in whose hands?

Oi you with the highbrow questions the serious addressing of which would be utterly at odds with the tenor of this page: how else am I to fob you off if not with a lukewarm diatribe against some illustory obstacle in my way to Total Satisfaction with Everything.

Of course my life is in my hands. Absolutely. At least I need to believe as much. It is not easy to reconcile the fatalistic and opportunistic sides of me; but whenever I contemplate the alternatives to taking things into my own hands, those are even less comforting.

However, this being-in-control-of-one's-own-destiny thing, which no doubt in most parts of the world is a tremendous privilege enjoyed by few, I'm afraid is quite wasted on me. Frankly I find it all a bit overrated. I've always been content with being someone's someone - daughter, friend, sister (no "..." at the end: these three are the only ones that matter). Obviously, I constantly wonder whether my sense of self is so bound up with people's perceptions of me that I have no independent identity to speak of. But really, yes or no, it makes little difference. That is how I relate to the world, and I neither can nor wish to change it.

I can see how this might lead to the conclusion that I simply don't know what I want and am therefore living for others. Which wouldn't be entirely wrong, but wouldn't be the entire picture either. I know what I want as much (or little) as the next person. Some things I want for myself a, some for people in my life b, and some for both in varying proportions c. I don't distinguish between these as I go about my day, trying to make this or that happen. Because if I only get to have things my way a fixed percentage of the time, I don't much mind the a:b:c breakdown. Although, experience shows that a's consistently underperform - hence the misleading inference that I systematically neglect these.

There's also the difficulty of identifying whose life it is that's in my hands. I'll be the first to admit to being a Meddler. What's that adage that's been selfishly appropriated by AA... Grant me serenity to accept the things I can't change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Yeah hook me up with some o' that.

can hardly wait

My excitement impedes my ability to pun. Hence, a post free of double entendres, and of any discernible point, though the latter is quite the norm.

I am packed. I am cashed up. My room resembles less of a pigsty and more of an average slacker's room than it did last week. I have bid my adieus. I am ready to go! See, when I have a plan, I always deliver ahead of schedule. (Which is consistent with the observation that I submitted uni assignments more and more at-the-last-minute as the years went by.)

Since somebody kindly spared me the expense and retail-associated trauma (RAT) of buying a backpack, I invested part of the $ saved in a couple of books, in the hope of giving myself a crash course in Arabic, Egyptology, etc. Needless to say, my enthusiasm has been matched by neither aptitude nor will. Still, based on what little I've absorbed, it is an atypical case of the-more-I-know-the-more-I-like. Already I am wishing I'd organised a longer stay, and planning a second visit.

------------------------------

I live a life of such excesses. I have more clothes than I've time to wear, more food than is required to sustain my body, more space than I need to be comfortable, more money than is made good use of, more love and affection than I give, more problems than I can or care to articulate... Why? And who am I taking from? (Other than the problems, that is, of which each person is her/his own most reliable supplier.)

------------------------------

It was a Saturday night to remember. Excellent moussaka from Greek Cafe was followed by 5hrs of karaoke, during which obscure and forgotten tunes the likes of which Nthbridge had never known, were sacrileged with great fervour and little finesse (speaking only for myself). Tunes so obscure, it is not simply a matter of age nationality upbringing or personal preference, but also of what it means to embrace all things underrated unconventional and virtually-unknown. So forgotten, the karaokeers themselves were surprised by how differently the tunes sounded to the way they do in their heads (at least that's my excuse for not being able to keep up).

Just like family get-togethers, raunchy parties, getting blind-drunk, and combinations thereof, karaoke is one of those things I couldn't handle every weekend, but invariably miss if deprived of for too long.

