After The Deluge
So the worst is over -- all right, that is a damned lie. ("An odious, damned lie; upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie. She false with Cassio! -- did thou say Cassio?") The worst is, of course, the results release but that is a tragedy for another time. And as for being false with Cassio, well, the only Cassio I have been false with is my Casio calculator.
Now I am lounging indolently on the sofas at the Esplanade library cafe, having sent out an email to my EE supervisor and awaiting an irate (but perfectly eloquent!) response in return. Sera has fallen asleep next to me, having acquired my sweater as a blanket by virtue of ... looking melancholic and cute. There is a drained pot of chamomile tea (thank the Gods for natural sedatives) on the table and David Hare plays scattered around. The last is my doing, I fear. In any case, this is perfectly peaceful and companiable and I can imagine living like this, oh yes. Unfortunately, Sera has repeatedly rejected my marriage proposals ("... but it's legal in Canada!") so I am resigned to mere platonic (as opposed to domestic) arrangements.
You might wonder if the exams have turned me into a maudling fool. That may perhaps be true. Or this strange tranquility (as opposed to the usual strain of hysterical lunacy to which I trust, dear readers, you have become accustomed) may be a product of the chamomile tea. Moreso the latter, I think.
This indicates continuity from the exam week, which was a constant search for The Knockout Blow, ie. the ideal sedative. Actually, for somebody who does not take exams as seriously as she should (please refer to previous post), you might wonder why I need sedatives. Unfortunately, I have a hyperactive inner-monologue that is only amplified by the exam month because I actually reach home at reasonable hours! Before the sun sets! And there are no errands or assignments to worry about and one is gloriously, gloriously free. And since I am no longer perpetually exhausted or distracted and am stuck, alone, with my internal monologue for extended periods of time... I realise that, wow, am I a difficult person to co-exist with. (So this is how you guys feel all the time, huh?) I was, at some point, contemplating beating my brain repeatedly with a large stick but it struck me that I might actually, maybe, just perhaps, need my brain for the exams.
For those of you looking to de-stress, let me introduce you to some methods I attempted. You may gauge the level of success yourself.
1. Chant mantras.
I was sitting with Yam and Sera at Dover MRT and rambling and gesturing hysterically as I am wont to do when, out of nowhere, this nice Chinese lady comes up to me and begins to speak.
LADY: (prattles in rapid dialect-accented Mandarin)
PING: (incomprehension)
LADY: (repeats herself, smiling, and trots off peaceably)
SERA: Oh, I get it! She was telling you not to get frustrated and to chant Buddhist sutras to calm yourself.
PING: But I wasn't frustrated. I was talking about American sitcoms!
[...]
PING: Hang on. My Mother is a New Age hippie. I *know* Buddhist mantras, dammit, I have to listen to Tibetan Buddhist chants in the car rides to school. What was that one about the diamond and the lotus again?
PING: I.. can't.. remember. Oh my god, I have no New Age Hippie cred!
[Some time later]
PING: Okay, guys, don't panic! Say it with me: Om Mani Padme Hum.
DARYL, SERA, PING: (chorus) Om Mani Padme Huuuummmmm....
BEWILDERED PASSERBYS: (give funny looks at bunch of Methodist schoolchildren sitting on floor of Dover MRT)
PING: (sagely) We are not concerned by your judgmental looks, O Child People. We are at peace. Our jewels are in their lotuses.
2. Write plays chronicling your suffering.
PING: Man, you should see my History notes. They make no sense. They've got all these weird snide comments scribbled everywhere, like "Hitler's domestic policies were not entirely kosher... hahaha, irony".
SUNNO: (contemplative) Well, we could put that in a play but we'd get shot in our sleep.
PING: Not unless we fly away to the Palestinian territories before that! Controversy does wonders for box office sales, you know. It would be box office blitzkrieg!
SUNNO: ... Palestine?! I can see it now. We could do touching Middle East-based Ho with Heart plays and give them names like 'The Gaza Strip (I have always relied on the kindness of wealthy foreign men)'.
3. Throw scenes.
Post-Honours day emceeing
JONNY: You sound like a guy over the mike!
PING: ... what do you mean I sound like a guy.
