..:: Kellog ::..


Sunday, March 30, 2003

So glad I stayed

“Your blog for today should begin with “We couldn’t have planned it any better”.” Quoth Douglas. Today (Saturday) has been to epitome of how a great sunny Saturday should be spent. Scratch that. I couldn’t have planned this entire spring break any better.

Saturday morning, being conveniently in SF already, I barged into Douglas’ place and disturbed his sleep. For weeks I’ve been hearing about the process of installing the custom made sound system for his 911 Carrera (“It looks like a suppository.” That’s how he first described his car and that anal association has stuck with me ever since), which he collected on Friday night, having called me and orgasmically yelling (and I do paraphrase), “OH MY GOD! THIS IS FREAKING AWESOME YA GOTTA LISTEN TO THIS!!”

And Jeeeeeesus Christ…that system is beyond-words awesome. I usually wouldn't share with equal excitement derived from 'boys and their toys' but this one I got as overgrown-kid-squeals-and-giggles excited about the sound, the bass, the songs as Doug did. It is truly awesome beyond description. You usually hear these cars (usually with blackened windows) blasting annoying hip-hop music with a bass so heavy the sound gets muffled and the car starts to rattle. That sucks. This is different. I've never heard such a pure, rich, clear sound with such a heavy bass. AND, as Douglas promised, you'd never hear any negative crappy rap music blaring from this baby. We put on dB’s The Secret Art of Science, the cd I’ve been listening to every night. You have no idea how fuckin' awesome it feels being driven around San Francisco, on a uncharacteristically hot Saturday afternoon, with the car top down, listening to a cd you know and love every second of, with a sheer quality high fidelity system and a driving bass that rocks your entire body. I could go on. (I was about to write down the technical specs (number of watts, yadda yadda) of the system I’ve been hearing about all day but it’d probably end up inaccurate because I was just enjoying the sound. I do remember something like 1100 Watts. But that's all. You are more than welcome to add a footnote in the comments box for that, Douglas. Do your baby some justice.)

The day in running commentary: We managed to get to the post-office on time right before it closed to pick up some certified mail without any usual government agency waits/bumps, went back to grab me a t-shirt (we put me in Doug’s Texas A&M University t-shirt but the irony of a Singaporean Chinese girl in a Texas A&M t-shirt that we thought was obvious was disappointingly unnoticed by everyone that day. Ah well.) and some drinks and food, set off the alarm of a car we drove past from the sheer power of the bass (I’m not kidding), bought some fruits and sodas from Safeway (we stole a plum because we ate it before we got to the checkout counter. I figure we spend so much money at Safeway anyway, the theft was somehow justified), headed down to Nob Hill, almost immediately found a perfect parking spot right beneath the Coit Tower (it is an “issue” to have gotten that parking spot so quickly in Nob Hill apparently. I do not doubt that.), hammocked and sat under the sun with Douglas and his friends at a rooftop with a god-awesome view of SF and the Golden Gate Bridge (pictures were taken), went down to play with the now famed sound system with a bigger audience this time, walked into a shop (where Joe bought a plant, Douglas wanted to buy a freaky framed bat, and I told the old lady in the store, after she commented on how her cat seeks attention, that her pussy likes to be rubbed), grabbed more food to bring to a BBQ party at Fort Mason which kinda reminded me of a frat house for post-college dudes still unwilling to let go of their college life (one of whom makes disparaging comments about hot bodies) which had a cool huge trampoline at the front, lay in the grass where I learnt the proper use of the word “phat”. As we drove back in the sunset (cheesy, but really it was dusk), we listened to more of dB’s cd, with both of us just smiling and nodding to the music, drinking in the feeling of a perfect seamless day where everything just fell right in place.

I bitched about being able to not travel somewhere this spring break because of the Big Move. I’ve always felt obliged somehow to go somewhere whenever I had a vacation, or I’d be wasting my youth and/or college life when I’m supposed to travel and see as much as possible. I went to NYC in my first winter break and Paris in my second. But goddamn, I am having a blast just staying put in Berkeley/San Francisco in my third.

Rewinding a little, I did my usual swim on Thursday afternoon and made sure I did my duty in bringing the requested sourdough baguette to Patrick’s dinner party where he made us a wonderful scrumptious dinner. The night ended with an episode of Seinfeld on tv where “Singapore” was mentioned. Patrick cheered “Yay, Singapore!” and I thumped my fist on my chest, made a peace sign and said “Represent!”. Weird how any mention of Singapore provokes a reaction in me when I hang out with my American friends. (Jimmie has used it wisely. He saw me in the beverage aisle at Safeway one day. Went up behind me without me noticing him, cleared his throat and said loudly to his sister “Gee, I wonder where all the Singaporean drinks are.” My head whipped around instantly.). In the Seinfeld dialogue, some dude says “…unfortunately, the guy retired and moved to Singapore…if you really want, maybe I can contact the guy in Singapore and have him make a photostat of the receipt and send it over.” Now the funny thing about this is that I’ve never heard the word “photostat” being used in America. They always say “photocopy”, so I had assumed that it was just a Singaporean thing to say “photostat”. Go figure why my brain picked up on that stupid detail.

On Friday night, Patrick and I headed down to The Canvas Gallery. The café I’ve always gone to spend the day reading and studying has transformed itself into a very San Franciscan café-slash-bar-slash-art gallery on weekend nights. I have written about the loss of anonymity in San Francisco as I spent more time in the city and meeting new people. Never have I felt it more. Knowing people knowing other people…you find yourself interlaced into this matrix of connections. We spent the night looking at art and hob-nobbing with the “very San Franciscan crowd”. I was initially uncomfortable with the scene, which is basically what I’ve mentioned: hob-nobbers at a café-slash-bar-slash-art gallery. But the core company we sat with was thankfully lovely, warm and nice. Also, I soon fell into my comfy state of amusing myself as an observer instead, my favorite observee of the night being Mr Owen Wilson lookalike who amused me with (a) his extreme perkiness (I’ve never seen anyone describe a park with such zest and vigor. “The TREES…you know…the TREES!” Ya had to be there…we suspected he was probably on some upper.) (b) his dressing/acting completely gay only to find out from his gay friend that we knew was gay that he wasn’t playing on that side of the fence, which floored us because that meant our radar was wayyyy off. Patrick refused to concede to radar failure and insisted that he was “at least” bi. We had a late dinner at Ebisu which had the most exuberant chefs at the sushi bar I’ve ever seen, who judging from the enthusiastic conversations initiated by middle-age ladies, have won themselves a few admirers.

