Friday, March 25, 2005
Today, for a change, I went to see a chinese sinseh for the nagging pain in my right shoulder which I have been ignoring for like, a hundred years already.
My mom persuaded me to go try TCM (Traditional Chinese Medicine) because she reasoned that all the western doctors could do was just give some pain-killers and that's it. Which, in my opinion, sounded quite true.
So early this morning I went to this dark and eerie place which looked everything like a massage parlor, inclusive of the female Chinese nationals with the heavy make-up and all (no offense!).
So with apprehension I entered the shop. The sinseh led me to this curtained space with a bed in the middle and asked me to take off my shirt. At first I thought I heard wrongly, but when the sinseh repeated, my shock was confirmed. Take off my shirt in front of a total stranger in a massage-palor-lookalike-place?! Are you kidding!
But heng the sinseh was a female ah. The Chinese national female.
Quite surprising, but I have to admit she is one professional. And she is goood.
She made me lie down on the bed, and I just told her my shoulder hurts when I swing, then she probed and pressed at my right shoulder, and poked this exact location which is the center of pain, which made me squirm in pain. Then she used oil and started rubbing my whole hand - rub and rub, knead and knead (which reminds me of baking bread because my arm is like the dough while she kneads and rub and massage, stretch and pull, compress and poke and probe). She worked as if she had magic fingers... Whenever she rubbed it was as if she was scraping a raw nerve or muscle - it hurt like crazy!
And after about 20 minutes of torture, it was finally over. I couldn't be more relieved. And I have to say, even though it was a very painful 20 minutes, my hand actually felt better afterward. So the sinseh threatened for me to rest for at least one week, else it won't heal (all doctors use the same threats... no originality. haha).
But I don't have one week.
2 days later is a friendly. 1 week later is most probably the beginning of the competitive season. And in between will be trainings.
It's too important to skip those.
Sigh. I just hope the pain will go away so I can play normally again.
Hope.
But anyway, I vaguely remember I got up on Tuesday morning at 9.20am and went online to check the posting results. And I got posted to science stream in HCI. I wasn't surprised because I kinda expected it. But I didn't realise how lucky and blessed I was.
Then my friend called to tell me that most 8-pointers didn't make it, and even if they did they were in the Arts Stream. And at that point all I could think of was how lucky I am.
Later, a while after the phone call, it was with sudden realisation that I understood the significance. It dawned on me how kind God has been to me for He allowed me to get into the JC without appealing.
I guess there must be a reason as to why God have placed me here. But what exactly, that I have to find out for myself. It is my prayer that God will, day by day, show me what it is really.
Not my will but Yours.
It ain't free.
You gotta earn it.
And I met new people, new friends.
And being at the beach really took my mind off things that I'd otherwise be killing my brain cells with worry about. So I'm thankful for this day, even though it means chucking my tutorials aside and risking being in my teachers' bad books.
I like the feeling of being free (who doesn't?), of the endless outdoor space I can run and play in. Sometimes in an enclosed space where its so dense you can't even hear your own echo, I will feel as though invisible forces are pressing against me in all directions, compressing my lungs so I have difficulty breathing, pressing me into nothingness.
Sometimes only. Maybe the breathing part is just a psychological problem, not a real physical one, 'cause otherwise I wldn't be sitting normally typing here now.
Guess what.
I suspect I am semi-claustrophobic.
But anyways, suspicions about my medical sanity aside, I am feeling better now, after much advice from friends. Thanks to all. :)
And tomorrow will be a great day.
I hope.
I hate myself for not being able to do the right things at the right time; hate myself for fumbling when in fact all it takes is just a little intrepidity; hate myself for allowing what others think/say affect me and worse, to even break me; hate myself for constantly hoping for something that is long gone, which will never be again; hate myself for letting so many things to hate me for to be true.
I totally abhor the fact that I can actually allow myself to think that by burying myself into the fantasy world of fiction, reality ceases to exist. Which is so not true. Because once I close that novel, everything else crashes back.
Rahhhhhhhhhhhh.
I dont' even know where to start, but think I gotta learn to love myself.
A photo of everybody conked out after the night cycling trip. Spot me.
I went night-cycling yesterday with friends from church and boy was it an experience of a lifetime. It started at 10pm, and the plan was to cycle from West Coast (where my church is) to East Coast Park. We were all pumping with adrenaline and bursting with energy at the beginning, and we reached our destination at 11.20+pm, way ahead of schedule because we estimated 3hrs travel time. I enjoyed the cool night breeze on my face, the quietness of the city that never sleeps, and just simply watching the world go past me as I cycled on. When we did reach ECP, I thought it was "no-kick" at all because I expected a tougher journey.
