Blessed Christmas

Blessed Christmas, everyone. How was your Christmas? I woke up at 3.30pm. Wahaha.

Extreme Whiteboarding

Since I don't have time to blog, I'll just post something special I saw today. Enjoy!

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

My office toilet has no mirror. I noticed it the first day I used the loo. It felt awkward at first--going out without first checking on how you look, but I think I've grown somewhat used to it. But the most curious thing I've observed is this: when I look into the mirror less, I feel younger. Now isn't that interesting?

United & Mosquito Bites

I apologise for not writing. Not that anyone reads what I write here anyway. Oh well, hell.

So I've started a new job. It requires much multi-tasking, as it's a small company and you tend to dip your feet in this and that. Or maybe it's like swimming in a pool of Paddlepop colours. Yes, work's been taking up a lot of my time.

But I did manage to catch United's concert last Friday. It was GREAT!! That sorta upped my spiritual life a bit; the music was great, much better than PS. The buffed-up guitarist has the loveliest clear voice. The bassist was this cool understated dude with a freaking ugly shirt. His bass solo, leading up to Amazing Grace, was da bomb. All in all, it was a nice experience worshipping with the United team. I just wonder if they're gonna stop dressing so emo... the tight jeans and shirt ain't exactly sightly.

Then last weekend, I attended my youth's Core Group Planning Retreat. It's my last year as a Core Superviser, so I still got to attend for free. Muahaha. It was a good break even though I'd only started work recently. Despite the many mosquito bites that continue to plague me with a terrible itch, I've come away from Bukit Tinggi more refreshed and spiritually encouraged. Thanks to all Core Leaders for the fun time! (Not that any of you read my blog anyway.)

Okies... work calls. It leaves me tired and sleepy, but it's work. I'm looking forward to my first pay cheque since too long ago.

Ashamed

Today, for the first time in my life, I felt deeply ashamed of my country. Next year, Malaysia's first astronaut will go into space, where he will 'do what no one in space has done before': play 'batu seremban', spin traditional Malay tops ('gasing'), paint batik motifs and make 'teh tarik'. The cost of sending him to space? RM95 million, compliments of taxpayers who have no control over how their money should and should not be used. The Higher Power argue that we're getting this trip for free, after buying some Russian space shuttle. Right. By now, our politicians should know enough about sweeping 'additional' costs under the carpet and charging an arm and a leg for it.

For a leadership that is elected, there should be accountability to her people. Sadly, there is none whatsoever. It is shocking how stupid (I mean this in the most literal way) many of Malaysia's leaders are, brandishing their racist remarks into the microphone over national TV with keris in hand in the recently concluded UMNO General Assembly. And—the reason for this post—how millions can be wasted on a fantastically irrelevant space stunt. Outsiders are even calling us 'Malaysia Bodoh'. Will this be the reason tourists flock by come Visit Malaysia Year 2007? To laugh firsthand at our looming towers of foolishness and waste?

Wake up, Malaysia's leaders. This is not 1969. In 2006, any Tom, Dick and Harry with US$20 million can book a holiday in space.

Neighbours

Just on the other side of the balcony, not five metres from where I am sitting, the Nepalese neighbours are making kissy sounds. They seem to enjoy drawing attention to themselves. There must be more than twenty of them--all males--living in one four-room double-story house. They work shifts at the nearby printing factory, moving around in intimidating packs. They all wear blue, round-collar shirts.

They also cut each other's hair. That's the only time I feel like laughing at them, because from a potentially 'armed-and-dangerous' male figure, they become obedient children, sitting down at the feet of their appointed hairdresser and waiting patiently till he finishes with the latest fashion. After which, they will proceed to inspect their locks in a mirror. And for some reason, they never fail to do all this outside, either on the balcony or downstairs, in full view of catty neighbours like me.

Now I just need to get a picture.

What's a Killer to Do?

