No words, just an image

31 03 2009

Apart from the wrinkles.

But then again, I am turning 26 on Thursday…





Wide awake on a Monday night

31 03 2009

Really, I should be deep into my R.E.M. sleep stage right now. I can’t fall asleep though – a) I couldn’t remember what I was going to be doing with my freshmen tomorrow morning (I’ve got them first thing) and since it’s Romeo and Juliet I’ve really got to have the stuff ready. No winging it. Not that I do, anyway, of course… But seriously, it’s fun to go through stuff I’ve got in my head already; b) my head hurts, as it’s been hurting for the last 3 weeks. I need to get it checked out, but I’m thankful that my vision isn’t blurred, so it can’t be anything serious, right? It’s not a stabbing kind of pain, but I do wish it would just bloody go away now. I’m trying to arrange my timetable so I can go, and not miss any work.

Never thought I’d say that, but okay… 🙂

I don’t know whether I’m scared or excited.





A birthday coming up, and this is how…

28 03 2009

I’m turning 26 on April 2nd, and I’m deeply unsatisfied with the way things are. I want change, desperately so, and want to usher in the next phase of my life.

And this is a confession: I want to want you, but I can’t, because there’s just too much between us, and yet you’re the first person I think of when I think of that. I ache, and long for truth, for reality, and for clarity, because life is too short for sly games and manipulations.

This headache is kicking my ass and making me something I don’t like.





Another one

21 03 2009

I’ve had a constant headache since Sunday, and I’m afraid to get it checked out, in case it’s horrible, or nothing at all.

I have too much to do. But wouldn’t it be interesting if it were serious?





Today, I chose

16 03 2009

Feeling somewhat sick the whole day does not result in a constructive day by any stretch of the imagination. But I still hate it when students ask what I’ve graded, because there is always so much work (preparing, researching, writing amongst the many other things that I do in this stage of my life which, incidentally, makes eternity seem like the “jiffy” we often employ) that needs to be done. It’s sickening how much there is that needs to be done every day, and it really just makes me angry when they imply that I’ve done nothing because I haven’t finished grading one of their assignments. What do you do in a situation like that though? Respond or not? Honesty? Excuses? What?

Note to self: there are bigger issues at play here.

I literally salivate at the thought of resting during Spring Break. People have been asking about my plans, and my response is simple, heartfelt:
Sleep.

Met with my dissertation supervisor this afternoon, and found him to be humorous and very intelligent. Intimidatingly so. His background is in music in film, which sounds very interesting, and he said that the university needs a popular music scholar and I fantasized for a split second. It’s a good thing that I’m scared though as I’ll feel like I’m more accountable. Deadlines have been set: a complete bibliography by April 15, and an outline by May 15. But he was right – I need to sort out exactly what band I’ll be writing about and then going from there. I went and bought every CD I could find that was relevant and perhaps important, then came home to dinner and a slight bout of depression. Such is life.





Never before

15 03 2009

Since I became a teacher, I have been getting catching colds/bouts of the flu with increasing frequency, like every 6 weeks or so, I’m down with a cold for 3 days or something. I hate this aspect of the job, I really do.

On the up side, I’ll be doing better next year as I’ll be done with studying… just finished a midterm paper today, and so am feeling good in spite of the pouring sinuses and blastifying sneezes and foghorn-sounding blowing of the nose.

Why am I blogging when what I really should be doing is sleeping??





And tonight, after work.

6 03 2009

My maternal grandparents died 15 and 16 years ago. One of my grandmother’s good friends was Mrs. Leung. We never knew her full name, but we were terrified of her as she was tough as nails. She also was never seen without a cigarette clamped between her fingers, which tapered down to claws for her own nails. She had a penchant for swearing, and had a more colourful vocabulary than your typical construction site worker. She also gestured a lot – with her hands and with her head – and her gold or jade earrings would swing madly in her elongated ear-piercings. I was scared of her, but in awe of her too. She raised her husband’s children single-handedly as he worked and then eventually died. As I grew older, I had more and more admiration for her tenacity and steely glare at the waitress whi shortchanged us.

Tonight, after work, I went to Mrs. Leung’s funeral.

She died, in a hospital room, on her own. She was 84, possibly 89 because of the way the Lunar calendar counts the days of the year. It was a traditional Taoist ceremony, which she had painstakingly saved her pension for, and the various musicians and conductors of the ceremony did their thing as they were being paid to. Her family, as ramshackle and motley as they were, walked around the paper-and-glue effigies of bridges and houses, made to ensure a comfortable environment in the afterlife.

I did not weep until I went to the glass door by the back of the altar and saw her in repose. She looked so peaceful, so unreal… it broke my heart that the last time I saw her I did not take the time to speak with her. I eavesdropped on the conversation she had with my mum, and chuckled as she ranted and raved about her daughters-in-law, and their laziness around the flat.

Bye-bye, Leung por-por. I will miss you.