Wednesday, August 16, 2006

fuming at myself; gripe alert!

In the unlikely event that I actually have kids of my own, I swear I'm going to make them learn French, German and Italian - on top of English and Chinese (and yes, Dominic, Singlish too). And the piano. And the violin. And they should have perfect-pitch. And sing in tune. And learn how to swim. And at least, learn how to sew and cook yummy food. And maybe the oboe. And the trombone. And they must learn how to whistle and catch flies with their hands. But I digress.

There is nothing more infuriating, than spending hours searching for the obscure but integral articles/journals which you need for for your coursework, only to find out that they are encrypted and encoded with funny letters and symbols, which make no sense whatsoever. At least, it's all nonsense to me. I might as well use it for toilet paper. Okay, that's a bit uncalled for. I'll use them to swat the summer flies which invade my room at exactly 1237hrs everyday.

And I can't believe that Senate House doesn't have the opera score which I need. This means a possible trip down to the British Library, and oh boy - THE HASSLE. ID cards, tight security, fighting for appointments, you can't even turn the pages with your own hands. And there's no point in going down, really - you can't borrow anything out of the library, and there's the copyright rule.

And there's some wanker blasting Indian music at 424hr in the morning. I'm all for promoting the love of enthomusicology, but please, do so at a decent time. If not, I promise to let loose Strauss's Salome on you tomorrow from 0200-0600hrs. It's a beautiful opera, but you can't understand it anyway. And that's not my problem. Just like how it's not my problem that I don't appreciate your Indian music. So we're quits.

And what's with the cold and dreary weather in London right now! It's August! AUGUST!

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

panicking.
lunch.
three unrelated photos.
quattro formaggi, cover my eyes.
do not wake me up when September ends.
vell, the point i vonted to make woz J L J L J L J.
feeling pained.
oversleeping.
one thing at a time.
I bet you're an Aunty at heart too.

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.