I’m so glad the clock has finally ticked down to the start of the holidays proper. Though this signifies I have to contend with my Extended Essay and miscellaneous other scholarly assignments, I can finally kick back and enjoy the fun only electronic entertainment devices can bring.
I had dinner with Kel and Xiu at Clarke Quay on Friday. A dinner by the riverside usually conjures to mind peace, quiet and sober relaxation - well, we had that, except there was this indiscriminate noise polluter of a G-MAX Reverse Bungy in the background. Just like the last level of Elite Beat Agents on ‘Chieftain’ difficulty, that monstrous structure is so intense it’s scary. I have to admit that I’m wholly afraid of these high-G death-defying rides - yes, that’s probably irrational fear seeing as they’re usually almost completely safe, but then again how rational is the compulsion to actually give any of these vomit-inducers a try? I think I’d be too damn scared to even scream. I think I’ll stick to deriving whatever excitement I want from my DS, thanks… I hope Xiu’s not entirely serious about giving it a spin the next time we’re there, I couldn’t tell.
I think I’ve been letting my mind a little too loose as of late. First there was the hilarity with that Ramune bottle, and I shan’t mention more of that here, lest my demolished wall of hubris gets blown up further. Curse you, weird bottle and incomprehensible Japanese instructions. Moral of the story: in contrast to conventional wisdom, doing weeaboo things is detrimental to perceived self-image. But deleting the folder labeled ‘Writing’ (which was home to all those incomplete potential poetic masterpieces) while migrating laptops has to hurt more, especially when a backup was actually made, but was prematurely deleted, too. Shit.
