I find it extremely annoying when my mobile phone rings and the caller is only identified by "Private Number". For the record, my boss has also changed his phone number to the same mode but I guess I'm used to it already. After all, my boss has good reasons not to disclose his number and he would always introduce himself after the initial 'hello'.
Today, as I was grappling with a written submission that's due to be filed this coming Monday, a call came in and all I know of the caller's identity is merely 'Private Number'. Thinking it was my boss, I dropped whatever I was working on, used my right hand to grab a pen and used my left hand to pick up the phone receiver.
I said 'hello' and instead of being informed of who exactly I was speaking to, the caller immediately launched into a one-sided conversation. With my mind still engrossed with work, it didn't take much for me to be irritated. Ignoring whatever the caller has been saying for the past minute, I only said 'Who is this?'. My voice must have come across harsher than expected as the caller suddenly became silent. After a slight pause, the caller introduced herself and she turned out to be my cousin. Anyway, she requested for a relative's phone number and after giving it to her, that was the end of our conversation.
To me, it's fine if you don't want your number to be listed. Yet, it is only fair that you cannot expect people to know who you are if your number comes up as 'Private Number' and it's not followed by a quick introduction. As it is, the fact that my mobile phone shows 'Private Number ' has already denied me the right to vet my calls. Alternatively, I could choose not to pick up the call because I wouldn't know who it is from and this action may include calls from relatives with 'Private Number'. If that happens, then you definitely do not have the right to be angry if your call is suddenly directed to the voice mail box.
It's Friday night and here I am ranting away about 'Private Number'. Perhaps it is because I've had a long day at work and Saturday only means yet another day in office. Hope I'm going to have a good weekend or my next entry will just be another rant!
Dad and his siblings called her 'Che'. Well, her name is Che Puteh Asmah and perhaps she was not used to the idea of being called by any other name. According to my parents, even her grandkids would have called her 'Che' but in the end (and to avoid us from being seen as bloody rude kids), the adults thought it was better if the grandkids called their grandmother something else.
So that was how 'Nanny' became what she was. Personally, I thought the term 'Nanny' was in reference to her being around and taking care of her grandchildren. Mom however, said it's a variation of 'Granny' and one that would not have made the grand old dame feeling old.
This space was originally meant for a picture of Dad as an infant with Nanny. However, Dad has requested me to remove it due to its...err, inappropriateness.
Nanny with her mother and Dad's two elder brothers
To me, Nanny was certainly a force to be reckoned with. Even in her twilight years, she would be quick to engage people in conversations, make those sudden quips and verbally shoots the unsuspecting party that crosses her path. On the good days, she would be (if I remember correctly) that doting grandmother with a joke to share. On those not so good days, her temper will get the better of her and woe betide anyone that treads on her thinning patience. But from what I could remember of her, she was the one whose shoulder I rested my head on when we went travelling long distance by car. She was the one who bears the faint whiff of talcum powder whenever she goes. She was also the one who was ever so concerned when I was down with fever at age 10.
Dad on so many occasions, shared stories of his childhood with Nanny. To this day, I will always find it amusing that Nanny invented the word 'homosakula' when in actual fact, she was trying to explain the word 'homosexual' to her kids. There was also another story on how Nanny visited Dad and my uncle who were studying in UK at that time. It was her first overseas trip and while the sons were fretting with worry in the arrival lounge, Nanny took her own sweet time before finally making an appearance. Mom also once recounted that during the early days of Mom's marriage to Dad, Mom's relatives would be afraid to approach Nanny for fear of the comments that would eventually leave Nanny's mouth. There were many other (fun, zany and downright unbelievable) stories about Nanny but let me just say some memories are best kept within the family circle for us to cherish.
As I'm older now, I too realised that perhaps my siblings and I have inherited more of Nanny's traits than we realized. Thanks to her being born a Chinese, all of us now bear varying degrees of Chinese features. If one observes Dad's family members, one could be forgiven for thinking that it's the typical Chinese family without any inkling of our Malay ancestry as well. Most of us are, like Nanny, rather reserved but quick to trade barbs when the mood strikes. If at all, we're the living testaments that while Nanny may no longer be with us, she's still in us.
Nanny with her husband and kids. According to Dad, this would have been the only complete family picture ever taken. They were holidaying in Penang back then.
