Ahh, BodyPump... finally! =)

I went for my first BodyPump class today, after countless months of not getting to do it during the whole my-spine-got-botched-thingy. Darn, I can't even remember without checking my old workout logs, when my last BodyPump class was. (Although I somehow do remember it was the Thursday class and I had like 10kg for the chest track... hmm.) That was a looooong time ago.

So back to today. I loved, loved, loved the class! Both today's class and BodyPump in general.

I have a thing for BodyPump. It always makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside =)

(The fact that I still think triceps push-ups on toes are torture is besides the point.)

I'm tempted to go for tomorrow's class. If the DOMS doesn't kill me when I crawl out of bed tomorrow morning, that is :P

I knew it. Get back to one BodyPump class and once again I'm hooked. I get into the whole "Oh how I missed those barbells and plates!" followed by various sentences gushing about the programme, which will eventually lead to "I wanna pile on more weights..."

As if you didn't see that one coming, LOL.

So now I'll have to constantly repeat (silently of course, duh) the whole "gotta take it slow" (which to me, is no small feat) mantra. See, I KNEW this would happen. I go for one class and that's it, I'm hooked. I can already hear the lil nosy voice at the back of my mind saying "I told you so!"

I can almost smell the whole situation that's about to come... the following weeks are gonna revolve around the internal dialogue along the lines of...

"Off to the gym. I feel like going for BodyPump today!"

"...but I gotta go for yoga *tone gets a lil less chirpy* because Dr. Aaron says I gotta keep up the thrice-weekly yoga/pilates/taichi."

"...but I feel like going for Pump. I miss those barbells and plates..."

Ahh, nevermind the fact that I can't totally live every gym-day immersed in BodyPump (YET!). Gotta keep up the core-stuff. Else if my spine pulls a fast one on me, it'll so chip at my sanity to be weights-deprived again and I'd go out of my mind then.

I must, I must remember to remind myself to not go too crazy with the nifty stuff just yet... gotta take it easy... gotta take it easy...

Darn, I'm happy to get back to BodyPump. Insanely happy. Unbelievable. That class to me is like a drug. Oh, I'll go ahead and use the L-word. This ain't just an addiction... It's love, as I like to call it =)

Happy Birthday, Liz! A year wiser but none the older... *grins*

Today's is my best friend Liz's birthday. So this post's dedicated to her. Oh yes, before I start...

Happy Birthday Liz! =)

I should be writing something card-ish but I'm useless when it comes to wishes. So instead, I'm doing...

Pauline's 12 Random Facts 'n' Stuff - A LBirthday Dedication-Thingy For Liz.

1. We've known each other for like, 15 years. Dagnabbit, that's 1.5 decades. Liz, we're getting oldddd :P

2. We used to sing karaoke of really old songs which I never even knew. Like, "To Sir With Love", gosh.

3. We almost did a singing presentation for Teachers' Day. She's always thankful that we did not do it. I secretly thought it was a darn waste we didn't. (Liz, now you know, heehee =P)

4. She's outspoken, genuine, and remains true to herself amidst the people-pleasers and hypocrites so abundant in today's world. Some people just don't get her, which to me is their loss. Because I think she's got some of the most important qualities any person should have.

5. The last I saw her was in 2002. That's ages ago. Now I feel guilty.

6. She's an ectomorph. She's ALWAYS complaining about how she doesn't gain weight, but I know many girls who'd willingly shave 20 years off their lives to have Liz's ability to eat french fries and not gain a pound. Liz, do you know how many hours I work my endo-mesomorph body into the ground at the gym, and I still do not get to eat cheesecake like you do? See, reasons for you to be optimistic :D

7. She used to like that Ballade Pour Adeline song by whom she calls "Richard Keladi-Man" and wanted to play it on the piano. Methinks she could definitely take up playing the piano/keyboards because she tried playing my piano at my house and I think she's got potential.

8. She's an eternal grinch at Christmas and every other major occasion. We have this annual routine of: (1) Wish each other Merry Christmas (2) Then grumble about how allergic we are to the festivities *chuckles* And I like that she's a grinch at Christmas. She's like my grinchy pillar of strength, providing much-needed grinchy-ness when festivities get over-hyped. I'd be out of my mind if it wasn't for her.

9. She has naturally gush-worthy, envy-worthy, great hair. The kind for which girls spend hours at the hairsalon and still not come close. And she's got doe eyes. But don't let those looks fool you, step on her tail and you're pretty much dead meat =P

10. Oh yes, this I *have to* mention. The last I saw her, she was still a no-makeup person. An exception was years back when she was at my house for Christmas. Somehow she allowed me to do makeup for her, and I did the whole kit and caboodle... dark eyeshadow, blush, lipstick, you name it. Oh, by the way Liz, I still have the photos :D

11. We shared diabolical chuckles when she gave a speech about Sex Education in school, despite the fact that we live in a very conservative Asian society, in an even more conservative high-school. Only one word is worthy of describing the reactions to her pièce de résistance: Priceless. Come to think of it now, I guess the teachers were too busy being horrified at that time, to figure that today she'd be a journalist, and just like years back, she'd be researching and dishing out the scoop on news.

12. Of all the friends and people I've known in my entire life, Liz is the one person who's always been there for me, despite the geographical differences, graduating school, and all that. I always call her my friend because I like the term "bestie" and "best friend", but fact is, to me, she's not just a friend, she's family. And that's a pretty awesome thingy we have goin' on =)

There. 12 things you probably never knew. Of one of the awesomest person I know and am so grateful to have in my life. I should probably stop writing before she puts my head on the chopping board =P

So Liz, here's hoping you have an awesome year ahead, and many more to come (drats, I sound so cheesy, no poking fun! I'm obviously terrible at this.) What I want to say to you is this...

Sometimes life gets crappy and I know you've been going through so much stuff lately, but stay strong! I'm not gonna go all "everything happens for a reason" on you because optimism was never my thing. But I want you to know that no matter what happens, I believe you're strong enough to handle it all. You've been through more things than most people I know, and yet you've never let them keep you from being who you want to be.

Keep hangin' on and pushing on, and once all the crappy stuff's done and over with, you're gonna come out of the whole thing and be able to go "I survived! Hah!" Then you can scoff at the face of overcome-ed adversities, and I'll willingly be your sound engineer to setup microphones and speakers so the satisfied chuckles can permeate our atmosphere, stratosphere and all those what-have-you-spheres we learnt in primary school *grins* =D

Birthday wishes from me sprinkled with lotsa love, hugs and of course, 'em cheesecakes! =)

Gauge Your Appetite... Ergo I Gauged Mine.

So today I read this article from RealAge (that's the Dr. Mehmet Oz's, for the unfamiliar) that had a Gauge Your Appetite scale which I thought was pretty good. I think most of those appetite-gauging scales from other articles are sort of vague, and this one's so much clearer. I've hyperlinked the URL to the full article, so I'm just putting the scale here since that's the jist of it.

