I had this post figured out weeks ago. At least I thought I had. The subject was to be “Battle of the Malaysians: Kiasu WIN”, and I was going to wax laksaphorical about how amazing Kiasu is and how, given that I’m already marrying Koba, I’d still definitely have an affair with Kiasu… but my plans went a little awry.
I’d already been to C&R and Kopi Tiam a number of times, and… meh, nothing impressive. And although I’d heard very average reviews of Rasa Sayang, I thought I’d give them a go before blogging about Kiasu‘s awesomeness, not because I’m a hokkien prawn mee slut and I’d have it just about anywhere, but because I wanted to be 100% diplomatic, eat there and have my god given right to diss it.
But the unexpected unexpectedly happened (don’t you hate that?). Rasa Sayang was good.
Do you ever feel like you’re not in control? I mean like really not in control? Like you thought you, anally-retentive-super-organised you, had everything under control and you’re wrong? With your outlook diary and phone diary (ok, so they’re synced anyway) and diary diary and lists of to-do’s and actions… and you’re not in control??? What is wrong with you?
Ok, who am I kidding here, we’re not talking about you, we’re talking about me.
Sometimes I am so completely overwhelmed with my job that I don’t know what to do. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s like the Gods of a thousand panic attacks lashing down on me. Me. There is only one of me, and far too many to-do’s to be done by one of me. Sometimes, I’m so overwhelmed, I cry. Well, on the inside anyway (because I’m Chinese and we’re thrifty, and I refuse to buy proper eye make-up remover so I can’t use waterproof mascara, so now I can’t cry in public).
Sometimes I just close my slanty eyes and hope for the best.
One of the things that still completely amazes me about living in London is its ridiculously close proximity to all things European. And considering the fact that I think everything is in Europe, I propel myself at every opportunity to travel (because travel is why I’m living 500 gazillion miles away from my friends and family). You need only say “hey Cat, do you want to g—-” “Yes! YES I’ll go!”, it’s that easy. Because of this, I’m so in the red that I am red (oh wait, that’s from peeling beetroots the other night), but I also get to go to Stockholm, Helsinki, Amsterdam, Alicante, Vegas, San Fran and LA, all in the next ten weeks!
Did your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers on the internet? And not just any strangers, but guys in particular, because isn’t that what guys do? Prowl the internet day and night, seeking out the next naive young thang? And don’t ever everneverevermeet up with someone you met on the internet? My mum tells me that all the time.
Hah. Well, I laugh in the face of danger.
I think it’s a vast improvement that I no longer spend 80% of my waking hours on facebook. I mean, that’s just so 2008. But in the name of social media trends, I now spend about 90% of my time in twitterverse, tweeting my minute-by-minute happenings to all of the zero people who listen.
Tempting fate the way I do, a couple of weeks back, I twittered, dare I even say I direct-messaged a guy on twitter. In fact I messaged two guys. And we agreed to meet. The venue? Lunch at The Hawksmoor.
I think the thing I miss the most about living in Sydney is the hot summers, spent with days lazing on the beach (my favourite: Clovelly), then heading home to enjoy the balmy sunset on the balcony with a freshly squeezed chilled watermelon juice in one hand (vodka, rum, tequila optional but highly recommended). Now that I think about it, I also miss the food, the seafood, the culture, all the beaches, the weather and of course, all of my friends.
Stop it Cat, you’re making me homesick.
Anyway, having now spent the better part of two summers in London, I’ve finally accepted that this is as good as it gets. So in an act of embracement like no other, I blended myself a watermelon juice and with predicted sunshine and a high of 24 degrees today, I toasted the London summer.
what’s talkin?