Friday, November 18, 2005

Java Chip Frappuccinos

Here's my first attempt at a 50-word story!

This story was inspired during a long walk from Terminal 2 to Terminal 1 in Chicago O'Hare airport. There's a pretty interesting neon light sculpture in the tunnel linking those 2 terminals. The lights range from green to orange to purple. The whole thing is hanging above the walk-alator so you can look up at it. And there's some sort of music playing. It's one of those things that is supposed to have a very 'deep' meaning. Anyway, I was walking on the walk-alator, holding a Starbucks coffee, and suddenly thought of this story. Not very nice one la, but hey, can't expect much from an exhausted person waiting for her 4th delayed flight in 2 days.

I read that there's a competition by some newspaper (I think it's New York Times, but am not sure). This competition asks people to submit stories that are 50 and ONLY 50 words long, then the best stories are published. I read 2 examples, they are very very good. It is so hard to write concisely while retaining every point you want to make. Which is why the story below has a lot of missing points.

Btw, the story was not meant to be 50 words long only. But then I got tired of the story halfway through, ran out of ideas and decided people might ask me questions about it if it was too detailed. Plus I don't want another story as long as 'Elena-the-witch'. So anyway, after a super long-winded explanation of my story, here goes...


She loved Frappuccinos. He drank Espressos only and disliked Frappuccinos. They met in New York. A month later, she fell for him. He was attached, so she left for San Francisco. She couldn't forget him. She started drinking Espressos for the memories. One day they met again.

He was holding a Frappuccino.


Yes yes, corny I know.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

风中的哀悼

后来还是走了。

一时狠下心来, 说走就走。

或许忙得什么都没时间想, 所以我的决定能坚持到现在。

也或许没有时间, 所以还没有好好的哀悼一下。

我自己觉得过得还好, 可是却会在外面径自发呆。

脾气比平时还要难以捉摸, 一时沉默寡言, 一时又很多话。

你还会习惯性地在晚上跟我说声晚安。

有些话我们不说了, 可时彼此还没到客客气气寒嘘几句的地步。

我想, 我还会依靠你, 直到你自己放手的那一天。

我们用泪用心用坚持换回来的点点滴滴, 如今就记忆在我们心中。

你走进我生活的第一天, 犹如往湖中间丢了一粒小石子。

波澜慢慢往外移, 我的规律也慢慢变。

但和最后又恢复平静的湖不一样的, 是从此我不会变回以前的我。

我永远都爱你, 只是我不是爱情万能主义者。

也许多几个月, 我们又会在一起了。

可是我有一种感觉, 有一天, 我们还是会分的。

四年的风风雨雨, 分分离离,注定了我们的生活永远都会纠缠着。

因为我们是两只跳不完舞的蝴蝶。

Friday, October 28, 2005

Grumble Grumble

So here I am, doing my Statistics homework in Excel without much grumbling. Completing assignments minus complaints or throwing tantrums is a rare occasion, my roommate can easily tell you that.

I started on this noble task around 9 pm. 3 questions to do, brain thinks: "hmm.. probably can finish this before body sleeps tonight." Right? WRONG!!

It is now 11.30 pm, guess how many questions have I done? 1st question finished, and 1/3 way through the 2nd one. :'(

After 1 hour of struggling with 2nd question part (i), I'm finally done.

Brain thinks again: "finally!! Ok, that stupid part (i) is done, finally can move on to part (ii)!!"

Hands grab textbook, fingers flip to correct page.

Eyes proceed to read: (ii) REPEAT PART (i) for equation (8.18)."

:S

Mouth announce that it's time for bed. Head nods.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Elena the witch

Fall break ended on Tuesday midnight last week. One of the better breaks I had, it was relaxing but not boring. If I have to be picky, I'd say it was a bit too short for my taste. But good things are better appreciated in small doses, no?

My boyfriend came over to spend Fall break with me. Our 'reunion' was done under extremely sleepy circumstances. Probably not the smartest thing to do, I stayed up till 4.30 am before going to bed, got a call from him at 6 am saying he'll be arriving in an hour, went right back to sleep at 6.01 am, and was abruptly woken up at 7 am after 22 missed calls. Yup, the day was barely awake and so was I.

I'm not gonna tell you everything we did in Fall break. :P But I will tell you the fun-nest thing we did was..... *drum rolls please* .......... carving pumpkins!!


