Friday, February 24, 2006

Revenge of the Susanna

I got tagged by my friend Susanna of Veritas Project. Basically I have to write of five weird habits about myself. Believe it or not, I actually had to have a little think about this, given that what is weird to others may not be weird to me. After some thought, here is my list.

1) I have to wet my hands before I eat. This is especially so when I eat with them (which is quite often). Even if I'm using utensils, it's something I have to do. Why? I don't really know.

2) I don't like to swallow seeds. Apple seeds, watermelon seeds, orange seeds, the lot. It's partly because I don't want to be a seedy guy (ho ho), but more to do with the fact that when I'm young, my grandmother told me that if I eat the seeds, there would be trees and plants growing inside my stomach.

3) I have to drink at least two glasses of water in a row (when I do drink water). For some reason, one is not enough. In particular, I have a full glass of water before I have a meal. I read from an interview with a rugby player that it's a good way to keep yourself from getting dehydrated.

4) I ask questions like "Why is real estate management called real estate management? Is there such a thing as fake estate management?", which I consider to be a good way of digging at the things which we take for granted, the things people don't really think about, but which others consider as stupid.

5) I am lame. I don't think it's weird, actually, but I ran out of habits. And others would classify it as weird.

OK. Have a nice day.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Proud and Prejudiced

"...you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love... I love... I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on."

Mr Darcy, Pride and Prejudice

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Layers, Donkey

It's been a long and tiring day.

I tried my damnest. I tried to hold it all back, but it is threatening to spill out, a dam waiting to burst.

Come on, I thought to myself. You're stronger than this.

It was getting a bit much. I'm in the kitchen, and I am trying to help my grandmother. But it seems just like everything else: the more I try, the more I fail.

I stopped momentarily, hoping that the pause will give me respite.

It didn't. If anything, it feels worse.

The closer I get to the core of the issue at hand, the heavier the tears felt. Now it's on the outside, no longer a metaphorical river, but a literal flow of unconstrained proportions.

I can't hold back.

I went to the sink, and washed my hands thoroughly, making sure that there are no bacterial residues. I want nothing more right now than to bury my face in my hands.

Bloody onions.