Hello TOL it's been a while. A long, long while. And I'm terribly sorry I'm terribly bad at blogging.

But here's something quite exciting to share.

Evidence of what love for music could bring.

Two complete strangers, connected only through love for one certain band, and through TOL, and well to some degree, the pains of studying in law school..

ARE GOING TO MEET UP AND HANG OUT IN HONG KONG!

Yes, this terrible TOL blogger here is going to meet up with one awesome TOL blogger for hopefully, lots of love and laughs.

I'm excited for this, YinMay, I hope you are too.

(:

It's been a while! I was holding my breath while trying to log in and by the fourth attempt I was turning blue. That's how long I hadn't been on. I'm sorry TOL! I've been busy but that's not really an excuse now, is it?

So I'm sitting here, sipping on hot soup, pretending the stack of papers and notes in front of me are non-existence,  and wondering just what I would be blogging about after such a long hiatus (from what now, hmm).

Here's my line of thoughts:

The TWLOHA Day was two days ago.. damn! I could have posted a picture but now that's a tad bit late.

Or, I could blog about food, there's this blog that I'm addicted to reading: www.joythebaker.com/blog, where Joy regularly updates quirky tidbits about her life, along with mouthwatering pictures and recipes that you'd be dying to try out.

Hm, what about the amazingness that is called "Owl City". He is freaking amazing. He's coming to Hong Kong, and unfortunately for me and my friends, the tickets are sold out. DAMN IT. WE KNEW WE SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN TO IT STRAIGHT AWAY.

Or maybe I should just tell a joke. I was at the Take Out Comedy the other day, which is this little room in Soho, amongst all the quaint little restaurants and rowdy bars, where people walk in and do stand-up comedy. Some were hilarious, some were a bit forced, but there was this one joke that was SO LAME that it got everyone cracking.

OKAY! Sorry that really was lame. My notes are a-calling.

I'll drop in again.

Sometime.

Hopefully, a bit more often.

<3

I read this joke somewhere. 'Did you know the word gullible said slowly sounds like green bears?' I tried it, twice, got the joke and laughed. I blundered, but that's okay, because I learned. And the next time this happens, I'd be the one telling the joke, not falling for it.

Saw him last night at Volar and he was ridiculously good.

I love all these amazing people who're finally hitting up Hong Kong.

It's awesome yo.

How often do you get to go up close and personal with Kanye West's DJ?

Sad to say I made the worst decision last night by not bringing my camera. My friends haven't posted up their pictures yet so for the moment, this picture from BPM magazine will have to do.

Must give a shout out to DJ Enso (click here for myspace link) as well. He rocked the house down before and after A-Trak was done spinning.

<3

Uhm yes, from the title, I admit I lead a sad life.

i spend the better part of my days on YouTube.

And other various sites like Facebook and my newfound addiction, Twitter.

Did I say addiction. I meant addition.

But anyway.

I'm here to tell you about the awesomeness who is called Natalie.

Go watch her on www.youtube.com/user/communitychannel

She makes me laugh.

Beware her 'your mom' jokes. But well, they're classier than typical yo mama ones.

(:

愛. 樂. 樂.' - Love. Joy. Music.

Some members of the Hong Kong Pop Winds Orchestra hosted a concert series, believing in the power of music, its power to heal, to touch people, to spread love around. I loved the name of the series- '愛. 樂. 樂.' It embodied everything I believed music could be. Holding so much potential and emotion within the melodies, within the lyrics, influencing you and taking you in with every note it sounds. 