PETALING JAYA, Friday - Ten minutes ago, the life of a promising young cockroach came to an end when it was thumped hard by a spiral notebook and presumed dead while pondering whether to go up, down, left or right of an unassuming pink wall.

It fell and landed in a Canon bubblejet printer. Despite search efforts (turning the printer upside-down and shaking it—so not advisable!), its body could not be found.

Now what's a killer to do? You tell me. But I'll probably need to use the printer... soon.

Learn Engrish with the Zuiikin Gals

Too fat? Too lazy to go gym? It's time for some aerobics with the Zuiikin Gals. By the way, they teach Engrish too.

Friday the 13th

Today, Friday the 13^th, was a surreal day.

Part One

It started in my sleep. Still in a state of confused bio-rhythms, my afternoon dream saw me at a new job with Clara, a colleague from my old ad agency. Since she works for Integricity now, I guess I was working for Integricity too. The building we were in was like an apartment block, located on a hill. We occupied a few rooms on several consecutive floors. I was having conversations with a few people, getting to know the business and all; nothing terribly important. But then, out of the fogginess of my head, I heard my phone ring. Grrrrrr.

"Hellooo…" I groaned.

"Hey Lennie, I need you to edit an article." It was Rachel. "It’s going up today. Can ah?"

"Urrrggrrrrhhh…"

"Oh my God, are you still sleeping?" (It was 4.30pm.)

"Arrrrrrrrhh. Yessssss."

"I sent you a message earlier."

"You know, sleeping people don’t read messages," I mumbled.

"Oh. Nevermind la. So can? Edit ah? Faster! Okay, bye!"

Click. Toot. Toot. Toot. Toot.

In a minute, my dream went poof! But it left an impression. I realised that for today at least, I actually missed working with Clara. She’s super efficient, mind you.

So after dragging my feet out of bed, I went online. In a few minutes, an MSN window popped up.

Clara says:

hey

By golly, it was… Clara! The last time I spoke to her was like ten thousand years ago. So I told her my dream. She was pretty amused. And half an hour later…

Clara says:

clairvoyant siew lian

Clara says:

my colleague just messaged me

Clara says:

he said he got your resume through a friend

Clara says:

for the times when we need a copywriter

Clara says:

so maybe

Clara says:

one day we'll move to a place on a hill

Clara says:

and you'll be with us then

Muahaha. How utterly fascinating!

Part Two

I have been wanting to busk in KLCC’s LRT station for some time now. These past few nights, while my parents are in bed, I’ve been trying to memorise and practise Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Time After Time’. I don’t particularly like it, but it seems to be quite a popular cover song.

I have also been meaning to ask my CG member, Syn Yan, about the buskers at KLCC. She takes the LRT there every working day. Today, since I was fetching her to CG, I finally remembered to ask her about it.

And that’s how I learnt that on this very day, Friday the 13^th, Star Metro featured a story on the buskers. (Which I should go read.) Apparently they earn RM40 to RM50 on average daily. With a little luck, perhaps I can earn more.

But Syn Yan wanted to point out something else.

"I don’t usually read The Star Metro. But for some reason, I read it today. And you asked about the buskers today. What a coincidence!"

This has got to be a sign. Of what, I’m not sure. Maybe that I should go busking soon.

Part Three

We had just finished mamak after CG. The naan and creamy mint sauce had been great. There was a soft, cool breeze blowing, against a purple sky that bore a sore reminder of the haze. Syn Yan and I were nearing the car, when suddenly, something didn’t sound quite right.

That’s when my primordial senses kicked in.

"Shit!!!" I panicked, immediately fleeing the paved walkway.

And indeed, looking up, then down, I saw that dozens of birds in the trees above were dropping runny poo en masse. I don’t know if they were doing it unconsciously while sleeping. But some were squawking and moving about, as the gentle ploop, ploop, ploop, ploop, ploop continued.

