retail...

I've always said I'd never do retail. And I probably won't. This is why:

stuck...

Since Lou was doing his own series of dinner pics, I thought I'd do mine too.


Looks good, no? Well, I'll say this: it tasted like crap. I'm so NOT gonna do steaks with discount beef anymore. Or buy discount beef for that matter. Ergh...

d'oh...

I don't know whether to laugh, or to slam my head against the wall.

After 3 months, I finally discovered that the TV in my room has a remote.

blatant stupidity...

So I'm basically done for today. Nothing left to do but lazing around and random shit. Only problem, I think, is that I'm locked out. Like, of my room. And now, it looks like, out of the house.

First time this has happened to me in like 19 years. I NEVER leave without my keys, unless someone stole them. And today, just as I was closing the locked door, with my brain screaming YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR FUCKING KEYS WITH YOU, I slammed it shut. Particularly hard at that. Ergh. Talk about daft.

So basically, I'm a-stranded here doing nothing, in the Hargrave-Andrew (the library with the freaky artwork), tapping pointlessly on this less than competent computer, while I could be on my way home to doing other pointless things (READ: slacking). Sigh.

Okay. Pointless post. But that's what you get when you lead a rather pointless life.

Meh.

youth...

You know how the General Theory of Relativity states that the faster you go, the slower time moves? Anyway, I really gotta stop taking the train, cuz it's causing all sorts of mental time warps. Like, take this time for instance.

It's like Anzac Day or something, where they make all sorts of peculiar cookies and what-have-yous to celebrate some ageing and senile group of ex-combatants who I don't think really did a whole very much besides invade some country named after some large poultry or some other but I digress.

While in the train, a bunch of old people came in this time, with a better dress sense than the previous group, but still somewhat colourblind. I give them that age dims vision or some other. Anyway, this young-ish looking woman came onto the train and whatnot, and soon, this woman and an old man from the group were bantering, which in itself was an amusing spectacle. Now this old codger was wearing all sorts of medals and stuff and about 5 feet tall, and was obviously being watched over by this tall-ish (in comparison) and pudgy looking dude.

Since I don't basically recall the order of the conversation I'll just go over the gist of it.

Old Codger: So, whereabout's ya from?

Youngish Lady: I from Thailand.

OC: Darlin', I don't care where you from, Thailand, Vietnam, you is be-e-utiful. You married?

YL: Yes, I is married.

OC: Ah. What-a waste. Do ya have any kids?

YL: Yes. I has a few kids.

At this point, this other pudgy white woman adds into the conversation, although it must be said that she was more or less participant, repeating the softly spoken Thai lady's words for the deaf old codger.

Pudgy Woman: Hey, darlin', how old are you?

YL: Me? I am 43 year old.

Oh my. This lady didn't look a day over 25.

PW: Wow. You have gotta be kiddin' me! Next time, when a man asks how old you are, ya can just say that ya 21, cuz you definitely look like it. Like, look at me, I'm 46 and I'm dyeing my hair. I bet sure as hell you don't dye YOUR hair.

At this, the pudgy lady sits next to the Thai lady and they start examining each others' hair, kinda like monkeys grooming.

OC: Hey, I'm 90 years old and I tell ya, I've tried so many things and still I look like some broken down truck. Howd'ja do it?

YL: *blush* Oh, that's because I excercise.

OC: Oh, I sure show you some other excercise.

Gah. Now I feel really, well, infantile. Here's this 90 year old coot flirting with this married 43 year old lady who looks 25, all the while bouncing up and down in the train like some trained bonobo (he was REALLY short, I tell you). I couldn't help smiling at the ceiling when what appeared to be the pudgy woman's husband/boymanfriend began smooching her.

Sigh. Now I feel so, young. Like I haven't experienced much of anything like this. Sure, some people accuse me of being a flirt, but it's not as if I go out of my way to talk that way. It's how I speak! And the LAST time I was kissed by anyone, if I recall (that part of me still kinda remains old), was about a year ago. Sigh.

I don't know. I'm dizzy, and all pumped from that very brisk walk up the hill. Haha. I can still walk briskly.

Ergh. In other news, read this.

tough luck...

