Hot Springs & Snow-Capped Mountains

Apartment for Private Sale on St Kilda Road, Melbourne, Australia

2007-02-04T02:32:00.000+10:30

More details & photos, go to:
http://jonihayashi.multiply.com/journal/item/20

A Farewell in August

2006-09-08T22:43:00.000+09:30

There are few who truly know, amidst the successes, celebrations, carefree photographs, excitable announcements of the past weeks, and the appearance of complete regularity in persona, that I am labouring through each day with the weight of deep sadness in the very core of my heart and my mind.

I sought strength in self-containment. In fact, in the first week I was petrified of others knowing, lest they give me concessions or treat me differently, and then I would only certainly be reminded of a painful reality. I wouldn't be able to hold it together.

Still there were people who, unbeknowned to themselves, tried to tear down my only avenue of strength - my silence. I couldn't bear to interact beyond the call of duty. I simply couldn't bring myself to go out because I was exhausted from playing normal. I sincerely apologised for breaking the initial engagement and begged please to trust that I had my reasons, but only to receive a response so cold. A response that threatened to crush my already broken foundation.

I uphold a perfectly normal exterior during work hours, but by the time I start heading to my car to leave work, I am already distraught. I let my tired body rest and let myself cry all the way home. I cried nightly, made up my swollen eyes in the morning, come into work with no signs of the night before, worked even more hours as the deadline closed in, and then come home and cry myself to sleep again.

All I want is to be there for the people I love. I am every one of their broken hearts put together because we are family. There is a void, even today - weeks later, that I cannot explain. I never saw it. I wasn't there. I am surrounded by thousands of kilometres of possible self-preserving distractions, but yet, my soul and body cannot deny what has happened. My deep-rooted connection to my family, is clearly unmistakable.

Someone is dearly missed, but will always be loved by family, whether from near or far, in thoughts or prayers. Rest & trust now in the arms of God.

A Private Bathroom With Towels

2006-08-20T23:48:00.000+09:30

Joni's Diary:

25th June 2006 (Sunday night)

Arrived into LA for the last time at 11.00pm, and checked into Sheraton Four Points Hotel. I picked it because it was practical – I was arriving late and it was close to the airport with complimentary 24-hour shuttle service and 24-hour day stays (i.e. midnight check-in = midnight check-out – why didn’t the others think of that!?).

For the first time after staying in five different places over the course of two weeks, I knew I was definitely getting towels. Towels! Fancy that. Not to mention a king-sized bed, large open spaces, toiletries, a lobby so massive you could be lost for weeks, and...behold, a lift up to my floor.

Strangely however, in the face of all these universal, modern comforts of a typical Western hotel, instead of falling to my knees and crying Hallelujah, I stepped back and thought - by golly it’s predictable. :s

Then for the first time after staying in five different places over the course of two weeks, I was suddenly immensely glad that I didn’t deprive myself of the multi-faceted, full-flavoured adventure that it has been. I didn’t opt for air-conditioned luxury coaches. I never took a cab to and from any airport. I didn’t opt to be spoon-fed, taken by the hand, to follow the flag of a tour leader, to be told to eat, walk, see the same things as the people on the next tour bus. Yeah, I was on a budget but I shudder to think of all the experiences I would never know of and thus would never miss, if I hadn’t gone cheap. I wouldn’t have experienced charming neighbourhoods, stayed in a lop-sided building in Chelsea, laughed all the way up 5 storeys of stairs in a tipsy state after cocktails with my galpal, savoured the doggy-bag breakfasts at Nana’s Treats, heard the most colourful 'Jerry Springer'-style domestic dramas next door, realised that florists opened 24 hours, or had breakfast on a warm early morning atop a quiet rustic roof overlooking NYC.

What would I get instead?

A private bathroom with towels - metaphorically speaking.

26th June 2006 (Monday)

Caught the $0.75 Blue Bus to Santa Monica after waffles at the hotel. Love floating amongst local Los Angelenos and just observe them go about their everyday lives. Get on the bus. Get off the bus. Sit and stare. Sit and listen to music. Stand and daydream. It wasn't New York. And it wasn't glitzy glamourous 'Hollywood'. They were suburban children, grandmothers, pensioners, housewives, dads and babies. Everyday people of multi-ethnicity and for that 40 minutes we spent together, I was just one of them...

New York: Meeting People - Part III

2006-08-17T23:07:00.000+09:30

What's a holiday without cultural exchange?

'We' doesn't mean You & I

Now that was awkward.

And I mean, I'd never been given the face before. The face that wholeheartedly said, "Look, I don't know you, but either way, I'm heterosexual." Holy moly if I only get one chance to be beamed up, Scotty, let it be now.

On 23rd June, rain darting down on Manhattan sidewalks and fizzling like cold water on screaming hot teflon streets, I found myself struggling with my umbrella and map in the southward direction on Fifth Avenue, wondering why it is that I never figure out where I'm going before leaving the hotel.

Feeling aimless, I detour into a quiet breakfast place for refuge. Have to regroup, I thought. Need to rethink my day now that the streets were turning soggy. Sit down, eat, study the map, and regroup.

I asked for their Breakfast Set No.2. You'd think after forklifting my belly out of restaurants in the US would have taught me to order a little more conservatively. So shoot me, I'm a slow learner.

I'll have the creamy cauliflower soup too, thanks. Doh!

Checked out and started chin-wagging with the cashier chick. Asked her directions to an Internet cafe, and where else I could offload my hard-earned cash besides at all the other shopping stores I'd already been to. She was happy to help.

Food arrives and as usual, hungry for food as I am for good views, I ask: "Can we go upstairs?"

I get the face. I don't recognise it.

"Oh, is it closed?"

Now she speaks, one eye-brow raised so high it's lost over her hairline, her body retracting further back and slouching on one shoulder.

"You and I? Go upstairs?"

One...two...three seconds....

Hey Oblivion, meet Realisation. Realisation, say hello to Oblivion.

There's something about having just picked up a girl, unintentionally, and now trying to defend your sexuality, without sounding as if you're covering up your disappointment of her rejecting your lesbian advances. Your stuttering and fumbling does nothing for your efforts to diffuse this sinking misunderstanding you've inflicted upon yourself.

'We' and 'Us' are everywhere in Australia. I do prefer it too. Just seems more polite, I think, instead of 'I want this, I want to go here, Give ME...Please show ME this...'

Obviously, I didn't explain this very well to her.

Before I exit I apologise to her once again, and I'm convinced she's absolutely none the wiser when she replies with deliberate emphasis,"WE don't mind. It doesn't bother US". And she smiles.

She's mocking me, isn't she?

Sigh. I give up.

What can you get for a dollar?

A slightly dramatised story that has a slow start, garnished in the middle with a bit of suspense, a nice-to-know lesson, and ends somewhat in a Hollywood-style finish i.e. happy ending, befitting of its setting at LA International Airport.

Not exactly your episode of 24, but I had exactly an hour to make a phonecall, have my luggage delivered to LAX from a god-knows-how-far offsite storage facility, check-in, proceed through the security screenings and board my flight from LA to NY.

Armed with a dollar bill, I became the one no one wanted to know. While everyone went about their own business, I was the lone wanderer who invaded the personal space of highly cautious and suspicious travelers, not surprising if a dozen security cameras were already closing in on me (keep up, hey? - we're talking American airports here!) as I went in search of someone who could break the bill for me.

"Do you have two fifties for a dollar?"

The African-American taxi attendant screws his face up, shakes his head and says, "Huh? What do you want?"

I tilt my head back to look up at him towering over me.

"You know - I have a dollar. I need two fifties to make a phone call."

"Fifties??"

He takes my dollar note and shoves four quarters into my hands and gets on with serving other people.

My flight to NY proceeds as planned.

The end.

Moral of Story: If you're asking for a particular currency denomination, make sure it's last circulation was not in the 1970s.

Simple Saturday Pleasures

2006-08-12T17:07:00.000+09:30

Saturdays for me are about getting back at all the militaristic days between (& including) Mondays and Fridays. You sneer at those painful early mornings by rising slowly, letting the afternoon sun warm your sheets and meet your restful eyes. You pull faces at efficiency & productivity by sitting up on your bed and watching through the window, the world already spinning a few extra hours for those down below - rowing, jogging & soaking in the most welcoming of weekend weathers - and realise...my my, something's missing today. Ahh..that presence of guilt.

(today's picture-perfect view from the window)

Payback for weekday half-hour lunchbreaks at 12.30pm sharp in the cafeteria, is a time-stopping Saturday afternoon alfresco-style Sashimi Don and Salad Platter in South Melbourne at our favourite Japanese restaurant, then taking it back to homebase with a truly unremorseful serving of Christine (brownie biscuit, valrhona milk chocolat mousse, crème brulee) and soy hot chocolate at Laurent. Whilst reading The Good Weekend. Whilst adoring the excitable pooches as they greet each other at each passing by.

There is no day like Saturday to send the work week to another mode of existence, and seeing it only comes but once every seven days, use it oh so wisely...^_^

A Little Lemon & Lots of Love

2006-08-06T02:28:00.000+09:30

Following Wednesday's stand-down time, I was marched back to work the next day. This mental decision to interrupt the healing process obviously did not go down well with Body, because then she decided to retaliate. Let’s see you try to go to work without a voice. How’ya like that, huh? Wanna call your manager and tell her you can’t make it? Let’s see how productive you’ll be without Sign Language v.101. Go on, hotshot. Let’s see you go to work.

Friday morning Voicebox malfunctioned, just as Body promised. At every one of the incessant coughs, I felt as if the back of my head was smashing against a brick wall. I was a concussing pro-bacterial human-sized germ. I was a pantomime. A silent movie. A wind tunnel.

