been re-watching "full house" starring rain and song hye kyo online. 16 episodes in 3 days. not bad, eh? hahaa. but now i have a problem. the "three bears" song playing in my head over and over again. even when i'm trying to sleep, i'm laughing because when i close my eyes i see rain doing the "three bears" dance. you tell me... how to sleep laughing?
the song goes like this:
three bears live in one house
father bear, mother bear, baby bear.
father bear is fat, fat ehh.
mother bear is slim, slim ehh.
baby bear is so cute,
and the end is basically, happy thing.
(click to see the "three bears" bloopers in the show)
i wonder how long this will last. somebody help me. hahahaa.
somewhere in the distant corner of daesi's brain, a familiar tune plays, "three bears live in one house. father bear, mother bear, baby bear. father bear is........."
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
It's finally over...
it's over! it's finally over!
after two months of emotional depression... it's over!
after two months of mental oppression... it's over!
after two months of seclusion in the lab (and in front of the computer)... it's over!
after two months of facing sour-faces... it's over!
after two months of enduring "interesting" personalities... it's over!
after two months of slicing up rats, sucking them blood-dry and rendering them organ-less... it's over!
after two months of cold-heartedly injecting rats with numbing chemical and watching them become helpless before my very own eyes... it's over!
after two months of cleaning up filthy rat cages (why don't we just toilet train them? so much easier)... it's over!
after two months of sleepless nights... it's over!
after two months of extreme pressure and zero pleasure... it's over!
after two months of long-suffering... it's over!
it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over...
it's OVER! IT'S OVERRRRR!!!!
WWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
happy. happy. happy.
MMUUUAAAHHAAAAHHAAAAHHHHAAHAHAAAAA!!
after two months of emotional depression... it's over!
after two months of mental oppression... it's over!
after two months of seclusion in the lab (and in front of the computer)... it's over!
after two months of facing sour-faces... it's over!
after two months of enduring "interesting" personalities... it's over!
after two months of slicing up rats, sucking them blood-dry and rendering them organ-less... it's over!
after two months of cold-heartedly injecting rats with numbing chemical and watching them become helpless before my very own eyes... it's over!
after two months of cleaning up filthy rat cages (why don't we just toilet train them? so much easier)... it's over!
after two months of sleepless nights... it's over!
after two months of extreme pressure and zero pleasure... it's over!
after two months of long-suffering... it's over!
it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over. it's over...
it's OVER! IT'S OVERRRRR!!!!
WWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
happy. happy. happy.
MMUUUAAAHHAAAAHHAAAAHHHHAAHAHAAAAA!!
Friday, February 9, 2007
A Bad Week
research project thesis is due on monday.
couldn't start on my thesis as soon as i wished to because i came down with a serious case of food poisoning the day after the completion of my research work.
if i sleep early, i wake up as early as 4am to work on my thesis. if i sleep late, i sleep around 4am. nights of maximum only 4 hours of sleep this week. when i'm not asleep, i'm reading journals and typing away. i hate typing now. period. i hate rats. i hate PPAR. i hate blood. i hate organs. i hate reports. lab-phobia. ha ha.
everyday drive to campus. if i don't go early, will be difficult to find an available parking lot later. if i go early, get stucked in the famous LDP-Sunway toll plaza traffic jam. not much of an option right?
right now? my eyes feel dehydrated and tired. my back hurts from sitting too long in front of the computer. my leg joints are numbed because i can't change much of my posture while sitting down. my fingers are sore from typing. my brain is giving way due to sleep deprivation and over-the-top brain-juice-squeezing while writing discussion points and digesting facts from journals.
presentation, originally on valentine's day, pushed forward to monday. because my supervisor going on holiday. sigh. nevermind. like that, i will also be on holiday earlier. can't wait.
i am the second to present on monday morning. cross my fingers, i would be able to present my research without blabbering and that i will be ready with my full armour to accurately answer whatever questions they shoot at me. not that i care about getting a HD (or even a D). i just don't want to embarrass myself.
nervous man.. i'll need all the prayers in the world right now. wish me luck.
couldn't start on my thesis as soon as i wished to because i came down with a serious case of food poisoning the day after the completion of my research work.