I am beginning to watch San Francisco with a local eye, perhaps in the way I observe Singapore. Now, I still very much possess the easily excitable idealism of a visitor. But when I see 20 people in leotards bending in weird positions and a male instructor standing on a mini-platform in the tightest speedo shorts and a microphone round his ear inside a very publicly situated studio, bright lights, clear glass with the words “Bikram Yoga” in rainbow colors and cartoon fonts scrawled on it, as I did as I walked to 111 Minna on Wed night, I can’t help but laugh hysterically and roll my eyes with the weariness of a local and laugh heartily at how it has become a parody in itself.
Beneath the scoffing and self-deprecation at their granola-yoga-soy filled city however, there is still the astounding sense of goddamn-we-are-lucky-to-be-living-here pride from every San Franciscan I’ve met. They know it, they love it and unabashedly live it up. For all the criticisms I’ve had of the nebulous liberalism and superficial hob-nobbing and materialism of this place, goddamn I love it here.

So glad I stayed (for spring break). So glad I came (2 ½ years ago). Wish I could stay (longer).

It’s gonna be hard to leave.
kellykelly, 3/30/2003 07:11:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Friday, March 28, 2003

Qool Wednesday was slammingly good as expected. I got to meet Spesh! Patrick introduced us as he was walking about unassumingly before his set with that characteristic cute mop of bleach-blond hair. For a guy with such an (expanding) cult following in SF, he's got such a humble and sweet demeanor. So nice to give him a handshake and thank him for his music. The crowd was lapping up everything he gave out. Wonderful.

Sun's out...again. Goddamn this unearthly beautiful Cali weather. Now I have to go out swimming, darn it! Thou shalt not wear stupid too-big one piece swimsuit that left 2 sores at my sides. Helloooo itsy bitsy teeny weeny (blue and orange) polka dot bikini...

Maybe I should study some before Patrick's dinner party tonight. My blog has of late been too concentrated with the insipid ons and abouts of moving out/in and inane talk of fun splish-splashes and very fun clubbing. It's due for an injection of the token college angst, intellectual mind-fucks and irreverent insights on war policies. But ahhhhh fuck that. l'll leave that for post-spring break re-obsession of Tolstoy, The Economist and The Wealth of Nations. For now, I wanna enjoy my last month as a 21 year-old and have "blub blub fun", as Jane says, swimming in spring break frivolity.
kellykelly, 3/28/2003 02:31:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, March 27, 2003

After being used to swimming in my string two-piece, I felt like I was swimming with a bloody sack in my old one-piece swimsuit today. The amount of material weighing me down was about 5 times more than my bikini. It looked like it was cold and cloudy, but the sun came shining happily out, so I now have ugly thick tan-line straps. What a bitch.

But I did 60 laps today in a personal (I'm the world's slowest swimmer) best of 45 minutes. Hurrah!

Strutting around butt-naked in the gym locker room with other butt naked females has been great for my (harshly self-depracating) body image. One realizes that a lot of people do look quite hideous butt-naked. So in an evil Hobbesian way, I feel better about my flaws knowing that other people have it worse. I am not a nice person.
kellykelly, 3/27/2003 05:35:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

Kelly's Realm

Boy, I certainly am obsessed with my own space. I'm loving my new room so freakin' much. It's almost twice as big (maybe even bigger) than my previous room and to have that luxurious amount of space to work with and make your own is just heavenly. Boxes and stuff are still strewn about waiting to be placed but Kelly's Realm is starting to shape up. The essentials are up: my laptop with the internet connection, my kickin' Altec Lansing speakers, my cd-player, my lava lamp and my beautifully comfortable bed. My room is divided into 2 mini-realms: the private space in the far end, where my bed and work desk are, and the welcoming public space near the entrance where the couch is. =D

My spring break is going on wonderfully. Drove down to Menlo Park to visit my brother today. I love hanging out with my brother...because I don't live with him. Heh. We spent the day slouching around, watching/listening to Mitch Hedberg online and watching tv. I finally watched 'Chicken Rice Wars' . I would not have noticed my supposed resemblance to Lum May Yee's character had my brother not vehemently insisted on it. I agree to the small eyes, big ears, weird slouchy posture, skinny arms, flat chest and perpetually-pissed off look. All of which doesn't bode well for me. Ah well. But I actually thought that the film was not bad for a Singaporean movie. It did not make me cringe as much as I was prepared for (bad acting, fake accents). I loved listening to the authentically Singaporean Singlish and Cantonese that only Singaporeans would completely understand without the subtitles. There's something about having a national language so grammatically fucked up that no one else can comprehend you...it's like having your own code that Singaporeans and only Singaporeans can identify with. Given that we are pretty much ahistorical and apolitical, that is quite a useful bond. Loved looking at the hawker center scenes. It did a great job in representing Singapore as it is.

We had dinner at Sushi Maru down in Sunnyvale. The salmon sashimi was the richest and most melt-in-your-mouth I've ever tasted. My brother always knows the best places to go for food. Which is useful for me to know since I hardly ever bother/like to eat out.

All in all a satisfying day that will end with me curled up in bed and looking forward to tomorrow: gym workout, an hour of laps in the pool (have not swam in many days and I misssss my Splish Splash), read abit of Tolstoy or Woolf (have not sat down with a novel for many days and I missssss my books), hit 111 Minna for Qool Wednesdays in the evening where Spesh will indeed be spinning! Oooooooooooo boy-oh-boy-oh-boy...*monkey grin*

Speaking of monkeys...I was informed by good ol' KO that monkeyradio is BAAAACK!!!!!!! Whoohoo!!!!! The best streaming chill trip-hoppy kinda music, for your chilling, reading, studying, pre-sleeping needs...the alternative to friskyradio, which is more for your pre-club-hyping thumping techno mode.