Defeated once again, I plumped up my pillows and tucked myself back into bed with my laptop. Here’s where my story really starts.

I want to say, that I’m in love again, simply because, I know I am loved.

Some may say that a year and a half isn’t quite long enough whereby you can belch, spit, snort and expel right in front of each other. Heck, they’re absolutely right. Gav and I never began to draw up a courtesy rule, but somehow have always mutually respected each other strongly in this way.

Unfortunately, recent circumstances would have me in an embarrassing state, where my coughing and blowing would bring about expelling unnameable substances which even to me is already undeniably disgusting, let alone for another individual. Oh and the sounds I make whilst I’m at it. Boy do I pull good impersonations of my grandpa on a good day.

In spite of my most grubby form, Gav battled my surrounding landmine, as he calls it, of soggy tissues to care for me all morning. The wonder of this person is that I never asked this of him. Despite having planned some time ago to take this day off, he was in and out of my bedroom with hot lemon juice and water, then it was breakfast in bed, then my laptop was losing power so it was the battery charger, then it was a top-up of water for my lemon juice. Instead of repulsing him, my grandpa impersonations were what brought him back into my bedroom time and again with cuddles, and kisses to the forehead.

I ask, my head hanging in shame, “Hon, am I grubby?”
“Yes, you are.”
He smiles and leaves the room again.

I especially loved his response to my request for a chilled TimTam from the fridge. Here I was, a mute and a throat filled with muck, and I wanted a TimTam!

I whisper: “Can I have a TimTam?”
“No…”
“Please please pleaseee…I need a TimTam…”
“hmm…OK, but just one...”

If I ever felt more beautiful and loved on one of the worst, daggiest, grubbiest, snottiest days, it would be because of him and the way he made me feel.

To the most wonderful boyfriend an icky girl could have…thank you sweety. Still so in love with you...

Geez...Just Take The Day Off

2006-08-01T20:58:00.000+09:30

Perhaps it was overdue. Perhaps this is in fact a picture of strength and not weakness, for the fact that she had skimmed through over 40 hours of flying, 17 days in a foreign country, 30kgs of baggage pulled across NYC streets, some 100 hours in accumulated sleep debt, surviving summer, autumn and more than half of a freeze-me-over-please winter, an overly obsessive week at work - all with the zest of an athlete and the energy of a show poodle.

Perhaps it was last weekend that really steered Titanic into the iceberg, when she was outrageously outnumbered on the dancefloor by ridiculously young freshies who looked like they should be back in their dorms studying hard for some exam, or at least be sparing if only just a cheap after-thought for their parents' money instead of spending it all on make-up, skimpy clothes, hair rollers and buying every cute female a drink so that these girls might think something of them, though sadly not realising how wrong they are on that one, or how about something a little more original like not making repeatedly stupid mistakes for the next couple of years that they'll regret but seriously who cares because when that time comes they'll conjure up some philosophical excuse to console themselves that this is all part of growing up, and learning to be stronger, wiser, and whatever the yadda yadda yadda is. Yes, they were still there when she left the club. Youth wasted on the young. Tragic.

Anyway, now Miss Immunity, long-standing employee, has decided to go on vacation after having worked tirelessly for the past 6 months. I sure wasn't going to approve it, but she threatened to quit. No arguments there. So out she went, the ink off my signature barely lifted from my pen, her straw hat on and bags packed, and she was gone.

The tissues are mounting. My glands are having a field day. My taste buds are going on strike. My throat is conducting a science experiment. My ears are turning bionic. My body is on lockdown.

Now I know that defeated feeling of late last week was merely a prelude.

Let the opera begin.

The Feeling of Defeat

2006-07-28T22:55:00.000+09:30

OK. So I spoke too soon yesterday.

Half an hour into the office today, a Friday - the last day of the work week and supposedly the next happiest day to Saturday, I sat slumped at my desk enveloped by a feeling of defeat.

That was just it. The feeling of defeat, even though I wasn't sure what or who had defeated me. It was as if i'd lost my will...to work. The momentum I had fell and landed with a loud thud. The week had finally caught up with me. The late departures from work and later nights to bed. The marathons between emails and phonecalls and meetings and briefings.

Still, though sick leave was just a thought away, I met a supplier, sat in for a food tasting session that turned out to be my lunch, took the photographer on a site tour, and finally finished up at a decent time of half 5. All the while still carrying with me this sense of hopelessless, physical weakness, and a 5-second lagtime behind the normal speed of the rest of the world.

Going to bed now. Here's to a better first best day of the week tomorrow.

If Nothing Else, There's Always Cheesecake

2006-07-27T22:20:00.000+09:30

Something huge is happening at work. I must resist from getting down to details, just because commonsense tells me there must be an informal confidentiality clause somewhere in my informal acceptance of this temporary and informal role. That and there'll be media and ministers in attendance, so I guess mum's the word for now.

Last Friday I was offered the blue pill-red pill option. "You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes".

I could have said, "What? Me? But I've never co-ordinated events before. Oh no no no..." But here I am, still falling down this rabbit-hole, just as Neo, despite his comparably more comfortable existence in the Matrix could not look past Morpheus's sales pitch.

Since then, i hadn't been able to find the brakes. I'm free-falling on the fast lane, and every day since Friday has been go-go-GO. The phones are going off, everybody needs answers to meet someone else's deadline, this morning's decisions are useless by mid-morning, there are meetings with PR agencies, photographers, caterers, staging guys, and that's only been the last four days.

Admittedly, i'm loving the challenge. Sure the hours are a little crazier, I've gone from virtually a desk job to suddenly having early morning solo meetings with impressionable suppliers under the pretence that I absolutely know it all, but for a change i'm being paid to not do my job. And changes...aren't necessarily all bad...

To be continued...

New York: Meeting People - Part II

2006-07-05T18:03:00.000+09:30

What's a holiday without meeting a few interesting people?

The Empire State Boys

The panoramic night views of Manhattan and beyond atop the Empire State Building can only be described as none other than…surreal. Awesome. Thrilling. Just when you think you couldn’t feel any smaller in the city that has 24-hr pharmacies the size of K-Marts in Melbourne, walk-in diners the size of a buffet halls and buildings that pierce through the clouds, you’re on top of New York City on this clear windy night, trying to comprehend how insignificant you truly are in the scale of things, and meanwhile overwhelmed by its presence.

Dragging our feet reluctantly back to Earth, WF and I went through our visitors’ guidebook on a bench just at the base of the ESB. At midnight, the night was young. What does New York have to offer? Who will answer our call?

“Do you girls need some help?”

We said we were looking for a place to go and they said they knew a cool place, an open rooftop bar nearby that overlooked the Empire State Building. They asked if we’d join them. We put the guidebook away and entrusted our night plans to three local New Yorkers who obviously had better local knowledge than we did.

Turned out they were three friends who’d recently reconnected after years of losing contact - Rob currently a Masters of Philosophy student, Jason a banker and Mick in Finance went to school together. It was an evening of culture exchange over cocktails and beers and getting a crash course on pure strangers and what led each of us to this very place tonight. Unfortunately the cocktail I had kicked in sooner than I would usually expect, and with a promise to meet up again, the boys hailed us a cab back to our hotel. The night ended there, and so does this story. By the way, that open rooftop bar – it was lovely. View of the ESB. Benches lined against the wall with cushions and pot plants. Candles, jazz and the open sky.

When Lindy met Charley O

Was in Times Square when out of nowhere a massive craving attack for Lindy’s famous NY-baked cheesecake hit me like a raging guided missile. I had to get some. But it was on 53rd St, and I was only at about 46th – oh gosh, I’m never gonna make it! Kill me now!

Then I remembered Charley O’s Times Square Grill served slices of Lindy’s cheesecakes and it was only on 49th St at the corner of Broadway. I can make it to that one! Yes - saved!

Ushered to my seat by the window, I scrolled right down the menu to desserts for cheesecake.

I’ll have the cheesecake, please.
Not having any dinner?
No, I’ll just have the cheesecake, thanks.
Any drinks? Our bartender makes amazing martinis here.
No, just the cheesecake. That’s all I want.
You really like cheesecakes, huh?
Yes I do.
Well, next time you come back, I’ll buy you cheesecake. My treat.

Only half listening by this time - fingers tapping away subconsciously, body fidgety from fighting this sudden drop in cheesecake levels.

It was consumed in a slow, satiating process. I stared blankly outside at the silent moving picture that is Times Square human traffic, and simply indulged myself on one of these last nights in New York.

As I was leaving, the usher stopped me and said again that he’d buy me cheesecake the next time I came back. I was about to laugh off his gesture when he suggested a time I should come back. How about Sunday? I could have, but I declined. Equally for the reason that I wasn’t sure what message I’d be sending out if I’d accepted his offer, as that I was fulfilled enough to leave my cheesecake rendezvous-ing days behind me.

New York: Meeting People - Part I

2006-07-04T18:20:00.000+09:30

What's a holiday without meeting a few interesting people?

The Dodgy

After many a tray of airplane meals, 2 in-flight movies and having crossed a dozen time zones, I finally landed in Los Angeles. This business of travelling in a time capsule that finds you departing on a Sunday afternoon and arriving 14 hours later, still a Sunday afternoon of the same day, certainly leaves you more than a little disorientated.

It’s interesting that being armed with a couple of hundred dollar US notes don’t get you anywhere outside airport grounds if you don’t have even two quarters to make a local phone call. The 5-hour flight delay had left me with under 3 hours to get to Hollywood, and my only focus was to get to Les Miserables on time! I must have paced back and forth one too many rounds with my big blue bag that I caught the attention of a seemingly kind elderly man in his late 50s/early 60s.

