Selamat Hari Raya, Hari Kebangsaan, and Selamatkan Saya

If firecrackers are synonymous with Chinese New Year 20 years back, that startling but familiar boom now announces the start of Hari Raya and even Deepavali (in October; chapati and briyani!). Once again, technology has [nearly] replaced the conventional telephone (you know, those land line phones) calls and greeting cards.

Ketupat (Source: stock.xchng; boy am I glad I found ketupat on a stock photos site)

So, being the progressive person that I am (ahem!), I'm one of those people sending my wishes via SMS and on Facebook. I shall not repeat myself here and I don't think I want to either.

After 54 years, I honestly wish we can do better compared to our ASEAN neighbours. Many know the laughable yardstick used by the government to gauge how "well" the economy's performing. *winks*

Sometimes it's true that "absurdity rules Malaysia" and we have a handful of leaders to thank for that. Still, I look to sporting events and those public gatherings (read BERSIH rally) to see a homogenous Malaysia. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: that true harmony among the people cannot be seen on TV. I'm blessed to live everyday with these bunch of fantastic people.

When mcDonald's gets too costly, there's always Ramly burger at half the price and, depending on individuals, twice the enjoyment. Fries and Coke not included.

It is them that I think of whenever some bigots threatened to shed blood or to make BBQ. I recall the always-mirthful meals at Sungai Nibong and Hammer Bay when I'm asked to eff off (excuse me) to where I came from.

"I can't possibly go back to my mother's womb, can I?"

Fact is, this ain't a bad place to live in. Although we've had tremors and felt the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami, nobody fears a drive-by shooting whilst sipping teh tarik at the mamak stall. As far as I know, nobody scoffs at me when I dined at the warung or when I ordered burgers outside 7-Eleven.

Was I being naive? A utopian idealist hoping against hope? I sure hope not.

Rendang, need I say more?

Now after wishing everyone Selamat Hari Raya and Selamat menyambut Hari Kebangsaan, I wonder who's going to selamatkan(save) me from deadlines and a big load of stuff to type. The only thing that motivates me is the Raya open house cum Mooncake Festival cum birthday celebration this Saturday. The wound in my mouth healed nicely and I can't wait to have ketupat and rendang.

Where can I get my hands on some sparklers?

 

Cheers and Tears

Preparations are underway for National Day as well as Hari Raya and Facebook is abuzz with updates by those on their way home. And non-Muslims join in the gaiety by posting wishes and tagging their Muslim friends.

On the other extreme, we learn of road deaths [and other mishaps] in the news and the newspaper.

The past few days have been wet and chilly with a brief period of sunshine. Still, I find it quite uncomfortable even if rainy days are great for slumber; its getting really moist in my room.

If anyone (me) thinks this small inconvenience is a pain, then wait till a hurricane touchdown. I'm sure most are familiar with Irene and the situation in the US East Coast (I prefer the alternate term Eastern Seaboard).

There you go, a pathetic attempt juxtapose the extremes. Imagine if we could take each person from both sides and cause them to switch places, I'm sure both would be really thankful. Since we can't do that, well, at least not putting people into a disaster-ravaged area, we can only encourage and help those who complain to see that "others had it worse".

Still, I fully understand the difference between saying something and then doing it. As long as it'll take, it's still possible. Gotta have faith, no? And a well-placed one too. That's when we know for certain that the light at the end of the tunnel isn't "a speeding train headed our way".

Let's rest on these:

What Faith Can Do - Kutless

Everybody falls sometimes

Gotta find the strength to rise

From the ashes and make a new beginning

Anyone can feel the ache

You think it’s more than you can take

But you're stronger, stronger than you know

Don’t you give up now

The sun will soon be shining

You gotta face the clouds

To find the silver lining
:

 

Clammy No More

Oh yeah! The sun has decided to step away from the thick clouds and warm things up here on the ground. Two of the five garlic cloves that I buried last week have also decided its time to breach topsoil. And no, I did not arrange nor wait for all these to happen so I can type something here.