------------------------------

While on our post-dumplings walk this eve, N brought up the topic of dreams which, when I did in the past, made for poor conversation because she tended to remember having dreamed but not what about. Apparently she dreams a lot about being separated from family (as do most 8yo's I'd imagine, family being their gateway to, and frame of reference for, the world): in public places, by a house fire that engulfs everything and everyone except for her, ...; at the moment it's driving around looking for me, without success. I told her about similar dreams of mine, omitting of course the gruesome details some of which still make me shudder.

hip hip hooray

Mum is the same age today as her mother was when I started paying attention to grown-ups' ages. When N is as old as I am today I'll be almost as old as mum was when she left China. When I'm as young as mum is today N will be a couple of years older than the age mum will always be to me, her age the first time I ever asked her age. Time waits for no one.

At the end of a chaotic day taken up by bible study (don't ask, Mulan) and entertaining unexpected guests, I know she appreciated the tranquility and attentive service of Grand Palace which, despite alarmingly resembling a public lavatory from afar, was endowed with unabashedly posh interior decor. Just the sort of thing to impress one's Azn mother and convince her of one's brimming ambition. *wink*

And now, with N sprawled across my mattress and the folks gone to the casino (I swear I am the only member of my family not in the least seduced by this or similar institutions), I am thinking of the woman who gave birth, and a bit more, to me.

collections

I had a small tin of coins from all over the world. Half a tin really; a mere handful, even. Still, an impressive collection for someone who hasn't travelled much or far. Most of the coins came from dad's passengers who had for some reason (mistake, intoxication, bankruptcy, and so on) paid/tipped him with foreign currency.

I've sorted and bagged the handful according to country. I'm not interested in expanding the collection just for the sake of doing it. The little bags are ideas for travel destinations. Somehow they're more real, more enticing than anything I've read in brochures or seen on TV. Life is happening in Fiji, Indonesia, Ireland, Japan, Mauritius, USA, ... Residents of Egypt, France, Italy, New Zealand, South Africa, UK, ... have visited where I live. When it's my turn to drop in on them, I'll happily take my little bag, and reunite its contents with their homeland.

****************************************************************************************************
Do people collect stamps anymore? I do, and have been since before I knew all the Chn characters on those intricately composed squares/rectangles/triangles/...; and I learned to read unnaturally early. It started as a bonding activity between mum and I, even though my sticky fingers weren't allowed anywhere near the goodies at first. When at last her vigour waned I took over; methinks she was glad more than anything to be left alone to attend to more pressing matters.

Not that I know the first thing about protecting the specimens, spotting counterfeits, what's worth how much. Mine is more of an passive indiscriminate accumulation technique, i.e. the more the merrier and never go out of my way. The technique has much to commend itself: minimal time/effort/expenditure whilst still offering a certain amount of aesthetic nourishment. I'd like to pass it on to N, when (if ever) she achieves the requisite level of patience and TLC. Failing which, it is my earnest hope that amidst the junk lies a thing or two that'll supplement my retirement package.

splash

Things To Do More Often #49: swim in the ocean.
(Above is NOT brought to you by watching late night re-runs of Lost.)

I am not the most elegant swimmer. Before coming to Oz, despite years of summer splashes at Gulangyu beaches, I never learnt to swim. Later, despite years of weekly laps at the local pool to help with my probably psychosomatic asthma, I still can't 'float' without making horizontal displacement (I'm sure there's a technical term for this ... water polo style?). So the superior buoyancy of sea water is an attraction, though of course not the most exhilarating one.