GAUGE YOUR APPETITE

0 Tank = Hungry

1/2 Tank = Edge is off

3/4 Tank = Satisfied and not hungry

Full Tank = Full and comfortable

Overflow Level S = Stuffed

Overflow Level OS = Overstuffed

Overflow Level BP = Button Pop/Exploding

Aim to stay in the 3/4 to Full Tank range -- satisfied at all times. You'll get there by eating regularly throughout the day. After applying the gauge for 2 weeks, you'll start to know instinctively why you're eating and, better yet, you'll train yourself to eat simply to keep your stomach -- not your emotions -- satisfied.

And then, more of my ramblings...

A few minutes in deep thought resulted in the realization that I'm almost always at "Full Tank". That's 24x7, with the exception of the hours that I'm asleep, of course. Mostly because I live by those fitness rules of eating every 3-4 hours, lean protein plus complex carbs. (Lately I've been guilty of having simple carbs like non-wholewheat waffles at work, ugh... crap food, I know, I know. I seriously need to stop putting crap into my system. Yuck. But that's another story.)

Thing is, I sometimes wonder if being almost always at "Full Tank" is a good or a bad thing. Probably because there's always those so-called-tips-of-a so-called-proper-diet which repeat like a mantra the phrase, "Eat when you're hungry (and not if you ain't)."

Ahh, enough of the trains of thought. I'm just gonna stick to my "eat every 3-4 hours". I need to get back to cracking my skull to think of ways to pack proper snacks to work instead. So I can ditch the office crap-food for good.

I want the pain to go away. And not just the physical kind.

I'm bummed! I don't think I've been making any progress towards my 15% bodyfat percentage target lately. If anything, I might've even been gaining and not even know it. And boy, do I have much to grumble about.

My regular gym routine is 5 days/sessions per week; of 1-2 hours of cardio plus 1 hour of weight-training every session. Granted, there are people in the world who exercise more than me... but I don't think I'm doing too badly either, considering that the average person does less than that.

But unless the weighing scale is faulty or my eyes have gone blurry, I haven't lost weight. I'm doing the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing with measurements and bodyfat percentage right now because I fear that if I checked and found that I'm not making progress, I'd be so crushed it'll kill me. Argh :(

.....

I'm frustrated, disgruntled, and I know JUST where to dump my anger at.

Food. The saboteur of every other effort I've put in towards my 15% target. Dagnabbit.

Food is my downfall and I just know it. I been slacking on the calorie-counting lately. Having to attend multiple offsite trainings for work isn't helping either. Hotel food, training-centre food, eating out... I cringe everytime I eat 'bad' food, knowing that consuming those things is practically feeding my body with 'poison'. And yet I have to eat them. My days are a vicious cycle of...

(1) I know that the food is bad for me --> (2) I eat it anyway (either by choice, or because I have no choice) --> (3) I regret it and the guilt eats at me.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

.....

To make things worse, I've been behind on my gym-sessions lately. The shin splint is gone, but the hamstring thingy has been bugging me for 3 weeks now and it refuses to go away. It's painful even when I'm lying down. My legs refuse to perform the way I want them to during my workouts.

The injuries are robbing me of my momentum and I desperately need to get it back. I want to regain momentum. I need my mojo back.

Yesterday evening I was suddenly hit by this super-irked feeling. I'm tired of the injury and physical pain holding me back from exercising. And I'm tired of the self-sabotage, not eating right and washing down the gutter all my efforts of working towards my target physique.

The truth is that I want to get back to my gym routine but I'm scared. I remember how badly I did in my last BodyCombat class... I knew I wasn't executing the kicks properly because of the pain in my legs. I worry that I'd go into an RPM class, if the pain got so bad, and what I'd do because I've never in my entire life walked out midway through an RPM class. I want to run on the treadmill but I'm so afraid I'll fall or that something crazy might happen because my legs aren't even doing a good job of plain walking.

I don't feel like seeing a doctor. And I'm sick and tired of people around me who BLAME exercise for causing the injury. Actually I'm fed-up with everyone who acts as if exercise was bad for me. What is wrong with people nowadays? *sigh*

But back to the injury... I just can't let it hold me back anymore. This crap's been going on for 3 weeks. Amidst my doubts, my strong-willed inner voice says, "And if the pain doesn't go away, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna just sit back and wait for it to go away? You don't even know when (or if!) it's gonna go away. Seriously, you need to move on."

And I know my inner voice is right. So right now, I'm just operating on the basis of "Scroo the injury, I'm moving on."

.....

The plan for today was to go for RPM, followed by BodyPump. It's now way past 5pm and I'm stuck in offsite training, and it's not gonna end anytime soon. I'm tired, and I'm mentally and physically drained. I've been deprived of my regular gym-sessions this week because of the training, and today it's dragging on extra-late. Hopefully it'll finish soon and I'll head for the gym. I guess hopes of RPM have been shattered... I'll just head for the treadmill and then BodyPump.

I really am tired. Of everything from the physical pain, to being mentally drained, to work-stuff that's bogging me down, to the other things occupying my mind, some of which I can't put my finger to. I wish I could close my eyes and when I open them up again, everything would be fine.

All I want to feel is that life wasn't zapping the life out of me.

Of parrots, copycats and knock-offs...

I'm super-irked. Some people are such wannabes and copycats! It's pathetic. It's ridiculous.

Imitation is the LAMEST form of flattery. That's my stand and I'm sticking to it. And this time, when I say "imitation", I'm not just talking about designer knock-offs which are so prevalent in M'sia. I'm talking about living, breathing, walking imitations... people who copy other people.

Recently, a certain Lil Miss Wannabe has decided to parrot (verb) me; and her constant shameless copying of the words I use and the way I talk and write; is plain tap-dancing on my nerves. And parroting is just a tiny chunk off her entire nauseating wannabe-esque. Oh yes, there's more... I can assure you there's more. But I'm not gonna list them down here. Because I refuse to waste time on people who are nuts. In the words of Dilbert, "If you spend all of your time arguing with people who are nuts, you'll be exhausted and the nuts will still be nuts."

A mutual friend once 'reported' to me that Lil Miss Wannabe is (and I paraphrase) "trying to appear cooler than she actually is". I do not disagree.

People who try too hard just baffle and annoy me to no end. I think the most unimpressive people are the ones who are constantly trying to impress others (talk about irony!).

It's like who they are; got lost in the turbulence of trying to keep up this illusion of a faux-person they *think* others would love.

All this reminds me of one of the quotes I used during those public speaking competitions from high school: "Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else." I loved that quote then, and I still do now. I do believe that people are better off when they learn to ditch attempts of trying to be bad Xeroxes of other people, and work on being the awesomest-possible unique master copy of themselves. (Note: I'm aware that 'awesomest' is technically not a *real* word. But I just like saying it. It's my thing, let it go :P)

When I first started writing this, I was angry. But now I realize that there's really no reason to be angry at copycats.. be it Lil Miss Wannabe, or any other copycat I have or will come across. Getting angry is a waste of energy (I've got a better use for that energy - save it for my next weight-training session!) and totally unnecessary. Why let 'little nothings' upset me? Let 'em be. Let 'em copy all they want. After all, keep that up, and the only person they're damaging is themselves. (Side note: I'm struggling to resist the temptation to type "*insert evil laugh here*" after my last sentence, LOL)

Because when you come to think of it, if someone's a second-rate version of you, and you're a first-rate version of you, then saying who's better is merely stating the obvious, isn't it? :)

P/S. Two things don't change though... (1) I still think that imitation is the lamest form of flattery. (2) I still hate designer knock-offs. Blearch.

