moody meanderings

After days of non-stop activity and late nights, I'm finding it hard to be still. Especially on a Friday night. Turned down a date with John, the guy from last night. Said I was going to have a quiet night, that I was going to go home and crash. So I sat myself in front of the tele and stayed glued to it for two hours before hunger drove me out to Lan Kwai Fong. Hunger for food and hunger for loud music and the buzz of drunken conversation. Wasn't hungry enough for real food so I picked up a bag of fries and picked my way back up the hill. But I couldn't bring myself to leave the noise of merriment. I stopped at the edge of Lan Kwai Fong and for thirty minutes, stood there as I took in the lights on the buildings, the jarring mix of music from the bars and the continuous stream of people.

Oh, this is too much. I'm heading out again.

On my way to lunch this afternoon, I noticed that Marks and Spencer's on Queen's Road had up a very unusual window display. It looked like a display for a furniture store as there was a sofa, a love-seat, carpet and other bits of furniture you might find in your living room. As I dodged the heavy lunch traffic to arrive at our usual restaurant ahead of salsagod, I made a mental note to check out M&S's new furniture department after lunch. On the way back, a crowd had gathered at the busy intersection around the store window as a camera crew set up their camera to film the window display. They were ogling at a very attractive young caucasian couple wearing what looked like swim or sports wear. She sat on the couch reading a magazine while making idle chit-chat with him while he sat on the floor, electronic gadget in hand. This, I suppose, is "reality" advertising.

Yesterday's performance went very well for a first public show. The party drew a pretty good crowd by the time we came onto the dance floor. It wasn't a very big dance floor and people were standing around very close to the space we were using for the performance. We saw the video after and we looked good. None of the mistakes we thought we made showed up, which was great. The party was one of those singles "traffic light" events. Everyone wore a coloured tag: green for available and looking, red for "not available" (just taking up space!) and amber for "ambivalent" I guess. As performers, we didn't wear a sticker. Most people were happy just gawking at us. Few made attempts at conversation. One of the organisers chatted with me. I assumed he was just being a good host to his performers until he asked me out. And here I thought his role was to facilitate singles to meet other singles, not himself!

Quiet night tonight. I should rest my legs and give the bags under my eyes an ice pack.

Some tunes have a way of ringing in your head long after you last heard it. Young B sang this in a Bangkok karaoke. Steve echoed it on the Dragon's Back, then again in Macau. Today, it ricocheted through my system and played itself out in my head as I walked to work..."Puff, the magic dragon....". Now, I'm passing it on through the 'net to you, my unsuspecting readers.

Too many late nights has taken its toll on me. I have bags reaching all the way down to my chin. My eyelids are heavy and my eyes dry from excessive use of contact lenses. In some ways, I am relieved young B and his buddy have left so I can catch up on sleep. On the other hand, I doubt I'm going to get any more sleep anyway as it is HK Salsa Festival week after all. But I have a few hours between work and rehearsal today so I'm going to squeeze in some shut-eye then. In fact, I think I shall leave work now.

The HK Salsa Festival kicks off tonight with the Welcome party at Club Ing tonight. Unfortunately for me, I'm at rehearsals until eleven tonight which doesn't leave much time left for dancing unless I make it a late one again. Tomorrow night, the ASLAS all-girl dance team performs its new routine for the first time at the Asiaxpat party held at the EDGE. It is touted to be the "mother of all mixers" party for HK's 140,000 strong expat community with a focus on singles. Should be fun. Then on Saturday, we perform again, this time to Salsa enthusiasts from all around the region at the Grand Ballroom of the Regal Hotel, Causeway Bay. This is going to be a lot more daunting especially as we will be performing among international performers and instructors. Yikes!

We said our "goodbyes" tonight. This is so hard. You meet someone and you hope he's nice. He turns out to be a great guy and then you wish it didn't have to be so difficult parting. I will miss them. Darn it. I miss them already. I hadn't planned on spending so much time with them. I'm glad I did.

Tonight, we sat outside the Fong for a couple of non-alcoholic mixes. Our first non-alcoholic drink out. Across from us was Beirut, where Ben and I first met for a beer and a bite. We had come full circle. It seemed like just yesterday that we were sitting next to each other having really polite conversation as we mentally sought for ways to impress each other. He was keeping an eye on the time for us to pick his buddy, Steve, up from the MTR station. I was hoping I didn't stink too much of sweat from rehearsals earlier. And then I gave Steve the wrong exit number so we had to stake out both exits in order to catch him before he got lost. Very impressive, indeed. Thankfully, Steve emerged just as we were planning on going back to the other exit. All that seemed like so long ago and yet feels like only yesterday.