Ah, I love this! (Source: stock.xchng)

I'm not in the mood to do a lot of thinking (need some time to warm up, heheh!) so I opened up Notepad and glanced through the points I would like to include in the acknowledgement section of my thesis. Renovation works in the apartment unit below ain't making the environment more conducive; au contraire, mon ami.

Then I came to the following paragraph at the bottom of the document which was sent to me almost two years ago. Each time I read it, I'm impressed by that simple, yet profound (?), reason why people keep doing things that had been done in the past. A very good reminder [from "Sophie"] when faced with doubts and apprehension.

The same holds good for research. There are thousands of scientists who burn the midnight's oil till the day they die and people may never know them or wonder if he has even contributed to society. But when the next person picks up from where he has left, he is providing a platform on which you can continue, and maybe, the next person, is able to achieve or make some remarkable contribution to mankind. A genius at work, he may be, but if nobody researched or published papers in journals, there would be no referrals. So I think success in a society largely depends on this. I know many may disagree.

____________
 

Setting Windows Media Player to shuffle the playlist, the scribe thoroughly enjoyed (surprisingly) Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams besides the usual flavours like Firehouse's Love of a Lifetime or Martika's Toy Soldier. He attributed that to the mind's need for something stimulating. He also strives to cut down on the excessive use of contractions – that'd easily confuse – unless necessary.

 

Remembering Amanda

No, I don't have anyone named Amanda who has passed away. But I think I dreamt of Amanda because of the song by Boston.

Nice to listen to whilst working. It's another day of facing the computer and hammering away on the keyboard, all the while sneezing. It must be the rain; when I went out for a haircut (still getting used to the dude staring back at me in the mirror) this afternoon. For most part of the day, it's blustery, dark, and cloudy.

I'll turn in very soon. Achoo! Oh no, the mucus says hi!

 

Happy Birthday, Blog!

Four years ago on this day, I made my first post here. In the days that follow, I’ve fiddled with the layout and picking up HTML in the process (it’s CSS now! Gosh!). It certainly wasn’t the one-stop destination for web surfers and it still isn’t; at least not for the majority of people out there.

I don’t usually keep track of August 23 until a week ago when I posted the video about Nick. Anyway, this is one place I escape to ever so frequently and speak my mind. Besides, where else I could put up my poems for the world some people to see if not here in my little dominion – one that’s demarcated by nothing more than a URL.

Source: alicja_sto on stock.xchng

Wicks & Waxes

Someone once asked why the site is called such and that we’re not able to count “wax”. Since I didn’t provide any explanation before, I might as well do it here. I meant for wicks to be all the posts I made, each a manifestation of my thoughts (wax) for everyone to comprehend (light). Still, though debatable, we couldn’t count wax. That’s simply the transitive verb, wax.

And then it wanes

Now, if anyone doesn’t know, it’s the opposite of wax. I wasn’t that diligent back then and there’s a time when I got too lazy to post anything here. I realized when I subject myself to some sort of routine, it takes the fun away. Still, it’s been awhile since I waxed poetic about life.

Durability of an oak

Now, it takes some discipline to faithfully do something even if that something’s an enjoyable thing to do. On some days, I do force myself to type a few words and somehow the ideas will flow then off I go until the last full stop (or period). But the one thing that kept me going then, and the same that encourages me now, is the visitors here. Knowing they read and even better, leaving their thoughts thereafter.

Quercus coccinea - Steve Baskauf

That brings me on a very significant part of this blogging journey...

It’s the best of feelings when I get told people can relate to that which I wrote (especially the poems). I don’t need each post, pictures, music, and videos to mean something to people but as long as they find one or two that’s meaningful, it felt nice. Felt.

