As much as it is rough to imagine, I am actually glad that Breaking Bad is ending in this season. You know how a relationship can be glorious yet highly combustible? That’s how I feel about my attraction.
The show bothers me. It bothers me like a lover from whom you cannot get away. You stick around because you had good days and still love the regular ones. On bad days, you really believe you can pick up the mess and move on. It bothered me when Jesse still called him Mr White when he thought he had poisoned Brock. It was a moment of utter distrust and disgust and yet, not a whole lot had changed between them. Awakening.
Perhaps this is it. Our notion of a relationship is defined by the past, by the slate of memory when the bond was first created. It is this illusion that determines the lifespan, sustains it, and pieces things back. And yes, I do realise that it is just a television show. It bothers me, that’s all.
So. If it doesn’t end soon, the intensity of (whatever this is) will probably give me a heart attack.
As the film credits rolled, I headed straight for the tiny bathroom and stared at my reflection for a long time. I still don’t know what came over me.
Maybe it is about the writing. About how it releases the tension. How you can be distanced from the emotions. In my dreams, I can do what I want but yet I don’t realise that I want that. It is this freedom and the happiness. Or maybe it is the possibility of forming an inexplicable affection for someone, even unreal.
Calvin had absolute control over Ruby. Yet he was happiest when she was just herself. She had no control and she didn’t know. Yet it didn’t stop her from being herself. This is perhaps the essence – having control can make you happy with the now, and only that. Having none does not mean you stop developing a semblance of worth.
This is the true and impossible story of my very great love… All the same, I cannot help but write this for her, to tell her “I’m sorry for every word I wrote to change you, I’m sorry for so many things. I couldn’t see you when you were here and, now that you’re gone, I see you everywhere.” One may read this and think it’s magic, but falling in love is an act of magic, so is writing.
For the longest time, I have wanted a ctrl-f function in my life. My real living life. I would be able to activate it each time I misplace something – that pen given to me before I left for UK, the ring for my birthday, the piece of paper where I wrote the email address, the camera, the umbrella, the bracelet, the earphones etc. I want to click/tap/breathe on something that will magically trace and bring me to the lost item.
I may also have watched Minority Report one too many times. Anyway.
Seems like someone out there feels the same pain, or at least know someone who is constantly confused with life’s black hole. At USD49.90, you can now tag your stuff and find it with Bluetooth.
After a user attaches a Stick-N-Find Bluetooth sticker to any object, they can check distance from the object using a smartphone application. In addition, the user can trigger an audible buzzer to hear the sticker as well as turn on a blinking red light housed within the sticker to see the object in the dark.
Of course, I can also learn to be more responsible and careful. Probably not as interesting.
(Credits to @wenjie for pointing it out.)
“How was your flight?”
For the record, I enjoy flying. I like airplane food, even those served in the economy class. I don’t mind the small lavatories and I am still amused by the fact that everything is wrapped in plastic. What I do not like is being asked if I had a good flight. We sit in rows in a metal tube breathing highly compressed air. We get distracted by clouds, inflight movies, bellowing babies, and/or seat inclines. What is there to say about a flight?
When I respond that it is ok, the questioner often sound disappointed (Oh. Just ok?). Why do people do that?
We hit a slight turbulence shortly after reaching cruising level so the hot drinks service was suspended for 10 minutes. My Krisworld entertainment unit worked fine. Did you know they are already showing [the current blockbuster]? I had poached salmon and a warm crab salad, which were very good. Although the pushback was delayed, the captain made up time with strong tailwinds. He also landed the plane very smoothly and in one piece, hardly any bump. Also, no one stole my wallet and laptop and I did not spill anything on myself. I guess that is similar to my last few flight experiences. So yes, it was ok.
This always go through my head and this is probably why I am not the most easy-going person.
“Do you want to deactivate data roaming?”
“Ok, so you don’t want data roaming.”
“No. I meant, no I do not want to deactivate.”
“Ok. Do you realise that if you are not careful, your bill may be very high? You should know that we would not be responsible and we will not waive the charges.”
“Yes, I know.”
Approximately ten minutes later, I received a text saying they have carried out my instruction to deactivate data roaming.
I don’t get myself sometimes. I become so obsessed, so deeply, and for such prolonged period of time. It truncates my attention span, diminishes my interest in routine necessity, and quite literally kills off my relationships. Yet, I do it everyday.
Well, yea. Back to Cabin Pressure.
John Finnemore (@johnfinnemore) writes like my college Literature professor who muses in her head in spectacular rhyme. He sounds like my 25 year old cousin who doesn’t want to leave school. And he looks like my neighbour. Quite serious.
Not that I know other alternatives, this group of actors has developed a chemistry that makes you root for everyone and also falls over at their shortcomings. Much like in Friends. I appreciate the sharp and satirical characterisation through wild imagination for stakes and bets and keen observation and reflection of the human behaviour. As a person who can recite regular cabin addresses from memory, John has truly added a fresh burst of zest to inflight entertainment.
Anyway, I am writing this entry only because I have inevitably left my iPod in the office. Riding out the hour long commute with regular radio broadcast is boring. So very boring.
While I won’t play yellow car or travelling lemon, when I do spy one, I will always feel like I have a secret. And the day I snap out of this, which I will, it would have been a fun ride.
The A&E department is rather unlike hotels and airlines. You do not get special treatment even if you are a regular customer.
It is odd how everyone gets paranoid about their information. Big brother is watching, they say. When you are wheeled into the A&E, you only wish the brother is there to fill in the blanks so that you don’t have to whimper and yell at the same time. And while trying to hold back the vomit. It is not a pretty sight – something I am sure they are used to but not something a commoner enjoys.
As you try your hardest not to pass out from the pain, you grind your tongue each time (7 to be exact) you have to repeat your name, identity number, the time the vomiting started, the time the pain started, the number of times this had happened, and the preceding events to 4 different persons. Yes, 7 times to 4 persons. Someone must not be too keen. When your temperature is taken 3 times within 2 minutes because it is not recorded and you are man-handled to change into the gown despite having no ability to move beyond the fetal position, you wish you will just pass out.
Alas, the needles show themselves. You have grown to love the needles and the clear liquid as you adapt to the patterns of the attacks and treatment. Then the strangest thing happened – It will take about 30 minutes to take effect. You want to roll your eyes to show your disbelief but they are already rolled from all the ‘excitement’. 30 minutes! Of course, it may be an exaggeration. It must be. There is no way they will do this to someone who is on the brink of begging for mercy. No idea for what and from whom but nonetheless. 30 minutes later, you realise it is not a joke.
The Recovery section must have drugs in the air. They expect everyone to take in the stillness sensation and be cosmically at peace. As you wave your arms to grab attention, the stolen glances turn from nonchalant to displeasure. You wonder why. You are giddy because you won’t lie down! I have already called for the doctor! Ah. You are a nuisance. You begin to wonder if the pain and the less than performing drug are causing hallucinations. More minutes passed and the refusal to approach or even offer eye contact drive your pain from the gastro region to the head.
Doctor’s arrival presents first and final relief. The fine veins have always been a problem. 3 bruisers and 2 hours after admission, the intravenous drugs and saline send you into a shallow but much needed sleep. It is one of the days you don’t care that you are sleeping with sweat-soaked hair.
Worst attack ever. Unfortunately, the worst hospital experience too. And mind you, I went through a gastroscopy without sedation. This is the worst.
I miss AH A&E.