We were in Macau yesterday. This was probably my fifth time there. We rushed through most of the tourist spots and then headed to Fernando's on Coloane for a really good dinner of clams, roast chicken, salad and scrummy hot bread, washed down with a jug of sangria. Steve was tired from sleeping only two or three hours. But he was still quite hyper until dinner time when he went completely flat. But at the thought of getting on our way to the Hotel Lisboa, he immediately lit up again. At the basement of the Hotel Lisboa are some shops and restaurants. For some reason, nearly thirty young perfectly made-up Chinese girls had picked that spot to do a little catwalking, hawking their wares, namely their young, perhaps even teenage, bodies. They were prostitutes from the mainland and they were parading up and down the corridor of what's affectionately called the "fishbowl". The boys were thoroughly amused and even took some video footage of the parade. That was probably the highlight of their day after hours of San Paulo church ruins, Forteleza something and Senada square.

I'm so going to miss them. Oh, and I didn't get into any trouble with young and scrummy B after all. Thankfully, he has a lot of restraint for a young lad of twenty-four. I can't say the same for myself after a few drinks though. I hope we keep in touch but friendships like these tend to be fleeting, fading soon after they have outlived their usefulness, which in this case, was us meeting up while he was on vacation in Hong Kong. I should stop rambling now and get some sleep. Kissed him tonight. It was soft. He has lips to die for. I'm definitely rambling now. I will sleep.

Young Ben and his buddy, Steve, leave tomorrow morning. I sure am going to miss them, especially B. The days seem to have come and gone in a flash. I will see them for the last time tonight. I will miss their craziness, their boyish banter, his long-lash framed green and blue eyes, his sexy pout, his sometimes charming ways, and most of all, his gorgeous smile (his head is probably swelling up to three times its normal size now!). Thanks to them both, I got to live one weekend like I was twenty-four again.

After drinking past four in the morning and several episodes of SATC which the boys insisted on watching, I slept four hours before the noise of renovation works in a neighbouring block preventerd further rest. I woke up with a hangover which made the propect of tackling the Dragon's Back in twenty four degrees Celsius weather particularly unappealing. The boys were still asleep when I rang them. I put it to young B if he still wanted to do the hike, half hoping he would decide against it. But even though he was barely able to pick up the telephone and his buddy was reluctant to go, he was still game on going along with what half-wit itinerary I had planned for them.

It was after one in the afternoon by the time we started to scale the trail from Shek-O Road. There was an unusual buzz of activity at the foot of the trail which I learned was because it was being used as a check-point for the Green Power Hike. Blue Shirt had been preparing for the event all the time we were dating. He could be on this trail! My heart skipped a beat at the thought of running into him exactly two weeks after my abrupt sms. But I quickly quelled my anxieties. The Dragon's Back was just one part of the total GP hike trail which began from the Peak. There were hundreds of people, if not a thousand participating in the hike, not to mention other enthusiasts on the trail just there for the weekend walk. It was a one in a million chance if I ran into him under such random conditions. And even if we did walk past each other, what chance was there that we would notice a face while concentrating hard on the dirt track?

The trail was crowded with hikers who looked completely exhausted from having hiked hours earlier. We were fresh on the trail but looked no less worse than they with hangover on our faces and alcohol still in our blood (well, mine at least). The trail that wound back to Shek-O Road took us over three hours to complete, what with all the goofing around betwen the boys who were hurling rocks at each other. The journey back was more treacherous than I remembered as winter left little moisture in the dusty gravel. Most hikers around us fell over on their behinds and slid a good way down the bumpy slide. Others voluntarily took on the butt slide as a safer alternative to falling over. I did a near crab crawl down, wary of falling hikers behind me. We broke away from the other hikers as they headed towards Tai Tam while we headed back towards Shek-O Road. As we approached the rest stop which marked the start and the end of our journey, I caught sight of a familiar face twenty-five or so metres away walking towards the Hong Kong trail with the rest of the GP hikers. He was looking back at me, recognition dawning. A smile broked across both our faces as we each acknoledged the other. I clambered up the platform to meet him. We chatted like old friends. He suggested we should meet next week to "do something". I said "Sure. You have my number", and we parted company, he ascending the Dragon while we descended. I was exhausted from the hike but I felt suddenly energised because of the chance meeting with Blue Shirt. Young B later remarked on the "spring" in my step. I guess he was right because I was pleased that we were not strangers afterall. So, was it Fate that brought about this meeting? Or was this divine providence to test whether I could let bygones be? Or perhaps just pure coincidence not to be superstitious about?

