I was walking around a place I used to hang out at before I left for London, but which I hadn't been to in a couple of years. The weather was pretty nice and I was walking around there by myself when I noticed that my right hand was almost itching to be held. It's just that one of my happier memories of being around there was when I was still with my first boyfriend. And lately, I've begun to noice that whenever I'm lonely and stressed, I'd be wishing for someone to near, just holding my hand. It's one of the most innocent and tender signs of affection that anyone could display, and for me, possibly my favourite.

Don't get me wrong. While there are certainly more passionate things that you could do - kissing, for instance - holding hands has a certain charm. It reminds me of the time during my high-school romance, when we were all young and innocent and clumsily fumbling our way through relationships, wondering when the question of 'officiality' would be popped. And once we started holding hands, we never really let go... until the break up. And even after that, during times when he knew I was upset, he'd reach over to hold my hand and just give it a tender squeeze, in that one gesture, just showing all the love that he still had for me. Because of those memories, there'll always be a soft spot in my heart for holding hands. It's the most sincere thing that you could do to show your loved one that you care.

Why do I say that? Well, to me, kissing and sex aren't necessarily signs of love. In this mixed up world of ours, they're just signs of lust, and even more, they can and have been used to deceive. You can do these things erroneously when you're drunk or when you're stoned. You don't reach out to hold someone's hand when you've had one too many drinks, that's for certain! Furthermore, sometimes, when you're in the swept away by passion, you stop thinking. And for someone like me who values logic and rationality greatly, getting driven by lust and not actually acknowledging what you're doing while you're doing it isn't exactly something I consider good.

So call me old-fashioned and conservative, but I'd opt for the innocent gesture of hand-holding as a guy's way of expressing his feelings over the more aggressive kiss... though not all the time, obviously! But definitely for the first few dates!

*sighs* I've had this tiny crush on my colleague since the day I met him, and being the eminently sensible girl that I am, I straight-out decided that that wouldn't do. For one thing, we work in the same company, and for another, we're currently in direct competition with each other. And given what I do know of him so far, he's not quite my type. He has a rather loud laugh and he's a bit too... local for me. And he's younger, which is a sure guarantee that he's definitely not mature enough for me! And yet, despite all that, I haven't managed to eradicate the crush!

And for the record, no, no hot Valentine's dates, not even a remotely cool one. I did get flowers from two separate people though, so thanks ;)

I just watched Chicago - the movie, yesterday and man, was it a blast! The show turned out much better than I had expected, and I'd love to see it again! The musical numbers were fantastic, even though Renee Zellweger, despite putting in a sterling performance, still doesn't strike me as the ideal person to be cast for the role of Roxie Hart. Queen Latifah, as Momma, on the other hand, was hilarious! I loved every single minute of it, even when smarmy Richard Gere was on the screen! And I loved it for reminding me how much I love jazz and what I've missed out by cutting it out of my life since I graduated!

So I've spent part of today just singing - not just songs from Chicago, but from all my favourite musicals. I know I don't have a professional's voice, but one thing I do know for sure, is that when no one is listening, I sing pretty darn well, and I do have quite a fine voice. I just wish I could sing that well in front of people!

I'm not an NBA fan but watching last weekend's All-Star shows was truly amazing. I loved watching the the marquee shows on Friday night, EST, which consisted of the Three Point Shooting competition and the Rising Stars Slam Dunk competition. Watching Peja Stojakovic score an unbelievable 22 out of 30 (edited - found out it was 30, not 25) three points shots was breathtaking and I was simply just soaking in the raw talent that was the Slam Dunk contest. Of course, Michael Jordan's last All-Star game was a definite must-see. Despite the fact that I have a lot of work to do, I just took two hours out of my schedule to watch half of the game I taped while I was at work. Naturally, that's one of the joys of procrastination...

I'm currently listening to Sander Kleinenberg's set at Dance Department on the 11th of January earlier this year. While listening to an MP3 in no way can capture both the atmosphere of a live set and the quality of a club's sound system, I have to admit that his mixing and choice of music really isn't half-bad.

I just feel so out of the loop since I've returned home. I may have broadband so downloading's still an option, but without my cherished British clubbing mags, I feel so lost...

Today was one of those rare days when I was feeling sexy - and no, not because I happened to be wearing sexy lingerie. Au contraire, my hair just seemed to be styled in a way that made me look pretty - the kind of pretty that everyone sees, and not the kind which good friends say you look simply because they're your friends. And no, my hair doesn't do that very often. Unfortunately for me, I didn't go out that much today, so I didn't have the opportunity to make heads turn. And I've just washed my hair, so au revoir, mon modèle de cheveux. I guess it's back to Plain Jane mode for the next couple of months.

