Saturday, May 31

"You Singaporeans just don't want to go home, do you? It's like going back to prison."

This was said to me by a guy from Sydney, whose boyfriend is from Singapore and a friend of a friend. They both just moved to London to look for work, and of course, to be together. It's so cute how they are setting up home, scavenging for furniture from the trash, cooking for each other, just doing simple things that couples take for granted.

Then, there is this Malay-Chinese couple I know who are also reluctant return home after studying here for four years, cos they know her ultra-strict Muslim parents will never approve of him. So they are holed up in a cosy flat in London, sort of "us against the world" kinda thing.

And of course, there is me. Not that I'm in love -- with anyone or with London -- and there is nothing concrete holding me here, yet I'm not ready to leave. I just want this break from "real life" to go on for a bit longer.

So, is London a haven? Or is Singapore a prison?

Friday, May 30

For the first time in eight months, I managed to wear just a T-shirt to go out [erm, I was wearing a skirt too, in case you think all I had on was a top]. I do believe summer is here at last. And like typical Vitamin D-deprived folks, we all dashed out to the lawn to bask in the amazing 30 deg C sun, behaving as if the miracle of sunshine might disappear the next day. Which could very well happen, considering how unpredictable the weather here is.

To make the glorious day even more glorious, I met a gorgeous Ozzie hunk -- with voice of Heath Ledger and butt of Mel Gibson -- and allowed him to inflict pain on me. Ooh, kinky huh? Nah, it was yet another paid psych experiment to test tolerance levels. I had to place my palms on hot [48 deg C] and cold [0 deg C] metal plates for as long as I could, and my blood pressure was monitored. I never knew 48 deg C felt like I was being teppanyaki-ed. Ah, the sacrifices I'm willing to make in the name of well as a fiver.

Thursday, May 29

Pardon the morbidity, but recurring insomnia has returned in full force, hence the need to compose bad poetry. Sleep is so elusive...

Poverty-stricken student that I am, I have resorted to becoming a guinea pig for the countless psychology experiments taking place in college. Just earned five quid [that's S$15] yesterday from giving comments after touring a virtual reality garden for five minutes.

I've also sold my recent memories to another psych student, who is doing an experiment about recollection of emotions and events or something touchy-feely like that. She tried to make me cry by asking me about leaving Singapore -- "And how did saying goodbye make you feeeeel?" -- but it didn't work. Another easy tenner. And then there was this dead boring colour-matching test, which nearly put me to sleep. I think I missed half the questions when my eyes glazed over, but still managed to make some money.

Tomorrow, I'm supposed to abstain from cigarettes, alcohol, caffeine, mobile phones, bathing and sex -- just kidding! -- for two hours before doing yet another experiment. This one sounds very fun, actually. It's a test of how anxious and fearful you are. I hope there are no butterflies involved though.

Wednesday, May 28

In an attempt to lose my winter blubber, I over-ambitiously cut back on meat last week. Well, I am happy to report that in seven days, the only meat I have eaten is a small packet of smoked salmon, 10 mini sausages of unknown meat origin and half a tin of tuna. Not bad, considering what a carnivore I am. And for the first time in my life, I am actually eating the required five portions of fruit and veggie daily. I feel overly healthy actually. No sign of my fat cheeks deflating though.

After reading what I just wrote, I remembered all the reasons for not starting this web blog in the first place -- I don't want to turn into a self-absorbed navel-gazer who thinks the whole world is interested in what I ingest daily. Next, I'd prolly degenerate to describing the colour of my poo [although I do know some of you would be rather intrigued by all matters relating to poo].

So, back to what I was rambling on about before I started talking crap -- I am still undecided whether this baring of my soul is a good idea. I mean, there might be retribution in store for me, for mocking a certain shameless 18-year-old hussy's online musings in the past. You would think that after three years of writing for a newspaper, I would be comfortable with people reading my words, but no. This really feels weird, like I'm publishing my diary or something. [Wait. I am indeed publishing my diary. Except I'm leaving out the bits where I whine: "WHY ME????? WHY WHY WHY???]

But on the other hand, there is something unexpectedly therapeutic about this stream of consciousness writing. And hey, I'm hoping in some way, this will be a way of letting all those who care know that I'm still alive and leading a perfectly ordinary life. And perhaps, this might do a better job of staying in touch than my sporadic emails and constant complaints about the weather.

So, gimme a shout out if you think I should continue with this inane monologue. Or just tell me to shut up.

Tuesday, May 27

Only one hundred or so days left in London...

After putting things off for 265 days -- incredible even by the standards of this great procrastinator -- I have at last set up this long overdue website or blog or online diary or whatever you wanna call it.

It's nothing grand, just a little peek into my so-called life here for those of you back home.

To those I haven't been writing to as often as I wish, I'm so so so sorry, but you know how that lousy excuse about being too busy goes. As for those non-replying people who dare call themselves my friends, well, shame on you. Being busy is no excuse. [See, this is my space, and I can impose all kinds of double standards. Bleah!]

Anyway, a whirlwind update of my life so far: a few tears on the plane to London, 11 new classmates and 7 new flatmates from the United Colours of Benetton catalogue, a teeny tiny room, way too much lousy Brit TV shows, quite a few pints of beer, numerous experiments and accidents in the kitchen, frantic last minute work on school assignments...that about sums up the boring story so far.

Kinda overwhelmed now by the thought that this is almost coming to an end, just when I have settled into a comfortable routine. On the one hand, I miss everyone at home, I miss the food, I even miss the humidity. But on the other hand, I'm not ready yet to go home.

Oh well, let the countdown begin...