I didn't manage to stay at work for long yesterday. The combination of rehearsal, alcohol and late night was taking its toll just two hours after I got in to the office. I took the rest of the afternoon off to go home for a nap. The boys didn't get out of bed until after one in the afternoon. Young B came over with a load of wash which I offered for them to do at my place. He's surprisingly polite and gentlemanly for an Aussie. At least, I don't know many Australians who practise European chivalry. He's also every bit as fun as he is online. I, on the other hand, have had too much alcohol for my own good. I'm determined to be a teetotaler the rest of this weekend. It's Dragon's Back today, followed by rehearsal, then salsa. Hopefully, I will be able to redeem myself of my stupidity thus far.

Oh my god! He is so damn sexy, I am in so much trouble!!! Either that or I'm just fucking horny! No, he's definitely sexy. He has dimples! Is there anything cuter on a guy? OK, there's the face ass too. We met up at his hotel lobby and made our way on foot to LKF. Showed him all my hangouts and then stopped at Beirut for a bit of food while we waited for his friend, room-nate and travelling companion to call. After that, it was Insomnia for some live coverband music. We stayed until past one then headed back to my place where I taught them some basic salsa moves because young B won't dance with me Saturday unltil he's had some refresher. OMG! He has the most amazing smile! He wasn't kidding when he said I was in danger of being completely besotted. OMG. And I lost my glasses from the club home. So I'm typing blind. I may as well have my eyes shut cos I can't see what I'm typing. Wait a minute! I'm doing that already. I should really get to bed now. I'm in so much trouble....

Yay! It will be a long weekend. I hope I can keep up! Included in the itinerary: Macau and dinner at Fernando's, Dragon's Back, Peking duck, Salsa and drinking til we're stupid. I'm excited and nervous at the same time. What if he is completely different from the person I know online? What if I am not the same as my online persona? Afterall, hidden behind the anyonymity of the web, we often assume personas waaaay bigger than ourselves, don't we? Well, there's no way to know so I'm not going to fret about it until this evening.

Oh, and thanks to all of you who participated in the poll.

Finally got back to Salsa at Ing tonight after more than six months away. It was good to be back. The social element of dancing tonight was especially welcome after so many weeks of grueling rehearsals. I didn't dance as much as I'd have liked to but I danced more than I'd expected. A guy I used to learn ballroom dancing with nearly ten years ago was at Ing tonight. He never contacted me after sending me the one email asking for my contact details. I recognised him tonight but he didn't remember me immediately. And then we had a couple of dances, actually, it was way more than a couple because I was doing my patriotic duty of dancing with a fellow Singaporean and making him feel welcome. Anyway, when we were done, he asked me for my number again. I had half a mind to tell him to go look up his email but didn't. Exhausted now. I think I'll sleep like a babe.

And as for mystery-man-no-more, yes, I met him. No, there were no guns involved, nor an expensive check. But good friends played bodyguards at a bar up the street. In the end, I decided it best to face my fears, frustrations, sadness and anxieties, demon and nemesis, head-on than run from it. And I am the better for it. I have exorcised the phantom from the internet. There he was before me, a mortal man, as nervous as I, perhaps even more so. Now, I can only hope that this brings an end to his obsession.

He wants a chance to explain. To what end? To justify his actions? I'm not interested in justification. Does he expect me to say it's okay? It isn't okay. It isn't okay that he went out of his way to mentally abuse, discredit and slander a total stranger whose personal online ramblings he chanced upon and read and still reads obsessively. So, he's screwed up in his head. That makes it okay for him to mess around with other people's lives? Newsflash: most of us are screwed up, too. But we cope with our self-limiting beliefs and make the best of what we have, for ourselves and for others. We don't plot and scheme and take out our personal inadequacies on complete strangers by preying on their emotional fragility in cheap and cowardly ways!

No, don't give me explanations and justifications. Try heartfelt remorse, instead. Because I can forgive the person but I cannot condone the actions.

