431kmh/h at 14:21; Shanghai

23rd June 2009, 3.13pm

I have arrived, and dustily so. Have successfully navigated my way around a foreign country and its transport system which, in my opinion, might as well be monolingual.

Did you know that the gantry gates to the MRT in Shanghai look exactly like the ones in Singapore? Right down to the colour of the arrows on the sidebars. Only they haven't learnt the automated gates technique.

I have become extremely excited about being in new, unexplored land and kept smiling to myself in the MRT (Two Chinese boys thought I was a very queer personage).

On a sidenote, Shanghai's mulptiple unpaved roads and trolley bags do not make a good match. I keep clanking around.

Ethereal Places; Shanghai

23rd June 2009; 7.14am
So this is what the waking earth looks like.

(Although at this point of time, booking an 8.05am flight is an act that can only be termed as overly enthusiastic/optimistic)

I am sleepy but at the same time, so thrilled and exhilarated. It makes a strange combination because while part of me wants to run around the the travellators at the airport, another part wants to curl up on them and fall asleep to the hum of its strange lullaby, amidst unsuspecting travellers.

I can't remember the last time I walked so slowly.

And when it was 11 minutes to Gate A21 (nowadays they tell you how many more minutes it is to your gate which is crazy since people only care when they are late and when they are late, they will be late regardless of whether they know the time or not), I got scared. Of being alone; of getting lost.

Did you know that the colour of morning is a greyish green, with threads of gold?

In Between Here And Now; Shanghai

23rd June 2009; 4.40am

When you finally admit to yourself that you’re not sure of who you really are, the world becomes infinite. There’s nothing left to keep you in, but there’s also nothing left to keep you from falling off the edge of the earth. This uncertainty is terribly frightening, but it’s also oddly liberating: when nothing’s for sure, how many mistakes can you possibly make?

This, I guess, is my really strange way of explaining why I bought a plane ticket for one to Shanghai.

It's not true.
Only an afterthought, the pause after the full stop.
Have always been.

Lessons From History

Who would have thought that the ghost of Edna and her ATQs would still linger, among the residual remains of my Contract essay, no less. Although I really should be ashamed of myself, since ATQing should come naturally to any self-respecting Edna humanities student, it was one of those Sudden Grin moments that made everything seem less bleak.

But still, to ignore lesson from history would be undue folly. So now we know that the moment you get your exam paper, one should scrawl a large ATQ with vehement exclamation marks in some hideous colour, think of Crocs, and write as though your very life depended on it. Which was often true, in Edna's class.

Bless her and her ATQs, wherever she is.

In A Manner Of Speaking

A quiet Sunday afternoon, and I re-discover Jason Mraz's music. He reminds me that there is still beauty in the world, value in dreams and that not all pursuits are mindless.

I think I now understand Kaye's mania with him.

You've got the best of both worlds
You're the kind of girl who can take down a man,
And lift him back up again
You are strong but you're needy,
Humble but you're greedy
And based on your body language,
And shoddy cursive I've been reading
Your style is quite selective,
Though your mind is rather reckless
Well I guess it just suggests
That this is just what happiness is

-- Jason Mraz; A Beautiful Mess

Happy Ducks and Bathtubs

I am really very pleased that I have procured blue soap to match my blue shampoo and conditioner. This fits in very well with the general turquoise and white of my bathroom. (:

IhavetosaythatIsnuckmypinkraspberryshampooinwhichwhichkindof
destroysthecolourthemebutohwellweallhaveourvices.

In Between The Morning and You

I eat a passion-fruit, two halves actually;
And watch the lone cherry barb swim on my bookshelf
Beside The Lovely Bones and Eleanor Rigby
Oh wondrous night
I wish you'd never end