Oh the life of decadent, narcissistic, selfish, and easily attainable self-pleasure! I shall assume that I will possess this supposedly empty pursuit of self-happiness only when I'm young and will evolved into a mature woman with responsibilities other than myself in the future. For now, I will excuse my self-indulgence with I-am-only-young-once. For it is only now that I do not have to worry about shit like fighting jadedness, wrinkles, sagging breasts, cellulite, grey hairs, the lack of marriagable men, and the dilemma of bearing children. That will come later. So why waste now?
kellykelly, 3/26/2003 04:37:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, March 25, 2003


I was completely nuts. After a total of 7 hours of sleep for 2 nights, Satuday moving, Sunday cleaning up everything the whole freaking day and coming back to the new place to set everything up, I was moaning with fatigue as I left for 1015 at 11pm.

But dammit! It was completely worth the effort! Paul Van Dyk rocked the place. I was grinning like a monkey as I walked into the main room where he'd already started spinning. The room was thumpin', flashy lights were flashin', everyone was groovin'. More genuine techno freaks into the music and dance than pick-uppers, which made for a grrreat vibe. Did not leave nor stop moving till the lights came on at almost 5am, which was kinda early for 1015. They usually have another DJ that comes after the headliner that spins till 7-ish. I left feeling like I still wanted more.

It's one of those weekends where in 20 years, as my body starts breaking down on me and I can barely keep awake after 11pm, mellow me will look back with a sigh and a shake of my head...ahhh those were the days where I had the energy to do anything. Till then, I'm gonna make sure I do everything.

Monday was spent in perfect post-clubbing fashion: a wonderful do-nothing day lolling under the sun with Patrick at Dolores Park. What a fabulous start to Spring Break.
kellykelly, 3/25/2003 03:12:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Monday, March 24, 2003

Kelly has left the building

I'm done! And now the final disconnection of my laptop from the internet connection and I'm outta here!
kellykelly, 3/24/2003 09:58:00 am | link | 0 comments |
This is scary. Kellog has had 6 separate hits from the google search "queen latifah's boobs" in the past 2 days. They really must have made a big impression.
kellykelly, 3/24/2003 06:56:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, March 23, 2003

7 years

It's Big Moving Day. I've never been this tired. I'm sitting in my dirty empty old room now. Too tired to return to the new place. I'm just gonna lay a bedsheet on the ground and concuss.

Packing, moving, cleaning, overwhelming.

Amidst the self-pity, my mirror broke in the Uhaul truck today. 7 years of bad luck, onward ho!
kellykelly, 3/23/2003 03:52:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Saturday, March 22, 2003

Looq, ma! I'm packing! Qool!

Having an obsession-of-the-moment always makes my life that much funner. Whether it's Tolstoy, Tiesto, Dave Eggers or the dB's...

I hereby declare Looq to be Kelly's official obession-of-the-moment.

I downloaded all the mp3s available on that site (being the greedy inhaler of all that's my obsession, hence the term 'obsession') and was blasting "We Are Connected" in my half-ass attempt to start packing for Big Moving Day this Saturday. And boy did that make a mundane task fun! I had a mini club in my room, periodically bouncing unconsciously to the music while deciding which clothes to toss out or keep. I'm gonna buy that cd.

And yay! Spesh will be spinning next Wednesday. I wasn't intending to go anywhere for my spring break cos I'd be busy moving out and settling down. Then I thought I'd head down to LA for a bit. Now...I'm thinking have my li'll 'girl-gone-wild' moments here in the city, with PvD on Sunday (with Jerry freakin' Bonham!! the last guy that spun at 111 Minna on Wednesday, who I thought was just fab...geez, can it get any better?), Qool on Wednesday, and 1015/DNA Lounge are bound to have something good going on on Friday and Sat. In between that, nice splish-splashes in the Sun, cosy cafe reading with 'Mrs Dalloway' and 'Middlemarch', rearranging my new room for maximum utility, and I think I'm going to replace that lamp shade hanging in the middle of the room with a red bulb and red shade, so my room will glow in red along with my red lava lamp every night.

That sounds like a lovely spring break, no?

'Copenhagen Express' comes on, thumps on...sun's shining...one hour of class before going swimming before returning to more music and more shitloads of packing before spring break begins...=D
kellykelly, 3/22/2003 12:57:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Friday, March 21, 2003

I swear, this looks like a parody that could have come right out of Saturday Night Live. And when did the bastard add those funky glasses to his look?
kellykelly, 3/21/2003 01:41:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
I have stuff for sale

Click here to view pictures and prices

I have a Uhaul truck 10am-4pm this Sat (Mar 22nd), so if you live anywhere in El Cerrito or Berkeley, I can home deliver it to ya. You'll just have to kiss my feet and proclaim me your queen for eternity.
kellykelly, 3/21/2003 01:47:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Looq Qool!

I finally made it down to the Wednesday Qool party at 111 Minna. It was great...with only a 5 buck cover! Can't beat that with a stick. The stamp on my wrist today says "Passed by Gov't Censor". Perfect for a Singaporean.

I've never seen so many girls picking guys up though. See, I'm all yay for women rights, if men can do it so can we, that kinda thing...but when it comes right down to the basics, I guess I'm a traditional old fud. I see so many (usually drunk) girls obviously making eyes at guys, some blatantly going up to them, etc. Boy it's a new era alright. Equal rights. Hurray, and all.

But as open as I'd like to believe I am, I'm still a conservative fart. Or a normal bitch.
I observe them and can't help but roll my eyes (guiltily because that's bitchy). It's just tacky. It makes them look cheap. And insecure (ok, very bitchy comment: who isn't insecure?) It's not...nice. There's no class (am I propagating the double standard when I still think there is more class to having a guy come up to you without any blatant flirting-by-the-book?). Maybe I'm proud. Maybe I'm a spunkless (according to Jeff who got picked up by a chick tonight: "don't rule out spunk even when she's merely average looking." Which is guy-speak for "yep, she's good for one night only", which kinda proves my main point). Maybe I'm shy. Maybe I'm a bitch. (Likely the latter). I mean, Juliet did flirt outrageously with her Romeo, did she not? I mean, that bitch was the one that instigated the first touch ("you do wrong your hand too much...For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch") AND *gasp*, the first kiss too ("And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss") And we think it romantic. So I should not be so judgemental. This paragraph has reinstated the self-awareness of my bitchiness. Bad girl...bad bad girl.

Still, does not flirting or attempting to take away the fun of just dancing your ass off? How can you freely jump up and down and lose yourself in the music if you're constantly attempting to look sexy or calculating your glace-smile-lookaway stance to perfection? I've learnt the art of zoning out self-consciousness and just enjoying the thumps and beats. It is very liberating...and convenient. No need alcohol, substances or friends to drag out and depend on.

