Vday Cliche

I try as much as possible to avoid speaking/writing cliches, and detest participating in any form of an event which I deem has been 'cliched'. So, as Vday approaches, I know for sure I would not be spending an evening in precocious heels, grasping a sturdy hand, and squeezing with other couples into a restaurant of sorts (all thanks to Cupid's misaims). But! In the name of friendship, I shall allow myself to slip into the cliche of Chocolate and Soft Toy proliferation.

At this juncture, I am hoping to add more pictures of the Soft Toys and the chocolates which Sarah, Germaine and I received from Carrey. However, the 'IE has stopped working' box stands in the way each time, and I have absolutely given up!

An almost Clean Sheet

So I was scheduled for another look at the red scar on the left rib, and Mom, knowing that such a visit would entail fishing out a NETs card of sorts, decided to tag along to do the fishing on my behalf. Yay.

We waited 2 whole hours before a doctor (and houseman!) saw me for less than a minute, during which I was ushered to a corner of the room and a curtain pulled around it for some dignity, and the doctor exclaimed in pleasant surprise, 'Wow it looks good!' - when she saw how I was actually healing faster than expected.

After which, there was some brief convo about the lipoma. I would really have wanted to take it back, just as some people keep their gall stones, though in my case I would have kept the semi solid tumour in a ziploc of sorts and squeeze it like a play dough all day. Alas! Those white lab coat dorning, overworked muggers had thrown a part of my body away, though nonetheless after dissecting it precariously, examining it, and disposing it such that it should not contaminate anyone or anything.

And we left the consultation room only with the bill in hand.

Ok, so now i've been given the go ahead to swim, but not to lift weights. Hence, it'd be a considerable lapse of time before I achieve this feat:




It is easy to do it! (I mean, didn't he make it look that way?)

Food served on food

As the world of Science turns its head in the direction of 'food for (fill in the brackets with anything that Man needs e.g. fuel)', here comes food for serving food:

'100% Biodegradable @ Microwaveable'

'Olive Green Marketing'

(get this!) 'Made from Corn and Yam'

'Environmentally Friendly'

Why don't they just make edible bowls?

Seat Potato

The butchering has rendered me a seat potato. 'No gym, no jogging, (hell!) no swimming! You would not want to reopen the stitches!'

And I can literally feel myself ballooning (blame it also on my mule-style stubornness to continue eating as if I could regularly move beyond a walking pace).

To add to the torture of feeling like lard: Both the pool and the gym are visible from my balcony. I can read their minds. The water is dying to swallow more latex-clad people and the treadmill needs to be pounded by the girl with ガゼット screaming in her ears.

Truth is, the 3cm red curve around my left rib can now be touched without sending out bolts of pain. I no longer walk in the 'totally paralysed on the left' (quote El) style, and I can bend double! So, since I would not be slamming my back hard against anything (remember, no group sports)or lying on my right side (I'd be running) at all, why are my legs still not going anywhere beyond regular paced strutting?

Unexpected finds

Its amazing how I can travel to a certain place 5 days a week and yet not notice it at all. I usually walk through Boon Lay MRT station So it has come to my recent attention that looking down the holes on the train platform actually yields rather pretty sights. Like, a technicoloured patchwork of bicycles:

Maybe I should forget to bring my headsets again.

It has also occured to me that I only hasten to remind myself never to fall into the clutches of emohood only at the point when I am already within its grasps. Now, if you don't want to get hurt, get away from the clawed scrawny hands protruding from the cloak of the Emo. Yes, I think that Emo, personified, is essentially the Reaper. And today i fell into its grasps for a moment, after the supermarket woes.

Miss テッサキュウ, you must achieve more than this, in more ways than one!

And for a start, off I go to the kitchen.

Cooking up a storm as hot as this.

And the worries flood in...

5 days have passed since the butchering, yet I still find myself grimacing whenever I lean back on anything. I anticipate that the pain is not going to dissipate even after the maroon line across my back dissolves to a brown scar, but would merely transfer to my right shoulder, the poor thing which has soldiered most of my body weight of 5 consecutive nights.

But its a happy pain. I have been a happy recipient of many demonstrations of love, starting from my family's very considerate ways, Sarah's get-well-soon cupcakes, Chee Seng's ecard, just to name a few. This is a bittersweet experience. The best of its kind.

Ah, getting back into the full swing of work entails a flood of worries. Readings, assignments, revision, tests, projects. My school mailbox has yet to receive any news from the IRO. I can only hope that this selection programme does not go the same way university admission does i.e. rejection letters are decided the earliest, given out the latest.

All this pain calls for a sleeping buddy.

Back on the Run

I'll be back to my usual routine from tomorrow onwards. Thank God for these 4 days of rest (read: slacking), but now that my furtive glances to the right (at the computer clock) also allow me to catch glimpses of my stack of school books, I am inadvertently reminded that time is running out. Time for what? Let's devide 'what' into 2 phases : The short term - assignments, readings. The Long Term - Family, Friends, Health, God (Oh God!), Vocation (damn. Scholarship please!)

And I've added another goal to my concurrent list. This time, its about managing my finances better. Budget each meal, for health reasons as well. Throw some into the mandatory forced savings scheme (otherwise known as C..)? Why not. It'd be good to have some dough for a house, paying Dad back for my 4 years in NTU, and just in case I develop some lipomas again (oh god forbid.)

Oh, the night draws to a close and the world slips into the hands of dawn. How about a sleeping buddy?
Heck felines, I want a male sleeping buddy too!