Although Nanny passed away today 15 years ago, I felt as if it was only yesterday. I was only 12 years old when she died, too young to realise what it meant to have a grandmother (my maternal grandmother passed away even before I was born). Now, I could only look at old photos of her and reminisce about the snippets of memories shared with my Nanny whenever I see other people with their grandmothers. The 12 years I shared with her were far too short.
Lest anyone thinks Nanny had an easy life, let me confirm otherwise. She had her fair share of pain and sufferings but I think she overcame those with sheer tenacity that I could only expect from Nanny. Her end unfortunately came too soon with the onslaught of Alzheimer and Parkinson, reducing her to a shadow of what she had been earlier in life. But to the end, I'm proud that I've had the privilege of being her granddaughter. I could only hope that she's equally proud of my siblings and I.
Nanny was Nanny, no one could replace her. Not then, not 15 years later, not ever.
Dad has been asking me on what my next blog entry is going to be. Mom never asks although I know she's one of my few (silent) readers.
I do not know the answer myself. I know the blog is mine to be turned into a long version of 'twitter' or an online diary where every mundane event will be recorded (so that every one else will know exactly how mundane my life has been and will probably be for the next 20 years or so). It could also be an avenue where I'm the shrink as well as the patient without any fees being involved. I write about my problems and then, write about the solutions which I think may solve the problems. But then again, I'm perpetually apprehensive of friends who read my blog and yet leave nothing behind or indicate that they've been reading my rants and grouses. Worst is the feeling that some stranger in a distant location may now know some secrets of mine (if there are any in the first place) by accident. I've to say I'm now toying with the idea of putting the 'privacy' mode onto this blog so that whatever that I write will truly be mine alone.
At times, I would listen to the radio while driving and am often drawn to the interesting topics that were being discussed. Then, there were also moments when I'm working in my office or in Court when I found myself thinking "Aah...this is something that I have to blog about when I have the time". Naturally, that 'time' rarely comes. And when I finally have the chance to write what I wanted to write, the topic is for want of a better term, outdated. What could have been expressed in the present term often becomes a story of the past.
I wanted to write about an issue which I've jotted down notes in my notebook. But incoherent rambling takes precedence and I'm left to wonder why.
p/s: I know the entry doesn't make sense. Just to let you know I'm still around. Aren't you glad?
I watched Charlie St. Cloud ("Charlie") last week with Akmar.
Gosh, to think that I'm writing about something which happened last week on a day which almost marks the end of this week. But it could have been worse in the sense that I could choose not to write about it at all. So count your blessings, haha.
Honestly, I was not even contemplating to watch Charlie. In fact, I only got to know about it because there was the movie signboard advertisement that I have to pass by before I enter the Federal Highway on my way to work. However, seeing that it was a last-minute arrangement on a Friday night (thanks to my sudden crave to watch another movie barely two nights after having watched Step Up 3) and that Eat Pray Love was totally full (well, an available first row seating is not that appealing especially since my upcoming weekend will be marred by a stiff neck), Charlie was the next best thing.
Perhaps it was better for me that I entered the cinema hall with no high expectations for Charlie. I've been forewarned by others that the movie is nothing more than a bucket of tears based on them having watched the making of Charlie. And the lead actor, though others rated him as good looking, is not exactly one of my favourite leading men. With those factors in mind, all I wanted from Charlie was just enough entertainment to end a Friday night. In the end, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised.
Before I go any further, let me just say that I've never been (and don't intend to be) a movie critic. There would be no spoilers (because I don't believe in spoiling others' share of entertainment) and there certainly will not be any 'The movie would have been better if the director did this or that' kind of comments. As it is, I am not planning on becoming a director or a script writer anytime soon. All I want to achieve from this entry is merely recording what I felt and what I think I've learned from the movie. After all, learning is not confined to the four walls of the classroom only.
Anyway, I thought the movie was profoundly moving. It had none of the 3D thingies that we have all been recently caught in. Neither did it have those complicated plots and level of thinking that makes us wonder whether the straight spoon we hold in our hands could be bent using concentration of mind power. Nope, it had none of those, thank God. There were only a few characters involved in a plot so simple one could be kicked in the head for not thinking about it earlier. There were also a lot of sea scenes which would have made Dad very happy if I could ever persuade him to watch the silver screen. It was in short, a story (albeit with a slight supernatural twist to it. Okay, I've said more than I should) about how the bond between brothers could transcend beating hearts and different spaces in time. But most importantly, it tries to convey a simple truth that life is about living. The characters in the movie were there to show us how that should have been one of the easiest concepts to grasp and that we often fail to do so.