City Beach with the Albanyan and her best mate this eve. The Alb and I are taking our relationship to the next level and meeting each other's friends, hehe. The weather was perfect, the rips a little crazy, but if the 7yo in Bratz bikini frolicking 10m away could handle it, I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Also, lunched with OM at our usual place. No more o' this next year boohoo. Call me old-fashioned, but women over 40 should not be allowed to look that good. Call me old-fashioned again, but there's something disturbing about a mother recounting with pride her teenage daughter's romantic exploits. O_o

Was offered an interview with an Albany firm yesterday. Not the one I'd applied to, by my recollection; my guess is that rejected applications from that other firm got passsed around. Anyway, got me thinkin' what I'd have done if I'd been offered something in Albany before SB. I'd be getting ready for Albany, in all likelihood. There's no such thing as the right choice, and there'll always be regrets whichever way. But far more importantly - Joy paves each of our chosen paths, and Chance works in mysterious ways.

girl guide

With the exception of the stint at Kumon which ended abruptly with a voicemail summary dismissal, I tend to stop working at a job weeks, months even, after I think/announce/wish that it's over. It is an unwelcome and inconvenient pattern; but also a seemingly indestructible one.

This morning I gave another campus tour, despite my student-no-more status and the token sum I knew I was getting paid. However, unlike the time I crashed my car on the way home from the Sunflower the day after my supposed last day, or the time I wrote off said car whilst delivering for said restaurant some months later (in order to pay off the insurance excess on the first-mentioned claim), I did not regret today.

I have a gift. (over and above the gift for vehicular collisions) Under-12s are just crazy about me. I don't think it too immodest or exaggerated an assertion. I have N, N's friends, Kumon students, tutees, friends' siblings/offspring, and campus tour participantss like today's to back me up. Hardly a third of the way into the tour my PC Yr3s were ready to kidnap me back to school with them.

I didn't always know that I had this gift. For a time I mistook it as me merely regurgitating or channeling whatever I'd observed mum and her colleagues do at primary school. But if they were my inspiration, I must say that the pupil has overtaken most of her unwitting teachers.

If only I cared less about money, or being judged based on my occupation (those who can't do, teach), or the illusion of a more performative place in the world, I might've more fully exploited the one gift I'd been endowed.

Sunday sweaty Sunday

God put mothers on Earth to drive their daughters up the wall. It is not their only mission in life, perhaps; but it has to be one of the more relished and influential.

Against all my instincts, including but not limited to phobias of crowds / direct sunlight / 'mainstream' events, I mustered enough enthusiasm to plan an excursion to the Air Race with mum and N. Sadly though not surprisingly the Park 'n' Ride was full, and there was no way we could drive there in time, so I let them take the shuttle in without me, assuming they would call when ready to be picked up.

But does mum ever: remember to take the mobile with her; use a pay-phone; not make impromptu unilateral alterations to a pre-agreed itinerary; think that her elder daughter just *might* worry sick if she and her younger daughter remain incommunicado hours after they were scheduled to arrive home???? If you guessed 'yes' to any of the above then you have more faith in her than I do.

Granted, I am not the most rational person beyond pedantry. There is no verifiable reason to question her ability to utilise public transport or to look out for herself and N in this globablly speaking extremely safe lil town. And she does this (finding her way home, complete with the last-minute changes-of-plan and the incommunicado) often enough that maybe a totally sane and unrelated (a tautology really; one cannot be at once totally sane and related to me) person ought not be at all fazed.

But does any of that give me one smidgeon of peace of mind? By 7pm I was contemplating the mechanics of filing missing person's reports and explaining to dad how I'd misplaced a large chunk of his immediate family. Fortunately for the local police and for dad, at 7.15 the two heartbreakers casually strolled in, shopping bags in hand, having spent the rest of the afternoon in the city.

Alongside all that drama, my get-fit-for-trip plan stays on track with a massive workout today. After being rejected by the Park 'n' Ride a flash of spectacular-even-by-my-standards stupidity overcame me, causing me to:

1. crawl with the traffic into Sth Pth, only to find parking an hour later and several post codes away; then
2. try to locate my phoneless intended co-showgoers on the foreshore (yeah that worked great).

Combined effect of 1. and 2. was me walking from UBD page 373 D8 to page 372 D5 and back, in the pre-summer mugginess, no sunscreen, no water, in my ageing chafing flip-flops (nobody says 'flip-flops' in this neck o' the woods, I know; but had I written 'thongs' instead it might've been misinterpreted), for over 3 hours.

