Thursday, June 29, 2006

Dancing bee

You scored as Jive. You are Jive! Peppy and silly, you are, lets face it, a little ridiculous. But that’s ok cuz you’re super fun! You drive fast, talk fast, live fast, and sleep fast. You’re really fast! You are always having a good time, even when people kick you in the shins. You could use a little decaf.













Viennese Waltz








Which ballroom dance are you?
created with

Chot-to sumimasen! Watashi wo kurisuchen des.

I am REALLY excited about going to Japan. I think I was dreaming in Japanese last night... I have to say, the day I understand a Japanese conversation in full will be a very happy day indeed. One more week and then unless I can find time to blog in Japan, you won't hear from me for another 3 weeks! 3 glorious weeks of ramen, yakisoba, terriyaki everything, sashimi, onsens (nude spas) and mangga. Not forgetting mission work. Absolutely amazing. Can't wait to get cracking. I have to say, I don't know how friendly immigration will be if I were to announce that I was coming to tell people about Jesus so perhaps until I actually get through the immigration barriers, I should keep mum about what we plan to do there. Speaking of keeping mum, my sponsored silence went very well. I was not allowed to laugh, whine, whinge, humm or talk but universal bodily functions set out to embarrass such as hiccups, coughs and sneezes were allowed. I had dinner with a few people on the same night (within the 24 hours I wasn't allowed to speak) and greeted everyone at the door with a big HELLO sign in pink and tried several times to have conversations with people but those petered out because I took too long to (write my) answer. In the end I sat in a corner and ate.

Elena will be leaving the (EDS) house this week and thus shall come to a close an era of wackiness and recorded silly sayings. We shall no longer be called EDS (Elena, Deborah, Sarah) but DJS (Deborah, Johanna, Sarah). I thought of JDS but that sounds either like a sports brand or one of the freehouse pubs run by J.D Whetherspoon and SJD sounds like a variation of STD. I'll have a ball of a time redecorating and moving furniture over summer...

I've met up with my Japanese advisors who have advised me not to evangelise people when in a nude spa. I think I might turn my brain off and go on auto-pilot if I did have to embrace the experience of communal bathing. Talk about extreme. The Japanese are extreme so when in Rome... My trustworthy advisors have also advised me to look nonchalent when earthquakes occur. The standard rule of thumb is if no one is running scared, act like nothing happened and continue drinking your soup whilst trying to keep it from lapping all over you. Just imagine that a very large truck has just rumbled by. If I run, they'll know I'm a tourist.

Friday, June 23, 2006

A day in the pub

Not quite a whole day, but long enough. See title. My butt was starting to wear the cushion down. Knight's Templar was the choice venue and I had an all-day-breakfast at 2pm. Was so hungry, I even ate the tomato. Well, the half of it that was on the plate. There was nothing left to make food faces out of to show the waitress, not even a pea. that was because they didn't serve any peas. David B and Elena had this sinister game of who had points for Deborah saying silly things. Unfortunately, I am sad to say, that I did not disappoint. Elena has even set up a site on Facebook called the Debibo School of Logic, which basically means all the illogical things my brain churns up and my mouth spits out. We watched the football match between Italy and Czech Republic and snippets of the Ghana-USA match on digital TV in the pub. I remember hearing one of the radio deejays mention that there were no good looking Italian footballers this year but personally, a few stood out. We had had a theological conversation earlier and snatches of it were still in my mind which I was mulling over (that's the way I retain stuff - I retain stuff???) when someone on the screen caught my attention. Without thinking (as you do) I blurted, "He looks like Jesus!" He was Italian, chiselled and called Paolo. It wouldn't even have fitted in with Dan Brown's ludicrous claims of Jesus migrating to France, spouting, "Cest la vie."

Even now writing this, a thousand things are running through my head. Wait. Possibly only 5 things. But they're big and current and have future potential for more ponderings. Should I divulge? Hmm, maybe a little. At what cost should my zeal continue? And what should I count as cost in light of the subject of my zeal? I don't want to expose the inner contents of my mind but rhetorically yet personally, if my zeal should consume me, would I have lost sight of the reason for my zeal? I do many things in the heat of the moment. Of them some I feel guilty for but few I regret. Some I realise could have been done better but most times I wouldn't change the situation. I guess it has in part a lot to do with my character of taking things to the extreme. Hot. Cold. Sceptical. Gullible. Loyal to a fault. Hating for almost no reason. The only thing I have in moderation is air. Too much and I'll fall unconscious, too little and I die.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006


