- Veni, vidi, vicious -

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat.
And we must take the current when it serves,

.... or lose the ventures before us.

- The Lost World -

At the end of my workday on Friday I found myself leaving in the manner of one hitting a lemon with a tuning fork, in that I struck a sour note. A deathly silence fell unto us all as a pall seemed to descend upon our environment -- and we knowingly but inevitably slipped right into it, one tentative and unwilling step at a time.

In an instant, a deluge of events laid siege on the heavily-fortified office like a flash flood mercilessly pounding on the sorry, hapless inhabitants of the city that could not get away. New assignments, the contents of which none of us had an inkling about. An accident, albeit one which thankfully severely bruised no more than metal and ego. Unanticipated pecuniary investments; to wit, an infringement of prior agreement. Officious operators of the national gas providers whose delight in sending me on an merry-go-round bordering on interminable was matched by my scarcely-inhibited rage.

I thought at first that the Gods empathised with us for the rain they sent brought a welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat that had befallen the capital in days past. I quickly realised my folly in disregarding the cynicism that many have established as a defining charateristic in preference of the more romantic notion of Higher Order sympathy as the Rain Lords wantonly proved more than equal to their Solar compatriots, sending their scions down at a such a force as to compound our misery in ways I'd never previously thought possible.

A beckoning weekend that portends so much, and yet my newly-bred distrust of temptation hinders the marauding progress of the marching band that resides in the dank recesses where my brain used to be. Cynicism notwithstanding, we shall see.

- Yesterday was once tomorrow -

A brief respite from the mundanity and monotony of database work.

Dinner last night was interesting enough; she provided surprisingly good company. To be fair, anyone would, when the alternative is supping alone for the 3rd night running in a hollow, empty, abandoned apartment whose floorboards creak under your every step and whose walls provide a reflecting surface for your voice. But getting to know her was pretty interesting, and by the end of the night she must have told me more about herself than she's told anyone in a while now.

Insofar as simple boredom and abject frustration go, it was these that catalysed our meeting along Oxford Street: Two very lost individuals, one overworked, one over-MSN-ed. The allure of shopping proved a little too hard to resist, and frankly, when the spectre of Oxford Street raises its ugly head, who are we to resist its beckoning alley-fingers?

Ah well, that's that. Time to get back to the story... Or work. Hahaha who'm I trying to kid. The story it is.

- "In short, that was all" -

In the wake of the breakdown of the EU summit on the proposed constitution, I see it only fitting to heed Blair's call for "a time of reflection" by conducting my annual review.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times in this tale of more than two cities.
'twas a year of missions and motives, of revelation and sudden enlightenment, of foolish obscurity that transformed into blindingly obvious transparency in a blink; 'twas a year of intense extravagance and crippling frugality; 'twas a year of snap decisions and bad decisions; 'twas a year of image and the sinister shadows it cast; 'twas a year of shoes to fill: the big ones of your own, the expensive ones of others; 'twas a year of due diligence delivered and steely determination that at times gave way to destined despair.

'twas a year of favours, fallouts and failures.
'twas a year of the awakening, having suffered fools.

- Odyssey -

[ A cluttered room. A sleeping figure. A sudden mobile phone shock, not the first of the night, leaves the now-vexatious ringtone incessantly chiming in the ear. It is bright out, yet it ougthn't be so.
The dishevelled figure begrudgingly rises, and surveys the mess of his surroundings. ]

It is bright out, but it shouldn't be so. And why have I been roused at this godawful hour? There is a distinct injustice about this. This better be good.

[ He glowers, in part because his eyes are as yet unadjusted to the sudden onslaught of sunlight, in part because he is unaccustomed to leaving his bed before 6 for less than 10 grand. He takes the call, and he conducts the hour-long conversation in the odd hissing manner of one suddenly jolted out of slumber and forced to think hard. ]

A sense of dread comes over me as I come to remember what lies ahead. Let's get this out of the way then.

[ He heaves and puffes, but makes it down 5 floors, luggage in tow. With a little difficulty, he flags down a taxi. ]

I eye him suspiciously. In these here foreign parts, you can never be too sure.

"Strand, mate. And step on it."

He is hardly impressed, but has no reason to be - his driving is hardly impressive.
I am thrown back as he negotiates corners like a Brahmin avoiding a leprosy-stricken pariah hobo.
The meter skips like a youngling with her first magic possessed rope. My heart skips with it.
I instinctively feel for my wallet.
It's gonna be a long day.

- A world where form is that which dictates -

Yet more plagiarism, this time from a friend's blog - in turn lifted off The Book.

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewellery and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit

If only.

- My life in boxes -

Lifted off "Life of Pi" (with apologies to Yann Martel):

'Hediger (1950) says, "When two creatures meet, the one that is able to intimidate its opponent is recognised as socially superior, so that a social decision does not always depend on a fight; an encounter in some circumstances may be enough." '

The animals in us concur.

