Thank you, D-X

Some people let off steam by singing karaoke, by screaming, by working out a good sweat. When I need to vent my frustration, I organise. If you see my CD's arranged in alphabetical order, clothes according to the colours of the rainbow (black and white after the coloured clothes), books by height (library books by due date), you do not want to come near me.

Some time ago, in need of such an outlet, I also started saving my entries in my old journal over at Diary-X, one by one, in reverse chronological order. Last week, D-X went down, but everyone was hopeful that it'd get back up eventually. Yesterday, Stephen (creator of D-X) announced that the damage to the drive on which all of D-X was hosted was too extensive: everything has been "irrecoverably lost."

The D-X platform was special for many reasons. Notably, it had an active community where people came together just by virtue of being D-X users; you don't see Blogger users doing that. Also, it was single-handedly founded and developed by Stephen, and he often wrote about his thought process: why he wanted to implement this feature, what he wanted to do next, what his restrictions were. He insisted on keeping single-entry pages because he wanted everyone to understand what it means to keep a journal; a journal is not a blog. Part of what made me love D-X so much was also because of Stephen's writing; I think I read through years of his journal in a single night. He promised that he would always keep D-X free, because he knew how much people needed it -- he needed it; he was one of us.

D-X was a dream in terms of confidentiality. D-X journals don't turn up on searches; it allowed you to lock entries; it allowed you to lock your entire journal. D-X made me feel so comfortable that I held nothing back. I poured out my tears, my dreams, my joys, my heartaches, without reservation. And then I blamed people for invading on my privacy. I'm stupid that way.

For reasons that I'm unable to put into words, it's a lot easier to stay impersonal on Blogger. For those same reasons, Blogger would never be able to take the place of D-X.

I'm extremely sad at the demise of D-X. I'm sad for Stephen; he must be absolutely crushed. I'm sad for the journals that were lost. Among them, I have a couple that I still keep tabs on (up until now, at least). D-X also does not generate feeds, and there's something precious and old-school about actually visiting someone's journal to see if it's been updated -- that small measure of anticipation and wonder.

Speaking of old-school, there was Richard, who visited the US from Bradford as an exchange student, and fell in love. His journal documented that journey, and his heartbreaking return to England, where everything was the same, yet everything had changed. Then there's Drea, a teenager whose constant maturity never ceased to amaze me. Drea was never afraid to talk about her insecurities, and in that way, she made me feel like I wasn't alone. She always knew the promises that God had for her, even in the darkest times, and in turn, she made me feel like I had hope too. And of course, there's Stephen, who -- since I joined D-X -- has gotten married, had a kid, and at last count, is expecting another.

Some time ago, I started saving my D-X entries, but I never got to finish it. I got all the way up to April of 2002, which means that about a year and a half worth of entries prior to that is lost. But it was never about the destination anyway; it was always about the journey. D-X was there when I needed it, and that is what matters.

Miscellany

It's not like I'd intended to watch American Idol, but I caught some parts of it, and five of them stood out for me:

1) Taylor Hicks
2) Ace Young
3) Elliott Yamin
4) Mandisa
5) Paris Bennett

In that order. For now. I can't see anyone outside of these five contestants winning the competition.

On an entirely different note, I thought I saw some similarities between: Hugh Jackman and Patrick Hall...



Aaaand, Stitch and Gedeon McKinney!



***

I forgot to mention: I unwittingly joined in the Black Shirt Protest over the fee hike last week. I didn't know it until a reporter asked to interview me, hur hur.

One two three

Three meet-ups in two days; I'm too old for this, or at least, my body thinks it is. I'm nursing a cold and a slight fever now, and I might even be delusional for thinking that it's worth it. Projects? What projects?

***

Sunday evening, I had a last-minute dinner with old friends, some of whom I've known for 16 years now -- that's a looooong time! After dinner, we had a mini shopping spree, because we found a clearance sale that had all their shoes at $10 and under! I managed to find a size 9, so I couldn't resist. :)



It's strange to think that we're in different stages of our lives now, with some of us working, others graduating, yet others thinking of pursuing further education. As we parted, B put her arm around my shoulder and sighed: "We really should do this more often, you know? There's simply nothing like the company of people whom you've known forever."

