I don't have anything substantial to write. Im writing only cus i can. The last 2 weeks have been horrendous beyond imagination, climaxing with an awful mortuary visit that ram4hire has so eloquently described in his blog.
From family emergencies to career pitfalls, I saw a myraid of negative energy looming around me and as i was so very convinced that it had to do with the planetary alignments, no one could be looking forward to the aftermath of 12th July as much as i am (wise one told me it all ends on 12th July).
I trugde on the start of the week with much trepidation. Hopefully, after the series of unfortunate events, things could only go upwards from here. No?

ringing tone in head: ella, ella, eh eh eh, under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh eh eh,under my umbrella......

No, dun get deceived by the subject matter. I am NOT having any affair with any frenchies (haiz). Well, not unless you consider a maniacal soccer fanatic like myself going absolutely googoo gaagaa over one of France's hottest things on earth, (otherwise known as Thierry Henry) as a french affair.

My affair started in 2001, when i happened to chance upon a match on tele and this dude, full of attitude written all over his face caught my attention. And boy, did he play beautiful football! My love for him transcended beyond just that pretty face and i started seeing the game for what it is -the most beautiful game on earth as some fondly call it. Arsenal, the team, became my life and breath. I cheered when they won, cried when they lost and spouted vulgarities when they played like idiots.

25th June, 2007. The day my french affair died, a most pitiful, detestful death. Henry made a deal to move to Barcelona, the one team i hate with all my guts. I felt gutted yesterday. Almost like as if i was grieving someone's death. I have cried and moped around the house for the past coupla days mourning his impending departure. He is no longer my arsenal boy.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. And here comes the end of my french affair. The affair with one man has ended, but it blazes on strongly with the other 11 men from the team.

The end of the beginning. Au revoir Henry.

Current Mood: melancholy

So i've been hearing lots abt Born into brothels, the movie. Been dying to watch it, but u know, heavy, sentimental, emotive movies are not everybody's cuppa tea. Whilst being my usual ruminating self, i couldnt help but think back to another book with a similar running theme. A book which touched me deeply and left me pondering about certain aspects of life. Certain very cliche aspects like "true love".

"Eleven minutes" by Paulo Coelho. The book revolves around the character Maria, a brazilian gal, who after finding utter disappointment in her first love, convinced that she'll never be able to find "true love" again, ends up working in the streets as a prostitute; only to find that sex as an occupation is not all that cheap as people perceive it to be, and there is a certain sense of fascination attached to it.

Fascination that perhaps not all can empathise with.

what intrigued me most abt the book was her belief on "true love". The existence (or non-existence?) of it, the jaded cynical person who emerged as a result, shunned by society for the choice she makes, and yet, is determined that the one only true thing is this world is materialistic worth. And then, ironically, she meets the love of her life. (its always happily ever after isnt it?)

And i sat on my bed wondering, after completing the book, on whether "true loves' exist. A friend and i were recently having a dicussion about the "spark". What it means to have a "spark" for someone and is all doomed when the renowned spark is not present? Im a highly visual person by nature so spark for me = multi-coloured streaks of electrifying energy sparks flying out of them in a fireworks kinda mannerism when they touch each other. Apparently im wrong. (yes, shit happens)

I had no answers for her. Yesh, i recall the butterflies in the stomach, the feeling weak in the knees syndrome, the feeling of nausea(+ve nausea) when the certain someone walks into the room. But does all this constitute spark? Is spark then, a purely biological, physical phenomenon that takes place when one human organism interacts with another? or does it have anything to do with the cosmic notion of "true love"? The gush of emotions one feels when you meet "the one"?

And what happens if you dont find "the one"? Or wait a second, is there really only ONE person out there for each of us? I would like to think that there are many "the ones" for each of us. Who we end up with ultimately, may be all about the TIME. The right person at the right time. I mean, what better example than the prince of denmark hitting on an average ozzie chick sitting next to him at the bar counter and bingo, he ends up making her his royal princess? (moral of the story: never under-estimate the guy sitting next to you at the bar counter)

I have my own theories on "the one" and the "soul-mate" and wat not. But the spark talk.. you got me. Im clueless as a git. As is my friend. Chemistry, sparks, pheromones...pure, bio-psychological human instincts or a convenient excuse to not hook up with someone?

Current Mood: contemplative

I feel it. Its the planetary alignments. Things just havent been good for me
of late.. and i jus cant put my finger on it.

I cant find nasi briyani, my house gets flooded, i get a major low thanks to someone midweek.. and today... (i shan't go into detail). hhmmm. small things u may say. I agree. but sometimes it takes a really small straw to break the camel's back?

4 more hours for dance lesson. can't wait.
tick tock tick tock.

so, i had a craving today (no, im not preggie, i get cravings once in a while). last week, it was magnum ice cream. Today,it was nasi briyani, done malay style. With colourful yellow and orange rice, topped with thick curry and floating oil and juicy succulent chicken thighs.

Background tip: after the drinking riot on sat nite, the little stomach has been slightly quesy and hence i had little choice but to resort to liquid diet for the past couple of days. Today lunch was sick man's food: porridge. so little can you blame me when mid afternoon my mind starting wondering, imagining colourful rice and aromatic curry, and suddenly bingo, i knew wat i wanted. Nasi briyani,and not just ANY nasi briyani, but specifically malay style nasi briyani.

so off i went on a rendezvous, in search for the perfect nasi briyani. ok, in truth, i didnt need it to be perfect. Just colourful rice and oily thick curry would have sufficed. We (MM and i) devised the perfect plan. West coast food market, well known for their famous indian/malay stalls with the delectable range of great unhealthy food. We drove in quiet anticipation, my stomach already making helpless large yelps of hunger pangs. we turned into the carpark of west coast food market and.. it was empty.. hang on a minute, a good food market in singapore empty? absolutely not feasible. A banner hanging from the middle of nowhere greeted us. "Closed for mass cleaning from 11-12th June. Reopening on 13th June". i cursed my luck. talk abt murphy's law! we endeavoured on. No biggie right? i mean, whats the big deal if one of the top 2 indian/malay food places in the west was closed for "mass cleaning" on the very day that i get a craving for nasi briyani.

I dun need famous nasi briyani. Any bits of colourful rice and thick curry would have been OK! (have i said that already?) So we trudged on... (yeah, i had a mental image of us trooping on like soldiers in search of eternal glory). So west coast ditched us. no worries matey, there's always bukit batok! we went to the next best malay restaurant that we know ard our god-forsaken district. we turned ard at the bend...looks promising. pple mulling ard, some eating.. yes, there seems to be hope yet... lights...shop appears open.. and yes, business is on! Hope blossomed in my heart. MM went off to recce for my nasi briyani and returned less than a minute later. They had everything else but briyani... but alas, i wasnt craving for prata, nor nasi goreng. (Im very specific a person, if you havent figured already)

we went ard looking in 3 more shops... from west coast to bukit batok, to bukit panjang.. i was out there, looking for nasi briyani for an hour.. with no luck. and then it hit me at 758pm. perhaps this is what destiny is all about? its there.. right there all the time, right under our noses. how difficult would it have been for me to have nasi briyani on any other ordinary day? but today, it was no mean feat. and i wasn't getting any. I couldnt help but wonder about the mysterious ways of the phenomenon we term as fate/destiny. it humbled me, to say the least.

i settled for briyani-Indian style. dang. life is like a box of chocolates.