The Devil Wears Prada

I've finally been able to steal away some time for myself, after my seemingly interminable slavery to school, to spend some "quality" time with my sister, selecting this movie in hopes of reconciling the girly, dainty (ugh) side of me with my realistic, care-less pragmatic self.


To be rightfully honest, the plot of this movie isn't the work of some genius in which many years to come disciples will pay sincere homage to. Nothing of it will haunt you, no antagonist will wrench your heart and this protagonist takes no disposition in which one will easily grant sympathy for.





Simply put, it is another proverbial story in which one who is perceived to possess a supreme amount of power reigns with a draconian code of conduct towards her subordinates. Grounded on Lauren Weisberger's best-selling novel, the evil but admirable Miranda was allegedly based on the infamous Vogue editor, Anna Wintour (although from what I hear, Anna Wintour was mentioned as a different character many a time in the book itself.) Although treated in a unnecessarily harsh manner, Andrea Sachs (Anne Hathaway), an inhibited unstylish yet independent-spirited aspiring journalist, temporarily abandons her dreams converting to one of Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep)'s sophisticated minions. Most of the movie pays specific attention to Andrea's encounter with Miranda and in the end she takes an ethical re-consideration to her prior decision and leaves the glitzy glamourous life and a potential hunky man for a level-headed realistic job and back to her previous scruffy-looking unshaven man (Adrian Grenier). As if you couldn't tell from watching the trailer.



Up till now, I've had wrathful words for this movie, but yet it is categorized into one of those things you take guilty indulgence in, apologize for your superficiality and in time commit the same crime like an adulterous whore...





Same thing said for the attractions I (and I suppose many other women) have for sappy sob flicks whose entire plot can be forseeable and even calculated. Movies like 'Sleepless in Seattle' and 'The Notebook'(notorious tear-jerker). This is the same lure 'Sex and the City' has on me, I shamefully admit to.
Women adore 'Sex and the City' and 'The Devil wears Prada' because it strengthens further this embroidery of hedonistic illusions that we have meticulously concocted for ourselves, this mostly unattainable lifestyle. After mindful countless repetitive reinforcements, we've learned to associate

Manhatten --> Sophistication, THE place(survive here, survive anywhere)

High-powered job --> only thing you can have to be taken seriously and admired

Singleness and Availability --> Sexual Prowess, key to sexual empowerment


We've embraced these perceptions, caressed and put them on a pedestal. We all know that we faithfully tune in to these depictions because we live vicariously through characters who embody all of the above attributes. Women who wonder what living in the heart of New York is really like probably imagine it to be what is seen on 'Sex and the City', 'Will and Grace', 'Friends' and one of our first doses to New York City life, 'Seinfeld'.





How can I deny my affection towards these vices?
Point is, I don't. The habitual everyday life we surrender to drones on, is tiresome and at times melancholic excluding sporadic instances of euphoria, adrenaline-boosts, or woe. We critically rely on addictions, each and every one of us succumb to them. Most, society percieves as commonplace and the rest deal with law.
Recently, the Pussycat Dolls where asked what they felt their portrayal in the media represented and when they confidently gave the trite answer of 'women empowerment', I thought it was clearly laughable. Yet, a couple of years back I wrote a sound paper on how strong women of today were still submissive under discriminatory pressure of the media. It does not matter or perhaps makes minute differences. How determined, strong-willed, ambitious or powerful women may be, compact powder, Chanel lipsticks and La Perla lingerie will STILL have a market and continue to make adolescent girls go ga-ga over them.





To put it in one extremity, we can see ourselves as our own superheroes, out there in our world fighting off sexual discrimination and sexual assault, but at dusk, we strip that facet, recuperate, tend to wounds, meditate, cry if we must, book a spa appoinment, pamper ourselves, like the girlish bimbotic women we jeer at in the daytime. We have to embrace womanhood, an evil we have to adapt to, it is what makes us and at the same token, break us. A woman still has a need to feel beautiful once in a very while.
We come home after a long hellish day, to watch such movies.