I Don't Belong Here...

It's been ages since my last post. Which come to think of it, isn't exactly 'normal' considering the fact that I'm usually very expressive and always verbalizing even the most infinitesimal thoughts that cross my mind.

I guess it's just a matter of not knowing how to put my thoughts into words this time. Or maybe it's knowing how to, but not feeling like it, because of the nagging thought that the only thing to come out of me expressing how I feel, is being judged and criticised. Or feeling that no matter what or how much I say, most people don't understand me anyway.

I'm upset with work. I just know this isn't the right place for me. I guess the worst feeling in the world is to remain in a certain place or situation when we know deep inside that it's not right for us.

How did I get here? I thought I was happy, I thought I was in control. I thought if I did what was right, I'd have peace of mind. But yet I wake up in the morning dreading having to go to the office because I'm so unhappy. The IT industry, the life of a corporate slave, the cubicle-bound 8-to-5 deskjob faced with computers daily and the late-night conference calls, the never-ending demands and expectations. Some people thrive in such situations, but this life is not for me. All this does for me is to make me increasingly miserable by the day.

I don't belong here.

I used to think that when it comes to a job, money was (almost, if not) everything. When I first graduated, I thought to myself that I'd climb the corporate ladder, work tirelessly 'round the clock and someday get to the point where life revolved around 3-piece suits, a huge house I'll probably never get to spend any time in because I'd have to pull overnighters in the office, and a paycheck fat enough to pay for multiple Ferraris by cash.

I used to say that happiness didn't mean nuts if I didn't have oodles of cash. I couldn't be more wrong.

I used to scoff and never believed when people told me that priorities would change as time passes. And the fact is, the old adage was true.

Today there's not much I wouldn't give for happiness and contentment. Doing a job that may not be super-glam but knowing that it gives me fulfillment and that it's the right job for me. Being able to have time-off for myself, and to spend with the people I love. Being able to go off on a holiday with family, and not have to lug along my notebook or a Blackberry. Having the freedom to crash early at night, without the 12am conference calls, or the paranoia of my cell ringing at 2am with an issue from work that may keep me awake till dawn. Not having to drag myself to a job that makes me nothing but unhappy.

Being able to do what I love.

And in the end I guess that's what matters. Knowing that we spend our lives doing what we love, and what we're meant to do. Doing something that at the end of the day, puts a smile on our faces and give us that inner peace and contentment that no paycheck can buy. Having a job that doesn't make you cry yourself to sleep every night, or dread waking up in the morning. Having a job that pays for the stuff you need in life, and not one that robs you of your life. And that's one thing I'm working towards right now.

Because I owe it to myself to be happy.

I'm glad that today, despite my designer-obsession and my love for fast cars, crazy electric guitars and concert grand pianos, I can say from my heart: Oodles of cash mean nothing to me if I didn't have happiness.

I read this phrase somewhere this morning, and it definitely jolted me: "Life is simply too short to spend it doing things that make you unhappy." Now that's a reality-check I wouldn't mind having, over and over again.

Chinese New Year is just around the corner, but...

Chinese New Year is just 2 days away. Activities have been planned and preparations are underway. I should be ecstatic. But I feel kinda numb and indifferent.

I've never been much of a holidays' enthusiast. To me, they're all over-hyped; and everytime the festivities peak, I just get detached and apprehensive. If I were to dig deep into my heart and fess up, christmas trees, multicolored lights, mandarin orange trees and clanging cymbals during a lion dance performance don't have the same effect on me as they do on the average person. I actually find it a tad pesky to hear those clanging cymbals and drums when I'm trying to get my shut-eye on Chinese New Year mornings.

Now this is gonna make me sound like such a grouch (a la Oscar of Sesame Street), but I sometimes find festivals to be some sorta 'interruption to normal life'. It's a holiday and I'm work-free, yet I can't go shopping for clothes or scouring the racks for shoes because most of the shops are closed for the holidays. I don't get to head for my Bodypump and RPM classes because the gym is also closed for the holidays. I can't run errands because banks, offices and possibly the whole world has gone MIA for what seems like eternity. All this just makes me feel so unproductive and slacky, and it's pretty crappy. Holidays celebrations break my routine, and the moment they end; I'm once again battling the post-holiday blues, trying to regain my momentum and getting back to being the my-pre-holiday-productive-self.

It's not like I'm a holiday-hater or anything of that sort. I appreciate the time spent with family and friends during the holidays. I enjoy going on trips with my family. I like being able to take a breather from work every once in awhile. It's the festivities and hype that I find exhausting and so unnecessary at times. But that's just me.

My typical weekend is filled with a plethora of activites from electric guitar class, working out at the gym and sessions with my trainer, shopping, catching up on housework, getting some down-time at home, piano practise sessions, et cetera. This weekend however, would need nothing short of a miracle for me to check even half of the items on that list. I'm still feeling more than a tinge of bummed-ness over the fact that I'm missing the session with my trainer this weekend from having to travel for you-know-what-occasion-it-is-in-2-days-time.

Ah, what can I do. The things in life we cannot change. All I want is a laidback holiday where I can relax. But that never happens. So I'm filling up my Ipod to the last byte with non-holiday-esque songs. Scheduling into my PDA the gym sessions I get to attend once the gym re-opens after the holidays. Making a list of things I can do to make full use of my time-off.

I try to smile. It's not a convincing one but nevermind. Hopefully the anti-festivities-glum-ness will fade when the family gatherings begin.

Because family's the 'stuff' that holiday celebrations are made of.

I Just Got Tagged...

I got tagged. I was reading Liz's blog when I came across this tag thingy, and she said "I tag 5 people who read this. LOL." So I fell right into the pit =P

THE RULES

Bold the statements that are true to you

Italise the statements that you WISH are true

Leave the fibs alone

Then, stab 5 guys to do the same test

_______________

I miss somebody right now.

I don’t watch TV these days. (If only! *chuckles*)

I own lots of books. (Movers hate me.)

I wear glasses or contact lenses. (And shades whenever I feel like it.)

I love to play video games.

I’ve tried marijuana.

I have been in a threesome.

I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship.

I believe honesty is usually the best policy. (Besides, I'm not a good liar, LOL)

I curse sometimes. (Most of the time I use substitutions. "Oh, sheep!" is a classic. I recently picked up some essential French ones as well. It helps to lessen the 'rude-factor' since not many people around me understand/speak French. Case in point: I can say "Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage!" and the only thing most people around me can translate off-hand is "fromage" *chuckles*)

I have changed a lot mentally over the last year.

I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me.

