Japanese Food

Was stuck at home the whole day, being kind of grounded by my mother and forced to study ("It's taxpayer's money you're wasting, you know!") and, well, trying to study amidst a very jet-lagged head and restless wandering brain. Needless to say I didn't get much done, the only thing I did was copy out the Heat Conduction Equation for the Fourier Series again. Rats.

Went out with my brother and his wife today, my brother having got it into his head to treat me to a meal. We went to Suntec City
and had this very very nice Japanese buffet meal for $30 (about 10 pounds). We had all manner of bright and beautiful, wise and wonderful food - soft shelled crabs, little baby octopusses (was very grossed at first but ate them nonetheless), funny sushi with strange seafood creatures and literally paper thin transparent slices of meat (which my brother said were piglet placenta - like I believe him) and prawn roe which I split all over the table:

Brother: Look at all those fish lives you've wasted! Each of these is a little fish.

Me: They may not have been fertilised anyway and they would have died if I'd eaten them as well, it doesn't make a difference.

Brother: Yes but they gave up their lives for nothing if you're not eating them.

Me: At least they died with dignity, I'd rather be cremated than eaten by a cannibal.

Cue childish argument to exasperated looks from sister-in-law.

My stomach comfortably ensconced in polka-dotted shirt is protruding like an alcoholic's belly. Think I'd better start exercising - tomorrow.

Cigarettes and Magazines... Mmmm

Was stuck in Amsterdam for ages because of an iffy motor on our transitting plane. Laughed with Audrey over everything and anything and bought lots of cheeses and siroopwafelen for my family in the meantime.

Am at my brother's house now. I realise how much I missed everyone while I was gone, now that I'm back. It's so comfortable to be back home eating fish soup and tofu and rice again. It's comforting to taste the familiar ashiness of my mother's tofu, to mess up the painful neatness of our little flat, to hear my parents nagging at me to study and to endure my brother's playful teasing about the metaphysical aspect of stepping on snails. Everything is strangely familiar and life in England seems like a dream I dreamt so long ago.

I slept for ages today because it was raining and I had jet lag. When I woke up my dad was nagging about my sleeping so long, so I said, "Wo2 You3 Jet Lag la!" (I'm suffering from jet lag la!) and my dad said, "Yi1 Zhi4 Shui4 Yi1 Zhi4 Shui4 Hai2 Yao4 Jet!" (You sleep and sleep and still want to Jet?)

I just realised that most probably no one would find that funny but me. Shall get down to some serious Easter homework now :)

Events

Went to Castleford with the peeps yesterday and I'm proud to say that instead of the immense three-figure amount I spent the last time I went (gulp) I only spent about twelve pounds. *pats self on back*

Here's what I bought:
1. Orange seville and Chocolate ginger biscuits from Thorntons.

2. Cards from hallmark.

3. A notebook from the book depot.

4. A book of smoothie recipes (my brother has a smoothie blender).

5. A logic puzzle book (nerd = me).

6. A book of devotions for my mother.

We were sitting down at the Thorntons cafe in Castleford chatting and somehow we got to talking about "The Littlest Groom", and how convenient it would be to date a midget. Extremely sizist and politically incorrect conversation resulted. :oS

When we were talking about midgets and things I somehow imagined myself to be a midget and how I would feel and how I would probably have an insecurity complex being the kind of person I am. And then when I was talking to a friend today about things and being a British-born Chinese I tried to imagine how it would be like if, say, my mum had a Japanese accent and my dad had a Chinese accent and if I had a British accent. Putting myself into the shoes of others is kind of a habit of mine, and sometimes it confuses me rather than not. I dream away about things and never really get back to the real world or know who I really am! :oP

Enough introspection for now, unhealthy self-examination shall stop

here

I'm coming home, I'm flying home, I'm going home!

Just spoke to my mum on the phone and told her that I would be flying home over easter. I had to tell her despite my plans of keeping it a big surprise, because I know she has a weak heart and I was pretty afraid of turning up at the door and seeing her bursting into tears and fainting away.