It was surreal. To put it bluntly, I’ve never seen so many birds shit at the same time, from so near a distance. The soft, constant sound of bird droppings became hypnotising; possibly comforting even. In a state of semi-consciousness, I could have perched myself somewhere nearby to listen to the rhythm of the falling poo. But no. Thank God, no. Instead, a dilemma quickly popped up. How was I going to get into the car? The ground right in front of it was flushed with bird droppings. I’ve played enough MineSweeper to know that even if you’re careful, you can be bombed at any time.

And that’s when I realised that I was looking at the wrong car. My car, a few steps back, was safely away from the scene of destruction. I heaved a sigh of relief and fascination. This was such a weirdly cool day.

The Loveliest Ice Cube

A few days ago, I chanced upon the loveliest natural ice cube; not the kind you shape with chisels and ice-picks, but the kind you take straight out of the ice box and just as you're about to dunk it in your drink, you gasp and say, whoa... cool...

The Holiest Bug

Just yesterday, after talking to someone about prayer, I saw this praying mantis perched on my parents' room door. Quickly, I grabbed my camera and shooed it into another room, where I snapped its mug. Then it flew away... to the fluorescent light, to be exact. Ugh, I just realised my camera looks even sicker...

Pray without ceasing... 1 Thes. 5:17

Braid Story

It was my first time at William's, and the Chinese mamak owner said I reminded him of someone. "Anakin Skywalker," he said, with a grin. Right. Well William, I don't look like Anakin no more. The hair braid Wern expertly tied on my head, and which stayed there faithfully from mid July, is now gone. I took it down i.e. cut it a few weeks ago. As you can see from the pics, it was growing pretty long!


All in all, my hair grew about 3 inches in 3 months. (The braid started off with about a one-inch gap from the scalp.) I think the part pulled by the braid grew faster too cos of the additional weight, but that's just my theory.

At final count... 4+ inches of hair!

The most common question encountered was, "How do you wash your hair?" Haiyah, simple lah, you just wash it like normal and make sure you don't pull at the ends.

Well, it was fun and cool having a braid while it lasted. I thought I would have it on for longer but my hair obviously outgrew my ambitions. Thanks a bunch, Wern. You rock, and so does your hair braid!

Blog about it

Chronicles of Oz (Part 2)

Brisbane
(The writer apologises for not regaling you with tales of adventure and misadventure from Brisbane earlier. But it's been two months since those events took place, so she figures it's too late now anyway. So here you go... more pictures, with some brief descriptions. Hope you don't mind.)

The highlights of Brisbane were:
* Staying with Uncle Bill and Aunty Joni—Wern's aunt's sister—and their household of two Taiwanese and one Japanese exchange students
* Waking up REALLY early...like 7am every day
* Riding the Superman Escape in Movie World, which goes from 0-100km in 2 seconds
* Walking, walking, walking
* More walking in national parks, kangaroo reserves, forest reserves, weekend markets
* Having a kookaburra steal a barbecued sausage from out of my hand
* Petting koalas and feeding kangaroos at the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary
* Trying out kayaking, at the lake at the back of Aunty Joni's house
* Seeing a singer-songwriter do a really cool cover of Big Yellow Taxi at the Eumundi weekend market
* Spotting koalas, dolphins, hares, wild birds in the wild
* Uncle Bill's crazy, bounding Labrador, 'Hamish'
* Visiting the Brisbane Powerhouse (nothing much but interesting 'feel') and Brisbane Museum
* Lots of sunshine and balmy weather

Brisbane was so much fun. It really was.

Lazy koala at the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary

Awww...this wallaby has his tail between his legs

Aunty Joni gets grossed out by a greedy, slobbering kangaroo. Notice its bigger feet and um, clawed hands?

Sheep are pretty stupid. Luckily they're cute

Feeding a wallaby, which slobbers less compared to a kangaroo

Uncle Bill at Noosa Heads National Park. Being a 6+-footer, he left us wayyyyy behind

Some bird poised on a tree on a bright winter's day

Some hive stuck on a tree. I don't wanna know what's inside

Standing on the edge of this cliff was freaky. A mis-step, and I'd be gull-feed. My knees actually felt wobbly

Somewhere, E.T. is listening in to all the crappy radio music

Can you spot the moon in this pic?

