My Very Own Self

"Sugar and spice and everything nice,
that's what little girls are made of!"
- some wise man

For those of you who care, I would like a voucher from here for my 21st, thank you. Betula, go to Betula. I buy from her. Will be giving her my new address shortly. Or you can get it from me. =)

My other blog will be on Sabbathical for the coming year. Though you never know. I may write a surprise post.

My Dearly Beloved and then Some

Nanyang
Ali
Janice
May aka Vermin
Qing Jia aka Beeboo
Shu
Wei Zhi, Fluffy-puffy-white-little-ballerina-skirt
Xiuhui
Yap, Cuixian (and Adam) aka the Maniams. I would put Adam and Cuixian but Adam's not a Nanyang girl so I can't since this is the Nanyang column and we're very exclusive
Yuling, my Peardrop

S06B
Bird!
Bird!! (The Real One)
Debbie-web
Dipsy
Kai Ling
Rence
Serena!
Xin Xin
Zixuan

RJ and Beyond
Galen
Hui Mun
Sin Yee
Spoon
Vans
Xin Hui

Dawn-ie's brother, Paul
Nick and Nigel
XM's Pam
Ziliang, my cousin

My Tagboard, the Scribble-Scribe


Archives

September 2006 | October 2006 | November 2006 | December 2006 | January 2007 | February 2007 | March 2007 | April 2007 | May 2007 | June 2007 | July 2007 | April 2008 |

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|| Wednesday, April 02, 2008 ||

谈思念

秋风清， 秋月明。
落叶聚还散，寒鸦栖复惊。
相思想见知何日，此时此夜难为情。

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
10:20 PM

|| Saturday, July 21, 2007 ||

Those Deathly Hallows

*sniff*

Those were beautiful deaths though. Honour in death. Always had a thing for military men. Not merceneries though, not counted as real fighting men.

A small bit of it was quite as bad as the Da Vinci Code, but not bad overall, not bad.

To get to the point, today I got a golden balloon. They were giving out balloons in golden and black, but I don't like black as a rule plus to ask for two would seem greedy and appearances are so important, so I asked for a golden balloon.

I named him Snitch. Golden, and flies. Very suitable name. Would have named the black one, had I got him, Ink or Black. If you have a point, state it clearly. Subtlety is very much out of fashion.

As it was, I was careless and didn't tie Snitch properly, so Snitch flew away, and was lost to the trees. Rather prophetic, in retrospect.

Isn't this crytic. Ha ha.

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
10:37 PM

|| Friday, June 29, 2007 ||

Day 296: Au Revoir

So is ending my year in France. Tomorrow I will leave. That will make it 297 days.

I am once again in Paris by the way; after a long trip crossing Bath, Cornwall, Rome, Florence, Bologna, Oxford and London. You can travel the world and see beautiful and great monuments but precious little beats France. I have to say, it was so nice to come back and hear those melodious tones of French being spoken around you. English is monotonous, unless you speak to the Ire-ish; and Italian lacks self-control - too agitated, too agitated; one should always be calm, cool and collected. And the streets are just so nicely wider and more graceful. And the people mesmorisingly more pleasing, and the clothing enchantingly more delightful as the food in one simple word: better.

I do like France.

Well so long dear France!! Till we meet again!

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
2:34 PM

|| Wednesday, May 30, 2007 ||

Day 267: And so, goodbye

I sit, for the last time perhaps, by a lace-curtained window which lets in the night. My habitual position in Chambre 211, rue Edouard Grimaux.

So it's over. Goodbye. I will miss the place. The knowledge that I can and probably will one day come back is little comfort. I mourn not for the future time that will not be spent here; but the past time that has come to rest. I mourn for the year I have left behind. I can never bring away the year I have left behind. The pity that we cannot catch Time.

But at least, I suppose, we have memories. Pale shadows of the past, often blurred and none-too-clear. But at least we can capture a shadow. Time, lost time, how does one take a photo of lost time?

So in a very cunning move to prevent myself from unecessary sorrow, I have decided to leave part of my heart in France - that part of my heart that loves and longs. I hope I will be happier this way. The only disadvantage is that my heart will not be whole until I return, but I will have to manage somehow.

Au revoir, little town, au revoir. Till we meet again.

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
8:19 PM

|| Monday, May 21, 2007 ||

Black Sunday

Today, somewhere around 1130 to 1220, along the Avda de la Constitucion to the first turning the St Maria Cathedral in Sevilla, Spain, I lost Lumpy.

I searched for an hour, nearing two, combing the streets, asking merchants and passer-bys if they had seen my elephant, but I still could not find him.

He was 8 inches tall, hair that was always flat and the pink thread on his left front paw was frayed and a French tricolour ribbon around his neck.