Vincent said that when he flew home without telling his mum she opened the door, took one look at him and cried out, "Ah Zai Ah!" (my son!) and cried stormily. We all laughed when we heard that, but I think (based on what I know of mother dearest) she would probably have had a worse reaction than Vincents mum.

I can see her now, standing at the door, "Ah Lui Ah!" (my daughter!) and then Thonk I see her on the floor like Mrs Trunchbull...

Anyway, amidst alot of laughter, we both agreed to keep it from my brother and my relatives. So next Wednesday is the date, everyone. Will be flying home for three weeks, to sunny skies and noodly food, and beaches and skinny girls with Japanese perms, and friendly smiles and skyscrapers and rollerblading by the beach. To parental austerity and water instead of wine, to flimsy thinsy clothes and greenery and durians and getting burnt by the sun.

I can't bear to leave, but am looking forward to it as well, in a weird kind of way.

How does Descartes try to prove his own existence? Does he succeed?

Knowledge impregnable to doubt has always been associated with Descartes’ philosophy. However, Descartes knew that even the a priori truths of Mathematics were not indubitable. Descartes allowed it to be that a malignant demon should deceive him even with regards to those things of which he was most certain. This demon, deceiving his senses, would delude him into believing falsehoods. Descartes raised the question of whether there could be any propositions which were certain and indubitable, which could possibly have escaped the demon’s reach.

Descartes’ answer was that there was only one thing he could be absolutely certain of: his own existence. His attempts to prove his own existence involve some hilarious assumptions which make for some shaky arguments. Descartes uses these arguments to arrive at the famous cogito ergo sum: I think, therefore I exist. Although the arguments with the cogito ergo sum as their implied conclusion are weak, the cogito ergo sum itself is strong enough when finally stated in its entirety to be entirely convincing. On the whole, I believe that Descartes was very successful in proving his own existence, simply because of the water tightness of the cogito ergo sum, which far outweighed the ridiculous assumptions he made in trying to arrive at it.

First, Descartes’ arguments which lead to the cogito ergo sum will be examined. Descartes begins by doubting the existence of everything in the world. He then says that God could have put these thoughts in him, or he might have created these thoughts himself. He then implies that whether or not God or himself created the thoughts he was now thinking, the fact that he existed would follow on directly from the fact that he was thinking these thoughts. This argument is a short one and its lack of any definitions whatsoever (e.g. of God or a higher being) make for some loopholes. Firstly, if God had put these thoughts into Descartes, God would also have the power to manipulate him into believing he existed when in fact he didn’t. Secondly, Descartes seems to veer towards the notion that the thoughts he thinks have been created by himself and not God, as being essential to his final conclusion that he exists because he thinks. However, he never shows us why he is partial to that notion in the first place, which leaves the reader unconvinced of his conclusion.

The next argument Descartes uses to lead to the cogito ergo sum involves the malignant demon mentioned in the introduction. He assumed the existence of an evil demon who was always working to deceive him. He then concluded that he had to exist in order to be fooled by the evil demon in the first place. In an attempt to reinforce his conclusion, he hastily added another argument: that the evil demon could not deceive him with regards to thinking that he existed, as long as he thought he existed. Hints of his strongest argument, the cogito ergo sum, are seen here, but I think this is a rather weak argument because of the rather ridiculous concept of the existence of an evil demon who would deceive him in everything other than his own existence. Although this argument seems perfectly valid, I do not think that it is Descartes’ best proof of his own existence. It seems to be rather juvenile perhaps because of the assumptions it involves or the simplicity it represents.

The last argument for his existence Descartes presents us with is his most successful one, and the one I will discuss most in detail. Some might not even say its structure was that of an argument, but it is entirely convincing. Descartes states it in its entirety in his Principles:
“We cannot prevent ourselves from believing that this knowledge, ‘I am thinking, therefore I exist’, is the foremost and most certain that occurs to anyone who philosophizes methodically’.”[1]

The strength of this argument lies in the way Descartes made the premise, “I think”, irrefutable. Descartes could not doubt that he was thinking, he said, because the very act of doubting itself was thinking. Thinking was conceived by Descartes as a mode of which doubt was an extension. “I think” would thus necessarily be true as doubting a thought would be contributing an extension of that mode, thought, in the first place. Having a doubt would be having a thought, so to doubt that one was thinking would be to think. Hence, according to Descartes, “I think” would be a logical necessity and irrefutable.