The man goes out of his way to be unkind, then out of his way to be kind. Now, he wants a chance to explain his madness. Should I give him a chance to explain the unexplainable? Take the poll and tell me, tell me, tell me, please.

It's a sad day when you find out that the person who brought smiles to your face with a beautiful bouquet just a few days ago is the same person who brought tears to your eyes with unkind comments about you posted in other high-traffic HK blogs. Relationships are tenuous and fragile. Boyfriends turn strangers. Friends turn into foes. Can foes become friends? My gut says 'no'. My faith says 'yes'. My heart? Could use more duct tape.

Oh yes, and as my luck would have it, he's attached. Which brings up a whole lot of questions about the flowers, doesn't it? Hmmm....well, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, my mom used to say. What does that mean anyway? Something to do with Trojan horses?

I can't believe someone is sms-ing me at this time of night! Isn't past your bedtime?!

Mystery Man has finally revealed himself. And it turns out he is who I thought he was. No, I don't know the guy but I know of him. He is the same guy with the dark and inappropriate sense of humour which caused me to remove my comments box altogether. Freaky? I'd say so if I hadn't actually spoken to the guy. He's really quite personable on the phone. I guess some people have better phone manners than netiquette. Here endeth the mystery.

There's no one but me in the office. Everyone else is distributed around the globe, leaving one other guy and me. And since his laptop decided to go completely kaputz earlier this afternoon, he took the rest of the afternoon off as well. I'm not feeling particularly motivated now. The cleaners are busy dusting and vacuuming which says to me, it is beer o'clock. C-bar beckons...

One of the reasons I called it quits with Blue Shirt just a week before Valentine's was because I didn't want to get through "that day" dateless while I was supposedly dating someone. I didn't know if he would ask me out especially since his affections appeared to be waning quickly. Or perhaps he was truly busy. Anyway, rather than fretting about it all week while being bombarded with 'love' themes, I decided to deal with the anxiety the way I always did in the past -- making sure the thing I feared wouldn't happen, wouldn't happen. At least if I didn't have a date, it was because I planned it that way. Sounds like twisted logic in hindsight but there you go. I'm rambling. What I really want to blog about is that since I made the decision a week ago to call it quits, I decided today would be a good day to remove those things which keep me wondering if I did the right thing. I deleted all his sms messages. All twenty-five of them. Many of which said "missing you" or other equally sweet things. Every one of them deleted one by one by one. I opened each message, read them and deleted them, exorcising them out of my SIM card and hopefully, out of my system as I did so. Maybe this doesn't make me ready for the next relationship but every journey starts with a single step, right? Well, technically, I've taken twenty-five of them!

And finally, here are ten things I know about my mystery valentine
1) He is a man,
2) an Englishman
3) who resides in Hong Kong.
4) He reads my blog regularly,
5) some might even say "obsessively".
6) Half of the time he probably thinks he fancies me
7) and the other half of the time, thinks I'm vain, selfish, intolerant and obsessive.
8) He has "stalker" instincts,
9) but will not stoop to physical stalkings (*fingers crossed*).
10) He has a very "kind" telephone voice (or maybe it was just the time of the morning?).

remains a mystery. I wonder what motivates some people to do kind deeds, like donating large sums of money to charity, or, in this case, sending beautiful flowers and written affirmations to someone else anonymously. To feel a sense of gratification despite the lack of acknowledgement, recognition, or expressed gratitude for the act of kindness. I wonder if he or she knows how the sight of the blossoming bouquet has touched and brightened up my weekend. I wonder. And I wonder what makes some others do the very opposite...

