ok see i've been blog surfing and have arrived at the inevitable epiphany (oooh big word). that nobody likes a blogger who constantly fills his little lot in cyberspace with cliched and uninspired rantings about how miserable life is and what not. so i've decided to put an end to that and explore the other happy side of my life which is, actually, pretty substantial.

yesterday toingee came over again, confirming suspicions that he is actually not a cornell student anymore and is just bumming around in sunny ithaca until the PAP decides to name him our new prime minister. he's like how free lor. so yah he comes over and brings with him a pack of those Shakespearean poetic magnet thingys that you rearrange to form cheem sounding crap on your refrigerator. why refrigerator? so that every single unsuspecting human in your house will be treated to your miserable attempts at poetry whenever he/she needs ice/milk/ice-cream/yoghurt/fruits (sorry our fridge isn't particularly well-stocked). we sit on the floor painstakingly tearing apart those little pieces, and like the A1 lit students in our glorious past, came up with a poem that would make Ms Janelle Ho weep in pride.

our baby!

due to toingee's poor photo-taking skills the photo looks like it's 50 years old and i doubt anyone can really make out the poem. but no matter, a picture paints a thousand words, no matter how discoloured it is :) anyway sera insists she hasn't read it, even though i'm absolutely positive she has stopped by the fridge at least 20 times in the past day. perhaps because of the objectional nature of the poem (tsk toingee i never knew you had it in you), or perhaps the giant mess of little magnets on the fridge were a little too camouflaged. zhenying on the other hand, took the proactive feminist approach of changing every single provocative word in the poem, thereby destroying every single rhyming line, not to mention its entire structure. kudos for effort! :) yongchuan did absolutely nothing. 10 points to zhenying for her wanton disregard of free speech in defense of the female species.

my dad is in israel, and i hear he's been impressing his israeli aircraft industry colleagues with his Chinese painting skills. testimony to the fact that 1. my dad is amazing 2. money isn't the only way to settle business contracts 3. chinese are taking over the world 4. my dad is amazing. i still remember how pissed i was when he berated me for drawing a swallow flying around a tree. (the swallow was half the size of the tree).... now of course, i draw a little better and my dad is at age 56 about to make a smashing debut into the israeli chinese painting scene. yay! to all my engineering friends out there, who says engineers can't draw?

ok back to my sad life as a struggling architecture sophomore (i always thot sophomore was some kind of choir position, eg alto/baritone/that screeching ah lian)...