The way Descartes defined thought was also to his advantage here. Personally, I am not so sure that doubt and thought are extensions of the same mode, thought. I can also conceive of doubt and belief simply being states of consciousness, where thought belongs in another mode altogether. Perhaps if I wanted to quibble about semantics, I could refute Descartes in that way, and restate his argument as “I am conscious, therefore I exist”. However, Descartes, having defined doubt as an extension of thought, left no room for argument there, which is one of the reasons why this argument for his existence succeeds. Descartes uses “think” to define a wide range of mental processes, including belief, so much so that the reader is misled to believe that doubt that one is thinking is in some way the opposite of thinking, and if doubt that one is thinking means that one is thinking anyway, then there can be no argument against the fact that one is always thinking and it is a logical impossibility for one not to be thinking. This only serves to make us very convinced of the truth of the premise, and should I bring up my argument about doubt and thought being different states of consciousness, I would probably have been refuted by Descartes saying that “consciousness” was what he meant by “thought” in the first place. Again, only a minor matter of semantics.

Descartes, having proved that “I think” was a logical necessity, went on to say that a thought could not have been conceived without a faculty for conceiving it. Hence, it would be a natural conclusion to make that if there was a thought, there would have been something to think it. Descartes thus concludes that his own existence follows on directly from the fact that he thinks.

The success of this argument, I think, stems not from the fact that its premise is logically true. “I am not thinking” is a logical impossibility. However, it may not be a physical impossibility. There could be a state of mind somewhere in between thinking and doubting that one thought, which could be perhaps the state of nothingness nirvana is said to represent. But Descartes seems to have the suppressed premise that one is either thinking or doubting, and that doubting and thinking belong to the same mode – thinking. He implies that there is no such thing as a state of nothingness where one is neither thinking nor doubting that one was thinking. Hence he has not considered all the factors that come into play when proclaiming “I think” to be an eternal truth. However, his argument is still very successful as “I think, therefore I exist” is in itself a logical truth. “I exist” must always follow on from “I think”, and since it is logically impossible to doubt that one thinks (note: Descartes carefully avoids mentioning the non-process of not thinking itself), “I exist” must be true.

In conclusion, I believe Descartes was successful in proving his own existence, even in the light of the ridiculous assumptions he used in the process, simply because the cogito ergo sum, being a logical truth, is immensely convincing; not least because of the way Descartes chooses his definitions of belief and doubt as well. Even though I can see a little loophole in the cogito ergo sum, it is nothing that cannot be argued away with a little semantics. After all, who would want to believe that Descartes had not existed?

[1] Rene Descartes, Meditations and other metaphysical writings, Pg 114

Proofs

Proof One


1. God is the highest and most perfect being there is.


2. If God didn't exist, there would be another being higher and more perfect than God i.e. the God concept, or another God so to speak which was exactly like our concept of the first One.


3. But there cannot be another being higher and more perfect than God because by definition God is the highest and most perfect being there is.


4. Therefore God cannot not exist; i.e. God exists.

Proof Two


1. To say that God did not exist would be to suggest a flaw in the nature of God, the flaw being His nonexistance.


2. But God in His nature cannot be flawed - must be perfect.


3. Therefore God cannot have nonexistance as part of His nature - i.e. God exists.


The fool says in his heart, "There is no God." - Prov 14:1

Dreams and The Proclaimers

I had a terrible dream last night.

My childhood nightmares used to be of vampires and colourful monsters, but now that I'm older my nightmares have become a little more sophisticated.