In the last month of ’08 and early ’09, there was a back and forth correspondence with one “Sophie”. Now, Sophie was someone who appreciates what I wrote and it was nice exchanging emails over two months. Alas, some encounters do end and end it did. The last email I got was two days after my birthday. As much as I'd like to know why, I don't think I'm going to ever find out.

Oh well, I hope Sophie’s doing well right now.

Shout outs to people who visits frequently and faithfully read over the years and “Sophie” deserves a special mention: thank you. God bless you all!

 

O'Donnell Abu: The Prelude to Alma Mater's Call

So, I learned today – from the group discussion on Facebook – that my school rally (the same one shared by all La Sallian educational institutions albeit with some variation in wordings) takes the tune from O'Donnell Abu. More about the song here.

First published c. 1843 as "The Clanconnell War Song." "Red Hugh" O'Donnell's hatred of England was based on a personal experience; as a teenager, the English had gotten him drunk and taken him prisoner. He escaped a few years later (1591), but the unfair imprisonment affected his opinions for the rest of his life. The "O'Neill" of the song is Hugh, third Baron of Dungannon and second Earl of Tyrone, one of the greatest Anglo-Irish barons of the time (1551-1616).

He became O'Neill in 1593 when his brother Turlough resigned him the position. Prior to that, he had held the barony of Dungannon from 1569 and the Tyrone earldom from 1587. He cooperated with the English more than this song might imply, but the threat to his position (Tudor bureaucracy looked likely to overcome the ancient clan loyalties) eventually pushed him toward rebellion. If the rebellion could be said to have a commander (a debatable point), he was it.

Source: Folklorist

It sure is lively then, and it certainly is now. Ah, Irish roots and then some! Let's see what else pops up 7 years after I left school. Seven already? Never a week passes without, at worst, a fleeting thought about the place. It's different walking in now than when I was still in my school uniform. Suddenly, being under the rules are way nicer than feeling like a wandering spirit. I've said it once and probably a hundred times more before, whether I'm in it now or out of it, I owe this place everything.

 

Chewing the Cud, Choking on Grass

Weekends never tarry. They come slowly and leave quickly every time. Just when I needed more time, a new day announces itself in the form of the time and date on the system tray. It was a balmy Sunday and there I was, hunched over the LCD reading – from bootstrap analysis to enteropathogenic E. coli. Those journal articles and web pages took about 5 hours to complete.

Now, I wouldn’t remember a single thing, much less understand what I was reading, if I didn’t punctuate those 1 – 6 pm period with some less demanding materials. I trawled the net looking for graduate schools offering doctoral degrees in varsities all over the world, stopping at Singapore, Ghent, Seattle, Oregon and somehow I got caught up in the breathtaking view of Montana.

Alas, that tiny but mounting desire to pursue a doctorate was snuffed out. To digress, my decision to jump into postgraduate studies in 2008 was because I felt inadequate as a graduate. It’s a deception for anyone to think that after three years, one is qualified and competent; not me and definitely not here in Malaysia. It’s purely for knowledge and to better train myself; which is why I wasn’t in a rush to complete everything in under a year.

Now when I’m ready to take my life as a student / researcher to the next level, I’m faced with the prospect of having to give it all up and settle for a job somewhere in the country. All I could hope for is that my government establishes (and broadens bilateral) ties with more countries as far as education is concerned.

That light at the end of the road (?). One evening on the North-South Expressway

From Sweden to Switzerland, scholarships are offered to students from a rather long list of developing countries and when you thought your country is there somewhere (owing to a number of high profile pacts with MIT, Johns Hopkins, and scholarships to Harvard), you’re stupefied to not see your country in it but your neighbours are there.

Maybe my government is committed only to world class (assuming the rest aren’t) education in renowned institutions and I’m better off applying here at home. Then it hits me: the selection process is shady and reeks of biasness.