Just goes to show, no matter how hard you try, there are some things you just can't change.

maturity...

So I was on the train home, when this group of very LOUD Year 12s (judging from their lack of social decorum and colour coordination), walked in. My first thought was, "oh my, how unrefined." My second thought went more along the lines of, "God, I'm getting fucking old!" Or am now less stupid. But let's stick with old.

The colourblind kids were going on and on about how no sign says they can't screech like nails on a chalkboard or how they couldn't be jumping around like headless chickens. And I was thinking, if I had the level of intelligence of a rock, and a stupid one at that, given my current social views, I'd be saying and doing the exact same thing. And then I noticed that I'd done the exact same thing a year or two back. Gasp! I'm old!

Another sign of aged-ness is how I'm actually able to give out sound and socially acceptable relationship advice both to straight and gay people. Previously, all my opinions were based entirely on logical deductions of the situation and rarely on any sort of prior experience. Let it be said now, though, that any sort of experience I've had is still pretty limited, although from that pool, a whole mine full of random crap has allowed me to give people life-changing opinions and stuff.

I suppose the ultimate sign of old age is when you actually start scrimping like you're ona fixed income. Like, I ACTUALLY stop and look at prices these days. And caloric content and ingredients and stuff. And fabric types and washing instructions. And, God forbid, expected product lifespans.

Sigh. This clinches it. I'm old. And I haven't even done much. Like, none of that fantastic binge boozing I've heard so much about, or all that head banging at those pointlessly loud and noisy clubs, or random sex with random people (or any sex for that matter), or much in the way of normal two-person relationships. Sigh. Old old old old old.

Coupled with my worsening attention span and memory, this only leads to further proofs. And I actually enjoy furniture shopping and arranging, recipe books, and colour coordinated outfits. Old, or maybe just gay. Hmm.

daily jin-sentials...

Since I really have nothing better to post, I thought maybe random people would like to know what I bring with me everyday (randomly), and also because since I have such a short attention span, I thougt I should note it down, since I'm inadvertantly forgetting to bring certain things around with me these days.


The core produce, from top left corner clockwise; my wallet, my Adidas shades which I got at half price, a blue Nokia 3100 (my first and to date, only, phone) a 512MB thumbdrive with a slightly corroded exterior from exposure to perspiration, a miniature Pilot G2 gel pen, my keys, and a varying amount of change (by varying I mean anywhere from 15 cents to 12 bucks in coins)to be mixed and matched with:


Accesories also depends on what I'm wearing. Like, if I'm wearing earth tones, usually the beads alone, or sometimes I'll throw in one of the teeth. If it's black, it's usually the dogtag, which incidentally reads: QUICKSILVERLINING (my name is so friggin common it's probably easier to identify my corpse through my usernames). If the dogtag goes on, so does that little white rubber band. I still think they're pretty ridiculous things, those bands, but ever since my 'friend' conned me into buying one for some "Make Poverty History" blahniks, I feel compelled to get my 2 dollars' worth. Anyway, if it's proper collared shirt, I usually wear the one of the teeth. I like to think it makes a statement: I may look civilized now, but piss me off and I'll be adding yours to my collection. Incidentally again, those are a real shark's tooth and a real wolf tooth.


Inside the mysterious wallet of Jin, from the top left corner in a clockwise direction, we have a Victorian public transport concession card overlaying two half used 10x 2 hourly tickets, an international student card, and the Monash student ID, membership cards for Monash Ultimate, MUMSU, and Chong Hua clubs, the black wallet Wen gave me for Valentine's, my Malaysian P licence, Malaysian ID, Maybank ATM card, Commonwealth Bank Debit card, accounts log, and AU$95.00 in cash.

Wahey!

Also, what is with all these annonymous gay bloggers trying to find out what each other look like? I must admit, it IS quite fascinating to consider, like, who V is (yes, we all know he's Hugo Weaving but that's besides the point). I wonder what Jay looks like. Hmm, short attention span strikes again.

What we talkin' about?

clayton sunsets...

Because sometimes we have to stop and look around.

in the kitchen with jin...

Ignore the previous cryptic post. It's a coded message to my future self when I'm feeling emo. Anyways...

