Unbalanced Vision

Cattle + Pig Bones

Roman Pottery

Before Little E's imminent departure he was busy as a bumble bee, and one of his tasks was to clean the dirt off the Roman artefacts. Little did I know that besides E's day-to-day friendliness he was actually quite good at coaxing us into doing the cleaning with him. Actually there was no persuasion rhetoric involved (Mr Smarty Pants); it was more of him making affirmative statements: 'We could do it next week', or 'You'd be happy to help...' Before you even realise, you have already agreed to the undertaking. And when your flatmate's very good at what he's doing, brace yourself for bags of bones and pottery. Anyways, it turned out to be quite fun indeed. I used HY's toothbrush of course. Besides me constantly mistaking rocks for pottery, once in a while you may discover delicate patterns on the broken pieces (imagine such advanced designs in those days), an awesome cow's tooth or tiny chips from bones I've accidentally broken off (oops!), and then get told off by E.
See you in three months, Little E.

If you are thinking of buying a Compaq (aka Comshite, paq of shite or Comcrap), if the thought ever slightly crosses your mind, DON'T! My Evo N610c has had an emotional streak these past few weeks, giving me the cold shoulder like twice a day, urgh! Not to mention the last Presario that died on me whilst I was writing a thesis.

A lovely second-hand bookshop like Judd Two Books really needs to be shared with the world. First of all, it has sufficient lighting and good ventilation, unlike those old, glum bookstores that house smelly books. Second, I always manage to dig out a precious stone or two without much effort, including the ones that are languished in a Siberian corner of major stores. One time I found Voyages & Visions lying on top of a pile, which provided some helpful insights. Yesterday I was thinking of buying Frank Kermode's memoir, then a hardback The Meaning of Everything appeared before my eyes, what joy. (Enough with peoples' life stories) As the book illustrates, all the lexicographers have stern-looking faces and big beards and moustaches, except for one scholar who looks slightly more friendly: J.R.R. Tolkien. Did you know that the word 'ketchup' is originated from Cantonese?

For the sake of my health, I'd better stop eating these and move on to other delights like Haribo or the sour plums which Z brought me from TWN.

I'm not even a football fan, but the hype of Man U vs Millwall FA Cup final taking place this afternoon is making me quite excited! Excited because the media has done a great job portraying the Lions' team as the fairytale team, the underdogs fighting against the mighty Man U. People have said that they are going to get their asses kicked so bad, but who knows? I always like underdogs. Also, am determined to find out where Millwall, wasteland of the yobs, is located on the map. Apparently it is somewhere near Canary Wharf. S happened to be at Paddington this morning, and already fans in blue and white were gearing up for the match, drinking beers and buying Jack Daniels at this time of the day. Unfortunately S was wearing a red tee, stirring malcontent amongst them. Going to turn on the telly now.

Wednesday:
Traffic was slightly better, though when approaching Centre Point I managed to piss off a bus driver by blocking his big fat arse. He announced his presence with a loud prolonged honk, as I leaned to the extreme side of the road like a rat. Shop did some sensible business today, woohoo! Amongst them, a European wife splurged out 90+ quid on a Kingsley Amis for her husband's birthday. Still had loonies paying their daily visit, including an American Forrest Gump lookalike who thinks he owns a precious book of the century but doesn't really. One man enquired if we have books on Russian history in stock, another asked about New Zealand ones. For your information, no, we don't. Also made a nice box for an early twentieth century bulky tome and felt quite satisfied with myself. Lastly, the English must have some magical fingers, for with a simple touch they make the best cups of tea in the world.

Thursday:
Weather was a bit iffy, hence panicky lady across the street kept on telling me to cover up our outdoor displays. 'It's going to come down any minute', she says. Didn't sell as many books as yesterday. I spent most of the time in front of the computer working on catalogues. At noon, boss passed down words of wisdom: 'one has to be cruel to be kind'. Haha, sometimes I think I'm working with a bunch of Oscar Wildes.

