March 22nd, 2015

happy girl

(no subject)

I didn't get into Oxford. I'm not ready to talk about this.

I archived the rejection email on my phone so that I didn't have to look at it every time I opened the mail app. I am pretty embarrassed to say that I cried quite a bit over this. Yes, I can't help it - I feel like my life is over.

More logical thoughts in a few days' time will follow, if I feel up to it.

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I had brunch with my Bitch Club on Saturday at Tiong Bahru somewhere. The last time I saw them was probably in 2012. They are pretty much still the same, except that I expected Baoyue to be late but she was actually on the same train as me - and I was a mere five minutes late. The most shocking thing was that Simon was late when he used to be the only person who was ever punctual for our meetings. He was so sheepish that he bought our second round of coffee and threw in two slices of cake. How sweet, right?

It'd been so long since we last sat around to talk about anything and everything and sometimes nothing that time went by quite quickly, and before we knew it, 3 hours had passed. It made me miss the old days, like one is prone to, I suppose, when one reaches a certain point in one's life whereby one solidifies one's true circle of friends and realises, first, how sadly in short supply they are; and second, as a result, how one should cherish them because people like that don't come easily. The connection made is such that it is not easily severable, not even by more than two years of international absence. Along with Mel, Pei and Khai, my experience in junior college was enhanced and made better because of them.

I really should finally meet Mel soon!

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I had dinner and drinks with Kenneth on Friday at Raffles Place, a bar/restaurant called Black Swan. I was actually really surprised by how good the farmer's salad was. He was the same old Kenneth. He didn't even look different. I don't know how he manages to look like he's 25 when he's been a practising lawyer for 3 years or so and is prone to working long hours (possibly just because). I'm not surprised by the latter, to be honest. I met him while interning at a mid-sized law firm in 2007 and he'd already exhibited signs of workaholicism. I remember staying in the office till 10pm on my second day or something with Kenneth for company, nevermind that interns, who were paid next to nothing, simply did not work late. Anyway, we had a nice friendship and it was nice to see him again.

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I'm going to bed. I'm going to Capella's Sunday brunch with my parents for their 30th wedding anniversary. Can't wait.
happy girl

(no subject)

I just swam 71 (consecutive) laps in my tiny pool and I am feeling very accomplished as a result. I tend to think that tennis helps me release aggression and pent-up anger because the act of hitting the ball is capable of lending itself to a great exertion of force and strength; but the truth is, swimming helps me vent more than tennis does, and this is for two reasons. First, I am so bad that tennis that I end up getting pissed off - sometimes even more pisse off than I already was - by the end of the session. Second, and more importantly, being in the water is one of the few times that I feel truly relaxed with the kind of clarity of mind that doesn't come easily to me on normal occasions. I've always liked to be in the water, and going to the Croatian and Barcelonian seasides only reinforced that for me. I would love to live by the beach someday.

Tonight, I thought about Oxford and how the fate of my remaining PhD applications are entirely out of my hands, and I thought about the one thing that I could control - my body, my fitness, my weight. I pushed myself harder than I had in recent times. I walked away from the pool feeling triumphant as a result.

I am getting what I want - no matter what it takes.

*

I started watching Suits again because I ran out of things to watch, and because I was misled by a clip from the show that I saw on Pretty Little Liars’ Facebook page in which Mike worked as a delivery boy. I thought maybe this stupid show finally bought itself some integrity and produced a credible storyline for Mike, but no. It was a scene from some stupid flashback. I continue to be completely irritated by the way the show is dishonest with the precise reason Mike is a fraud. I love how Harvey and Louis and whoever else make it sound like the only crime he’s committed is that he never went to law school, when the fact is so much worse than that. Granted, you probably need a law degree to be eligible for the bar, but I can’t even begin to express how hard I rolled my eyes when Louis “forgave Mike” and said, “You’re not a fraud. You just didn’t go to law school.”

Um, no, he is a fraud because he didn’t take the bar, he didn’t qualify as a lawyer, and he is not licenced to practise law. I hated how the show treated this issue with such dishonesty amounting to a total misrepresentation of the real crux of the issue. It was the reason I stopped watching it. I kept watching Season 4 this time because I was misled by that clip and I was waiting for the story to change – but it never did. Now I’ve got one episode left and I’m only going to watch it because I want to see Harvey and Donna make out already, and because Harvey continues to be very good-looking.

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Roger’s in the final of Indian Wells. Thanks to the time difference and the fact that I work now, I haven’t watched a single match, and I won’t be able to watch the final against Djokovic; I’m just not waking up at 4am for this. I hope he wins though…obviously.

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Lunch at Capella was glorious. The food hasn’t changed since Wei Chuen and I went there 3 or 4 years ago, except the truffle risotto became beef cheek risotto. I was so sad. I really liked the tomato caprese (my favourite salad of all-time), the lobster potato salad, and the sea salt-crusted sea bass. The dessert section was very mouth-watering and I was initially excited about the range of French desserts on display, but 1) I was too full at the end to enjoy it; 2) I was too afraid of being fat to enjoy it; 3) the portions of the cakes were too big to finish 5 of them in their entirety; and 4) as with almost all grass roots desserts that land into the hands of high class chefs and hoteliers, after eating a Paris Brest from a humble bakery in a random street in Paris, and after eating eclairs after eclairs over my four trips to Paris, the “high class” ones paled terribly in comparison. I have no interest in creative “twists” to what is in itself a very delicious pastry; I like the item the way it is.

This is making me miss Paris with a slight pang. Generally, I find French food really underwhelming; but French pastries and desserts are probably my favourite ever. Sinfully delicious.

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I’m going to watch the last episode of Suits and go to bed or something.