Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Today is one of the few days ever since the holidays started that I feel truly happy and at peace from the time I woke up. The clouds were drifting and the yellow flowers were glowing from their high branches. I waited dully for the driving theory practice test to begin and did hundreds of questions repetitively, right after which I answered completely similar questions again for the theory trial test and got full marks even though I have no idea what some terms like split traffic mean. The encyclopaedia is filled with columns of tiny words and there's tons on astronomy and cosmology and galaxies and the universe. It's simply fantastic. The thing I'd most want to study is astronomy and cosmology, without a doubt. Today is also the start of my cooking expedition! I started with rosti potatoes today, which is a huge circle of shredded potatoes and bacon and cheese. Mm-mmmm. Tomorrow it might be mexican green rice, which seems far easier than today's lump of cosy side dish. The sizzle of the oil in the pan, the hissing and simmering of the huge circle of potato is enough to tempt anyone into venturing into more cooking. Ah the danger. Anyway the touch of the raw bacon was like tough leather at first, smelt like soap and was enough at that moment to make me think of being a vegetarian. I never knew chopping meat was so easy. I definitely believe in adding lots of herbs to almost everything you cook, just for the hell of it because herbs just make everything so much more tasty and magical. I just found out that the holiday camps I will be working as a camp assistant for is actually 3 separate camps with the following themes: sports crazy (swimming, cycling, tennis etc.), jedi masters, world cup crazy, art attack. Sounds like a bright crazy happy kids camp. Only thing is, they have a theme called Survivor which incorporates survivor, the amazing race and fear factor and it's not in the camp I'm working for!!!!!!!!! Imagine coming up with a tribe name, tribe flag, have immunity challenges and reward challenges. Yummy.
Here's a miniscule pinch of information: in city areas less stars are visible at night due to interference from the buildings and some electronic device radio waves. Stars are much more visible and sprinkled over the night sky in more desert areas like in California and Chile (according to the glorious encyclopaedia). This perhaps sorely limits Singaporeans in stargazing. My uncle taught me to identify the north direction with some of the most visible stars in the Singaporean night sky. Look at the sky tonight, there will probably be four stars that form the points of a rectangle. In sort of the middle of the rectangle are 3 very visible stars in a very straight line pointing northwest. On the right of the straight-line stars, still in the rectangle, will be a very vague but if-you-really-squint-still-sort-of-visible clump of stars, that are in sort of a straight line and pointing somewhere northwest. The direction that this specific clump of stars is pointing to is North, according to my uncle. Isn't that mindblowing.
moled at 2/07/2006 04:48:00 AM
Monday, February 06, 2006
I just made the smashing discovery that our house has an ancient 20-year old nearly-20-thick-dust-books volume of Encyclopaedia Brittanica. It is what people used before the internet. Hallelujah.
moled at 2/06/2006 06:29:00 AM
Sunday, February 05, 2006
He was frightfully happy
Today I felt the tingly feeling a few times, all for different reasons. The most tingly of all was hearing Mr. Tambourine Man, the Rolling Thunder Revue version. Oh I love the tingly feeling. It leaves an aftereffect like cool melted ice cream swooshing in your dizzy head. I miss the Beatles. One of the few things I really like talking about is the beatles. As wa-keen said, I'm so sick of my voice. I'm thinking of finding someone to come over and we'll paint each other's bodies and just try to fill any parts exposed outside clothes with doodles and anything. I don't know what we'll do after that but the most convenient thing is if it's raining and then we can wash it off outside! Somehow I imagine the painting to be a few quiet enchanting hours of intricate painting and then suddenly mad washing off. Letting the painting all be a ecstatic pitiable washout in the crazy sorrowful rain. Is telling my father not to fart at home a sign of badly expressed frustration?
moled at 2/05/2006 04:59:00 AM