And a tougher journey I did get. (even tougher than I imagined)
Ps. J and Isaac decided we had time to go down to Changi Village and be back in West Coast by sunrise. I felt just a tiny hint of fatigue setting in, but I pressed on anyways. Thus began the first leg of this torturous journey. I used to love looking at the planes while travelling along the road beside the Changi Airport runway, watching the trees fly past in the comfort of the car I'm in. Not today. (Or, not tonight, for that matter). It was 2am in the morning and I'm cycling along this insanely long road which seems to stretch forever - it was so long that I couldn't even see the end. There was a period of time when I was cycling alone, and it was pure madness I tell you. The people in front were too fast for me to catch up, and the people behind were to slow to be seen. It was really mindless cycling: my body only knew to keep pumping my leg muscles - up and down, up and down, up and down. The thing that kept me sane all this while was talking to God. Like always, God was the one who was and is and will be there for me when I'm alone and going mad.
Just when I thought it'd never end, we finally reached Changi V. I couldn't be happier for this break, but thinking about the journey back home filled me with dread.
It was going to be another 2 hours of pure toture.
So at 4am we set off for home. To beat the morning traffic, we were to cycle at a faster speed. I almost went crazy. I was feeling tired, and wondering where all the initial energy I felt had gone to, but here I was on the same long stretch of road again. It was different now. I was feeling the full blown effects of fatigue. It tortured me mercilessly like I was some lowly slave, and with each lashing whip it split open my flesh and sapped my energy dry.
My thighs were screaming for me to stop, and they threatened to set fire at the rate lactic acid was accumulating and burning them. And my butt, how they hurt. The bicycle seat was so small (and it didn't really help that I have a big butt), and applying the law of pressure (force over surface area), plus the constant rubbing of them against the rock hard seat everytime I peddle up and down, I was in excruciating pain. Yet I know I cannot stop.
And it didn't really help that my bike was one lousy bike with lousy gear shifts, lousy tyres, lousy seat, and a cyclist in pain and agony. The rest of the guys (I was the only girl! :S) had power bikes, with shock absorbers, turbo gear shifts, good tyres which minimise friction, and one peddle could send them on lightning speed. So while all the guys were zooming past, here I was peddling like mad, but still moving an a snail pace of approximately 1cm/s. And it also didn't help that all I could think of was how long more we had to cycle before we even reach West Coast Highway. :(
With each pump of the peddle, my posterior felt as though it was being whacked b a plank a thousand times over, my thighs felt as though highly concentrated acid was being poured on them. And we were still nowhere near the halfway mark. I never felt more lost, more pathetic. Dried of all energy and the will to go on.
I'd be lying if I told you I never thought of giving up. I fantasised about flagging down a taxi and riding home in the comfort of the cushioned seat and air-con. I just need to stick out my arm and flag, its that easy. But I hung on. I didn't wanna give up and choose the easy way out because then it'll be yet another proof that girls are weak, incapable of hardship. I wanted to proof to the world (I'm a little ambitious here. :P) that what guys can do, girls could too.
This was what pushed me on to make the next pump on the peddle, and the next, and the next. And of course God was there to give me that mental strength to overcome all physical barriers I was facing. And when I finally saw West Coast Park, I was so exhilarated I almost wanted to scream out loud in joy.
It was like seeing an oasis when your throat is dry and parched, and the sun is bearing down on you like nobody's business when you're in the desert. It was like plopping down on your soft fluffy bed after a day of inhumane training. It was like dipping your tired feet in warm water after a day of continuous shopping. It was like... well, you get my point. It was like reaching heaven after you're torn and battered by life's journey (of course reaching heaven would be far better than this, but its just an analogy lah.)
When I reached church finally, I almost knelt down to kiss the "holy" ground. Like what a sailor would do after months at sea when they reach land.
And all my other friends and I were like survivors after a terrible war. We just lied down on the floor, fatigued, yet thankful to God for seeing us through this whole experience. I remember feeling a great sense of achievement, amazed that I could overcome this test of determination and sheer grit, before I succumbed to slumber.
In total, we cycled a shocking distance of 88km in a night.
The power of the human will.
Moral of the story: Impossible is nothing.
Conclusion: I'll never touch a bicycle ever again.
(like, duh.)