After 2 posts on life and death, I thought we should traverse a path less morbid lest the heart fainteth and the soul dwindleth. There, does that sound more cheery? It's about 3am now and I'm still on the computer. And why am I on the computer? Is it because I am researching the next cure for obesity? No. Am I delving into the crevices of knowledge to unleash some quantum glorific, news-worthy announcement? No. Is it because the sweet sound of the humming of micro-pieces of copper brings joy to my soul? No. I am sitting here by will and nothing else. Alas, I cannot even accept geek-status for myself for the time spent in cyber space. I've checked Hotmail 15 times in 2 hours. I have made 2 new friends online in 3. I have corresponded with people who are celebrating mid-morning and I have eaten a whole tub of Ben and Jerrys... that by the way, wasn't a cyber experience. It sits content in the folds of my flesh, flourishing as only ice cream can and it laps gently over my stomach walls, duodenum, ileum, colon... I have long forgotten that I'm wearing green eyeshadow and mascara and now resemble something of a gecko in the middle of a desert.

I was looking through some pictures of me when I was 17 or so. I thought I was fat then. Looking back in the contented body I have and comparing the two, I was not bad... not bad at all. Hehehehehehehehehehe. Hahahahahahahahahaha. Insert Guffaw. You know, we're always told to love others. I think we need to love ourselves a bit more. So for me that means stop moaning to Elena that I've got 2 tyres and feel blessed I don't have to shave or wax (thanks to my genes). Stop moaning that I'm not tall and feel blessed that I can walk. If we lived several centuries ago, I'd be moaning that I was too skinny cos the ideal woman then would be voluptuous signifying fertility and maternal credit. However, thanks to women's lib. movements, the thought of looking 'fertile' is horrific.

Oh, let's just all get rid of any body fat that will lead to successful pregnancies and smarter brains (because brains feed on good fats).
Let's put ourselves in clothes resembling straight jackets so the clothing industry will make more money using less cloth.
Let's take pills to stop children becoming the natural product of sexual relationships so that when we do become pregnant, we can point the finger and say "It wasn't my fault" and abort.
Let's blame the men for every ugly thing in this world so that we don't have to take responsibility.


The ideal of the above would then be skinnier (more beautiful) women who looked like they'd been peeled of the ironing board, no eyebags, smudged makeup or blotched skin at anytime of the day, could outsmart men ad have children when they wanted to. The Superwoman-supermum-superwife.

Reality check. Obesity is on the rise. Probably because women can't really be bothered to work to stay fit even if they all dream of it. Clothing sizes are going up so the clothing industry has to up their prices to avoid financial loss which means women have to work harder for longer or go into major debt. Because they want to work a man's shift, they eat a man's meal- that is, a man without a wife to cook for him - so in goes the fatty acids, high GI rebels and hyped up E-numbers from ready-cooked meal packs and frozen food. As a result of this food, splotches show, acne, rash, poor cardio rate is the norm, come bad memory, tiredness and low immune system. The 'magical' pill, while a success to medicine is a failure to humanity. Abortion follows suit. As women age, their biological clock suddenly goes clanging wildly and all of a sudden a child becomes the ultimate necessity. Mortgage the house twice, sell the car, divorce the husband. I wanted a career. Now I want a child.

Sometimes I wonder whether life will be easier to just return home to Malaysia. I think about a lot of things and fair dos, hands up, I'll admit I think of children. I don't mind adopting but when is the right time? Next year? When I'm 25? 30? When? In terms of education, the Malaysian system is the system I know. Sure it's not great but if I stayed here, I'd probably send my kids to public schools or surburban state schools and it would depend where. If I had my own, all the post-pregnancy 'rituals' I know are Malaysian. How would that fit in if I lived anywhere else? I'm glad I think about these things because then I am aware of the weight the responsibility carries. I'll never be fully aware of it til I have kids but thinking about it is a good start.

How did we go from geekiness to kids? Will I be a geeky mother I wonder...

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


My basil is dying. Note: Basil is a type of herb for those who do not know. London is warming up faster than Olympic athletes and poor basil is looking very miserable and dried out. I've tried watering him more often (yes, my basil is a 'he' and no, I've NOT named him) but he justs sits there looking more and more dehydrated everyday. I might need to repot him or do something about the earth he's plodding in. I really don't want him to die, he smells nice. In my grief the skies mock me with clouds floating overhead yet withholding water and refreshment for poor basil. The cowardly sun shines down as a school bully holding his victim's cap in his hands far above his head would, but when I shake my fist at him he hides behind his doughnut shaped clouds. Well, that was before. At the moment they look like migrating Stegasauruses. I hope it rains soon - for both basil's sake and my own. I don't want to have to bury another herb.

