With all the advances of modern science, they still haven't been able to come up with a drug that can temporarily numb emotions (as far as I know anyway. If they have, any LEGAL ones, that is, point me to it!!).
Because, you know, with deadlines and finding jobs and finding a place to live and dealing with visas and having to take a writing test that requires a lot of preparation, a girl could sometimes do without those unruly, unwanted emotions. Sometimes, one just needs a little emotional numbage to make it through life. . .
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
Wed's other personality emerges
On Friday, after my plans with Bobbis, Ficali et al. fell through, I settled down with Okia, Mits and Le Dernier Mot to watch the Ms. USA pagent (yes yes I know). LDM was bringing her own girl kitten, ACE (she and Okia found ACE, a little frightened kitten, on the A-C-E subway line, hence the name), and Okia and I were excited at the prospect of reuniting Weds and ACE, who hadn't played together since they were wee little babies. The two have been fixed, so we even entertained the possibility of some romance between them without any undesirable consequences. But it was not to be.
Weds was in the living room, terrorizing poor Mits (he was just being his usually friendly self, you know, but Mits, traumatized as he was by a dog bite when he was little, doesn't take too kindly to friendly animals) when LDM and ACE arrived. LDM let little ACE out of her bag, and we all played with her a bit. I went off to the living room to fetch Weds to re-introduce him to his old friend. He sat serenely as I picked him up and walked down the hallway -- that is, until his eyes landed on ACE. Our little angel instantly turned into a monster. He hissed and snarled, leaped out of my arms, and fled for dear life back to the living room at one end of the hallway. Poor ACE, flustered by this unexpected reaction on the part of her host, sadly scurried off in the opposite direction, deposited herself in between my boxes at the other end of the hallway and refused to emerge all evening long.
Weds refused to come round as well. The spent the evening hiding under the chair, behind the TV, making not a peep (afraid, probably, that any sound he made would be mistaken by his unwelcome guest for a sign of friendliness). Feeling sorry for him at one point, I picked him up and held him in my lap. He sat quietly, but always with a wary eye on the other side of the corridor, where Okia and LDM were, playing with ACE for a bit. As soon as he saw them walking back, he started squirming again, assuming that they were bringing his enemy with them, and only calmed down when he realized that ACE was, in her quiet, demure way, as stubborn as him, and still firmly lodged in between the boxes.
The evening ended, with our hopes for a joyful reunion between the two of them dashed. As Okia, LDM and I were lamenting this, LDM looked on the bright side. "Oh well, I guess it's for the best. Because otherwise, ACE would have been heartbroken when Weds leaves for Japan next month." True, I suppose.
I still gave Weds a stern talking to about his manners and his abominable treatment of his guest after they left, but I'm sure it didn't make much of an impression on our fiesty little feline -- who incidentally, was back to his playful, friendly little self as soon as ACE departed.
Okia and I had thought that Weds was becoming a moody teenager -- because of his occasional penchant for climbing to the top of the highest cabinets in the kitchen and pointedly ignoring us when the mood took him. But I suppose he's still in the pre-teen stage, where girls = eeeewww!
Weds was in the living room, terrorizing poor Mits (he was just being his usually friendly self, you know, but Mits, traumatized as he was by a dog bite when he was little, doesn't take too kindly to friendly animals) when LDM and ACE arrived. LDM let little ACE out of her bag, and we all played with her a bit. I went off to the living room to fetch Weds to re-introduce him to his old friend. He sat serenely as I picked him up and walked down the hallway -- that is, until his eyes landed on ACE. Our little angel instantly turned into a monster. He hissed and snarled, leaped out of my arms, and fled for dear life back to the living room at one end of the hallway. Poor ACE, flustered by this unexpected reaction on the part of her host, sadly scurried off in the opposite direction, deposited herself in between my boxes at the other end of the hallway and refused to emerge all evening long.
Weds refused to come round as well. The spent the evening hiding under the chair, behind the TV, making not a peep (afraid, probably, that any sound he made would be mistaken by his unwelcome guest for a sign of friendliness). Feeling sorry for him at one point, I picked him up and held him in my lap. He sat quietly, but always with a wary eye on the other side of the corridor, where Okia and LDM were, playing with ACE for a bit. As soon as he saw them walking back, he started squirming again, assuming that they were bringing his enemy with them, and only calmed down when he realized that ACE was, in her quiet, demure way, as stubborn as him, and still firmly lodged in between the boxes.
The evening ended, with our hopes for a joyful reunion between the two of them dashed. As Okia, LDM and I were lamenting this, LDM looked on the bright side. "Oh well, I guess it's for the best. Because otherwise, ACE would have been heartbroken when Weds leaves for Japan next month." True, I suppose.
I still gave Weds a stern talking to about his manners and his abominable treatment of his guest after they left, but I'm sure it didn't make much of an impression on our fiesty little feline -- who incidentally, was back to his playful, friendly little self as soon as ACE departed.