I don't know about you but I am one of those guilty ones who fail to learn, despite my age (don't think I'm going to spill the beans on my age here) that life is about living in the present. Whether it was a conscious choice or something that is just inherently built in me, it has always been to chase the future and once I've reached the destination or objective, to lament on the past. Nothing is ever thought of about the present when that could very well be the most exciting period. Dad said that to think about the past or things (or persons) you have lost or reminiscing about memories are not good. Nostalgia is a mental shackle that keeps you back from reaching towards the future. And the very reason for having nostalgia is because one feels that the present is not appealing enough, conveniently forgetting that today's present would be tomorrow's past.
Perhaps that is why I'm trying (although I can't say I've been successful much) to be more in the present. I think I want to be more receptive towards things which I would have rejected or dismissed in the past as frivolous. It means trying out 'possibilities', considering 'chances' and taking 'opportunities' instead of settling for 'decisions'. If I was shy in the past, that would naturally mean me having to take the initiative to approach people now (I think my fistful of friends would be rolling on the floor right now, laughing their asses off). If my taste in music was previously confined to oldies, I am now trying to acclimatise my ears to what people call nowadays as music. Unfortunately, that is still a failure despite my ability to automatically hum along whenever modern songs are aired. Last but not least, I think I appreciate people more than I ever did.
However, this does not mean that I'm throwing my life away or condoning participation in events or involvement with people that would give me a future to regret. I believe in life and that life is about living. I just have to tread this tightrope of choices carefully enough so that in my effort to live life, I do not actually waste whatever I've achieved these past years away.
p/s this is so totally random. And I've just noticed that I tend to define more as in "Charlie". This could be a serious case of work influencing the personal realm *shudder*.
And what counts as ordinary is usually meeting my girlfriends for dinner and catching a movie. Well, those things happened (as usual) but the most important thing that became a reason in the last-minute change in my weekend plan (and the basis for this post) was what occurred before and after I met the girls.
What happened was that on Friday evening, I somehow arrived much earlier than the rest. As I took the escalator from Gardens' basement parking and made my way to the area that connects Gardens and Mid Valley, my eyes suddenly zoomed towards this one lady. Amidst the huge crowd of people walking past at a franetic pace and becoming a constant moving human barrier between us, I saw that she was totting two Lewre shopping bags. Not only did she have two bags but those bags were filled with shoe boxes. Being a shoe-holic and knowing very well that the brand in question is not exactly something the general public can afford to buy more than 1 pair at any one time, I became very curious.
With curiosity needing to be satisfied and time that is very much on my side, I quickly rushed to the store. And it was there that I was greeted by a sight that left me dead in my tracks. The shoe store which would usually be devoid of customers was now brimming with ladies trying out shoes. With boxes being everywhere and ruffled looking sales assistants trying to entertain multiple requests for sizes, it was like a shoe armageddon had taken place right in Mid Valley. I entered the store anyhow and saw the reason behind the madness - "Pre-Renovation Sale: 1 pair for RM30, 2 pairs for RM50".
I read the signboard once before reading it for the second time. In my defence, I think anyone in their natural state of mind would do the same thing. For a store that sells impressive evening footwear and quality shoes with price tags no lower than 3 digits (I know they are not Jimmy Choos or Manolo Blahniks but paying 3 digits for any pair of shoes I'm not going to wear often is not exactly good economic sense!), the sale was unbelievable. I wondered around in the store trying to find something which I would like to buy (although at that earth-shattering price, any reason is good enough to buy 'em). In the end (and after my numerous attempts to get my size out of the fast-depleting collection which was available), I gave up.
I then met the girls for dinner which I informed them ruefully that a shoe sale had taken place and by the time I found out, it was too late for me to do anything. We then proceeded to watch Charlie St. Cloud and I forgot about the big miss. By the time the movie ended, it was approximately quarter to 12 a.m. Together with Akmar, we then made our way to the ground floor for our respective parking lots. As we were coming down the escalator, I suddenly remembered about the shoe store and persuaded Akmar to just walk past the shop. Perhaps it was a small attempt to console myself but I wanted to show Akmar the shoe store that I was telling them about during dinner.