Moments like these he’s God-sent, because he offers you his cellphone to make your call & helps you get your NY-sector luggage into storage. He assures you that he’s an airport ground staff (offering you a business card for proof), his wife works for American Airlines and he was waiting to pick her up. He asks you some general questions and you show him your itinerary quickly. And before you whisk off, he tells you that he lives really close to the airport and if you ran into any problems that night you should call him. You thank him gratefully, and just about forget all of this whilst you applaud with shameless tears the cast of Les Mis in a spectacular standing ovation.

The next morning, my head up in the air looking at the signs for my boarding gate, I bumped into Bill again. Actually, it looked awfully a lot like he had been waiting for me. There couldn’t be that many QANTAS flights, flying outbound to New York, departing in the morning. So there he was, equally surprised to see me but unable to adequately satisfy my question of why he was there. Then he reiterated the same facts he should have known I already knew: he lived near the airport, his wife was a flight attendant (who apparently kicked him for not inviting me to dinner last night) and in that moment whilst still listening and smiling attentively at him, he wouldn’t even realise that I was already processing the loopholes. Something was amiss. I then remembered to forget when I was returning to L.A, not even whether it was an A.M or P.M arrival, what my real name was, and suddenly “dying for a chocolate croissant, so I’ll see you later. Yea, sure I’ll email you when I come back to L.A”.

Just as I was queuing up to board, Bill returns again with a box of chocolates. He says he only does this for “special people”. Well, I guess we’d never really know how ‘special’ he thought I was. I know I could have just been a paranoid pessimist who mistook kindness for deception, but whether my photo ends up a statistical face on the ‘Missing Persons’ board throughout LA, or whether I live to tell the next story, was a decision I faced just hours into my holiday. Curiosity killed the cat, but not THIS cat. She’s going on holiday!!

The Married

On the packed shuttle bus from JFK International Airport to Midtown Manhattan, I took an empty seat next to someone who would later introduce himself as Eric. Finally, two days and 19 hours of flying later, I was in New York! I was completely fixated at the rolling scenery, but he said hi and we engaged in a conversation about 20 minutes into the 45-minute journey. He was Israeli, in New York for two days on business, a record producer at heart but his main business was sourcing American clothing and importing them to his home country. He spoke fluent English, so I don’t know why he said: “I don’t know how to say this in English, but umm…would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night? I get bored in New York.” The polite chit-chat came to a halt. Seeing his wife gave him that wedding band, and between us we shared a 20 year age gap and an unimpressive conversation so far, it helped my excuses flow oh so naturally. They were half-truths, not lies entirely. Apparently I was meeting a friend and didn’t have a phone to be contacted on, so it was goodbye and good luck.

The African Prince

Yes, bizarre as it was for a tour bus ticket seller to be an African Prince who abdicated the throne to be King, and for him to tell me this within 1 minute of stepping in my path, I might just have to take his word for it. TJ’s theory is that if 10 women walked by and he yelled out only to get the attention of one woman, that woman was destined to be his wife. I looked at him in that ‘you befuddled fool’ look (which channels through as a forced smile) and just entertained his theories. Heck, I’m on holiday – I’ll listen to anything! Big mistake because now he says we HAVE TO meet again. “It’s my day off tomorrow, I can take you on the tour bus for free and we can go sightseeing together.” “I really like you, I think you are really friendly. You must must call me”. I don’t have a phone, but yes, I’ll take your number. Let me talk to my friend first and see what she wants to do tomorrow. But sure I’ll call you. Yup, definitely. I actually thought of calling him just to say I couldn’t make it, but then decided there was nothing more I wanted to add to this story.

The Big Apple Beckons...

2006-05-20T23:45:00.000+09:30

Five months have gone by since my return from tomb-raiding temples in the Ancient Kingdom of Cambodge, and believe me when I say i've tried all I can to convince myself to keep focus on life in Melbourne.

Must say, it's been really good so far - upgraded to a new department & now working with some really fantastic people, paid 6 months' worth of mortgage repayments (6 of 100s more?), celebrated birthdays, hosted a girls' night & attended a couple more, had a housewarming, went clubbing, still totally adore my boyfriend, celebrated my birthday, stood up to an evil ex and gave him a piece of my mind (it was three years in the making, & let's just say...I exorcised it out of my system ^_^), and what else...next week co-hosting a private Biggest Morning Tea event at my place - looking forward to it!

Still, the restlessness lingered. Next flight out was definitely to Europe, but we weren't getting on that plane for at least another year or two. A year or two!! Meanwhile, there was waiting, and more waiting, and more contentment, but all the while this itch to take a million photos and awe over new surrounds continue to build up exponentially until suddenly you find yourself in the middle of an MSN conversation resembling something not too far from this:

Thursday, 18th May

WF (in Malaysia): Hey, I'm planning a trip to the States

Joni (in Australia): Looking 4 a partner to come?

WF: Come! I need a shopping partner!

Joni: OK. When?

WF: June

Joni: OK. I'm there!

Friday 19th May - flight booked and confirmed

Saturday 20th May - 9-hr research at Borders with a stack of Lonely Planets & a laptop.

And as they say, the rest was history, or, history to be made! So yes, Joni is going to the US!

Will have a total of two days by myself in Los Angeles (find me at a budget hostel off Hollywood Boulevard!) , followed by some awesome days and nights with my sista living it up in New York, then off to Chicago (no info yet!). The rest of it - who knows! I could be back in Manhattan if I can't get enough of it, catch a baseball game or a musical, concentrate on the neighbourhoods - Tribeca, Soho, or maybe head over to Philly or Boston. I dunno I dunno! But all I can say with certainty is that I can barely contain this excitement under my skin. Hear me!! I'm exciteddd!!!

Sure i'm still an ancient-culture-tomb-raiding-gezillions-years-of-mystical-history sorta travel junkie, but c'mon!! It's New York! It's a cliche in itself and you just can't go past it. I remember being this close to flying to NY from Tokyo because fares were just that dirt-cheap around January- Y32000!! Of course, over a few green teas at an izekaya with Japan-based New Yorker Guliano, I was told your doors and windows are sealed shut from the overnight snow during that time of year. So that was that.

Anyway, I think the last bit was pure rambling, so just ignore it! ^_^ Oooo....can't wait!! It's back to Borders tomorrow for more research!...

p.s. WF - if you're reading this, *muahh* Can't wait to see you in the city that never sleeps, and...neither will we!!

Chocolate Confessions...

2006-04-02T23:57:00.000+09:30

Overdose. I never imagined that was possible until I thought I wouldn’t survive to see the end of this weekend. If I could amount the chocolate I ate I’d be rolling in it like a pig in mud on a hot day. If we literally were what we eat, I’d be a chocolate character in the animated Cadbury commercial. Wouldn’t-it-be-nice-if-the-world-was-chocolate…?...

The unforgiving, pure chocolate indulging weekend started on Friday at Kokoblack on Lygon when I did the unthinkable and ordered the Mousse Martini and Hot Chocolate, finishing which I felt completely sickened and dreading the onset of a headache.

Undeterred, the chocolate-themed marathon continued the next evening during Girls’ Nite at my place. Following dinner, we proceeded to dive into one pot of Swiss cheese fondue and two pots of chocolate fondue lasting us till the end of the night. Nothing like dunking bountiful platters of fruits into bubbling chocolate to bring out evil gossips and belly-aching laughter to an all-girls’ chillout session. Love it!

Sunday afternoon, I wake up to a chocolate hangover. Gav hears about the fondue fest and wants some. Two hours, two punnets of strawberries and a bag of grapes later, the candle flame is blown out, and I’m on the floor with a fondue fork in one hand, drips of chocolate on my PJs and drooling chocolate…

I've booked myself into rehab for indefinite period of time. On the road to recovery, thanks for asking. One thing for sure, Easter will be a quiet one for me this year...

But I Think The Knife Was...

2006-03-25T08:35:00.000+10:30

It had to be. A second's daydreaming and blood was all over the vegies. The body can't live without the mind. Ok Morpheus. You can give it a rest now.

I see the flesh on my finger opened like a can of baked beans, now spilling tomato sauce without end. Band-aids come alive and play hide n' seek. The ironies of the Matrix. How did machines ever figure out how to create irony? Alright alright! I'm leaving...

My mind blinks flashes of first aid course leaflets I threw over my head into the recycle bin, of flicking to sci-fi movies instead of watching ER or Grey's Anatomy, as I picked the bloodsoaked cotton out of my wound left behind from the band-aid I did finally find. No different to a primitive ape picking lice from its own head. That’s all I know! Band-aids are fix-alls! Ok. Phone call. I’m entitled to my phone call.

Half an hour later, I hear the sirens. Mmm…ice-cream…yum…whuh? Oh, hang on – it’s my first-aider at the door. Honey to the rescue!

Another half hour of dramas & she has a neat dressing on her wound. She’s all smiles again. Next time, Joni…I’ll get you next time…signing out for now, Morphie.

"There Is No Spoon"

2006-03-24T15:37:00.000+10:30

I love believing in an ultra-alternative theory about human existence and their real purpose of being. That’s why The Matrix really works for me. Watching it for the first time whilst living in Japan was a cool experience that warped my already mysterious surroundings, where I’d roam the busy little streets, a quiet and anonymous figure, and ask, “Do you think that’s Zarusoba you’re eating?”…”Do you think that wall is really there?”

