This has been a great weekend!
Thursday, went clubbing in SF with Jenn. Had a decent time.
Friday, went clubbing in Palo Alto at Rudy's. Went alone since I was just in a mood to have a drink. Well, what do you know. Grabbed a beer, liked the music, started dancing.
Saturday, went (you guessed it) clubbing again! Had dinner with Terry at Crustacean, went to 111 Minna, and clubbed. Coincidentally, saw Yuni and Vivian there too. I always seem to bump into him. Bumped into him the last time at 1015 as well. And the guy says he never clubs. YEAH RIGHT.
Sunday, restarted my tae kwondo class. I had 2 newcomers join the class, Jeff and Sonja. Both of them are beginners. Jenn and Kiat used to be at their level. Now I look at the relative skill level between them and I marvel at how far Jenn and Kiat have come. I feel proud of them.
Other misc things I accomplished this weekend...
- sent all my stuff for dry cleaning
- swapped out the power supply for my PS2
- cleaned up my room
- hooked up my DVD player
My legs ache from too much exercise this weekend. My tummy aches a little where Jenn hit it last night. And my arms feel like they'll drop off. But all in all, I had a fantastic weekend!
Monday, April 07, 2003
Friday, April 04, 2003
Cat Club
My buddy and I went to the Cat Club in SF. It's 80s party night. I don't usually go to 80s clubs, but I'll try anything once, and most things twice. I was in one of those moods. Good mood. Great mood even. Very playful mood. Red long sleeved V neck. Black jeans. Knee length leather jacket. Spiked and sprayed a little blue in my hair. My buddy Jenn picked me up at my place. I was a little late, so he just hung out in my room while I dolled up. He was watching a new DVD he just bought - Baise Moi (bonus points if you've watched it or heard of it).
So anyway, we eventually got on the road. Well, kind of. Two minutes after leaving my place, he said he wants coffee but he's too cheap to spend on a Starbuck's and he doesn't want crappy gas station coffee. Like I said, I was in a great mood, so I told him I'd treat. The gal working at the neighbourhood Starbucks knows us. The conversation goes like this:
Jenn: Hey.
Her: Hey.
*She scribbles XHWCM on a cup and then looks at me*
Me: Same thing.
I love it. She scribbles XHWCM (bonus point for knowing what that means) on two cups, we pay, get our coffee and leave.
Fast forward to the club. I've been dancing for an hour. This girl dancing next to me is swinging her arms like a windmill and her hand whacks me in the face. She turns to me, leans over and yell "I'm so sorry".
Me: How sorry is that?
Her: Extreeeemely sorry
Me: Not good enough!
She holds my hand, kneels down, and starts kissing my fingers. Her friend sees her doing that, probably thinks she's giving me a blowjob or something, has this absolutely horrified stricken look on her face, grabs her and pulls her away. At this point, I crack up so bad that I am kneeling down clutching my sides. That face was absolutely to die for.
Fast forward again. It's 2am. We're heading home. Only problem, our car is parked probably 3 or 4 blocks away, and it's absolutely pouring. I'm not talking about pouring here. I'm talking POURING. So we run. And run. And run. And it's not easy to run in boots. Boots aren't meant for running. However, it does seem that boots are meant to retain water. My feet felt like they were in a fish tank.
So anyway, we eventually got on the road. Well, kind of. Two minutes after leaving my place, he said he wants coffee but he's too cheap to spend on a Starbuck's and he doesn't want crappy gas station coffee. Like I said, I was in a great mood, so I told him I'd treat. The gal working at the neighbourhood Starbucks knows us. The conversation goes like this:
Jenn: Hey.
Her: Hey.
*She scribbles XHWCM on a cup and then looks at me*
Me: Same thing.
I love it. She scribbles XHWCM (bonus point for knowing what that means) on two cups, we pay, get our coffee and leave.
Fast forward to the club. I've been dancing for an hour. This girl dancing next to me is swinging her arms like a windmill and her hand whacks me in the face. She turns to me, leans over and yell "I'm so sorry".
Me: How sorry is that?