Although the shop has closed (as would any retail shop after 10 p.m. Seriously, why can't they extend the shopping hours?), I could not believe my eyes when I saw that the same ruffled looking sales assistants were still in the shop and they were busy ... restocking the shoes!!! I'm not referring to them merely arranging the few boxes on the floor which had greeted me earlier but it was way better. Although I'm standing on the other side of the store's grill (and a case of being so near and yet so far), I could see rows and rows and rows of boxes being stacked up against the walls. The scene was just beautiful and if only I could reach my hands out to pick out size 37... that would be perfect.
Akmar pulled me away saying it was already late and that we have to go home because we would be leaving for Malacca the next morning. My feet moved but my heart remained with the boxes. There was no way I'm not getting at least one pair for myself at such a ridiculously cheap price. With steely determination (or perhaps an unexplained bout of craziness), I turned to Akmar and requested her to wait while I ask the sales assistants who were still in the shop. I don't think Akmar believed that I would actually march up to the shoe sales assistants but that was just what I did. I knocked on the grill and having stopped them from restacking the boxes, I politely enquired whether the boxes by the walls were for the next day's sale. A female assistant nodded and I thanked my lucky star that a male sales assistant was also nearby. He looked tired but perhaps having been amused by the sight of me knocking on the grill in the ungodly hours of morning, he offered more information. Apparently, they will bring out different collection for each day of the sale and that I'm advised to be in front of the store before 10 a.m. to grab my size and preferred design(s). I smiled in gratitude, a plan already being hatched in my head.
I walked towards Akmar who was now laughing so hard. She swore that I must have been possessed for only a crazy person would actually do what I did. As 'crazy' is never an adjective one would use to describe me, I think I must agree with her. Anyway, I told her that we must simply make a stop in Mid Valley first thing on Saturday morning before we push off for Malacca. She said she'll inform the rest but in my 'crazy' mode, I fished out my handphone and immediately called another friend who is also going with us to Malacca. When Syahida picked up her phone, her sleepy voice did not manage to stop me from blurting "We MUST go to Mid Valley tomorrow morning" and "I HAVE TO GET MY SHOES". I ended our short telephone conversation by informing her that I'll reach their place latest by 9-ish so that we can race to Mid Valley and stake a place outside the store before 10 a.m.
Thanks to Dad and Mum who were game enough to drive me to the girls' house before 9 a.m. and thanks to Sya who was already waiting to drive us to Mid Valley, I found myself with a sense of excitement. Unfortunately for Akmar, she could not join us for our great 'war' but she promised that she'll join us later. As I entered the car, Sya who was demurely dressed in baju kurung (which was logical as we were going for Raya visiting in Malacca and Johore) must have thought my attire was improper for the houses that we'll invade in a couple of hours. Compared to her, I was not wearing baju kurung after having opted for what I called as my 'bargain hunter' clothes i.e. knee length shorts, short sleeve tee and slip-on sandals. My baju kurung and kebaya for Raya visits remained properly folded in my overnight bag.
With Sya equally excited, we found ourselves with other equally excited females (young and old from different races. If not for the fact that each of them represented competition and a stumbling block in my quest to buy those shoes, I would have appreciated the scene more) standing in front of the store or waiting nearby (some were trying to be discreet in not wanting the whole world know that they're bargain hunters or beyond-help shoeholics) while waiting for our watches to show 10 a.m. Time was passing by ever so slowly and we spent the wait looking at the sample shoes being put on display. Sya and I tried to peer and see for ourselves, shoes that would soon read as ours (but mostly mine, haha). I spotted a few designs which I liked but judging from the comments and finger pointing that were happening around us, others seemed hellbent on claiming the shoes as theirs as well! And it doesn't help to ease my frustration when I see the sales assistants were in no hurry to let us into the shop. I remembered making a remark to Sya as we inched our way closer to the store's entrance that we were really no different than sprinters at the starting line. While we may not have to squat and wait for the pistol to rip its head off, we do need to reach the destination the fastest to win the race.
