Before I expire for the night, a few words. 

Work has two general modes: Overdrive and Slackdom.
Today I returned to Slackdom. 

And I frustratingly cannot access Livejournal in a civilised and non-hideous way (although I can, actually, access it via LJgate with some measure of glee.) So I spent half of today sneezing my head and other limbs off (insert timely and malicious SERIES OF SNEEZES, blasted nose knows when I'm typing about it) and the other half doing work non-commitally, in post-sneeze crash-position for recovery and twiddling with Blogger. (GASP)

I've always had the account but haven't ever used it for blogging (in fact, I have avoided Blogger like the Plague ever since I hopping onto the LJ wagon) so VOILA, a bit of effort and I've got a thingy that is almost ready to be my -GOOD LORD I AM BORED AT WORK WHERE I MUST LOOK LIKE I AM WORKING- blog. 

The depths I have sunk to.

Work is work is work. 
Being there for a couple of months will be good. 
I shall perpetually overtime and therefore become...
RICH and so...
My dream of Japan and the Tokyo Dome might well come true.
And my very own sewing machine of Great Power and Might
With which I shall revolutionise the World.

The A Level Results are out tomorrow. 
I think I'm prepared either way. 
If it's great, that's nice.
If it sucks, do it again.
Tedious as hell and agonising but I think there'll be less worrying and more Knowing if I do this for the second time. 
So, a win-win.
So, I'm not worried. Or stressed.
And am actually more excited about watching Watchmen.  

I should ease up on the Milo spammage at work (5 cups 8D hor hor hor)
It really does terrible things. 

Most importantly, I'm glad I took someone's advice today. 
They probably have no idea how vital it was.
Then again, perhaps they do. 

I am amongst the working again. This time at Nessa's place where the pay/hour/location/actual work/lunch break is A Hell Lot Better. Monday is my first day and I hope it will be as mind-numbing as I expect. 

Thinking about all those glorious hours spent plugged in to my Zen makes me many many Happys. 

Also, my legs/feet are killing me. Yesterday's hiking around central singapore with Hariz + boots - dirtyass sneakers of Great Comfort = D8

But is okay. Was good, laid-back fun although sadly did not manage to get to the Phallic  Philatelic Museum for the goofy exhibition. 

Now tireds.
I shall go tend to my udon.  

My slave days are over.
Saturday was my last day at Taka. 
The pay was hardly great and the hours were miserable but I've been fortunate all the same. 
I really will miss the Aunties quite a bit. They were what made the job bearable and even fun despite the psycho customers and the tedium. 
And hey, if it wasn't for this job, Hong Kong would never have happened. 

That same Saturday night I dashed over to Rox's place for a HK reunion. 
Most of the things said and done were insane but that's only to be expected. 
It was good getting together again and, inevitably, gambling a little. 
And for the first time in my life, I slept over at a friend's place. Le Gasp.

Sunday saw me dragging arse out of bed and homeward.
Hariz and Shun Qi came over for some Wii-ing and so we could actually meet for a first time in Donkeys of Days.

It's now Monday and the feeling of blisful liberation is finally setting in.
I can do whatever the Hell I want whenever I want to. 
No worries about studying, commitments, money, work or stress of any kind. 
It's a feeling I haven't had in a long, long time amigos.
And I like it.

After a week and a half of utter depression, I'm feeling less horrible and more normal. Which is a relief but also saddening. People tend to recover so quickly from most things that memory fails them such that both the Brilliant and the Bad  are left behind, fading in forgetfulness.

A high point is that I am still fervently praying and hoping and planning for a Bangkok Trip. Thankfully, due to X Japan's postponement of the Bangkok live, this nutjob plan is possible.

Another high point is that I have quit my underpaying-overworking-insane-ass-hours job. 31st January will be my last day and then Freedom, and probably A Small Fortune, is mine.

Had a pretty good time at Jane Wong's place yesterday already. (Robbing her and Nessa of Two Whole Dollars in Blackjack GASP) I also have a Crazy Ass Time at Rox's place to look forward to and a DSSH outing at long last (although we might well spend it indoors, in a very particular set of doors actually, snicker snort)

Meanwhile I have a teensy slice of  temporary liberation actually thanks to the 2-day CNY break. 8D I haven't had free time like this since I can't remember when. Perhaps I'll finally finish watching The Last Live, read the rest of The Arsonist's Guide to Writer's Homes In New England, catch up on HOUSE, do SOMETHING to my room, eat whatever whenever the hell I want and maybe change my LJ layout. The observant (and honestly even the less so) can predict exactly what my next layout will feature.