Her: Extreeeemely sorry
Me: Not good enough!
She holds my hand, kneels down, and starts kissing my fingers. Her friend sees her doing that, probably thinks she's giving me a blowjob or something, has this absolutely horrified stricken look on her face, grabs her and pulls her away. At this point, I crack up so bad that I am kneeling down clutching my sides. That face was absolutely to die for.
Fast forward again. It's 2am. We're heading home. Only problem, our car is parked probably 3 or 4 blocks away, and it's absolutely pouring. I'm not talking about pouring here. I'm talking POURING. So we run. And run. And run. And it's not easy to run in boots. Boots aren't meant for running. However, it does seem that boots are meant to retain water. My feet felt like they were in a fish tank.
Thursday, March 20, 2003
In memory of my grandmother, Lui Lan Hee by Alwyn Lau
Original version here:
http://www.angelfire.com/journal/althehare/ahma.html
I am creating this page in case angelfire.com ever goes down...
-----
In memory of my grandmother, Lui Lan Hee, lovingly known as Ah Ma to this grandson of hers…
I remember how she would always be the first one to arrive at the appointed meeting place, always holding either a bottle of freshly brewed herbal tea or fruits, meant for my week in Singapore. How, when I approached her, she would lift her hand to me, beckoning me to carry her up (her inability to do so herself with ease being a price she pays for sitting down a good half-hour ahead of the rendezvous time). And we would exchange our usual (but much enjoyed) banter, me telling her how young and strong she looks, she asking me how my week was, interspersed with complaints about the state of my shoes, my hair, my shirt, my face. We would then go for the Main (Only?) Event – lunch (or, on occasion, dinner) – she having already in mind a venue, me just tagging along. Then she’d grab my hand (or I hers, hard to tell) and we’d walk, a slow stroll, straight to where the chow was. We didn’t stop very often to look at discounts or unusual/cool things; my granny wasn’t much the shopping type (not even window).
We’d eat, sometimes I bought, sometimes she did; most times we ordered too much. And then we’d take our slow stroll back to the place where we’d say goodbye and promised to see each other again two Saturdays later (notwithstanding a mahjong session for her).
These special weekends were made occasionally even more special by an invitation to her place (a small one-bedroom flat shared with two other women and a blind poodle which barked at every not-invented-here sound or smell). I would arrive to always find her sitting, waiting for me, asking why I took so long and premonitioning that lunch (or, on occasion, dinner) is getting cold. It would always be absolutely sumptuous with two dishes minimum. And, yet again, before I left there would either be a packet of herbal drinks or fruits packed and ready to go (which, I confess, I didn’t always finish).
She’d call me frequently during my fortnightly stays in Toa Payoh; she made no secret of her desire to spend time with me, to share those much-cherished meals (she didn’t eat out that often), to groan about life ‘in general’, to scrutinize the ordinary.
But this was a year ago…
About a week earlier she held my hand for the last time; she stroked my face, a few final touches. A few days later, she couldn’t recognize me anymore, shortly after which she lost completely all physical interfaces with the world beyond her mind.
She died tonight. Barely five minutes after my arrival at the nursing home, hardly three minutes after I held her yet warm – though motionless – hand. Maybe she was waiting for my last visit, postponing her final breath till I was next to her. Or maybe it was a coincidence. I would love to know it was the former, but my grief depends not on either.
And as I’ve been trying for the past week to hold in my tears (I can hold them back no longer, though), I think of the simple love she showed me. And how her death has left me with the loss of a dear, sweet friend.
She didn’t always have the best ideas, only the most excited ones. She didn’t necessarily have the least selfish motives, only some of the most selflessly hospitable ones I’ve ever seen. She wasn’t all that appreciative of life, but she did exude a kind of caring not needful of appreciation.
How I wish I could go back in time, to those weekend outings I had with her…in Aljunied, in Tiong Bahru, in Sogo, in Chinatown, even in Starbucks (where she had the one and only latte in her life, I think). These are now memorials in my mind, always.
