china.. I'd take trains across america, the entire country. Then I'd buy me a train concession in europe. switzerland? hop on; germany? this way, 'mam...
I'd write. I've always wanted to write. I've always been writing.
I'd buy a lorryload of durians and drive it around the neighbourhood at night. uncles, grandpas and their children and spouses will come down. Laughter and chatter will be heard as the older generation reminscise, do you remember? do you remember? how we used to do it like this? in their various dielects and languages. The young ones will revel in the excitement, raising the carnival atmosphoere. All will buy and choose, and bargain. Loud agressive chinese accents will be heard selling, and picking, but somehow everyone across all races will understand. Bright flourescent bulbs will hang from the lorry, so that the durian flesh can be clearly seen. see see, hou jiak morh. bu yao shou uncle pian ni, yi ding hen hao chi de
Maybe the celebrations [this is a celebration, no?] will last into the night, with eeryone sharing, or maybe their voices will peter out into nothingness as they make their way home to feast in the warm kitchen. Either way, I will smile from the lorry and think, this was for daddy.
I can't think of anything else, but I think it's quite a lot already. Walk across the great wall of china, travel east and west, buy a durian truck...
Anyone wants to do this with me?
Sunday, July 02, 2006
brain degeneration [oh look! 5 syllabus!]
I swear, I can't think anymore.
I can't even think why I can't think. hah.
and it's probably quite telling that I think legally blonde is a nice show.
Here's me, on my way to bimbodom.
That's my feather boa, and he's my angel complete with wings/I like this photo :)/see all reputable bimbos have large 70s sunglasses/he doesn't like my feather boa, and I don't like him wearing it. that's why we're sad/I'm really sad!/and then we decide to share. sharing's good. (:/see. sharing's good/so we look happy/and ermm all reputable bimbos have large 70s sunglasses? or is it respectable?
mann. I hope my students never find my blog.
I can't even think why I can't think. hah.
and it's probably quite telling that I think legally blonde is a nice show.
Here's me, on my way to bimbodom.
That's my feather boa, and he's my angel complete with wings/I like this photo :)/see all reputable bimbos have large 70s sunglasses/he doesn't like my feather boa, and I don't like him wearing it. that's why we're sad/I'm really sad!/and then we decide to share. sharing's good. (:/see. sharing's good/so we look happy/and ermm all reputable bimbos have large 70s sunglasses? or is it respectable?mann. I hope my students never find my blog.
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