Dots and Lines
It's a week since the night the bash was organised and I didn't go--well, almost a week at any rate, 6 days isn't really that long a period, as any student can tell. So far I've not asked anybody if they went and if they did, was it nice; but then nobody has volunteered any such information so I've nothing but speculation to work from.
School's astoundingly difficult, and getting more so by the day; I take a week to understand the Math, and even then it's not because of the lectures but the tutorials; the Chemistry's not so very complicated, but one does get tired of all the little arrows and hypotheses (admittedly it's very difficult to look at the world nanometer by nanometer); Physics is OK so far, but I've always disliked electricity; and as for Anatomy, humans should come with less than 10 bones--that's my opinion anyway. Lab starts next week so I've nothing to say about it for now.
And yet, even so, I like my course. It's strange, but whenever people I meet ask what I'm doing, it's always so nice to say "Bioengineering". Maybe it's because the word conjures up visions of a mad cackling figure in wild hair, hovering over a few cadavers with strange hummings and bubblings coming from vials and crackling devices dotting the room, while lightning flashes outside and the rain beats down the meter-long grass around the house. Maybe it's because it's got a ring of Respectability to it, giving people the idea that they're talking to a Learned Man who may one day save the world by a well-written paper in an obscure journal somewhere. Passion? Not an ounce. But I like my course anyway.
The Shoe has been taking me swimming quite frequently this week or so. Apparently he's on a craze to lose weight before Chinese New Year (in two weeks' time) because it's famous for overloading people with calories. In any case I'm not complaining--I love the water, it's always soothing, and in any case a little lost weight will be good for me: my BMI is soaring like never before and I think I might actually be overweight already. Plus my parents are telling me to slim down in a hurry for no discernible reason.
Anyway, he and I found tan lines on us this morning while swimming. It was a huge surprise since I've never had any of those before; strongly disliking most land-based sports means that one rarely ever gets out in the sun anyway. Besides, I've always had the idea that tan lines are reserved for the sort of person who rarely is ever seen without a sheen of sweat on them, or the kind of person with a lot of time and a convenient beach and lawnchair. Not meant, you know, for people who look rather like badly-grown pears with spectacles and untamable hair. But there it is, it's unmistakable: there's a rectangle of pale skin where my swimming trunks are worn, and the rest of me looks like underdone toast: brown enough that there's a contrast with the un-tanned skin, but not enough to look really brown on its own.
I wonder why the lives of people around me are filled with drama: people I meet off forums are busy coughing up vomit, being afflicted by Type 1 diabetes, breaking up, almost getting pregnant, madly in love with people of the same gender (and apparently very protective of each other too), taking 3 BSes at the same time, and generally doing quite impressive-sounding stuff--I'm here nattering on about a tan line that's really only visible under very bright sunlight. (Because I looked for it in the shower and almost couldn't find it; then again maybe that's just my bad eyesight.) Some of them have said that I ought to take a few risks and maybe my life will become interesting (by my standards); but on consideration, maybe I won't.
Maybe it's a good thing that I'm like this, because who else would listen to all the people who want to talk? They say I'm a good listener, and maybe I am, because I have nothing to be told.
[edit at 12.40am, 24 Jan]
It has just been forcibly intruded on my attention that D-Kun is, at the time of typing, no longer within the Land Below the Smog. In fact he isn't even below the smog, since he's flying to New Zealand to finish off his medical course.
Of course, he had the traditional farewell party; I am informed that they had quite an ice-cream party. Well, he did grow up there after all, so it's natural that they'll miss him.
Me? What do you mean, what about me? He'll probably appear online more often after this, which only means that I'll be more in contact with him, now that he's overseas, than I was when he was in KL. Paradoxical, but it's happened before (to my entire family, I think). And in any case there's always heaven to look forward to, for the best reunion party ever.
...unfortunately, at the next movie I watch in KL, I shall have to find someone else to laugh at the sad scenes with. And we'll need a replacement bass singer for the caroling; and a replacement beanpole for captain's-ball games; and... gah. I don't do separation well.