I dreamt that I was teaching in Anglican High again, and teaching one of the worst classes in a lecture theatre. I was ill-prepared for the class and went in confident that I could bluff my way through. I tried to expand a simple lesson into a two-hour long lesson, but the students started whispering and walking around. I had to run from seat to seat yelling at them, and in the end I yelled at the whole class, "I've prepared so hard for your lesson! You should listen to me and not be so disrespectful. Do you have any idea how hard the teacher works for you? It's not even for my benefit, it's for yours!"

In my dream I looked into their eyes and I could see that they knew I hadn't prepared an iota, and they could see that I was just lying. And they continued on talking, and I walked out of the class thinking of what my mum had told me, "If the students are noisy it's our fault, not theirs. You've got to prepare enough to keep them entertained." And I felt rotten.

So in my first dream the bad part was my telling a lie consciously, knowingly. And there's a second part to the dream that is even worse.

Apparently, I'd got cocaine from one of my friends and was smoking it (?!) before school started. Then the police came to our school for a routine drugs check complete with dogs. The dog went crazy when he sniffed my backpack and Hao Hwa's (?!) backpack, probably because my bag was next to his. I was taken into a room where I insisted I wasn't taking cocaine and that the dog must have made a mistake. I was let off after having to write a letter declaring the veracity of what I'd said.

I lied consciously again, and inside I felt rotten.

Imagine a whole dream about lying. Twice.

Does this mean anything perhaps, that I'm too caught up with appearances when I should be more concerned with what is in the heart, with reality?

On a happier note, I left my laptop playing "I'm Gonna Be" the entire night, and I realised why I like the song so much, besides the lovely drumbeat. The beeoootifool accents of the singers do it for me. They're called The Proclaimers, and they're from - guess where - Scotland. No wonder I can't stop listening. Now I'm obsessed with trying to sing, "Just to be the mahn who warlks a thiousahnd me-iles to fall diown at yo' door"...

Warning: Gross Entry Ahead

I've always been strangely sensitive to smells, smells of certain people. Most of them turn me off like you wouldn't imagine, but I can't help distinguishing the smells of different people. maybe I have a particularly sensitive nose or something; at any rate I view it as more of a curse than a blessing.

Was sitting next to my Chinese coursemate today and noticed how she has this particular kind of Chinese smell, a little musty and easily distinguishable. My housemate also has a smell peculiar to him, which isn't a bad smell but which puts me off immensely, I don't know why. And funnily most guys seem to have stronger smells than women, and these smells seem to be particularly warm and thick and musky.

Am I being rather gross here? I'm grossing myself out just attempting to put my thoughts into words.

I've heard of pheremones, which are supposed to be chemicals men and women give off to attract each other. I think these are what I can very distinctly smell - the pheremones of the people around me. I feel like the little boy in the movie who had the sixth sense. Smells are something so personal about people and in being able to detect how different people smell I feel as though I'm intruding into forbidden territory.

A Life Of Ascetism...

Wednesdays are always good days because I only have one lecture at Uni and it's only at 1, so I can sleep in and generally relax throughout the day. I schedule chilling out times for Wednesdays and Fridays, and we had this girl's day out thingy scheduled for today after my lecture, so I was really really looking forward to it.

First, we went to La Dorada. Audrey, Ekio and Diane and me had these four huge plates heaped with paella, calamare, meatballs, spanish omelette (yummy) and all sorts of nice food soaked in olive oil. I must say it really did go down very smoothly. And I asked the waiter for butter (for my roll) and he looked very offended and said, "No butter!" in a Spanish accent. I guess I should've asked for olive oil...

Then after that we were chased out of the Spanish restaurant because they were preparing for dinner, so we headed to the Terrace and had coffee and chatted for ages and looked at Ekio's pictures of the Encounter Weekend... she'd taken one with the shadows of our cell group cast against a wall by the orangish light of the sunrise which was really good. And there were all these cute ones of sheep butts.

So the lights were dimmed on the Terrace, and we started heading for home but Audrey and I were already in the mega mega chilled-out mode we get into whenever our tongues have gone too fast too furious so we decided to pop down to Wetherspoons and we sat there and had dessert which was only very slightly marred by a middle aged man in the corner winking at us, but Belgian waffles with three scoops of vanilla ice cream and a sliced banana and maple syrup are impossible to lose an appetite for.