if i sleep early, i wake up as early as 4am to work on my thesis. if i sleep late, i sleep around 4am. nights of maximum only 4 hours of sleep this week. when i'm not asleep, i'm reading journals and typing away. i hate typing now. period. i hate rats. i hate PPAR. i hate blood. i hate organs. i hate reports. lab-phobia. ha ha.
everyday drive to campus. if i don't go early, will be difficult to find an available parking lot later. if i go early, get stucked in the famous LDP-Sunway toll plaza traffic jam. not much of an option right?
right now? my eyes feel dehydrated and tired. my back hurts from sitting too long in front of the computer. my leg joints are numbed because i can't change much of my posture while sitting down. my fingers are sore from typing. my brain is giving way due to sleep deprivation and over-the-top brain-juice-squeezing while writing discussion points and digesting facts from journals.
presentation, originally on valentine's day, pushed forward to monday. because my supervisor going on holiday. sigh. nevermind. like that, i will also be on holiday earlier. can't wait.
i am the second to present on monday morning. cross my fingers, i would be able to present my research without blabbering and that i will be ready with my full armour to accurately answer whatever questions they shoot at me. not that i care about getting a HD (or even a D). i just don't want to embarrass myself.
nervous man.. i'll need all the prayers in the world right now. wish me luck.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
A Case of Unfortunate Event
this clumsy-klutzy girl here cut her index finger last saturday while sectioning tissue samples using the microtome (part of research project). sigh.
it was an accident *of course*... happened in a split second without me realizing anything when i was changing the blade to a new, sharper one (change is required because after sectioning 4-6 samples it kinda gets too blunt to section anything nicely). the blade was so sharp that i did NOT feel any pain when i cut my finger. i didn't even realize that i cut my finger until i took a look at my finger and saw many, many red drops dripping from two ends of my finger... blood lah.
the cut is pretty big. measured it with a ruler cuz my mom thought and insisted that it was half-an-inch. much to her horror, it was a longer than half-an-inch.. it was a long nasty 1.9cm cut. just under an inch long. then for a few days she kept telling me, "aiyah.. ni ah.. wei she me bu zao yi dian gen wo shuo.. huo zhe gei wo kan yi xia ba. fang cheng hai lai de ji chu yi yuan stitch up mah. hai jiang bu chang, bu shen. tsk tsk tsk."
in case of those who doesn't understand mandarin, my mom was basically lecturing me for not showing or telling her how big and how deep the cut was soon enough to get to the hospital to get stitches. now you gonna get a scar.
but it was so difficult getting the cut to stop bleeding that i was so reluctant to remove the band aid. it took no less than 20 minutes to half-an-hour to stop the bleeding. seriously. even i couldn't believe my eyes when i saw so much blood coming out of that little finger of mine, that even my left hand turn pale white. my family doctor would be ecstatic and overjoyed to collect that much amount of blood that i loss in a vial cuz she always find it sooo hard to draw blood from my invisible veins for my annual blood checkup.
now. injury cannot kena water. so showering also difficult. activity using fingers limited. cannot play piano. typing also slowed down. because left index finger is on MC. good thing i can drive with only my right hand.
sssiiiiigggghhhhhh.
by the looks of the cut just now (while i was changing to a new band aid), i think and i really think it's gonna be one big and ugly scar.
nnnnoooooooooooooooooooooo... no guy would want a girl with a scarred finger. kill me. just kill me now.
it was an accident *of course*... happened in a split second without me realizing anything when i was changing the blade to a new, sharper one (change is required because after sectioning 4-6 samples it kinda gets too blunt to section anything nicely). the blade was so sharp that i did NOT feel any pain when i cut my finger. i didn't even realize that i cut my finger until i took a look at my finger and saw many, many red drops dripping from two ends of my finger... blood lah.
the cut is pretty big. measured it with a ruler cuz my mom thought and insisted that it was half-an-inch. much to her horror, it was a longer than half-an-inch.. it was a long nasty 1.9cm cut. just under an inch long. then for a few days she kept telling me, "aiyah.. ni ah.. wei she me bu zao yi dian gen wo shuo.. huo zhe gei wo kan yi xia ba. fang cheng hai lai de ji chu yi yuan stitch up mah. hai jiang bu chang, bu shen. tsk tsk tsk."
in case of those who doesn't understand mandarin, my mom was basically lecturing me for not showing or telling her how big and how deep the cut was soon enough to get to the hospital to get stitches. now you gonna get a scar.