Something to leave you with.




Source for pictures: Rotten Tomatoes

The 2006 World Cup

~ VIVA ITALIA ~
I am utterly overjoyed for Italy's triumphant win. It's true... it was written in the stars that Italy should win. This World Cup truly was thrilling. To see an unexpected team come into their own, blossom beautifully, and all the heart-broken fans with shattered dreams, who shed bitter tears to see their beloved teams of Brazil and Argentina head back to their respective homes.
It was unforseen.


My heart goes out to all the joyful beaming Italians. I can only imagine the centralized emotions and patriotism that surged through their bodies seeing that winning goal.


Something that I can't let go of: Zidane head-butting Materazzi
WTF was wrong with Zidane?? Sure, Materazzi might have lashed some derogatory remarks, nothing all too surprising in Zidane's well-developed career, but to succumb to physical retort is absolutely intolerable! I was sitting there watching and was flabbergasted at his actions. To see a veteran end his career on such a sour note. How could he be so myopic??
I'm still baffled.


Even the French were bewildered.

MY RUNNING THUCKS...

3 words that sums it up.


Today in Pitt Meadows, thermometer liquids surged quickly to match the sweltering heat that engulfed its surroundings. I peered at it only to see its reading of 32 degrees celsius.


I figured: oh well, it can't be that bad, I see people wandering around in their yards and on the street. Hence, I wildly slathered generous amounts of SPF 45 sunscreen everywhere which was liable to the sun, donned my athletic gear and laced up my shoes.


I thought I would be clever if I left some bottles of water at the doorstep, run up and down the street and stop for some quick hydration whenever I felt parched, but god was I wrong....


After running for what seems like eternity, 16 minutes and 26 seconds, only completing 1.9 miles, I unwillingly surrendered to the sun. It's ardent scorching rays slowly but surely withering it's subordinates. My lungs gave out and my aching hamstring muscles locked, I was defeated. I came through the door, gulping more water, brushing off beads of perspiration, feeling abashed. I've never given up half way through a run. I always complete it. Its a tad bit shameful, seeing that I hail from a tropical country so close to the equator.


It's truly admirable how Kenyans have made a name for themselves in the running arena, winning a great number of races around the world. I wonder, is it in their genetics that set them apart from the world? For many generations most of their population has depended on their feet as their main form of transportation and accordingly ran to quickly arrive at their destinations. Training in the severe heat also gives them a superior advantage of toughing out less intense versions in places such as Arizona.


Only thing I can do is get out there in the heat more often.


Ah well.

9 days

Sincere apologies for my absence in the past 9 days.


Endless midterms, one after another, has seized control of my life. This ceaseless cycle continues to interrupt my otherwise ho hom routine, injecting sporadic shots of adrenaline to my system. Sometimes I wonder: Perhaps worklife alone is not as stressful as the life of a student.


Just today, to combat my natural instincts of hitting the sack, I drank coffee.
Awful idea to drink something and not go to the bathroom before an exam. It left me wrought in nervousness 30 minutes to the end of the exam and madly punching numbers into my calculator. Quite a sight I must say, to see a girl frantically hand in a paper and thump (what she makes of as 'run') her way out of a hushed lecture hall.

Dogxercise

That's Cookie, me bichon frise poooooch. Active boy he is.



So we were all down in Dan's basement, dogs and all, with nothing to do.
We stoop so low just for mere laughs and entertainment. Hear my thick and creepy laugh!



I promise longer posts in the future.

Tank Theory

A cult following exists for t-shirts with cool designs and patterns that has mainly been kept underground.


I used to poke fun at how geeks, emo-kids and rejects from society were so hyped out about them because it was pure inconceivable to me how anyone who was in a stable state of mind could be so willing to part with substantial amounts of money for ownership. T-shirts, other than tawdry ones I wear to sleep, were not staples to my wardrobe. After all, they boast not of fine material nor of figure-flattering cuts. I failed to understand.