I'm looking forward to Paul Van Dyk this Sunday! Ahhh...it's nice to have no midterms ahead of ya!


Oh, and on another point, as the DJ set was peaking at about 9pm, someone went on stage with a big anti-war sign. There was a protest in SF just a few blocks away at that time. When he waved the thing, everyone cheered "YEEEEAHHH!!!" pumping their fists to the music. I had a very disturbing vision for 5 seconds when I saw the mass of bodies sloshed around together with loud thumping sounds. I could not cheer.
kellykelly, 3/20/2003 03:31:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
And so, while I was standing for 2 hours in line at the DMV, whose inefficiency and backwardness is an unrivaled embarrassment, another branch of the same government began war on Iraq.
kellykelly, 3/20/2003 06:43:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Clay Aiken from American Idol would be a great Mark Cohen in 'Rent'.

He made me wanna listen to my Rent cd that I was obsessed with for most part of year 2000. Oh how I loved that cd! It shall be played on the way to school today! Wheeee!

"To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries
To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese
To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo
To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou
Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion
Creation, vacation
Mucho masturbation"

kellykelly, 3/20/2003 01:30:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Up Yours

At least they are funny, even if they don't seem to realize that the campy irreverence disparages their stance even more.
kellykelly, 3/20/2003 01:05:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

Curling, Gloshing and Privacy

There's something about returning to a good novel after all that physical excitement. Like bringing my soul back. Makes me feel settled and equilbrated.

I curl up in bed, in flannel pjs, with a cup of chamomile tea on the table, and 'Mrs Dalloway', all the stereotypical ingredients of a chick's-night-in (although curling in bed, pjs, tea, and a novel really are my nightly bedtime essentials). The dB's cd is has yet to overstay its welcome and my red lava lamp is dreamily gloshing red splogs about ("gloshing" and "splogs" are made up words that seem to work. Is there a term for made up non-words like that? There should be.).

'Mrs Dalloway' is quite captivating. It's chugs along in its narrative that slows down at times...but it picks up speed and it pounds on gloriously. I'm reading about Miss Kilman vs Clarissa now...and that whole thing about the destructiveness of intrusive love and religion. Clarissa thinks about the "privacy of the soul", a phrase that I underlined and circled feverishly. Not sure yet why exactly that phrase captured my attention. But I like it.
kellykelly, 3/18/2003 03:52:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Weekday Jetlag

The Monday haze I'm experiencing now will henceforth be known in Kellog world as "weekday jetlag". It's a struggle moving through Monday when my body still thinks it's ticking in weekend time-zone.
Calculation: Did not leave 1015 till 4am on Fri night, did not sleep all Saturday night, had a nap from 8am-1pm on Sunday morning, the little splish-splash on Sun late afternoon turned out to be a 50-min 60-lap workout, and 'Chicago' didn't end till around midnight, plus the drive back from the Metreon.

No wonder everything seems to be moving in dull slow-motion right now.

My body's not forgiving me for the over-use.


But I'm masochistically enjoying this. I'd consider my weekends wasted if I did notsuffer the Monday haze. Can't let them weekends loll into just-studying days, or even worse, do-nothing days. They need to be lived. I study my ass off in the weekdays so I can party my ass off in the weekends. That's a good life.
kellykelly, 3/18/2003 04:48:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Monday, March 17, 2003

Razzle, Dazzle, and All That Jazz

Chicago was pure entertainment. I enjoyed the movie. More than the actual musical live, probably because when I watched the musical, I was in the nose-bleed cheapie seats section and the performers were mere dots to me. Renee Zellweger was surprisingly astounding. She irritated me in Jerry Maguire ("You complete me. *rolls eyes*). But she's got this quality that makes her perfect for playing insiduously psychotic chicks--here and in Nurse Betty. She was consistently ruthless in her dance-song scenes. Richard Gere was mediocre in his dance-song scenes, but nice in his comfort zone--the cool suave know-it-all middle-age lawyer character in 'normal' acting scenes. But John C. Reilly has played the exact same role--the loving, loyal, but dull and naive husband that bores his wives into affairs and suicidal thoughts--in 3 recent movies: The Good Girl, The Hours and Chicago. Talk about stereotyping yourself. Catherine Zeta-Jones was good, but paled in comparison to Renee Z, I thought. I used to dislike her plastic-y beauty, but was won over by her acting in 'Traffic'. Queen Latifah's boobs stole her scenes. They weren't huge. They were scarily massive.

I had a ball suspending the element of disbelief, wanted to clap and dance with the people in the movie. I want to watch the musical again the next time I'm in NYC...hell, I'd splurge on a non-nosebleed seat.
kellykelly, 3/17/2003 05:00:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

My brother calls me up and laughs at me just after he watched the Singaporean movie'Chicken Rice War'. He thinks I look and behave exactly like Lum May Yee's character. I do not see the resemblance. I need to borrow the vcd...for narcissistic curiousity, of course.
kellykelly, 3/17/2003 07:54:00 am | link | 0 comments |
"What would a nightclub be without blinky-blinky things?"

Here's a cool thing about the DNA Lounge website that Douglas pointed out to me. They have a behind the scenes page where you learn about all the techie stuff that goes on in the club, the layout, the music and those blinky-blinky things. The owner of the club writes the programs that allow us to stream the music live, etc. Is that not cool? What a vocation being a club owner is. If you are cool, love techno music, have the concrete technical savvy, know exactly what your club-goers want, have musical skills...that job's your calling, Douglas. ;p (I recently heard that the bartender at Wish is the owner of the club too...and I've always thought she was the coolest chick I've seen at work. She spunky, not ditzy, toned, not bulky, works like she's completely enjoying herself, and pretty. I know I'm straight, but damn if I was a guy...Funnily enough, my guy friends don't seem to find her all that hot. And she's an owner that bartends it herself.)