The Brisbane sun's superb when you need self-portraits

(Lame description here)

All Brisbane's electricity boxes are painted by different artists

This one here's in Chinatown... a rather seedy part of town

The Great Superman Escape. Super fun. Rode it twice. Guaranteed to make you feel years younger. :)

Girls' Day

The girls reigned supreme today. The guys had futsal in the morning. Period. The girls had a muscle toning session (while polishing the floor with their butts--how multitaskingly efficient!), a manicure lesson (buff or colour?), and a juicy juicing session with celery and green apples. Grrrrls rule! Grrrr!

So here are some of my favourite pictures from the event. My camera's getting a bit screwed though (Grrr!). Looks like something's wrong with the optical unit--the same problem happened before and I had to change the whole thing. Cost me over a hundred bucks, and the camera was *just* over a year old. If it doesn't deteriorate any further, I guess I can still live with it... If you notice, there's a faint dark line on the top/left side of the pictures. Hope it doesn't get worse.

I forget whose nails these are. Any takers?

Hey! You missed a spot!

I know whose feet these are... smelly smelly

Bonding

So. I've been jobless since... I don't remember since when. Life has taken on an other-worldly appearance, mainly illuminated by fluorescent lights and a flickering computer monitor. My days begin at 3pm and end at 6am, when the azan five houses down my road starts blasting. Plus or minus an hour, depending on whether I'm having a cool, weird dream or can't sleep because the noisy neighbours are waking up.

One of the main benefits of staying at home is that I've been 'bonding' with my parents. Not a lot, but at least it's a positive start. My family's the traditional kind and we don't talk about stuff. Especially, stuff. You know what I mean. So the little that we share in the open is appreciated. Those from close-knit families might not understand, but those who can't remember their father ever hugging them probably would.

That's all I'll say for now. Maybe being tight-lipped runs in the family.

Poor Lump

My pet went to the vet today. He didn't have a very good experience. Here's what I want to say to him, but I can't speak in Rabbit language.

I'm so sorry, Lump, I couldn't afford to bring you to that posh Yeoh Vet in Taman Megah even though I wanted to. You already get quite a shitty deal being my pet. I'm sorry that I did not listen to my intuition when we approached this Sea Park vet, where you had that enema pushed up your private parts the first time. I did not like the vet, who didn't seem to know what to do or how to handle rabbits. But I know the previous treatment kinda worked and you pulled through, so against my better judgment, that's why you were there again today.

I'm angry at myself for not saying anything when that stupid young vet pulled you out of the carrier by your ears. It must have hurt helluva lot. I've read that humans are never, ever supposed to carry rabbits by their ears because ears are sensitive. Maybe this bugger learnt something else in vet school, but to fault him publicly might have meant more abuse and rough treatment for you behind closed doors. I only hoped you'd prove yourself one tough rabbit.

Ten minutes back home, and still you don't want to leave your carrier. I guess in whatever rabbit understanding you have, you think you can't trust us. Us, your owners, and us, humans. I'm sorry all this happened.

I hope you don't have a long memory and this traumatising experience will be forgotten soon. Today just wasn't a good day on your rabbit calendar. Now please, please poo properly, try not to get it stuck onto your fur, and stop eating the paint off the walls. I love you, but you really need to change your diet.

Take care, Lump. I'll try to get you a garden to run in soon.

xoxo,
Me... you know, the owner of the legs you like to run around

Choke... Splutter... Cough

For one week, I have been coughing my lungs out. Clearing the throat is also a tedious process, especially when you're trying to spit out/swallow/dislodge that stubborn bit of phlegm stuck somewhere along your neck. Each a-heck! a-heck! brings terrible images of carnage on your vocal cords; your voice grates and you can't even sing in peace in the bathroom. Breathing has been reduced to shallow gasps of air—a generous dose of oxygen sets off another series of hacking coughs.

