You know that something inside of you, Still plays a part in what I do, Always I’m here for you. I think that if we were all we had, That’s more than most people ever have, anyway, Oh anyway, you can stay here

PORTISHEAD IS COMING TO NEW ZEALAND!!! And I think I am going to cry/die a slow and painful (but beautifully painful) emotional death when I hear them on November 10th. This Friday, 9am, I know where I’ll be – logged on, buying 2x tickets to guarantee the boy and I a sentimentally-charged evening in three months’ time – whilst simultaneously trying to finish my composition. According to my Last.fm account, I’ve listened to Portishead 369 times in the past seven days. It’s largely been driven by sleepless nights and the constant urge to dip into the pool of feeling that they bring me.

I really need to get out of this blogging-a-huge-post-once-a-week pattern, but it’s been really hard to break when my week days just seem to run into one another. And then there’s the Sundays, where it feels like my entire week has caught up to me. Today I woke at 1pm and then proceeded to nap the rest of the day, to a soundtrack of TV-noise and cooking going on in the kitchen. I wish my composition assignment that is due 30% of my Arranging & Composition paper would just write itself. And that these songs I’m meant to have memorised by Wednesday would miraculously wire themselves into my brain, electronically. If only.

Stressful rantings aside, this is turning out to be quite a photo-clogged post. Things I have done lately:

My sister was cleaning out the depths of her “stuff in storage” at the back of her wardrobe, and I found some of our old toys. Beloved animals, in varying ages of sentimentally old, or detachedly new.

Earlier this month, Liv took these photos of Flakey and I when I was napping on the couch. I didn’t know these existed until I caught her looking at them a few hours ago!

Isn’t he cute, squished up against me, aww.

A very talented fellow-female-bass-player friend of mine invited me around for dinner the other night. She cooked amazing lamb racks and even made delicious dark chocolate and banana tart that was served hot out of the oven and accompanied by ice cream. Divine, just divine. So this is how amazing she is “before”, and hopefully we’ll soon find out how good her cooking will get as she leaves in two days’ time to attend Le Cordon Bleu in Paris!

The beloved, tucking in my oldest, oldest beloveds.

A “before” shot of my hair. Then I dyed it. And ran out of hair dye. And had to use many, many more bottles.

Tequila shot, courtesy of an old friend.

The “after” colour of my hair. I think once the roots come out I’ll change the colour up again. I don’t know why I haven’t dyed my hair in the years since my blue/purple tints or red streaks phase. Oh wait, that’s because 1/ I’m too lazy and 2/ I’m terrible at dealing with my hair. Thus I never brush it. Ever. And it miraculously looks fine.

Liv and I, outside dear old jazz school at about 3am, after Friday night turned into Saturday morning.

Following this, I froze outside as my feeble knocks on the boy’s door took far too long to wake him up at 4 or 5am as I was seeking a warm bed. And for the sake of my obsessive documentation, the rest of Saturday happened as follows:

– Won my hockey game 2-1, after we were scored against, we worked doubly hard to bring the score back to our side; I didn’t play very well offensively, which isn’t very helpful for a left winger (at one point I got sandwiched by the goalie in front and two defenders slamming into the back of me), but I did better than usual defensively which was good.

– Went to a friend’s house for Hell’s pizza, wedges, Saporo and far too much fizzy drink and ice cream. It was good catching up with everyone, what with all the changes we’ve gone through, yet seeing how little we’ve all changed underneath it all.

– After some debate over the situation I watched the football with the boy in the end, seeing Liverpool off to a clear 2-nil win over Arsenal. Don’t even get me started on how obsessed with Liverpool the boy is… I’ve been a bit of a fickle football watcher over the years, but maybe I’ll settle my alliances in the end. In the meantime, I’m disappointingly glad that I didn’t stay up til 5am watching the All Blacks’ defeat. Damn I’m nervous about the Rugby World Cup. Most especially because it is going to be happening RIGHT HERE, very, very, veeeery soon.

And now, for the playlist. I can’t stop making them, seriously.

1. Rock On – Love Inks
A cover of David Essex’s ’70’s hit… and actually, now that I listen to the original, it’s not bad at all! The song is definitely growing on me (both versions!) but the problem is, I feel like it’s a buildup to essentially nothing. I think the good contrast is that Love Inks’ version is obviously more contemporary, without the cheesy backing instrumentals. I love the bass hook though. Damn, caught out bass-line-lovin again.