PING: (goes around interrogating people for their opinion)
SHAW SHAW: You sound like a smoker. You know, low and husky. Tsk tsk, what have you been doing...
SIR: Why so husky?
SAM: Oh, Ping has a bedroom voice! (At this point, I interject with a "WHY ARE YOU PAWING AT MY ARM? GET THEE BEHIND ME!")
LLOYD: No. But my standards are low.
PING: Jonny, I do not sound like a guy!
JONNY: (polite but obviously lacking in self-preservation instincts) I'm sorry, I'm sorry -- but you do!
BUNCH OF JONNY'S FRIENDS: (gather round to watch their hapless friend fend off a hysterical woman)
PING: (espies a familiar face in circle of friends) Juzzy. Tell me, do I sound like a guy over the mike?
JUZZY: (obviously has self-preservation instincts) No. Of course not.
PING: Thank you, Juzzy. (whirls on Jonny) See? SEE? Now, Jonathan, you get out and don't come back until you learn how to talk to a woman! (walks off, pauses, turns) Bye, Juzzy!
[After the debacle]
JONNY: Yes, Ping. Even your scant femininity causes me to die.
4. Listen to sad songs
ZI YANG: (glancing at Ping's history notes) What is this... "There was a need for a Brave New Tsar, hahaha"
PING: Okay, I have no idea what I was talking about.
[Five minutes later]
PING: Okay, I have a page-full of notes that has lots of important looking scribbles on it but I really don't know what I was talking about! ... I need to listen to soothing music. "Be thou my vision, Oh Lord of my Heart~"
ZI YANG: Oh my god. Hang on, the last time.. was it you who was obssessing over Be Thou My Vision?
PING: "Naught be all else to me, save that Thou aaaart!"
ZI YANG: YES IT WAS YOU
PING: (listening to Billy Joel's 'And So It Goes', which is a really sad song, by the way)
CONCERNED STUDYMATE: (leaning over) Ping, are you tearing over (peers at notes) aerial bombing?
So, what do you guys do to de-stress? Enact scenes from vintage movies in public places? Have competitions seeing who can spring the most cliches into innocent conversations? Totter around Ikea because you want to be unfaithful to your couch? Not that I have contemplated doing any of the above, aha aha!
Now I am lounging indolently on the sofas at the Esplanade library cafe, having sent out an email to my EE supervisor and awaiting an irate (but perfectly eloquent!) response in return. Sera has fallen asleep next to me, having acquired my sweater as a blanket by virtue of ... looking melancholic and cute. There is a drained pot of chamomile tea (thank the Gods for natural sedatives) on the table and David Hare plays scattered around. The last is my doing, I fear. In any case, this is perfectly peaceful and companiable and I can imagine living like this, oh yes. Unfortunately, Sera has repeatedly rejected my marriage proposals ("... but it's legal in Canada!") so I am resigned to mere platonic (as opposed to domestic) arrangements.
You might wonder if the exams have turned me into a maudling fool. That may perhaps be true. Or this strange tranquility (as opposed to the usual strain of hysterical lunacy to which I trust, dear readers, you have become accustomed) may be a product of the chamomile tea. Moreso the latter, I think.
This indicates continuity from the exam week, which was a constant search for The Knockout Blow, ie. the ideal sedative. Actually, for somebody who does not take exams as seriously as she should (please refer to previous post), you might wonder why I need sedatives. Unfortunately, I have a hyperactive inner-monologue that is only amplified by the exam month because I actually reach home at reasonable hours! Before the sun sets! And there are no errands or assignments to worry about and one is gloriously, gloriously free. And since I am no longer perpetually exhausted or distracted and am stuck, alone, with my internal monologue for extended periods of time... I realise that, wow, am I a difficult person to co-exist with. (So this is how you guys feel all the time, huh?) I was, at some point, contemplating beating my brain repeatedly with a large stick but it struck me that I might actually, maybe, just perhaps, need my brain for the exams.
For those of you looking to de-stress, let me introduce you to some methods I attempted. You may gauge the level of success yourself.
1. Chant mantras.
I was sitting with Yam and Sera at Dover MRT and rambling and gesturing hysterically as I am wont to do when, out of nowhere, this nice Chinese lady comes up to me and begins to speak.