The only good thing was that each time I coughed, I literally could feel the muscles in my upper abs getting a workout. Maybe the meds made me delusional, but I do think they felt firmer too. Of course, this observation excited me to no end, causing me to breathe more hurriedly, and yes, cough more.

So it's with mixed feelings that I say, I think I'm getting better now. And since bumming around, damn, that evil flab is making a comeback in record time.

The Bummer

Hi everyone. It was my last day at work yesterday and today, I'm officially a bummer. Watched Million Dollar Baby (on my comp) and cried. Then I continued to sit in front of the computer all day. At home. This life sucks. I need to get a job.

Chronicles of Oz (Part 1)

To begin our journey, we need a map.
Ta-da! We're ready to go.

So I flew from KL to Singapore to Melbourne in the middle of June. I landed smack into winter.

Melbourne
In Melbourne, I shopped, ate a lot of Subway, and shopped some more. We visited parks, malls, the Melbourne Zoo, Monash Clayton campus, Smith St factory outlets, St Kilda, a couple of other things and as I mentioned before, a cemetery. After a week, we journeyed to the Great Ocean Road with some OCF-ers. I saw a waterfall, a sunset, a couple of famous Apostles, then headed back.

The (not quite) 12 Apostles

Sydney
From Melbourne, we flew to Sydney. It cost us AUD$69 (+$2 credit card surcharge) each.

Sydney was heaven for my tastebuds and hell for my liver. My uncle (our host), also turned water into wine. I love miracle-workers.

Uncle and Wern, Middlehead

Canberra
From Sydney, we headed to Canberra by Murrays coach, which took 3.5 hours. There, we met up with my ex-housemate Jane and were introduced to her RAF (Royal Airforce) boyfriend Scott. We visited my old uni, the University of Canberra, which looked more rundown than before, then took a walk to Lake Ginninderra, which looked so peaceful in winter. Next, we visited my other ex-housemate Jess. After some dreadfully missed jamming with Jess, who's now got a totally cool DIY studio set up at her place, we headed to the Australian War Memorial. It was almost closing time. Wern almost cried. But after 30 minutes of speed-reading whatever exhibit she could cover, Wern said it was the best touristy place she'd been to in Australia, and that she could have spent the whole day there. At least we managed to catch 'the lone pied piper'. Then we went up to the Mt Ainslie lookout, which almost froze our ears, noses and butts off. For dinner, we stuffed ourselves at Zeffirelli's, then forced a 'concrete' (frozen custard) down. I am such a pig.

Red poppies beside the dead, Australian War Memorial

A Road Trip!
We have another map! How efficient!

Road trip around Southern Highlands

After dinner, Jane drove us back to her place in Mittagong, a small town in the Southern Highlands, somewhere in New South Wales. We spent the night in this lovely, lovely Australian countryhouse; absolutely gorgeous. It belongs to an ex-teacher whose husband has passed on, and whose children are all grown-up now, living someplace else. The lady, Virginia, decided to build a place 'for herself', with the first floor reserved for guests. Everything was colour-coordinated. We were more than impressed; we felt like royalty.

Ducks at home, Mittagong

Janey in her element, Mittagong

The next morning, we visited Berrima, a quaint town where we spent a small fortune on honey, tea and jams, and Bowral, famous for Sir Bradman's Oval (named after an Australian cricketeer legend). Then Jane drove us to the Liverpool station in NSW. We took a train back to Sydney.

Spotted pig spotted in Berrima

( |o }===:::

I am tired now. My Brisbane adventures will have to wait.

Congratulations!

The winner of the 'Guess what picture this is' contest is Jon Chew. Congratulations! Jon has been awarded with a Tim Tam for his effort, courtesy of Qantas Airlines. His answer wasn't completely correct, but hey, I'm on a diet.