Anyways, I really miss being in an all-girls' school. I used to tell my friends from other schools about how boring life is in a single gender school becuase left right up down no matter which direction you turn to its just simply girls, girls and more girls. (Not that I'm complaining lah, but I don't mind a little variations once in a while. Y'know, like, girls girls, boys, girls, boys, gays. (Aha I was just kidding about the last one hor! I'm against waywardness~! :P))
I miss not being able to sit any how any way I like to sit in the canteen (no matter if I have my legs propped up like an ah beng in a kopitiam, cross-legged, lying on the bench, not crossing my legs like girls are obliged to, nobody really cares. Because everyone else is doing the same!). If you are my junior don't read the following sentence. I miss not being able to bully my juniors 'cause I have no juniors in JC!
I miss those times in my class 4/8, (especially during that time of the month), when I can just shout out "I need a pad!" and pads will start flying in from all directions from my classmates. I miss having Valentine's day/birthdays where everyone will come up to you and wish you stuff like ur the VIP for the day or something.
And mostly, weirdly, funnily, and illogically, I miss being in an all-girls' environment with all the girls around me.
(Don't worry I'm perfectly 100% straight.)
Somehow, a co-ed environment will bring about as much headaches as you could possibly think of.
I miss Nanyang.
For the hundredth time I feel like strangling the computer. Which wasn't physically possible. I feel like I'm being taunted by the stupid site; so much that I can almost hear its contemptous laughter.
From last night till now I've been trying to enter the site to do the JAE (Joint Admissions Exercise) thingy but to no avail. My mom said probably everyone is rushing to do it since its peak hour after dinner (?), so I waited till this morning. But the same problem occurred! Rawr!
For every step of the way the "we are unable to process ... inconvenience caused" message kept popping up so many times I can almost memorise it already. When I clicked for the singpass.com site it appeared, after I typed my password for my singpass it appeared, when I clicked Course Application (when I finally logged in) it appeared, which means I have to start right from the beginning again. It's like a snake & ladders game - and I always end up in the box with the snake sliding down to the Start box. Imagine the frustration!
Imagine my happiness when I got through after like, my 999th try. I wanted to jump up and scream around in joy when I finally saw the "Your JAE registration was submitted successfully." message!
Maybe as I type this, there are still people who face the same frustrations as me... That's why I'm glad the deadline has been extended till Monday. Else Singapore may find half of its student population disqualified for JC/Poly/ITE Admission just because they couldn't get into the site.
Today, for a change, I went to see a chinese sinseh for the nagging pain in my right shoulder which I have been ignoring for like, a hundred years already.
My mom persuaded me to go try TCM (Traditional Chinese Medicine) because she reasoned that all the western doctors could do was just give some pain-killers and that's it. Which, in my opinion, sounded quite true.
So early this morning I went to this dark and eerie place which looked everything like a massage parlor, inclusive of the female Chinese nationals with the heavy make-up and all (no offense!).
So with apprehension I entered the shop. The sinseh led me to this curtained space with a bed in the middle and asked me to take off my shirt. At first I thought I heard wrongly, but when the sinseh repeated, my shock was confirmed. Take off my shirt in front of a total stranger in a massage-palor-lookalike-place?! Are you kidding!
But heng the sinseh was a female ah. The Chinese national female.
Quite surprising, but I have to admit she is one professional. And she is goood.
She made me lie down on the bed, and I just told her my shoulder hurts when I swing, then she probed and pressed at my right shoulder, and poked this exact location which is the center of pain, which made me squirm in pain. Then she used oil and started rubbing my whole hand - rub and rub, knead and knead (which reminds me of baking bread because my arm is like the dough while she kneads and rub and massage, stretch and pull, compress and poke and probe). She worked as if she had magic fingers... Whenever she rubbed it was as if she was scraping a raw nerve or muscle - it hurt like crazy!
And after about 20 minutes of torture, it was finally over. I couldn't be more relieved. And I have to say, even though it was a very painful 20 minutes, my hand actually felt better afterward. So the sinseh threatened for me to rest for at least one week, else it won't heal (all doctors use the same threats... no originality. haha).
But I don't have one week.
2 days later is a friendly. 1 week later is most probably the beginning of the competitive season. And in between will be trainings.
It's too important to skip those.
Sigh. I just hope the pain will go away so I can play normally again.
Hope.
writing at 9:14 PM
But anyway, I vaguely remember I got up on Tuesday morning at 9.20am and went online to check the posting results. And I got posted to science stream in HCI. I wasn't surprised because I kinda expected it. But I didn't realise how lucky and blessed I was.
Then my friend called to tell me that most 8-pointers didn't make it, and even if they did they were in the Arts Stream. And at that point all I could think of was how lucky I am.
Later, a while after the phone call, it was with sudden realisation that I understood the significance. It dawned on me how kind God has been to me for He allowed me to get into the JC without appealing.
I guess there must be a reason as to why God have placed me here. But what exactly, that I have to find out for myself. It is my prayer that God will, day by day, show me what it is really.