Hahaha!

While waiting at the bus stop today after a particularly fiendish test, I found myself staring in fascinating at the succession of fairy lights festooned across the road, along with the myriad decorations lined up alongside the river. I had forgotten about that local tradition, not having exactly ever entrenched myself in local culture, but after having had such a hectic week after the festive break, those lights, which I would have thought of as tacky and cheap at some other more cynical period in my life, brightened up my day immensely. That, along with unexpectedly getting to hear New Order's Bizarre Love Triangle blared out at great volume while on my way back to the office after lunch, were the high points of today.

Valentine's Day approaches, with its inevitable flood of downright commercialised expressions of love. Friends know that this day is one of my most hated in the year - whether or not I'm attached. If you're alone, then of course, it's easy to tell why you hate that day. If you're with someone, however, there's just so much pressure on you to do something, anything at all, to show that you love your significant other - something that I kind of scoff at, and yet yearn for. I'm not one who needs my 'other half' to give me gifts, but having received precious few over the years, I guess I'm just feeling deprived.

I recall a time when my cousin, her best friend and I were all seated in a car and looking wistfully after a couple. We all had the same envious reactions despite our different circumstances; my cousin had never had a boyfriend, my cousin's best friend's boyfriend was in another city, and I was still getting over my first ex. I found it a little amusing at first that despite the fact that we were all different, we all still yearned to be part of a couple. At the time, I told my cousin she was lucky. Feeling envious because you want that something which you've never had a chance to experience, in my mind, was much better than having been through that experience and then being plunged back into loneliness. She, naturally, took a different view - that of the "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" school of thought.

Yesterday night, during my customary local male-bashing tirade, my friend asked me what made the ex so different from the rest of them, given that he's pretty similar to well, the local males who went to my university in my year.

I did answer that question seriously, as is my wont, but surprisingly didn't state the most obvious differentiating factor (his looks). I somehow instinctively came up with an answer that the rest could see was straight from the heart, and yet didn't offend any of them. I said that he wasn't shy, unlike the guys back here, and most importantly, he made me laugh more than anyone else ever has.

Note to self: Getting sloshed on home-made Sangria is not the best possible idea on the night just before going back to work.

Still, it felt good before having to wake up.

I invited a couple of friends over last night just to catch up on things and ended up having a truckload of fun. Snacking on tortilla chips, salsa, cheese and chorizo - a decidedly unfestive feast, I must add - it was just a lot of fun. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, nor have I been that happy in a while. It was the perfect remedy for my mild bout of depression over the last few days, as well as the bad cold I was nursing for the whole day.

I wasn't the only one getting plastered, possibly just the most obvious. Take this as a case in point: when a friend suggested that it was the perfect time to ask me compromising questions (owing to my inability to concentrate for longer than 30 seconds), another inebriated friend said, "Yeah! That game - Truth or Death!"

Heh. (And for those of you who aren't clear why that was so funny, it's because he really meant Truth or Dare.)

I went out by myself on Sunday night, and ended up bringing a very cute, very shaggable guy back home in the wee hours of the morning. We sat for a while and chilled for two hours just talking rubbish and that's all that happened.

You know why? Because that guy with the smouldering good looks just happened to be my cousin.

Damn.

On to other things. John Creamer was good: very tribal and lots of percussion - just the way I like it. I would have stayed for the whole night but unfortunately, my cousin didn't like the music and wanted to leave early. I really do have to find men who can last just as long as I can.

At least someone thinks so. I mean, I never did. Much. :P




-Perfect- You're the perfect girlfriend. Which
means you're rare or that you cheated :P You're
the kind of chick that can hang out with your
boyfriend's friends and be silly. You don't
care about presents or about going to fancy
placed. Hell, just hang out. You're just happy
being around your boyfriend.


What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
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I really like this:


Tomboy


What's your sexual appeal?
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But what is it with all the manga?

While walking with my parents this afternoon, a man who walked past my father turned his head and belched directly into my dad's face. Oh, my father's reaction was priceless.

I was laughing so hard until I cried.

It's the little things in life that make me happy.

Damn. I wish I could go for this.

But then again, it's already difficult enough to get rid of the existing fat on my thighs and butt so maybe it's a blessing in disguise... though it sure doesn't seem like it right now!

It's been raining for the whole of today again. And I'm actually cold, ironically enough, given that I spent three years in London.