Hungry

It's been a while since I've hungered after God. Activities have taken precedence; the demands of my job and the transitions I'm going through have distracted me from the real business of my life. Isn't that what most people say anyway? I'm beginning to think that busyness is really just an excuse the church has come to accept as a valid temporary reason. We hide behind this excuse when in actual fact we've been plain lazy, distracted or doing things and thinking thoughts we know we shouldn't have. In other words, we're in hiding.

Confrontations with God i.e. Dealing with Sin sucks because you're always wrong. Who likes being wrong all the time? Thus we postpone our appointment, our hearing in court to a later date. Sometimes we wait till we feel really guilty and convicted, so that we know we meant saying sorry. It's harder when this brokenness takes ages to come.

Hungry
By Kathryn Scott

Hungry, I come to You for I know You satisfy
I am empty, but I know Your love does not run dry
And so I wait for You, so I wait for You

I'm falling on my knees
Offering all of me
Jesus You're all this heart is living for

Broken, I run to You for Your arms are open wide
I am weary, but I know Your touch restores my life
And so I wait for You, so I wait for You

Memories of My Memory

It's been one week since my return from Australia. I have been sorely missed by the heat and the haze, both of which seem intent on smothering me to death with their fiery kisses. One week is also the ideal incubation period for social readjustment, and for recent experiences to settle in.

As I age, I have wisened up to the sad fact that my memory is not what it used to be. Or maybe I'm not trying hard enough. You see, I believe that the more emotionally involved you are in an experience, the higher your recall of it. Hence, the general failings of my memory may suggest that I have been a self-centred, bored prick all my life with a superficial sense of the present, thus resulting in a past that 'just happened'.

Even if I am proved wrong, time messes up the facts anyway. For instance, I remember being a smart and skinny kid, but if I were really that smart, I'd also probably be rich now... and still skinny. Hmm...

It is for these reasons—and alas, just in case I run out of happy thoughts in the future—that I have decided to devote some time and energy into journalling about my trip to Australia, which was a blast and would be a total shame to forget. And because I write at about one word per minute, plus minus a few seconds, most of the adventure will be rehashed in pictures.

(Ha! 246 words and it's 12.37pm now. That's quadruple my usual speed! What progress.)

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's...

Today, I was attacked by a kookaburra.

There I was, enjoying a wonderfully tender sausage at the Noosa Heads National Park in Queensland when suddenly, whoosh! a flash of white and grey swooped down, flapped for a microsecond in my face, then was gone. A second later, I realised that the kookaburra hanging about our picnic area had stolen the sausage from right out of my fingers! Crafty little bugger. Luckily, he was very accurate and I was not injured.

It also gave me an excuse to have another sausage, which I gulped down in a hurry.

Art & Beer

Riding the day train in Melbourne reveals a segment of restless people even more reckless with the spray can. Looking out the window, graffiti covers almost every piece of concrete that borders the train tracks from suburbia into the city. Most of it is just plain ugly, though some decorations do look decent enough at 60mph.

Here are some snapshots of cheap, public art I like. The first is part of a mural at Monash University Clayton, dedicated to two Asian chaps who were shot dead in class (how sucky is that?). The next two are an appreciation of a wooden chair outside one of the Monash libraries, with a very retro-cool VB (Victoria Bitter) bottle sprayed on it. The last two were taken at some back alley and are dedicated to Rachel. Now stop asking me to walk around SS15 with a camera, aimed at every random spray-on, okay?

Is peace only a concept that looks good on paper and walls?

Victoria is Bitter over her brew

Headless chick

Unarmed chick

Freeloaders

I am watching a company of black ants exploring a white wall. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. There are seven black ants wandering aimlessly on a white wall. I wonder why they don't just form a bloody trail. Are they lost? Low on pheromones? Two meet, then disperse again. More stragglers examine the table's terrain.