I love asking people what exactly it is they do that justifies their work as a contributary part of the economy. I used to have the impression that jobs were neatly categorized into familiar titles: teacher, doctor, lawyer, architect--all with defined duties. When I ask people what they do, I'm never satisfied with just "oh, I'm an engineer." "So what do you do exactly?" and that's where the conversation becomes really interesting and benefits me more than just applying that conversational skill of asking people about themselves because people always like talking about themselves. I've spoken to a guy at The Canvas Gallery cafe (which is just a beautifully designed place), who was the structural engineer for that very cafe, and what he does is to make sure that what the architect wants is physically feasible and the place doesn't "fall on people's heads". I know an appraiser that basically is hired by insurance companies to go look at your damaged car and give them an estimate of what to give you (I didn't even know there was a law requiring that third-party). Douglas' neighbour who came by for a beer yesterday is an attorney for a bioengineering company. He had a BA in some chemistry/biology major, and got a law degree. So he draws up patents for new products (he did the Viagra one when he worked for Pfeizer), which requires him to know chemical structures, bio-engineering, etc (stuff I know nuts about). You get all these cool little niches of the economy that requires such specific expertise (the glory of Smithian Division of Labor, dearie!) that keeps the whole system chugging along that most people are oblivious to outside of their industry-type.

Anyway, back to the surface...DNA was slammin' last night. Spesh did a great job. I've heard so much about him and he lived up to his hype. He's got really loyal fans in the city, and most of his fans that I talked to last night were all such nice people, just lovin' the groove and dance. I really have to check them out at 111 Minna on Wednesdays.

I'm all aching from the slamming and banging last night. But I still want to go swimming and laugh at the weather service for vehemently warning us of big storms in the weekend when it's almost cloudless now. I'm glad they're wrong.

All in all a stupendously satisfactory weekend, although -no- school work and -no- packing for my big move next Saturday has been done. I'll panic after my li'll splish-splash in the sun.
kellykelly, 3/17/2003 06:27:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Saturday, March 15, 2003

Cure for a Funk

Go to 1015 alone, dance dance dance in 3 frigginly awesome techno, progressive house and house (I shunned the 4th hip-hop pick-up-scene) rooms of complete strangers and those cool laser light thingies for 4 hours. Come home, eat, take good shower, strut around house naked, blast dB's 'The Secret Art of Science'
kellykelly, 3/15/2003 09:44:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Insufferable post below. Do not read.

It's a funky day again. The weather's gloomy and I'm in a funk.

What happens when something that's been a guaranteed source of pleasure ceases to be pleasurable? I A+ed my political science and my economics midterms. I went "oh. yay." and...that's it. Maybe I finally feel what I've known all along: that grades really don't mean shit. Every time I felt Singaporeanly gleeful about an aced examination, there's always a self-checking sense of guilt that went along with that pride...because exam grades are so not a sign of intelligence (on the contrary, because I'm such a risk-averse go-with-the-system kinda sucker, I believe that most of the people who do well are dull suckers as well). And I know where I stand, and I know too many quicker smarter talented awesome genius people to ever feel true satisfaction at my level of intelligence. So what does conscious mediocrity do? -->Unfailing push to succeed in school, because if not, what else is there? Not getting the A would be far worse, even if it's not a measure of worth or intelligence. There's the illogic (is that even a word?) in the whole thing. So that leads to anal perfectionism, and unsatisfied desires+don't-slip-up mentality even with apparent successes that applies to everything else--you can always be smarter, look prettier, be nicer, be sharper, look hotter, be kinder, list goes on.
(even as I'm writing, I know that all of the above could have been re-phrased in a far more eloquent prose to express these sentiments that I'm incapable of)

So I went to the Media Resource library to watch 'Hannah and her sisters' again, hoping that a Woody Allen movie would lift me out of my blues. It made me happy for 1 hour 47 minutes (especially the last 20 minutes, where Mickey gets out of his what-is-the-meaning-of-life funk and discovers while watching an old movie that there's so much to live for).

I chatted on the phone for a while, but even communication with anyone familiar (friends, family) did nothing for me, even irking me more (then making me feel guilty about it).

Funnily enough, it was the transient anonymous connections I experienced today that I enjoyed: the 10 minute interaction with the lady at Public Storage, the 2 minute conversation with the lady that drives that little thing giving people parking tickets (I wanted to know where I can get a street permit), the minute long interaction with credit card phone operater to change my billing address, the second long flash-of-recognition-eye-contact-then-quick-smile with some dude I passed on campus (I think we were in the same class a year ago). I have a readier smile for strangers than loved ones that know me inside out. Just for today. Maybe that's why people have one-night stands. Happy satisfying bonking without a concern for pasts or personalities or futures or feelings; only with a day-after license to shock a girlfriend with an arched eyebrow "I bonked a hottie last night."

I think I'm going to have a warm comforting bowl of oatmeal, then head to Barnes and Nobles, finish 'Mrs Dalloway', walk up and down the aisles of books, maybe go clubbing afterwards and gloriously deafen, numb and lose myself with thumping techno and those cool flashy laser lights things.
kellykelly, 3/15/2003 10:48:00 am | link | 0 comments |
Aww...here's the sketch YK drew. I think it's lovely. (Re: 4th March 2003 entry)

kellykelly, 3/15/2003 12:41:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, March 13, 2003

Allen-ed again

I didn't feel like studying in my 4 hour between-class-break. So I watched Woody Allen's "The Purple Rose of Cairo" instead. (Mia Farrow does have a very "fetching" face. Isn't "fetching" a lovely word? Who wouldn't want to be told that her face is "fetching"?) And also the first half of 'Husbands and Wives' again. Say what you want about Allen, I think his films (most of them anyway) are just wonderful...and 'Purple Rose' belongs to that category of "zany, weird, completely orginal, hilarious, full-of-pathos, completely fantastical" films (as opposed to the other categories of "zany, weird, completely orginal, hilarious, full-of-pathos, completely could-happen-to-you films" (Manhattan, Annie Hall, Husbands and Wives, Hannah and her Sisters, Crime and Misdemeanors) or "zany, weird, completely orginal, hilarious, full-of-pathos, faux-documentary" (Zelig, parts of Husbands and Wives, Celebrity, Deconstructing Harry, which could be in the first category too) films; and then you get the completely slapstick 'Love and Death' and 'Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask'; then you get 'Interiors' which is completely intense, un-funny, and non-Allen, then you get also the other categories of...oh I give up. It's all good. It's all worth watching. It's like picking up a Tolstoy novel/short story...low risk (I hate wasting my time on deciding, then reading/watching, get bored/disappointed, discovering that I've been cheated of my time...like Nick Hornby's "How to be Good"), I am (usually) never disappointed. A Woody Allen flick or a Tolstoy--satisfaction guaranteed.
kellykelly, 3/13/2003 04:17:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

Uclink, my email server, has been down again the entire day. Never have I yearned so much to hear that chirpy Outlook "Dee Doo!"
kellykelly, 3/12/2003 03:43:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Saturday Night Live does this hilarious skit with Ana Gasteyer as Martha Stewart. The repeat telecast on E! had me laughing my ass off when she said

"So join me tomorrow on "Living", when we prepare a Thanksgiving for a new reality. And, as a special burn on the Taliban, I'll wear a bikini top and eat a hot pork sandwich, while I dance to Britney Spears. Freedom. It's a good thing."