- The EU Constipation -

As easily as that, a new chapter in his life was written as, an hour into his first day of work at the Singapore High Commission, he was thrown headfirst into the deep end, a 5-page paper to write, a deadline to meet. And so it was that his penchant for going into overdrive kicked in almost immediately as he pored over newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping and furiously scribbled notes he later found entirely unintelligible about the French and Dutch rejections of the EU Constitution in their respective national referendums and the expected fallout on the EU as an entity and its implications on the UK and the Blair government, due to assume Presidency of the EU in less than a month.
He listened, ears pricked, as people recounted fanciful tales of their experiences fending off dragons with red tape and pacifying centaurs with conciliatory gestures.
Most importantly, he learnt about the inner workings of a diplomatic organisation. And swore to be diabolically secretive about this new information. If not for the fact that it was classified, then for the whole cloak and dagger thing that made things ever so mysterious.

103/48 E 

- An Akin -

Ambition.
Drive.
Passion.
Frustration.
Anger.

How did Anakin lop off Dooku's head so easily?
How is it that Windu very nearly killed Sidius, yet Yoda almost lost to him?
Anakin is Anakin. Obi-wan is Obi-wan, for goodness' sake. There is no way that fight could have gone the way it did.
The Jedi left him for dead.
The Dark side of the Force is strong here. Once again, the Sith will rule.

- Who or what are menads? -

Ho hum. Time to try my hand at writing mundane. Fear not, for I will do my utmost to incline this entry toward dementedness (distinctly different from dementia - if it'd been this, this blog would be filled with nothing but the exclamation Honk! ) without actually causing it to topple over.

Against my better senses, I decided to venture past my safety of my door and conduct some of that activity the riffraff are wont to call grocery-shopping. Preposterous, I know, but it had to be done.

One step. One step is all it took for me to experience what it must be like for a potential amputee, shortly before knife meets skin, when that creeping numbness leads to loss of feeling in each of the digits, then limbs, then pretty much every part of the body which hitherto was considered useful. For the uninformed among us, the issue here is that the weather here in London has strangely gone the way of some of my old classmates - very odd, and difficult to live with.

The voyage to Sainsbury's provided further testament to the wonkiness of the weather - some dude, wrapped up in layer upon layer, with a scarf tied firmly around his neck. Which immediately brought 3 thoughts to my very troubled mind:
(i) His very affectionate boyfriend had attempted to stake his claim on the poor sap
(ii) He didn't think his turkey neck did justice to the rest of his fabuloso booty
(iii) A frankly sad attempt at suicide had met with inevitable failure when, not comprehending the fundamentals behind such an activity, he had been rendered unconscious, finally losing the energy to tug at the ends of the scarf that is required to ensure terminal exhalation.

My tenure as a pedestrian of the hallowed halls of Sainsbury's were brought to an untimely end when my arms gave way to the unexpected weight of the basket, the onset of which was brought about by my penchant for excessive and unnecessary addition of items to said basket, a characteristic of all my shopping trips which I am yet to rectify. Pray tell, how do you resist 50 bales of yarn going for 5 quid?

As is always the case, the checking out at Sainsbury's was a tense, nerve-wracking affair, as the race to see if I'd backed the right horse was almost too much to take. And as is always the case, my horse died before the finish line. Note to self: partiality toward the underdog notwithstanding, stop backing the dark horses. No, that was NOT a racist comment. Please don't rescind whatever you can rescind. *looks around furtively to see if anyone's watching*

It may be unfathomable. It may sound absurd. It may seem irrational. Nonetheless, there are places which for some odd reason make you happy. Like Borders in Singapore. Like New York (but ok, that's not entirely the same). My happy place here is Marks and Spencer, which was my next destination for their fabled Triple Chocolate Crunch. the packing of which for some reason has undergone a makeover. If TCC can do it, why not SDRR? Hmm.

Interestingly enough, I had exactly 1.99 pounds (darn these Singaporean laptop with no pound sign) in coins to pay for the TCC. You cannot begin to comprehend my ecstasy (hey, what with the exams going on, every little anomaly from the doom and gloom is enough to drive you crazy with joy). THIS IS A SIGN. Today 1.99, tomorrow the world!!! Hello Hitler. Hello Mussolini. Take a number and the world will be with you shortly. Then again, with the weather going to the dogs as it is, maybe I'll set my sights on another world instead. I wonder if them Martians are looking for a new furry green leader. Hmmm.....

Out of sheer convenience, my feet found their way to Pret A Manger, which served my purpose anyway, as I extended my pursuit of the Baby Jesus. The attendants said he wasn't around, and asked if I'd settle for a sandwich instead. So I grabbed a New Ham, Cheese and Mustard. Come to think of it, Pret's New Ham, Cheese and Mustard doesn't seem to contain any Cheese at all. This shouldn't be the way of the world (a good thing, then, that I gave up on taking it over a paragraph ago). I disdain thee, O Sandwich. Oh wait, there is cheese after all. Ok, I take that back. I don't disdain you. In fact, I quite dain you. And I think once you get acquainted with my insides, you will dain me too.

The road between my place and Sainsbury's seemed to have been lengthened in my short time shopping. Confound all this newfangled technology! We really ought to go back to our Amish ways. Back then, all roads led to Rome (though I don't quite see why people would want to go see the Romans so much, I hear they don't shower much) and things were so much simpler.

On the way back, I saw a bunch of kids going through their paces for P.E. again. I watched, astounded, as a few of them managed a full 30 metres without wheezing. The bubble that is my ego is no more.

And to end it all off, a poser for the profligate post-paper party planner people: Who or what are menads? Answers on a postcard, and the first to get it right wins a menad. If it's a tangible item, that is.