Until, I saw these. Armed and New Beginnings. How fickle I can be... in addition, I parted with more cash. It's difficult to explain the unreasonable extent and inconsistency of women. We are crazy like that. *ponders* Grrrooooovy. But I owe it to Jen for showing me these shirts. To give credit where credit is due: THANKS JEN!

Dark Lord

The fascinating thing about Vancouver is that although it is quite the commercial city, it still manages to retain an in depth sense of charm and quaintness that one can only realize through exploring it.


Lately, I've noticed that the city has been focusing much attention on artwork and public displays specifically in the core of downtown. I'll take more pictures of the many displays soon for your enjoyment. I was strolling along the shopping district and chanced upon this. It is actually of a bear and there are many variations representing different themes planted all over the city which I usually don't care much for due to their corniness. But this one, all dressed up, just makes me laugh! Awesome!

Photo Blog - Seattle

The Floating Bridge, transporting us from Bellevue to Seattle Washington. This time, I drove!


Some pit-stop washroom on the way to Tulalip. Dan has to pee often (like some kinda Grandpa *chuckle*), so I was left responsible for his camera. Undoubtedly, I take pictures of the most pointless things, in this case a tree.


The perfect picture of us that I favour the most.


We got to Tulalip and shopped at the Premium Outlet Stores. The Nike store there is fantastic! If I knew Frees were going to be that cheap there I would have waited. After spending 2 hours at the outlet stores, we headed down to Bellevue and shopped (even more, ugh, only to my regret now) at Bellevue Square. Why take uninteresting photos of shopping itself and the items bought? I'm not going to bore you with those.


I have come to a realization that shopping is tiresome. Fatigued, we head down to Seattle and check in at the hotel. Our hotel room and myself on my cell. Once again made the grave mistake of spending too much on myself shopping and too little on accomodation.


So my best buddy calls me and I tell him that I'm in Seattle. Although he is perfectly aware that its a long-distance call, he prods me to tell him all the things I bought and we start talking about the everyday events of our lives. The best thing about friendships. Cheers to my BFF ;o) !



Night-view from our balcony.


At about 7pm, we started to feel the pangs of hunger. So we head down to this exquisite restaurant across the bridge of downtown Seattle. Cuisine: Morrocan! I love eating with my hands!


The next morning, we check out and head down to Experience Music Project.


The ever so popular Frank Gehry designed EMP and although it is not as mesmerizing as the Gugenheim, it most definitely emobodies an appealing charm that beckons your second glance.


Monkey stares in awe.



Another side of EMP.



Interior of EMP. EMP is a musuem that pays homage to modern and contemporary music of the Americas, guiding one chronologically through the history of music. Jimmy Hendrix was a prodigy, he not only had talent for music but portrayed it as well in art. They also showcase donated costumes. Quite surprised that Biggie was quite large.



Multi-faceted



Seashell



Dan and myself. Why I sometimes look like a man, I don't know.



The fuschia is quite blinding after awhile.



The thing about EMP is that you get to learn how to be in a rock band, what it feels like to be a rock star and what it feels like to be in a rock concert. The most awesome thing you can do there is learn to play instruments. Instruments such as bass and electric guitars and drums are connected digitally to computer softwares that teach you how to play. Amazing! I played the bass guitar and learned the bass to 'Wild Things'.



Next stop: Seattle's Public Market.






Array of fresh fruit and vegetables.




Abundant clams.





Delightful fresh-smelling tulips.




A skillful performance of fish throwing/receiving.




Humongous lobsters. *Note- crustaceans are the most sucessful species in the history of evolution, not having to evolve too much from its predecessors, having many adaptations in different categories and one of the most populous in numbers. I know... I'm some kind a geek.



Mmm... Crabcakes




We had some tasty ham and cheddar rolls from the store called Piroushsky(pardon me for the mis-spelling). I still think about them till this day.