I’m TOTALLY smart. (Heh! =P)

I’ve broken someone’s bones.

I’m paranoid sometimes.

I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.

I need money right now. (The one who dies with the most shoes and electric guitars; wins. Ahem.)

I love sushi. (But not as much as I love a good steak. Gotta love the red meat, everytime.)

I talk really, really fast. (I don't know how my brain keeps up.)

I have long hair. (I used to, but I recently had it cropped to a slanted, assymetrical bob.)

I have lost money in Las Vegas.

I have at least one sibling. (Yes, I'm an only child. No, it isn't boring to be an only child.)

I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past. (Only the fake eyelashes, a pair of dramatic ones on the outer corners of my eyes, for a dinner party. Fake fingernails are a no-no for me, I keep my nails perpetually short for my electric guitar and piano-playing.)

I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D. (I kid you not.)

I like the way I look.

I am usually pessimistic. (The glass is half empty; and that's a black dot staining the otherwise blank piece of white paper.)

I have a lot of mood swings. (The fact that I'm short-fused doesn't help.)

I have a hidden talent.

I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have.

I have a lot of friends.

I am currently single.

I have pecked someone of the same sex.

I enjoy talking on the phone. (But it depends on the 5W's, i.e. Who, What, Where, When and Why, for the unfamiliar.)

I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants. (Actually, I live in shorts.)

I love to shop. (And that, is an understatement! =P)

I enjoy window shopping. (I actually go window shopping the day before my planned 'actual shopping' day, to do preliminary research on what I will buy the next day. I'm serious.)

I would rather shop than eat. (Many of my lunchbreaks have been sacrificed in favor of shopping and 'a Caramel Frappucino, no whipped cream'.)

I don’t hate anyone. I dislike them.

I’m a pretty good dancer.

I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother.

I have a cell phone. (A cellie-slash-PDA. My life depends on it =P)

I believe in God. (I'm agnostic. Go figure.)

I watch MTV on a daily basis.

I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months.

I’ve rejected someone before. (Actually, there was more than one...)

I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.

I want to have children in the future. (Which doesn't change the fact that the thought of getting fat from having kids; scares the life outta me.)

I have changed a diaper before.

I’ve called the cops on a friend before.

I’m not allergic to anything. (except for toxic people, which I avoid like the plague.)

I have a lot to learn.

I have been with someone at least 10 years older or younger. (Just the 'older'. 10 years younger is not really my kinda thing.)

I am shy around the opposite sex. (I don't know, so I put a mix of bold, italic and regular =P)

I have tried alcohol before.

I have made a move on a friend’s significant other or crush in the past.

I own the “South Park” movie.

I would die for my best friends.

I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza. (I've pledged allegiance to Domino's crunchy thin-crust, the Beef Pepperoni and Aloha Chicken toppings from the very first bite...)

I have used my sexuality to advance my career.

I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all.

Halloween is awesome because you get free candy. (Not a big fan of ghouls, ghosts, skeletons, or the onslaught of overly-sugary treats.)

I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it. (Only because I've never watched it before. If I have, this would probably be in bold formatting. Gotta love the yellow sponge's eyes, aww.)

I have dated a close friends’ ex.

I am happy at this moment!! (But not in a silly, cheesy way.)

I’m obsessed with guys.

I study for tests most of the time. (Fact: I always get good grades but hardly ever study. And it drives me up the wall whenever people look at my grades and think that I slog my bum off studying but am in denial... so not true, sheesh.)

I tie my shoelaces differently from anyone I’ve ever met.

I can work on a car.

I love my job.

I am comfortable with who I am right now.

I have more than just my ears pierced.

I walk barefoot wherever I can. (Ick, no way. I'm a clean-freak, so walking barefoot anywhere except my own home just creeps me out.)

I have jumped off a bridge.

I love sea turtles.

I spend ridiculous money on makeup. (I just spent like a thousand bucks at the Chanel counter a week ago. Guilty as charged. Pun not intended *grins*)

I plan on achieving a major goal/dream.

I’m proficient in a musical instrument. (More than one, actually.)

I worked at McDonald’s restaurant.

I hate office jobs. (I dislike them slightly, but only because I dislike cubicles. The job itself isn't that bad really.)

I love sci-fi movies.

I think water rules. (Ironically, I can't swim.)

I went to college out of state.

I like sausages. (Only the 100% pure meat ones that don't have flour and weird additives in them.)

I love kisses. (Mwwaaaahhh! Hahaha...)

I fall for the worst people. (On the contrary, the weirdest, stalker-ish people fall for me. It baffles me.)

I adore bright colours. (Dark blue and black are my favourite colors.)

I can’t live without black eyeliner. (I'd like to try goth, I think it's fascinating in a very dark and mysterious kinda way.)

I don’t know why the hell I just did this stupid thing.

I usually like covers better than originals.

I can pick up things with my toes.

I can whistle.

I can move my tongue in waves, much like a snakes slither.

I have ridden/owned a horse. (Owned, no. Ridden, yes. But it's not really my thing. I personally found it kinda difficult having the smell of 'horse' all over my clothes.)

I still have every journal I’ve ever written in.

I can’t stick to a diet.

I talk in my sleep.

I try to forget things by drowning them out with loads of distractions. (Like, work. Or better, loads of music.)

Climbing trees is a brilliant past-time. (I wish! But I'm the epitome of acrophobic, altophobic and batophobic.)

I have jazz in my blood. (On the contrary, I have classical and metal in my blood...)

I wear a toe ring.

I have a tattoo. (I want more than one, actually.)

I can stand at LEAST one person that I work with. (Just one, right? =P)

I am a caffeine junkie. (My mantra: One espresso shot is equivalent to 1 full hour of sleep. Substitute accordingly when sleep-deprivation surfaces. Works like a charm everytime.)

I know what cosplaying is. (I just googled it =P)

I have been to over 15 conventions.

I will collect anything, and the more nonsensical, the better.

I’m an artist. (I'm right-brained so I love 'em all... music, arts, languages, anything artsy.)

I only clean my room when necessary.

I like a person of the same sex.

I love being happy. (Sometimes I like not being happy. A dark personality really is more fun at times.)

I am an adrenaline junkie. (I thrive on adrenaline rushes. They fuel me.)

I'm supposed to tag 5 people but since I've only got 1 on my blogroll as I'm typing this... I tag Zu *giggles*

And the remaining 4, I would need to borrow Liz's tagging-sentence. Ergo, I hereby tag 4 "people who read this" =P

I don't have an eating disorder. It's the people who have a problem with me eating in an orderly manner.

Just when I thought my guilt level was at its worst, today I'm at my erm, (for lack of a better word...) Worstest.

I've been musing for countless months about the fact that I gained weight since I joined my current company. It was simply put: The end of wholegrain-bread sandwiches and a big hello to a socializing-filled worklife which involved more food-related teambuilding activities than my body could theoretically handle.