Some would say to me, if I’m so good why don’t I seek out scholarships from my institution of choice? To which I answer, even if I know I’m damn good, how am I going to raise that sum of money for the flight ticket and the fees for the first term so I can get registered to be eligible? Still, many will come with many propositions without knowing the state I’m in. Also, I'm not one that will just settle for the next convenient pasture and do something I'm totally not interested in.

I’m in good spirit, still. One more channel to pursue: USM’s Academic Staff Training Scheme. Upon completion of studies, there’s a 7-year bond to the varsity. Ready for another bad news? The selection process is like what I mentioned before and I know who will be in the panel. Ah, life on Earth sure is colourful! Let’s hope when (if that happens) I get selected, I’d be able to charm them with whatever appeal that’s left in me – nothing much to begin with.

So, those research and sulking took all afternoon and come dinnertime, I was swallowing the spaghetti, mushroom and mussels. After that, it’s another few hours of protein folding, oxidative damage, and metering in photography.

Just before calling it a [backbreaking, shoulder-hurting, and heart-hairline-craking] day, I said “hey” to a friend on MSN only to get a cold response. Well, problems of the heart ain’t easy for some so I smiled, gave her my best, and said good night.

My obsession with the sun (sigh): One morning whilst cruising along Gurney Drive.

 So, here I am. I’m supposed to post something about the ocean, underwater trenches and a sinusoidal graph here but I think I’m no longer in the mood for that. Time to dream of shopping at the Portland Farmers Market and wander the streets of Bruges.

 

Man vs Machine, not!

Does anyone remember Borat and his "Not!" joke?
   

This is how my laptop looks like, six years and a month ago. It's no longer as polished as the one shown above and there are dark patches where my palms rest. I’m not dirty when I say “dark patches” but more like the silver coating has worn off. Other than the DVD-ROM drive that no longer reads discs, everything else still functions. Okay, I replaced the keyboard some years back.

I’ve been hearing complaints from my friends about how their relationship with their laptops crash and burn (literally) or on the rocks after just three years [and ended the next]. I looked at my A50 and gave it a kiss. No I didn’t do that.

It was a gift from a family friend (a couple) but I was given the freedom to choose. Long story short, I ended up with the Toshiba and they were rather pleased. I suspect it’s due in part to the fact that they’re Japanese? And they know Toshiba lasts. Six years on, I can tell you it’s a tough machine.

With the A50, I’ve had the joy of burning rubber on the streets with sirens wailing behind in both installments of Need For Speed – Underground 2 and Most Wanted (go Josie Maran!). And who can forget the joy of winning the World Cup, English League, or to trade players and build stadiums in the FIFA series? Or Blizzard’s Starcraft and Warcraft? Did I mention, too, that I almost threw up playing SWAT 4 for too long? Motion sickness. And I’m back using taser on non-compliant suspects soon after.

Glad I swapped out the 512MB of memory for 2GB modules. Now, it’s semi-retired and only does things like processing a 70-page dissertation in 2008 and another 100 pages in these few months. Lately, I’ve been using it for photomanipulation on Gimp and occasionally, DotA with my friends. As happy as I am with this buddy of mine, I can’t help but feel left out every time new games or apps are released and the system requirements are almost ridiculous.

The day will come when I’ll get one i7 workhorse with an equally powerful GPU. Then, I’d explore the possibilities of learning video processing and of course, games like Call of Duty: Black Ops. Still, that might take at least two more years.

For now, I’m pleased with my laptop. It’s been a rewarding journey; blogging, malware-removal training, programming, graphics, music and movie nights! Some things last and some don’t, some last longer whilst some never took off. It’s the same for the A50 and everything else. Gotta learn to be thankful and to let go should the situation demands it, right?

Counting My Blessings

On the way to the washroom, I walked past a table where a family of four sits and overheard their conversation. Dad was discussing sports with Son whilst Daughter was busy tapping away on her iPhone. I did my business and a minute or two later walked by the same table again.