Finally, one of the main reasons to go to the Public Market. To visit the pioneering flagship coffee-shop that brought such upscale (although we take it for granted) things as 'cappuccino' to the mass. They made coffee hip.




Coffee addicts from all around the world pay a visit. This Starbucks endearingly smells wonderful, the scent of spices rush to your nostrils. Nothing of the plastic, tacky, homogenous interiors of the ones we have.




This concludes the trip to weekend trip to Seattle, celebrating our anniversary. My nostrils might be flaring but check out how thin and sexy my butt looks in the mirror reflection! Makes my day.






Thanks Dan, for all your incredible pictures, what would this blog be without you. Where would I be without you.

Riveting

Love and Contempt. Its content had seemingly left me hanging on the edge of a perilous cliff with the bare tips of my fingers. I adore (because it was unexpected) and yet despise (because it was against my morals) that the antagonist triumphs in victory. The best part that I will admit to is that the uneasiness and discomforting atmosphere that it produced will undoubtedly be ingrained in me.



"...We are not content with negative obedience, nor even with the most abject submission. When you finally surrender to us, it must be of your own free will. We do not destroy the heretic because he resists us: so long as he resists us we never destroy him. We convert him, we capture his inner mind, we reshape him. We burn all evil and illusion out of him; we bring him over to our side, not in appearance, but genuinely, heart and soul. We make him one of ourselves before we kill him. It is intolerable to us that an erroneous thought should exist anywhere in the world, however secret and powerless it may be. Even in the instant of death we cannot permit any deviation. In the old days the heretic walked to the stake still a heretic, proclaiming his heresy, exulting in it. Even the victim of the Russian purges could carry rebellion locked up in his skull as he walked down the passage waiting for the bullet. But we make the brain perfect before we blow it out. The command of the old despotisms was "Thou shalt not". The command of the totalitarians was "Thou shalt". Our command is "Thou art"."


"What is our motive? Why should we want power?... The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power. Not wealth or luxury or long life or happiness: only power, pure power. What pure power means you will understand presently. We are different from all the oligarchies of the past, in that we know what we are doing. All the others, even those who resembled ourselves, were cowards and hypocrites, The German Nazis and the Russian Communists came very close to us in their methods, but they never had the courage to recognize their own motives. They pretended, perhaps they even believed, that they had seized power unwillingly and for a limited time, and that just round the corner there lay a paradise where human beings would be free and equal. We are not like that. We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. Power is not a means, it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship. The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power. Now do you begin to understand me?"


--- words from O'Brien, character of Nineteen Eighty-Four



With utter surveillance in London after the bombings and the recent divulgence of the U.S. government in collaboration with AT&T, collecting phone call records of millions of Americans, is our world starting to remodel like the one in Nineteen Eighty-Four?

The Great Americas

Oh how I abhore your roaring as I utilize you to rid of my sin. How you bawl in a deeper voice as your task becomes more burdensome. As I stand, peering, I cannot help but be wrecked with guilt with respect to my actions. But I am helpless, incorrigibe to the extent of my excessiveness.


It is a weekly ritual to succumb myself to opening my fridge and ridding it of decomposing, at times putrid food. It is another job to extricate it of the lingering hodgepodge of smells that creep up to surprise when opening it's door. I casually look at the left-over spaghetti that I am mushing with my fingers through the garborator and it is an admittedly gruesome sight. However, the emphasis is not in the article that I am trying to rid off but in the action and the frequency of doing so.


Special attention is brought to my family and myself because we are absolutely criminal to the offence of WASTING.
Perspectives. Change of environment. Expectations. Past growing-up experiences. They are all highly-qualified factors in explaining our behaviour.
It is difficult to account for individuals on the derivation and uses of their resources but it is well known and might I add, accepted that residents of North America are extravagant and thriftless with regards to their resources.