but it was so difficult getting the cut to stop bleeding that i was so reluctant to remove the band aid. it took no less than 20 minutes to half-an-hour to stop the bleeding. seriously. even i couldn't believe my eyes when i saw so much blood coming out of that little finger of mine, that even my left hand turn pale white. my family doctor would be ecstatic and overjoyed to collect that much amount of blood that i loss in a vial cuz she always find it sooo hard to draw blood from my invisible veins for my annual blood checkup.
now. injury cannot kena water. so showering also difficult. activity using fingers limited. cannot play piano. typing also slowed down. because left index finger is on MC. good thing i can drive with only my right hand.
sssiiiiigggghhhhhh.
by the looks of the cut just now (while i was changing to a new band aid), i think and i really think it's gonna be one big and ugly scar.
nnnnoooooooooooooooooooooo... no guy would want a girl with a scarred finger. kill me. just kill me now.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
My addiction. My confession.
i have an addiction. a serious one. really. no kidding.
so serious that it controls my emotions, my mood, my mental state, everything.
it started out with this.
"full house"
and then this came along.
"mischievous princess"
then the addiction became more serious with this.
"white robe of love"
after this one, there was no turning back. my current addiction.
"it started with a kiss"
addiction to korean and taiwanese dramas. no cure. how??
help!! somebody? anybody?
wo wan le (i'm doomed).
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The hardest thing
i was just reading a post on a blog, by someone i knew but don't really know from high school, about his argument with his father. i was envious.
so you think i must be mad to be envious at him for having several sharp exchange of words with his father? yes. as a matter of fact, think what you will because i really am envious at the fact that he could and/or had the guts to quarrel with his dad, envious at his courage that he was able to take his stand and argue.
because for me, i can hardly remember the last time i ever spoken or quarreled or raised my voice against my own father. for fear of incurring his wrath and temper which lasts for days and sometimes weeks. all my life i've followed and listened to almost everything he tells me to do. he tells me to finish my music studies, i endured through it even though i hated my first two teachers to the very core. he tells me to go to this and that church, i follow. it was so hard leaving all and starting afresh, fitting in and all while growing up.
the hardest thing was to leave all the friends i've made, grew up with and become so accustomed to. the hardest thing was to really open up and trying to fit into the new crowd with a different culture, but i am always hesitant... because at the back of my mind, there was always fear of leaving. again. i feel emotionally detached whenever i'm in a new church. i used to be friendly and approachable.
i remembered when i left the first church - the church in which i accepted Jesus as my Saviour, grew up with and loved dearly. like any other normal person, i would have never entertain the thought or giving in to any bribes to leave this church. that was how dedicated i was and how much the church meant to me.
then tragedy strucked. a betrayal. a rude awakening. people change. we had to leave. it was painful. what was more painful was that i could not even attend the farewell (and the last) youth gathering. no parting hugs, tears of sadness, last moments of laughter and prayer together. tears were shed alone. pain was endured alone. i never got to say goodbye.
now when we see each other, it is a great joy. sincere happiness. but where do we start? how do we even continue from where we left off? at what point did our relationship just went dormant? would it be the same as before? it's just so hard to start all over again. so, so hard.
sometimes i wished my dad would just stop telling me what to do. i'm not implying that he's bad cuz he's absolutely not. in fact, he's the greatest dad in the world and i would never trade any other for him. it's just that i wished he gave me some space. let me do what i really love for once, without him telling or implying to me all the time what he prefers that i do.
feeling kinda like Pinocchio. able to do things you want, but not everything as you want it.
people often think that being a second or third generation Christian, you would have breezed through your Christian life. what more as a pastor's child. to put the fact bluntly, it is not. i think it's even harder. i believe no matter what, you would encounter problems and dilemmas. although they may not be the same, they will be there regardless.
sometimes i really do wish i had just one teeny bit of my sister's bravery to tell my dad exactly what i want, what i felt lead by God to do and do it. i just want to belong to a church. permanently. no more church hopping. no leaving irregardless of whatsoever. for me, a church should be one where you go, grow, love and never wanna leave. you shouldn't feel used. it's just as simple as that. yet it's complicated. i have found a church like that. i want him to know and i want his blessing but i'm so afraid to tell him. i used to be brave. what happened to me?
i guess this is pretty much why i always wanted to go overseas to study. i am never on my own. probably in my subconscious mind, i hope that this would be a release for me. that i can finally breathe.