The CD player in my hi-fi has been out of commission for the past four years. Today, bombarded by the sounds of little kids running around downstairs, I dragged out my Discman, with the batteries running on its last legs, and threw in Basement Jaxx's Rooty. Man, that felt good. The Jaxx's music is filled with so much irreverence and playfulness, it simply cannot fail to cheer anyone up. Coupled with cheeky sexual undertones (or maybe undertones is too subtle a word for a tune titled Get Me Off), their music is just simply amazing. I don't care that some danceheads don't regard them as proper dance music. Their songs never fail to get me onto the floor, and that's more than enough in my book.

Even better than Rooty was Fatboy Slim's You've Come A Long Way, Baby. Now that is a classic anthem that deserves to be high on anyone's list of defining dance albums. Not only was it the album that introduced me to the world of clubbing, it seduced me to the point that from being a technophobe, I am now a fully-fledged 'ard clubber. My favourite tune from that album (and possibly my favourite Fatboy Slim tune ever) is Gangsta' Trippin'. It's just so nonsensically happy and so darn catchy. Being the rock fan that I am, his brand of dance music really does get mah thang shakin'. My favourite remix of his is Satisfaction Skank. That is a truly amazing tune.

Moving on swiftly from dance to pop, despite the fact that I despise boybands (and other such mushy pop) on general principle, I have to say that Enrique Iglesias's Hero is a very nice song. It's sweet, gentle and melodic, filled with the appropriate level of yearning and not too bad lyrics. It's made it onto my list of great love songs (which, among other things, includes Dido's Thank You and Celine Dion's Because You Loved Me) and is currently one of my songs of the moment. It also helps that there's a sentimental memory invoked whenever I listen to the song - it's the song that I danced to with the ex at a ball last year.

I guess maybe it's the song of the moment right now because it's really been just over a year since everything started, or should I say re-started, between us two - when we went clubbing to see Fatboy Slim. That was a fun night and was sadly to be unmatched for over ten months until I went to see the great Trancemeister, Van Dyk. I always was a sucker for anniversaries, but then I do seem to live more in the past than in the present.

Hopefully, tonight's clubbing event is going to be somewhere near that standard.

Why do you keep calling me "hon", "darling" and "baby"? It's not that I mind... am I reading way more into it than I ought to be? I don't think I am. It's not that I read anything into those words at all. It's just that when you say those words, they have this... effect on me. Oh damn it! Why am I so damn pathetic when it comes to you?

When you're around, life just appears to be so much brighter and happier. And then, there's the part of me that frantically trying to beat that other part of me over the head with a shovel, trying so hard to eradicate that part that just so loves seeing you...

I am over you. Really. It's just... I don't know.

I'm not too fond of visiting my relatives but the one comfort I do derive from seeing them is their constant remarks that I've grown into a very pretty girl.

Not having had any male attention at all since I came home, that does help my bruised self-esteem a little.

Despite the fact that yesterday was the prelude to a long weekend, I just spent a large part of the night looking for someone to speak to. I was in one of those moods where I wanted to be alone, but at the same time, badly needed to speak to someone. It was raining very heavily for the whole of yesterday and that affected my mood even more since I tend to be happier when the weather's nice.

There've been a fair number of tearful moments since I've started work. The tough girl that I yearn to be would be ashamed of how easily I've broken down, but at the same time, that small little outlet sometimes helps me to get through the day. I tend to be pretty open with my friends, sharing with them my joys and occasional concerns, but I would never let them know if anything has been getting me down. It's always been a bad trait of mine to keep my problems bottled up inside.

Just realised that for last year, it was a blessing - of sorts - to be with someone who didn't come from where I came from, and wasn't brought up in the same manner - it made it so much easier to be open and explain what other people around here might dismiss as stupid and ludicrous issues. However, it did also mean that there were some matters which he couldn't quite get why they worried me so much - and that was of course, more than a little frustrating.

I do wonder how I became so damn neurotic. My parents did a pretty decent job in raising me and I've received a top notch education. Given all that, the only reasonable conclusion I can come to is that the reason why I'm so messed up is because I'm naturally so. It's not a reassuring inference.

Sigh. Happy New Year.

I was watching MTV this afternoon when a whole host of British artistes came on - Radiohead, Ash, Pulp, Super Furry Animals - and it reminded me of how much better British bands are than the American ones. There are a lot more British bands I like and can tolerate than there are American ones. For instance, I love Radiohead, Coldplay and New Order and like Ash, Stereophonics and Blur. It just always seems as though the Americans are the ones who rule the world. I mean, everyone's always trying to break into the American market. No one ever seems to try making it big in Europe.

Apropos of nothing, while watching the music video for Radiohead's Fake Plastic Trees, I just thought that Thom Yorke's signficant other must either be extremely cheerful and bubbly in order to survive his music - or downright depressed by now.