LADY: (prattles in rapid dialect-accented Mandarin)
PING: (incomprehension)
LADY: (repeats herself, smiling, and trots off peaceably)
SERA: Oh, I get it! She was telling you not to get frustrated and to chant Buddhist sutras to calm yourself.
PING: But I wasn't frustrated. I was talking about American sitcoms!
[...]
PING: Hang on. My Mother is a New Age hippie. I *know* Buddhist mantras, dammit, I have to listen to Tibetan Buddhist chants in the car rides to school. What was that one about the diamond and the lotus again?
PING: I.. can't.. remember. Oh my god, I have no New Age Hippie cred!
[Some time later]
PING: Okay, guys, don't panic! Say it with me: Om Mani Padme Hum.
DARYL, SERA, PING: (chorus) Om Mani Padme Huuuummmmm....
BEWILDERED PASSERBYS: (give funny looks at bunch of Methodist schoolchildren sitting on floor of Dover MRT)
PING: (sagely) We are not concerned by your judgmental looks, O Child People. We are at peace. Our jewels are in their lotuses.
2. Write plays chronicling your suffering.
PING: Man, you should see my History notes. They make no sense. They've got all these weird snide comments scribbled everywhere, like "Hitler's domestic policies were not entirely kosher... hahaha, irony".
SUNNO: (contemplative) Well, we could put that in a play but we'd get shot in our sleep.
PING: Not unless we fly away to the Palestinian territories before that! Controversy does wonders for box office sales, you know. It would be box office blitzkrieg!
SUNNO: ... Palestine?! I can see it now. We could do touching Middle East-based Ho with Heart plays and give them names like 'The Gaza Strip (I have always relied on the kindness of wealthy foreign men)'.
3. Throw scenes.
Post-Honours day emceeing
JONNY: You sound like a guy over the mike!
PING: ... what do you mean I sound like a guy.
PING: (goes around interrogating people for their opinion)
SHAW SHAW: You sound like a smoker. You know, low and husky. Tsk tsk, what have you been doing...
SIR: Why so husky?
SAM: Oh, Ping has a bedroom voice! (At this point, I interject with a "WHY ARE YOU PAWING AT MY ARM? GET THEE BEHIND ME!")
LLOYD: No. But my standards are low.
PING: Jonny, I do not sound like a guy!
JONNY: (polite but obviously lacking in self-preservation instincts) I'm sorry, I'm sorry -- but you do!
BUNCH OF JONNY'S FRIENDS: (gather round to watch their hapless friend fend off a hysterical woman)
PING: (espies a familiar face in circle of friends) Juzzy. Tell me, do I sound like a guy over the mike?
JUZZY: (obviously has self-preservation instincts) No. Of course not.
PING: Thank you, Juzzy. (whirls on Jonny) See? SEE? Now, Jonathan, you get out and don't come back until you learn how to talk to a woman! (walks off, pauses, turns) Bye, Juzzy!
[After the debacle]
JONNY: Yes, Ping. Even your scant femininity causes me to die.
4. Listen to sad songs
ZI YANG: (glancing at Ping's history notes) What is this... "There was a need for a Brave New Tsar, hahaha"
PING: Okay, I have no idea what I was talking about.
[Five minutes later]
PING: Okay, I have a page-full of notes that has lots of important looking scribbles on it but I really don't know what I was talking about! ... I need to listen to soothing music. "Be thou my vision, Oh Lord of my Heart~"
ZI YANG: Oh my god. Hang on, the last time.. was it you who was obssessing over Be Thou My Vision?
PING: "Naught be all else to me, save that Thou aaaart!"
ZI YANG: YES IT WAS YOU
PING: (listening to Billy Joel's 'And So It Goes', which is a really sad song, by the way)
CONCERNED STUDYMATE: (leaning over) Ping, are you tearing over (peers at notes) aerial bombing?
So, what do you guys do to de-stress? Enact scenes from vintage movies in public places? Have competitions seeing who can spring the most cliches into innocent conversations? Totter around Ikea because you want to be unfaithful to your couch? Not that I have contemplated doing any of the above, aha aha!