Truly, we North Americans dwell in the land of bounty. Subjected to a society that thrives in capitalism, we revolve around an oligarchy of gargantuan corporations. Due to their colossal size in most markets, they acquire bargaining power, reap efficiencies of scale and in turn supply whatever goods or services at a mass scale. Countless times I stroll in grocery stores so massive that perhaps losing one's sense of direction is not such an inconceivable thought. It is true. Although all fundamental teachings in economics serve to etch the perfectly competitive equilibrium into one's mind, perfectly competitive markets do not exsit. It is merely a utopian ideology, simplifying matters allowing a more direct analytical perpective on problem-solving. However, in any market that permits free entry (one characteristic of perfectly competitive markets), we see numerous companies supplying that one product, given that the price is favourable. Choice is indeed delightful, but so many that befuddles a consumer? There have been times where I have stood in a shampoo aisle for half an hour (but in the sake of any argument, one may say that I have indecisive and hesitant tendencies.)


Surrounded by such vastness of goods, it is evident that a substantial majority will not be purchased...denied the privelege of being utilized. Not too worrisome for goods that do not have a shelf-life but quite perturbing for goods such as produce. Much pity for organic produce (with such a wondeful cause) whittling away on their stands. It is highly questionable as to what they do with food no longer fresh to a consumer's palette, most items no longer permissible to sell because of overdued expiriy dates. To the garbage dumps? I'm afraid so. Perhaps one of these faithful days, stop in your tracks at your grocery store, absorb the fact of how much of what you see will become waste. Astonishing.


Coffee. One of those inelastic goods that my addictive personality adheres to, a legal opiate that I am dependent on. One of my favourite convenient haunts, to much of my guilt, is Starbucks. I am contented to wait in line, giving me time to feast my eyes on the delectable outsourced bakery goods neatly organized in a glass case, and yet another painful decision-making circumstance to whether I should fatten myself up. On one occasion, as I walked out with Dan, expecially satisfied with a cup in my hand, I casually asked where all the unsold expiring bakery goods went and again I recieved another pitiful answer that they most probably got thrown away. To refute it, I questioned furthur: Was it infeasible to give it to the poor (via shelters, soup kitchens and such)?
It linked to another subdivision of topic: unsustainable reliance. Apparently, consistently giving to the poor creates complacency and further contributes to the overbearing burden on the government's budget...


Is our excess so irreconcilable?

Memphis Blues

Expectations of a hick and red-neck restaurant, upon hearing the name 'Memphis Blues', are dashed as I walk in. I am warmly enclasped by its surroundings.


Not too fond of full-bodied-tasting cuts of meats such as steak and ribs, I'm usually a tad bit hesitant to fill my stomach with such. Drawing experiences of lavishly slathered ribs with canorous barbeque, hickory, honey garlic sauces illicit a Pavlov's reaction, except that it is of a verge of regurtitation caused by greasiness.


Prior to Memphis Blues, my knowledge of 'good' ribs was derived from Tony Roma's. Though I did have some meals there, I limited my frequency to its establishments. But upon tasting Memphis' expression of ribs, I was taken aback.
Never have I savoured such ribs that epitomizes such flavour without being masqueraded by a sauce.
Their ethos: Taste the quality and appreciate the process.
That is the beauty of their meats. Not shoddily marinated with a sauce but rubbed with aromatic herbs and seasoning , extracting and enhancing the meats' natural embodiment of flavour. George Siu, its successful owner has 2 locations located on West Broadway and Commercial Drive (I have yet to visit) and has deservedly recieved many distinguished awards, Look here .


The Elvis Platter: Shared by 4
Smoked sausages. Brisket. Pulled pork. Rib ends. Half slab ribs. Half of a cornish game hen. Fries. Coleslaws. Cornbread. Barbeque Sauce. Pit Beans.



Red wall of Jazz and Blues Singers.




Salivating




Evidence of Enjoyment


Legendary Crooners




I was overjoyed that they were so willing to pose for me!