2. Atlas – Battles
Bring back the memories, baby. It’s becoming more evident with each and every new playlist what my “3 playlist habits are”. Or perhaps more like “3 music affinities” are. Those being: bass lines, duos, and sentimental connections. The last in particular, for obvious reasons, has lately been especially evident in my subconscious choices of songs that are “relevant” to the boy and I. And I don’t tend to notice until I get to this part of the playlist making process where I write a little about each song. Anyway, about the song itself, it’s old (by that I mean 2007, I think) and it’s what people liked to call “math rock” – a label which I have never understood because there are resemblances to other bands or songs that wouldn’t be classified as “math rock”… so what the heck. Also, this song rather reminds me of Animal Collective, both sonically, and memory-wise.

3. Scared – Albert Hammond, Jr.
I haven’t listened to Hammond’s solo stuff for ages, but had a random urge to, today. And for the first time, this song stuck out to me, although I’m not really sure why. You can definitely hear his distinct Strokes guitar sound on this song, whilst the song itself doesn’t as such. I just think it’s a really sad, sweet song, and the lyrics are so lovely that I crammed some of it into this post’s (very long) title!

4. One More Empty Chair – Blood Red Shoes
I think I’ve discovered what my subliminal theme to this playlist is – sick, sad love songs, or something like that. It started with the last song and runs through for the next few tracks too. I’ve loved this band for years, but I haven’t listened to them very much lately – until this week. It started off a desperate need for some good old familiar music to sing to in the car, and from then on I’ve virtually driven to them all week. 148 plays in the last 7 days, Last.fm tells me. This song is off their album, Fire Like This, that was released last year. What I’ve always loved about them that’s been consistent throughout their backlog of EPs and this album also, is their handful of stylistic distinctions: 1/ they’ve kept their accents, rather than sing in an “Americanised” way; 2/ they have a knack for repeating key lines of lyrics in songs which makes it really memorable, without getting old; 3/ for a duo, they’re pretty melodically and harmonically busy – it’s not just here’s the melody, with guitar and drums underneath – they both take turns singing and harmonising over one another, and I’m sure on the record they’ve dubbed in extra vocal tracks too; 4/ I just like their lyrics. Whilst it’s mainly nothing too deep and terribly simple, it’s the simplicity that makes it all very blunt and snappy – straight to the point. A very precise and painfully relatable point.

5. Gladhander – Stripmall Architecture
The only reason I ever listened to Stripmall Architecture is because Ryan and Rebecca Coseboom are two-thirds of the force that was Halou. I most especially love love love Halou’s “Stonefruit” and “The Ratio of Freckles to Stars”, and wondered what the heck they were up to these days. Apparently making very similar yet very different music. Although it’s no Halou, dreamy vocals are still there, and so are the thoughts and sentiments behind the songs. Isn’t it sweet that they have the same initials, now that they’re married?

6. Be Brave – Love Inks
It’s a cute song! I know that “vox, gat + drum machine” doesn’t sound particularly promising, but just think of what lads with macs have been doing these days, haha. So I’m looking forward to when their new EP comes out, which is soon.

7. Pagan Poetry – Björk
I saw Björk live in 2008, and she absolutely blew my mind. At the time, I had tried really hard to get into her music but just really didn’t know where to start. Call it musical maturity, perhaps, because earlier this evening when a hopefully-soon-to-be-musical-collaborator told me to listen to her Verspertine album, I “got it” straight away. And funnily enough, all the songs that they had said to be their favourite off this album were also the ones I was immediately screaming, screaming in my head and then outwardly raving about. Where the hell were my listening ears, all these times I had on and off tried to listen to Björk?! This song starts off rather Japanese-sounding (to me, anyway; its the instrumentation and the intervals chosen, but I’ll spare the musical analysis), and then goes on in growing intensity until she breaks out with “I love him I love him” repeatedly, followed by the heart-breakingly whispered, almost chanted, “She loves him she loves him” and “This time I’m gonna keep me all to myself/She loves him, she loves him/And he makes me want to hand myself over”. Ahhhhhh! I just die a little in every way. It’s so beautifully written and sang. It’s so subtle yet intensely powerful. And it really fucking hurts listening to this song, because it so precisely portrays a very particular feeling that I have felt and been through, and it’s like a bittersweet punishment to listen to it. Sweet because it is so goddamn beautiful. But bitter because of the half-healed wounds that her voices seemingly just peels at, like a continuous, scrutinising scratch on a scab that’s neglected to heal completely. And I fear one of these times it will come right off. For the record, those other favourite tracks off this album are: Cocoon, Undo, Sun in My Mouth and Unison.