When the sales assistants finally opened the doors, it was indeed a sprint. Caught in a rush of human flood entering the store, I was at first left dumbfounded. I know what I wanted but I was disoriented as others lined themselves up against the counters, pitting among each other in trying to get the assistants' attention. Sya and I were separated as every (wo)man was for herself, haha. She moved to the other counter while I tried my luck with the counter nearest to us. Soon, boxes were passed around and exchanged between hands. Voices were beginning to reach a deafening volume as each was trying to outdo the other. Everyone (except for Sya though. She is really one of the most polite customers in the frenzied rush. I even saw Sya standing as if there is a queue when others, had they been soldiers in a war, would unashamedly flout every Geneva Convention known to mankind) wanted to get their shoes and had to yell out their sizes to the poorly outnumbered sales assistants. Even guys got into the action, doing the dirty biddings of their prettier halves. Unless they too have an affinity for sandals and everything that glitters, these men were clearly there to be their girlfriends' attacking forces. Those with long arms and height also held an advantage over those who, well, were not that generously endowed with lengthy limbs or towering stature. Obviously I belong to the latter but I too had a secret weapon, the ability to squeeze my body into the smallest of space. I squeezed myself well enough to land a prime spot by the counter where I then found myself with another challenge.
That challenge was how to maximise the full use of my two hands and multi-tasking to the max. Imagine, the counter was already crowded with boxes of shoes so there's absolutely no space for me to place the shoes that I have chosen earlier. I could not leave my shoes unattended as some one else (those who are members of the size-37 fraternity) may just take a fancy and grab my shoes while I was looking elsewhere. At the same time, I've to keep a good look out for shoes that I missed earlier and try to get the sales assistant to bring me those shoes in my size. Somehow, I managed to learn juggling between what I have and what I intend to pursue. With my left hand placed firmly (also as a warning to others not to touch my stuff or else) on the boxes that I've already acquired, I used my right hand to point to shoes that are still not within my reach. And when the right hand goes unnoticed, that was when I applied a high pitch voice and plastered my face with a perfectly trained polite smile to get the sales assistant to give me what I wanted. Without me realising it, I soon had 6 boxes with me. I've won a battle but no General is satisfied with a battle when a war is at stake.
There was also the necessity to ignore my youth and petite size while trying to beat those old (and in some cases, bigger) veteran bargain hunters at their own game. I learned the hard way that these female vultures do not have, I swear they have none to begin with, any sympathy for fellow human beings. One old lady had no qualms to grab a pair of size 37 shoes when it was obvious that the sales assistant was about to give it to me. Another saw a shoe which I was holding and grabbed the last available size-37 for herself. I even had someone who conveniently whacked the stillettos' heel against my shin as we were vying for the sales assistant's attention. She did say a quick sorry but that was the extent of humanity. Thanks to her, I now sport a distinct blue-looking bruise on my leg. Hell hath no fury like a female bargain hunter, grrrr.
Once Sya was done with her collection (she settled for 4 pairs), I got her help in watching over my collection as I dived yet again into the race to get closer to the counter. I eventually found 3 new pairs of sandals but I did not manage to get another 3 which I wanted so badly. Two of those that I missed were out of sizes thanks to the earlier female vultures which I had described. The last pair which kept me on the brink of insanity was the chase to search for the left sandal of this beautiful gold beaded sandals. I even circled the store with the right sandal in my hand looking like an absolute fool. I now know the feeling of Cinderella's Prince as he roamed his kingdom to find the other half of the golden slippers. He must have felt like a fool if not for the noble concept of his one true love!
After nearly two hours being stuck in a small shoe store with lots of people, I have to say both Sya and I emerged unscathed. Although Julius Caesar may not have thought how his immortal quote would ring true for two girls like us, I wish to let him know (wherever he is right now) that he had the foresight. We came, we saw and we definitely conquered. Between us, we bought a total of 13 sandals from the shoe store. Sya even received attention from fellow shoppers when she unwittingly helped to bring all 7 shopping bags full of shoes as I tried to put my wallet in my handbag. Being the good friend that I am, I just let her get all the glory, haha.
So that was the story of how I went the whole 9 yards for shoes. Sya kinda got her vengeance against me by never failing to inform everyone that we met (in both Malacca and Johore, mind you!) how I purchased 9 pairs of shoes on Saturday morning. The number must have been unbelievable to the listener as they did not say anything. And yet, when Sya announced that she herself bought 4 pairs, people were often left gobsmacked. It was only later that we found out that the people who had the privilege of knowing my purchases thought Sya was kidding. Clearly she was not but that's not my concern. In my books, I got 9 pairs for a price which on a normal day, may not even be enough to buy one decent pair.