It was that eating a pork sandwich that completely cracked me up.

I love Google for giving me this transcript as the first listed hit when I typed "SNL martha stewart bikini top britney spears", key words I remembered from that last line.

So this has been my night: Friends, Friends, Seinfeld, American Idol (my fav who'd probably not win, this awesome dude on American Idol...he was a natural...like a teddy bear too), SNL, Seinfeld. 5 hours of my life. How sinfully enjoyable it was though. We all need to rot our brains once in a while. I shall read 3 pages of Mrs Dalloway tonight to make up for that.
kellykelly, 3/12/2003 03:40:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Life is like, so unfair!

...but oh how I love it when it tips in my favor!

I zoomed to school already late for my 11am class. Got to the parking garage at 11:10 to watch the last spot get taken...the last attendant parking spot (where you parallel park after all the places are already filled and hand the attendants your key) for that matter (that's how ridiculous the parking problem is in Berkeley). 3 other cars are already there suffering the same watch-last-spot-get-taken fate as I was.

Now this is where always being nice and friendly to the carpark attendant (and ok, being a young chick) helps: I catch the eye of an attendant that I knew, and after waiting for the other unfortunate cars to drive off dejectedly (because it's their fault that they're late...ha!), voila! He signals me to an extra spot clearly not meant for the usual clog of valet-parked cars. I get to class only 5 minutes late (classes start 10 minutes after the official time...that's why I'm chronically late. At 11:15, I'm justified being merely 5 not 15 minutes late.), not before profusely thanking kind carpark attendant for his favoritism. I think I have a new best friend...aside from other kind carpark attendant who did the same thing for me previously...
kellykelly, 3/12/2003 05:54:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, March 11, 2003

Oh, by the way, while I thought Norah Jones' 'Don't Know Why' and 'Come Away With Me' were lovely, listening to her entire album which I just downloaded is quite insufferable.
kellykelly, 3/11/2003 01:30:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Random web surfing somehow led to Auguste Rodin's sculpture 'The Kiss'.

How beautiful is this thing? I can't stop looking at it. I want it. And put it in the middle of my room. So it's in my view everyday. Like this beautiful man (how beautiful is this man?) I have conveniently plastered on my wall facing my bed. (Now, now, that phallic tip is merely the top of my lava lamp.)

While I wait for the sculpture to be bought for me, I'll be content having 'The Kiss' as my desktop wallpaper.
kellykelly, 3/11/2003 12:59:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Of Tan and Tomatoes
Nonsense for Procrastination of Midterm Studying

So after 2 days of swimming over the weekend (Blessed are we Bay Area folks...glory to the glorious weather we've been bestowed with!), I realize this morning that I have a really defined patch of white upside-down triangle imprint on my ass that looks almost cartoonish somehow. But I got a nice shade of tan with that. Which would probably fade off by tomorrow. Ah well. I'm trying to find out if one really tans faster underwater than on dry land. I don't know if I've read it somewhere before. It's probably just that swimming laps for an hour seems to pass by faster (for me) than just laying there doing nothing under the sun for an hour. Therefore, that I think one tans faster underwater is simply bullshit.

My new munchie favorite: grape tomatoes...that you can get for only 89c per pound at Berkeley Bowl. Because I go through them so quickly and because Berkeley Bowl shopping is always such a crowded pain, I buy 4-5 pounds of those sweet addictive li'll poppies each time. And I never fail to be incredulously asked at the counter, "What do you do with all those tomatoes?" I eat 'em. Why is that so hard to believe?
kellykelly, 3/11/2003 11:05:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Monday, March 10, 2003

I watched the movie 'The Hours', despite Michelle's blistering review of it.
Maybe that blistering review was one of the reasons why I really enjoyed the movie. Because it made me go in with the lowest of low expectations. I had really wanted to see it just out of curiousity of how a novel that I loved looked, even if it was a bad movie. Apprehensively warned Jeff a few times before hand that it was probably gonna be a bad movie, and asked for forgiveness in advance.

Thought the movie didn't try too hard to stick to the book (sometimes deliberately, like the elevator working for Clarissa in Richard's building; sometimes necessarily, like having her break down instead of Louis), yet I thought it gave a nice reading/interpretation of the book, and it stood out as a lovely movie in its own merit. I don't know if I'd have liked the movie if I haven't read the book, because I was sighing over parts that I loved in the book. But even Mr "I'm-a-ESPN-watchin'-dude-not-into-that-whole-faggish-introspection-shit" (I know he is though he'd deny that vehemently) Jeff admitted that it was a nice movie. The acting, I thought, was solid. But I agree with Michelle that Nicole Kidman looks lovelier with that nose, really.

What struck me most (out of many things) throughout the novel and the movie was strangely enough...Leonard, Virginia's husband...or their relationship for that matter. I'm so attracted by their interaction with each other, both in the novel and in the movie (that's when Nicole Kidman really shone)...two incredibly intelligent individuals, mutually in awe of each other, each respectful as his/her biggest fan/critique, and utterly fond of each other. Anyone that makes (an intelligent) someone write "Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness" must be worth reading about. More Woolf obsession (I'm in the middle of Mrs Dalloway which is awesome. What a lark! What a plunge!).
kellykelly, 3/10/2003 05:21:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, March 09, 2003

Stupid uclink that was shut down for 2 days. That made me realize how irrationally I feel like I need to check my email all the time.