Here's to hoping he touches down happy and without jet-lag.
[/edit]
School's astoundingly difficult, and getting more so by the day; I take a week to understand the Math, and even then it's not because of the lectures but the tutorials; the Chemistry's not so very complicated, but one does get tired of all the little arrows and hypotheses (admittedly it's very difficult to look at the world nanometer by nanometer); Physics is OK so far, but I've always disliked electricity; and as for Anatomy, humans should come with less than 10 bones--that's my opinion anyway. Lab starts next week so I've nothing to say about it for now.
And yet, even so, I like my course. It's strange, but whenever people I meet ask what I'm doing, it's always so nice to say "Bioengineering". Maybe it's because the word conjures up visions of a mad cackling figure in wild hair, hovering over a few cadavers with strange hummings and bubblings coming from vials and crackling devices dotting the room, while lightning flashes outside and the rain beats down the meter-long grass around the house. Maybe it's because it's got a ring of Respectability to it, giving people the idea that they're talking to a Learned Man who may one day save the world by a well-written paper in an obscure journal somewhere. Passion? Not an ounce. But I like my course anyway.
The Shoe has been taking me swimming quite frequently this week or so. Apparently he's on a craze to lose weight before Chinese New Year (in two weeks' time) because it's famous for overloading people with calories. In any case I'm not complaining--I love the water, it's always soothing, and in any case a little lost weight will be good for me: my BMI is soaring like never before and I think I might actually be overweight already. Plus my parents are telling me to slim down in a hurry for no discernible reason.
Anyway, he and I found tan lines on us this morning while swimming. It was a huge surprise since I've never had any of those before; strongly disliking most land-based sports means that one rarely ever gets out in the sun anyway. Besides, I've always had the idea that tan lines are reserved for the sort of person who rarely is ever seen without a sheen of sweat on them, or the kind of person with a lot of time and a convenient beach and lawnchair. Not meant, you know, for people who look rather like badly-grown pears with spectacles and untamable hair. But there it is, it's unmistakable: there's a rectangle of pale skin where my swimming trunks are worn, and the rest of me looks like underdone toast: brown enough that there's a contrast with the un-tanned skin, but not enough to look really brown on its own.
I wonder why the lives of people around me are filled with drama: people I meet off forums are busy coughing up vomit, being afflicted by Type 1 diabetes, breaking up, almost getting pregnant, madly in love with people of the same gender (and apparently very protective of each other too), taking 3 BSes at the same time, and generally doing quite impressive-sounding stuff--I'm here nattering on about a tan line that's really only visible under very bright sunlight. (Because I looked for it in the shower and almost couldn't find it; then again maybe that's just my bad eyesight.) Some of them have said that I ought to take a few risks and maybe my life will become interesting (by my standards); but on consideration, maybe I won't.
Maybe it's a good thing that I'm like this, because who else would listen to all the people who want to talk? They say I'm a good listener, and maybe I am, because I have nothing to be told.
[edit at 12.40am, 24 Jan]
It has just been forcibly intruded on my attention that D-Kun is, at the time of typing, no longer within the Land Below the Smog. In fact he isn't even below the smog, since he's flying to New Zealand to finish off his medical course.
Of course, he had the traditional farewell party; I am informed that they had quite an ice-cream party. Well, he did grow up there after all, so it's natural that they'll miss him.
Me? What do you mean, what about me? He'll probably appear online more often after this, which only means that I'll be more in contact with him, now that he's overseas, than I was when he was in KL. Paradoxical, but it's happened before (to my entire family, I think). And in any case there's always heaven to look forward to, for the best reunion party ever.
...unfortunately, at the next movie I watch in KL, I shall have to find someone else to laugh at the sad scenes with. And we'll need a replacement bass singer for the caroling; and a replacement beanpole for captain's-ball games; and... gah. I don't do separation well.
Here's to hoping he touches down happy and without jet-lag.
[/edit]
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