I have no idea how I lost him. My most vivid last memory of Lumpy was dropping him on the floor - did i forget to pick him up when Kai Xuan called; or did I pick him up and did he fall from my bag; to be picked up by some random stranger? If so by whom? A tourist? A child or a Spaniard? Whatever it is, one thing is clear: I have lost him. Heffridge Trumpler Bumpet Heffalump IV who has been my companion these past nine months, I have lost him.

So I have sent for another Lumpy from the United States to be sent to my French address by the fastest possible shipment.

***

To make myself feel better, this will be how the story goes, and unless you want to see my cry, you will play along:

When I dropped Lumpy, I dropped him on the tram tracks and Lumpy, the poor elephant, had a terrible tram accident and had to have a full body transplant. So a new body had to be flown in from the States, because you can find everything there; the operation taking place in France, because I´m fond of Spain; but I´m not leaving Lumpy to Spanish doctors.

New Lumpy is exactly like Old Lumpy: friendly, laughing and adorable. But I believe the transplant also effected a sort of personality change. The New Lumpy is a lot less reserved - Old Lumpy, the precious, was always on the wrong side of shy - and with distinct French characteristics. I suppose it has to do with the French delivery; but anyway it was always a sore point with me that Old Lumpy was born in Singapore; New Lumpy however is authentically and completely French, having been delivered and rebuilt in France and having spent his formative days there. And I do like the French. So all is well.

The New Lumpy has the slightest French accent which he will not get rid of because he knows it makes him endearing; he also like croissants, wine, baguettes, the countryside, the seaside and oysters... and cheese, yes even cheese. He also openly admires the new French President whom he thinks is a wonderful man and secretly wants to be a member of the UMP (the President´s Party, you see). Which is good; every boy should have a passion and I´m glad his is political. The New Lumpy is also outgoing and, I´m sorry to say, very much of a flirt. He, was born cute, knows it and unfortunately unscrupulously uses it. It does not help that he is naturally good with the girls and likes teasing them so. But in the end, New Lumpy is like the old - a good boy at heart; a good boy in soul and a friend for all seasons - though orange autumn afternoons, cold winter nights, fresh spring days and hot summer evenings.

So dear friends if you have loved the Old Lumpy, love the New for he really just the Old. Not completely as before, not entirely unaltered; but at core and at heart, still the Lumpy of Old. Who leaves for exchange and comes back exactly the same anyway. So love the New Lumpy for him; and love the New Lumpy for me.

But still - if one day, you should walk down the Avda de la Constitucion in Sevilla, Spain and hear a little purple elephant trumpeting, a little elephant 8 inches tall, with flat hair, a fray on his front left paw and a French tricolour ribbon around his neck; he is my elephant, my Heffridge Heffalump. Please take him, and keep him, and then, please bring him back to me.

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
8:33 AM

|| Tuesday, May 15, 2007 ||

Sweets.

Droit Pénal today. Finally free. Joy alas tempered by strange sense of loss. So it really is over. It really has been over for quite awhile, but until that last exam, I still could claim to be an exchange student. Now, I am officially on holiday. Exchange is over.

And from this moment forth, one hour passed is one hour less. Ah! Parting is such sweet sorrow! Sorrow I understand, but from whence the sweetness?

On a happier note, I will be off to Barcelona tomorrow. Barcelona, Sevilla and Granada. Sun, food and fun. And hopefully new clothes. They tell me Zara is ridiculously cheap in Spain. Well whatever it is I want my dress. I have decided to get a pretty dress and I will get it. What I like a lot about myself is my persistance: my mind once set cannot be altered, as my heart once fixed will not waver and as my soul once ironed will not be bent.

***


A sweet lies upon my shelf. My French boys gave it to me. It had a fratenal twin which I have eaten. This one though, I strangely cannot bear to.

It is not the nicest of sweets - far from it. I was assured that I had been given the best two flavours - orange and green (whatever flavour green represents). I tried orange, cause I like saving my favourite for the last. Delayed gratification has always been my style. No particular flavour, acidic centre which was too sour... it is the kind of sweet I would never have touched back home. Yet here... to precious to swallow.

This sweet, this silly little green sweet somehow manages to encapsulate an era: lectures in school; french greetings and how I never do make that kissing sound though everyone else does; the sparkling, the smokey and the socialist; photocopying and cards I always lose; tutorials rushed out Monday nights; walking with the winter cold on my cheek; Sundays and the bakery; darkness which falls too early in the evening; praliné croustillant chocolat noir; that bright sun, soft silky bright sun; groceries; a room with a blue bed on one end, and a working desk on the other and a sleek black head at either one end or the other.

Once the sweet is gone... not the ideal sweet, not my favourite sweet, but once it is gone...

Foolish sentiment.

And in the ultimate indulgence of foolish sentiment, I plan to eat that sweet the same day I leave town. So it will be no longer. The sweet was never meant to last forever.

But until then, a sweet will continue lying on my shelf, given to me by my French boys; pristine, unwrapped and full of sweet promise.