8. The Worst Taste In Music – The Radio Dept.
A dreamy, bittersweet song (note: recurring theme of this playlist, right?!) with lyrics that basically suggests guy likes girl, but so does some other guy, said other-guy happens to have “the worst taste in music”, and if the guy “didn’t know this [he’d] lose it”. Yup, that’s about it. Dreamy, swoony layers over a subtly-relentless beat. Oh what love does.

9. Silence – Portishead
I’ve said it once but I’ll say it again – PORTISHEAD IS COMING TO NEW ZEALAND!!! Okay, I think I can breathe now. I can’t fucking wait. It also means summer holidays for me. This song is just a killer. The boy decided to point out the obvious one day (alright, that might be a bit unfair, I did ask what particular reasons he had for liking this song, because, you know, I like to ask things like that…) and point out the unexpected elements of this song. Like say, the end-

I regret everything I’ve done so far, When the pillars of love are blown apart, I stumble through the rubble and decay

I haven’t disappeared, I’ve just had… a really long, rough week. It’s funny how troubles in certain aspects of one’s life – when they either arise or, more appropriately, are finally blown to the surface – can completely halt your life or suspend it in limbo. I’ve labelled the “elephant in the room” as the “pink elephant in the room” this past week because things have been far too tense and unbearable at home for the most part. Now it’s been downgraded to like… the grocery trip you need to buy and have written a list for, but haven’t attended to for fear of a declined credit card or something. Insert some better metaphor because I haven’t got the brainpower right now.

My one achievement of today was cooking dinner. Okay, so not all of it. The pasta/sauce and veges were largely a joint effort from mum and the sister, but I roasted the chicken drumsticks and wings. Sort of just made up a recipe based on some of my favourite ingredients that I deemed relevant to each other enough. I ended up seasoning them in a concoction of mustard seeds, sun-dried tomatoes, pesto, basil, butter, chicken stock, paprika and lemons. It tasted pretty darn good:

Also, seeing as I’ve been getting some feedback on how people are “always looking for new music”, etc, here’s a few more tracks. Plus, what better therapy is there than sharing and blabbering on about music I love? Seeing as I can’t/won’t discuss the inner, private details of my currently more-turbulent-than-usual life. I haven’t had time to make a proper “playlist” like I usually do, but it’s music I dig, nonetheless:

1. Recharge & Revolt – The Raveonettes
One of my top tracks by one of my top bands. The title of this post comes from this song. It’s also one of my favourites off their latest album, Raven in the Grave, and is truly everything that I love this band for – noise, nostalgia, atmosphere, whispery and surprisingly-close-to-heart lyrics. Heart-melt by them, as always. I’ve finally got the boy to listen to this album as well… he also loves The Raveonettes, but its taken him ages to get around to this album.

2. I Can See Through You – The Horrors
Their newest album was just released last month (I think…?) so I’ve posted a live version. However, there’s a horribly mislabeled album version of it on Youtube here. It kind of feels like The Horrors are aiming closer and closer towards people’s comfort zones and further from obscurity, with each progressing album of theirs. I haven’t had time to pay too much attention to the second half of the album yet, but this song has been my stand-out right from the start. Still sounds like “The Horrors”y in my head, but is catchier than their older stuff, I guess.

3. Here Sometimes – Blonde Redhead
Love them. Love to them. Cry to them. This is another example why.

4. Shadows – Warpaint
Pretty girls with pretty girls with words like pearls. It’s just a lovely, lovely song.

5. Lover I Don’t Have To Love – Bright Eyes
I wrote half a song whilst speeding home from uni listening to this, the week before last. When I got home, the first thing I did was sit down with my notebook and scribbled down as much as I could of the lyrics before I forgot it all. My family thought I was nuts, but I appreciate mum for understanding my frantic ways and doesn’t take my “WAIT! I’m writing something, come back and talk to me later, out, OUT!” personally. I guess she’s used to it. Anyway, I haven’t listened to Bright Eyes for a few years now, but had a sudden urge to, recently… This is just instrumented and written so well, I get hooked on the spiral of it and want the song to never end. I guess that’s why they call it a “hook”, huh? Funny story about that term, my sister accidentally called it “whatdyoucallits, a whip of a song? Whip?!“, to which I burst out laughing and said, “noo Liv, it’s called a hook! Oh my god… whip…”.