The full moon is shining brightly. A few wisps of clouds are trying desperately to hide the moonlight, causing dancing shadows across the meadow. This meadow is no longer filled with lush grass, instead it is yellow, the yellow of dead grass and arid soil. No children come here to play anymore. No young couples stroll through the field. No happy squirrels scamper around searching for food. For it is rumored that at the edge of the meadow where the forest eagerly swallows all light, an evil witch resides.

In a village over the hill of Yorkshire, hungry wolves are gobbling up the last remains of a farmer's wife's prized chickens. She weeps over the chickens who gave her fresh eggs everyday, not knowing that on the other side of the field, werewolves are feasting on the poor farmer himself. Their howls can be heard for miles, bringing shivers down the villagers' spines.

Sitting on a stool, Elena murmurs indistinct words under her breath. She keeps looking around her hut, as though someone should appear at any moment now. "Stop kidding yourself, Elena", she thinks, "who would be here at such an ungodly hour?" Indeed, noone would. Not just because it's past midnight, but because everyone thinks she's the witch.

Elena always finds it amusing that people think she has supernatural powers. How she wish she does. Unfortunately, what she has are not magical abilities, but an intellectual mind and a deep knowledge of chemistry. The ignorant villagers claim that she brews lethal potions in her hut, chanting spells over her cauldron. Elena laughs. True, what she 'brews' can be called 'potions' if people must, but they are hardly lethal. At least not lethal enough to kill off the werewolves thus far.

The thought of werewolves causes Elena to sigh deeply. Her thoughts begin to move back through time...

When she was eleven years old, Elena was mauled by a werewolf. Thankfully she was not bitten, but the werewolf's sharp claws left a permanent scar on her pretty face. As she grew older, Elena blossomed into a beautiful young lady, but only if people looked at her right profile. She grew used to the gasps and horrorstruck faces that inevitably came each time she turned her head. Unsympathetic people ostracized her and children either ran away or hurled rocks whenever she was around. Soon, Elena preferred to be alone, at least her mind did not desert her.

Alone in her own world, Elena devoured book after book. She was fascinated by science, and obsessed with chemistry. Desertion made her empathize with other people who were similarly ostracized. Oddly, instead of harboring deep loathing for werewolves, she pitied them. They were innocent people forced to endure one night of violence and bloodthirst each month. Elena was determined to find a cure for them...

It's been months since she first arrived in Yorkshire, and still she was no closer to finding a cure for the werewolves. Every ingredient she could think of has been tested. Despair is seeping through her once optimistic mind. Time is ticking against her, she knows that every full moon that passes by means one more chance for the werewolves to discover her hiding place.

But Elena will not give up. At the top of the hill, a special flower blooms, but it is jealously guarded by the villagers. Instinct tells her she needs the flower, yet it is impossible to steal, and even more impossible to ask the villagers for it. She has been thinking about her dilemma for weeks. What should she do?

Sometimes, the best solution appears in the most unexpected manner. A few days ago, a villager stumbled upon her hut. Abraham was out hunting and injured himself by stepping on a deer trap. Elena tended to his wounds and soon an unlikely friendship began. She realized he was different from most villagers. Inquisitive and intelligent, he found out about her chemical experiments and was willing to help. To prevent the werewolves from locating her hiding place, Elena asked Abraham not to reveal her identity and intentions until they met the village leader.

Tomorrow morning they will meet the leader. Elena is excited and apprehensive. It's been very long since she last visited a village and she hopes she will not feel awkward during the meeting. Unable to sleep, she softly rehearses her little speech over and over again. "This is my chance", she thinks, "soon I'll find a cure". Elena smiles when she pictures Abraham chattering excitedly about their future experiments. She knows he has a lot of faith in her, and she knows she has finally found someone whose impression of a person's character is more than skin deep.

But she doesn't know that at this very moment, in a farm on Yorkshire where a woman weeps over her poultry, the werewolves are having a feast. A feast on her dear friend Abraham.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Silent Reflections in O'Hare

WARNING: The following paragraphs are a series of unrelated and possibly incoherent thoughts, connected only by the fact that they came one after another during a 2 1/2 hour wait for my delayed flight this afternoon.