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
8:01 AM

|| Tuesday, May 08, 2007 ||

Daily Chronicals

The house 3 doors down caught fire last night. Rather chilling thought that someone else's house was burning while I was soundly asleep in bed. When I woke up in the morning I just heard water-slushing noises, and the street downstairs was wet, so I thought they were washing the street and wow I thought the French were so cool!

Then I left the house for one of my oral exams; people were staring at the house 3 houses down. So it had caught fire. That did explain the debris on the ground, and the smoky smell and tinge in the air. Later as I walked home, and when the crowd was gone, I through the windows of the house 3 doors down; it pained me to see a whole stack of burnt comic books; their edges all browned but centre intact so you could still read the comic. It made me think of my own collection of Chalet books back home. If anything untoward should happen to them... I need to get insurance. Protection for the things I love.

***

Today to celebrate the end of my second-last exam. I got myself a Caramel-and-Pear cake. Went grocery shopping after that then managed to lose it. No dessert tonight. Boo. =(

***

During the Easter holidays I visited Normandy (Mont St Michel) and Bretagne (St Malo, Cancale, Vannes, Quimper, Pointe de Raz, Quiberon) and feasted everyday on crêpes, oysters and butter cake.

Cancale is world-famous for oysters. My mother likes oysters but never gets any in Singapore. I wanted to get her some but obviously couldn't. So I did the next best thing - I bought a dozen and ate them for her. 百行以孝为首, as all good Nanyang girls know.

***

I have decided: like them bashful, slightly brooding, but with nice laugh-y sparkly eyes. Bashfulness is always enticing. Dear Bashful.

***

I would like to buy a new dress, preferably one that becomes me.

***

I would really, really, really have liked to be in Paris yesterday. Place de la Concorde must have been in such a festive mood.

Sin Yee, Yap and Adam are there; but I'm going to wager they wasted a good celebration by not going.

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
5:33 AM

|| Monday, May 07, 2007 ||

Aujourd'hui tout est devenu possible!

Because good things must be shared:

I give you France's 23rd President!! Ha ha!!

I wish I were at the Concorde now!

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
2:02 AM

|| Monday, April 23, 2007 ||

Left and Right

Hee hee. So it's down to the classic Left-Right battle. A Sarko-Sego fight. That's good. I like things classic.

Anyway, I think my candidate is a genius. The man has just called for a debate of ideas between him and Royal. Rather inspired move I think, whether deliberate or not.

For one in the last few days of the campaign all the candidates started attacking him for being autoritarian and harsh etc, slamming him and not so much his ideas. And, compared to Royal, he is harsh - there's no denying that. This should nicely shift the focus away. If Royal continues with her negative campaigning, she stands to look churlish and defensive. If she doesn't, she has to debate with him on ideas. Which brings me to my second point...

Royal really isn't that good a speaker, and honestly, I think some of her ideas aren't that sound, and her track record of policies could be better. My candidate is an advocate for crying out loud!! He argues for a living. And have you seen him speak? He's excellent! He can speak off-the-cuff, Vivian Balakrishnan style. It seems almost unfair to engage her in a debate of ideas.

And the best thing is that this is all so legitimate.

Still, you never know know what the future will bring. (though I certainly know what I hope it will bring: Harry Potter Book 7. Heh.)

Anyway the morals of this story are
1. debating skills are good to have and I am very sorry they are lacking in me
2. in negotiations, always be the first to speak. You get to set the agenda; if the other party refuses he looks churlish.

Oh and enunciation is important. Not liked to the above part of the post but to the clip below:


I finally understand the lyrics!! Jay Chou really needs to enunciate better. Though note I think Fei Yu Qing made a few slips in pronunciation.

Oh and my Spanish neighbour's singing in the kitchen. He sings as well as I do and currently sounds a bit like a banshee and I'm struggling not to burst out laughing.

I really should be mugging.

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
2:55 AM

|| Saturday, April 21, 2007 ||

Red Roses and Blue Skies

Today I went to a Presidential rally. French elections coming up. Most excited. Cannot but muse on irony that I am more stirred up about a Presidential election that does not concern me than one of our own, but recall that our last Presidential election was anyway a walkover, so do not feel guilty.

If you were wondering, it was a Socialist rally, for the Socialist candidate Ségolène Royal. Not the most inspiring speech I've ever heard, nor the most eloquent speaker, but in her defence she has wonderful hair.

Took many photos, but political inclination forbids me from posting them, so I refer you all to Shumin's blog.

And this one here, is my candidate:

[Together, everything is possible]

France needs change. France needs a leader with the strength of character, will and abrasiveness to achieve it, not a nice motherly figure who coos on about things being juste. Mothers are nice, but mothers belong at home. Justice is fine and dandy, but you cannot run a country on fairness alone. Justice can only supplement and does not a system make.

And, to show I'm not misogynist, may I declare my love for Margaret Thatcher.

Roses fade while blue skies are forever.

Though she really does have wonderful hair.

Amitiés, Lumpy et Zihua.

Poitiers, France!
7:00 AM