These questions joined the queue of other stirring questions I’d had since I was a child, and try as I did over the past 20 years to get others to empathise with me on ‘why my mind is my mind and every morning I wake up I’m still me, and I have no choice but to be me, and have to live this same life everyday within this same body’, it was merely silenced by weird looks and shrugs. This is not to say I don’t want to be me, cos’ I kinda like it most of the time, but it’s the why question, and more curiously, why not. The Matrix was my first taste of empathy, though answers and my theories were never going to be any closer to materialising. I will choose to ignore the ghetto street clubbing scene that resemble a HipHop MTV in the Reloaded sequel, but it’s the theory and their relentless fight against the matrix that inspires me to not quit my search.

At this moment you must be thinking, Right. They should really consider revising the movie viewers’ code to 'Not Suitable for Schizophrenics'.

Just my thoughts, hey.
p.s. Watched it again last night, and it was so cool! And here I go again *looking suspiciously around me*: “Do you think the laptop in front of you is real?”, “Do you think…”

Apartment as at Today

2006-03-14T19:20:00.000+10:30

The next vision materialises. The bedroom - contemporary. minimal. inviting calmness & rest.

Latest & Unfinished

2006-02-26T03:30:00.000+10:30

'Twas the day before my birthday, and was having one of those 'oh gosh time's running out i wanna do all these things while i'm still 24' or 'wouldn't it be somethin' to say i did this from age 24 to 25' moods, so i took the spare piece of blank canvas (15" x 30") and started painting. This is a W-I-P, but it's showing up... here it is before I make a fatal paintstroke...

Feddish for Good Food & Good Company...

2006-02-25T23:21:00.000+10:30

The Invitation:

Thank you so much Linda, Sandra, Charmaine, Chien, CC, Rich, Elen & Johnny (& Gav) for celebrating my birthday with me! Hope you enjoyed the entrees and the mains cos' I sure did! Mmmm...how about that Peking Duck Risotto! Oo La La...;)

And for all the gorgeous presents too! Love 'em love 'em!

Lin, San, CC & Rich: I'm only just starting to pay more attention to sleepwear so it's perfect! So cute too! Will sleep and think of all four of you...;P

Chien: Impeccable taste, as usual. Gorgeous mix of colours - can't wait to wear them!

Elen & Johnny: Perfect for the new place! And smells divine too...thank you! ^_^ I've already put it in the bedroom...;P

Charmaine: You have NO idea how much care my nails need...(it's quite an embarrassment, actually)...here's to gorgeous nails from now on! thank you!

ALSO

Serena: Pink. How did you guess? ;P Love it! Thanks heaps, sweety! p.s. Munching on the cookies now as i write this...

Ange: I opened it and thought: 'This girl read my mind!' How did you know I'd been wanting a fondue set!? I've been procrastinating for so long, but voila! You've gotten it for me. Thank you!! Guess what we're having at girls' night!??

SMS/Email/Phone Birthday Greetings!

Thank you so much to all the lovely, thoughtful people in my life....

Mark Lim, Mark Chin, Ivy, Sean, Siew Yen, Sher Li, Sher Ai, David Chan, Shao Mei, James, Belinda, Sher Wi, Lin Lee, Charleston, Aunty Ching, Dad/Mum

So ends the era of Under-24s. It's been one day since I turned 25 and the Earth doesn't seem to want to swallow me up yet. Guess there's hope still! Looking forward the bigger, grander things, to blue skies and more mango smoothies, to blissful love and cool plans, and especially, happy happy days. Here's to the mid-20s!

The End of an Era - Part II

2006-02-24T14:20:00.000+10:30

Then, whilst I was still in a deep state of brooding and this time causing a real headache unto myself, I received a phone call from Reception at 2pm. Hey Joni, there's a delivery here for you!

Gee, someone's in a nice and chirpy mood! Must be the Brisbane office. Did i leave something behind? Wonder what it is...

And what should I find waiting at the Reception but the most gorgeous, spirit-uplifting, bouquet of long-stemmed roses from my darling mr. roo. with the message...

Oh, but they were so beautiful...

At a time I really needed a little niceness, just a little something special that acknowledges 'yes, it's my birthday today', mr. roo came through for me & took my tears away. It wasn't that I needed 2-dozen roses to make things better (though it certainly helps!) but i was spiralling into an unexplainable sadness, and with impeccable timing, his hands reached out and pulled me back up. The day could only get better...^_^

Back at home that night, I was still smiling....

The End of an Era - Part I

2006-02-24T14:19:00.000+10:30

In recent years, the days leading up to this date have been filled with an excitement that blurs really into more pravalent moments of anxiety, nostalgia, doubt and denial.

Am i old? No, not really. Have i done enough? Done heaps from last year to this year. Am I afraid? Hmm...perhaps. But what of?

I couldn't say. I just get so progressively glum and grey that when the day finally arrives, it has escalated into sudden bursts of tears. This day is mine and if no other day can be special, can't I just have one day that is?

I took it pretty bad this year. This year more than any other. I was silently brooding, weaving a net of negativity to blanket over me to keep me safe and sad. I was beyond comfort and common sense.

Put simply, I was just not ready to turn 25.

Usually, having to go to work on your birthday is the fly that kamikazes into your freshly whipped chocolate mix. On my 23rd birthday whilst still in Japan, I took the morning off work, and woke up slowly. Went to a cafe for a breakfast sandwich and hot chocolate, took photos of my food (birthday food), took photos of myself (birthday face), then went into work. For some strange reason, it turned out well! But I never did it again for both my 24th and 25th birthday. Big mistake.

Everytime I saw or wrote today's date, tears would well up in my eyes. I was balancing on a shaky, emotional wire and failing quickly. Read an email. cry. Answer a phonecall. cry.

They already take every single day of my life from me, why should they take my birthday as well!? Then it hits me. Why did you let them? I was perhaps more upset with myself than with other people, for not making my own day special for myself. Heck, I'm here already. What excuse can you make for yourself? Plus it's a Friday, who wouldn't be in a 'I have a headache, I have to leave early' mood?

Some birthday this is turning out to be...

Loving Nights Like These...

2006-02-19T01:58:00.000+10:30

for mr. roo, if you're reading this...

2006-02-14T20:52:00.000+10:30

Perhaps it seems a little ironic that we're virtually inseparable on most days, but on a day like today, we're more than a thousand kilometres apart. I was at an airport by sunrise, at a workshop all day, and it was only at dinner this evening that I am finally reminded of Valentine's Day's customary happenings. Tables for two. Beachfront dining. Romantic strolls along Cronulla Beach. Scrunched up bouquet of pink roses. Light brushing of the cheeks and stealing kisses on the street.

Dear Valentine, although you and I are unable to join the rest of the world in this universal day of love & romance, I have no real reason to sulk. Neither do I feel cheated of this day, nor do I intend to insist on a belated celebration of a greater fold. Out of character, I know!

It's not because i'm jaded. Or cynical. And it's certainly not because i'm so profoundly practical, as i'm sure you already realised.

But it is because, Dear Valentine, you've kept every promise you made to me. My doubts are banished and my fears have been replaced with a content I know only now. Thus, every day with you, quite literally, is already Valentine's Day.

The rest of the world can have their one Day today, as long as I can have you on all other days. Deal?

Love you many, mr. roo....xoxoxo...can't wait to see you tomorrow...

All Girls' Only Chinese New Year Nite

2006-02-07T09:06:00.000+10:30

What's Chinese New Year without Chinese girls? Click the hung-bao for more cute Asianas…^_^ Happy Chinese New Year everyone!

Apartment as at Today

2006-02-04T01:09:00.000+10:30

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." The journey to a clean and ambient apartment begins with the living room. The journey so far:

Look out for photos of the 2nd step! Fingers crossed that'll be soon!

Already February ~ missing you all...

2006-02-03T23:46:00.000+10:30

After an undisclosable amount of shopping in Hong Kong, 600 photos in Cambodia, and many an angpow later, I'm now back in Melbourne. Melbourne? Did I use to live here? Where's mum?

Struggled through two days at work, and Praise the Lord it's finally the weekend. It's almost an unbearable injustice that work doesn't allow you to fully grief the end of your holidays.

I'm still grieving. My mind is elsewhere, and my body rejects its being in Melbourne. I'm doing all the same things I used to do, but nothing feels the same anymore. Or at least, not yet. I'm so homesick that if I let it, it could probably hurt me.

Perhaps one consolation I'm granted is that I now have some things in perspective.

I never want to be too far away from my family and the people I love. Let it be that i'm reciting the greatest cliche in history, but I've strangely never been more certain that I love my family, and love them just the way they are.

For some time now, i had believed that I was an independant and capable individual, whose strength was unbreakable and exclusively created by myself. How foolish could I have been for not realising that, all this time I had in fact co-existed with my family despite being continents apart, my very happiness tied in with theirs, my smile only if they do, and that my strength and will for life was only possible for as long as they were with me.

Miss you all, cherish you forever, and proud to be your daughter, granddaughter, cousin and niece.

'Twas A Kris Kringle Story

2005-12-21T09:44:00.000+10:30

Whatever happened to the simple act of gift-giving? Its apparent that life just isn’t worth a crumb off a piece of toast unless we complicate, and corrupt, distort and destroy the simplest goodwill gestures.

Whoever renamed Kris Kringle to ‘Let’s-rip-other-peoples’-presents-off-them-&-watch-them-sulk’? You know the one? Where everyone picks a number out of a box, seemingly in a normal, orderly way at first, to determine who gets preferential dip at the presents sprawled on the table. Ooo! Look! I got #9! With 21 of us in this office, 12 remaining presents to choose from isn’t so bad! Mmm…shinyyy wrappinggg paperrr…

But as quickly as you can say “Oh gosh, is that pudding flying at me??”, you realise that Christmas time was nothing but an extension of the 360 plus days of workplace competitiveness and pretentiousness and shadow conflict.