Even though the days are short, I haven't been doing much. Winter doesn't embrace strangers like a friend. It's too selective. I am of tropical blood, raised on a bed of sunshine and created to flourish in warm weather. I want to go out, to make use of the limited warmth that winter allows in, but I have been indoors all day. I am not in Australia to be indoors all day.

I don't feel like a tourist, yet I don't feel like a native either. I just feel like a returning overseas student, and I'm not sure if I like the feeling very much. Tourist spots don't really excite me because I've seen them before (those I've seen anyway). Staying at home seems a waste of money. I didn't come all the way here to stay at home all day. Going out feels like a better option, because I'm here for a limited time only, but I don't know where to go.

Then again, I can't go out every single day. I sometimes wish I were born richer; that I could buy anything I wanted to under the sun, but no. Reality says one Aussie dollar is RM2.745, and that I am relatively poor. Already, I am/will be freeloading off my pal and her housemates, my uncle and her aunt. Some days you go out, some days you stay in. Accept that.

I am watching a black ant carry some food off to its home. Darn you, freeloader! Get your own room and food!

I think I almost understand what it's like to be an ant now.

Dead Spaces

Today, Wern wanted to visit the graveyard. According to her, graveyards in Malaysia are full of lalang and mosquitoes, whereas those in Australia are well-kept and... beautiful? So we (rather, she) planned it into our journey, which eventually included Monash University, (a wrong park), (some wrong roads), Carlton Gardens, (only the foyer of) the Melbourne Museum, Melbourne Central, Don Don - a Japanese diner, numerous tram, train and bus rides (a few of which were 'wrong' or at least miscalculated), lots of walking, and finally, Melbourne General Cemetery.

By the time we reached the cemetery, which is huge probably because it is so general, the clock showed half past four. The overcast sky and cold weather hung like sackcloth worn in mourning, as we surveyed acres and acres of graves before us. Crosses, statues, flowers, names, dates, tombstones repeated en masse. No living person was in sight. This was a rather scary thought, as a sign informed us that the gates would close at 5pm.

No one knew we were in there.

We could be accidentally (or purposely; we shan't assume) locked up inside.

We'd be spending the night with dead bodies.

Zombies.

Spirits.

Ghosts.

Hantu.

In freaking 5 degrees Celcius.

Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' video was already looping in my head.

Wanting to leave no stone unturned, we said a quick prayer and made a dash for it. A dash inside, I mean.

We didn't stray too far from the tarred path or venture beyond a two-minute sprint to the exit. I took pictures like a nosy tourist while Wern turned sober like a proper human being with a good measure of respect for the dead. There were graves dating back to the 19th century. Most graves were nondescript; some were elaborate and gaudy; a few graves looked broken into. Wives joined husbands; children joined parents in their mortality. Jewish graves were sectioned together, much like how they remain an exclusive nation and people still.

Six feet beneath us lay thousands of bodies at various levels of decomposition. These people once led very different lives and meant different things to different people. Yet no one escaped death. Difference became neutralised by a common destiny.

We could have gone on the black narrow road for longer. But after 15 minutes, Wern began to hurry me home. Haha! Coward! I said. But I packed my camera, and we left.

Living Spaces

This is where I'm currently staying in Melbourne. It's a townhouse near the Monash Clayton campus; quiet and pretty cold. The people are nice though. If you're bored enough, you could try to guess the architecture of the house. All-correct answer gets a Tim Tam.

I. Have. Arrived

I have arrived. The journey was boring but I learnt:

i) How to pull out the TV screen when there's no seat in front of you - this, not without some embarrassment
ii) How to pull out the food tray on a Qantas plane when there is no seat in front of you

There were so many movies I wanted to watch but I only managed to catch two (Joyeux Noel and Transamerica). After that my ears hurt from the pariah earbuds and mild nausea was beginning to set in. It also wasn't very fun squinting into a five-inch screen amid failing light.

Here are some pictures from the KL-Singapore leg. Boy, they're so interesting!

A window seat

Wing, not drumstick