'During a canoe ride one night, I sat quietly for almost an hour, trying to spot some of the jungle's creatures. With a flashlight, I finally saw squirrel monkeys running along tree branches. A crocodile eyed my canoe as it moved through the water. On my return to camp, I saw a large, hairy tarantula sitting on a tree stump'.
So what does 'it' refer to in this sentence? The crocodile or the canoe? C told me this was one of the questions on his students' English exam paper; the majority chose the 'crocodile'. One student who insisted that 'it' must be the 'canoe' wanted to claim her points back. Her erstwhile English teacher had taught them that a pronoun usually refers to the closest noun in the sentence. Seeing the argument, the bossy headmaster poked his nose into this grammar business, and announced that 'it' can be both the crocodile and the canoe. (The Word of God) C and I think 'it' is the crocodile cos the reptile is the subject of this sentence, and that the whole paragraph appears to be describing the movements of jungle animals. This is a glimpse of the pettiness of English education in Taiwan. I once read this on an exam paper:
My brother gave me two _______ yesterday. 1) pen 2) pens 3) penis
Hope it was a typo.

I left the flat around 9:30ish on my Brompton yesterday. Was riding in a Driving Miss Daisy-like speed as London morning traffic can be quite daunting, but then saw random guy in those oh so sexy biker shorts zooming ahead, so decided to cycle along at a similar breakneck pace. First day was introduced to the bits and pieces, and reminded about the mad, eccentric punters that fancy coming to the shop, to which I find very amusing. The shop has a nice collection, ranging from Katie Price's autobiography to Rabelais' giants. The people who work there are pretty cool, creating a friendly atmosphere. They seem to have a genuine love for books; at the end of the day, they end up buying books from themselves.

Shopgirl signing off.
('Shopgirl' name origin: Meg Ryan's cyberspace ID in You've Got Mail.)

It's rather impossible to put up with strident sounds. Damn hammering and drilling noises coming from upstairs since this early morning is increasing its level of annoyingness every second, urgh... Had the urge to pay a friendly visit to our neighbours and ask them when this nuisance is going to end, but right now cannot be bothered to do so.

Eurovision highlights--best singing contest ever!
1) Men in white seems to be modish these days, but I think the colour suits Caucasian blokes better; Asian males would look like weedy gansters.
2) Ridicules of Terry Wogan were too funny. You continental losers can take the competition as seriously as you want, but we here are going to mock and amuse ourselves.
3) Way too many participants for me to remember each of their performances, yet the gay lookalike from Bosnia-Herzegovina made an indelible impresssion. Now try picturing Graham Norton doing the same disco dance... ewh!
4) Wasn't very impressed with Ukraine Xena warrior cos thought they were a bit barbaric, though have to admit the outfit was quite creative.
5) Is Israel part of Europe?

I reckon we Asians should totally have our Asianvision as well! The place is the heaven for cheesy mellow pop.

Yorkshire research whizz WY and I sat outside in the sun to have lunch at West End--the salmon was awesome. We talked about mutual friends, summer plans and manipulative supervisors; it sounds like going to Edinburgh this August for the plays would be a great idea. Sometimes it's hard for me to fathom WY cos we were in different years in uni and I tend to treat her with 'respect'. And judging from her appearance, you can't tell that she goes to gigs quite a bit, drinks quite a bit and defends her opinions quite a bit. She's one of the most rational and self-sufficient people I know of. After saying goodbye, I popped inside the National Portrait Gallery to see the sleeping Beckham, thanks to its overwhelming publicity. The piece was rather dull to be honest, was he really asleep anyways? Besides, there's already too many tourist faces on the streets, and I wouldn't want to see more in the gallery. Looks like it's going to be a week of sun.

How evil are you?

(Wonder why 'Canada' is listed as one of the options to some questions?)
Am a boring good girl, and this is what boring good girls do.

There was wine and a table full of splendid Indonesian dishes. On one end, M recalled that at their last house party, he walked into his room only to find a woman breastfeeding her baby. The first thing he let out was 'What the [expletive deleted]!' (for the welfare of our future generation). This prompted the other guys to talk about how embarrassing it is to witness human milking practices, though they understand that it is more than natural. On the other end of the table, HY was expressing his concern over a slightly unsatisfying study group night. He went on for a bit about setting/attaining goals, and just when you thought the conversation topic had changed, the gentleman who sat next to HY actually enquired further on this matter. He seemed interested in knowing the methods of when to begin/stop studying, and worried that his coworker might be pushing himself to hard. I instantly suspected that this bloke must be quite young of age, for who gives a damn about goals when the days of exams are long gone and one is already living it up? Anyways, he was younger. But I wouldn't worry to much about HY. He always knows when to relax and when to get back to work again.