Gone are the days where the present you pick unquestionably belongs to you! Now you have to open it in front of everyone and any Kris Kringle-rer after you has the option of either picking a ‘new’ present, or taking yours! Ouch.

It’s baffling. Why is it…of all days in a year, you would pick Christmas time to look someone square in the eyes and rob them of their one, even if only just momentary happiness for the entire work year, as you walk away in slow, triumphant motion with their present in your hand. What point is there in making other people miserable, and secretly hate you for the rest of the year? No more favours! No, I can’t get your printout from the copier even though I’m on the way to your desk. No, I can’t cover for you over lunch. Yes, she talks all day and never gets anything done!

It just isn’t worth it. It just turns people ugly, and in some cases, it makes wise judgement not to amplify it! People will yield to the quality of their own luck, or lack thereof, in picking good or bad presents, but they will not accept anyone else playing God, or assuming the role of Karma. Aren’t we just built that way?

Out of all the mugs, chocolate boxes, cookie tins, desk fan, esky, more chocolate, and gift vouchers that were up for grabs, I must say I’m a stressed-out, but generally most happy recipient of a Village Cinemas gift pack with three movie passes. Stressed because naturally, the movie tickets were twice challenged and taken from me, and oh boy, the sooky smile doesn’t quite hide the evil burning eyes. (@_@) Thankfully, by the grace of loopholes in this forsaken method of KK, it somehow ended up back with me. ^_^ Sure this time it worked out, but gimme traditional KKs any day….especially…at Christmas….

This will be my last entry for the year - I’m off overseas from tomorrow afternoon! Yippee! *doin’ a dance, doin’ a dance* Merry Christmas to all of you, and have a safe new year… (p.s. only 10 days left to fulfil 2005’s resolutions too, so get on to it!)

Merry X'mas from mr.roo-dolph & I

Muahhh muahh muahh! xoxoxo…

Ivy's Birthday (& other short stories)

2005-12-12T13:10:00.000+10:30

More hot Sahara Nights @ jonihayashi.multiply.com/photos/album/6

Midnight Arrival

2005-12-11T23:08:00.000+10:30

Moments after checking into Carlton Crest Hotel, Brisbane. 12.15am. Enough said.

Brisbane The Finale: Random Words

2005-12-08T21:31:00.000+10:30

King George Square

(taken with Sony T3)

Breakfast
The first breakfast was fabulous. For someone who's little of a breakfast-person, the buffet breakfast at Carlton Crest was pretty enticing! Of course, it was only wise to start slowly, so I grazed on a light portion of sausages, scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrown, roasted tomato, baked beans and grilled chicken. And when that woke up my digestive juices, I made a beeline to the continental section for toast and fruit and croissants and muffins, and washed it all down with tomato juice and tea. It was fabulous disposing all that food into oneself!

It’s my 5th morning tomorrow, and I’m not sure how I’m going to do this. I’m thinking of calling a “no-show” at breakky time, even though it’s on Uncle AA’s account. It’s weird being staying in a hotel all by yourself – I feel like a snippet of Bob Harris's life in Lost in Translation.

Dinner
Went out to dinner with Mars again on Wednesday night. It’s been insanely hot in Brisbane and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it! Thought sushi would help ease the heat, but for the fact that we were seated right in front of the deep fryer. Brilliant. After dinner, we strolled down Brunswick St and recalled the stretch at the Valley where we were first stalked a couple of weeks ago. This dude followed us, tracing us from behind or from the opposite side of the road. He stopped when we stopped. He looked away when we looked at him. Mars was probably twice his size, so I'm wondering why he picked us. I'm more wondering if Mars would have really bashed him up as he said he would have. (Mars, Mars...so violent!)

The Storms
Brisbane has some of the eeriest lightning displays I have ever seen! I know there are worse ones in the world, but I’m not underneath those so it doesn’t bother me.

The storm came very suddenly this evening. The thick grey clouds from the south loomed above us and headed north faster than the speed of traffic. Took a detour into Indooroopilly Shopping Centre for shelter but still walked around in soggy socks after the swim from car to entrance.

I didn’t realise…
HOW PRETTY…King George Square is.
HOW CLOSE…I am to Roma Parklands, but I’ll leave Brisbane not having time to see it.
HOW MANY…restaurants there are on Albert St. Only tried one for the first time this week.
HOW POOR…I’ve let myself become – my bank account had $11.55 as of today. God please let not payday fall on a weekend…
HOW LITTLE…fashion sense I have lately – thanks to the ‘how poor’ statement above, thanks to my last blog entry, and finally thanks to Uncle AA whose manufacturing- fashion sense revolves safety googles, hi-vest jackets and rock-hard rubber soled shoes.

Gosh...I really need to snap out of this....2 more weeks to my holiday...oh how i REALLY need it!

Goodnight...

Living on the Boulevard

2005-12-01T14:30:00.000+10:30

There hasn’t been a morning yet where I didn’t wake up marvelling at the first thing I saw. I have to confess - I love the view! Love it!

Albert Park Lake. The still reflections of trees on the water. The bay beyond it blending into the sky on the horizon. The Spirit of Tasmania sailing by most mornings. I can see the masts of docked boats swaying in the wind. The street below, cars and city workers, rowers on the lake and joggers around it – busy, yet none of its noise detectable from my bedroom window on the 9th floor. It’s a live landscape canvas, and I couldn’t be more excited to be a part of it!

This is my 4th morning at my new apartment, and I’m still pinching myself in case none of this is real. I’m of course well aware that this is not a designer penthouse, nor a luxury mansion, nor are the furnishings antique, state-of-the-art or priceless. But I know this space that I now call home, is all my own.

I didn’t think I’d be so happy to be chin-high in debt. I also didn’t think that I could be so willing to sign away every last cent of my savings from working in Japan for the deposit. (I closed my bank account with change that jingles in my pocket. I think it was $0.75.) I didn’t think I could be so content wearing my old wardrobe, mending my shoes, making my own lunches and putting that gorgeous dress back on the racks, but I come home every day and I know why I do it. I wake up to the view every morning, and I can’t remember why it’s even a question.

R/E Agents, Feel My Wrath...

2005-11-20T01:56:00.000+10:30

The following is a letter I'm sending to Consumer Affairs Victoria, as well as to my real estate agent as part of the notice I'm serving them for their breach of duty. It's extremely thorough & clinical, and I would recommend that you didn't read it unless you've read all the other blogs in the world, or perhaps you wanna see if your rights may have been infringed in a similar way.

The plain incompetence of the real estate agency I am unfortunately attached to until the end of my tenancy lease in December, is monumentally baffling. Thank GOD I'm moving into my own place soon!

Click at own will:
http://jonihayashi.multiply.com/journal/item/1

Crashing into the Weekend

2005-11-18T19:52:00.000+10:30

Oh gosh.

What a week.

As my homecoming countdown glides carefreely to 6 days, I’m inversely increasing time spent at work, turbo-charging concentration levels, and recruiting an inner-motivational captain who can give me that gentle nudge I need: “KEEP GOING!! Hup, two, three, four...Slaughter that project!...Kill it good!... What's this!? You want a tea-break? A TEA-BREAK!!? Ooo... prissy Joni wants a teeee-break... would you like a slice of cheesecake with that? GET BACK TO WORK!!"

So I do. And when I get home, I'm too tired to eat. Missed dinner the past three nights. Too much excess adrenalin to wind down. Can't sleep. Wake up bleary-eyed the next morning, an hour and a half earlier than I usually do, and without time to compose myself, or ponder over life questions, or watch the morning cartoons, the Captain's already standing by the door ushering me out.

Yesterday after completing the last word on the executive summary to my 18-page project report, I organised an official meeting with product managers this afternoon, and presented my blood in a wooden bowl carved with my bare hands. I mean... the results of my work over this three-month period. The entire report and presentation was my own initiation, because the Captain says: "Bowl them over and earn your ticket, and right, to go home".

Relieved to say the presentation and report were well-received, and I've earned two weeks in Melbourne! Yatta!! I did, however, against all personal logic and reasoning, recommend myself to return to Brisbane for one more week after that to absolutely finalise everything, and to farewell my baby, the project with which I've had a love-hate relationship. Ironically I'm already feeling attached to it, but no worries, i'll be slapped out of it easy when I remind myself of days like these.

Said i'll never talk about work. I lied.

...And She Kept On Painting

2005-11-14T20:00:00.000+10:30

Here it is. The full and short version of my Sunday.

Painting. On the balcony. Sunny arvo.

Maybe years from now, they'll be saying, "wow, it's a Joni", but for now, I doubt I'll be quitting my dayjob anytime soon. ^_^

*practice practice practice!*

A Salad Kinda Life

2005-11-13T22:37:00.000+10:30

A salad's pretty boring. A cold dish. Then again, it's a varied dish - vegetables tossed with other assorted ingredients. Served with dressing, even! So i guess you could say it's quite...fanciful.

I'd like to call upon this moment of my life as being a bit of a salad. I can't decide which side of the bowl i want to eat from.

On one hand, i'm so totally over Brisbane. I spent all weekend at home, short of doing some grocery shopping. It's my alternate weekly turn to cook for Mars this Tuesday, and he requests Malaysian food! In a city of chips, burgers and chips, it's virtually impossible to find anchovies, banana leaf and pickles for a nasi lemak. Oh well, he's Greek - what'll he know!? I'll be none the wiser when i ask for Grecian food next week!