I will never forget you, Ah Ma…how I wish I could walk you across the road again…and hear you nag me…I miss you dearly…you have been and are still deeply loved and cherished…and I will always look forward to that day we see each other again, and we dance and laugh together in the light and love of our Lord, who loves you more than I ever can, and whose warmth and caring I have felt from you.
Alwyn Lau
28th July 2002
http://www.angelfire.com/journal/althehare/ahma.html
I am creating this page in case angelfire.com ever goes down...
-----
In memory of my grandmother, Lui Lan Hee, lovingly known as Ah Ma to this grandson of hers…
I remember how she would always be the first one to arrive at the appointed meeting place, always holding either a bottle of freshly brewed herbal tea or fruits, meant for my week in Singapore. How, when I approached her, she would lift her hand to me, beckoning me to carry her up (her inability to do so herself with ease being a price she pays for sitting down a good half-hour ahead of the rendezvous time). And we would exchange our usual (but much enjoyed) banter, me telling her how young and strong she looks, she asking me how my week was, interspersed with complaints about the state of my shoes, my hair, my shirt, my face. We would then go for the Main (Only?) Event – lunch (or, on occasion, dinner) – she having already in mind a venue, me just tagging along. Then she’d grab my hand (or I hers, hard to tell) and we’d walk, a slow stroll, straight to where the chow was. We didn’t stop very often to look at discounts or unusual/cool things; my granny wasn’t much the shopping type (not even window).
We’d eat, sometimes I bought, sometimes she did; most times we ordered too much. And then we’d take our slow stroll back to the place where we’d say goodbye and promised to see each other again two Saturdays later (notwithstanding a mahjong session for her).
These special weekends were made occasionally even more special by an invitation to her place (a small one-bedroom flat shared with two other women and a blind poodle which barked at every not-invented-here sound or smell). I would arrive to always find her sitting, waiting for me, asking why I took so long and premonitioning that lunch (or, on occasion, dinner) is getting cold. It would always be absolutely sumptuous with two dishes minimum. And, yet again, before I left there would either be a packet of herbal drinks or fruits packed and ready to go (which, I confess, I didn’t always finish).
She’d call me frequently during my fortnightly stays in Toa Payoh; she made no secret of her desire to spend time with me, to share those much-cherished meals (she didn’t eat out that often), to groan about life ‘in general’, to scrutinize the ordinary.
But this was a year ago…
About a week earlier she held my hand for the last time; she stroked my face, a few final touches. A few days later, she couldn’t recognize me anymore, shortly after which she lost completely all physical interfaces with the world beyond her mind.
She died tonight. Barely five minutes after my arrival at the nursing home, hardly three minutes after I held her yet warm – though motionless – hand. Maybe she was waiting for my last visit, postponing her final breath till I was next to her. Or maybe it was a coincidence. I would love to know it was the former, but my grief depends not on either.
And as I’ve been trying for the past week to hold in my tears (I can hold them back no longer, though), I think of the simple love she showed me. And how her death has left me with the loss of a dear, sweet friend.
She didn’t always have the best ideas, only the most excited ones. She didn’t necessarily have the least selfish motives, only some of the most selflessly hospitable ones I’ve ever seen. She wasn’t all that appreciative of life, but she did exude a kind of caring not needful of appreciation.
How I wish I could go back in time, to those weekend outings I had with her…in Aljunied, in Tiong Bahru, in Sogo, in Chinatown, even in Starbucks (where she had the one and only latte in her life, I think). These are now memorials in my mind, always.
I will never forget you, Ah Ma…how I wish I could walk you across the road again…and hear you nag me…I miss you dearly…you have been and are still deeply loved and cherished…and I will always look forward to that day we see each other again, and we dance and laugh together in the light and love of our Lord, who loves you more than I ever can, and whose warmth and caring I have felt from you.
Alwyn Lau
28th July 2002
Sunday, March 16, 2003
Alwyn's Wedding
An account of my Saturday (15 March 03)...
Midnight - Accompany Al and his friends to the net cafe to play Half Life. As expected, I get my ass handed to me raw and bleeding. What could I expect? Those guys are hard core HalfLifers. I'm a casual once-a-year kinda player.