Don't get me wrong. I'd never give up the occasional steak with a baked potato topped with bacon bits and grilled vegetables on the side (I watch what I eat, but that doesn't mean I've lost my mind, LOL). But a table-full of teammates chomping down the Victoria Station's Phoenix Dragon Combo of "1/2 lobster, huge serving of chicken, baked potato, corn AND vegetables" being considered normal was just too much for my stomach to handle. I'm not afraid of food, I love food. It's my stomach that can't take THAT much of it. I used to eat 2 meals a day during college. The 5-meals at work thing was something my stomach refuses to agree with.

I want a bottomless tummy with the metabolism faster than the speed of light. Then I can live with the frequent over-indulgent team lunches. But I don't.

And no, I don't have an eating disorder, I don't fear food. Darn, I love food... I can't live a day without food, and to add to that, I'm a meat-lovin' person. It's just that, I can't give up my eat-till-you're-just-full to eat-like-everyone-else cuz everyone's 'normal' would turn me into having a Binge Eating Disorder. And THAT, would be an eating disorder.

I miss my old eating habits. I miss living a life where nobody would pressure me to eat when I was full, call me anti-social if I skipped some group lunch or dinner, or critisize me of being weird if I ate less than most of the other people.

It translates to me; missing my size zero clothes, and missing those days when size S was "too huge", and XS or XXS were the only sizes I could wear, and anything else seemed like I was borrowing Goliath's toga as a top. It translates to missing the day I weighed-in at the gym at 12.5% body fat percentage, and a BMI that was borderline underweight.

I used to think it was frustrating when my ex-bassist/friend nicknamed me "Bag-O-Bones". And to think of it now, feeling sick and uncomfortably full versus being jokingly called Bag-O-Bones? I'd rather live with ye olde Bag-O-Bones.

My musing has gone from amused to bemused.

I can no longer tolerate the large amounts of food. I feel nauseated and sick to my stomach. I want to eat because I'm hungry, not stuff myself with food even when I'm full just because people around me are hungry.

I'm starting to get so sick of my current eating habits that if there was a pill to substitute food, I may very well consider having it and using my meal-times to catch up on my piano-playing or practise for my upcoming electric guitar exams.

At least my electric guitar, Cosmo, doesn't complain when I have wholemeal BLT sandwiches for lunch.

From now on, there shall be no more. I'm gonna eat what I want, and not eat when I don't want to. And the next person who tries to make me eat or say "Are you on a diet?" (in THAT judgemental-esque tone) when I pass on the second roti canai or doughnut... will be shot, pronto.

So there you have it. Don't say I didn't warn you. =P

Office Politics... Necessary Evil, Negligible Nonsense, or Inevitable Gobbledygook...

I lost a friend at work today...

Hang on, rephrasing this. I lost a so-called friend at work today.

Heartbreaking at first, but thinking back of it, it wasn't a loss. It was my narrow escape from a so-called friendship which never existed in the first place. And what I gained was more valuable than any amount of money or success the corporate world could ever give me.

Here's a "friend" whom I'd never thought would let me down. One whom I used to think had the integrity and deserved the respect, and whom I'd regarded as a friend, and not just a colleague or teammate. One of the first friends I made in this organization. And in a matter of hours, thoughtless words and shameless actions can change everything. And it makes one think.

Could it be true when they say that in the corporate world, the term "trust" is non-existent and mere fallacy? And why are the few people who gain your trust; the very ones to hit you right between the eyes, when you least expect it?

So much for one-too-many hours spent in team-building events, trying to foster friendships and relationships, all on the company's dime. Washed down the gutter by people who give up their integrity just to stoop down and do everything conceivable for the sake of recognition... and a few extra wads of cash. Even if the checklist included backstabbing, taking credit for others' work, and putting others down.

Amusingly enough, if that's one thing that thrives regardless of a company's financial standing, success, direction or growth, it's gotta be office politics. And we wonder why people never have enough time to get work done. Perhaps if less time was spent on politics... hmm.

I refuse to list the gazillion ways in which a company could benefit if less time was spent on politics. It's not like we can eliminate it anyway. The workforce is chock-full of one-too-many people who would rather talk their way up, than work their way up. Probably 33% of the workforce actually work, whilst the remaining 67% spend their working hours living off credit stolen from the 33%. And of course, bootie-polishing skills are a must for one who aspires to make the 67%. The same majority are the ones who put to shame the "Winning With Integrity" slogan, carrying out their wrong and needless acts guiltlessly and with much gusto to boot.

The ones who chatter happily over lunch with their teammates, then trample over them the very next moment. A teammate who'd critisize others, then ironically commit the exact same crimes, and then some. Who guiltlessly backstabs the very bosses who gave them the promotions, the increments, and the support when they needed it the most. A never-to-be-underestimated bunch which ooze believability with every word they utter, not a single syllable of which is true.

The whole "I lost a friend today" thing was just a teensy weensy negligible slice of the pie. What I gained and learnt about the corporate world, no university degree could ever teach me. I realized that a year's worth of work experience could make a person grow more than two years' worth of postgraduate studies. I realized the harsh reality of the corporate world in which many companies strive with the very best intentions to preach and to practice integrity, and honesty, and respect; only to have attempts made futile by people who lack the values in themselves. And these people bubble over with self-righteousness which could shadow the planet Jupiter, and are always waiting to offer so-called words of advice on honesty, work-ethics, doing what's right, integrity, determination, you name it. And they even try to make you take the blame for their mistakes. Then act all concerned and give you a word or two of advice, right in front of your boss. I kid you not.

Hypocrisy should be penalized. It's so ridiculous it doesn't even hurt anymore.

Meaning Of Life... *ahem*

Today a new cubicle-decoration circulated amongst our team.

A poster which most of us promptly pinned-up on our cubicle walls the moment we got our hands on it. Granted, it was a very eye-catching poster.

Simply titled "Meaning Of Life", it is precisely what the title says. Summarizing the meaning of our entire life, all in a single 8.5 x 11 inch sheet of paper. And, strange and amusing as it may seem, it DOES cover pretty much everything in life. Here's what it wrote...

Meaning Of Life

Be born. Go to school. Do well. Graduate. Look for a Job. Find a Job. Make money. Make more money. Save money. Meet somebody. Go out with somebody. Move in with somebody. Marry somebody. Make money. Move up the ladder at work. Make more money. Have a baby. Buy a house. Make money. Get up and go to work. Come home and watch television. Have another baby. Make more money. Buy things at Wal-Mart. Mow the lawn. Make more money. Have another Baby. Buy a car that can seat a family of six. Buy Elmo videos for the kids. Make money. Have another baby. Go see the latest romantic comedy movie. Make more money. Take a vacation to Disneyland. Eat at McDonald's. Call the plumber when the sink is broken. Make more money. Say "I love you" to your spouse on occasion. Send the kids to school. Make more money. Cast your vote for "American Idol". Go to your High-School Reunion. Make more money. Take up Golf. Give the kids advice about stuff. Send the kids to college. Take Bayer aspirin for your Arthritis. Get kind of fat. Become a Grandparent. Finish making money. Retire. Get old. Die.

