tell me about it

Had a false alarm a couple of weeks ago when I was having cramp-like pains and I’d thought it had come early this month but really it was late because it just came *hangs head* sigh.

So now I’m fighting back the evils of PMS and feeling sobby and tired and sulky and wanting to cry at everything.  Hormones are fiendish little things that can destroy your entire week.  Thankfully I don’t seem to be cramping (though I hope my uterus does not read this and cackle in glee because it is simply lying in wait for tomorrow; I just re-read this sentence and it sounds wrong.  Oh hell this whole post sounds wrong) so I’ll be grateful for little things.

And now while the majority of my gentle readers cover their eyes in horror and let out a scream that reaches down to the very pit of their soul - “TOO MUCH INFORMATION! TOO MUCH GAAAAACK” - I shall go find something to weep over and be maudlin.

Haven’t been taking many photos with my trusty little phone camera but here are the few I did take.

My very last inter-hall Scrabble competition was nevertheless made more fun by my partner in crime for the last three years - Eddie Quek, aka my younger brother, who 1) is not actually younger than me and 2) is not my brother. But who’s keeping track anyway?

This is him displaying his unique knack for consuming prata in a fashion normally reserved for mammals which lack opposable thumbs - look Ma, no hands!

And this is him doing his famous trademark move - the double kiss, also known as the muak muak.

—

So last Tuesday I headed to SADM in a futile effort to plead with the lecturer to let me take photography (as it turns out I’m glad I couldn’t take it, since HZ101 popped up in such an opportune fashion). As always, my visit to SADM ended up with me soaking up a lovely fifteen minutes spent in quiet fascination as I paid full attention and adoration to my surroundings.

I do so love SADM. The seemingly endless swirl of water, the little fountains, the bridge of blocks, the little oasis right in the middle of the huge pool. The grass slopes, which I’d ridiculed when it was first built but now look gorgeously calm and oasis-ey. I’m a very tactile person, so I can’t resist taking off my shoes every time and walking along the solid gravelled pathways, dipping my toes into the water, walking across the bridge and back again. I love to go at night when no one’s around and actually wade through the entire pool. It’s so peaceful and beautiful.

Dipping.

Giving up the slippers and the decorum and sitting down on the edge to happily splash a little bit.

Me reflected in the huge glass wall panels on the side of the building. You can see the grass slope ceiling behind me.

The bigger view.

Photos, out!

It is depressing, so to speak, to crave for the perfect Subway six-inch sub the whole day, and then be served a sub-standard sub when it comes to the crunch.

Puns somewhat intended.

My perfect sub, as I have often and annoyingly constantly reiterated, is a six-inch cold cut trio set atop honey oat bread, and loaded with two slices of cheese. Not toasted, because toasting dries out the bread. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and EXTRA ONIONS, EXTRA OLIVES. AND YOU, SUBWAY STAFF GIRL, WHEN I SAY EXTRA ONIONS AND EXTRA OLIVES, ESPECIALLY WITH MY EYES BUGGING OUT OF MY HEAD, IT MEANS THAT THOSE FOUR PATHETIC OLIVES AND SPRINKLE OF ONION JULIENNES ARE NOT BLOODY ENOUGH. AND BY EXTRA, I MEAN A WHOLE GENEROUS HEAPING, NOT TWO MORE OLIVES AND ONIONS.

In the end I gave myself up to the indignity of an imperfect sub because repeating “er, EXTRA olives EXTRA onions please” twice made her give me an evil waitress eye, so I decided to live with the sad sub.

At least she made up for it with lashings of red wine vinaigrette and sweet onion sauce, even though she neglected to ask if I wanted salt and/or pepper.  BUT.  When I bit into the sub.  The ham was still FROZEN.  Cold and layered with little flakes of ICE.

*SULK*

Have rediscovered joy of nearby library (okay, not THAT nearby but passable).  Also discovered joy of NLB having extended borrowing limit to eight books until the end of January!  Rock on!

On my borrowing list this week:

Going Postal by Terry Pratchett
Mad Maudlin by Mercedes Lackey
Minaret by Leila Aboulela
The Almond Picker by Simonetta Hornby
A Rhinestone Button by Gail Anderson-Dagatz
The Mysteries of Glass by Sue Gee

and two embarrassing romance novels which I will not name but will stick out my tongue in defence that I need some sop in my life and I will not be afraid to be defiantly embarrassed by my mushy romance novels ha.