We headed down to Morrisons after that, and we still hadn't had enough of chilling out, so we went to Macdonalds and sat in one of the booths and ordered happy meals and one of the trainee staff came over and talked to us and we gave him our happy meal toys which he said he'd give to his neice. He's really nice, reminded me of Mr Pickwick somehow, and he gave me four little containers of ketchup. I have a huge thing for people who give me ketchup...

Then because we were still in that strange eating mode, we headed down to Lucky Dragon's and had dim sum (!!) I don't know how we managed to talk and laugh all the way from 2 pm to 1130. Quite frightening really, when you think of it. I can imagine what an annoying mum I'd make, always on about something or other, rambling on and on to my auntie friends on the telephone. Fine parent I'll be when I grow up. My kid will probably turn out to be scarily quiet in response to my uh loquacity. And then my grandkid will turn out to be scarily like me for the same reason (idea not original, was brought up by Rhett in Gone with the Wind).

This is going to be my last day of hedonism for a while. Need to get started on my Philosophy essay which is due next week. My lack of concern/ stress whatsoever is starting to bother me, please someone kick my butt and tell me to pursue a life of ascetism.

I actually understood my lecture today on the Fourier Series and Wave Transforms. Sadly, I was oddly delighted and in such a good mood after that. Kinda shows what a big dork of a nerd I am. And the empty-headed rambling shall now cease. Here.

Thoughts

Quick blog while in the library rushing to do my practical. Had lunch in the union today, a baked potato with cheese and chilli. Weird combination I know but I like it, as much as I like Bailey's with milk and rice with cheese.

Anyway I'd ordered my potato from the middle-aged woman and was queuing up behind a slightly plumpish blonde, when this Oriental-ish guy (who was serving people as well) asked me "Watta you wantt?" and I said politely, "I've been served thanks". He looked puzzled and said "Solly?" and I repeated "I've been served". He cocked his head in bewilderment and I said, "I've been suuuuhhhhhved" with an English accent and he said, "Potato?" "Ahh've bin suhhhved, cheeeuhs." Finally comprehension dawned on him and the blonde in front of me shook her head when he left and turned towards me and clucked her tongue in sympathy with an impish smile. I smiled back, but in my heart I felt a little bad for having made fun of my ethnic fellowman.

It's not his fault he can't really speak or understand English, and it's not his fault that he's helpless here in England. He can probably speak English better than most English people can speak Chinese, but hearing his misplaced, halting accent in a predominantly English country makes me feel bewildered and a little annoyed at him as well, even though I know he can't help the way he looks or speaks. And then I start feeling guilty, but then I can't help the way I feel (the annoyance and the bewilderment, and oh heck it the guilt).

Enough ruminating for now, I'd better get on with my practical.

Dinner and Dance

Dinner and Dance tonight, which was a huge success. I thought it all went very well, and everyone was full of praises for our song item which we presented. Bengawan Solo. It was a surprise that it went so well actually, it went much better than our practices because everyone was singing out loud with confidence. I sang the loudest I'd ever sung before, and I knew I wasn't out of tune, which was good, and everyone looked pretty much spellbound by it. And I was really glad. Two weeks of practice late into the night really paid off.

And some people liked my speech, but I think most people just didn't get the point of it. I tried to do a "different" sort of speech this year, and gave a fanciful little speech about the colours of balloons in the room and how they represented the different sorts of people in the world. Most people just looked bored *sigh*, but there were that few who came up to me after the speech and said it was good.

And oh, something so funny happened. Because I was all in a fluster before the Dinner and Dance, I forgot my strapless *_ _ _* for my dress which had spaghetti straps, and I had to cut the straps off my *_ _ _*. It's ok, it was quite an old *_ _ _* anyway, so I don't think anyone noticed! I hope not though, especially not John Uren, the pro-chancellor of Leeds University, whom I had to entertain throughout the dinner! He was surprisingly down-to-earth and extremely easy to talk to, a very good conversationalist. I liked him so much and was so glad I was sat by him! The other guests of honour were very cheerful friendly people as well, but unsurprisingly their spouses were abit more quiet.