We didn't get to dinner til late. I finished rehearsal only after seven and it was eight by the time I got back with groceries. Tara was supposed to be by before nine. Thankfully, she was delayed until ten, which gave me enough time to complete the meal preparations, shower and get ready for our big night. At eleven, we headed out to LKF. The streets were relatively tame for that time of night on a weekend. Met up a couple of her friends at Agave and the foursome made a round of LKF, looking for a good stop to park ourselves for a few hours. But as I said, it was a relatively quiet night. Uninspired, we decided to go to a private party at a bar on Lyndhurst Terrace. The invitation said "Valentine's Meat Market". We were off to sell ourselves. As the elevator opened to the entrance of the bar, we were greeted with an arrangement of polaroids which advertised "Single women" and "Single men". After the introductions to the hosts were made, one of the hosts whipped out the culprit polaroid camera and took a photo of me, then Tara. The other two girls declined to be shot. We each scribbled our names on the photo before they were whisked off to the meat market. As most of us didn't know many people at the party (some of us didn't know anyone), we moved on after one drink to Kee Club. Someone tipped us off about the Brazilian carnival theme party going on there. None of us were members but it wasn't a problem one email address couldn't solve. The place place was pounding with latin music, then other dance tunes. The dance floor was small and crowded. We moved upstairs and found a cosy corner. The music was good and danceable too so Tara and I began to dance by the bar. We were having fun trying out moves and minding our own business when some men approached to comment that they'd been watching us spin for fifteen minutes (We were only spinning for two). One fat English man offered to buy us drinks. We were having mineral water so he got us more mineral water. He asked if we were practising for a competition and I laughed and joked that we were practising for a performance, how did we look? He said with a very straight face that we were "OK" and that "he'd seen better", that Tara looked good but I was "clearly out of shape". This, from a man who could afford to lose at least twenty kilos! He then went on, without missing a beat, to ask if it was Valentines night in Hong Kong. That he knew it was Valentines Day but was it Valentines night, too? Not only was he fat and rude, he was a downright imbecile as well. The asshole was trying to chat us up with criticism and insult. Perhpas he thought he'd earned the right to be rude because he bought us mineral water? We left soon after.

The top bar of my IE window has been afflicted with symptoms of vd. The "Google" bar is spelt with a red heart, while the text bar is speckled with tiny pink hearts, and an arrow through a heart precedes "Search Web". But none of these matter because the sun is shining its big, round, happy face and the sky burns a brilliant azure blue, and best of all, it is a perfect twenty degrees outside.

I enjoyed a really nice sleep-in this morning and then got up to tidy up my flat, putting things away that should have been put away a month ago. The result is a more spacious dining area but a more crowded bedroom where the clothes rail I hang my coats and winter paraphernalia on has moved into.

I plan to cook tonight to avoid the hassle of finding a place to eat without having to fork out unreasonable amounts of money. And after that, dressed in our vamp best, we plan to hit the bars where hearts and roses aren't on the drink list. I have in mind a little black number with an open cleavage but I'm not sure if I'll be vamp enough to carry it off. I've had this dress for more than five years but never once wore it out. Maybe tonight.

Back to domesticity.

I've been so pre-occupied with the identity of the mystery flower sender that I didn't even stop to smell the roses!Did you know that not all roses smell like roses? These have no scent. So much for "smelling the flowers". Hahaha! Well, no one has written or called to claim responsibility yet. Whoever it was, he/she made my day and possibly my entire weekend! If you're reading this, THANK YOU again!

I'm guessing that the sender of the flowers is a Hong Kong local, or a HK resident, who is not only familiar with, but subscribes to local customs. Did you know that it is a Hong Kong custom to send eleven stems of roses on Valentine's Day? (No, it isn't Valentine's Day yet but clearly, this person only knows my office address so it makes sense to send the flowers one day early.) Anyway, I learnt today that the significance of eleven instead of a full dozen of roses on the occasion of Valentine's Day is that the sender represents the twelfth stem. Now, is that the sweetest thing you ever heard or the corniest? I still can't began to guess who the sender is because 1) I don't know many local men, much less one inspired enough to fork out a good lot of money to send me roses; 2) I don't know ANY man in Hong Kong inclined to do the same. Any more clues?

How about that? Not a small bouquet either. And no, it wasn't wilting :P. It is gorgeous! I have no idea who it is from as it was anonymously sent. So, a big "THANK YOU" to whoever it was that was inspired to send them to me.

Some enterprising hawkers began selling "Happy Valentine's Day" balloons and stalks of roses today to head off the Valentine's day rush, two days ahead of the game. I wonder how many stalks of roses and heart-shaped balloons they managed to sell tonight. If you receive a single stalk of wilting rose tomorrow Saturday, you'll know it was purchased from a street hawker two days earlier.