Not my will but Yours.
writing at 12:47 AM
Sunday, March 20, 2005
It ain't free.
You gotta earn it.
writing at 11:02 PM
Saturday, March 19, 2005
And I met new people, new friends.
And being at the beach really took my mind off things that I'd otherwise be killing my brain cells with worry about. So I'm thankful for this day, even though it means chucking my tutorials aside and risking being in my teachers' bad books.
I like the feeling of being free (who doesn't?), of the endless outdoor space I can run and play in. Sometimes in an enclosed space where its so dense you can't even hear your own echo, I will feel as though invisible forces are pressing against me in all directions, compressing my lungs so I have difficulty breathing, pressing me into nothingness.
Sometimes only. Maybe the breathing part is just a psychological problem, not a real physical one, 'cause otherwise I wldn't be sitting normally typing here now.
Guess what.
I suspect I am semi-claustrophobic.
But anyways, suspicions about my medical sanity aside, I am feeling better now, after much advice from friends. Thanks to all. :)
And tomorrow will be a great day.
I hope.
writing at 9:17 PM
Friday, March 18, 2005
I hate myself for not being able to do the right things at the right time; hate myself for fumbling when in fact all it takes is just a little intrepidity; hate myself for allowing what others think/say affect me and worse, to even break me; hate myself for constantly hoping for something that is long gone, which will never be again; hate myself for letting so many things to hate me for to be true.
I totally abhor the fact that I can actually allow myself to think that by burying myself into the fantasy world of fiction, reality ceases to exist. Which is so not true. Because once I close that novel, everything else crashes back.
Rahhhhhhhhhhhh.
I dont' even know where to start, but think I gotta learn to love myself.
writing at 10:55 PM
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
A photo of everybody conked out after the night cycling trip. Spot me.
writing at 10:56 PM
I went night-cycling yesterday with friends from church and boy was it an experience of a lifetime. It started at 10pm, and the plan was to cycle from West Coast (where my church is) to East Coast Park. We were all pumping with adrenaline and bursting with energy at the beginning, and we reached our destination at 11.20+pm, way ahead of schedule because we estimated 3hrs travel time. I enjoyed the cool night breeze on my face, the quietness of the city that never sleeps, and just simply watching the world go past me as I cycled on. When we did reach ECP, I thought it was "no-kick" at all because I expected a tougher journey.
And a tougher journey I did get. (even tougher than I imagined)
Ps. J and Isaac decided we had time to go down to Changi Village and be back in West Coast by sunrise. I felt just a tiny hint of fatigue setting in, but I pressed on anyways. Thus began the first leg of this torturous journey. I used to love looking at the planes while travelling along the road beside the Changi Airport runway, watching the trees fly past in the comfort of the car I'm in. Not today. (Or, not tonight, for that matter). It was 2am in the morning and I'm cycling along this insanely long road which seems to stretch forever - it was so long that I couldn't even see the end. There was a period of time when I was cycling alone, and it was pure madness I tell you. The people in front were too fast for me to catch up, and the people behind were to slow to be seen. It was really mindless cycling: my body only knew to keep pumping my leg muscles - up and down, up and down, up and down. The thing that kept me sane all this while was talking to God. Like always, God was the one who was and is and will be there for me when I'm alone and going mad.
Just when I thought it'd never end, we finally reached Changi V. I couldn't be happier for this break, but thinking about the journey back home filled me with dread.
It was going to be another 2 hours of pure toture.
So at 4am we set off for home. To beat the morning traffic, we were to cycle at a faster speed. I almost went crazy. I was feeling tired, and wondering where all the initial energy I felt had gone to, but here I was on the same long stretch of road again. It was different now. I was feeling the full blown effects of fatigue. It tortured me mercilessly like I was some lowly slave, and with each lashing whip it split open my flesh and sapped my energy dry.
My thighs were screaming for me to stop, and they threatened to set fire at the rate lactic acid was accumulating and burning them. And my butt, how they hurt. The bicycle seat was so small (and it didn't really help that I have a big butt), and applying the law of pressure (force over surface area), plus the constant rubbing of them against the rock hard seat everytime I peddle up and down, I was in excruciating pain. Yet I know I cannot stop.
And it didn't really help that my bike was one lousy bike with lousy gear shifts, lousy tyres, lousy seat, and a cyclist in pain and agony. The rest of the guys (I was the only girl! :S) had power bikes, with shock absorbers, turbo gear shifts, good tyres which minimise friction, and one peddle could send them on lightning speed. So while all the guys were zooming past, here I was peddling like mad, but still moving an a snail pace of approximately 1cm/s. And it also didn't help that all I could think of was how long more we had to cycle before we even reach West Coast Highway. :(
With each pump of the peddle, my posterior felt as though it was being whacked b a plank a thousand times over, my thighs felt as though highly concentrated acid was being poured on them. And we were still nowhere near the halfway mark. I never felt more lost, more pathetic. Dried of all energy and the will to go on.