Pretty thought-provoking stuff. No doubt, it was amusing, but yet profound.

And it made me think. Sometimes it's funny how we tend to look at life as something so totally complicated. We spend so much time just thinking of what we want to do, what's gonna happen in the future, what about purpose in life, and stuff like that. When in actual fact, most of life is spent on those seemingly 'simple' things which we don't even sit down and think about. That's probably the realist's way of looking at things.

Then came my pessimistic side, interrupting my train of realist thoughts...

What if life just isn't as complicated or as 'meaningful' as we feel it is? Too often, I spend ages sitting and thinking of what the future will be like, what I'll be doing, will I achieve my goals and ambitions, you get the drift. Would I be driving my dream car, with my fave Ibanez electric guitar in the trunk, as my two hands fumble to switch gears, cling on to the steering wheel, forage for my lipgloss nestled somewhere inside my Dior handbag as I speed-dial my hairstylist for my appointment in the afternoon. And usually, life isn't that dramatic after all. I guess only time will tell how the future would actually be.

Then another thought crosses my mind. Why don't I make a checklist from all the items in the article, and check them off one-by-one as I achieve them? Obviously, I have the ability to check every item in the list, except the last one, i.e. "Die" (like you had to ask). Of course, I could tell everyone about my list, so when I finally "cease-inhaling-oxygen-and-exhaling-carbon-dioxide", someone could help to check it, and frame it up, and place it over my tombstone or something creepy of that sort. Then again, that's a lil too creepy for my liking. Oh well.

I guess that's what life's all about. It's not just the extravagant, outrageous stuff which movies talk of... you know, things that feeble, mere mortals *ahem* like me would sit and imagine having someday (nevermind the fact that it's almost out-of-reach, a little dreaming never hurt anyone) - Like getting a record deal, playing alongside Joe Satriani, John Petrucci and Steve Vai in a G3 concert, driving a coupe that changes color according to my mood with an uber-cool audio system, two golden retrievers clad in Burberry coats and a shih-tzu with a haircare regimen that rivals Jennifer Aniston.

I guess sometimes the little things matter too, trivial things we do that we never realize the significance of. Having the chance to spend time with the people who mean a lot to us. Or playing music and enjoying it even if I may never have the chance to play alongside Joe Satriani, John Petrucci and Steve Vai. Things like that.

It jolts the mind whenever a reality-check like this kicks in. And it makes me wonder if my life (whatever's left of it, at least) would have the tiniest glimmer of hope to turn out extraordinarily. Or if it's not even gonna be all of the stuff in that 8.5 x 11 inch sheet of paper.

And I know it may not be possible to have all that I wish for. But deep inside, I do hope for at least a little more than just the ordinary.

The BodyPump disaster...

Just gotten back from the gym, feeling just a teensy-weensy bit tired. The reason behind the "teensy-weensy" as opposed to my usual "I'm so gonner kapoot!" tired, is the fact that I didn't find today's BodyPump class tiring at all. And that ain't a good thing. Two reasons why : (1) Not enough space (2) Not enough plates.

Reason Numero Uno that caused my distress is the mere fact that the Energy Studio was packed today. And I don't mean packed as in "a really full class of humans". I mean, a glass-doored room packed full ('to the brim', if I may use that term, cuz it felt like an aquarium anyway) of people, step-boards, bricks (the stepping-board ones, not the ones people use in construction), barbells, plates, exercise mats, water bottles and towels. Full to the extent that it felt almost as if people would practically roll out, hanging onto barbells for dear life, should the doors burst open.

The class was scheduled to start at 6.10pm. Time-check 6.05pm and I'm practically running into the Energy Studio - towel, gloves, and water bottle in hand (for which I paid a few extra cents today because I grabbed the bottle and told the girl at the counter "It's alright, keep the change, I'm late for class") only to see the whole room chock-full of people already. Then I spotted Alex (my fellow BodyPump buddy at the gym) and after much looking, he helped me to find a spot measuring approximately 3 x 5 feet, and I ran and grabbed the step-board, and those nifty BodyPump equipment.

And that's when Item-Of-Distress-Numero-Dos surfaced.

The first rack had only 0.5kg and two oddly-sized 2.5kg plates left. The second rack had nothing. Zilch. Six dismal 0.5kg plates in hand, I asked Alex if I could use the plates from the free weights area, but he said they'd be too heavy for me to use, so he gave me two of his 2.5kg plates instead. So that was all I had for the class, a maximum of 4kg on each side, causing me much anguish not from the pain but the lack thereof. And I have every right to feel distressed. Doing squats with 4kg on each side makes me feel as tired as it does to walk from my cubicle to the cafeteria at work. (Read: It feels like nothing at all.)

One thing it made me appreciate was Alex who was nice enough to give me those 2.5kg plates. Otherwise I'd have gone through the entire class with 1.5kg on each side (and the minimum is 2.5kg each side, so I'm not even touching minimum with that). Still I'm kinda upset about the whole thing. One sentence sums it all: "What do you mean I'm spendin' almost two-hundred-bucks a month for this?" Sigh. It's not that it happens everytime, but still I have the right to be a tad upset. I like to push myself, and wanted so much to work harder today, and I didn't get the chance to.

I'm trying to get my mind off the whole BodyPump disaster, and think of tomorrow's class being better. It's Paul's 8.30pm class so hopefully the gym wouldn't be so InSaNeLy-packed then. I'm planning to add some weights and push myself a lil more, cuz I can't go for classes this Friday and that kinda bogs me down.

But BodyPump glooms aside, RPM was good =) Bumped into Alan a.k.a. my-fave-RPM-instructor on my way to the changing rooms, and talked about the new release, last Friday (Merdeka Day classes which I didn't attend, and found out today that he didn't instruct it either so I don't regret missing it, haha) and me not being able to attend class this Friday cuz I'll be working. And he was like "bring your notebook, workout and do your work at the same time lar" (giggle) and I wish I could. Today Alan played the new RPM release, so I wasn't quite familiar with the tracks yet, but overall the class was great. Somehow I'm more enthusiastic and tend to work harder in RPM classes lately due to the fact that I do miss them a lot, not being able to attend them sometimes due to work has made me appreciate the days when I do get to go for them. I still wish I didn't have to miss this Friday's RPM class *sob*. All I can do is look forward to next Monday then.

Enough of blogging for now, it's probably time to have dinner and catch some sleep. Tomorrow's another long workday. Work aside, I can, I will, I must go for BodyPump tomorrow. *grins*

BodyPump, and my telepathic RPM instructor...