Today, Jin will demonstrate how to make a kickass black pepper sauce that will either have you screaming as your throat spontaneously combusts and your eyes leaking like a Dutch dam, or have you cum in your pants AND your eyes leaking like a Dutch dam.

First, get about 3 big onions chopped into nice little cubic-like pieces. If possible, try to make them somewhat uniform sized, unlike mine.

Also, get black pepper (the unground type), and crush them coarsely. Too fine and it loses some flavour, for some reason.

Toss butter into a pot to melt. You COULD use margarine, but did you know that margarine is only ONE carbon link away from becoming a plasticky plastic? Well, actually, by definition, it already IS a plastic. Also, it's black before it's dyed yellow and that if you left it out for a year, it would not have deteriorated in the least, because not even bugs will eat it. Anyway, do this:

Then, saute the chopped onions in the butter. You want to do this until the onions become transparent. Very cool, but keep in mind that you can't stop stirring if not the butter will caramelize with the onions and form some wickedly sticky black morass at the bottom of your pot and smell like that last batch of cookies you tried to bake.

Sprinkle a bit of flour over the yellowish mixture and stir in well. Then, throw in chicken stock powder, oyster sauce, Worcestershire sauce, white and black pepper powders, salt, sugar and water. It should look like something the cat regurgitated at this point:

Let it boil (it will still look a bit dodgy). Try to keep the fire low unless you like carbonized sludge that you scrape off the bottom of pots. From this point onwards, you should periodically taste the sauce to make sure it will be the cumfest it should be. Add more oyster sauce/Worcestershire sauce/pepper to adjust for individual preferences.

When sufficiently thick, allow to cool for a bit if you're bottling. Otherwise, just pour over anything and everything edible for an orgasmically good time.

For the whole recipe with technical measurements, email me.

nightingale...

And it sings ever so sweetly to someone who knows that the world out there doesn't really care if you're alone.

You wonder sometimes if they're really friends, or if they're only there for the things you do. There's no need to go into details, you know their eyes light up when you mention certain things will be going on, they immediately agree, even to go out of their way, just to see you. Or rather, see you do that thing you do. That thing you do well enough that they find it worthwhile to 'befriend' you over.

You should be glad this isn't a public shower. Your constant bending over to pick up someone else's soap will result in a surefire sore bottom. But admit it, you love it. You love the attention all of this brings you. You love the compliments showered upon that otherwise insignificant skill, that otherwise negligible blip on their radar.

You see their gleeful smiles. And inwardly, you smile too, because you know in the very least, you caused it. They wave goodbye as they leave, you standing behind, waving back, like the ignorant idiot you are. Then it hits you. You're alone again. Naturally.

Except, maybe the nightingale. That sweet song reminding you that nobody loves anybody for themselves alone. Just like you would find the little black bird a toxic dung dropper, but for the song. And sometimes, it helps to know that no matter how fucked up you realise you are, there's always an animal even more raped than you.

cash money...

There can never be enough. Even when you have too much, you could still have more. That's why we all have to start somewhere.

I can't believe I sat around clicking random buttons and filling in monotonous sheets of paper for money. Still, that was probably one of the best paying 2 hours of my life, bar that time I ALMOST earned a thousand bucks taking pictures. Of course, I could never ask money from a charity case, could I?

Thirty bucks isn't that well paying for enduring some mind-numbing shit in some random economics experiment. Still, I could have wasted it doing something like curing cancer or proving that the answer to biggest question in the universe is NOT 42 but actually chocolate cream pie.

Nike. Just duit.

Actually, considering every other day of my life, today was rather productive. I discovered the roots of the equation y = (x - 1)(x + 1)cot x (HINT: the answer is NOT 42). And how to make the friggin computer do it for me. I discovered that I'm still too fat and stupid for my own good, and stubborn and stupid enough not to give a flying fuck. I also woke up late for my first lecture but that didn't matter since I wouldn't have understood him anyway.

That aside, I'm waiting for Easter Break to come so I can procrastinate more. I hereby open membership to the Procrastinati to the public. This is a secret society that couldn't be bothered to keep itself secret today (because there's always tomorrow), dedicated to putting off to next week what it can put off till tomorrow, well, because it can, which I happen to lead because I came up with it.

