Now that's what I call an opening ceremony! I'm loving the Olympics so far. It only comes around once every four years and its great fun cheering people on.

Sadly, quite a number of the greats have retired. Popov, Nemov, Khorkina, Thorpey...all gone off to pasture. It ain't quite the same without them. Sure, you have Phelps dominating the pool now but what I would give to see him, Popov, Hoogie, Thorpe all competing in the same race again.

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After watching a play on Saturday, the conversation turned to the topic of being famous. Would I want or mind being famous one day?

I actually don't think I would mind it at all, but I think I would rather be famous in some sort of sports instead of the corporate world. Maybe its the guts and glory. Maybe its the adrenaline rush as you close in on victory after years of torturous training. Maybe it's cause it's being so much more alive than in a 9 to 5.

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It's quarterly sick time once again. I never fail to get sick every quarter and this is no exception. This time though, I've got a buffet of ailments - high blood pressure, migraine, stress, stiff neck and sleep deficit.

Figured something was wrong when my headache refused to go away after 3 days. It's not a sharp pain but a dull, throbbing one. But what is soooo annoying is that it refuses to go away and after so many days, I just want to crack my skull open and yell at the morons inside to shut the hell up.

So I finally got an MC and got sent home. Only thing is, I look and sound perfectly healthy...so my office is probably going to think I'm skiving off work to watch the Olympics -____-"

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life.


I love airports. There's just something about them that fascinates me to no end. Maybe it's the emotions of it all. You get to see the great big bear hugs when people reunite and then in the corner of your eye, you also spy the girl fighting back the tears as she sends a loved one off. It's so interesting just watching the people there and wondering who they are and what's their story.

Hence the reason why I briefly toyed with the idea of working in a airport/aviation industry. Maybe even as a stewardess. But I sobered up quickly enough. I have many virtues, but patience in handling idiotic passengers is NOT one of them.

So now for the next best thing: earn enough to afford to travel and jetset across the globe. Yes, that would severely deplete my reserves but I don't think I want to wake up one day and realise whilst brushing my teeth with my electric toothbrush that I forgot to live.

I would (hopefully) be able to afford the nicer things in life then but thats for that phase in life. I want to see the world now, through the fresh eyes of a young adult. I'll save the Reliance bus tours for when I'm all settled and living in a house with white picket fences, 2.5 children, a dog and a Honda.

It's June already so I reckon its time to take stock of things. I think I'm in a good place right now. Both mentally and professionally. Although that said, these things can only be viewed with certainty only in retrospect.

Anyways, I'm happy where I am now. I like my job. Recently its gotten incredibly hectic but I would take that ANYDAY than to be stuck in a mundane 9-5ver. A-N-Y-D-A-Y. At the very least it is fast paced and interesting and after my 23.5 years on earth, I've figured that I need to be kept on my toes or risk brain rot and demotivation.

But where do I go from here? Do I have the balls to live abroad?

If you ain't got no money, take your broke ass home.

In light of rising prices, I have adopted cost-saving measures in my everyday life. These include checking my tyre pressure ever so often. Actually, I very rarely do my own tyres. I'm all for feminism and all that jazz but ultimately when it comes to checking my engine and tyres, I'm more than happy to smile and "open eyes big big" at the stesen minyak abang to lend a helping hand.

The other measure I have/will adopt is to order wines by the bottle instead of by the glass. Hah!

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Geekfest '08

OMFG tell me that that wasn't the toughest mothereffing paper I'd ever seen in my life. Each little vignette must've been thought up by Satan himself. Everytime I faced another tough question (which was pretty bloody often), a few million of my brain cells committed suicide out of sheer misery. Yarghhhh.

Seeing as we have to register 30 minutes before the exam, there's nothing much better to do than to people watch. Here's the typical profile of your average charter candidate segmented by level.