6. Late Nineties Bedroom Rock for Missionaries – Broken Social Scene
Turns out this was a particularly nice track for the background music of the boy’s suffering. By that, I mean subjecting him to dinner with my parents and then a few hours worth of my competitiveness in a card game that we’ve played for years and years. I hope he enjoyed it more than mum and I thought he did though. That aside, it’s a pretty sparse song, especially next to the likes of “Almost Crimes” from the same album. Which, actually, I think would be my favourite song by them, not this one. Ah well.

7. Can I – J Mascis
Could only find it off a Youtube playlist, so I hope it comes up with the right track. To be honest, it’s a bloody depressing song, but there’s some kind of weird beauty in the sadness of songs. In fact, I think the most cheerful song on this entire list was by The Horrors, which is saying a lot – especially if anyone listens to their older stuff. Anyway, I just like the twang of guitar and how blatantly sad this song is. I’m usually not into stuff like this so much, stylistically.

Quote of the past week, from a book I greatly want to read because of this excerpt:

“That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it and think how different its course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for a long moment of the long chain of iron of gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on that memorable day.”

– Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

So hold me, you know this wasn’t planned. Hold me close, you’ll hold

Class today was a bit of a joke. I had a clash so got moved into a different combo, which meant that I now only have 1.5hrs of class on Tuesdays. On all the students’ timetables online, it said that our Composition & Arranging class was at 1pm-2.30pm, but according to the teachers’ version of the timetables, class is set for 12pm-1.30pm. I only found out by accident yesterday, whilst trying to sort out the clash with the HOD and the teacher in charge of combo placements; so I ended up txting Oli, the teacher for this paper, to confirm that it was indeed at noon. In the end, only five people (myself included) showed up for class on time, so Oli decided to call it lunch time and to start class at 1pm when everyone else showed up.

Turns out, Student Services Online and the music school admin is more useless than we thought, and they had mucked up the times of the class before and after ours as well! And this is for classes of 3rd years, 2nd years and honours students, all for just one room! Ridiculous.

I ended up going over to Albert Park on the other side of campus to have lunch with the boy since the weather was so lovely outside. Lovely, but freezing. I happened to have everything the boy wanted for lunch so I shared and took a couple of quick snaps before anyone spotted me being touristy. Basically, going anywhere else on/near campus is a novelty for me, since I virtually never venture out of the KMC.

Seeing this fountain today made me think of The Fountainhead. My sister is a fair way through it now, and I read her a chapter earlier tonight as she curled up in bed.

My box of fuit and salami & cheese sandwiches. I bought that Marcs skirt along with the cardigan I was on about yesterday. It’s nice to own and wear a bit of c0lour… I constantly look fit for a funeral, otherwise.

 I was going to post a couple of nice songs but decided against it… I think I’ll post a full playlist along with youtube links later in the week instead. For now, a poem:

“HOme”

O I have allowed too many
visitors
Not guests
into this house that
was not
my            Home

until You
entered and affixed
a light
a heat
into the deep bellies
O’ the ceiling.

i have sat and laid
and chat
with mortal,
ordinary ones.
more than once.
special, they ought
think not,
for what is a host
without a cause?

for empty nights i stared
            at walls
            at all
            at.
i can’t alter the backlog.

you wonder of the
dozen more hands that touched
the door and
wiped the floor
filthy tracks
like thoroughfare
i conduct memories as an
   archival library –
irrelevant, useless, left to dust and rot but
libraries must be kept in order. In check,
in line,
with time.

            You daren’t
            Enquire.
for this HOme was an old house,
      a trodden, (mis)used refused
      house with mislaid boards and
      traps, set just-so;
But this HOme is now
transformed
morphed
crystallised
into well-polished
sparkling form today.

and my Home is no longer open,
            not for sale
            to the highest bidder,
any bidder,
even more handsome than thee–
this once Open HOme is
            Sold
to its old-Owner
whose key to the door
and cellar
Is the Only
One
that Fits,
O.