I couldn't have put it any better.

And that made it all worth the while.

***

Monday afternoon, X came down to school to have lunch with me.

"My gosh, you have no idea how bad today is going to be," I lamented.

"What do you mean?" X asked.

"I have so much work to do, but I have dinner tonight. And I spilled hot tea on myself. Add to that, I forgot to bring AY's birthday present, so I have to sneak back home now to get it, and come back to school in time for her to not suspect anything!"

"You call that 'bad'?!" X glared at me incredulously.

And in that moment, I realised that it really wasn't at all. I've had bad days, and this doesn't come anywhere close. We both laughed at the silliness, and followed up our meal with a banana muffin. It was gooood.

And that made it all worth the while.

***

Monday night, my classmates had an early joint-celebration for AY and me -- our birthdays are a week apart.

The four of us went nuts with the toy vending machines again -- much to the boys' dismay -- and came away with Disney keychains.



Their heads are kinda squarish, but only because they're stackable, into some sort of totem pole!



Anyway, mine was Daisy Duck, and XL had Donald Duck.



"I'm your husband!" XL squealed with glee.

We went on a(nother) shopping spree, throughout which XL kept dolling me up with accessories that were hanging on the racks.

XL: "You're my Barbie doll! HAHAHA!"

Me: "???"

We were going to watch Brokeback Mountain but I changed my mind. Um, yeah.

At the end of the night, we crammed into my little car, as we've done so many times before (I think our record is seven in the backseat; don't ask how), and I circled the island sending them home one by one. We laughed, we screamed, we talked, and I very nearly cried.

And that made it all worth the while.

Forever friends #12128

A couple of weeks ago, we were asked to fill up some career profiling quiz for a class. When it was time for the final tally, the areas which I rated high on included things like way of life, achievement, creativity; this presumably ranks my priorities. Among my lower scores, though, was intellectual stimulation...

Me (furrowing my brows): "What's this supposed to mean? Why would I score so low on intellectual stimulation?! I like to be intellectually stimulated!"

Z (without even looking up): "Not as much as you like to be gastronomically stimulated."

Me: "..."

***



This is us on Valentine's Day: fooling around with temporary tattoos on various body parts, including M's bicep and XL's ankle.

Baby Dean

Move over, Ben, there's a new baby in town! :)



Baby Dean (otherwise known as Nephew #2), came screaming into this world on February 13 at 3.1 kg via C-section after 12 hours of labour! According to patriarchal Chinese tradition, Dean is the first of his generation in our family line, which makes his name that much more meaningful. :)

Post-Valentine's Day post

It hasn't happened yet, but I'm sure that if I allow myself to dwell on how much work I have, I might actually shed tears. I suppose next week's break is timely, then -- break from lessons, at least, that will hopefully allow me to catch up on my gazillion projects, term papers, essays, and presentations.

On a less depressing more cheery note, dinner tonight was pretty good: seafood at East Coast (yeah, we did make a couple of wrong turns, but you already knew that). Some of you may remember that my aunt is stationed in Korea; one of her Korean girls colleagues is in town for some company meetings, and my aunt asked if I could take her out to dinner, maybe with a couple of friends -- so that's what we did. She's only a couple of years older than I am, very sweet, and speaks impeccable English. (In the distance, I can almost hear the clunking of dropping jaws...) Best of all, dinner was on the company's tab: drunken prawns, chilli crabs, butter crabs, among various other miscellany -- the works! :)

So that was my Valentine's Day, or at least the part of it that wasn't spent in the computer lab. Ooh, and HW composed another ditty for us -- AWWW! (This might help explain the somewhat cryptic references.) Incidentally, someone actually asked me to post "more HW-related entries." I wonder what this does for my self-esteem, that others are more interested in my friends than they are in me, in my own little internet domain! I guess we'll find out. Hur hur.