Level 1 - Young, trendy, generally good looking yuppie executive types.
Level 2 - Young-ish, panda-eyed executive types with tortured and slightly demented looks in their eyes.
Level 3 - Old, definitely not trendy, balding, pot-bellied managerial types with no more life left in their eyes.

Is this what it takes to earn this blasted charter? My youth, the sparkle in my eyes and the hair on my head?! Of course not all charterholders are like that la but what I did see wasn't particularly encouraging.

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Pop Quiz: Who can demonstrate the Dickey Fuller test?

Now, I'm not the most pure of mind but whaddya mean there's a statistical method called the Dickey Fuller test to test for the presence of a unit root? Can't you just use your hand?!

I kid, I kid.

Of course, given the rather unfortunate name, we cracked a good number of Dickey Fuller test related jokes, many of which just wouldn't translate into writing. But oh man, imagine the possibilities and usefulness of a two-tailed Dickey Fuller test.

Omfg, a quick google search just told me that there's an enhanced version called the Augmented Dickey Fuller test. This is just boggling me mind.

I question my motivations behind signing up for this charter. Why do I want it? Do I even really need it? Why create additional stress in my life?

Yes, 7 days before the exam is the perfect time to lose motivation. Applaud me.

But really, I do find the material very interesting. And in that sense, that's when I knew I am in the right line of work. It's just that I subscribe to the Torture Thyself method of studying and while it has always worked like a charm in the past, I'm just losing the heart to inflict more pain on myself.

This could be temporary (in which case it probably means it's pms) or it could be a permanent structural shift and I had better damn well figure out how to nurture the dying flames back to life.

Mamma Mia
Asked my mom out to a movie the other night. Got told that the notice was too short and to

"Make appointment with me first next time"

Wtf?! It appears I now need to book my own mother if I want to see her. Also, a few days before that I handed her a sum of money to settle my car insurance. She called me later on to inform me that she was going to keep the change.

Dammit!


Stayin' Alive
The planets are aligning and coming together to collectively shoot me in the ass. The office is now a political game of chess. Work pipeline just got clogged with massive amounts of debris. My back just decided to sprain itself. The exam is in 20 days. And I've got the flu.

Time to crank it up a gear, dig deep and make like a kamikaze pilot. It's all or nothing, baby.


Around the World
So Rach and I plan to hit the tennis grandslams over the next two yrs. Next January we're supposed to go to Melbourne for the Aussie Open. Then its either London/Paris for Roland Garros or Wimbledon. In between all this I also plan to go to Hong Kong and Bali. Only thing outstanding is how the hell I am going to fund this short of selling my soul/body.


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And now randomly, here are some of the songs that form the soundtrack to my life:

1. 1979 - Smashing Pumpkins
2. Silent Sigh - Badly Drawn Boy
3. Special - Garbage
4. One Headlight - The Wallflowers
5. Don't Look Back in Anger - Oasis
6. The entire Parachute's album by Coldplay
7. Dreams - The Cranberries
8. Take a Bow - Madonna
9. Beautiful Ones - Suede
10. It Ain't Over Till its Over - Lenny Kravitz

The long labour day weekend was bliss. It was like uni all over again. We spontaneously decided to go for a midnight drive up genting for hot chocolate. However the night ended on a more exciting note as we went on a mad race down the hill chasing a lamborghini gallardo, the new civic R, and a brera coupe. I'd say we held our own pretty admirably ;)

Damn I want a sports car.

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Friday was boardgame mania at Mage cafe. Halli Galli and Taboo are just so goddamn fun. Watch out for the drinks though...I ordered a peach yoghurt smoothie, and got a sour cream and onion smoothie. Nice.

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How are my studies going?

That long weekend I did about 20 pages worth of studying. And the ensuing guilt factor overload has resulted in me going banzai and blitzing my textbooks. As a result...I am almost back on schedule. Go me!

Only 30 odd days to go. 30 days that will determine my passing or failing. 30 days to work my ass off so that I can claim my fees and bomb it all on some intensive HK/SG shopping.

Bring it on.