“Silver” by Hundred Reasons is on the jukebox… “Say what you wanted to ask me, while you were sitting down. Say what you wanted to ask me. You opened up now…”
Brrrr, it’s cold in here. As my one-man portable electric heater asks for a pay-rise, I tell it that it’s crazy. But it hasn’t been this cold for a while. Fridge/freezer sales will suddenly start plummeting again to the sound of radiators demanding fair pay for their services. Low temperatures always make people talk crazy.
Whenever I open a new box of Pocky, I have a strange habit of counting the number of sticks quickly. It’s not quite an obsessive compulsive disorder, because often the thought of eating prevails over the thought of counting. Maybe I’m the only person in the world who does it, but I’ve taken it upon myself to become an independent investigator into quality control for them [Glico]. Each standard pack should contain 25 sticks, which has always been the case. I’ve never had anything under that amount. Even when some sticks are broken, the pieces still add up. 25 is the magical Pocky number, but imagine my surprise when at the start of the week I opened a pack of luscious Strawberry Pocky to count not 25, but 26 sticks! I thought perhaps I might have been dreaming. Recount! Recounted 26 again. Now, this felt good. It was like I was being rewarded for my astuteness and what better way then discovering extra pieces of a favourite snack? I should perhaps write a letter of complaint about it, saying that it messed up routine and insist that they keep a tight eye on security and quality control. Letters of complaint to food companies are usually acknowledged with a free voucher, so perhaps I should get writing. The hunt for means of getting free Pocky for life goes on.
I can say that one of my new year’s resolutions has been going well, especially lately. At the start of the year I embraced the new year as it arrived and shook hands with it, promising to change and do a few things. It was a sacred agreement, for yes, we spit shook on it (nothing binds two things together better than warm loogie). I vowed to get more exercise and I’ve been keeping up my end of the bargain so the year had better keep up its end of the deal and provide me with a good year. Can people get sued over verbal agreements based on new year’s resolutions? Does a spit shake have any weight in court?
The exercising is frequent and I am running at least once a week, which is more than double of what I was doing previously (i.e. zero). Sometimes I make it out twice in one week! Other than running, I’m working out pretty much everyday with squats and push-ups. Over time it does pay off and your body does get used to it. After the first day I was sore all over and couldn’t do exercises for 2 days. Then it got easier. Now I can work out everyday and there will be no real pain come the following morning.
I was going to incorporate swimming into my exercising regime this week, but couldn’t since I was busy. Might have gone this weekend, but the thought of avoiding the crowds sounded like a healthier option, so I’ll probably go next week. It would have been really convenient if my parents’ good friends lived closer so that I could pop around and make full use of their backyard swimming pool (complete with deep end and diving board). When I was younger I didn’t go swimming in there on more than 2 occasions because the water got deep really suddenly (and quickly) and back then I was a fairly incompetent swimmer (and fairly incompetent tall person). That and it was not heated, so was always as cold as the outside air, which during Autumn was not cool.
Swimming for me had a strange learning curve. I started going regularly at the age of about 8 with the school when it was introduced into the curriculum. Before then, I don’t remember ever having been in a swimming pool. So, upon getting in the water, I realised that I didn’t know how to swim. This inability continued for about about 2 years or so. For some reason I just couldn’t swim, though staying afloat wasn’t too much of a problem (the trick is to just go lifeless). The best I could do was pick up my 10 metre badge for swimming, which is about as useful as lead swimming trunks if I fell into the middle of a deep pond.
I next went swimming about 5 years after that, on holiday in Cyprus. The hotel had a pool and it looked fun, so I dove in and did laps of the pool. But wait, I couldn’t even swim well, so what was I doing? Miraculously, I took to the water like a fish and to me it’ll probably be one of the most memorable incidences of “mind over matter.” I had totally forgotten that I didn’t know how to swim, so I swam anyway. Kind of like the classic tale of how the bumblebee flies anyways. A bumblebee’s wings are too small to take its oversized body to flight, but it was like no one told the bumblebee, so it just did what the other winged insects did. Fly. Next time I go I’ll have to check how far I can actually swim, but it’s pretty far by now. On holiday in Thailand at the end of 2001, I was swimming pretty much the whole time I was in the water.