Grrr.   Something wrong with connection in hall room that doesn’t let me post blog entries or check Gmail reliably.  Anyone have any idea why?

Posting from school after my first lesson this semester.  First of the last.

Yes, this is a theme I’m going to be harping on for quite a bit.  Still can’t quite grasp the knowledge that I’m going to have to graduate this year and enter Mundania.  Sob.

God bless the person who dropped HZ101 on Wednesday at approximately 1.32pm.

Full of discouragement from Tuesday’s PHO215 fiasco, I decided not to ninja-attend HZ101 because I’d already emailed the lecturer who’d informed me that he would not be able to make an extra space for me although he would put me on the waitlist, and I thought there was no point going for a class which I probably wouldn’t be able to get in the end anyway.  After emailing Susan Lai (who is the most helpful woman on earth, God bless her too), the HSS English department head, the module coordinator, AND the subject coordinator, all of whom tell me there’s nothing to be done, I was beginning to lose hope.

So instead I lurked on STARS and haunted the system trying my bestest to add a nice-looking module which would 1) fit my schedule, and 2) not be something ridiculous like anything to do with Math or Science.  After a bout of fits and starts whereby I began to plot the demise of the inventor of STARS as well as the best way to burn down the NTU admin office, I finally managed to add HL101, Introduction to Literature, which wasn’t too bad.

I continued staring wistfully at HZ101 and its 0/0 vacancy/waitlist.  Then in a dull throb of hope I refreshed the screen.

GACK! GASP! WHAT IS THAT! HZ101 1/0!!!!!!!!!!

You will NOT believe the adrenalin rush experienced by an NTU student who has just discovered a single empty slot for a much-desired subject that was hitherto packed full.

With trembling fingers I rush to STARS to switch HL101 to HZ101.  Oh damn, what was the subject code for HL101 again?  Cursing myself for my own rush of nervousness I commit the code to memory.  I mistype.  I swear loudly at myself.  I type it in and press enter.  AHHH THEY WILL NOT LET ME SWITCH BETWEEN DIFFERENT SUBJECTS.  I go back to the main menu and click on “drop subject.”  Joy!  The subject is dropped!  I click on “add subject”.  STARS informs me smugly that my time allocation is up and closes itself.  I begin to turn purple in the face.  My heart is racing like a hyperactive squirrel on caffeine.  I tab to the STARS planner and click “add subject”.  STARS planner asks me if I’m sure I want to add HZ101, yes or no?  I click yes.  My eyes are starting to pop out my head from the pressure.

“HZ101 has been added.”

I actually stood up, punched the air and screamed in delight.

Oh, I’m gonna miss being a student.

I once blogged about Chelestiar Kong, who supports Chelsea and likes the sound of Balestier and thus dubbed himself with the appalling name you see above.

Brilliant Xiaxue picked up on this guy probably from the Life! article and made Rozz go out on a blind date with him.

I’m sorry, but it’s terribly funny to see him fail pathetically at the date.  Squirmed in my seat at the cheesy pick-up lines and the look of consternation on his face when told he has to grip Rozz firmly around the waist for the flamenco dance is just hilarious.

Thanks Agagooga for the link, teehee.

Watch Chelestiar Flop!

I’m starting to feel a bit like a dowdy stay-at-home housewife, but more of a housewife than the dowdy part because it really is quite fun to keep house and cook myself large plates of random food (today was three-egg scrambled with onions and ham, with dollops of Miracle whip) and doing laundry and folding clothes yada yada blah blah.  I have such huge stocks of food now it’s a bit mind-boggling to plan daily menus.  Yogurt fruit salad?  Three-mushroom pasta?  Spicy pork noodles?  Sambal udang noodles, with mushroom or cabbage pickles?  Tuna sandwiches, or maybe egg salad sandwiches.  Carrot soup.  Cheesy mushroom toasties.

The list is endless, and I’m going to grow fat.

So…SCHOOL IS STARTING TOMORROW.

The first day of my final semester in university.  The first day of the last four months of my school life.  One day closer to the end of 16 years of education.

Sob.

It’s so difficult to fathom that I’m going to graduate this year.  THIS YEAR.  Oh God, it’s too big to comprehend.  Here I am whimpering with my arms wrapped around my hall table refusing to leave.  It’s a big bad work world out there and I’d much rather be a happy-go-lucky student who can skip a day of lectures if I feel like it.

Time to take the plunge…