Dazzle
The atmosphere of this eatery is fully warm and casual. Absolutely conjures a southern feel of eating with good ol' blues music playing in the background. I imagine this is what it feels like to be in Memphis or New Orleans... surreal. Come as yourself and feel comfortable because there is no pretense nor pretention about Memphis Blues, it is elementary and efficient. Order at the front, grab your piping hot scrumptious food and seat yourselves wherever you wish. I particulary appreciate the big rolls of environmentally-friendly paper towels strategically placed on every table at anyone's dispense. Quite thoughtful and nothing of those trite pungent, overwhelming fragrance of a wet towelette... Order the 1/2 slab of ribs (depending on your appetite, more than enough for 5"3 midget like me), pulled pork sandwich and the cornish game hen and the brisket (which is Dan's pick). Taste the meat on its own first before dipping in the barbeque sauce. The beans too are delectable (or perhaps I have a quirky attraction to beans in sauce *shrugs*). Be bold and order the Elvis Platter for an opportunity to savour each and every item they offer. Quench it with a beer.




Frazzle
Nothing too much to denounce about. Their pricing is slightly on the high side, but worthy of its quality in my books. It is futile to get seats at peak dinner times such as Fridays and weekends. Go there between 2-4 in the afternoon and most likely have the whole restaurant to yourself and your party. The restaurant boasts not of its size, so if your party consists of 6 and more, it will feel a little tight.



Overall
$ $
8.5/10



Memphis Blues Barbeque House
1465 West Broadway Avenue
Vancouver, B.C.
604-738-6806



Click here for LEGEND and RANKING

Noir et Blanc

I can't even remember when this picture was taken, think I took it. A
little self-obsessive I must agree.




My maniacal self with my better half at some pitstop washroom in Seattle. Expect this expression on most pictures. Please me reminded that I AM retarded.
I don't know what that semi-parabolic shade at the left corner is... perhaps my finger?



Well, now that I have mentioned, I DO have pictures and a blog-worthy topic of our trip to Seattle and I just remembered that I am very tardy on my other topics that I have yet to enlighten you with.


On a happy note, now I have a proper, uber-savvy profile picture I can use (the first picture above) and you guys don't have to set eyes on that pastey, oops-I-ate-another-piece-of-cake face, jutting-out lower lip portrayal of me.


*Thanks to Dan for great pictures

Lucky Number Slevin

Its been years since I've seen a movie in which I was surrounded by an air of confusion, yet happily chased its given clues and hints, like a retriever, to make sense of it.


Slevin (Josh Hartnett), under a mistaken identity embarks on a mysterious labyrinth of 'jobs' that he has to accomplish for 2 warring mob bosses (Morgan Freeman and Sir Ben Kingsley), meanwhile, encountering an intelligent, quick-witted beauty (Lucy Liu), whom of course is the love of his life. I can only say so much without ruining the whole story for you.




I was baffled by what this movie was about initially, thinking it was another Bruce Willis' macho, ego-stroking depiction but walked out of the theatre delightfully overwhelmed. Of course, what I have mentioned in the previous paragraph is a seemingly common plot. However, it is interlaced with other definitive motives , creating finer nuances in the plot itself. How befuddling it might be, the end reveals all, linking loose ends together. I see no haphazard effort in its completion.




Never too fond of Josh Hartnett, but his unassuming demeanor is perfect for his role.


The last movie I've seen which left me feeling this way was Pulp Fiction. Sexy as hell creation of film noir!



Please go see this movie.



Isn't she pretty?



*Sources: Pictures, Rotten Tomatoes

Unevenness

I am at a restless point in my life.


When I was 15 years old, my role was to be a disastrous juvenile. My mother's frenzied attempts to salvage my declining grades resulted in the employment of an extra-curricular tutor. On one occasion during my throws of frustration, he told me something profound: Sucess is a product of two ingredients, structure and perseverance.


Because I am a dreamer (my mother has always reminded me so as a child), I always have the structure set up. Ideals and illusions that are so marvellous that if I were to list them on a piece of paper, I could admire, venerate it, and the next moment crumble it into a useless barren mound when reality penetrates it, sullying its good nature. That is what my ideals and illusions are, uncompromising.