In the evening the Albanyan and I made enchiladas and asparagas salad, and life returned to its optimal rocking state.

rock candy

My life rocks. I don't care how bipolar this makes me sound - given my usual deadpan style. And it doesn't just rock at the moment, or because of anything. It rocks always (only too often unacknowledged), for no apparent reason, and so hard that it is inexplicable to as firm a believer-in-the-randomness-of-everything (BITROET, pronounced like "beetroot") as me. But someone else can do the explicating, since I'm busy exploiting, the rockingness.

And for that, there's never been a better time than now. It is the first holiday ever which will not feature:
- More School looming at the other end; and
- organising finances for year ahead and/or stressing about my inability to do so.

Day 4 and already I am detoxed and unscrambled and rejuvenated and more.

Mon

Post-apocalypse walk along the campus foreshore to let it all start to sink in. Mutual congratulations abounded - with comrades passing by, via phone, or only in thought.

Ran into almost-there Albanyan, who coaxed me (and not for the 1st time) into bemoaning in unison with her the lack of romance in our lives. "It is the only thing missing", whimpered 2 of the most intelligent independent interesting women I know. *sigh*

Dined with Dr P and her lover @ the Vic in Subi, where I did my best normal-person impersonation in pursuance of candidature as feasible cohabitant. Alert as I am to the risks of sharing a roof with a friend, my logic is this: if I can't put up with her / she can't put up with me - what hope have I with anyone else? (We'll talk more about this, pardner.)

Tue

Apart from earlier-mentioned dim sum extravaganza, day was taken up by
- preliminary steps toward making my room inhabitable again
- guitar, my long-neglected secret passion (to say nothing of my aptitude)

Beered with Suga @ the Norfolk in Freo, where reasons of
better-off-as-friends were re-enumerated. Just 'cos a topic has been done to death, doesn't mean it can't still be the catalyst for shallow bigoted carefree fun on demand. One day all this (claimed) maturity realisticism level-headedness will bite me on the ass and not in an enjoyable way.

Wed & Thu

More highly therapeutic cleaning and guitar playing. Plus bike-riding reading swimming TV, all of which my dwindling time managment skills have been denying me for far too long.

DD Monster continued to wreak havoc, luring me into:
- accompanying mum to the doctor's / shops
- laundrying
- the kitchen

Some beaching had also been scheduled, but weather yesterday was uncooperative. So Lotus and I ended up in Freo, trying on dresses. Yes dresses. Lucky for everyone said item was not in my pre-trip budget so you're all spared, but only until maybe post-Xmas sales hohoho.

Fri

Finally visited Shell and Tez @ their place, after much incompetent friending on my part. One of the more respectable share-houses I've come across, and definitely liveable - so there might be hope for me after all! T fed us a hearty meal out of a 1970s Women's Weekly recipe book. Then it was time to put up the Xmas tree (no such thing as "too early"!) while we updated h-school gossip (pregnancies, births, weddings, break-ups, criminal convictions, extreme-makeovers, momentary-slips-in-judgment, and so forth). T's 5yo CJ had the beautifulest eyes, as well as possibly the most comprehensive and sustained exposure to naughty words in the greater metropolitan region.

luncheon okAsian

Another thing that I do, which I don't imagine other people my age enjoy doing as much, is occasionally spending time with a whole bunch of people, some a lot older, others a lot younger, than me, with whom I have little in common except our country of origin. Very occasionally.

Whenever the joy luck club meet for dim sum I'm invariably "at work", or "studying", or otherwise "busy". But this morning as I saw mum all dressed up and chirpy and inviting me (no more insistently than usual) and explaining the reason for today's gathering (no more momentous than usual), the Dutiful Daughter Monster inside me crawled out and implanted an unsettling thought in my head: I want a piece o' that action!

