I’m off to Europe for the first time in my life. Be back on 1 November. Till then, it’ll just be a camera, my Moleskine, a couple of black pens and me. Can’t wait.
Posts from ‘October, 2008’
Jessie wants to be a vet
My youngest sister Jessie is currently studying in Melbourne to become a vet. She’s loved animals for as long as I can remember, even though she doesn’t seem to have much luck with them.
Since beginning her course, part of which involves placement work in farms, she’s fallen off a horse, been kicked by another and attacked by chickens or some such.
But it’s not all hard work. She’s also milked a cow – “You attach a machine and it milks the cow for you”; and castrated sheep – “You put these rings around [their balls] and they just fall off, hahaha!”
Anyway, she recently did a stint at a horse farm out in the countryside and she sent me these pictures. I’m not a big animal person, least of all when it comes to horses, but even I had to admit these creatures were beautiful.
According to her, the top one is called Schloss and the brown one with the gorgeous coat is called Bravo.
Jessie also recently got started on her 100 list and I was surprised to find many of her items matched mine. People always tell me how different me and my sisters are, and I guess I never really thought about what we have in common. She’s coming back to KL in December and I’m really excited to see her again. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I kinda miss her.
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This is how I contribute to the conversation
The boys and I are having supper at McDonald’s one night.
A: Watching Friday Night Lights makes me want to play American football.
B: Ya, I know what you mean. Watching 30 Rock makes me want to work on a TV show too.
Me: Watching Lipstick Jungle makes me want to go shopping!
Silence.
B: Watching porn makes me want to have sex?
Okay, fine.
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Rainbows amid the rain
MA called just as I was leaving the office to say she could see one, but it wasn’t until I was a couple of kilometres en route that I finally saw it. I was so excited I took a picture with my mobile phone while moving along slowly, trying to hold my hand steady, capture the shot and pay attention to the car in front of me at the same time. Getting into a car accident beneath a rainbow would have been too miserable for words.
Then I got home and saw this. Right on my street. I took another picture from the middle of the road, ignoring the big, smelly garbage truck that was slowly making its way through. Rainbows, like crystal oceans, beautiful sands and majestic mountains, always make me look to the skies – something I don’t do nearly as often as I should.
Nature simply has a way of bringing my heart to its knees.
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See why I run
I got on the treadmill today, over a month since my last workout. I did 5km and gave up, more out of boredom than exhaustion. Running does not come naturally to me, and in my weak moments, I wonder why I ever wanted to attempt, in a respectable time, a 10km in the first place.
Today, I noted less than two months before race day in December and for a brief flicker, thought of just showing up and “winging it”. I’m fairly certain the adrenaline of the occasion mixed with the determination not to fail embarrassingly before thousands will be enough to propel me across the finish line; the question is how long it will take.
Then I gave myself a mental smack. Because “winging it” is not why I paid money that could just as well have been spent on clothes and shoes. Since packing up a good third of my wardrobe for charity last weekend I’ve been feeling rather forlorn in the clothing department. “Winging it” is not, should not ever be, my policy. Unless it comes to subjects like math, physics and history, the last of which I am ironically rather appreciating these days.
I signed up because I wanted to experience a foot race. Because I wanted to train with a goal in mind. Because I wanted to give my best in a physical endeavour and push myself as far – and fast – as I can bear to. I did not sign up to “wing it”. I signed up because I have always admired runners and I want to pretend, just for a morning, that I can be one of them. I did it because I was kind of hoping it would force me to develop some semblance of endurance.
Today, as I obediently, repeatedly, put one foot in front of the other and kept telling myself to focus on watching August Rush, I reminded myself of all the reasons why I am going to do this 10km run in December. And I reminded myself that I should never give less than my best. It was the first time I’d run with my new shoes and boy do I have a lot of work to do.
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Reviews en masse
One-liners on some of the movies and television serials I’ve been keeping busy with:
The House Bunny
Anna Faris shows off super-skinny body every chance she gets; better than I expected thanks to the script.
Friday Night Lights Season 1
So good I can’t help getting hooked every time Y watches even though he’s way ahead of me and I’m watching it all out of order.
Lipstick Jungle Season 1
A pleasant surprise and new addition to my favourites. Recommended.
The Bucket List
Watch it just for Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson.
Thank You For Smoking
Aaron Eckhart proves he’s worthy of the major leagues; love the script.
We Own The Night
Unfortunately, a little flat. Expected more especially considering it’s Joaquin Phoenix and Mark Wahlberg.
Michael Clayton
A good film and it’s not just because I love George Clooney.
True Blood Season 1
Vampires and Southern twangs – struggled through one episode, won’t be going back for another.
Fringe Season 1
Joshua Jackson returns to TV in this sci-fi series that reminds me of X-Files. Couldn’t really get into it, though.
The Mentalist Season 1
Another crime drama, only with a cute (and super smart) lead actor. A fun watch.
Californication Season 2
David Duchovny is brilliant – Agent Fox who? Great writing.
Max Payne
You’d think an action flick with guns and swords and freaky winged creatures would be faster-paced than this.
Still sitting by my telly:
Rails & Ties, The Thin Red Line, No Country For Old Men, August Rush, Get Smart, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, House Season 4, Friday Night Lights Season 2, The Assassination of Jesse James, The Happening.
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Privacy, please
Someone asked me for a copy of my CV for reference a couple of days ago. In my eagerness to help out as soon and as best I could, I searched out mine and Y’s CVs (because I thought his might be better) and sent them right over. How did I find Y’s? Well, I found it the same way I did mine – through Gmail. His Gmail.