When I’m yours, I’ll be waiting for the strike of two, Cause we know, There’s something left for me and you to do

My mood since the last time I blogged has been all over the place, but I think I’ve finally found some kind of mental and emotional footing. Semester two started today, and my timetable is a trainwreck waiting to happen. I’m still waiting on final confirmations from the jazz tutors about when exactly my remaining classes will be, since my jazz courses seem to be colliding with one another. Clashing classes is something that isn’t supposed to happen in such a small department!

In remembrance of the holidays that flew past, here are some photos from last week. My sister and I had appointments over the shore, after which we went and got lunch and ice cream. I also bought an amazingly kick-arse leather jacket, but I haven’t taken photos of that yet though.

Eggs benedict with bacon – my favourite.

This photo makes me feel funny about myself. Something about the angle makes me feel like my nose is abnormally large and that my face is a bit warped out of proportion. Nevertheless, I’m totally loving my Marcs mens cardigan that I bought on sale. So warm, so comfy.

Chocolate ice cream- also my favourite. Liv got mango sorbet which is probably in my Top 5.

For someone who loves taking uncalculated, un-thought-out and seemingly blind risks, I am so boring when it comes to food. I’m just such a sucker for food habits! Once I latch onto a favourite from a restaurant or just in form of a flavour, it’s really hard for me to order something different, to try something new… it just feels like I’d be taking a risk at the potential price of missing out on a guaranteed satisfaction!

The boy and I went out for a dinner date on Friday night. (I’ve always wanted to say that, casually, you know… “oh we went on a date”, blah blah, so blasé, like in the moooovies!) It wasn’t for any particular, specified reason – we just both felt like it. It kinda seemed as if we were celebrating something, but I’m not too sure what. Although earlier last week marked the precise date of two years since we met, and in a couple of weeks’ time will be our “6-months” mark… and all of that sounds terribly cheesy and overtly sentimental, but my gosh I’m such a sentimental person. For some very hard-to-explain reasons, the whole “a year/two years since we met” business means a lot to both of us, in the break-your-heart-then-mend-it kind of way, and it’s about the only time I’ve ever seen anyone more sentimental than I, remembering a date better than I.

We went to Sale St and it was amazing. Even though it was really busy and full of lots of people just going out for a drink rather than a meal, it still felt awfully intimate like we were in our own bubble, and everything got slowed down and slightly muted when they came too close. We also did some spying and live commentary of a couple who really sucked – they looked like they were cosying up at first, but then the girl was really keen and the guy looked like he wasn’t feeling it, it was awkward and awful and such a laugh, most especially when they were then joined by three female friends! The only bummer of the evening was the fact that I had actually taken a little camera with me, but then discovered that it didn’t have a memory card, dammit! So you’ll just have to take my word for it that we’re a killer couple, especially when we go out in our leathers and I even wore what Cara calls my “fuck-me boots”. Tasteful ones, of course.

I wrote something earlier this evening and then decided that the things I write would make a nice love-letter-esque collection. If only there was a market for these things, and if I was even willing to sell my inner-most vulnerable self. People, it frustrates me to not know what to do with my writing! I wrote something last week that, according to the boy, sounds like an excerpt out of a novel, but I have no idea what to do with it whatsoever. Actually, I just realised that whenever I publicise or share a piece of writing with anyone, I get a weird sensation akin to that of stepping on stage – like stage fright but in the form of words on paper. And because I never tend to edit my writing and keep it so raw – just like a performance, really… played once and left unchanged forever – it feels like I’m walking around fresh out of bed (if not naked), waiting to be told that all is okay; that there is indeed beauty in my raw, most pure form of self. Isn’t that what we’re all looking for?

And I don’t know who wrote this, but since I didn’t want to post my own writing today, I thought this was lovely:

“I don’t think there is a middle ground for love. Either we are dreaming, or we are drowning. I wouldn’t change a thing, because I’m either dreaming or drowning with you.”

Ohhh, and how could I forget – OH MY GOD HARRY POTTERRRRRRRR. Childhood’s momentary revival is gone once again. AHHHHHH. That is all.

Yeah, the river, it spoke to me, It told me I’m small and I swallowed it down, If I make it at all – I’ll make you want me

Leaving the internet and blogosphere behind for a bit has been good for me. I’ve been doing a lot of major thinking in terms of re-structuring my life, my studies and my future. I still haven’t made a 100% commitment on any decisions yet, but at the moment it looks like I will be stuck at university for quite a few years to come, yet. I guess I’m just going to really try to make whatever I decide work for me. Ahhh. The woes of being multi-faceted, apparently multi-talented and seeking a more academic outlook.

