This post doesn't read as well as it should...
I woke up today and cursed vehemently at the alarm clock. But after enjoying Thursday and Friday off coupled with the weekend, this reaction to being brought so rudely back down to earth was, of course, perfectly justified. Watched Alex Pagulayan beat Chang Pei Wei (or, “Pee Wee Chang”, as the ang mohs insisted) in the World Pool Championships final last night. He looked dead and buried at 11-2 down (I think it was that great a margin), but somehow came back to win 17-15.
Went down to NUS on Thursday for the first time in a year for Pat’s commencement in the capacity of boyfriend/photographer/porter/pay-for-everythinger. The place has changed so much. From a tattered old school, it has now morphed into a tattered old school with cranes and soil heaps all over the place. Charming.
So there was Pat in her convocation gown looking distinctly pregnant on this proud day. But then again, there were a few hundred just as pregnant females, and males for that matter, cluttering up the UCC. I often wonder why universities have to play this cruel joke on their students. Met her parents for the first time. “You look like a secondary school student.” said her father. Gah. Anyway, that comment aside, they seem like nice, easy-going people. Phew.
As with every commencement, an endless orgy of phototaking ensues. The sense in this escapes me but I admit that I was guilty of this as well last year. So you end up with the usual stand-in-front-of-plants-and-strike-a-pose photo. Or the look-at-me-holding-my-cert photo. Or the lets-try-to-look-as-happy-as-we-can pose. And who can forget the classic mortar-boards-in-the-air-while-surrounding-people-run-for-cover shot. Such is the mettle on which the future of our nation will be built.
Watched King Arthur. It was entertaining enough though perhaps not as emotionally gripping as it could have been. Clive Owen seriously looks like Christian Vieri to me when he’s looking grim. When he’s speaking, he reminds me of Nicholas Cage. Merlin… I don’t think catapults count as magic.
Stepped into NTU for the first time in as long as I can remember on Friday in the capacity of beast of burden. That’s not to say that Pat herself wasn’t fully laden as well though. The thing about NTU is that while it has a beautiful sprawling campus, it is exactly this sprawling quality that makes it such a pain in the ass. After you’ve spent half your life just getting there, you still have to navigate long winding roads up and down to God knows where. And I thought Kent Ridge was bad. At least what we had in NUS were just one or two hills. What NTU offers is a veritable mountain range. Thankfully, we had the sense to take a cab. Her hostel looks cosy enough in the old school type of way. A few dim yellow lights and it’d be perfect.
My writing seems rather disjointed today. I wonder why. Inbox says mail. Mail says two solution sheets need to be done. Copywriter says damn you all.
Went down to NUS on Thursday for the first time in a year for Pat’s commencement in the capacity of boyfriend/photographer/porter/pay-for-everythinger. The place has changed so much. From a tattered old school, it has now morphed into a tattered old school with cranes and soil heaps all over the place. Charming.
So there was Pat in her convocation gown looking distinctly pregnant on this proud day. But then again, there were a few hundred just as pregnant females, and males for that matter, cluttering up the UCC. I often wonder why universities have to play this cruel joke on their students. Met her parents for the first time. “You look like a secondary school student.” said her father. Gah. Anyway, that comment aside, they seem like nice, easy-going people. Phew.
As with every commencement, an endless orgy of phototaking ensues. The sense in this escapes me but I admit that I was guilty of this as well last year. So you end up with the usual stand-in-front-of-plants-and-strike-a-pose photo. Or the look-at-me-holding-my-cert photo. Or the lets-try-to-look-as-happy-as-we-can pose. And who can forget the classic mortar-boards-in-the-air-while-surrounding-people-run-for-cover shot. Such is the mettle on which the future of our nation will be built.
Watched King Arthur. It was entertaining enough though perhaps not as emotionally gripping as it could have been. Clive Owen seriously looks like Christian Vieri to me when he’s looking grim. When he’s speaking, he reminds me of Nicholas Cage. Merlin… I don’t think catapults count as magic.
Stepped into NTU for the first time in as long as I can remember on Friday in the capacity of beast of burden. That’s not to say that Pat herself wasn’t fully laden as well though. The thing about NTU is that while it has a beautiful sprawling campus, it is exactly this sprawling quality that makes it such a pain in the ass. After you’ve spent half your life just getting there, you still have to navigate long winding roads up and down to God knows where. And I thought Kent Ridge was bad. At least what we had in NUS were just one or two hills. What NTU offers is a veritable mountain range. Thankfully, we had the sense to take a cab. Her hostel looks cosy enough in the old school type of way. A few dim yellow lights and it’d be perfect.
My writing seems rather disjointed today. I wonder why. Inbox says mail. Mail says two solution sheets need to be done. Copywriter says damn you all.
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