Escape

I fell asleep while watching Ocean's Eleven on Channel 5, and woke up to Singapore vs Myanmar. We could have done without the ugly scenes in extra time, but I thought that justice was well-served with the sending-offs, considering how Myanmar got away scot-free with those ridiculous tackles in the first leg; they should have had at least two players sent off then -- especially that stamping of Noh Alam Shah in the second half. I'm hoping (together with the rest of the country, no doubt) that we will meet Malaysia in the finals -- and beat them, of course.

Counted down to the new year in church, then we picked HW up for supper. I'd only wanted an ice-cream, because I'd eaten quite a bit before Watchnight service, but ended up eating almost a whole cheese and egg prata too. Photos non-existent because food was too good.

What was meant to be "supper" stretched into a whole night's worth of listening to old songs (think Gao-Ling-Feng old) and reminiscing of days past. Finally got home at half-past six in the morning, turned on computer, and blogged (which explains why that entry sounds like it was written by a 12-year-old).

It's just started to rain again. And it's cold too. The wailing of cats outside sounds all too human. And all I can think of is, someone out there, trapped beneath the rubble, barely alive -- having waited a week to be rescued, but hearing only the sound of the wind, and not even having the comfort of warmth -- and then I can no longer think straight. It makes me wince. I just want to not think of it -- of him, or her. Which explains this entry.