A couple of days ago we had an “AS Music class plus Joel Reunion” roast lunch at Cara’s house. She had bought a few kilos of pork last Sunday and forgot to freeze it, so it went off and she had to re-buy the meat again that morning, causing us to wait until 2.49pm for lunch! All of us had skipped breakfast in anticipation of the roast lunch, so we ended up pigging out on my cupcakes as entree instead. The food (when we finally got to eat) was amazing though, so kudos to Cara for having us all around and being a lovely domesticated host. Poll of the day as to who would produce offspring first went to Cara (be it good or bad), so I guess it’s a good thing that she can do a bloody good roast!

Clockwise from the man in the beanie: Kingi (William), Freddy, Joel and Cara tucked away in the background.

Cara, Colin and Kingi. It’s funny how weird someone’s first name sounds once you get stuck into calling them by their last name.

Typical Joel slouch. With possibly my glass of Lindauer that he nicked and drank! Which I didn’t quite complain about though, after the wine incident last weekend.

The lovely view from Cara’s parents’ house. We had the lunch there instead of at her flat – because it’s much brighter and nicer. Plus it’s plenty more familiar territory to me.

Making sure we eat our greens…

Almost meal time.

I brought up how weird it was that we are all still friends, even though we rarely see each other, let alone everyone at once these days.  Joel (the tall, lanky, token finish-all-the-leftover-food guy, haha) is an absolute all-rounded genius who can write more Kanji characters that I can, who also makes Mechanical Engineering and Chemistry conjoint degrees sound too easy. When he tried to explain to Colin what “mechanical engineering” means, and the possibility of becoming a rocket scientist, we begged that he should become one just because of the endless “you don’t need a rocket scientist to…” jokes that we can pull. He was also the friend who traveled with me to Taiwan and Japan last year, although we really only became friends in 2008 from a mutual friend. That was the same year that Cara and I became friends as well; prior to that she absolutely loathed my guts because of some doped up footballer I dated and then dumped (because he was too stupid…) all the way back in those junior days of high school. She now works full time in freighting (is that what you even call it?) and sings in the Auckland Graduate Choir that often performs with the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra. I don’t really remember how I became friends with Freddy at all asides from music and economics class; he’s the token Asian chick-magnet who has severely buffed up this year and we have to constantly tell him to keep his muscles to himself! I’m also not sure how I befriended Kingi, but I only remember that we bonded over our mutual distaste for our music teachers, growing up in the “ghetto South Auckland” and concert band camps back at college. Lastly, there’s good ol’ Colin. Mister Spanish-speaking gossip extraordinaire law student who is now also studying Chinese and constantly asking me for pingyin of words and phrases he doesn’t know. What a weird and eclectic bunch we are. I’d say it again – I simply don’t know how we’re friends. But that doesn’t matter, right? One or more of them are always there in times of the oddest needs. I think I’ve received late-night rides home from everyone except Kingi. I gave him one once.

So back to that afternoon, our lunch looked like this:



Then Freddy left because he had promised to meet someone at the gym in town, and look at how gleeful the rest of them looked at the sight of dessert! The action shot of them all shaking on some bottle of mousse or trying to get ice cream or meringue is absolutely priceless.

I have to admit: I’m not too keen on Crunchie ice cream. I don’t like Crunchie chocolate bars so the ice cream didn’t go down too well with me at all. Plus I was extremely full. Kingi rebutted my excuse of the ice cream being “urgh yellow!” was “but you are too!” – just priceless! Especially coming from the Pineapple Lump/Crunchie Bar man himself – brown on the outside and yellow on the inside.We are full of racially colourful jokes, aren’t we, literally… courtesy of our high school culture, I’d say.


Then Colin nicked my camera off me and embarked on a mission to photograph me. As usual, I resorted to my face-hiding tactics…



Creepy stalker-like photo by Colin, tehe.

My dessert!!!

In all seriousness though,  I need to lose some pounds and get over this lens-shy habit that I’ve formed in the past couple of years. I don’t know how I ever managed to fare as a child model, but apparently I’m supposed to go back to Taiwan in some months to let some famous photographer shoot me. Good lord. Help! Gulp.

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