I eventually bought another 2 pairs in Malacca bringing my weekend collection to 11 pairs. Adding that figure to those I already have stashed away in my room or in my sister's room or in the store room, you may now call me Imelda.
p/s: you would note that I did not post any picture in this entry. I wanted to but taking a picture back then would mean one less hand to guard my shoes. You do the math and in the mean time, I'll start thinking on when my next shoe purchase will be. After all, a girl can never have too many shoes, not even when I’ve run out of storage space!
Today's lunch was at Souled Out ("SO") in Hartamas with 2 colleagues and 2 pupils. It has been ages since I've stepped into SO, the last could possibly be in year 2007 when I was doing my pupillage. Although my visits to SO have been few and far in between, only one thing comes to mind and keeps me hankering (secretly) for SO. Their Chocolate Haagen-Daaz milkshake is to gain weight for. Settling for one glass is sinful considering you should at the very least, swallow two glasses' worth of chocolate milkshake.
Lest I am accused to hold an affinity for these kind of restaurants (believe me, there are just people out there who like to use this as an ammonition against me), we ended up in SO because a colleague had suggested it. Today's Friday and given the longer lunch hour and the smell of weekend wafting ever so strongly (yeah, right. Forgive the exaggeration. I could not help myself), we were up for something good and different for lunch. The feeling was so good that no one was caught cursing while we were stuck in a traffic jam on our way to Hartamas. If it was any other day, I wouldn't be surprised if expletives are generously served all around.
Complete with a WRX driven by my colleague, we arrived at SO just a few minutes after 1 p.m. Honestly, I never thought the day would come when I would be caught sitting in a sporty car that comes with those additional thingies attached to the boot (see how ignorant I am when it comes to sporty cars? I'm sure there are specific names for the parts that I've just mentioned. For now, let's just settle with thingies, shall we?) or exhaust pipes that reminded me just how high our road humps can be. I could feel the sudden shockwaves to the spine as the car made its way on the bumpy roads. Suffice to say that I will not be ordering any sporty car any time soon.
The crowd was quite big based on what we've discovered to be the onset of the Oktoberfest. Coincidentally, SO is the place to be for the event which will start today at 7 p.m. Even when we were having our lunch, we could see a couple of Gweilos kitted in those cute outfits ready to provide special Oktoberfest Friday night music. But then again, I didn't really pay attention to them because I'd rather concentrate on my spaghetti marinara (which is just, I've to repeat this many more times that what is written here, to die for) and my perennial Chocolate Milkshake. The combo didn't really work because I was left feeling a bit uncomfortable (perhaps it's the richness of the spaghetti colliding with the milky drink in my little tummy) but hey, I was greedy. I wanted to have both so no complaints about that. Others settled for carbonara or lasagnia and washed down their meals with a glass of beer and mineral water.
The only thing that dampened our mood was of course, the thought of having to go back to our desks and computer screens. While the driver sped her car (leaving us, or me, grasping the sides of our seats for dear life) on the highway, one smarty pants was even toying with the idea of taking emergency leave or medical leave to jumpstart the weekend. Am sure a heavy lunch or Friday afternoon will never be a good reason to fall under 'emergency' or 'medical' and we never managed to find out. It was work as usual until 5.30 p.m. when the general mass exodus (usually, in a discreet manner as bosses would still be in their respective rooms) occurred.
So why am I still here in office blogging this entry when Friday evening has officially started? Believe me, I do ask myself this question time and time again. Obviously I am not doing what I'm supposed to do but the thing is, I'm still in front of the computer when other people are already on their way to enjoy what's left of Friday and the weekend.
Enough with the blogging. I've to leave office now to meet my friends for a nice dinner (mental note: No spaghetti) before watching Charlie St. Cloud. One of my friend told me that the movie is a sad movie so I do not know whether it's wise to pack a couple of tissues in my handbag for extra measure. Well, I'll blog about the movie if I'm up for it or have the time to hog my house's computer which is pretty much next to zero. I may be following the same group of friends for a short sojourn to Malaysia's southern states over the weekend.
I know my weekend will be a hectic one (which could be in certain circumstances, a nice change) and here's wishing you all a good weekend. Enjoy it because Monday will surely come, haha. Sorry about the last part, could not resist it =p
Constantly trying to figure out who she wants to be and where she'll be going from here. Believes that her red string of fate may be longer than the rest ;)