Vas was there, and we danced abit after the Dinner and Dance and he walked me home, and I had a nice time talking to him. Carried my huge bag all the way home, with the cashbox and everything in it, so I'm pretty grateful to him.

Am now talking to Andrew on MSN, and he's repeating his list of reasons why I should like Vas (he's a medic, he can cook curry, he's cute, blah blah). And we're talking about our performance today:

Ruthie says: (2:38:03 am)
  
 but apparently everyone thought it was really really good

Ruthie says: (2:38:05 am)

even edwin

Ruthie says: (2:38:08 am)
   
hurhur

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:38:13 am)
   
yea

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:38:17 am)
   
i made a small mistake

Ruthie says: (2:38:20 am)
   
aha

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:38:22 am)
   
haha

Ruthie says: (2:38:23 am)
   
haha

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:38:24 am)
   
he said alvin's face is super gay

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:38:25 am)
   
LOL

Ruthie says: (2:38:27 am)
   
haha

Ruthie says: (2:38:39 am)
   
edwin was laughing at alvin's expression...

Ruthie says: (2:38:41 am)
   
hahahha

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:38:42 am)
   
i'm so glad it went well

Ruthie says: (2:38:46 am)
   
i thot he was laughing at me!

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:38:49 am)
   
really really glad

Ruthie says: (2:38:54 am)
   
when i hit the high notes, he started laughing...

Ruthie says: (2:38:57 am)
 
  i was like, shit

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:39:00 am)
   
hehe

Ruthie says: (2:39:02 am)
   
and then i was like, shite

Ruthie says: (2:39:08 am)
   
but he said it was alvin..

Ruthie says: (2:39:11 am)
   
the way he was singing

Ruthie says: (2:39:14 am)
   
hurhur

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:39:19 am)
  
 haha

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:39:25 am)
   
yea alvin sings a bit funny-ily la

Ruthie says: (2:39:37 am)
   
that's why i always start laughing during practice

Ruthie says: (2:39:43 am)
   
i'm quite proud of the way we sang

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:39:44 am)
  
 hehe

Ruthie says: (2:39:49 am)
   
it was much better than practice

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:40:16 am)
   
really?

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:40:19 am)
   
it wuz quite good lar

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:40:21 am)
   
i admit

Ruthie says: (2:41:08 am)
   
yah

Ruthie says: (2:41:13 am)
   
i thought we all sang well

Ruthie says: (2:41:21 am)
   
i sang the best i've ever sung in my whole lif

Ruthie says: (2:41:24 am)
   
life

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:41:28 am)
   
ego

Ruthie says: (2:41:32 am)
   
it's true

Ruthie says: (2:41:35 am)
   
i mean not that well

Ruthie says: (2:41:41 am)
  
 but the best i've ever sung

Ruthie says: (2:41:43 am)
   
hehe

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:41:52 am)
   
haha

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:41:53 am)
  
 me too i guess

Ruthie says: (2:42:21 am)
   
haha

Ruthie says: (2:42:29 am)
   
i could sense the purity of our voices

hero on the beach - imitation of life says: (2:42:33 am)
   
woah

Ruthie says: (2:43:15 am)

hahahahhahahah

So everything went really really well, and I had a great time.

I'd better haul my butt off to bed, the helium gas and the wine and Hiang Teik's beer are starting to get to my head...

Good night.

A Mixed Day

What's going to follow might be kind of an emotional rant, so if you didn't want to read anything that might potentially be depressing or frivolous bordering on bimbotic, then do stop here and think of me as the laughy intelligent girl.

We had another meeting for the Dinner and Dance today, and apparently there were so many things I had taken for granted which were suddenly unsettled at the last minute, hence incurring extra costs. And most of them were MY fault. So I got really really upset about that.