I'd be lying if I told you I never thought of giving up. I fantasised about flagging down a taxi and riding home in the comfort of the cushioned seat and air-con. I just need to stick out my arm and flag, its that easy. But I hung on. I didn't wanna give up and choose the easy way out because then it'll be yet another proof that girls are weak, incapable of hardship. I wanted to proof to the world (I'm a little ambitious here. :P) that what guys can do, girls could too.
This was what pushed me on to make the next pump on the peddle, and the next, and the next. And of course God was there to give me that mental strength to overcome all physical barriers I was facing. And when I finally saw West Coast Park, I was so exhilarated I almost wanted to scream out loud in joy.
It was like seeing an oasis when your throat is dry and parched, and the sun is bearing down on you like nobody's business when you're in the desert. It was like plopping down on your soft fluffy bed after a day of inhumane training. It was like dipping your tired feet in warm water after a day of continuous shopping. It was like... well, you get my point. It was like reaching heaven after you're torn and battered by life's journey (of course reaching heaven would be far better than this, but its just an analogy lah.)
When I reached church finally, I almost knelt down to kiss the "holy" ground. Like what a sailor would do after months at sea when they reach land.
And all my other friends and I were like survivors after a terrible war. We just lied down on the floor, fatigued, yet thankful to God for seeing us through this whole experience. I remember feeling a great sense of achievement, amazed that I could overcome this test of determination and sheer grit, before I succumbed to slumber.
In total, we cycled a shocking distance of 88km in a night.
The power of the human will.
Moral of the story: Impossible is nothing.
Conclusion: I'll never touch a bicycle ever again.
writing at 10:50 AM
Saturday, March 12, 2005
(like, duh.)
Anyways, I really miss being in an all-girls' school. I used to tell my friends from other schools about how boring life is in a single gender school becuase left right up down no matter which direction you turn to its just simply girls, girls and more girls. (Not that I'm complaining lah, but I don't mind a little variations once in a while. Y'know, like, girls girls, boys, girls, boys, gays. (Aha I was just kidding about the last one hor! I'm against waywardness~! :P))
I miss not being able to sit any how any way I like to sit in the canteen (no matter if I have my legs propped up like an ah beng in a kopitiam, cross-legged, lying on the bench, not crossing my legs like girls are obliged to, nobody really cares. Because everyone else is doing the same!). If you are my junior don't read the following sentence. I miss not being able to bully my juniors 'cause I have no juniors in JC!
I miss those times in my class 4/8, (especially during that time of the month), when I can just shout out "I need a pad!" and pads will start flying in from all directions from my classmates. I miss having Valentine's day/birthdays where everyone will come up to you and wish you stuff like ur the VIP for the day or something.
And mostly, weirdly, funnily, and illogically, I miss being in an all-girls' environment with all the girls around me.
(Don't worry I'm perfectly 100% straight.)
Somehow, a co-ed environment will bring about as much headaches as you could possibly think of.
I miss Nanyang.
writing at 9:35 PM
Friday, March 04, 2005
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For the hundredth time I feel like strangling the computer. Which wasn't physically possible. I feel like I'm being taunted by the stupid site; so much that I can almost hear its contemptous laughter.
From last night till now I've been trying to enter the site to do the JAE (Joint Admissions Exercise) thingy but to no avail. My mom said probably everyone is rushing to do it since its peak hour after dinner (?), so I waited till this morning. But the same problem occurred! Rawr!
For every step of the way the "we are unable to process ... inconvenience caused" message kept popping up so many times I can almost memorise it already. When I clicked for the singpass.com site it appeared, after I typed my password for my singpass it appeared, when I clicked Course Application (when I finally logged in) it appeared, which means I have to start right from the beginning again. It's like a snake & ladders game - and I always end up in the box with the snake sliding down to the Start box. Imagine the frustration!
Imagine my happiness when I got through after like, my 999th try. I wanted to jump up and scream around in joy when I finally saw the "Your JAE registration was submitted successfully." message!
Maybe as I type this, there are still people who face the same frustrations as me... That's why I'm glad the deadline has been extended till Monday. Else Singapore may find half of its student population disqualified for JC/Poly/ITE Admission just because they couldn't get into the site.
Which is quite a stupid and ludicrous reason if you think about it.
writing at 11:53 AM
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