Spent the rest of the weekend painting. My 2nd canvas is done - still amateur-ish, but I like it.

There's nothing else here. I'm bored and uninspired. I'm a cold salad.

*flip the bowl round to the other side*

Zoom out, and suddenly I can't keep up!

Two weekends ago, Gav visited, and turned Brisbane into a state-sized theme park! Queensland was marvellous, for the first time! Life was a holiday, everything was made of chocolate, chips were not fattening.

Last week, I was back in Melbourne for the weekend, courtesy of the company, and pretty much jumped from a plane into a club. Partied. Woke up the next day for a wedding ceremony and gorgeous reception, danced by candlelight and music, and fell in love all over again. Then it was back to Brisbane, grumpy.

In twelve days' time, I officially pick up the keys to my new apartment in Melbourne, and at every thought of this fact I'm spilling over with inexplicable excitement!

In less than four weeks after that, I'll be saying 'shove it all!', and flying off to Malaysia, Hong Kong and Cambodia for 40 days!

But meanwhile, I'm just a salad. I can see both sides, but just can't decide which side of the bowl i want to eat from. Bah humbug.

Losing the Heat in Noosa!

2005-11-02T21:00:00.000+10:30

Nothing better than Boost's Watermelon Crush to combat a toasty 30+º afternoon in Noosa.

The next thing's clothes off, bathers on, sunscreen loaded, and catching the mild waves and scooping buckets of sand out of your undies.

Gotta Love Noosa!

^_^..."me too! me
too!" Such a sweetie, ne? ... xoxo

More photos now ready for viewing at http://jonihayashi.multiply.com

Joni Moves to New Zealand

2005-10-26T23:33:00.000+09:30

Hmmm...that doesn't sound right, does it?

I knew today wasn't going to be your ordinary mid-week workday. I just knew it! When I decided to go into work 45 minutes earlier than usual, oh boy, I should have known I was in for trouble. Call it messing with the intricate subliminal invisible forces of balance of the Earth's energies in the natural course of bla bla bla bla...

So how it happens is, H.R calls and asks if i'd consider relocating to New Zealand for a permanent role in Finance. They want you!?

Funny I always thought those words would sound a lot better. Like having them sung in a Michael Bublé song. Or with champagnes popping. Or like hearing my winning name at the Oscars.

After all your toiling days at school and at work, to believe words like that would just make your career, and to finally hear those words that you thought would be the most magical words to ever tease your ears, and then realise they really weren't all the candyfloss and fairycakes you imagined them to be.

You want fame. You want fortune. Anything less is for unambitious fools!! You want glory. But silly girl, you're in love...and the world simply couldn't make you an offer good enough if it couldn't give you that...

Ah, but the Pleasures of Housekeeping!

2005-10-24T19:39:00.000+09:30

Miracles happen on Mondays. Has anyone noticed? I could have sworn I had three plates, one saucepan, two glasses, a couple of forks, and a frying pan in this sink this morning. Come to think of it, make that three glasses - I washed down some juice on my way out the door.

And if i think really hard, I'm pretty sure I sculpted Ayers Rock from my bedsheets as I rolled out of bed today. The bathroom was in a state to be desired, and I wrote a mental note to myself to take the juice and milk cartons to the recycling bin downstairs. Must remember not to scrunch up the note and recycle it with everything else! Gosh, speaking of the trash, it really needs to be taken out. Yup, this apartment is leased to one tenant only. New colonies will require pre-approval.

Anyhow, true to its title of Miracle Mondays, I come home from work, and behold! A most profound sight!

Everything in the sink found its way into the steamy dishwasher. They're dry and ready to be reused. And spotless. The kitchen - good to go! Cartons - disappeared! Incredible!

The bedroom: Fluffed pillows. Check. Clean and pressed sheets. Check. Fresh towels on the side of the bed. Check.

Next stop: Bathroom. Dandy!

I mean, call yourself a sceptic, but Mondays have made me a believer! Never underestimate the good karma of taking the old lady across the street. God IS watching, and rewards you in the most unexpected ways...

Heart on Canvas

2005-10-23T21:46:00.000+09:30

"The canvas. Why do I look at it? Every minute - I steal a glance, then turn away. Am I ashamed? It's nothing spectacular, but i take another peek anyway. It's the faceless girl with the red hat and red dress. It's the way she's sitting, knees together and feet apart, relaxed and sure, that reminds me of something familiar. Something familiar, or something I desire? Her figure. Her curly long black tresses thrown to the wind. The dog she's patting. The iron-cast table on which her elbow leans and her fingers in the air. The purple building behind her with the black-rimmed windows and creeping greens that stream over the window sills. An archway that leads...to an indeterminate place."

Was it a random thought that manifested onto canvas? Look again. Look carefully.

As my eyes catch the worthless painting again, my subconscious unravels its secrets. The girl with the perfect body. Dark voluminous curls. The things I desire of myself. The street scene. The buildings behind her. I'd like to think it represents Europe, or at least a warped version. The windows especially, one opened. That's my room. This is somewhere I'd like to be, at least once in my life. To wake up to the dancing aromas of brewing fresh coffee from the little cafe downstairs. My alarm the sounds of a fiddler playing to the passer-bys. It's Sunday morning, and the streets are alive. Downstairs. From where I live. In the purple building. The dog. The scruffy friend I've never had but have so longed for. Sassafras. A scruffy sounding name for a scruffy dog I'm yet to have.

I started painting yesterday afternoon after yet another unfulfilling trip to yet another monstrous shopping centre filled with shameless excuses for consumerism. The lack of mental stimulation ate me up whole and spat me out in frustrated pieces. In the end, it was one of my simplest childhood delights that brought peace back to me, a kind that only art can provide. Here's hoping my first affair with the canvas with be an exciting, but lasting one.

And may dreams come true....

Butterfingers Meets Wolf

2005-10-22T23:32:00.000+09:30

There is little I fear about travelling and being alone. I'm no stranger to my own company, nor to foreign streets and neighbourhoods. In fact, most of the time, I'm simply skipping along through the woods like the freckle-faced girl in a red velvet hood on her way to see her grandma. That is until she meets the big bad wolf.

In this case, my proverbial big bad wolf wasn't actually all that big. Or bad. I did nevertheless lose a few freckles from our meeting at the basement carpark last Friday evening, and the one handshake that was extended to me, I wish now that I hadn't accepted.

The basement of my building serves not only as a carpark, but has a few storage and workrooms/sheds for its residents. I have the luxury of parking pretty close to the entrance of the lifts, but of late, I've been coming home from work to find an old man working in his shed almost directly behind my parking space. I hate that he insists on talking to me every single time we cross paths, but figuring he was an owner-occupant in this building and merely wanted to get to know the neighbours, I reluctantly obliged. By the 2nd meeting, I realised he was more than friendly. He was senile.

On Friday, i came home as usual. I noticed the shed opened, but instead of the old man, there was a younger man, standing outside my car waiting for me to come out. I stalled as long as I could, but if only I had brains larger than a fairytale girl's at the time, I would have panicked sooner, realised that I needn't put up with this, and driven away. Afterall, there were plenty of visitors' parking spaces outside. But no. I was a fairytale girl in fairyland where all endings are inevitably happy, so I came out of the car with my fairy godmother in tow.

He extended his hand and introduced himself as Paul. He looked normal at first, but his speech tells me he has a mental problem. What kinda place IS this? I introduced myself in a firm, but bright manner as I would greet anyone, and took his hand. He held on and wouldn't let me go. He looked at me with glazed eyes, slouched posture and slurred speech and wouldn't let go of my hand. My heart sank.

Still in semi-fairyland oblivion, I kept surprisingly calm, and finally I yanked my hand out of his grip. Then he says: "Boyfriend? Boyfriend?"

Three thoughts in one second: "Was he speaking to me like that because I was Asian, thus would only understand simple, broken English - kinda like 'taxi? taxi?'", "Is he asking if I had a boyfriend?", or "Is he asking to BE my boyfriend?" - Either way, i don't wanna know what he wants!

Whilst he continued to initiate more questions, I gave him mono-syllable answers as I hurriedly got my things out of the car, but God help me, everything was slipping through my fingers. I was weak with fear physically before the reality reached my head. I couldn't open any door quick enough, keys were finding the floor and wouldn't fit key holes.

I got into my apartment, slapped myself a few times, then exchanged stories with the apartment manager over the phone. According to her, Paul has a mental illness, but is harmless, although he's been specifically instructed to 'stay away from girls'. The old man is his father - an Alzheimer's Disease sufferer. As for me, I get a new carpark space on a different level.

I know now that I should have done things differently, but all I had in my head at that time was that I shouldn't discriminate against people with mental illness. They probably do know that they're different, and treating them as such might only drive them to anger, or perhaps violence. The last thing i wanted to do was upset him. More than anything, I realise how terribly ill-equipped I am of handling such situations. How will I know, if it happens again, whether I'd instinctively protect the other person's feelings, or learn first to protect my own well-being? If there are any girls (or guys) who have been in a similiar situation, I'd really like to hear about how you dealt with it.

Good and safe night to you all.

Oedipus The King

2005-10-17T21:25:00.000+09:30

OEDIPUS THE KING

It's been thousands of days since I washed my hands clean of high school English Literature. Antigone - daughter of Oedipus. Oedipus, the king who killed his father and married his mother. When your memory clearly fails you and everyone's looking at you for signs of intelligence and culture in Sophocles' ancient Greek tragedies, given that tiny mousehole of an opportunity to prove yourself, you say: "Yes, sick man. That Oedipus. Sick man, he was."