And then after that we had another little meeting to talk about the cashbox thing (which is already depressing enough don't you think?) and when we went down to the lounge-y part of the Union, who should I see but *name has not been inserted in case search engines wreck havoc with my already havoc-ky life* and another Asian girl sitting there talking. I know he has the right to talk to whoever he wants and talking to someone alone probably doesn't mean anything, but I can't help thinking "Asian fetish" and getting sore. And it kinda hurts when I think back and think that he might have only liked me because of his "fetish" and not because of my wit, humour and charm. *ahem* Anyway, I think it would be pretty small-minded of me to care or to brood over this further.

So I may end up in a lonely 3 room HDB flat and be the grey-haired spinster teacher who carries a bottle of gin everywhere she goes. And die without children and grandchilden, alone, unhonoured and unsung. It's a bitter life isn't it?

And ok, speaking of spinsterhood. I'm going to be sitting at the VIP table for the Dinner and Dance. So Vas is also going to be one of the VIPs for the Dinner and Dance, and I told him he has to get a date (who can get her ticket for half the price) and get back to me by today. So he calls Andrew saying that he wants to bring Adrian as his "date" so can Adrian come at half price? Exasperated, I call him back and say that he's going to be sitting at a VIP table so it would look a little weird if two guys sat at the VIP table as a couple. I'm not anti-gay, but I do know that Vas isn't gay and he's just doing this so that Adrian can save money on his ticket, which was why I was kinda amused but annoyed at the same time!

Anyway, I was talking to Vas when all of a sudden he said, "I know! I could take you!" and I laughed for ages and he said, "You don't have a date, I don't have a date, we'll be sitting at the VIP table, so we might as well go as each other's dates!"

He is very practical.

Anyway, I told him to find someone else, so I think he's sweating now because he doesn't want to give anyone the wrong idea, and it got me thinking about whether I really do want to go with him or not but I think not because if I go with him, we'd need to find another VIP to fill up the table (Vas' absent date, geddit?).

So was discussing everything on MSN with Andrew because Adrian called Andrew and asked if he could get his ticket at half price:

hero on the beach: why don't you go with Vas?

hero on the beach: you like him don't you

Ruthie: siao!

hero on the beach: he's cute and funny

hero on the beach: and he can cook curry

hero on the beach: and you like doctors

Ruthie: siao

hero on the beach:

So anyway, now that I'm on the topic of romantic sagas...

There's a red-haired boy in my biology lecture. One time Gemma and I and Vicky and Becky wanted to sit in his row so I had to ask him to move, and he moved, blushing a little. So we all sat in our seats contentedly and I was sitting in my seat contentedly when Gemma sang, "He loves you!" and then I was the one blushing. We argued back and forth in this vein for a few minutes until the lecture started, and I'm sure he heard us!

So in the next practical, we take rulers for measuring hypocotyl length and I'm next to him and he says, "I think I'm going to take this bad boy!" grinning shyly as he selects a ruler, and I smile and I think he thinks I have a crush on him, but I don't, and it's

Gemma's fault

So let's sing Bengawan Solo and get our minds off the cashbox, dates and all this rubbish which shouldn't be worth worrying about...

Are you going to Scarborough Fair*

Our group was the only group with reasonable results in the practical today, am chuffed especially since a group with a Geordie, a Singaporean and a Chinese would probably expect to have the worst miscommunications. We had to measure the hypocotyls of little seedlings we'd planted last week, and that was pretty much it so I'm off early today instead of having to stay in that insufferable lab until 6. At least today it didn't smell of manure because we were only working with little innocent seedlings planted in cotton wool, bless 'em.

I went to Scarborough on Saturday with Audrey and Andrew because it was Audrey's birthday, and it was one of the best days of my life. We set off at 630 am (far too early in my opinion) and I slept all the way there until we reached at 10. Then we had brunch in a little cafe called the "Secret Garden Cafe". There we sat, three black heads among a sea of white heads (er? bad metaphor), giggling and having a huge meal among the three of us. I giggled foolishly as Andrew opened a packet of sugar and sprinkled some on each teaspoonful of tea he was drinking. Following his example, I sprinkled a little salt on each spoonful of soup and I don't know why, but then it just seemed like the funniest thing in the world, us three ruining the reputation of Asians all over the world (not that it isn't already in shreds).