Other parties might consider contesting for ownership of that term, except that if they really did own it, they would put off the lawsuit to next year because they couldn't be bothered. Hah. Any takers?

Tell me tomorrow.

an expensive weekend...

Little did I know, this weekend would prove slightly costly to me, albeit rather interesting, if mushy. Ah.

Got to Melbourne Central, met Kim there, and we were soon joined by Kian. Walked around. Came across these:

Have you ever seen such blatant adorableness? Of course, our amusement at the expense of their lives. I'm such a sadist.

I know there's some stereotype against Asians being able to pronounce words properly, but I take this as being a bit too customer friendly. Like, what the hell is a tampoon supposed to be?

The building designs in this city intrigue me. Like this underground library:


Or the RMIT building for that matter:


It's a good thing I didn't take up architecture here. Okay, well, fine, at least Queen Victoria Market isn't that absurd looking:


What's a party without the people eh? Mich, Kyle, Kim, Vonzie and Kian.


We were supposed to go to a place called Grandma Kimchi, but our dear friend Kian didn't call in advance to book. Good thing Kyle knew people who knew people. So we went to this Korean Seoul Restaurant, off Little Bourke.


Kimchi galore! Funny thing is I don't like preserved vegetation.


Food was quite acceptable, except for the stupid things they included in my fried rice; mushrooms (lots of it, for the life of me I can't tell why) and oysters (like, why!?!??!). I suppose it's fine if you're into that sort of thing. Mich, Kian and Vonzie didn't seem to mind their portions, so no complaint there. Kim and Kyle had, some beef thing and chicken thing. Beef was a very strange sweet type, very nice, chicken was supposed to be something insanely spicy, or something. Not too sure, didn't seem very pedas to me. All in all, acceptable, except for the fungi and shellfish. Eww.

As is given to occasions where random people gather, randomness ensues!


And it lingers a bit after dinner too.


Went to Brunetti's for chocolatey-ness:


Mini Baci and some slab of chocolate. Pretty, no? Still, was a bit disappointed. I could have done better. I only need the recipe for the Baci skin. Then watch me own Brunetti's! Moo har har har har!

Then back to Vonzie's place for a nice sit and chat. And camwhoring of sorts.


Kim and Kyle. Hah! And you said he didn't like to take photos!


Vonzie and Ant. Vonzie, does he always look so sleepy? Or is it because you tire him out? Lolz.


After that tiring day of total randomness, we left Vonzie's, then let Kim walk Kyle back (and later find out that he drove HER back anyway), Kian and I walked Mich back, then I bunked over at Kian's apartment. I tell you, view from up there is spectacular.

Woke up early, dropped by Kim's to pass her the camera she conveniently forgot to take back from me, then off to Jay Jay's to get my warm winter wear. Got this biker-looking faux leather piece, and some off-black windbreaker. All for the okay-okay price of 138. Impulse shopping at it's finest.

Seems like they were quite serious about reducing accident rates. They got Storm Troopers for traffic police!


Lunch was at Le Shanghai, recommended by Vonzie, along Swanston, closer to the Uni side. Absolutely adore the decor:


Food wasn't half bad.

They came in this little pot things, reminded me a lot of the aroma-therapy thingies that Mom has. Keeps the food nice and warm. Comes with rice sprinkled with toasted black sesame seeds for aroma, some chicken soup thing, and fruit bits. It was filling enough, yet doesn't stuff. Only real complaint was the parseley. Like, gross. Still, give it a try, price range within reach of students, if just a slight stretch.

Concluding: an interesting weekend, met two new people who are promising in the least; a very amusing time, learnt new food locations, and the fact that I should shop impulsively.

And since I painted my nails, thought Liz might like this:

Bwaha!

as it goes...

And the day goes, exactly as it would any other day.

Woke up at a leisurely 9.15. Cold morning, I could just hear the water crytalizing on the glass. Sat at the machine watching a few early morning birthday greetings from after I went to bed. The cold air withstanding, I was feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Whee. I didn't die this year either. Another reason to celebrate!