As the play unfolded before me on Saturday night in the Playhouse at the Queensland Performing Arts Centre, I began to realise that Oedipus was a freak by no fault of his own, but was doomed long before he was even born, by the Gods' cruel game of sealing a murderous and incentuous fate upon a 'could have been' innocent man.

All of us, my colleagues and I, thoroughly enjoyed the play so much that we vowed to make another night of it. Something else of course - Greek tragedies are so terribly intense, but I must say it has renewed my interest in good quality plays. Front row seats like what we had would be perfect as well, the tickets this time with compliments from David.

A few note-worthy moments:

Lead actor, Marcus Graham, apparently has a permanent, let's call it, deformity on both his little toes such that they both stick out conspicuously. According to Qing and Nicola, that was all they could focus on for the first half hour. They could even work out the bung toes from inside the leather shoes he wore from thereon, or so they say. :)
Jocasta the Queen and wife/mother of Oedipus, so casually says that the mother is every male child's first fantasy, as in, before a man desires any other woman, he first desires his mother. OK, we loved the play and all, but them Greeks had some weirddd ideas, hey??
Oedipus, after witnessing his wife's/mother's suicide proceeds to stab his eyeballs, then throws a colossal tantrum on his back in the city of Thebes, kicking around, screaming and spinning about, a sight to which I suddenly broke into uncontrollable giggles.
The narrator (bear in mind that this was a modern interpretation) sums up the story towards the end, in the most sensible and discreet way, by calling Oedipus the father-killer and the mother... , and she left it there.

Good night to you all...

afantasylife@hellokitty.com: The Japan Diaries

2005-10-16T00:50:00.000+09:30

Tuesday, 28 May 2003

"Hi Mum,

I'm writing to you from school. Don't have anything to do after lunch, and i have 20 minutes before my last class for the day. Yeay!"

"I have my lesson with Toshi tonight. Yesterday i received two requests from new students, so I'm going to meet one on Saturday afternoon, and one on Monday night."

"Monday night one is a student who's going to do Dentistry overseas…the other guy is a businessman - and he's going to the US in a few weeks' time! It's almost as if he wants some kinda crash course!"

"… my turtles are doing fine. I wonder if turtles get bored cos' all they seem to do is constantly burrow through the rocks, like they're trying to dig their way out! They have to put up with earthquakes, train noises, loud music when i come home, and I think the only time they get a GOOD night's sleep is when i sleep as well!"

"…the earthquake from up north yesterday will bring its aftereffects today. I don't know how much of it we will feel down in Tokyo."

"Keanu Reeves is in town!!! Waahhhh....he's in Tokyo promoting his new film Matrix Reloaded. Is that out yet in Melbourne?"

"I can't WAITTT to get my digital camera and Fred! I'm missing out on a lot of good photos without my dig cam."

"Love you both...hugs and muaxxx…Joni"

Fred, my toy monkey since 1989. Never loved any other as i did him. A faithful travelling companion, his time ending at the end of my Japan trip. Still missing you...

Where did I go in JUNE?: Kyoto

Friday, 20 June 2003

"Hey my darling brathaaa!!

It's my last day at Elementary School today. Sighhh...I can't believe one week finished so quickly, and as usual, I get SOOO attached to my kids. (In Junior High, I teach one grade per week, rotating btw Grade 1, 2, and 3, and at the end of each week, I miss the kids of THAT grade as i move to the next - it's an endless cycle!)"

"… gosh, once you enter that class, you can't help but simply fall utterly deeeeppp in love. At the end of the class, the kids just run to you and tap you on the shoulder (or wherever they can reach!! They're just shortiess..kawaiii!!) and they GRAB your hands like they've known you all their lives."

"Today i had 8-9 year olds (3rd grade) ... oh goshhhh... the sweetest babies... with their big, big EYESSS...and plenty of smiles."

"My company recruits A.L.Ts (Assistant language Teachers) for the Board of Education in various cities. They have contracts all over Japan in fact, so if i renewed my contract for next year, i can choose another part of Japan if i wanted."

"We work in public schools, which means we integrate into the Japanese education system…"

"We have normal working hours, weekends off, and on average I have about 4 classes a day. The rest of the time I prepare for my next lesson, or study Japanese, or do whatever I please…"

"We get about 7-8 weeks paid summer vacation...hehhe...boy am I looking forward to that!!"

"So bro, you wanna come??? I think you'll just LOOOVVEEE it, especially if you love children. Ok then...i'm gonna go now...what's been going on? How's exams?? :)"

"Take care now...and great to hear from you..hugs!, Joni"

This email was written to my 'brother', Reza, a special friend whom I found amongst the thorns of fake people. Thank you for shining above the rest.

Thursday, 19 June 2003
"Hi everyone!!

It's an EXTREMELLLLYYYY HOTTT day in Japan!! Totemo atsui, desune!?? I'm one big sweatball walking around."

"… I just spent the last six hours with one hundred and fifty short, smooth-skinned, baby-teeth grinners with super-high energy, and also happen to be 150 of the most adorable, cutest and most LOVABLE little human beings I have EVERRR had the pleasure to be with. Yeaaa...i started Elementary School this week."

“Today, I had second graders (8 yr olds)…I had lunch with them at their desks in the classroom, and they talked and talked and talked in Japanese, trying their hardest to get me to understand them, but most of it i don't.^_^ But does it bother them? Hmmm..nope! They just keep talking and asking and asking and asking."

"… kids are so intuitive and sensitive to everything. They'll come up with all sorts of charades-like body language to get me to understand what they say, and I guess it's the same for me when i'm teaching them. I've become an actor these days - body language in the classroom speaks a universal language!"

"And all they want is a big big smile, and energy to match theirs, and that's what I aim for everytime, regardless of how i'm really feeling...you leave all your own issues outside the door, and you just devote the next 50 mins to each new set of children."

"But seriously, I don't know how to say this, but they're just angels. Japanese children are like ANIME come to life!"

"I have about 20 or 30 little people escorting me EVERYWHERE (to class, to the bathroom, to the teachers room, EVERYWHERE!), and I only have one pair of hands, so it's about three kids to each hand, and the rest would have to hold on to my elbows or my shirt. Children just love to be loved..... sighh...don't we all..."

"Anddd...Kyoto............was absolutely BEAUTIFUL.....so traditional and heaps much better than Tokyo."

"Bye guys! hugss! Miss you all…Love, Joanie"

Where did I go in JULY/AUGUST?: Shizuoka

OUTSIDE JAPAN?: South Korea

Friday, 29 August 2003
“Hi Everyone!!

How are you guys going? It’s been a while since I sent you guys an email. I think my last email was from Seoul, huh? Well, I’ve been pretty busy with stuff (yea, despite the super-long summer holidays, I still find myself “busy with ‘stuff’”)…"

"That’s right! I climbed Mt. Fuji!"

"I got down just yesterday afternoon, and I’m a little sunburnt and super extremo SORE all over! I woke up this morning completely unable to move…But at least I can say ‘Yeayy! JOANIE CONQUERED MT. FUJI – all the way to the 3776m peak!"

"…when a Canadian friend first proposed Mt. Fuji nearly 2 months ago, my mind went: ‘Gee….this person OBVIOUSLY doesn’t know me at all! Joni? Climb a mountain!?? Hah! Joke of the century! He must be mad, but I’ll play along, hey?!’"

"The idea wouldn’t leave my head."

"I knew that I would never forgive myself if I was here living in Japan, but I didn’t at least die trying to climb this infamous mountain."
"The itinerary:

Arrive at starting point, Level 5 of Mt. Fuji.

Climb from 11.30am and arrive at Level 8 by 4.30pm.

Have some dinner, sleep till midnight at the resthouse on Level 8. (Dinner provided plus slave-ship style sleeping arrangements – unique, but adequate.)

From midnight onwards, climb to the peak in darkness, arriving at around 4.30a.m. to catch the sunrise.

Following this, back down again to level 5, then hop onto our bus to take us back to Tokyo."

"The climb from Level 5 to 8 was great…absolutely breath-taking scenery."

“When you find yourself eye-levelled with the clouds and then beyond them as you go higher, that was totally amazing."

"The climb from Level 8 at midnight, however, was a totally different story. In fact, my friend Yoko had to ‘retire’ from the rest of the journey at the resthouse because she was ‘mountain sick’, throwing up and all…So we left her behind."

"By now, I too was nauseated and yearning for oxygen."

"The climb…became dangerous, and you had to be at your wits at all times and did what was necessary to survive. Climbing in near complete darkness, up steep narrow rocky paths, the wind ferocious. As well as freezing temperatures and tiredness, I was taking constant breaths as deep as I could in attempt to regulate my breathing. Nausea was taking over."

"…all you saw looking over the edge was a blanket of fog over complete darkness, and an infinite depth that one can potentially fall into.”

"…had to crawl on our hands and knees to prevent being blown over the edge by sudden strong winds. I didn’t want to be there anymore. It was awful. From Level 8 onwards, I was praying to God."

"The view from the peak was amazing. Unfortunately, the promise of a beautiful sunrise was not fulfilled due to terrible weather."

"And if we thought climbing 9 hours to get to this peak and spending only 30 minutes up there was frustrating enough, the climb down was utterly miserable! My knees screwed up about an hour from the climb downwards because the path was steep and slippery, and was completely covered with running stones. The pressure on the knees was overwhelming...I was in agony…"

"Midori looked after me all the way, and was amazing support."

"Holding the mind together is crucial…there was no one to cry to and the pain was enough to make me give up, but how else was I going to get down but to do it myself."