I want to go to Jane Wong's house and finally learn Mahjong. 
I would also like to sexually harass Kester while pretending to watch a movie marathon at his place.
I want to Finally have a DSSH meeting.
I want to invade Harizah's place so I can at long last get my stuff back and snitch some of his.
I want to go the SA4 Dim Sum nonsense.

And I can't do almost all the above because I'm working.
And Work comes first because otherwise there will be No Money for Anything and the Hong Kong Trip will be in vain.

It's a bit stupid isn't it. Free from school to have a life and I still don't have one.
Music, how I cling to thee.
And Pomelos, yes, Pomelos make the world a spongy, wonderful place.

Happy Twelfth Night folks.
Christmas is over.  

So Deborah powered on the computer this morning and thought, 'Why, I haven't watched House in ages. Surely there must be some nifty new episode out there.' Then she trotted over to Wikipedia to find that There Is NONE for the FOX people are depriving her of House until next Friday. 

And to top it all off, she not been paid for her slaveying over pulverised produce.

Curses. Lovely start to 2009 there (although technically she ushered in the New Year watching the last of the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. Again. Barbossa just doesn't get enough love you know.)

She will find solace in a large turkey, pie and Cake. 
And polishing her very, very large coconut knife. 

I worked on Christmas day which sounds more miserable than it really is. It doesn't say anything about Christmas Mass in the morning or our lovely tree which is real this year. I fails to mention the presents, the bickering, the fiddling with tree lights (controlled by the Treemote, bad joke I know) and the Feast (which features more curry and chilli than anything else). Much quieter this year also. 

It wasn't quite the same as coming back utterly stoned and yet, glittering in a way that doesn't involve containers of itchy stuff that sticks to the worst places. It doesn't feel like when you're setting up the tree from scratch, knowing that every bauble and ribbon was placed there by you (or thrown actually, towards the weary end) with the pokey leaf marks to show for it.

It's different but it's not bad really. Christmas, whatever it's been marketed or preached as, is a festival for Family, for appreciating who you have now and remembering the ones who are not.

So on the night before Christmas, as my mum waited for the cake in the oven, gorgeous buttery smells filling the kitchen and mingling with the lingering scent of long laboured-over Devil and Feng, with the tender strains of Nat King Cole singing 'Unforgettable', I thought of my late grandfather, of how long ago it seemed even as it felt like yesterday. The memory of him was so tied to the music he had always loved and sang and his passion for cooking (and indeed, nobody's cooking can ever replace his), and so, our family's idea of Christmas.

It was hard that first Christmas and very different. The next was not much easier. These days it isn't so much regret, guilt and should-haves but simply Missing Him. Time wears away at the trivialities so that only the important and the true remain. 

In the first few months after his passing, his sister had dreamed of him once, perfectly content in heaven and enjoying a cool beer as he always did. And you know, I rather think he is even as I type this. Farewells only last a lifetime really, or less and we all live brief lives. Hah, before I know it, I may well be up there having a beer of my own with him and perhaps enjoying a sunset that's perfectly heavenly.  

Grubby and tired and half-walking half-dragging myself home, composing a list of the World's Most Horrible People helps while away some of the time spent travelling. 

It's only Day 4 of work and I've already got a long and rather racist list which is growing like Jack's beanstalk. 
I'll save it for another day. Although despite all the nasty in a day and the rich variety of retards, it will take a few very very large and dertermined arseholes to make me put the Japanese on the Tard-List. Same goes for the Koreans and let's just say the list is thus far heavily populated by many many many types of locals and Other Asians in the Region. There is a distinct absence of arseholic Caucasians. Which says a lot about the different communities or at least the population of fruit fans. Statistics anyone? Cackley cackle. 

I finally served a pretty Japanese boy.
He was very cute. And nice. 
Silly thing which makes such a difference. 
I am overwhelmed by the need to cuddle the Japanese people as a race, which will be challenging even with the low birth rate. 

Dear Lord I want Big Bang shoes. 
The Korean branch of FILA has a smex factor of 9394836455027487 Googleplex right now. Oh yeah. 

And why is it that everyone on LJ on angsting these days. It makes for tiresome reading. 

Oh yes, I have a Wii as of yesterday. Cooking Mama shall now be my daily exercise. 

Have I mentioned that my dream of seeing X Japan play live is pretty damned close to reality. The concert tickets have been booked. At 250 bucks each, witnessing Godliness is obviously not cheap but oh so worth it. As long as they don't try doing Art of Life again. 30 minute tracks are not the easiest to do live and Yoshiki might collapse again. Exciting as that sounds, that'll mean less of a concert and Great Heartache. 

One last thing, I finally got a copy of An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England. VICTORIOUS I AM OVER THE SNEAKY AND CONSPIRING BOOKSTORES AND PUBLISHERS.