Grrr..."Unfortunately, any mail delivered to your account after about 6:30p.m. Thursday and before 10 a.m. Friday is lost".
Therefore I am not responsible for any unreplied mail that was sent to me. So do re-send all your gushing fan mails, marriage proposals, inheritence notices, etc that was sent and then lost during that time frame.

kellykelly, 3/09/2003 10:54:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Saturday, March 08, 2003

If "philoi" becomes really familiar to you in a few months, remember, you heard it here first.
kellykelly, 3/08/2003 03:17:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, March 06, 2003

I have an urge to buy flowers

Michael Cunningham's 'The Hours' has been prominently displayed in bookstores for some time now because of the movie. I've deliberately by-passed it many times, maybe due to the highly unjustified and stupid stigma I attach to any book with a movie poster (or 'Oprah's Book Club' sticker) on its cover (I do have a tendency to judge books by their covers). After reading Michelle's "luminous" review of the book however (Nice thing about the blogger realm is that it's a hub of recommendations from people you have chosen to trust...I have to admit here Michelle, your site has been a convenient and trustworthy source for my "To read/hear lists"), I put aside my silly bias and picked it up when I passed it again at Barnes & Nobles. I could not put it down. "Luminous" is a great adjective for it. So is "beautiful". Or "fluid"...ok, stupid term...but that book somehow flows. I'm lame at describing stuff I love without sounding too gushy. But this novel is just glorious to plonk down for hours and hours at a cafe...to listen Everything But the Girl's 'Back to Mine' cd to...to be obsessed about...to get sucked into.

For the next couple of days, I lived in that wonderful addictive high of waiting for my next fix, the next time I'd get to continue reading the book. I feet-tap my way through classes, then eagerly park my ass at some cafe to read for the next 4 hours. Yes, the ass does hurt after the first 90 minutes. But I've had enough practice with cheek-alternations, and improvised positions (leg propped up on second chair to ease weight off ass, legs crossed to ditto, etc).

I remember being a silly 8 year-old girl pretending to like stamp-collecting, or sticker-collecting, just like my friends did, so that I could say "I have a hobby", and have that mock-eagerness I'd make believe (don't underestimate a kid's ability to pretend) was real everytime I got a new stamp/sticker. Ooo, new stamp! Yay! My heart then made a forced leap of joy. My day was happier, I said to myself. Because my hobby makes me so happy. And I had a 'focus' of some kind, something to aim for (more stamps! more stickers!), something to look forward to. But I never realized till now that I've always had that hobby that gave my life that "more" I sought...more meaning, more focus, more...fun. It was just that books were just so omnipresent in my life that I ironically took it for granted. I read before I slept (every night, without fail. I could not go to sleep without reading at least a page or two), while eating lunch, while waiting for the bus, while in the bus, while taking a shit, while anytime everywhere. Funny how I already had that lovely companion, yet I was completely oblivious to that and was always searching for something else to occupy me, which ended up never satisfying me nor holding my attention for long. Contrivance never lasts.

Told Jeff on the phone this evening "I wanna read it as slowly as possible. I don't want it to end!". Thankfully, our conversation delayed me; sadly, I finished the book in the next hour (so much for wanting to stretch it out as long as possible). I had the urge to buy flowers after I closed the book. The irrational thought passed (actually the flower stand across the road closed before I could get there) and I headed to Black Oak Books to see if I could grab Woolf's 'Mrs Dalloway' (naturally).

While being distracted instead by the Dave Eggers edited 'The Best American Nonrequired Reading', there was a boy, probably around 13 years-old, chubby, ruddy, bright-eyed, hovering around the display table of new books. He was "looking for something", he tells his grandfather. 5 minutes later, he runs off, grabs his grandfather excitedly and said "That's what I was looking for!" He picks up a book and reads this specific sentence from the back cover "Meet Jake, the lead dog in a team of malamutes, who, as it happens, converses in fluent Yiddish." They laughed. They bought the book. How funny that he had probably come across some book that had some dog that spoke "fluent Yiddish" and he came specifically to look for that very book, not remembering anything but the dog that spoke fluent Yiddish! How nice that he got so excited by that funny detail. By the way, I had to look at that book later. It's called 'Uncle Boris in the Yukon: and Other Shaggy Dog Stories' by some Daniel Pinkwater. Maybe I'll read it someday.

In the same bookstore, there was a man with his baby strapped around his chest walking up and down the aisles. When he walked by the second time, he had his baby zipped up cozily under his fleece vest jacket, so all you can see was this man with a big lump on his chest with 2 tiny feet sticking out underneath. I wanted my camera with me so bad.
kellykelly, 3/06/2003 03:26:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, March 05, 2003

Sketched and Etched

Talented Yong Kuan drew a picture of me while I was unaware, studying for my polisci midterm tmrw at Bechtel library today. He did such a great job! I only wish I looked as lovely in real life as in that sketch. I hope to get a scan of it or take a digital picture of it soon.

I've been drawn 2 other times in my life. (3 if you count the big-head cartoon caricature I got in Thailand. Gave some dude a photograph, some money and returned an hour later to collect that very weird drawing. Doesn't count cos it had no significance to me whatsoever).

First was when I was about 3 years old by my mother. Oh I love that one. She totally caught that natural scowl I have perpetually on my face even today. I've been accused too many times of looking pissed off, when it's just my god-given natural expression. I can't walk around grinning like an idiot all the time, can I? Ah well. It is a really life-like colored portrait that she got framed. I used to have it displayed until I accidently broke the glass on the frame. Mummy, don't ever throw that away! I'll re-frame it when I get back.

Second time was of me at Pete's Coffee on 4th street. I was yakking on the phone for over an hour with Alex. And Jane (shit! I miss our cafe-hanging-out-chatting-with-the-pretext-of-studying sessions!) drew me (without my knowledge again) sitting in the sun, facing to the side, legs propped up on the still. I got so excited seeing that sketch. I wanted to show Alex that very sketch of me talking to him on the phone. I wonder if she still has it in her notebook?

There's something so sweet and awesome about having someone draw you. The geography of you is scrutinized for that period of time, and the interpretation of the moment and the expression is to be revealed by the artist himself. Then, the juxtaposition of photographic representation and interpretation is captured, right there. Must be incredibly intense having someone do a serious drawing of you *insert 'Titanic' music here*...NUDE. Good lord. New fantasy. I once had an offer while reading a book at Cody's Bookstore by some guy who said he was an artist and wanted to draw me. A likely lame pick-up line. But if he was any cuter, hell yeah! *insert romantic fantasy of intense fiery passionate fling with sexy artist with piercing (no romantic fantasy would be complete without the adjective "piercing") eyes here*.
kellykelly, 3/05/2003 11:21:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

Reservations...and more reservations

This very clever satire about the anti-war movement nicely encapsulates my reservations about the anti-war movement.