"About an hour and a half to the base, the guide finally…helped me with knee braces and a walking stick (which eased the pain a little) and that’s how I limped all the way down. It was only when we finally reached Level 5 that it dawned on us…It was done."

"As for my legs and the rest of my body, it’s going to take a few days to recover. I hope my knees will not be an on-going problem. So, there! I’ve done it! And now I can sleep better, knowing that I didn’t chicken out, and that now I have one thing less in life to regret not doing. But I’ll definitely not climb another mountain again – ever! :)"

"Catcha guys soon! Hugs, Joanie"

As it turned out, my knees never fully healed. Doctors have not been able to work it out or do anything for me, and I’ve had to live with crippled knees for the last two years. Prolonged walking hurts me. Slopes bring paranoia. Was it worth it? I guess. At least I lived to tell the story.

Where did I go in SEPTEMBER?: Osaka, Kobe & Nara

Where did I go in OCTOBER?: Hiroshima & Miyajima

Where did I go in DECEMBER?: Nikko

OUTSIDE JAPAN?: Hong Kong & China

Sunday, 28 December 2003
“Hey everyone!

Are the Christmas carols still ringing in your heads?? They are, for me! I’m singing them everywhere I go, and…if it doesn’t drive me nuts, it’s actually kinda…nice… “doo doo-doo-doooo…walking in a winter wonderland-d-d-d..” By the way, Merry Christmas to all of you! Sorry I couldn’t send out greetings earlier – have been away. Here’s da latest update!"

"Well, it’s been two days since I got back from a 2-week trip to Hong Kong/China. And guess what? The first morning back in Japan, I drew open my curtains and saw SNOW blanketing the street, the trees, the cars, and the roofs of houses! It was SOOooo beautiful I was leaping with excitement!"

"Anyway, it didn’t snow last night, but the previous day’s snow hadn’t all melted away – which goes to show how cold it is here! BRRRRrrrr – it’s colddd! The winds are icy, and there’s no way I’m leaving my house without a scarf, beanie and gloves. But it’s kinda good cos it means I can go shopping for a nice wARRMMMmm coat – preferably something furry! Yeay! ^_^…hehee…"

"… shopping in HK is absolutely cRAZZZzzzyyyYYY!! I’m telling ya – it can’t be done! It just CAN’T be done! I mean, there’s SOOOOOO much to see – its virtually endless – shops and shops on every street in every district!!"

"I can’t disclose how many times I had to go to the money changer to stretch out my Yen, but….let’s just say…I have to cut out on a lotta other luxuries now that I’m back..."

"And the great thing...was having local friends who really knew how to get around, so I got to see heaps of Hong Kong. I have to admit that initially, I thought HK was just another Asian city – fast-paced, commercial, dynamic and just filled with people rushing madly around! But…then I know now why so many choose to call HK home. Went up to The Peak one night and saw the expansive panoramic HK night skyline…and gosh...i was just in awe."

"Ahh well..that’s that, everyone. This is my little intro to my winter holidays, and the photo presentation will be up soon, so look out for it!"

"Miss you all heaps- thanks to ALL who sent Christmas cards and present (Thanks Rina! Muax!). Wishing all of you an wonderful and safe and exciting new year in 2004! …Let the parties begin!!"

"Hugss, Joanie"

I never saw snow in my city again after that day. But my real winter wonderland experience was in Sapporo, Hokkaido two months later, in February. The monumental snow and ice sculptures at the Annual Snow Festival; sumo-wrestling Abbie at 2a.m. on the way back to our hotel to the horror of Japanese locals; soaking in a natural hot spring with snow-capped mountains and bare trees in the distance and snow all around me. Moments like this...nothing else in this whole world matters...

Where did I go in FEBRUARY '04?: Sapporo, Hokkaido
Where did I go in MARCH '04?: Mito & Komatsu, Kanazawa

Virtual Reality

2005-10-09T20:28:00.000+09:30

Last week I had three friends, all unacquainted, ask the same questions on a topic that continues to be in the centre of my thoughts, each and every day. It was about Japan. It seems nearly two years after my return from a life less ordinary, I still can't get it out of my system. I won't let myself, nor will the people around me. Little do they know I'm grateful, for without their questions, I only have myself to remind of those things that now seem surreal. Leading a conventional life post-Japan requires conformity, acceptance and a good pair of running shoes to stay in this rat race that rewards you with four weeks of annual leave, office politics, and RSI.

Memories. déjà vu? A photo. A smell. A familiar word. A sound.

It doesn't take much to flash me back to that place and that time where I was living in the most advanced virtual reality - one that lasted a year - one that returned me a different person. I've learned, the hard way, to internalise these thoughts until that opportune question is presented to me. There was once a time when I beguiled myself into believing that anyone with a functioning set of ears would suffice as a suitable audience to all my chin-wagging. I was desperately bubbling over with more to say than I had words for. How to get an audience? I tried the photo presentations, the bribery dinners, the long roadtrips with no escape. But in the end, where was the satisfaction that I thought would ensue? My stories fell on many a deaf, disinterested ear. It's ok. You can't impose your life on someone else. You were never meant to verbalise that moment when you sat at the edge of the world, feeling never surer that Heaven had descended on that very place. You have to let it be. You can't define something that won't be defined and cannot be encapsulated by words. Words will simply confine it. Or worse, change it. Let it be. Set it free.

Found some old emails I sent to family & friends whilst I was in Japan. They were just sitting in an old inactive email account, so i've decided to post them up on my blog. If it's not your thing, you've been warned! ^_^ I'll keep them generally in their original form to maintain their authenticity, censoring only certain 'explicit' details. So yup, read at own will.

A Little Angel

2005-10-09T03:22:00.000+09:30

Everytime i see this photograph i can't help but melt away. Mao Yamada. Could he be an angel? The most adorable kind? He's all the cutest pies in the world, all the sweetness bursting in one little package. He was only days old when we were first introduced, and it was love eversince. He's deserving of all my thoughts and presents, and from the regular progress reports I receive from his parents, their lives are simply filled with sheer joy of having him around. Aunty Joni loves you baby, can't wait to see you again in Japan.

Just found another photo baby's otosan sent to me. Isn't he just the most gorgeous thing?? So sweet you could just eat him up...or at least plant a hundred kisses on those juicy cheeks...^^

Where's Wally?

2005-10-09T02:04:00.000+09:30

I've never lived in any other Australian city ever in my life. It was always Melbourne. Over the years, you can't help but grow to take your surroundings for granted. Yea, sure, there was the city and the Yarra running through it, the alley cafes, the clubs; we've rated the best finds from the sushi joints to the chocolate bars, from steakhouses to yumcha in Chinatown, and we know the fastest and smoothest routes to get to anywhere. Desensitised - that's what it was, and not necessarily a bad thing either.

Then I get posted to Brisbane. 3-month project.

What's disorientation? It's half way to Cairns before wondering why the kilometres to Cairns were getting smaller and smaller. Surprise surprise. I was heading towards the Great Barrier Reef and i hadn't even packed my snorkelling gear. Within my first 2 hours, I pulled over for a map check every 73 seconds, threatened to play dodg'em cars with oncoming traffic (thanks to the ingeniously designed one-way streets), and covered as many suburbs as half a tank of petrol would cover before arriving at the apartments.

On the upside, the riverside serviced abode was/is a 2 queen-sized bedroom, ensuite, walk-in robe, living, dining, study, laundry, double TV, and balcony that captures the view of the Brisbane river and city lights. Downstairs - swimming pool, gym, sauna, mini-golf and tennis courts.

I dropped my bags and cried most nights on the first week, and then pulled myself together. Homesick.

After a couple of weeks, i was back in Melbourne with a renewed appreciation. I was home! Bring on the speeding road ragers, the forsaken weather, the icky roadsides and my tiny, ant-filled apartment. Yatta! It was home and i was there... ^_^

Anyhow, i'm back in Brizzy again til the end of November. I can't explain it, but i'm doing heaps better. No more tears. Went exploring last night - the night markets at Southbank Parklands were so super groovy I can't wait to show Gav when he gets here...

Fish have only a 3-second memory...

2005-10-08T23:00:00.000+09:30

I've been reading alot of blogs lately. Known ones. Random ones. It's because I have heaps of unallocated time to do all the things i would do if i could just gather a scrap of motivation. You can only look out from your apartment balcony at the BrisVegas city skyline for so long, and after that, when it's too late to be out alone and too early to call it a night, you get this nudging idea about starting a blog too.

So yes, i've read blogs, known and random, and enjoyed some more than others, and totally respect everybody's need for expression and their unique styles of doing so. I think the variety is great. So here's my deal.

I don't wanna talk about what I had for lunch today, what time I woke up, and especially not what I did at work. Nor do I wanna share my deepest darkest secrets because they'll be deep and dark no longer if they're at the access of an infinite number of people. Could you really replace close proximity interaction when it's story-telling time?? I don't think so. I'd rather my closest friends know that I trust them each individually & enough to share certain 'naughty' things with them (^. .^) over rounds of English Breakfast tea, in a dimly-lit room, tealight candles, and jazz in the distance, and best of all with my every facial gesture and charade-like body language as I tell it. Oh, that and it's fun too!

Having said all the things i didn't want for this blog, i haven't really given much thought to how i'd like it to be. I just wanna write things down. I just wanna pen some thoughts somewhere. Heck, it's possible that I'll be tempted to vent, and spread a gossip and poke fun and self-glorify (or self-loathe at odd times), but golly, who knows!? I haven't even started yet! It might be an interesting tune-in, or it might not be, but you know I can't satisfy everyone anyway, so I guess I'll just focus on the person writing the blog - it's my blog - my journey, I call the shots, hey?