Posted on 12 April 2006 @ 16:29 in Humour
So, I’m on holiday (and posting from the library at the University of East Anglia, my alma mater, in Norwich.) And I couldn’t resist checking on some of my must-read blogs, one of them being Sharon Bakar’s.
The latest post on her blog asks “What Kind of Writer?” Of course, I couldn’t resist. Here’s my result:
You Should Be a Science Fiction Writer
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Your ideas are very strange, and people often wonder what planet you’re from.
And while you may have some problems being “normal,” you’ll have no problems writing sci-fi.
Whether it’s epic films, important novels, or vivid comics…
Your own little universe could leave an important mark on the world!
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Now I know why I’ve not had much success with my writing. Cuz I’ve been writing the wrong genre!!!
Thanks, Sharon, for sorting me out.
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Posted on 10 April 2006 @ 09:12 in Personal
I told myself I must take some pictures of Mortimer to show Wien Yue, my niece. Then I remembered – Wien Yue is no longer with us, she left us on Friday, 31 March 2006. At 5:26 p.m., to be exact.
Tang Wien Yue
22 May 1985 – 31 March 2006 |
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She’d been diagnosed with leukemia in July 2002, had a bone marrow transplant in June 2004, and while her body never totally rejected the donor marrow, it didn’t really settle in her body either. She had a leukemia related condition, something called Guest vs Host Disease (GVHD). In her case, the GVHD affected her lungs.
The GVHD worsened in recent weeks. She was admitted in mid February and never returned home after that.
Her parents and brother were at her side when she died. I was, too, as was her cousin Angela. Except for my brother who was in Vietnam at the time, two cousins in Singapore and another two in the States, all her aunts, other uncle and cousins got to see her before she left. My brother and her two Singapore cousins later returned for the funeral.
Just the evening before, she was so well and sitting up in bed. Her mother asked me when I was leaving for London. I replied and then looked at Wien Yue, saying “You want me to get you some candy, right?” She nodded and her mother said “soft chewy candy.”
When Wien Yue’s condition worsened recently, I told myself I would cancel my trip at a word from my sister. Somehow, I knew she wouldn’t ask that of me, but I knew I wouldn’t enjoy my trip if Wien Yue remained unwell and in the hospital. I waited day by day and knew I would cancel even if hours from the flight. I never had to. She left on the last day of March in the year 2006, and made it possible for me to be here in London right now.
Wien Yue was only 20, about 6 weeks shy of her 21st birthday. Oh my precious darling niece.
(I couldn’t post this earlier because one of her cousins in the States was travelling and the family decided not to tell her until she returned. I know Mei sometimes reads my weblog and I didn’t want her to find out from here instead of from her mother. I’m sorry, Mei.)
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Posted on 10 April 2006 @ 08:47 in Travels
I got into London around 6:30 p.m. on Saturday. It wasn’t a full flight, and I had the whole row to myself.
There was a bit of an “Alzheimers” episode when I got on board the plane. I’d been assigned seat 51K but for some reason walked past that row and sat somewhere else. There I was, fully settled in, when this Mat Salleh couple came up. I looked at them and thought, “Oh no, I have to sit with these people all through the flight?” They looked a little surprised to see me and the girl said to me, “That’s my seat!” I replied, “No, it’s not, this is seat 51 … ” As soon as I said it, I knew I was in the wrong seat and knew it was 57 rather than 51. So I gathered up my things, apologised and walked forward to the right row. Except it wasn’t easy – passengers were still coming on board and walking to the back of the plane; yes, I was walking against the traffic, which seemed to sum up the way I am in real life – always walking against the flow of things, to a different drummer.
After surviving Immigration and getting my bag, I went to where the trains were and got my ticket to where Mel, my friend, lives. One Tube change and a local train later, I was standing at the entrance of the Denmark Hill station, waiting for her. A fancy car drove up, I peered at the driver (it was after 8 p.m. and dark), it was a blonde woman who waved at me and I realised that was Mel!
We haven’t seen each other for 17 years, and now, thanks to Janis Ian, we were meeting up again.
Mel looks good, too. She and her partner live with Mortimer, her 12-year-old Cairn terrier, on the top floor of a block of flats in Denmark Hill. Their place is wi-fi’d and I’ve taken over her laptop to be online like I never left home. *big grin*
Apparently, I brought the rain from Malaysia. It was fine on Sunday morning – we even went into the garden where she clipped Mortimer’s fur and I took some pictures. We later went into the city and were walking around when it started to drizzle. I had no problems with that. We continued walking around. Then it got heavier and we found shelter inside the Liberty store – lots of nice stuff in it, perfume, cosmetics, coffee table books, journals and pens. I left with a maroon leather luggage tag (much needed for my one piece of rolling luggage).
It’s April but still quite cold in London, cold enough for me to still have steam coming out of my mouth. Mel asked why didn’t I bring the hot weather from Malaysia. I told her it has to stay at home cuz our Government doesn’t allow us to export the hot weather.
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Posted on 6 April 2006 @ 22:59 in Janis Ian, Personal
I’m leaving for England this Saturday. It’s 17 years since I was last there, 17 years since I graduated from the University of East Anglia and left for the States. And the main reason why I’m returning after 17 years also has to do with the number “17″ – to see the singer who is perhaps best known for her Grammy winning song “At 17″ .
Janis Ian.
And for what it’s worth, I was 17 when that song was released in 1975 altho I didn’t know about it till 12 years or so later. Which makes me, I’m not ashamed to admit, 48 this year.
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Posted on 4 April 2006 @ 16:03 in Stress Busters
“I’m having a bad fur day.”
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