Now, mum is seated between Dad and Daughter. Dad has his arm over the chair, tip of his fingers slightly resting on Mum’s shoulder. Dad roared in delight, Son clutched his gut as Mum looked with fondness at dear Daughter – her complexion as red as a tomato.

I sat a few feet away and strained my ears; wanting to eavesdrop and figure out what’s so funny. Also, I now learn that peripheral vision sure is very limited. 

Ok, that was a re-creation and combination of similar experience in the past.

Sometimes, don’t we all feel like we’re perpetually locking horns with our parents whilst others are like the best of friends with theirs? When ours dictate without listening, we tried to reason with them only to be silenced. Then we started comparing, yearning, and hoping – wistfully – to miraculously be a son or daughter to that “perfect” parent.

Like it or not, we’re stuck with wherever God puts us in. It’s been chosen for us and in obedience we learn to honour them. This thought’s been nagging at me ever since I read the line that sounded like this: How can I hurt my dad?

I don’t know if that question was posed for fun or otherwise and I don’t know what the dude went through. One thing’s for sure, I can relate to people wanting something like the opening scenario above. 

Source: stock.xchng

I can’t say I grow up in a felicitous but I didn’t experience a Spartan upbringing either. Mum and dad (or do you prefer ‘father and mother’?) worked hard to ensure we’re well-fed and our schoolbags are well-equipped, for which I’m thankful. Somehow I felt they missed, what is perhaps, the one important thing I was (and still am) looking for: to listen.

And I realized I’m not the only experiencing that. Was it education? Culture? Parents they think (rightly and wrongly) that if the child’s well-fed and the fee’s all paid, they’ve shown love. Well, partly at best. There’s seldom time for a get-together where everyone just sits down talk about what’s happened the week before – in a relaxing and honest environment I may add. Even if there’s a Q&A, it’s got to do with whether the cash flow’s sustainable. Over the years, barriers are built and people drift apart. Now, to even show affection seemed like an insurmountable task with lots of awkwardness thrown in.

Some parents are overly protective, so much so that they limit their children’s mingling with people. Well, I wasn’t that restricted but I was taught to choose my friends wisely. As discriminatory as it seemed, that cynicism do help at times. But I’m old enough know to not judge people from the get-go but to let them show us what they’re made of.

Looking back and looking at the present, regardless of how they fared, parents just want the best for their children even if it meant their children bemoaning their parenting skills. Love means many things to many parents. Love means setting curfew to some whilst to others, it means letting them out and walking with them. Love also means asking if food is sufficient but it also means asking whether there’s an emotional distress that needs an ear and a shoulder. Love to some definitely means stuffing you with food and deaf to your pleading whilst another, out of love, never imposes.

Love means so many things. And to my group, love means posting this on a blog to come to terms (or was it called reconcile?) with the sort of parenting one has to err... endure for more than two decades.

Still... Parents, why don’t you listen sometime?! Your child might not be as reasonable as me! Haha! I don’t know, there are times I’m really frustrated but there never was a time that I wished harm on them.

I tell myself what I’ve been telling people; that I don’t grow and sustain myself since day zero on sunlight.

 

Back When

A friend shared a video on her Facebook wall and the moment I hit play, a familiar face greeted me. I've seen this guy somewhere and half a seconds later, I remembered. Nick was the reason I penned a short verse back in 2007; August 23 to be exact.

When I finished, I wasn't sure where I'd post that and it hit me, I'd have my own corner here in cyberspace. The rest, like they say, is history.

Four years on and over 250 posts later, I'm glad I'm still the same inside. Still that guy who prefers the quiet of his house and declining many invites to "hang out". By certain definition, I'm what they call a loser. But if not getting wasted and to spend money unnecessarily is deemed a loser, then I gladly embrace it. There's nothing more important to me than to be who I really am. Of course, I don't live a cloistered life. I had my share of fun these years with wonderful people I've met along the way.