The perseverance part, I am ashamed of.
I have no significant events to commemorate to perseverance. Not an adjective to describe me, lest I further disappoint myself in being a phony.


So what does this little girl do, you ask?


She fills her shelves with many commonplace DIY help books advising her on career and financial paths. She spends her time reading them, seeking some sort of enlightenment to satiate the pangs of inadequacy, but what use can be extracted from a map if one is constrained in a glass box?


*Sigh*


Others seem to know to a certain extent of what their future might turn out to be, and they take steps to chase after it, I look on and envy them whilst I stand in my stagnating platform. Their future slowly diffusing immaculately into what they know as their present, closing the disparity between both extremes.
I am myopic to any advancements in my life.



Oh... the agony and angst of lying still in the abyss.

GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

Threesomes. Gang-bang. Bukakke.
Holy shit. There are so many terms out there now to describe sexual encounters with multiple people!

Sure, seeing vid clips on the internet of them can be fucking... sexy as hell in which most males will certainly agree with me. But then again, sitting infront of the computer screen watching it is one thing and its another if you know someone who leads such a lifestyle.

If you want to know the truth, cheating on someone in my books is analogous to blowing away one's sanctity. Isn't it one of those taboos in a monogomous relationship? Perhaps my touchiness about it is derived from the fact that I have been victim of such a circumstance before. Perhaps that is why in realistic terms I can never picture myself in a threesome or gang-bang. Though I can always imagine how fucking sexy a threesome will be. For some reason, if I dream of a threesome or gang-bang, I'm always the fucking spectator!

So far, I've come across 2 people, different people who aren't acquainted with each other, who have been in a threesome. I'm happy for them, because they both told me they thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and everybody who has sex should always enjoy themselves. Secretly, I find it sort of dirty, unhygenic. I certainly differentiate between fantasy and reality as two utterly distinctive entities. Watching porn of threesomes and gang-bangs, jerking off to it, having sex whilst watching it...harmless. Being in a threesome or gang-bang, playing a role of a porn star... just suggesting to your future partner that you can't be trusted and instilling low self-esteem in them. To be honest, a few things work better when confined within the limits of the mind.... that being almost limitless! *widening eyes*

Yes, I'm a prickish conservatist, traditionalist, right-wing or whatever the hell you want to call me. Fuck you guys, two's enjoyment for me!

A Slight Limp

• My heart is beating in a strained and yet consistent manner. But that doesn't worry me too much. I am concerned about my breathing. I look down at my thighs and notice the jiggle of every step I take, they are turning red.
  

• Hordes of people in white stream down the streets and I cannot help thinking we are but just bison, stampeding towards our goal. I do not like this feeling. I prefer the lonely solitude. It is selfish, but this is my time of meditation and introspection.

• My hopes and expectations soar and plummet in that duration of time. Times of exhilaration and enforced motivation, others of self-deprecation. I turn back, hoping to see Dan trailing behind me but my hopes are futile. I have lost him. In the heat of the moment I feel disappointment in myself : I should have waited for him. After all, today is our anniversary and I promised that we'd stay together. Perhaps I missed and he has overtaken me. This is the point of no return. I run alone now and my target is to surprise myself and yet fluff that ego, by finishing above my alotted time.

• My sides start to ache, although it is against my will, I inadvertently decrease my pace. The aching leg I cautiously noted about before the start seems to remind me of its presense. I do not care. As long as I do not stop. Spectators cheer and although I appreciate the amicable thoughts, their support leaves me indifferent. Under the bridge, I hear 'Wonderall' and no pain can stop me from mouthing the surreal lyrics of the song.
  

• This must be the last incline. Through my sense of navigation, we are close to the Dome where the finish line awaits. I remind myself to lift my legs higher in order to lessen the strain of the incline. I glance at my GPS system, to my chagrin, minutes have ticked away, I have past my personal alotted time. I jog abit more, to my utmost relief, the multi-coloured arch that signifies the end is within sight! How vibrant that arch is! Its a mad dash to the finish line as my arms and legs lift higher in unison allegedly being broken away from chains, my vision blurs with only one object in focus. The theme song from 'Chariots of fire' blares in my head and every step I take is intune with its beat.