Sometimes I wonder what people think of me when they read my blog. This holds especially for people who are complete strangers or who have not been in touch with me for a long long time. Do you see a girl who's enjoying or suffering through her emotional rollercoaster ride? Do you see a girl who's choking over all her choices or revelling in them? Do you imagine a girl who's so unsure of herself that she has to keep asking people what they think? Or do you see a girl who's notoriously bad at ending her stories? So much so that I'm not gonna finish the Hawk story. :P Well no, that's not the real reason. Not the point here anyway.

In all the infrequent occasions when I blog, I rarely mention my internship, my school life or even my daily life in general. You may know that I love using metaphors, but do you know what my major is or what I do on weekends? Probably not.

I realize I act and talk differently with different groups of people. This is not the so-called 'adapting to the environment' kind of thing. More like I hide who I really am and become this quiet, softspoken, serious person. I don't know where that person came from, but I've seen her. And it's not just at places where everyone else is being polite and serious too. I wish it didn't take me soooooooooooo much time before I get used to people and be who I really am.

I've met a lot of great people. People who I really really want to get to know well, and yet there seems to be a barrier between us. Most of the time I think this barrier is my own reluctance to open up, but how do I break it down? I want to be good friends with you, but you have to make the first move. Please.

I went to Chicago yesterday afternoon and returned to Des Moines tonight. We played whirlyball, defined by someone as 'bumper car meets basketball meets lacrosse'. Btw, any M'sians out there know what 'Lai Lai' is? It's similar to lacrosse and supposedly a very popular sport in M'sia. Why have I NEVER heard of it??

Whirlyball was so fun!! My neck is a little sore though, now it hurts when I twist it to the left. I kept getting jolted and bumped from behind by people with fast cars. A few times I was pretty sure I was this close to breaking my neck. Hehe. Luckily, I learned to look around every 5 seconds to make sure noone's planning another ambush. It was great fun though. :D

Btw, I met Daniel Radcliffe today. Name sounds familiar? It's the guy who played Harry Potter! Haha, he looked like Doraemon's friend though. I think his name is Nobita. And I told Daniel so.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

3 secrets for better sex appeal

And now, I present to all men: 3 secrets to increase your sex appeal ... erm ok.. to me at least.

Do I hear groans that I, a gal, is asking for the impossible again? I'm not talking about stuff guys can't or won't do. None of the lovey-dovey stuff like planning a romantic candlelight dinner or sweeping us off our feet with a well-planned surprise. Nor am I telling you to be considerate and sensitive to our needs, listen to us when we talk, and all that blah. Nope, I am talking about 3 things you can ACTUALLY do.

So on to the first-secret-you-wish-you-knew-earlier...

1. Know how to play pool, and play it the right way.

I don't know why, but there is just something oh-so-sexy about a guy who's good at "playing with a stick and balls". Haha. Guess where I got that phrase from? Ok, before you move on to the next "secret", it is real impressive when you can pot balls like nobody's business.

Bonus: Go a step higher, and play snooker!

2. Play an instrument.

A man who can strum a guitar and sing while looking deeply into my eyes. A man indeed. :) Better yet, playing in a band is even more attractive. And you don't have to be the lead singer of a rock band or be a suave crooner. The brooding silent lead guitarist is just, if not more, appealing.

3. Drive fast and furious with a manual shift.

I love watching a guy drive with a stick shift. Watch him rev up to 140 km. Watch him shift gears in almost split second motions from 5th gear to first. It's not just the exhilaration or the excitement from driving fast. It's that feeling of knowing he's in control.

These 3 secrets were inspired from a routine walk back to my apartment after class. Along the way, I saw 2 guys playing pool in the GK lounge. (GK is another dorm.) I don't remember the guys' faces anymore, so these tricks are not fail-proof.

And if all else fails, that romantic candlelight dinner certainly helps. =P

Monday, September 26, 2005

是谁?

趁我不注意时,在平静的湖里激起了一波又一波。

一阵浪涛澎湃后, 又用小石子掀起美丽的浪花。

是谁?

在不知不觉中, 钻进思路的每一个分叉点。

太阳底下, 处处可见一个熟悉的影子。

是谁?

待我从梦里醒过, 却又带我回到九霄云外。

让我攀到戴 “雪帽” 的山顶上, 但也把我抛下不见底的山谷里。

是你。

当我以为我已看清自己, 又让我重新自省一番。

拉开了丝帘, 展露了不曾见过的一面。

是你。

明白我说的话, 更了解我不说的话。

知道我想要什么, 更懂得我需要什么。

是你。

永远都是你。