After that we tried to act tourist-y and walked down to the beach where we contemplated buying spades and a bucket and building sandcastles and I took a couple of pictures of a man walking his dog (without his knowledge!), two black figures against the golden sea. They seemed so innocent somehow, the man striding slowly over the sand and the dog behind wriggling furiously in its efforts to keep up.

Scarborough beach is littered with arcades and we went into a few where I tried playing Dance Dance Revolution against Andrew again (the last time I did that was on a cruise to Paris!). I am so crap at it, got an E as usual, but we had a good laugh and took neoprints (my first neoprint taken outside of Singapore!) and had a little portrait thingy done in the style of Rembrandt. Andrew also played some gopher-bashing game which sent Audrey and I into gales of laughter.

We then went into the lovelist, most surreal ice-cream parlour ever, and had not one but THREE huge ice-creams between the three of us. The first was an ice cream cone more than 30 cm high, the second was a Knickerbocker Glory, and the third was a banana split with pear slices in the ice cream.
Andrew: I want the pear.

Me: Take it la!
Andrew: It's so exotic.
Me: Siao! You're more exotic la!
(Hysterics)

They were all heavenly, but by the time I'd finished the third one I didn't want to look an ice cream in the face EVER again, so we then trooped into a little place which served roast beef and I had roast beef and yorkshire pudding with peas and chips and creamed potatoes and Andrew had roast pork with the same whilst Audrey had buttered scones and looked on at us disgustedly.

We were stuck in the ice cream parlour
for quite a long time because it was snowing and hailing outside, and when we left weak in the knees with laughter I gave a little money to a kindly old man collecting money for a children's hospice who'd been sitting in the corner all the while and watching our antics. "I really wanted to hear the jokes!" he said, "Do come back next time and I'll save the table in the corner for you and call it the Laughing Table!" We were rather embarrassed at that!

On our way home, we played insane word games (Name famous people whose names begin with the last letter of the name of the previous famous person you named).
Audrey: Emily Dickinson
Me: Natalie Portman
Andrew: Neil Armstrong
Audrey: Grace Kelly
Andrew: Yeltsin
Cue loud protests and arguments over whether Yeltsin should be allowed.

Then we did it all over again, only this time with animals.
Andrew: Prawn
Me: Nit
(Protests)
Audrey: Turtle
Andrew: Elephant
Me: Tiger
Audrey: Rat
Andrew: Tiger... Prawn
(Loud protests)

We managed to amuse ourselves in this way for the greater part of two hours, sad isn't it?

In the end we reached Leeds all tired out and Calvin, Andrew, Diane and I had to convince Audrey to go to Calvin's house by a serious of tricks (Calvin: I'm very cold and I need to go home to get my gloves!) because Calvin and Diane had planned a surprise barbecue for Audrey. So there we were barbecuing as snow fell thickly around us. It was all rather surreal. But we had fun especially with Silas and Hao Ern around. Silas kept on imitating Patrick, the Zimbabwean guy in our church, who likes to say "WOOOOOOOurh! WoooooURH!"

Silas: WoooOOooURH! Praise the Lord! WOOOurh!
Hao Ern: WOourh! Woourgh! Hallelujah! Wooourh!

Patrick would proabably have a word or two to say to him.

And the lamb was good. *

I also bit into a crunchy piece of fat...**

Visible spurts of smoke came out of Hao Ern's mouth when he laughed.***

And Silas was acting like a real monkey.***

The next day was church and everyone was visibly knackered, my stomach muscles were actually hurting from having laughed so much and a cyst was developing on my eye from all the unhealthy food. But after church we all went to Roundhay Park
for a bit and I raced Vincent to random trees and raced Silas to random cars and after that we were leaning on Wee Leon's car all panting and smelly and laughing.

So I had a good weekend, hope that this week will be good as well.

*Made Silas and I laugh.

**Made Silas laugh.

***Made me laugh.