I suppose I'm thankful to God for doing what He's done thus far; for with my own strength, I wouldn't be the person I am today. Looking at how Nick lives, I'm all the more thankful for what I have at this moment. Still, many times I find myself whine and complain too much. I'm sure many do that too (right? :)) and somehow we seem to be so prone to take things for granted. Seen that ever so often in myself, people around me, and even on Y!A.

And Nick comes along to sort of put us in our place. I need to be more appreciative of the goodness showered upon me each day, even if it meant the slice of sponge cake on the table is still edible – for lunch.

Enjoy the clip. It's been four years and he's enjoying his life since the first day I "met" him online.

Back when...

Here's the very first post that I mentioned above: Life Without Limbs

 

And the Glory Goes to...

Remember I wrote about how much I like looking at randomly-lit cityscape painted by artificial lights set in front of a dark background? I was looking through the pictures I snapped with my camera phone (funny how they’d come up with the name) and most are pictures of the sky. Not totally skies but you know, more up and than down?

Also, those pictures are usually warm which means they’re either taken at dawn or dusk. It’s during sunset that I feel really at ease and letting the throes of the day fade into the darkness. No doubt the sunrise is a sight to behold but where I am, we usually anticipate a hot and sweaty day ahead.

It’s different about 12 hours later when it’s dry and the mercury’s falling. You’d feel things beginning to slow down reaching equilibrium with how intense the wave hits the rock. Soon, life begins both here on the ground and up in the sky.

I’m glad I was there with my trusty Sony Ericsson K530i.

Early in the morning with the white balance set to "cloudy"

Some time in the morning

Late one evening at USM

A wonderful place to be in the evening; more so if its breezy. This is the "rock"-y place I was talking about. Across the road from Queensbay Mall.

Teluk Kumbar: Out looking for seafood and since dinner takes a while to be served...

Ok, now I’m being effusive and at the same time, bland. Perhaps, this God-suspired nature is able to communicate its splendour – differently every time – to everyone who takes time to see.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.

Psalm 19:1-4

Lord, regardless whether one prefers 7 am or 7 pm, I thank you for each new day and your providence throughout.

 

A ⇔ B and REM

I love you... that is if you love me too.

When I read that, I went, “What the {bleep}? Really?”

And then I realized that I shouldn’t be surprised by that. Judging by how things work today, there are many who’d subscribe to that. Well, I think it’ll be easier to count how the number of people who don’t operate in that manner.

I wonder what Amanda’s like. I haven’t “seen” her since last Wednesday but I had a less-than-lovely dream last night. I went at a thief with a hammer and he fired two shots at me; both found their way into my chest. Lucky for me, I lived to use a different approach the next time around.

Another warm Sunday afternoon and I’m going to take a nap after finishing the 4-minute clip on Buttermilk Fried Chicken. Do look up “foodwishes” on YouTube. You’d drool every time. I know I did, with a little rumbling in the tummy.

Note from a Math weakling: (material equivalence) A ⇔ B means A is true if B is true and A is false if B is false.

 

A Cracking Day, Breaking Wind

Nevermind the title. Those words just came to me after I finished typing.

It’s one of those mornings that really lift your spirit to the point that you’d feel yourself float a few centimetres off the ground as you walked. I have to pick this one up later. Time to go for dim sum with a bunch of friends.

***

And I’m back; after two hours of Chinese tea and some sinfully (read oily) delicious food. Those, coupled with a good laugh with Wendy, Raj, PKC, and LGL. It’s a very good day indeed.

A very breezy – almost blustery – morning and the sunlight wonderfully diffused. Traffic was smooth and it’s a joy to drive; well, it’s a joy for me to drive everyday – the hilly pass and the long, fast straights.

Jelutong Expressway: This doesn't look like much but at 9:30 am, it's really my best-loved kinda weather

Maybe I’d upload some pics later. I know, I know, it’s dangerous to not fully concentrate on the road but well, it’s one of those days. If only everyday is cloudy when I’m awake and it starts to pour when I’m about to sleep.