For lunch, half a Meat Lover's Pizza. Tossed it into the oven and went to change. Had a warm shower, then got back to find the pizza on the verge of combusting. Flicked it out, whew, still edible. Sat in my room with a can of lemonade, one out of 24 that came in a box costing me a nice 8 bucks, staring at the rather random card Pri sent to me.

Got into the stats lecture. Again, I fell asleep, sound in the knowledge that no one else was getting anything out of it either. I tell you, like the classic used-car salesman, this guy just kept digressing into irrelevant topics to draw your attention away from the flawed presentation, in his case, the choice of too garish coloured markers, the amaturish attempts at sketching proper semblences of Greek letters, and that constant jabbering that he somehow mistakes for his speech. Still, nothing he was showing was particularly new to me, though I must say I'm surprised they didn't teach this in Year 12. Meh.

Next up was the dynamics exam, which is like a physics exam, except for applications in engineering. It was smooth sailing, I even thought that I'd leave early. Until I saw the last question. Fuck. There goes a nice 1% from my final average. Just wonderful.

On the way home, I noticed that the wind had gotten somewhere close to subarctic. Lovely. Perfect weather for flying kites. Too bad I didn't have one. No less, got a message from Nikki reminding me of the disc throwing thing that we're supposed to do with Ed.

Flipping it a bit, which wasn't too sucessful given atmospheric conditions, we settled for doing silly things with the disc (silly meaning we didn't do too well). We sat down for overpriced, fat-laden snacks from the sports center cafeteria (how convenient), a random chat of random things, mostly about trying to get me to bake a chocolate cake.

Got back full of extra calories. Housemates were very nice, got a few edible gifts. Dinner was spaghetti out of my leftover collection, since I didn't really have anyone to have dinner with. But since my cooking would rank somewhere between perfect and sublime (bwahahaha!), no complaints.

MSN has been busy sending me messages of congratulations. Wow. Thanks guys. I must say, a false sense of popularity is a very good substitute for sitting alone in my room with nails that feel weird because they're painted while playing ancient pixelated games. Still, I'm quite happy with how today turned out, given what I anticipated LAST year.

Now, my parents have offered me a choice of one of two gifts. A new phone, or that very essential add-on flash for my camera. What do you people think?

last day...

... of my 18th year, and how do I spend it?

Skipping breakfast.

Trying to figure out how the radius of a ring encircling a mass that is at least 0.8m wide can be 1.4mm.

Waiting for a can of soda I left in the freezer to defrost.

Skipping frisbee because it was too windy to be fun.

Throwing together the weirdest tasting fried rice I've ever tasted.

Eating Haw Flakes.

Falling asleep in the computing lecture, along with half the students present.

Realising that nobody else understands a single word the statistics lecturer is saying.

Recalling that a year ago, I wanted to die. Really badly.

Trying to buy a pizza with all the coins in my pocket, then resorting to using the notes I have anyway.

Eating the pizza, watching The Biggest Loser, recalling I used to be in similar circumstances.

Watching mostly because it's funny to see the drama rather than the weight loss.

Not finishing the pizza, so I can eat the rest for lunch tomorrow.

Noticing all the people around me get hitched, and being gleeful, melancholic, and sadistic all at once.

Understanding the emptiness of space by staring at my mostly empty bedroom walls.

Wondering if I should paint my nails tonight.

Getting creeped out by that Korean chick again. I still think she just wants to steal my assignments.

Being alone.

what i'm not...

My mom used to tell me, "don't become what you're not..." Usually, this was said in reference to one of the many less than exemplary activities that I carried out at random, and to be perfectly frank, I was further away from being the perfect kid than platypii were to getting wings.

Today's events sorta made me reflect on that. I realise how impossible that instruction was, let alone impractical. I am full aware of the context in which it was made, but even then, it's not something you can choose.

Assuming, hypothetically, of course, that I will not become what I'm not, nothing would happen to me. I'd be a constant in an equation. In perpetual stasis. The me now is not the me a second ago. Of course, if you factor in allowable changes as part of the equation, there's still the possibility of outside influences, because we're not all isolated systems, annoying as that is. Therefore, this is an impossible situation, because it is undefined at all points.

This thought came about after I noticed that I was lacking a lot of things I thought I had before I came here. True, the scope is quite limited, but when you start making glaring errors like I have in all sorts of things, it's quite normal to come to conclusions like this. Suffice to say, I did things the me I thought I was wouldn't have.