Arrived at the gym at 6.00pm, just in time to jump into my gym clothes and grab my gloves, gatorade and towel and practically brisk-walk to the Energy Studio. Bumped into Alex on the way (he was grabbing those 10kg plates which I fondly view as "darn things which when I watch people lift, makes me feel excruciating pain and exhaustion although I only have 5kg on my barbell"), and he was like "You're late! No more plates already!" which made me shift from brisk-walk-mode to running-mode, haha. Managed to grab four 2.5kg plates and six 0.5kg plates which is a lil less than what I have been using to torment myself lately, but is sufficient. Hey, it's monday, I'm just warming up to the week. (Oh, the sheer joy of giving excuses =P)

BodyPump class was alright, somehow I felt tired kinda early in the class, but it's probably cuz of the un-gymmer-ish food I've been putting into my system over the weekend (tons of McD's, caffeine, and a substantial amount of Jepunese food at Sakae Sushi) and the fact that it's Monday, but despite the tiredness, I did increase some weights and it didn't hurt that much, so I wasn't dying yet or anything of that sort. I always expect so much out of myself, and somehow I feel I'm not pushing myself enough *sigh*

Anyway, today the gym started the first day ever of that "Registration is required for all Spinning Classes" policy, so I had to head right for the main counter right after BodyPump, to write my name down and to get some lil card thingy which apparently gives us a spot in the Spinning Studio. Then as I was walking towards the changing rooms, there was this guy smiling and I knew that I know this guy, I just couldn't put my finger to it, so I smiled back. And then after my poor lagging brain processed, it was Alan, my fave RPM instructor. And I just HAD TO interrupt his workout to strike up conversation, haha. It's pretty cool really, he was talking about his triathlon this weekend, and mentioned that there are different types of triathlons, there's some that even go up to 15-16 hours. And me, in my utter frustration and shock, asked "Don't they have breaks in between and stuff?" To which he said they didn't, and that taking a break could actually get you kicked-out cuz you need to finish the whole thingy in a certain amount of hours, i.e. that 16 hours and stuff. And he even said "there's many types of triathlons, you could try the mini-triathlon" which sounds really nice, but I warned him that he should be prepared to drag me along with a rope in the event of me not being able to carry-on after 10 minutes of da competition =P
He also asked if I knew what a triathlon was, and then asked if I could swim, to which I had to fess up and admit my usual "I can go forward, but I can't float." (And now that I think of it, sheesh, I should have asked more than just joked, cuz hey, this guy's a pro triathlon athlete, I should've taken the opportunity to listen more...oh well, I'll have my second chances)

Then this part (which was actually in the middle, we diverted from sports to work, then back to sports, haha) came, he mentioned about me not going to the gym much the past few weeks (cuz I was practically missing-in-action from his classes for like 3 weeks *guilt tortures me, sigh*)

And an excerpt from the conversation with Alan. In order to get the whole funny-ness of the conversation, it's important to note that in the past, I have never told him where I worked nor even mentioned before that I worked in Da-Field-Of-Computing or anything akin to that.

Alan : You haven't been coming to the gym for quite some time already. Why? 
Me : Work lor. (with that tone and rolled-eyes that I inflict on innocent people who ask me about the unfortunate days that I do not get to head for the gym)
Alan : How come work till like that one?
Me : Yeah, sometimes I need to work from home as well. Working till late mar.Alan : How come need to work from home? What u working as? *and then he pauses a moment to think, and without waiting for my answer to the previous 2 questions, the next statement followed* You working in Dell is it?

ROTCGFLMGBOMH - Rolling On The Carpeted Gym Floor, Laughing My Gatorade Bottle Outta My Hands.

Oh well.

The PaintBall Ordeal...

Today is Paintball Day! =)
And for the unfamiliar… (words in parentheses by Yours Truly)
“Paintball is a sport in which participants eliminate opponents from play by hitting them with paintballs (da lil funky-lookin’ colorful balls filled with paint) shot from a compressed-gas-powered “marker” (this is The-Gun-Thingy). The first paintballs were created by the Nelson Paint Company in the 1950s for forestry service use in marking trees from a distance, and were also used by cattlemen to mark cows (don’t we all feel moo-ish at some point =P).
Arrived at PISA at around 11am and they did the registration and paperwork and blah-blah. There were altogether 9 of us. Then came Cardiac Arrest Numero Uno - we had to sign this paper with our name, IC number, cell number. Why, you might ask. "In case you die!", said James. Aptly and concisely put.
So before we actually started, we had a briefing by one of those ‘professional’ paintball players. And here’s what I got from the briefing…

• The-Gun-Thingy is called a Marker. Quoting the guy, "From now on, you will no longer call this a gun, you will call this a marker". (Sir, yes sir =P)
• The "paintball was initially used to mark cows and trees" thingy. (And I thought it was inspired by war or at least something more violent. Oh well.)
• The Paint is "one-hundred-percent-biodegradable and is even halal" (What a relief. Now I have the assurance that my Adidas ClimaCool Steffi-Graf-tribute tank-top will escape unharmed after the whole ordeal.)
• After the guy was done explaining about the Paint, he said "And now let’s talk about the PAIN. If you get hit, the pain lasts for 3 minutes, but the scar lasts for 3 weeks."
• Then comes Cardiac Arrest Numero Dos - "Always have your mask on. If you get shot in the eye, the paintball will REPLACE your EYEBALL." And yes, that was a word-by-word quotation from the briefing.
• And as our group was made up of 80% guys, questions about ‘da crotch-shot’ arose. For the curious, this is what the briefer says, "It’s painful, but still can use lah. That’s the most important thing right?". Oh well. Guys and their priorities. I rest my case.