Tonight, Coyote celebrated their fifth anniversary with balloons and 'live' music by their resident band, led by Club Manager, Christian Polanco. We had just finished dance rehearsals and were walking a couple of our gals over to the bar before heading home. On the way from the studio to the bar, we chanced upon a newsstand with male porn magazines displayed on a six feet long platform. I have never seen male pornography covers before and was tickled by the modest male porn bunny bodies displayed. We guffawed at the frail, feminine looks and awkward gay poses and were beside ourselves laughing until we noticed an oldish man staring at us. We quieted down into a giggle and made for him to pass but he continued to gawk at us as he hobbled on. As we continued on our way chuckling and giggling, we noticed that he was always just behind us or dragging his feet ahead of us. The poor guy was clearly in need of some form of gratification as his shifty eyes continued to dart surrepticiously at us. All conversation stopped as we quietly agreed to overtake him and walk briskly towards our destination. So it was that by the time we arrived at Coyote, no one was eager to head off on her own way home. We stopped for a drink and stayed for an hour longer than planned. It was a good evening among equals. An early start to the weekend.

This site says it all. [via HL]


In a moment of weakness, I sent him an email. It was a very belated reply to an email dated January 14. Actually, that's not quite accurate. It was more like a belated re-reply to an email dated January 14. I said I was going through some old email and stumbled on his email which made me all sentimental. The truth is I trawled through my email inbox just to find his email. It was a pre-meditated moment of weakness and folly. For a few good hours today, I couldn't remember why I said "goodbye" and wondered if I might have acted rashly. Was vd getting to me? Had it clouded my judgement? Would he reply? I dared not hope. And if he did, what would he say? Would he drown me in the cesspool of humiliation I created for myself? Foolish woman! What was I thinking? But I had nothing to worry about. He didn't reply. For all my agonising, he probably looked at the sender and deleted the email without even opening it. And why should he after my cryptic and abrupt sms sent at one o'clock on a Sunday morning? It's funny. While you're still in a relationship, all you can see is where things are going wrong. When you're out of it, all you can remember is how wonderful you were together, even if these were only a few good short-lived moments.

Valentine's Day. It is my least favourite day of the year. Candle-lit dinners, over-priced flowers, over-sized hearts looming over you as if to dare you not to have a Valentine. I'm a grinch about it. But it wasn't always this way. When I was a kid, I loved everything about it -- the pink hearts and red roses, flying cupids and heart-shaped chocolates. Even when I grew up. I remember hand-sewing a heart-shaped red cushion trimmed with white lace and on which I embroidered "J" for my boyfriend, James. My fingers were cramped for weeks while I worked on the love cushion. I didn't love him but I didn't know it then. I just wanted to be in love. I was in love with the idea of falling in love. My last Valentine came and went when I was twenty. He went to Canada to further his studies. We drifted apart. it was inevitable. Since then, I've been in relationships where I wasn't his only Valentine. I received flowers but candle-lit dinners (when they happened) had to take place on another day of the week. So this year, I started the year seeing someone. As we approached February and Valentines day messages and commercials started to waft through the air, I began to worry, for the first time in a very long time, if I would have a Valentine. When you don't have a special someone, you don't worry about these things. You just go out or stay home or do whatever it is you do, on your own or with friends. But when you have a special person, everything changes. Suddenly, you're hoping he'll ask you out. You're hoping that it will be a romantic dinner with flowers, the kind of Valentine's Day just a year ago, you dismissed as a waste of good money and a pandering to commericialism. You want all this because anything else might mean you're not special. I looked at his photo tonight and wondered, was I special? It's foolishness, of course. But it is hard to be immuned to all that's coming through the media. I've been getting text messages since last week, soliciting for me to send love messages, flowers, etc, to my girlfriend all week long for next to nothing. They must have me down as a lesbian on their database. But I don't have to worry about that anymore. I know exactly what I'll be doing come Saturday. No waiting for him to call. No hoping for flowers. No hoping for a fancy dinner. Just a night out with the girls.

I just spent an hour late this afternoon debating on IM with an American guy living in Manila, who loves his President, hates religion (especially catholicism), supports the occupation of Iraq, believes in a one-government world, supports the use of force/war to attain this one-world, regards Asians as the inferior race with the smallest average penis size, considers them the most racist of all races (because of their small penis size) and accuses the Chinese of being dangerous imperialists. And he would love to meet me, an Asian Chinese Catholic female who hates his President and opposes war and the occupation of Iraq. And his reason for not believing in religion? No one has ever had dinner with God.