Barring the mathematical approach to that statement, I have to say, well, in some situations, I will not become what I'm not.

I'm not very smart.

I'm not very bright.

I'm not understanding of anyone or anything. Much.

I'm not handsome, not hot, not attractive.

I'm not the many things I want to be.

And, I'm not perfect.

Am I embarassed? Am I sad? Am I depressed? Am I mortally crushed by the thought? How could I be? And how could I not? After all, I will not become what I'm not.

freeze...

Remember that silly game we used to play as kids? Ice and water. Seems like such a good idea, especially in a country where you could steam paus by leaving them on a sidewalk, if there were any intact ones lying around (sidewalks, that is).

Fuck that game. Now the very idea of ice and water is pissing the hell out of me. It's crawling towards winter, and I suppose I quite enjoy the idea of refreshing crisp winter air and whatnot. Only problem is that I can't friggin take a fucking shower. The stupid heater turns itself off at 8, and who the hell showers before then? Ice and water is right. Ice IN the water. Gonna freeze my fucking nipples off.

I tell you, the issue with living here is how they're so hung up with conserving resources for the future generations and lotsa bullcrap along those lines. The best way to do it is live like there's no tomorrow, and just don't friggin reproduce! With less people arond, you'll need less resources, and you have more to spend on yourself! That's the whole idea about the capitalist system. Hedonistic delights!

About hedonistic delights, let's just say one of the requirements I have made prerequisite to getting myself an iPod has been met, at least for now (hopefully it lasts much longer than that, dahling). Ignoring that indescriptive description, I now need to lose enough layering to have visible abdominal muscles, acquire at least 3 distinctions and save up the money to get myself a beautiful 60G black iPod. All within the span of the year. On the upside, the losing of the layering and the saving of the money are not mutually exclusive.

In other news, nothing interesting has happened except that I really seriously absolutely need to go winter shopping. Woohoo!

i'm too sexy...

...for this post.

Today was an absolutely ambigious day, neither good nor bad. I woke at aroud 9-ish this morning. Lazed aroud for awhile, then remembered that there was a lecture at 10. Got there just in time. It feels so good to hand in an assignment, and even better to finally recall what in the nine hells implicit differentiation means.

There's something to be learnt from grocery shopping in a town that's half an hour walk downhill from your house: don't buy 20 kilos worth of water laden and delicate goods, and add on top of that a crate of cheap canned drinks. Especially if you don't have a car. And let me just spend this moment in silent thanks that God gave Man sense enough to come up with somethting called public transport. And concession cards.

Of course, there are only so many Hail Mary's one can utter (not that I'm Catholic) before I burn my spaghetti sauce. Anyhoo, it's mostly still edible, very nice smoked flavour, I must say. And there's something to be said about too much pasta: fuck. And frozen melons. As in fruit melons, not the other kind, you sad pervs.

It's such a relief to finally watch a movie without badly mistranslated gibberish on the screen to obscure pretty-full performance artistes (can't use actors, or actresses for that matter because of some legal dispute over political correctness or somewhat in the guild). Of course, since the movie was mostly about randomly disguised people, there wasn't much to see. Still.

Interesting type of movie, this Inside Man. I can't really define it, but it's like some sort of in-the-middle-of-nowhere intellectual movie type. It's fascinating in it's own sense, without being too complicated. It's an easy watch, but isn't something you'd go for if you want something terribly thrilling, or too intellectual, or even action packed for that matter. It's quite lukewarm for a movie, nothing spectacular, but quite a nice warm type to watch for lack of something better to do. And did I mention the lack of subtitles? Totally cool.

Hmm. If I was a girl, I'd fucking hump myself stupid right now. Which is strange, because I like the way I smell right now. Like a used male shirt, but without the reek of sport-sweat. Just well used. Probably cuz today was a cold day. And since it's friggin raining outside, and the heaters turned themselves off, I guess I have to sleep with my sexy self until tomorrow, which will probably result in a similar scent, due to the fact that tomorrow's gonna be cold too.

Until then, I'll wear that incomprehensible smirk. Because I can.