I don’t think I’ll be having lunch since breakfast is still in transit waiting for the pyloric sphincter to open.

Last night, I posted a question on Y! A (Yahoo! Answers if you don't already know what this is) regarding some Russian letters and a person by the name of Val volunteered to record some words and sent it over to me; which she did two hours later. Ah, I’m so thankful for that wonderful gesture. Thank you, Val, whoever you are. Большое спасибо!

I guess it’s time for me to end here and start yakking with Wendy, who came all the way to Penang just to visit us in the lab. I love Friday. Don’t you?

Edited 6 pm with pictures and a few lines.

Here's what I'd see if I have to get up earlier than usual for meetings with my supervisor. You can bet I'll go trigger-happy with my phone.

At about 6:40 am

Favourite part of my journey (both ways): Up (and down) the hill. Air's great... until about 7-iah

A really smooth journey all the way until USM. Then a stopover for breakfast consisting of teh tarik and roti canai. Beautiful, innit?

All in a 35-minute journey.
    

Eating My Way Through... Part 2

Tug, tug. Snip, snip. And the stitches were removed. We waited for a little over an hour before we’re called into the exam room. As usual, our dentist was all smiles and asked how each of us held up against the swelling during the whole of last week. The three of us spoke for about five minutes, thanked her and then opened the door to freedom. At least that’s what I’d like to think. It’s going to be about another week or so before the “crater” will be overgrown with tissues.

I’m already thinking how I’m going to season my potatoes and sauté them. There are fishes too and maybe I’ll think of something later. If before this I chronicled my tussle with post-op troubles, the days weren’t without some pleasant occurrences.

For a start, I could have ice cream anytime I want and the first two nights I skipped brushing my teeth. Before anyone starts cringing, I did swirl a mouthful of chlorhexidine solution.

Everyone around me seemed nicer; not that they’re unfriendly before this but somehow they’re softer and they have that concerned look with eyes that went, “You poor thing. Let me know if you need anything.” See? I told you it wasn’t that bad; so much so I can start to daydream and thought that I revolve around them.

The most delightful of events in the past week has got to be this one vivid dream. It was at a counter where students can make reservations to use a lecture hall for their activities. It’s situated along the busy corridor of the main lecture hall complex and the person on duty that night is my Genetics lecturer.

Here I am, discussing details of the reservation as well as that of the unknown event with a girl; all the while checking the application form. Names, time, equipments. She’s Chinese but has that Pan-Asian looks and she's really fair. Her dark hair hung down over her shoulders terminating between the ends of her scapulae. Ok, shoulder blades. She possesses a smile that warms; and not beguiling or else I’d be running away even in my dreams.

Just before we leave the counter – gosh, I can’t imagine Prof N as the guy handling the bookings of the varsity’s facilities – I remember asking, “Hey, will we meet again?”

She smiled and nodded.

I walk her to the car park; up the ramp towards an awaiting car. She opens the door, we say our goodbyes, and the door then shut with a muffled thud. The window tint cast a bluish-green hue on that oval face as she smiled and waved. And the car speed off. A white, late model Toyota Camry with the registration plate: PJE and some-four-digits-with-8-and-3 in them. Somehow, I look up into the sky and heave a deep sigh. It’s her boyfriend’s car. Funny how I’d know that.

Do I still regard that as pleasant? Well, majority of the dream (at least what I remembered clearly) wasn’t about the driver of the car. So yeah, I suppose I am. Good thing is, she’s not some person that I know existed and definitely not from one of those tv ads; though her looks have a semblance (not resemblance) of an acquaintance. I remembered those letters written in the “Name” field: Amanda.

Yes, yes. People dream and it’s not that big a deal, really. Nevertheless, I find it nice to wake up to a total recollection of that part of the dream and not to a dry mouth.

