Happy Year of the Dog!

Mr Sausage Man says: "Do you want an ang pow with that, my dears?"

D Day!!!

Note to self: Never buy cotton shirts.

Don't be taken in by attractive price tags, pretty designs, or take having to use up that cash voucher and run off for lunch before you faint of hunger as an excuse to give in to that moment of weakness.

Please please please, Mr Instructor Sir, please don't notice the awful creases on my spanking new shirt. Not on my first day! I ironed it for ages, honest, I swear!

Into the wind.

Just past midnight, and Chye was sending me home. We had just watched Election on vcd at his place, and it was, in all, a nicely quiet day spent with each other. As usual, I was off in my own world, enjoying the wind in my face and allowing random thoughts to just flash into my mind when suddenly, Chye alerted me to a blockage on the road.

"What’s that?" He asks, raising his voice to be heard.

I shifted my gaze from the left to the right of his body, and there, in front of us, was a civil defence vehicle and an ambulance, taking up the middle lane of the road. That could mean only one thing – an accident had taken place.

As our bike approached the site of the crash, I saw the civil defence officers gathered round a blue car, stretcher at the ready. The car had stopped awkwardly outside of its lane, on the left side of the rear of a large goods-carrying van, the kind with the raised metal container that allowed the wheels to be completely exposed. I was half-afraid, half-attracted to the scene that lay ahead of me. What would I see? How many people were there? Were they injured? How seriously? Was there a lot of blood? Any severed limbs? Could I stomach that? Should I even look?

The car ahead of us slowed down to take a look at what happened. Human nature, almost, to be drawn to accidents, scenes-of-crimes, and other venues that provide gruesome pictures for all to see. We are at once attracted to and repelled by them, transfixed in a mixture of curiosity, horror, awe.

Still, the actions of the driver ahead of us, besides causing Chye to have to brake defensively in order to prevent another mishap from taking place, also gave me the chance to glance at the wreckage as we passed it by. The windscreen at the driver’s side of the vehicle was badly smashed, and, from the looks of it, the driver was pinned to his seat. At that point in time I couldn’t help but think – would he survive? Could he survive? It was an awful sight, but somehow, I couldn’t tear my eyes away – like I was sucked in unwittingly, hypnotised by something so terrible, it was impossible to fathom how it’d be like if the same fate were to befall me, yet all the same, did not change the simple fact that it could – until it wasn’t possible for me to turn my head backwards anymore.

And, just like that, I was whisked away. In a matter of seconds, that scene, as much as it took me by the shoulders and shook me, disappeared from my line of sight. Just like how, in a matter of seconds, one could be robbed of one's life. Just like that.

Down that last stretch of road before we'd reach my place, my one hand gently felt at the flesh on my thigh, as if to seek physical affirmation of how utterly human and mortal it was, while the other continued to clasp itself snugly round Chye’s reassuringly corporeal waist.

The Eternal Struggle

The sign was there: that article in Sunday's Straits Times sounding the alarm bell on pigging out during the holiday season (stored fat in your body can do worse than that: they can grow new fat cells).

The motivation was there: seeing an acquaintance of mine with toned abs and thinking to myself - I want that! I can do that! Dammit.

The encouraging/goading was there:

Me: Oh mah gawd my tummy is so fat and ugly!
The Boyfriend: (Laughingly, but in a carefully suggestive voice) Maybe it's time you started to exercise.

(On another occasion)
The Boyfriend: (Spies my rotund and grotesque abdominal region.) Ermmmmm.... maybe it time for you to start exercising, huh?
Me: (Visibly embarrassed at being found out) Heh. Yeah. (Mind changes track.) Maybe next week!

(And another occasion)
Me: (Rubbing The Boyfriend's stomach. A teasing smile.) Has your tummy grown smaller?
The Boyfriend: (Puffing up in half-mock pride) Yup! The running has made a difference. You should start exercising too! It really helps, know?

So, yes. This year, though I never was one to make New Year's Resolutions, I am resolved to exercise more.

I set my alarm for 9a.m., even though I wasn't in bed til 2+a.m., maybe 3 (I thought I could exercise first, sleep later). And wadayaknow? I woke up at 10. After washing up and breakfast, that would easily set me back at least an hour and a half. But I was still determined to go for that run I promised myself. The weather was cooperating too, the sky being overcast and the air cool. But wadayaknow? I was still at home at 12. And by then the heretofore bashful sun had started to come out from its shell. At that point, I admitted that I contemplated throwing my plan aside (after all, I'd done that countless times before) and just slack my day away. Still, in the end I decided to put on my running gear - ugh, that reminds me, they're still soaking in the toilet - and go for that all-important first run that would set the tone (here's to hoping) for the rest of the year.

Phlegm-invaded throat? Run.
No other loser on the track on a public holiday but me? Run.
This guy, seemingly poised for a day down at the street soccer court himself, turning and uttering "Fwah." in disbelief as he walked past me while I was doing my warm-ups? Run.

And I'm glad I did.



Happy New Year to one and to all!