Last Friday, I was moaning to a friend about needing to get back in shape in a hurry. He and his friend looked at me and thought I'd gone mad. In their eyes, I was slim and in great shape. His friend wondered how I could have such a twisted self-perception that I was fat. I clarified that I didn't think I was fat but that I had put on weight in the last three or four months and I wanted to look as good as I did last Summer. It's true, I had gained weight but I realised for the first time, that I really didn't think I was fat. Why did I use to think I was fat? Then today, I was IM-ing with my ex of nine years and he reminded me that he'd seen me in my "chubby" days and my "fatsy" days, and then I remembered how I got my self-image. When I pointed out that he was bad for my ego and that at least the men here considered me slim, he retorted that they were "all liars". How sweet. Now, I remember why he is branded "ex". No good ego-basher! It's a wonder women are all screwed up with unhealthy diets and self-image! Just look at who we have for role models! Karen Mok is a poster girl for a slimming centre. She is pencil thin!!! And last week, a Hong Kong chap asked me to dance. We started with some idle catch-up chit chat. He asked where I've been all this time and I said oh nothing, I have just been lazy, and without batting an eyelash, he said he noticed! Time for the fat club.

In this modern day and age, nearly every communication is conducted electronically. Even talking on the phone is passe with more and more people preferring to send text messages via their mobile phones instead. Unfortunately, that seems to cut across even to inter-personal relationships. In Singapore, a muslim man can sue his wife for divorce via sms. Since our first meeting just over four weeks ago, my main form of communication with Blue Shirt has been via email or sms. In part, this was because I'd spent much of the time travelling. But even when we were in the same country, sms seemed to be his preferred mode of communication. So it seemed befitting that my final communication with him should also be via sms. At one a.m. today, having waited more than twenty-four hours for a promised call that never came, I said 'goodbye' to Blue Shirt. This will go down as my shortest-lived relationship and the first I've ever ended.

In the meantime, salsagod continues to be an entertaining distraction. Last night, he humoured me and wore to salsa the black sweater I suggested. The same sweater that causes him to look particularly striking. I tried hard not to stare but as I haven't seen him on the dance floor in months, it was very difficult indeed. I had one dance with him but was a complete clutz. In my defense, I am still quite ill and haven't found back the strength in my limbs. It didn't help that I'd spent three hours earlier in the afternoon at dance rehearsal either. I was breathless by the end of that dance. Later came a really fast number and one of the dance instructors hopped over and led me to the dance floor. I was sure my lungs would give out if my heart didn't go first. I was seeing stars by the time we were done and completely winded this time. I sat for a little longer then left for the night. It was an early night.

I used to love the idea of winter. Having come from a place where the only weather change was rain or no rain, moving to a sub-tropical temperate climate with seasonal fluctuations in temperature was a welcome climatic deviation. Winter fashion was one of the main reasons for desiring colder days. I loved the feel of a heavy wool coat on my shoulders and a pair of sexy leather boots to strut around in. But this being my third winter in Hong Kong and one of the coldest, I finally understand how anyone can look forward to warmer days. It is just above ten degrees today. Water from the tap turns my fingers blue. Most of my food doesn't need refrigeration. And hot food turns cold in minutes. Some even coagulate like my creamy pasta dinner last night. I have not stepped out of my apartment since my return from Beijing Wednesday night. I plan to change that tonight, it being Friday and all. I might even stop by the office this afternoon as the temperature has just hit the first "teen". I don't believe I have paid so much attention to the weather forecast until now. In Singapore, except for the monsoon season, the weather forecast was always the same -- "fine with scattered showers in some areas". During the monsoon season, you can expect it to be cloudy and raining in most parts.

Just received an email from a friend on the death of another friend. Edmond Branson Jr. was my age. He was an accomplished musician who played several instruments. I have no details on his passing, nor did I know Edmond very well but it is a tragic loss regardless. Edmond used to play the drums for our church choir many years ago. He's been married no more than five years. How difficult this must be for his young wife. I'm not sure if they had any kids. I'm not even sure if it would be a good thing or a bad if they did. Sad news, indeed.

Beijing weather was a bitch! It was my first time in sub-zero temperatures and last night, it went down to minus fifteen or something equally severe. So I'm ill again. Got home close to two this morning and been sleeping since! Hong Kong weather isn't much better. It was eight degrees when I got in last night and now, just ten. I have no motivation to cook nor to step outdoors for food. So, Nissin cup noodles will have to do. Lost my voice completely. My throat is killing me. My head is heavy with snort and my chest is congested as well. Not happy. Time to get back under the covers.