Not having much to say to my fellows is not as big a problem as it appears at first glance. Wave after wave of hideous (and surprisingly unintelligible for any self-respecting Chn) academia-related queries engulf me, and with the peace of mind of many a concerned-but-clueless parent at stake, I am forced to be more diplomatic than is in my nature.

Then there's the repeated thankyous and appropriate displays of modesty as the grandmas and grandpas learned of (bit presumptuous; no idea what they thought they heard given the dialect barriers, the mild senility and the innate resistance of the info to being presented in a remotely memorable fashion) what I'm doing next year. Not that that's what I go to these things for; I'm vain, not shameless. I'm there for research, in preparation for the day I inflict the next (better make that the 57th and counting) Amy Tan on the world.

Try as he might to suppress it, dad often develops this stunned expression as he watches me interact with his people. I wonder what stuns him more, that I speak Chinese so proficiently, or that I speak at all. It could also be the uncanny parallels in our senses of humour, by which he cannot possibly be more disturbed than I am.

Dad's behaviour of late has been consistent with what I can only describe as the onset of mid-life crises (or, as I prefer to call it, Manopause). He's quit smoking and mah-jong just like that *snaps fingers*, and taken up regular exercise (2 swims 2 bikerides a week - not an astounding amount by national standards but for the man I used to know, heck yeah) as well as Helping Around the House (arghhh!!!). Frankly, I was getting a lot freaked out. That is, until I saw him with his buddies today, comparing their weight losses and quitting strategies and the regularity of their daily routines. Boys. Everything's a competition. *rolls eyes, begrudging affection*

six years none the richer

gimme my money back, gimme my money back, you bitch. i want my money back ...

Slightly out of context, but so encapsulates my sentiments towards the higher education system.

I may have gotten to know myself (circa school's advertising slogan) a little better, formed a few abiding friendships, accumulated a heap of info unlikely to be useful even at trivia nights, and learnt some stuff too. But how much is any of that attributable to the System? Not to a degree (oh petty pun) commensurate with the size of the debt which shall follow me until menopause, surely.

tank man, tanked woman

A not-overly-Chn of-Chn-descent associate of mine caught a documentary on SBS last night about the "incident" that took place at Tian'anmen Square in early June 1989, and asked for "my thoughts on it". As with all things remotely "political" (in the conventional sense of that word at least), I don't have an opinion on what-happened or what-it-all-meant. I can only say a little about what-I-thought-happened and what-it-meant-to-me. (Yah, stark distinctions there.)

I was six years old at the time of the tank man. Even with my astounding perceptiveness and unparalleled memory, little of the initial impact remains:

People talked about it even where we were, on the other side of the country. So whatever media blackout that'd been implemented wasn't an entire success. How could it be, in a land of twelve-plus billion.

There was something about a highly esteemed (until then, that is) newsreader getting the sack (as well as having more nasty stuff happen to him) for refusing to ... follow the auto-cue, basically. I think it's stuck with me because it was the first, maybe the only, different thing that I noticed anyone (meaning the anchor; not whoever took care of him) do.

Phrases like "reactionary elements", "counterrevolutionaries", "restoring the peace" got bounced around in the media, as can be expected. But "delinquents", "troublemakers", "crowd control" seemed to be more user-friendly alternatives around the dinner table; and even these came up only occasionally, with ambivalence.

Whatever its global/historical significance, the "incident" touched my tiny unremarkable life in a tangible way: it made it more difficult for my father to leave the country. (Haha y'all were expecting something more dramatic/traumatic, weren't ya?) If my family hadn't been stressing over dad's visa application, they'd've had even less reason to touch upon the subject.

I remember having questions, but not what they were. I remember having them dodged by the grown-ups I'd asked, but not how. Not that I asked many questions growing up; I preferred to speculate and theorise. My people (take that however you like) are not the communicating kind.