So before our turn came, the guy who briefed us showed us his own marker. It has a light and laser and a whole bunch of thingamajigs and whatchamacallits. Apparently these things go up to thousands of bucks. Now that’s a whole lot of dough. And seems there’s even extravagant stuff like Paintball Bazookas and Paintball Grenades. Imagine if I had some of those *giggle*.
After the briefing and the long wait, it was finally our turn. It was kinda fun suiting-up, we had a protective jacket thingy that looked a lil like those bulletproof vests, but thinner, of course. (It’s just paint, honey, it ain’t a bomb.) And then there’s this mask that looks like huge goggles with nose and mouth protection. And helmets that came in 2 different colors (black or camouflage-patches) to help us differentiate our teams. Uber-cool stuff.
Walking into the paintball area was even more uber-cool. The “whoa” feeling. That is, until I saw the “Masks-On Area” sign which reminded me of the whole “The Paintball will replace your Eyeball” phrase. That made me double-check my mask. HA.
The first round was not much for me cuz I was kinda clueless. But my team won and I survived. That was nice. Strangely I was a lil upset that I did NOT get shot. No, I’m not weird. It’s just that I do feel that I somehow would not get the whole paintball EXPERIENCE unless I got splattered all over with paint. And I verbalized my disappointment on not being shot, which made Clarence go “alright, the next round, we’ll all shoot Pauline” and we laughed. Somehow I did wish it would happen. All I can say is “Be careful what you wish for, cuz you just might get it.” And get it, I did.
The second round came. I fired more shots and was getting into the game. And then I decided to take shelter behind 2 cans/tins. Smartest decision I ever made in my life. The 2 cans had this tiny gap in between, and everybody was able to see me sheltering behind them. My pillarbox-red top wasn’t doing me any good either. The opposing team kept firing shots over in my direction and it’s plain traumatizing cuz everytime a bullet hits one of those cans, you hear an insanely loud *KeR-pLuNk!* which gets amplified a thousand times with the helmet on your head. Even though you don’t get hit, the *KeR-pLuNk!* is loud enough to make me jump out of your skin, and into one of those darn cans. And then I got spattered with paint, which was sooo oily. So this is what James’ meant when he said “it’s vegetable oil”. It was pretty awful to have the oily, fluorescent yellow goo all over my hand. And then Joe shouted from the other end, “Pauline’s out!”, and I heard James shouting back “PAULINE IS IN!”. After a shot and what seemed like forever, the round was over. And I came out so utterly frazzled and everyone was like “Pauline, are you alright?” (it must’ve shown in my eyes cuz I had my mask on then), and helped me to get my helmet and mask off. And yes, I got a bruise! Strangely it wasn’t as painful as I expected (hoped) for it to be. Some of them were saying the shots hurt, but then I was practically complaining that it “wasn’t painful enough”, to which James said “You’re such a sadist!” hahaha. I guess I kinda like to really get tormented, it’s like working out. No pain, no strain, no fun. It’s only when you feel the push, and the pain, that it feels great. Maybe I am quite a sadist. Haha =P
Third and fourth rounds were better though. I kinda warmed up after the two rounds, and was getting used to all this. And didn’t get shot at all *grins*. Plus I fired a lot. I’m starting to like this thing more and more =) Overall it was great fun. Messy but fun. And it’s cool stuff. It was nice to do something kinda active too, especially cuz I didn’t work-out the entire week, so it feels good to get all hyper again. I wasn’t that tired, so I guess it’s true that working-out regularly helps to increase your stamina. Hey, way back then I wouldn’t even run 100-metres without huffing (and grumbling, haha), but this time I didn’t feel tired. I could’ve gone for RPM after that. Okay, maybe not RPM. Hehe.
But it sure was fun. I thought I’d be chickened-out by all the combat-ish, hyper-ish stuff but I actually liked it. Loved it, to be honest. The bruise’s fading fast though. It hurts just a tiny-teensy-weensy bit if I pressed real hard on it with my finger, but besides that it wasn’t painful. Now, does anybody want to go again? *grins*

Pauline's Last Day at College *grins*

Today's my last day at college. I must say I felt light-hearted even as I drove to college...and why not? After 3 years of the monotony of attending classes, driving to and fro college each day, putting up with AWFUL cafeteria food, and surviving on McD as my staple food for the days which I escape the deadly jaws of cafeteria food; who wouldn't be happy to know this is my last day. The last day i step into KDU College Penang for classes, ah...sheer bliss...a historical day to be noted. Hence a blog entry to commemorate.

Ah...reflections on college life. The pleasant and fun moments which I never want to forget (meeting great people, making great friends, the joy and satisfaction of getting good grades and grinning upon receiving an exam-results slip), and the not-so-fun moments I'd rather forget (e.g. enduring hours of lab classes...someone should tell those KDU folks that it's frustrating to sit in Lab 1, 2 or 3 where you need to sit with ur head angled 90 degrees to the side in order to see your lecturer...duzzin matter if you guys upgrade da whole lab of computers to those snazzy IBM units with LCD panels, a stiff neck is still not the "in" thing...).

Reflections on college life makes it compulsory to mention the food served at Le Cafe, a section of the cafeteria allocated to the H&T students to cook and sell their "delectable" culinary cuisine. Trust me, the food served goes BEYOND YOUR WILDEST IMAGINATION. Red ants floating in hot mocha, weird looking greenish goo served as dessert, fish-n-chips served without tartar sauce (they plunk a blob of coleslaw at the side of ur plate...and that becomes your coleslaw, tartar sauce, mayo, and veggies, all-in-one-blob-of-goo, so to speak *shakes head in dismay*), coleslaw with veggies DRENCHED in vinegar to the extent where it's like eating slivers of cabbage soaked in a solution of 55% mayo and 45% vinegar, and not to mention the multiple cases of food-poisoning my poor friends and I faced, utterly unthinkable! Still, students eat there, for mere fact that the tables are nice (those Starbucks-kinda tables) relative to the tables on the other side of the canteen...and that they serve a variety of food (more like in-class experiments, sold to generate profit)...ah, what can I say...I'm happy to not have to eat there anymore, I'd rather live on bread-and-butter at home than to suffer lunches at Le Cafe. Ok guyz, let's all say it together now... *ABSTINENCE FROM LE CAFE'S FOOD GUARANTEES GOOD HEALTH AND LONGEVITY* =p

Still, I'll miss college, once I get past the initial "I'm Free!" feelin, I'll probably miss meeting friends and some of my lecturers....all those people who have helped me endure college life, lend a listening ear whenever I gripe and whine about the librarians (and give some of their own opinions of those librarians as well...you guys just lurve calling 'em 'Barbarians' don't you? =P), keep me sane and healthy throughout class-days monotony and 'deadly' assignment deadlines, help keep my head firmly on my neck whenever I get good grades (i.e. ensuring that I don't get my head in the clouds), and whenever I get not-so-good grades (i.e. ensuring that I don't chop off my own head in a remorseful act of self-punishment for not studying consistently =P). So here's a toast to college life, and a toast to all you who have survived college life, and to all those who came out alive after eating at Le Cafe ;) ...cheerz!

Pauline's first 'real' post...

"The man who does things makes many mistakes, but he doesn't
make the biggest mistake of all - doing nothing."
~ Benjamin Franklin ~

Just thought I'd put that quote for starters...one of my all-time favourites...motivating, and helps to give me a little kick on the butt to get me started whenever i feel like procrastinating (ah...typical me). In this context, the quote goes like "Pauline who does things (i.e. type this post) makes many mistakes, but she doesn't make the biggest mistake of all - doing nothing (i.e. not posting at all)". There...that should make Ben Franklin turn in his grave for twisting his words of wisdom. Still, that's what advice is for. To be applied in our daily lives. *winks cheekily*

So, without forgetting the preliminaries, here's a big hello to YOU (yes you, the one reading this =P) ...thankz for droppin' by and for actually taking the time to read my blog. Consider it an achievement to have read up til this point...most people do not have the patience to put up with my crap... =P ...Won't be introducing myself in this post as all neccessary information can be found by clicking on the "View my complete profile" hyperlink on your right (correct at the time this post was created, subject to change anytime due to moods, current situations i.e. How-I-Deal-With-Whatever-Life-Tosses-In-My-Direction, bouts of insanity, and the mere terrible fact that I'm unpredictable to the extent where even I myself cannot decipher the inner workings of my grey matter). With that said, do feel free to leave any comments on my blog, helps me to know that it does get read by fellow humans... *grins*

DISCLAIMER : Pauline will not be held liable for any damage to one's proper 'n' correct conduct of the english language, as a result of reading this blog; in regards to grammatical errors, misuse of terms, lack of vocabulary (repetitive usage of the word "hehe"), intentional and unintentional spelling errors, and mistakes in punctuation (got them scattered all over, in places that are not "in accordance with usage according to the Oxford dictionary"). Enuff said. ;)