I never notice these things -- who I post about, and why and when. Perhaps this means that HW has toned down his bewildering behaviour... NAH, it definitely isn't that! Yeck, I must be tired.

More (precious) than words

I thought that the speech impediment would be the worst after-effect of the op, but in the past few days that I haven't been able to move half of my face, I've found that what I've missed the most hasn't been the talking, but the laughter and -- even more surprisingly -- the smiles.

I guess with friends and family, they are (on some level) conscious of my condition, so they understand the cause of my tacitness, and my apparent lack of appreciation of their jokes. (I actually had to issue a warning to my friends, that whoever made me laugh ran the risk of bursting my stitches, and would have to sew back the wound for me.) Plus, with mobile phones and online messaging these days -- not to mention the conventional pen-and-paper -- I've been doing much better than I'd expected.

But it is the unnamed faces and the non-verbal forms of communication that I've found myself unexpectedly ill-equipped to deal with; when someone holds the door open for you, or when your car is stopped at the zebra-crossing, and the old lady ambles across and gives you a grateful wave -- the impaired facial communication leaves me stranded; I don't know how else to convey these simple acts of courtesy. A "thank you" or "you're welcome" unaccompanied by a smile comes off insincere at best, and condescending at worst.

I suppose I should be thankful that this is just a temporary problem; the bruising has subsided significantly anyway, and I've been able to manage a slight grin -- if somewhat awkward and lopsided. It's also made me think of all the times that I've been at the receiving end of ostensible indifference or rudeness, and how perhaps I haven't been as forgiving as I should have. After all, we all have our reasons, and it might be nice to extend some unsolicited understanding or sympathy now and then. And hey, at least mine's just an op; think about how much more some poor guy who's been cynical for 20 years needs those.

***


Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson

More than (three) words

In three words: wisdom tooth op.

In three pieces:



***

Start.

Dentist (looking at the X-ray film): "Wow, yours is going to be a difficult one. It's at such a ridiculous angle, I'm going to have to take a lot of the bone away."

Me: "???"

Dentist: "Actually, I don't like doing surgeries on weekends, because if anything happens..."

He shook his head.

Me: "Just how was that supposed to help?"

Dentist: "Yeah, sometimes the truth hurts."

Me: "..."

***

Middle.

Dentist (to Nurse): "This drill is too small. Can you get me the bigger one?"

Me (blindfolded): *cries*

***

End.

Dentist: "It's out! It's finally out!"

Nurse (laughing): "You make it sound like she just gave birth!"

Dentist (laughing): "It's a boy! It's a boy!"

Me (not laughing): "..."

***

End. Part Deux.

Dentist (examining the tooth after stitching me up): "Um..."

Me (sitting up): "What? Is something wrong?"

Dentist: "There seems to be a missing root."

Me (gasping): "What is that supposed to mean?!"

Dentist: "We're going back in."

Me: "!!!"

***

So yes, twice opened up, twice stitched back. Got my money's worth there.

Funnies aside (and it wasn't meant to be funny, really; I have eight pills to pop thrice daily, and I've already taken more than the prescribed dose; well, they're Painkillers, and I have a lot of pain to kill), this was an absolutely ghastly weekend. I've had to say goodbye to two people -- one I've loved almost all my life, and another that I'd grown to love; I've cried more over their departure than I have from the tooth extraction. Truth is, I would go through another surgery (and I've been POUNDING on the table from the pain, mind you) if it meant that I could have them stay with me.

***

Side/site note: Blogger is eating my comments up; that's new. Sorry to everyone who posted a comment and found it missing! :(

Owie

I may have just set a new personal record. At the end of the third day of Chinese New Year -- after the excessive obligatory snacking -- I have a toothache. I'm hoping that I'm wrong -- that perhaps I somehow managed to punch myself in the cheek during the course of the day, and that's why my left molar is hurting.

Give me all your ang pows. Maybe that will make it better!