Now, I'm still a gutless, undecided fence-sitter on this issue.
But I suddenly found it really unnerving that The Economist can so unreservedly push for war, and then write an objective, almost nonchalent, report about how the theatre/art gallery/cafe/mosque-or-church (yes, they do have these familiar-to-us places of community there! shock! horror!) goers living in Baghdad are nervously preparing for the impending war. In the last paragraph, they pose a chilling question "Do Iraqis see life after death?". Geez...couldn't they be...less...cold-blooded about it?

I've always been a fan of the Economist. But I'm beginning to have reservations about the way they present their opinions.

And yet, their arguments have been convincingly sound, solid, practical, realistic and un-idealistic.

I don't know how to be anything but a fence-sitter right now.
kellykelly, 3/04/2003 03:46:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
Open Sesame

Added li'll ditty that allows you to choose whether you want to open links on this site in a new browser. I personally like them to. I'm trying to learn how to change the script such that the box is checked on default. Anyone knows?
kellykelly, 3/04/2003 06:46:00 am | link | 0 comments |
I am...Human Capital.

So after a delicious do-nothing Sunday of fart/burp counts (final score: 9 and 22 respectively) and hot veins (refer to Mar 2nd posts), I actually managed to oversleep my 10am class. Then I surf to Dave Barry's blog and crack myself up (in near disbelief at the sheer enjoyment I derive from it) with this link.
Yep. This is why my sponsor is investing $150,000 in me.
I now need to spend the rest of the day moled up in the library to justify my existence.
kellykelly, 3/04/2003 03:58:00 am | link | 0 comments |

Monday, March 03, 2003

No, scratch that last post.

The real Highlight of My Do-Nothing Sunday:

This picture.
It scares me how sexy I think this picture is. The body is just perfect.
But it's that faint vein thing going on down south, right above his unbuttoned white pants, that induced these impure impure thoughts I should be spanked for ...good lord! *shudder*
And it's Justin Timberlake.
What's wrong with me?
I blame Herb Ritts.
15 year-old girls should not be looking at this.
kellykelly, 3/03/2003 03:44:00 pm | link | 0 comments |
The Highlight of My Do-Nothing Sunday:

MSN chat with brother, and later girlfriend Sharon:

KelCereaLover says:
i totally didn't do anything today man...such a SLOB
Ke-winn says:
oh well
Ke-winn says:
I'm keeping count of my burps and farts since we finished dinner at 8.15 pm
Ke-winn says:
tally so far:
Ke-winn says:
19 burps
KelCereaLover says:
oh my god!
Ke-winn says:
7 farts
Ke-winn says:
KelCereaLover says:
that's going on my blog!
Ke-winn says:
eh don't leh
Ke-winn says:
shy lah
KelCereaLover says:
no it's going on! hahahahahha!
Ke-winn says:
hi kelly.this is Sharon here...you should definitely put it on your blog...I need some sympathy here...
Ke-winn says:
i keep telling your bro that he's not normal..but he keeps saying no lah...everyone's like that..I just don't know that's all..but do you think you know anyone..anyone at all who's a close competition to him?That's how this whole counting his number of burps and farts thing started..he said that he read somewhere that the average person farts 14 times a day...and I said he does that in 3 hours.
KelCereaLover says:
Nope. He's something else alright. You lucked out, Sharon!
kellykelly, 3/03/2003 02:13:00 pm | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, March 02, 2003

Wish and Stanford, the Lattice.

I was at 'Wish' on Friday night and saw this tall bald dude that I keep seeing at the DJ events I go to, at 1015, Ruby Skye, etc. He's not the only one. After 2 years here, I'm increasingly experiencing these flashes of recognition...at clubs, cafes, the gym, classes, bookstores I frequent. It's inevitable, obviously. Repeated interactions that come from discrete shared interests make me part of the "lattice" Dave Eggers writes in 'AHWOSG'. "The lattice is the connective tissue...is everyone I have ever known...the people who come to use or we come to...our friends, their friends, their friend, who knows who know who". With time, I see, am seen; I observe, am observed; I listen, am heard; then I absorb and get absorbed.

But it's disconcerting to see the comforting anonymity in San Francisco begin to melt. See, I'd expect it in tiny li'll Singapore, where a day out hardly ends without bumping into someone you know/recognize. Going to Zouk is a socializing event, where everyone in there is separated by no more than 2 degrees of separation. That makes me adore the anonymity of San Francisco (or any foreign city). You go out, you interact with people, you'll (if you choose) never see them again, and they'd not know someone who knows someone you know...anonymity. It's a different ballgame.

I do love developing and being a part of a community. But I want my community on my own terms. I just want to control it. Stupid. As if I can authorize who becomes connected to my lattice like how I authorize contacts on ICQ. Maybe my apprehension is derived from me being spoiled by the abundance of, or scared by the saturation of that uncontrollable tangled stifling network where everyone knows someone you know in Singapore.

But speaking of communities, I sought out my ol' community of ex-RJC (high school) classmates at Stanford today...and what a lovely lovely (double term for emphasis and to express condition of weather and condition of my mood) day it was! Fuck that whole Berkeley-Stanford rivalry/jealousy thing. I think Stanford is a lovely place. A prestigious institution, with beautiful architecture with none of that hoity-toity feel I get in other prestigious institution. Melikes tons! Met Cheryl, whose repressed-by-Singapore hippie-ness has been emancipated and blossomed by college life; discovered that Sihong's mastery at chess is proving very advantageous indeed in his social life; found out that "a nice smile, pretty eyes" (aww...right.) aren't really what turns him on (after watching J. Lo on SNL); and realized that Weiqing's a really good girlfriend to talk girl-talk with. It was really a great lovely day all around, doing that simple college-y thing of hanging out with pals in dorms, eating dorm food (I actually like it...the salad bars always have that economies of scale variety I love), slacking, talking, that I've actually not really been doing much of recently.

I'm hoping this Snapfish album link would work for anyone who wants to view it. Just a simple registration would get you through.
kellykelly, 3/02/2003 07:53:00 pm | link | 0 comments |