I'll be flying to Japan soon and that means writing up another will. Everytime I fly to another country I write a will just in case stuff happens. I have yet to decide whether I want my funeral here or in Malaysia; either way it's going to be H-O-T if I die this summer and my decomposing body would have contributed to more greenhouse gases to the annoyance of my fully functioning mind sitting in Paradise. I did think of having a clause saying everyone who comes to my funeral will have to wear red but then it'll make for very bad photos if everyone started crying and had to wear red at the same time. Maybe I'll reduce it to 'colour' and by the way, black or white will be considered a 'tone' and not 'colour' under the stipulations. I take my will writing seriously although I put it in such jovial terms because it'll be the last time I get to say anything on my mind to the people left behind. Maybe I could do it in video format...

My life

You Are a German Shepherd Puppy

Intelligent, quick witted, and a bit aggressive.
You've got the jaw power to take a bite out of anyone you choose.

Your Personality Is Like Heroin

You're capable of the highest highs and the lowest lows.
Addicted to feeling good, you'll do almost anything to avoid pain.
People seek you out, even though you can be quite moody. They're hooked on you!

Monday, June 19, 2006


Today the clouds looked uncomfortable, a distinct reminder of heavily pregnant dogs with already ground-level tits. My mum and I used to go "Awwwh" everytime we saw a short bitch walk by cos she looked so rotund we thought she should sit yet her flabby tits prevented her from stretching out with ease. I miss my dogs. I don't know what Troy or Deuce look like now; it's been a year since I last saw them. My hope is that, amorous as I presume Troy to be, if he is anything like his dad, I hope Sally has enough sense not to allow her son to mate with her. There is a really handsome brown dog that wanders around our neighbourhood which I think my mum would like Sally to mate with. I read a book recently called, "The Hidden Life of Dogs" and although not as good as "The Tribe of Tiger," written by the same author, it is good reading nevertheless if you like animals.

So, now that we have gotten around that detour, I have to walk in to college today but as predictable as the glorious weather is, it being unpredictable that is, I don't know whether I'll be in for sunshine or a downpour.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

My day in snippets

Washed my hair!!!

Took the 159 in with Elena. Will be moping with her tonight over cheesy movies and decadent ice cream.

I have been dumped by my vampire mate of 200 years! Well, or so says Facebook.

My Japanese visa which, I submitted today should hopefully start processing by Tuesday.

I still don't have a job. My friend Tanvi was looking for one when we bumped into one another. I also bumped into Andrew Swift whilst talking to Tanvi but he, being with his mother and grandmother (I believe), chose to give me an embarrassed glance and walked on.

I tore a slab of skin from my heel causing it to bleed.

The only things that have passed my lips today are a huge ball of praline chocolate and nuts, a gorgeous coffee macaroon and one manggo. Probably a tub of Ben and Jerry's after being sorely dumped...

I made an orange, origami pig.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Comfort eating

I am a comfort eater through and through. When I am angry, I eat to hold my tongue. When I'm upset, I eat to forget how upset I am. When I feel sick, I eat to supress the feeling of throwing up. I'm not obese but I'm not ultra thin ( the 2 categories people usually fall into when they have an eating problem), maybe I'm a tad overweight... Do I think I have a problem with food? I don't know. I know that I like my food, a lot. I know that I have contemplated and tried throwing up after, without any success, because just not eating was too hard. Maybe the fact that I'm talking about it means I don't have a problem. I don't know... Because I'm not disciplined in most things (I won't even go to the gym if it were too far away - I like it opposite the house) I might not be discipline enough to become bulimic.

Monday, June 12, 2006

London, Oh London

I think I'm going to spend my summer with my head down the toilet. The heat is getting to me really badly. To think, I moved here because I thought climate change would ease burning sensations in the fatty tissues of my brain but lo, and behold, it has not. I like Winter and Autumn's not too bad. Spring brings with it nature's pollen missiles so I don't favour Spring either. But Summer, oh Summer, if I were a tree, Summer would be my favourite season. Unless of course I happen to live during a time of no rain and harsh greenhouse effect heatwaves. I don't like the way the sun makes everything it hits reflects its rays directly into my eye. I don't like the way it heats up my room so that I feel like a pig-in-a-blanket, even though my duvet is somewhere by my feet. I don't like the way it makes me swelter and wish that England knew what air-conditioning was although I know England has air conditioning. I guess, Summer and I just don't get along. Maybe I should move to Alaska.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

To fret or not to fret

When things are going swimmingly,
Or so they say,
Do I say "No, actually,"
Or do I lie still, let them go their way.