Which reminds me that I need to get a copy of the photos off the guys from the Thailand holiday. I have to get the ones we took on Phi Phi Island, which we renamed (unofficially) Monkey Island, because it was fairly secluded and quiet, especially by the evening when the day-trippers had left. It didn’t really bear any other resemblence to the LucasArts game of the same name, but there were a lot of monkeys about to justify its nickname from us. Just sifting through the photographs take me back there and I can almost feel the warm sun shining on my face as I float on my back in the water, staring vertically into the sky whilst it conjures up pictures for me with its clouds. Definitely have to get the underwater camera photos too, to see what I look like executing the disco diving dance underwater (you know, the one where you pinch your nose and hold your breath, pretending you’re sinking in water whilst the other hand moves in the wavelike motion of the sea). Ah, the memories, even though it was over a year ago now. The dodgy coconut milkshakes, the dodgy toilets, the dodgy food stalls, the debates over where to go to eat, the debates over whose turn it was to sleep on the dodgy foldup bed and of course, the debates over who the best-looking presenters on MTV Asia were. Ah, the memories.
I love swimming. I’m not fortunate enough to live near any exotic beaches, so have to resort to dreary public swimming pools (which do in no way resemble resorts). Freshwater and seawater is best, but still, swimming is one of the best exercises because it works all the muscles and helps with your breathing. But the best reason is that you’re not left feeling sweaty at the end (albeit reeking of industrial strength chlorine). When I’m out running and finally lose my breath, I’m usually perspiring heavily like a treadmilled gorilla so what I want to do is immediately take a shower or bath. Which I do anyway after I come out of the pool, but it’s nice to not have to experience the sweaty flush-faced feeling I’m used to when out running.
The long awaited second series of Smallville has started up on TV, so I’m going to be finding myself regularly tuning in for that on Sundays. I’ve converted Mum into watching it too, but that wouldn’t have been too hard seeing as she already religiously watches Roswell High and Stargate SG-1. I don’t really know why I like it and why it’s the only TV series that I will watch, for lack of a better word, religiously. Perhaps it’s the childhood influence in me that used to read the Superman comics and watch the films or perhaps it’s just the simplicity of the episodes and the build up to Clark telling Lana how he really feels about her. Others might say it’s solely because of Kristin Kreuk (who plays Lana). I can neither confirm nor deny any of those things, but I do know I like it because of its uncertainty and the amazing chemistry between the main characters. Films and series always work better when we are allowed to follow characters who are plagued with uncertainty and are thus trying to learn more about themselves. Learning more about a person whilst they make their own discoveries about themselves is one of the most liberating journeys one could take.
Also, I noticed in the show how easy the head male jock, called Whitney, had it. He was the best sportsman on the team and was dating the nicest girl in school. Not only that, but no one made any Whitney Houston jokes at him. Not one reference to The Bodyguard or “I Will Always Love You.” This is completely unrealistic, seeing as it’s high school and all. In real life, any guy named Whitney would be teased to no end by his peers.
Following the inconvenience of congestion charges in central London (and paying of congestion charges), I found out that they have introduced a registration system that allows you to pay the £5 congestion charge via SMS text messaging. I thought it was a good idea to be able to pay things off via this method. In the Phillipines, the Catholic church even passed down a new rule that says texting your sins to a priest is not an acceptable protocol and that any sins recited in e-mails, faxes or text messages will not be absolved. It’s a pretty cool concept, but introduces the possibility of losing touch with actually visiting church, which is one of the main reasons a confession box is located inside a church. It would be cool if they had some sort of travelling priest who drives around in a confession box equipped with wheels and an engine, and stops everytime someone hails him to confess. The things I’d do if I had my own religion.
I’m finding that when I type, I’ve recently started to spell it “ocassion” instead of “occasion” and upon typing it out, realise it’s wrong so go back to correct it. Same thing happened a while ago when suddenly for some reason I started spelling it “tommorow” instead of “tomorrow.” I don’t remember receiving any bumps to the head, so that can’t be ruled out, but it’ll pass with a bit of time. Must be some sort of spelling feedback trial and error; a subconscious way of checking if you’re spelling things correctly by writing them out first and then looking at them to check for familiarity.
Thought of the day: Happy birthday, Mum!
