this entry took so long to get to print because, right after writing it, i thumbed through my archives and didn't feel like posting it anymore. however, now, unlike then, i'm on yet another Starbucks Double-Shot Expresso.
news to me:
- Matt watches soccer
- 'chihuahua' is supposedly a legitimate basis on which to write a song, and following that, an entire ad campaign for a world-renowned and maybe respected brand of cola
- Jessica Simpson can't differentiate chicken and fish, and wonders which catergory tuna falls under
- Lene Nystrom likes Linkin Park and names them as part of her inspiration
- Hillary Duff supposedly can sing
+ Shirley Manson will give away an award at the MTV European Music Awards
- but Christina Aguilera will be hosting it
- Chris Martin is dating Gywneth Paltrow
-- she supposedly will sing on Coldplay's third album
+ MTV Whatever Things actually has some rather good gags
- but they play some rather crappy videos in between
+ Nokia realizes its mistake with the oddly-keypadded 3650 and is releasing the new 3660 with a new 65 536-color screen and a normal keypad
- but the new keypad is squeezed back into the same circular shape and thus looks even worse
-- Nokia's new 7600 is a freak of a teardrop/leaf/coaster/slice of bread 3G phone
+ it's also a good means with which to laugh at Nokia
as above: the world has gone off its rocker. matt and pat have had some rift form between them, but continue to horse around in class, one chasing the other, holding hands, etc. i suspect it's all a farce, but whether it's for fooling the general public or fooling themselves is beyond me.
reading the old entries in my blog makes me wanna cry. that's partly why the link to the archives still read 'coming soon' for now - i can't seem to get them organized, re-reading instead of sorting them. aren't you supposed to look back at old diary/journal/blog entries and laugh?
i have betrayed my Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf loyalty and discovered the Starbucks Double Shot Expresso. five bucks of coffee squeezed into a small, dinky, little plastic cup, basically prescription-free, temporary prozac. if you don't believe me there are people who were at the post-prelim-pre-O-Level Physics Practial that have witnessed its effects.
Happy Aaron: As Rare As A Garbage Fan In Singapore
i just went to see my grandfather today [Lim side], the first time since his bypass operation. he looked frail, old and skinny. the scars of his operation looked painful. it's good he made it, after weeks of the ICU, but is he really happy to be? his blood sugar levels have risen since, and he now needs insulin injections three times daily, which my maid travels out to Ang Mo Kio for, because my uncle and aunt-in-law work, and my grandmother isn't really the best person to be giving away insulin injections. plus my maid is a trained nurse [or nurse's aide. can't remember which].
on the Khoo side of the family, my other grandfather [92 years old as of Febuary], is not in the pink of health either. having slipped and fallen recently, his left arm is still in a sling, and he can just barely feed himself. he really wants to see his favorite son, which happens to be my dear and loving father, and we haven't seen him since he returned from Cheena at the start of the SARS scare [roughly end-April/May].
if a repeat of what happened when my grandmother passed away occurs, this time i won't forgive him. years ago, when she was about to pass on, my first aunt called my mother to get us to go see him, but our dear father was doing [likely illegal/underhand/unscruplous] business in Malaysia. the second time she called, my father wasn't feeling well. when my father finally called them back, it was my second aunt [the handicapped one] who picked up, and she was kept in the dark because she's extremely emotional. so, my father was told that grandmother was fine. seeing no need to see his own mother if she didn't appear to be dying, the bastard fucked off to go do his own thing.
that night, my grandmother who had been sitting in her chair facing the door, waiting and hoping for her favorite son to show up, asked about my father. by then my first aunt was so angry with my father that he just told my grandmother not to wait for him; he's not coming.
that night, she passed away. when we were called and informed, my father whisked us away from our Shaik Madersah Lane to their Geylang Lorong 3 in the Mazda 323 Astina, arrived at the scene and promotly kneeled by my grandmother's side, making what i thought at that time was, and actually still do, a big show of crying and shouting, likely blaming my aunt for not telling him earlier.
the young primary-school me sat in silence on my aunt's bed in the same room, looking sadly at my grandmother's body. my three siblings, too young to understand the goings-on, nevertheless sat quietly next to me, looking out the window, up at the ceiling, down on the floor.
needless to say, my first aunt, whom my grandparents ignored [compared to the whims, money, BMWs and Porsches lavished on my father], and who had to find her own means of sending herself to England to study, but loved/loves them, never forgave my father, and, rightly, still hasn't.
i don't think my father's going to make it this time, either.
"He said I'm going to buy this place and see it go
Stand here beside my baby watch the orange glow
Some'll laugh and some just sit and cry
But you just sit down there and you wonder why
So I'm going to buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
And I'm going to buy this place, that's what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head
And honey
All the movements you're starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without a trace
And they call as they beckon you on
They said start as you mean to go on
As you mean to go on, as you mean to go on
So meet me by the bridge, meet me by the lane
When am I going to see that pretty face again
Meet me on the road, meet me where I said
Blame it all upon
A rush of blood to the head"
- "A Rush Of Blood To The Head", Coldplay