When things are headed up,
Or so people think,
Do I give them a "Hup, hup!"
Or scream, "You're going to sink!"

When people don't want answers,
To questions left unsaid,
Should I show them their flawed lenses,
Or merely shrug and say "Too bad."

A calmer soul I wish I had,
A lesser passion won't be too bad,
If I were a lesser friend,
This poem I would not pen.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

GET OUT of my head!!!!!

I've got another bad migraine and I feel like throwing up but I can't live three quarters of my life in bed (I already live half of it under the duvet) so I forced myself to get up, wash, eat and am now feeling sick. My arteries feel like bursting, I've got dull aches up and down my neck and my gut is churning digested chilli beef in pastry. The thought of it makes me even more sick so I'll try stop thinking. I really dislike popping pills to get rid of the pain but somehow, painkillers are the only way I can lead a semblance of a normal life. I've continuosly and consistently upped both my dosage and the level of medication from when I was about 8. It looks like I'll have to go through another level of painkiller metamorphosis unless I want to consume 1,500mg of something or rather. When will it stop?

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Three little words...

Oh, the bliss. Summer is here and in the midst of SO many of my friends getting together and finding new hope and a new future (insert opera music here), three little words make my heart skip a beat everytime:


Now that exams are over, the period of waiting has just intensified. Not yet ratified means I have to wait some more but not yet ratified also means I don't see a big, fat 'FAIL' on the computer screen. Ah, the pessimist that I am... Even if I did fail, oh well, that's life, cest la vie and it wouldn't exactly hurt my credibility with God. Peers do seem to put a lot of pressure to get the best grades possible. Maybe we should all not have friends... I remember the days where our 6th grade (6th grade, not 6th form) results seemed to be the be all and end all in the world. I watched Superman the night before the paper - To me not knowing what was going to happen between Clark Kent and Lois Lane was worse than, worse than... I didn't let it bother me too much. Malaysia's weird in the way exams are marked. Student who don't get straight As are considered not as creamy as those who do. In the knowledge that I was full-fat anyway, and that my sister would probably get all the As needed for the both of us, I quite happily skipped along in life. The only time I wanted straight As was the time I didn't get it. I got 5 instead of 7 and 2Bs, which wouldn't have mortified the 'old' Deborah but because I wanted it so much and didn't get it, I went into a bit of a broody shell for 2 years - broody here meaning moody and not the desire of wanting children. However once you get to the last year of uni, exam results matter only in what job you get. If you got a 1st and had no job, the world doesn't seem to acknowledge the hard work put in during uni years. If you're a school drop out earning millions, the world worships the ground you walk on and hails you a genius who doesn't need a degree because degrees are for people who aren't as clever. Thank goodness I'm Christian! If I weren't, my whole life would be caught up in how much others think of me and how I can set my imprint on this world. If we can set a Jesus-imprint on this earth, great(!) but our treasure is in heaven and that's where we're going to spend the next 600 years and more. Eternity sounds too long but imagine if we worked faithfully (on earth) for 50 years, regardless of hardships and then enjoyed the fruits of our labour for 500 years. The person who lived for this word would enjoy his life for 50 years and spend 500 years in bitter anguish. Perspective makes life go round when people tell you it's square.

Silence is golden

Just to let you know, the picture is from Google and although I don't know who those lips belong to, they look pout-worthy enough to warrant Angelina Jolie as a guess.

Too many questions!!!!!

Monday, June 05, 2006

The Lover Meme

You know you have too much time on your hands (when actually you shouldn't because you should be doing more important stuff) when, you start completing memes that concern the same age old question, Is there a perfect someone out there?

The rules of the meme; The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points about his/her perfect lover. Has to mention the gender of his/her perfect lover.

Firstly, may I just point out that I do not feel victimised in anyway. Secondly, the position of perfect lover (of my soul) has already been filled by Jesus and thirdly, the way the question was structured assumes that one already has a perfect lover and merely wants a 8-point list of their perfection. However, for general purposes, I'm assuming the meme represents the straight-jacket I want my 'perfect' man to be confined to. I've had my hey-day of lists, 222 being the highest number I reached, so rather than a list of potentially changeable material, for example if he ever has Alzheimer's Disease, I can throw having witty banter out of the window, (if he ever got allergic to cats or dogs... oh no...), I've opted for a heart op.

N.B My species preference is homo sapien masculine.