Okia and I had thought that Weds was becoming a moody teenager -- because of his occasional penchant for climbing to the top of the highest cabinets in the kitchen and pointedly ignoring us when the mood took him. But I suppose he's still in the pre-teen stage, where girls = eeeewww!
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
A fire alarm. . . but nobody cares. . .
I was blissfully jogging away on the treadmill today, with my i-pod blaring into my ear, when all of a sudden white lights began flashing all over the gym. My first thought was "Oooh, I'm going to be on TV!" But I soon realized that the flashes were coming from fire alarm systems on various walls. "Hmmm," I thought, "I wonder what's going on."
It took me a while to hear the accompanying fire alarm through my music, but, when I finally did, I whipped around in panic, almost getting thrown off the treadmill in the process. But no one else seemed the least bit perturbed by noise, or even reacted to it. The runners around the track continued running, the elliptical people continued their elliptical thing, and the weight lifters continued their lifting. Across the gym, the aerobics class continued as if nothing was happening. Oh well, I thought, I'll just keep running, and if I get burned to a crisp, at least it will be with a 100 other people.
So, the alarm continued clanging away, and I kept running away. Soon I didn't even notice it. Which made me wonder: what if there was a real fire somewhere in the building? Would we all just keep working out, completely oblivious to the impending danger and waiting for someone else to be the first to go running out of the building, until the ceiling came crashing down on us?
It took me a while to hear the accompanying fire alarm through my music, but, when I finally did, I whipped around in panic, almost getting thrown off the treadmill in the process. But no one else seemed the least bit perturbed by noise, or even reacted to it. The runners around the track continued running, the elliptical people continued their elliptical thing, and the weight lifters continued their lifting. Across the gym, the aerobics class continued as if nothing was happening. Oh well, I thought, I'll just keep running, and if I get burned to a crisp, at least it will be with a 100 other people.
So, the alarm continued clanging away, and I kept running away. Soon I didn't even notice it. Which made me wonder: what if there was a real fire somewhere in the building? Would we all just keep working out, completely oblivious to the impending danger and waiting for someone else to be the first to go running out of the building, until the ceiling came crashing down on us?
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
A scary hairy tale
Once upon a time, there was a silly girl named Inihtar, who decided she wanted beautiful long black curly locks. But alas, her hair was straight as a broomstick's sweeper. So, she decided she would take herself off to a hair salon and get her hair permed, so she could achieve her heart's desire. All the warnings of well-wishers, who cautioned that her hair would be fried, and become dry as a desert bush, fell on deaf ears. For our friend Ini had made up her mind and there was no changing it. So off she went to the hair salon and, four hours later, walked out with the curls her heart had so desired.
Fast forward a couple of years: Ini's hair is a sight to behold: the top part is straight and fine; the bottom part, however, is a nightmare: dry, coarse, and split ends galore. So Ini decided she was going to chop off the remainder of the permed hair. And off she went to her favourite hair salon, where when the hair dresser held up the amount she wanted cut, Ini shook her head and said "more" and "more" and "more" again. So clip clip when the scissors, and when the cutting was all done, Ini realized in shock that her hair was half of its original length. She hid her shock, admitted that it didn't look too bad, and took herself off home.
A couple of days later, Ini decided she wanted layers. Her hair was shorter, and she figured this was the time to do it. So, unable to wait once her mind was made up, Ini went off to a nearby hair salon, and asked for layers. Clip clip went the scissors again, and Ini smiled, thanked the hair dresser, and went off home. On the way home, she peered at her reflection in shop windows, and in occasional mirrors, and realized that she wanted more layers in the front.
She decided to fix it herself. She arrived home, picked up a pair of scissors and a newspaper and headed for the bathroom. Snip snip went the scissors for a third time in a week. And the results this time were not so pleasing. Ini had overestimated her ability to fix her hair. Snip snip, went the scissors again, as she tried to make up for the disaster. To no avail.
"This is becoming like the tale of the monkey and the cake*," she told herself. She decided to leave it, pronounced her hair the latest fashion statement, put away her apparatus and went about her work. Ini might, of course, change her mind about the fashion statement, once she starts getting horrified stares, but she will just have to deal with it then, won't she?
*For those readers unfamiliar with the tale of the monkey and the cake, it goes something like this: Two birds had found a piece of cake and wanted to split it between them, but not trusting each other's ability to split it evenly, took it to a monkey to do it for them. The monkey broke the piece in two, then decided one was bigger than the other, and took a bite of the larger piece. Then that piece was smaller, so he took a bite of the other, and so on, until he had eated the entire piece.
Fast forward a couple of years: Ini's hair is a sight to behold: the top part is straight and fine; the bottom part, however, is a nightmare: dry, coarse, and split ends galore. So Ini decided she was going to chop off the remainder of the permed hair. And off she went to her favourite hair salon, where when the hair dresser held up the amount she wanted cut, Ini shook her head and said "more" and "more" and "more" again. So clip clip when the scissors, and when the cutting was all done, Ini realized in shock that her hair was half of its original length. She hid her shock, admitted that it didn't look too bad, and took herself off home.