2.00am - Had enough of getting fragged, so we head out for supper. We're all really tired, and we all have to be up early the next morning for the wedding, so it's a relatively quick supper and we split for home.
4.00am - I finally get in bed. Ready to knock out. After all, I have to be up at 7.30 the "next day".
4.30am - Al sends me an SMS saying thanks for the wedding present just as I'm about to fall asleep. I message him saying why the heck are you still up??
5.00am - I finally fall asleep. :)
7.30am - Alarm rings. My first thought is, shit I need more sleep. I drag myself out of bed, go through the motions of brushing my teeth, gelling my hair, putting on my nice shirt and slacks.
7.45am - Damn, my shirt looks kinda crumped. Need to iron the darn thing. Scrabble around to find an iron and an ironing board.
8.15am - Finally leave for Al's house. I'm supposed to meet up there with a bunch of Al's other guy friends, and we're going to do the door banging ceremony at the bride's place.
9.15am - We get to Chrissy's (the bride) place. There's a squad of Chrissy's girlfriends whose sole goal in life right now is to make it hard for us to get Chrissy out of the house. The battle lines are drawn... First, we have to eat some weird kinda cake with chilli sauce. Then we had to drink a very bitter drink (turns out this was just very concentrated tea). Then we had to eat some kinda weird fried pancake with mustard and eggs and banana. Al had to answer some weird questions abt Chrissy. But we finally gained entrace to the house. To gain entrace to her room, Al had to say "I Love You" in eight languages and to ask Chrissy to marry him in Hokchew (which he doesn't speak).
9.45am - Well, the ordeal is finally over. Chrissy is now liberated from her room. The guys and gals congregate for some breakfast, courtesy of Chrissy's parents, in the dining room. Then we head to church to prepare for the wedding. Al will go first, and Chrissy will go a little later when the guests are ready.
10.00am - The guests are streaming in. Pastor Thomas is walking around kidding with us. Pastor is a good friend of Alwyn's and they frequently go frag each other. Or as Pastor says "meet in the yard".
11.00am - Guests are almost all here. So Alex (one of Al's friends) gives Don (the chauffeur who is driving Chrissy to church) the thumbs up and Don drives the bride in.
*** MORE ON THE ACTUAL WEDDING SERVICE LATER ***
I'm really tired of writing this now, so I'll save this and finish writing this later. :)
1.00pm - Lunch reception
2.00pm - Lunch reception over, go home
3.00pm - Email speech script to Kong Kee
4.00pm - Get call from my friend (Shih Lene). We arrange to go clubbing that night.
5.30pm - Wake up, time to get dressed in my nice suit.
6.30pm - Arrive at dinner restaurant.
8.15pm - Dinner starts
11.00pm - Dinner ends
11.30pm - Meet Shih Lene and Sook San
5.00am - Get home and fall dead asleep
Midnight - Accompany Al and his friends to the net cafe to play Half Life. As expected, I get my ass handed to me raw and bleeding. What could I expect? Those guys are hard core HalfLifers. I'm a casual once-a-year kinda player.
2.00am - Had enough of getting fragged, so we head out for supper. We're all really tired, and we all have to be up early the next morning for the wedding, so it's a relatively quick supper and we split for home.
4.00am - I finally get in bed. Ready to knock out. After all, I have to be up at 7.30 the "next day".
4.30am - Al sends me an SMS saying thanks for the wedding present just as I'm about to fall asleep. I message him saying why the heck are you still up??
5.00am - I finally fall asleep. :)
7.30am - Alarm rings. My first thought is, shit I need more sleep. I drag myself out of bed, go through the motions of brushing my teeth, gelling my hair, putting on my nice shirt and slacks.
7.45am - Damn, my shirt looks kinda crumped. Need to iron the darn thing. Scrabble around to find an iron and an ironing board.
8.15am - Finally leave for Al's house. I'm supposed to meet up there with a bunch of Al's other guy friends, and we're going to do the door banging ceremony at the bride's place.