so you think i must be mad to be envious at him for having several sharp exchange of words with his father? yes. as a matter of fact, think what you will because i really am envious at the fact that he could and/or had the guts to quarrel with his dad, envious at his courage that he was able to take his stand and argue.
because for me, i can hardly remember the last time i ever spoken or quarreled or raised my voice against my own father. for fear of incurring his wrath and temper which lasts for days and sometimes weeks. all my life i've followed and listened to almost everything he tells me to do. he tells me to finish my music studies, i endured through it even though i hated my first two teachers to the very core. he tells me to go to this and that church, i follow. it was so hard leaving all and starting afresh, fitting in and all while growing up.
the hardest thing was to leave all the friends i've made, grew up with and become so accustomed to. the hardest thing was to really open up and trying to fit into the new crowd with a different culture, but i am always hesitant... because at the back of my mind, there was always fear of leaving. again. i feel emotionally detached whenever i'm in a new church. i used to be friendly and approachable.
i remembered when i left the first church - the church in which i accepted Jesus as my Saviour, grew up with and loved dearly. like any other normal person, i would have never entertain the thought or giving in to any bribes to leave this church. that was how dedicated i was and how much the church meant to me.
then tragedy strucked. a betrayal. a rude awakening. people change. we had to leave. it was painful. what was more painful was that i could not even attend the farewell (and the last) youth gathering. no parting hugs, tears of sadness, last moments of laughter and prayer together. tears were shed alone. pain was endured alone. i never got to say goodbye.
now when we see each other, it is a great joy. sincere happiness. but where do we start? how do we even continue from where we left off? at what point did our relationship just went dormant? would it be the same as before? it's just so hard to start all over again. so, so hard.
sometimes i wished my dad would just stop telling me what to do. i'm not implying that he's bad cuz he's absolutely not. in fact, he's the greatest dad in the world and i would never trade any other for him. it's just that i wished he gave me some space. let me do what i really love for once, without him telling or implying to me all the time what he prefers that i do.
feeling kinda like Pinocchio. able to do things you want, but not everything as you want it.
people often think that being a second or third generation Christian, you would have breezed through your Christian life. what more as a pastor's child. to put the fact bluntly, it is not. i think it's even harder. i believe no matter what, you would encounter problems and dilemmas. although they may not be the same, they will be there regardless.
sometimes i really do wish i had just one teeny bit of my sister's bravery to tell my dad exactly what i want, what i felt lead by God to do and do it. i just want to belong to a church. permanently. no more church hopping. no leaving irregardless of whatsoever. for me, a church should be one where you go, grow, love and never wanna leave. you shouldn't feel used. it's just as simple as that. yet it's complicated. i have found a church like that. i want him to know and i want his blessing but i'm so afraid to tell him. i used to be brave. what happened to me?
i guess this is pretty much why i always wanted to go overseas to study. i am never on my own. probably in my subconscious mind, i hope that this would be a release for me. that i can finally breathe.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Being the Bridesmaid
fifteen years ago, i was a flowergirl. fifteen days ago, i was a bridesmaid. not like i never knew this day was coming. i was naturally my sister's bridesmaid. it was just a matter of when :)being the bridesmaid is tough fun. with two hands and a little help from my mom, i had to help my sister...
- hold her train when she's walking
- hold her cup of drink with a straw.. can't afford to drink it direct from the cup and ruin the few-hundred-dollar makeup right?
- babysit the flowergirl, which is the part i love most.
- hold stack of tissues for wiping sweat and in case of makeup going haywire (think mascara) or any crying (think mascara again)
- hold flower bouquets. initially mine and hers.. then gave mine to the flowergirl cuz she loved it.
all these while walking around with long dress and high heels. good thing i'm used to walking with heels. and all these while being fully made up. kekok betul. adding on to that, i didn't even get to eat anything at the church itself. all i had was one big mug of milo in the morning. enough to sustain me.
it was ok lah, the bridesmaid thing. not crazily hectic or nightmare-ish. maybe because we share this certain understanding and bond as sisters. so we're kinda biasa with each other.. i knew what she wanted most of the time and she was really kind in her demands.
but if you want me as a bridesmaid next time, nombor yang anda dail tiada lagi dalam perkhidmatan terima kasih.. the number you have dialed... :P
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