'Goddess of song, teach me the story of a hero'.
Am looking forward to Troy and expecting to see loads of men with finely chiselled features and muscular physiques fighting the guts out for one another, yes! Though behind the scenes there were disputes over the sexuality of our hero, with Pitt refusing to be portrayed as gay Achilles. I would recommend Pitt to read Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida, in which some not only read Achilles as a homosexual, but also as an effeminate transvestite. Hope this will make the golden boy feel much better.

F and I were conversing over e-mail this afternoon. These snippets are here just to show you that I'm not good at giving surprises, therefore when I tell you what you are getting, don't try to plug your ears.

R: Could you give me your mailing address please, thanks.
F: I'm moving... again... this Saturday, and I won't have a place of my own until I come back from Taiwan on the 15th of July. Here's KC's address though.
R: You just cannot stop moving, can you? Are you on the run or something? This sounds a bit lame, cos I'm pretty bad at giving surprises: I'm sending you this birthday postcard. Hopefully you can receive it before you leave for Taiwan. So look out for a postcard in KC's mailbox, or tell him not to hide it.
F: Woo... birthday card for me!!! Now that you told me, I can even start enjoying it earlier... Let's talk on MSN this week... I'll be on tomorrow... maybe even later today if I work fast enough! Finishing up the last few pages of my paper right now.
R: So want to talk to you online, but better not. You know why? Cos I would end up telling you all the things I already wrote on your birthday card, urghhhh. And it would not be a surprise AT ALL.

I can understand how some people find Bassett's Candy Liquorice Allsorts very disgusting. Lured by its pretty colours, I tried one when I was little and thought the taste and texture were horrible, I almost puked. Little E tells me to take them out of his sight, and S says that she never touches those yucky candies. However, I am now very much in love with these traditional sweeties, and have to curb my sweet tooth by hiding the package in the cupboard, otherwise I will just gobble them up one after another--they taste sort of like our brown sugar at home. Also, liquorice are reported to be a cure for SARS.

Is anyone going to the UCL graduation ceremony held in September? I do remember walking pass the graduates last year when I was on my way to hand in the dissertation, and the food served in the hall looked really yum. Since there's only five of us, I don't want to be the only one sitting there listening to boring speeches in my oversized black robe looking really dumb. Like two years ago when overseas students were queueing for admission, and everyone found their future course mates, I was left all alone as well. Pooh.

'How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd'.
Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard

Found this awesome website via The Big Smoker and have been addicted to the game ever since. When I'm not playing, I even think about how to arrange my route to win. A direct translation of its Chinese meaning would be 'jumping chess', a board game I used to play when I was a kid. Now one can set the colour of the board and checkers according to one's preference online, though mind you, the annoying red is extremely good at blocking your way. I wonder how the computer manages to win by only 20+ moves?

Some restaurants like to prove their urban existence by showing off their unique designs, as fully expressed on the male/female restroom signs. Creativity deserves credit, but when one is in a hurry to go to the loo, sophisticated lines describing how men/women use the toilet can be quite annoying. *pause* Erm, do I stand up or do I sit down? What gender am I today?

To take a last glance at the Pre-Raphaelite Vision: True to Nature exhibition I ventured into Tate Britain today. The rain was pissing down, but luckily route 88 takes us from home straight to the museum giving absolutely no hassle at all. Paintings were mainly of the British natural scenery--recorded in bright colours and meticulous in detail (they lent out magnifying glasses for vistors to study the intricacies of their craft). To an extent such delicate styles of drawing can be beautiful yet at times quite tedious--I was never amused by Wordsworth's overt excitement over a bird or a flower. As my art fatigue sets in I went upstairs to look at something distinctively different: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. Hirst and two best mates have displayed their junk in an open-plan space. This setting, however, gives the false impression that it is a playground for kids. One little boy was chucking something inside a glass box under the observance of his parents, until someone came to stop him. Another kid attempted to touch Fairhurst's black gorilla, but his mum warned, 'Don't touch, otherwise the lady behind you will get very angry'. That random lady would be me. This is my favourite: A little girl began screaming in front of Lucas' artwork of genitals--fairly reasonable I suppose. Are these works titled 'Fuck the Egg Man' or 'Cnut' suitable for children anyways? All in all, it was a pleasant experience and the sun showed up when I came out.

HY found this major cool website which displayed pictures of some of the teeming streets in the metropolis. Walk down Tottenham Court Road to get a drink at The Court, vitamins at Boots or kitchenware at Robert Dyas, then at the end of the road you shall arrive at Warren Street tube station.