Eating My Way Through... Part 1

And thus, with six hours left on the sixth day, I look forward to the next sunrise when the sutures/stitches will be removed and the area assessed by the dentist. The first two days after surgery weren’t pleasant. The pain was almost gone on the first night but the swelling starts soon after.

I had to open my mouth – no, more like not able to shut it properly – as my upper tooth will rest directly on the swollen area of the gum. Fine, I thought. I’d prop my head on two pillows, tilted it slightly to the right and downwards, and go to sleep. Giving myself an imaginary pat on the back, I went to sleep.

I was jolted from my slumber and I remember opening my mouth (seemed like reflex on hindsight) sucking in some air in a vain attempt to sooth the pain. Somehow, my brain decided then to tell the jaws to shut. Tight.

Now I got smarter and on the second night, I rolled some dental gauze pads together and place them between my premolars on the right; a good distance from the left side should the gauze fall inside my mouth. I awoke to a very dry mouth the next day.

Eating wasn’t a nice experience. Due to the minimal jaw opening, I had to use a teaspoon to feed myself. Although I made killer (or nearly so) mash potatoes, it’s so difficult to spoon a small amount mash and slowly introduce it into the buccal cavity. Any bigger and I’d be kissing the mash.

Fast forwarding...

Today I had porridge for lunch. Five days of mash potatoes seemed like too much for too long. The area where the partially erupted tooth used to be now looked puffy and it felt much smaller when I tried biting down. And it slightly red but pink overall. I need to sink my teeth into some meat soon.

And oh, I'll be having rice vermicelli for dinner. Soup's ready. The scent of seaweed, mushroom, dried scallops, and sesame oil beckons. I might as well cook the vermicelli now.

 

Fragmented something something

It took about 90 minutes to remove my particularly deep and stubborn tooth. The reason I’m typing this is to get my mind off the dull, throbbing pain. Gosh! It’s annoying and I don’t want to pop too many pills within two hours.

Man, it’s not nice at all. My mind’s empty and my fingers are hitting the key nearly randomly. Ok, not random or else you’ll get smoetinhg lkie tihs. Now I’m being absurd. I can’t think clearly and I’m hungry.

It’s fortunate that the blood’s clotted. Let’s hope the swelling is minimal over the next couple of days. I remember the green garb put over my face with a square hole for my mouth to be exposed. Are holes square? Or are they round? Or is it circle because there’s a hole? It’s rather terrifying to be able to hear but not see a thing.

The pint-sized dentist was gentle but boy, she’s strong. After the sectioning, she’d pluck them out. Pluck(?!) I’m losing my marbles. I didn’t have any to begin with (literally-speaking). The sound of the tooth sections being separated from the alveolar bone was sickening.

I looked at what I typed and I thought to myself, my being disorderly; funny and never happened when I write. No, when I type.

Did I mention that I sent a few text messages out and didn’t manage to read them? For the next 87 minutes, I was hoping the tooth fall out soon. Feeling the familiar soft fibers brushing my lips was soothing. Calming.

“She is suturing ground zero.”

The rest needs no further description. Pain still lingers. Not good. And I’ve finished my rather fragmented thoughts; much like what I saw when she laid out my tooth – or what’s left of my tooth – after the procedure.

And oh, scenes from Saw (film) kept playing in my mind. Gosh!

Thank you Dr. Aswani and we'll see you during Kak Mimi's Raya open house.

 

The Sum of...

I like the part when he went:

You can count on me like one, two, three
I'll be there and I know when I need it
I can count on you like four, three, two
And you'll be there 'cause that's what friends
Are supposed to do...

Saw that [shared] on Facebook for the second time now and I must say that it’s really sweet what they did (using Flash?). Good to know that there’s still a song written about friendship. For me, it’s nice to listen to this one and putting away – for a little while – those lovey-dovey, queasy-cheesy lyrics chronicling the passion between two souls.

Ok, I exaggerated. If the songs are in my playlist then they’re all hunky-dory. Not too much, not too scarce, just Julian-ish.

August 1. Dang!