A couple of days later, Ini decided she wanted layers. Her hair was shorter, and she figured this was the time to do it. So, unable to wait once her mind was made up, Ini went off to a nearby hair salon, and asked for layers. Clip clip went the scissors again, and Ini smiled, thanked the hair dresser, and went off home. On the way home, she peered at her reflection in shop windows, and in occasional mirrors, and realized that she wanted more layers in the front.
She decided to fix it herself. She arrived home, picked up a pair of scissors and a newspaper and headed for the bathroom. Snip snip went the scissors for a third time in a week. And the results this time were not so pleasing. Ini had overestimated her ability to fix her hair. Snip snip, went the scissors again, as she tried to make up for the disaster. To no avail.
"This is becoming like the tale of the monkey and the cake*," she told herself. She decided to leave it, pronounced her hair the latest fashion statement, put away her apparatus and went about her work. Ini might, of course, change her mind about the fashion statement, once she starts getting horrified stares, but she will just have to deal with it then, won't she?
*For those readers unfamiliar with the tale of the monkey and the cake, it goes something like this: Two birds had found a piece of cake and wanted to split it between them, but not trusting each other's ability to split it evenly, took it to a monkey to do it for them. The monkey broke the piece in two, then decided one was bigger than the other, and took a bite of the larger piece. Then that piece was smaller, so he took a bite of the other, and so on, until he had eated the entire piece.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Looking back. . .
I have just realized that, by this time next month, all my classes will be finished. The final version of my last story for by Business and Economics reporting class is due on May 9. The final story for Columbia News Service will be done on April 28. And I have no idea what's happening in my Computer Assisted Reporting class, and don't care much, to be honest.
So, a year. . . somewhat turbulent and horrible at times, but also one where I've learned a great deal, personally, academically and professionally, is coming to an end. I suppose my feelings throughout this year have been primarily negative, mostly because of the sheer stress of depending on others to determine how well I do, and not having the strength of a real publication behind me to lend me some credibility. It's been tough at times. . . heck, most of the time. . . but it's been a sort of baptism by fire. It is one of those experiences that are difficult while going through it, but afterwards, you look back and realize how much it helped you grow. Approaching the end of this year, I am looking back and realizing that I am coming out having learned a lot more than I expected, and prepared to learn a lot more as I go on. In some ways, I'm tougher, both as a person and as a journalist; in others, I'm a lot softer, more empathetic, more aware of the state of affairs in the world, and wanting to make a difference.
For a long time, I lived -- somewhat deludedly -- telling myself, "Je ne regrette rien," perhaps because I did have a lot to regret, but chose not to face it. But now, I accept that there are many things I wish could have done differently during the past year, in school, work and in relationships. . . most of which were within my control. But since there is not much to be done about these, the key is to look forward. I still have one more month, and as I look at my bookshelf full of unread books, the freelance stories I never got around to writing or selling, and the friends I never managed to make -- or managed to lose -- I tell myself. . . I still have a month to do all these things. Will it happen? I don't know. Probably not. But, one can always try. . .
*If you are wondering what the point of this vague post is, I'm not entirely sure myself. Just looking back and randomly reminiscing. . .
So, a year. . . somewhat turbulent and horrible at times, but also one where I've learned a great deal, personally, academically and professionally, is coming to an end. I suppose my feelings throughout this year have been primarily negative, mostly because of the sheer stress of depending on others to determine how well I do, and not having the strength of a real publication behind me to lend me some credibility. It's been tough at times. . . heck, most of the time. . . but it's been a sort of baptism by fire. It is one of those experiences that are difficult while going through it, but afterwards, you look back and realize how much it helped you grow. Approaching the end of this year, I am looking back and realizing that I am coming out having learned a lot more than I expected, and prepared to learn a lot more as I go on. In some ways, I'm tougher, both as a person and as a journalist; in others, I'm a lot softer, more empathetic, more aware of the state of affairs in the world, and wanting to make a difference.
For a long time, I lived -- somewhat deludedly -- telling myself, "Je ne regrette rien," perhaps because I did have a lot to regret, but chose not to face it. But now, I accept that there are many things I wish could have done differently during the past year, in school, work and in relationships. . . most of which were within my control. But since there is not much to be done about these, the key is to look forward. I still have one more month, and as I look at my bookshelf full of unread books, the freelance stories I never got around to writing or selling, and the friends I never managed to make -- or managed to lose -- I tell myself. . . I still have a month to do all these things. Will it happen? I don't know. Probably not. But, one can always try. . .
*If you are wondering what the point of this vague post is, I'm not entirely sure myself. Just looking back and randomly reminiscing. . .
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