Cut to high school. I discovered docos on SBS like the one my associate did last night. I researched a bit. But my stamina waned when I realised that I wasn't all that interested in finding out what-really-happened, nor did I care for anybody's take on the matter. Whatever happened happened, and it didn't work, however much awakening/upheaval/coming-of-age spin you put on it. And that was what, if anything, I took from this page in the history books.

Nature or nurture, protest in all its marching/chanting/petition-flogging/hunger-striking/... glory, isn't in my blood. I don't follow the news (I'll need to once work starts, but only with considerable discipline and feigned enthusiasm). I admire people who have politics and are able to articulate and advance them, even the ones with stupid ideas and stupider ways of expressing them; but I have no similar aspirations. You could say that I'm big on Control, and try to avoid getting worked up over things-I-can't-do-much-about.

Such is not the mentality of a future world leader, I suspect. But does it necessarily make me feeble-minded / near-sighted / globally irresponsible? Fine, maybe it does. But I have my way and I'm stickin' to it.

Time may be infinite, but my time on earth isn't. Human suffering may be boundless, but that of those around me might be abated, but only to an extent directly proportional to the amount of time I don't squander on contemplating Higher Truths and formulating Abstract Solutions. I'll still indulge in the squandering from time to time (unfortunate and inadvertent pun), but purpose is to be found elsewhere - somewhere more conspicuous and less convoluted, I hope.

I am acutely aware of the infinitesimal ripple that my existence could foreseeably cause in the giant stale pond of all-that-is-wrong-with-the-world. However, what is faith but belief in the Interconnectedness of Everything? Do no harm, and a little good each day, everyone - and the world shall keep spinnin' nicely ... until it doesn't, obviously, but that's nothing us homo sapiens should lose sleep over.

she said it better

A dash of lost-in-translation, in honour of my latest object-of-infatuation.

Self * 陈绮贞 Self * Chen Qizhen

几次 悔过 掩埋狂妄的恶魔 a few times, repented, buried the insolent demons

感觉却好像毁弃善良的自我 yet it felt like abandoning the good me

几次 脆弱 掩饰 不甘的示弱 a few times, weak, would not show vulnerability

这就是我 this is me

再说 我也不特别渴求永久 besides, it's not as if I particularly yearn for forever

其实 我也无法忠于单一感受 to be honest, nor could I stick with feeling any one way

静止了 沉溺了 无声的灭绝 stilled, drowned, silent annihilation

晕眩 giddy

是我拒绝你已清醒的双眼 it was me that rejected your sober eyes

是我召唤你眼底的错觉 it was me that brought on your misconceptions

就让我用力砸碎轻声的诺言 just let me smash to bits the muffled promises

拥抱瞬间 embrace the moment

是我用真实的编造了谎言 it was me that spun lies out of truths

也是我用残破的猜测这世界 it was me that projected brokenness onto the world

就让我回应你已失序的狂野 just let me reciprocate your jumbled temerity

虚伪瞬间 pretend for the moment

是我 it's me

是我用真实的编造了谎言 it was me that spun lies out of truths

就算我用残破的证实这世界 even if I prove the brokenness of this world

再一次让我尝尽犯错的甜美 let me savour once more the sweetness of mistakes

甜美瞬间 sweet moment

是你带我经过纯洁的瞬间 it was you that took me through that pure moment

无悔无邪 no regrets, innocent

in between nightmares

I kissed someone last night. It was nice. Except I can't remember whether it really happened or was only a dream. I can't. She was there, and then she wasn't. It was that kind of a night. It's that kind of a relationship. Doesn't matter. If it happens again I'll be more ... alert.

And then I was helping a friend put on her bra. She was hospitalised (before, not after) and couldn't do it herself, so it wasn't like that. But that had to be a dream because next thing, I was picking out a new bra for her at the shops. Now I can't speak for everyone of my disposition, but mentally gauging a friend's cup size is not something I do a lot of while conscious.

What's my brain trying to tell me? Buggered if I know.