• I cross the finish line and click at my GPS system. 1 hour and 3 minutes. I console myself with the fact that this is my first time, toying with the idea that there is room for improvement, of course. I look out towards the crowd that is pulling in. Perhaps I will see him... and I did.

My first amazing experience of the Vancouver Sun Run.
Distance: 10 K
Course difficulty: Slightly abouve average. Did not expect that many inclines.
Participation rate: 50,700 entrants
Weather: The most beautiful weather we could have with cloudless skies
Regrets: Should have managed schedule to fit in more runs for training. Diet is screwed up.

Repeat participation? I'll be doing it for the rest of my life !

A Short Hiatus

Frightful. Nerve-wrecking. Insomnia.


Words to describe myself in this state of mind where I have to face FINALS.


I need all the GODS in the world to help me out in this one....
Sad how I always say the same thing for every semester even though I am 2 semesters short of graduating and I still haven't pulled my socks yet (metaphorically.)


See you guys on the 20th. I'll have some good stuff to talk about.

Hawker's Delight

We arrived at Main Street slightly past the norms of dinner time. The map said that we were aprroximately 500m away from it but being unfamiliar with the surroundings we cautiously parked just so that we wouldn't miss it. Most stores and shops were closed and we wondered: could we be lost? Finally, after what seemed like eternity walking in the chill, we spotted a block of shops that were brightly litted and seemed to be bustling with life. And there it was, Hawker's Delight.


Initially, I was slighty apprehensive at its surroundings. In full honesty, the lighting of the restaurant (or deli as they would like to be referred to) and the lack of interior design, in unison create a somewhat dingy atmosphere. Gaudy posters are pinned up on the walls, portraying typical Malaysian tourist destinations but oddly enough, no posters of Singapore (even though the owners are Singaporean.) Well, knowing what I'm working with, I conclude that are no esthetics to pleasure myself with and head to the counter to order. Right there, I am surprised at its diverse and eye-catching menu. Ranging from Hainanese Chicken Rice to Laksa and Gado Gado, I am lost at what to order because never have I been to a South East Asian eatery that offered so many endearing dishes in which I miss whole-heartedly from Singapore. Eventually, we came to a decision:

Our Spread


Mee Goreng: Indian-style noodles in South East Asia



Mee Rebus: Malay-style egg noodles served in a thick tamarind sauce served with bean sprouts, boiled eggs and minced meat.


Grass Jelly Drink: I remember as a little girl, after school my grandpa would come pick me up and he would buy me a can and it tasted so wonderfully refreshing in the sweltering heat of Singapore.


How mouth-watering

Dazzle
Food is relatively authentic to Singaporean/Malaysian cuisine. You will love the prices, for it won't dent your wallet. Quite a spread of dishes start from $4.25 and you will receive it in a pretty large plate. Leaves you in a state of satisfaction. Order flavourful Mee Goreng and Mee Rebus (as if those pictures don't tempt you already), also Mee Pok (dried noodles) is a good choice. Dine early in the day and get a chance to order a plate of Satay (kabob-ed chicken, beef or pork served with creamy peanut sauce.) I didn't get a chance to order some my first time there, but I came back for it the next time.


Frazzle
Dining in is slightly uncomfortable in their small and dingy space. Don't expect any privacy between yourself and others, all conversations can be heard throughout. Showing up with 3 other friends in tow is abit of a hassle especially at lunch-time where it starts to get packed. Take out is perhaps a better way to go. At peak lunch-time expect food to take a little longer to arrive. Cleanliness is abit of a question mark. Some sit well and others might not. You might put yourself at risk by ordering the Tahu Goreng.


Overall
$
7/10


Hawker's Delight Deli
4127 Main Street
Vancouver
604-709-8188

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