9.15am - We get to Chrissy's (the bride) place. There's a squad of Chrissy's girlfriends whose sole goal in life right now is to make it hard for us to get Chrissy out of the house. The battle lines are drawn... First, we have to eat some weird kinda cake with chilli sauce. Then we had to drink a very bitter drink (turns out this was just very concentrated tea). Then we had to eat some kinda weird fried pancake with mustard and eggs and banana. Al had to answer some weird questions abt Chrissy. But we finally gained entrace to the house. To gain entrace to her room, Al had to say "I Love You" in eight languages and to ask Chrissy to marry him in Hokchew (which he doesn't speak).
9.45am - Well, the ordeal is finally over. Chrissy is now liberated from her room. The guys and gals congregate for some breakfast, courtesy of Chrissy's parents, in the dining room. Then we head to church to prepare for the wedding. Al will go first, and Chrissy will go a little later when the guests are ready.
10.00am - The guests are streaming in. Pastor Thomas is walking around kidding with us. Pastor is a good friend of Alwyn's and they frequently go frag each other. Or as Pastor says "meet in the yard".
11.00am - Guests are almost all here. So Alex (one of Al's friends) gives Don (the chauffeur who is driving Chrissy to church) the thumbs up and Don drives the bride in.
*** MORE ON THE ACTUAL WEDDING SERVICE LATER ***
I'm really tired of writing this now, so I'll save this and finish writing this later. :)
1.00pm - Lunch reception
2.00pm - Lunch reception over, go home
3.00pm - Email speech script to Kong Kee
4.00pm - Get call from my friend (Shih Lene). We arrange to go clubbing that night.
5.30pm - Wake up, time to get dressed in my nice suit.
6.30pm - Arrive at dinner restaurant.
8.15pm - Dinner starts
11.00pm - Dinner ends
11.30pm - Meet Shih Lene and Sook San
5.00am - Get home and fall dead asleep
Monday, February 24, 2003
Creepy dream
I dreamed about this during my afternoon nap this afternoon. I wonder what it means, if anything at all...
I was in my mum's room. I vaguely remember that the room was very large, and pretty much empty. There were 3 big glass windows on each side of the room. Each window had a large glass window pane that swung open on vertical hinges.
I heard a train's whistle blowing, so I went to the 1st window to see if there was a train. There was nothing outside the 1st window. There may have been a field of some sort, but I can't really recall.
So I went to the 2nd window and looked out. There was a train yard with a few trains, but none of them were moving. The train yard looked old. The trains were brownish (rusty perhaps?) and looked somewhat neglected, and like they had seen better years. I think there were two trains, or perhaps there were 3. Once again, I can't be absolutely sure. Anyway, there didn't seem like there was anything interesting there, so I went to the 3rd window.
There was nothing outside the 3rd window. But when I looked at the glass in the 3rd window pane, I could see the reflection of a train moving through the train yard. It seemed like it was moving from the left side of the window pane to the right side. I never saw the head or the tail ends of the train, only the middle sections. I turned back to the second window and looked, and there was nothing moving at all...
I was in my mum's room. I vaguely remember that the room was very large, and pretty much empty. There were 3 big glass windows on each side of the room. Each window had a large glass window pane that swung open on vertical hinges.
I heard a train's whistle blowing, so I went to the 1st window to see if there was a train. There was nothing outside the 1st window. There may have been a field of some sort, but I can't really recall.
So I went to the 2nd window and looked out. There was a train yard with a few trains, but none of them were moving. The train yard looked old. The trains were brownish (rusty perhaps?) and looked somewhat neglected, and like they had seen better years. I think there were two trains, or perhaps there were 3. Once again, I can't be absolutely sure. Anyway, there didn't seem like there was anything interesting there, so I went to the 3rd window.
There was nothing outside the 3rd window. But when I looked at the glass in the 3rd window pane, I could see the reflection of a train moving through the train yard. It seemed like it was moving from the left side of the window pane to the right side. I never saw the head or the tail ends of the train, only the middle sections. I turned back to the second window and looked, and there was nothing moving at all...
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