Meanwhile, I can't believe that there are still members of the Inner Posse unfamiliar with my marital status. Have I not bragged enough about my sweet caring fabulous husband? Obviously not.

Steaked out with him last night in lieu of slightly belated b'day celebrations. Also there were his HB, brother, housemate the Beautiful Chocolate Man, BCM's gf, and DJ Goddess. I'm getting the hang of this being-the-only-non-Mormon-at-a-social-gathering thing. All part of the package I signed on for, you could say.

Out of the blue he said, in front of everyone, I'll stay home with the kids so she can go out there and make lotsa money. Shocking. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.

Also ran into someone I'm always-wanting-to-see-until-after-5min-in-her-company. Yes I have issues. <= which sentence is omitted from the end of most of my paragraphs purely to avoid repetition and clutter.

After scamming an extra complimentary b'day mud-cake and all getting lei'ed, we wandered about Nthbridge a bit. A few streets, mainly the Azn-intensive ones, were closed off to traffic for some kind of festival ostensibly dedicated to gymnasts acrobats cheerleaders flame-spitters whip-crackers underage-pole-dancers. It was great! The crowd consisted of:

• confused dispossessed Azns;
• folks normally too scared to come to Nthbridge on a w'end night;
• grumpy grr-stupid-street-closure-we-had-to-walk-5min-in-our-heels-and-non-clothing clubbers; and
• tourists (under which category we fell on this occasion, what with our leis and the boys doggy-backing each other [get your mind outta the gutter, not the other kinda doggy-backing] to see the pole dancers).

________ (insert profanity)

~ @ $ ^ * ) ! # % & ( ... wonderful ... fantastic ... juuurrst great. It's Thursday.

I don't want to give the false impression of a history of animosity between me and Thursdays. I quite like the majority of them, in fact. Mid-week drinks, extended retail hours, day-before-the-day-before-the-weekend-ness; no complaints there. But this Thursday? It is really hurting my feelings. By not being Wednesday. And this only dawned on me at 1.45pm (yes pm), as I was getting ready for bed. So y'all can appreciate my distress.

My ingenious plot to attain world domination (through first dominating exams, which is in turn only achieved after intense tireless admirable preparation) has spectacularly backfired on me. I lost a day. Not merely by the more widely used method of arsing-around-procrastinating (though there's been a fair bit of that too). Moreover, through pure inexcusable miscalculation.

Well, almost inexcusable. I blame:

• the meal- / sleep-skipping, which 'lengthened' individual 'days' but reduced them in number;
• lack of superficial social interaction during which the useful topics of Weather, Day-of-Week, Count-down to Looming Exams, etc. would've been thoroughly explored; and
• all the amazing innovative features of my state-of-the-art (albeit Made-in-China) laptop which have desensitised me to that tiny unremarkable ticking box in the bottom right corner of the screen.

I'm so sorry second-in-line Mining & Energy: I'm afraid I shall fail you once again.

precede your reputation

Sorry, another stunningly stale pun. But such is the present ambit of my associative thinking.

First of last exams is 2 or 3 sleeps away. Procedure (get it?) a.k.a. Unit From Hell - according to generations of law students before me, so who am I to argue - is IMHO so dubbed most unjustly. I had a good time in any event.

Much of it owing to the tutor, after whom I shall model myself (except for maybe the baldness and the beer gut and the refusal to switch off mobile in-class) - almost as much as I aspire to become/marry my Constitutional Law / Administrative Law tutor (ahh Hooker [not an alias] - how I hope to cross paths with him again). <= Yes, 2 other subjects widely regarded as dry. <= Yes, am a sucker for academic lads specialising in dry subjects; the dryer the hotter... Hmm that didn't come out right.

JF: How much faith do you have in the decency of your fellow human beings?
Me: Not much.
JF: That's why you're going to be a great lawyer.

I'll take encouragement and affirmation where I can get it.