I’m usually fairly careful about not invading Y’s privacy even though we are married and all, but whether I was keen to, like I said, help out as soon as possible or simply forgot in the heat of the moment, I didn’t tell Y that I was logging on to his Gmail, searching out his CV and forwarding it on.
I knew he wouldn’t mind sharing with this person, and I guess I subconsciously figured it was okay. Anyway, I didn’t/forgot to tell him. Until this person thanked Y for it and he got all confused. And then he asked me. And then I realised.
Oops.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.
We’ve had this discussion with other married friends before. Is it okay for married couples to go into each other’s emails? I generally go through all Y’s physical mail because he doesn’t open anything and I take care of the bills, usually what they all are anyway. But email seems different somehow. More… private, as opposed to even SMSes which he has me check for him when the phone is out of reach and he’s too lazy to get up.
In fact, up until this year, I didn’t even know what his email password was. The only reason I finally knew was because I came up with the new one.
We have married friends who share email addresses and we have friends who access each other’s emails. Y isn’t for reading each other’s emails and actually, neither am I. Not for poking around purposes, anyway. But should spouses be given access? At what point does it become an invasion of privacy, even for married couples? Or, as some people might argue, is there no such thing?
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The day I rediscovered how to drive manual
For the first time since I passed my driving test nine years ago, I drove a manual car farther than a couple of kilometres.
I was lounging in bed watching a DVD when a call came asking if I wanted to meet up with friends for a drink. I said yes, rolled out of bed and got as far as my living room before I realised hubby had taken the automatic car I normally drive to work. It was either take his manual hatchback or go back upstairs and beg off my coffee date.
I chose to brave the manual car. The worst that could happen, I reasoned, is I would have to continually restart my car while navigating the ramps of the shopping centre carpark and real drivers honked impatiently, swore at me and made rude comments about female drivers. It wouldn’t be that big a deal, just very embarrassing.
I called hubby from the car before I set off. I swear my heart rate was going through the roof. His advice was, “Drive slowly.” Well, he needn’t have worried about that. I wasn’t even planning to take it above fourth gear. Besides, I told myself for added incentive, learning to drive a manual car confidently is one of my 100 things to do.
I made it safely to the shopping centre. Even parked the car without incident. And nobody honked, not once. I stalled briefly at a junction, but I’m writing that off as an “it could happen to anyone”. Even hubby has stalled before.
My heart rate started going up again as we got ready to leave after coffee. I could feel the nervousness invading, hear the inner pep talk playing itself out in my head. It worked because I felt more confident. Until I tried to start the car, and the key just wouldn’t turn in the ignition.
I tried several times, then tried not to panic as I called hubby.
“I can’t turn the key in the ignition,” I was talking really quickly because I’d already paid for my parking and I had to be out of there in 15 minutes.
“That’s because the steering wheel is locked. Turn the wheel.”
“I can’t.”
“Just turn the wheel and try again.”
“I still can’t turn the key. Do I have to do both at the same time?”
You should have seen me trying to hold my phone, turn the steering wheel and turn the key all at the same time. Why is the steering wheel locked anyway? What does that even mean? But I did it. Somehow. And I was out of there in 5 minutes, home in 15.
It wasn’t until I was halfway home that I finally began to relax and enjoy myself. I started getting the hang of it – I’ve always liked changing gears. I began to feel really confident. I even – gasp! – wished home was farther so I could drive for longer. I made it back safe and sound, and spent the evening telling everybody who would listen that I could now drive manual.
So am I ticking this off my 100 list? Well, not just yet. It’s going to take a few more trips before I convince myself I’m fully competent. And then I’ll take the ultimate test: I’ll drive the car to work.
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To wear or not to wear?
I was putting on a pair of jeans to go out for dinner earlier when Y commented, “I don’t like that pair of jeans.”
It was the second time in a week that we’d disagreed on an item of clothing. On Wednesday, I’d wanted to buy a necklace but Y hadn’t liked that one either. It was one of those long ones with a variety of charms at the end of it, but Y said it reminded him of an office lanyard, one of those with keys, thumb drive and name tag attached.
I know this is totally unfeminist of me and goes against everything I like to think I believe about women not seeking their validation from men, but I changed out of my jeans and I didn’t buy that necklace. As much as I sometimes struggle with it (should I really care what he thinks?), what Y thinks is important to me.
He doesn’t tell me not to buy something or not to wear something, but I know there’s a good chance I won’t wear something if he doesn’t like it – unless I’m not going out with him and I really, really like that something. I want him to think I look nice.
Someone once asked me would I get upset if my husband told me he didn’t like what I wearing. I said no, my husband already does that; besides, I’d much rather Y was honest with me at all times. He seemed really surprised. So apparently, other men don’t get to disagree with what their womenfolk wear. But I’m still thinking about getting one of those necklaces.
Would you:
a) Get upset if your boyfriend/husband didn’t like what you were wearing and told you so?
b) Buy something you know your boyfriend/husband doesn’t like?
c) Get upset if your boyfriend/husband said you looked fat?
d) Tell your girlfriend/wife that she looked fat or that you don’t like what she’s wearing?
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A chance to try something new
I am seriously thinking about applying for the script writing course here. It’s going to require lots of (unpaid) leave, but it’s a great opportunity that I may never have again. A little exposure and meeting new people can only do me good. Plus, the fact that I’m talking about it in my sleep must be some sort of sign, right?
