Friday, December 28, 2007


I got my first exposure to freezing weather and temperature of below zero a couple of days ago but disregard the fact that I was wearing 4 tops, 2 bottoms and 2 pairs of socks plus the scarf, hat, gloves and looking like an oversize wrapped dumpling, I still manage to have a hell of a time. I must say I enjoy the cold in a weird way and love the visible foggy breath that I exhaled right in front of me.

Though as cold as it might be, I do not enjoy the dryness of the air for the humidity is so low that I had to put on lip balm every alternate hour. Not to mention my cracking lips and nose with skin peeling off by themselves. This is what they call, dry cold, not wet cold. If it's wet, it would snow.

Yes, was slightly disappointed as it didn't snow throughout the entire week there. At least not enough to be actually called snowing, first morning there, we were welcomed with some white sandy stuff on the ground, as it snowed a little while we were sleeping. But still, no white Christmas.

Another extraordinary thing about the cold weather was that you can stare directly at the sun, or just watch it like its the moon. In fact, I didn't even realise it was the sun because it is unusual for it to behave like that, to be so visible and friendly to the naked eye. If it wasn't for the missing rabbit shape on the moon, I couldn't have tell the difference between the sun and the moon in broad day light. With morning that is slightly colder, the sun is visible without its mighty glare for it only gets warmer around mid day and looking at it directly feels perfectly fine. In fact, it is rather interesting.

When I first got there, I was quite taken aback by the cold that my fingers were numb to the extent that it felt like frozen sausage even under my thick woolly gloves. It is difficult to keep them flexible but important or else they would turn purple, then black. But of course it got better after you get used to it. Not to mention we venture into the city a couple of days later after being in the country.

Also had to get used to numb face, cold cheeks and the soothing hot soup and not to mention the extra calories one had to divulge in order to deal with the weather. Okay, so perhaps its just another reason for me to put on extra weight but still, its a good one isn't it.?

We were told that temperature from -2 to 2 degree Celsius is considered a normal winter day. In fact it is hardly unusual for them. Because we were lucky that there wasn't any strong wind, just some light breeze or else we would have experienced an actual winter iced day.

And I love eating ice-cream there for it never melts and trust me, it doesn't even matter even if its cold.


Monday, December 17, 2007


There was this article the other day about 16 words stories that won a literature trip prize. It's interesting in how short these stories are leaving ample amount of space for imagination.

I think its the non existent of words confirmation for the rest of the story that makes it extraordinary. The ambiguity of what might happen and to what extent one could stretch the story to. The freedom to spin it the way you desire, unlimited without any restriction, the furthest you can ever reach.

Some would say it causes the story to hang half way, incomplete. But I guess this is what makes it different, for it doesn't require the author to finish writing the story in order to tell one. With the limited amount of story told, it allows the reader to broaden its mind to complete or in most case, continue the story to a number of different version each reader preferred.

It's a win-win situation for both writer and reader. The anxiety of what might follow to the rest of those short few words carries uncertainty that deepens our curiosity so much. And most importantly, at the end of the night you are given the option to feed that little cat according to your preference without actually killing it.

Safe feeding.

Which then it occurs to me that, perhaps I should start posting stories of short short words. Make it seven. I know its weird but when I was kid, Seven is always my favourite digit number. And at that age, I didn't knew how special this number was.

I didn't like it because there are seven days in a week, or because there's seven colours in the rainbow or like what the bible tells me, God rested on the seventh day after creating earth. Nor because of seven is considered as the luckiest number.

To me, seven is simply the only digit from one to nine with two syllabus, and that's what attracted me to favour it above the rest. And I guess its time to be posting some seven words stories.


Friday, December 14, 2007

Fark's sake

Most people agree that ranting is a healthy way of releasing yourself from frustration but on the expense of the listener. But what if there's no listener.?

It isn't half bad. Unless of course you're talking to yourself, its therapeutic and no harm done and you get better. Why not?

But sometimes, you don't. Things get worse and you felt like the world is tumbling down and why the fuck that you're so unfortunate to get stuck in such an abominable state.

Like hell care.

And I need to rant.


Monday, December 03, 2007

Skip this post

If you're not prepared to see the evil side of me, do as the title says to avoid a nasty reading as this is a rather vulgar post. Yes, I'm not a saint and do own a feisty temper and I chose to unleash it here in the form of speech rather than actual action to anything else with a beating heart and the ability to have emotions and feel pain.

Why the hell does people choose to have their ultimate phone chat inside a toilet stall of a public restroom.? Especially if there's gazillion of people waiting outside with their bladder about to explode or when a kid decided to pee on the floor instead? And why didn't the little darling with her curly pig tails discharge right outside the door of the fucking lady who love the smell of stool so much that she rather share her phone conversation with everyone else in a stinking lavatory full of people with wrinkled up nose instead of coming out after her umpteenth time of flushing the toilet.? I say she's lucky because the kid's mom still have some manners, instead of the bitch who love herself so much that she doesn't want to share her cubicle with anyone else and rather lock herself inside while disregard the fact she might be suffocating after she finally left it. Pity, but sorry I just don't have extra capacity in my heart to sympathize a world class idiot.