1. Has or is cultivating fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

2. Not a religious nut.

3. Tesco value aside, reformed chicken is fine - get the pun?

4. God-led

5. Christ-centered

6. Spirit-filled

7. Loves God more than he loves me

8. Understands we're both not perfect.

I used to think I didn't want a guy with tattoos, piercings or who smoked. Tattoos are incredibly hard to get rid of and the money could go to better things so as long as he doesn't have a printed snake coiled around his arm, I'm not too fussed. I have my own share of piercings so can't complain there but I still fume at people who smoke. Hahahaha another pun, get it? Fuming?? Clothes-wise, as long as his boxers are kept hidden (I don't favour the letting it all hang look) and his shirt looks artistically torn, that's fine. Nails whether long or short should be clean. I still prefer my guy to be tee-total just because you never know when the booze will kill your liver but that's a preference rather than a necessity. If he's in tune with the 8 points above, hopefully he won't end up alchoholic. I actually like long hair better than short hair and if having dreadlocks saves money on shampoo, why not?

Aaaaahhhhh!!!!!! I've got to run and meet someone for lunch. And I literally mean run.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

In the presence of good food

We are blessed people! Too much good food and we sure can waste a lot, which is a sad, sad occasion indeed. Nevertheless, I don't think we can have too much ice cream. I was going to say that I'd fall at the feet of the first person to buy me a giant ice cream (cos after rent, airport taxes and books I can't really afford to buy one) but thought the better of it. Remember Esau? He sold his birthright for a bowl of stew. Although I don't know what I'd give for an ice cream, it certainly won't be my birthright. Can you imagine giving up infinity and beyond for a sundae, dripping as it may be with luscious chocolate sauce, sprinkled with perfectly roasted hazelnuts and topped with decadent whipped cream? A happy day it will be for the moment but infinite sadness to follow.
My mum emailed. Said that people were asking if I planned to go home soon. As nice as it is to be wanted, I have an inkling that what people really want is my cheesecake. Or chocolate or chocolate cheese.

The pinnacle of culinary success would be to merge the ice cream with the chocolate cheesecake to produce an artistic blend of perfect bliss so intoxicating and overwhelming that electric chairs, nooses and lethal injections need never be used again. Death by ice cream. Wow. Imagine the guards on death row salivating over the very instrument used to put away inmates. Imagine their agony as they watch another convict's taste buds tingle with an explosion of flavour, knowing that they can never (unless they want to die) have even a single lick. Boo Deborah! Morbid. Selfish. Only wanting to share with people who will die anyway. So, will you bow to the chocolate bunny or will you toe the line and eat your greens?

Men and birds

Finding a satisfactory equilibrium between men and birds (or chicks, foxes, babes, cows...) has never been easy since the Fall. However, I have to say they come together quite nicely in the person of gorgeous Ben Foster aka Angel. With an impressive wingspan to make sweeping anyone off their feet a simple task, I might forgive him for being a mutant, although if we were in a lovers' tiff, he might retort with, "What's there to forgive??!!" X-Men 3 held expected standards but I was slightly disappointed that so many main characters died or were rendered useless.

I got lost trying to take several buses from South to East London but badly drawn routes left me confused (the D3 was not listed on the bus stop although it was on the map) and I finally gave up on Commercial Road approaching Limehouse because I had 10 minutes left to get to the Cinema, didn't know my east from my west and had loser boozers hooting at me. I hailed a cab, gave him directions and then spent the rest of the journey watching the meter go up and praying that he would drive faster. We arrived on time but I have to say that my mind played havoc on me the whole time;

"Oh God, I pray that he'll drive faster."
"Why is he so slow?"
"Is he doing this on purpose?"
"But he looked so nice." (He was an old-ish man)
"God, please, please make him hurry up."
"Oh look, a motorcycle has just overtaken us..."

So, exams are over, I don't want to know the results, I need a job, I'll be going to Japan, I need money, I am using summer to meet up with friends, I need money. It's awful how we need it. Do we?

Saturday, June 03, 2006

End of the end

My exams are over and I celebrated it with a giant headache. Well the headache came after. I went out with a few friends last night for dinner and we were supposed to go to Mongolian Barbeque but I didn't book a table (I didn't think it was necessary) so we didn't get to eat Mongolian and wandered around Covent Garden looking for food. Some of us were starving, some of us had MacDonalds beforehand but we were all hungry and just wanted to sit down somewhere. We finally decided on TGI Friday and had a waitress called Amy whom we called for loudly, being the obnoxious people that we were. T'was my first TGI experience and I have to say, although slightly pricey, was worthwhile. It feels strange not having an exam to have to prepare for. However, I could still put up short term and long term goals to fulfill such as visa application, preparation for Japan trip - language, culture, food, a job, another job, where is that job? Oh wait, I've got to write up a CV first. So that's another thing on the list. Less chocolate, more fruit. More Bridget Jones? You know what? I really want to go home...