Float on

I must say, the spirit of celebration resides even in this sleepy and stoned self. On friday, the girls had a xmas feast at Priscilla's place where I savored the food in full delight. My plate was a battle field of turkey meat, a broken spoon and a broken fork. Yesterday I had a pleasant surprise when Jing, Sam and Christine arrived early with Santa's gift (one would usually expect Santa at midnight). But I'm glad they came anyway, and so I tagged along with them and Clar. We visited several houses all through the night till early morning. It was a really fun experience! :) I followed dad to church today - this is my tradition - to accompany the sole Christian in the family to church once a year for xmas. Yup, I made my fluttery appearance again this year. Enfin, I received a suitcase filled with warm winter hand-me-downs (nonetheless very cool hand-me-downs from the cool sister up in L.A) and an awesome Miss Sixties coat.

Despite these moments of nostalgia and happiness that xmas is here, I am afraid I have to be a wet blanket and return to bed because I am really tired! G'night world!

Maybe a little faith would do me good

I spent 4 days sewing this dress only to realize that the top portion is too big for me. I've to unpick the whole top part, re-cut, and re-stitch everything back on. Fucking stupid...didn't foresee the difference the material would make. Pfft. Perhaps if I keep my arms close to my body at all times...




(click to see larger image. because the cloth is too damn pretty. credits to bin who helped me pick it.)

D'oh!

When Homer Simpson broke his jaw and lost the ability to talk, he started paying attention to his family and realized that Bart actually had feelings. Apparently, this is really tough. You need to break your jaw first before you can sincerely listen to another.

salut mes amis! c'est un cadeau pour ma soeur! i thought i looked really cool with the aviator shades and the ear flaps. i lack precision and a cool, calculative mind though...otherwise the hat would have been purrfect.

If on a winter’s night – I am walking home, my legs tired and heavy, my head sunk low; I hear footsteps behind me, sinking into the ground, moving as slowly as I am moving. I turn and look straight into your face, the moonbeams lighting it up gradually. You are clothed in a harsh black coat, military boots, and a thick fur cap imperfectly tuned to the body. “I recognize you! A friend from the past!” Yes, I know you too - a friend from the past, someone forgotten, but never completely kept out of sight. We laugh because it is terribly strange and absurd that we should meet again, a thousand miles from where we started, half the universe passed, and our age doubled. We meet again on a lonely winter night, where the leaves have fallen and there is no sign of hope except when we are buried under the covers. “I have been waiting for you,” you say, “I have been following the shadows of memory and here I found you.” Our palms meet in symmetry. We are back to being ten and free, nervous and excitable. The ice beneath the feet melts, and if on a winter’s night a traveler should pass us by, he would nod his head and borrow this knowledge for his next tale.

We sigh, we dream, but only because as the clock strikes one, the air is still and the excesses of a book about love affects.

(italics from Italo Calvino, if on a winter's night a traveler)