My clarinet teacher was part of this venture, indeed I think she was one of the masterminds behind it, and I was ecstatic when she asked whether I wanted to help out. I literally pounced on the chance. High school back then made volunteer work such a chore but I wouldn't be lying if I said I thoroughly enjoyed the work. The feeling of having helped out, of making a difference in someone's life was really more than I could ask for. That day, they were playing at Queen Elizabeth's Hospital. It was near Easter as well, so we had a basket of chocolate eggs and bunnies to give out to the patients and staff who came to listen to us. We first visited the wards where children with cancer stayed at, and being used to associate hospitals with older, more wrinkled patients, it was a little disconcerting to see kids so young look so frail. Children should have boundless energy, they should be running around, screaming, scraping their knees; but these kids just looked pale and fragile, some didn't even have the energy to sit up long enough for the half hour performance. There was a toddler, who just learnt to walk properly. And he was there, at the ward. It was painful to wonder what he would have to endure, even though at that moment, he was wobbling around on his two unsteady feet, laughing, and surveying the performance with curious eyes.

I loved the song selections. Being part of the Pop Winds Orchestra, the songs they played were naturally popular ones that everyone knows, or at least has heard of. The songs were all encouraging ones, ones that spoke of dreams, of wishes, of pastimes; ones that spoke of endless love; ones that spoke of inner beauty. Then there were the kiddy songs, like 'Ponyo', where the kids cheered and clapped. I was only another spectator, handing out chocolates occasionally and carrying equipment, but I got goosebumps from listening to them play, I could feel their compassion and I was just as excited as if I had been the one playing the songs. The crowd they drew was amazing, and apparently they were getting loyal fans who turned up to every one of their performances, grannies who would come in with their wheelchairs and sit, front row and center, enjoy the music, and laugh at the jokes made onstage. It was all quite heartwarming.

My teacher said I could possibly play with them next time. If she's not just kidding, it would be pretty amazing. I feel like after all these months writing with The One Love, I'm finally getting some action all the way here, across the oceans, far far away from New York City.

"So tell me, what exactly is a date?" Points incredulously across the table. "Look at two of them, all dressed up and they say they aren't on a date."

"Well maybe it has to do with the attraction? Maybe the two people have to have feelings for each other and make it be known."

"That's not how we do it in Canada. See, if a guy and a girl go out for dinner, or go to the movies, just the two of them, that's a date. If they like each other and go on multiple dates then they're seeing each other. And when they realize that they have feelings for each other and decide to like, take it one step further, they become official. Simple as that."

The table goes silent, struggling to come up with an answer. Middle Eastern music pounded away obliviously. I breathe out slowly, mouth full of the heady scent of apple mint smoke. "I don't think we know what a date is either."

Because it can't really be as simple as that, can it? If it were, the nights at Sahara would be dates. The walks could be dates too. Was going to Tsui Wah a date then? Was going to the beach a date? What if the bill was split? What if the guy already has a girlfriend? If it were as simple as that, anything goes.

And that's just not right. It's not right when you don't know where you stand. It could rightly be labelled as misleading. There has to be attraction, regardless of it being wishful thinking, being rather one-sided. But then again it's a bitch for both sides when one believes it a date and the other thinks, "it's just dinner, what the fuck."

Maybe it's time for all of us to learn to say the words out loud.

"I'm asking you out on a date." How hard could it be?

I stared down the magazine rack and finally decided to pick a new magazine, one that I hadn't read before. I was getting a bit let down by most of the ones that I used to read anyway. I either finish them way too fast because of shitty content where pictures > words, and end up feeling like I wasted $60 for a picture book; or that they feature the same celebrities on a much too regular basis. (To date I think I own 5 copies where Lindsay Lohan's face screams back at me.)

So I picked NYLON this time, because the magazine looked specially plain and sophisticated next to all the neon colored HOW TO GET PERFECT ABS IN FIVE DAYS! and airbrushed blond-haired celebrities grinning the toothiest grins. NYLON featured Kristen Stewart looking like what I imagined she'd look like in Breaking Dawn when it comes out. And no don't get me wrong I didn't pick it because Kristen Stewart was on the cover and nor am I a Twilight fan, thanks. I read them, yes, but I'm not crazy about them.

And the magazine proved to be quite awesome I must say. It's one of those that I don't manage to finish within an hour of purchase, it's one of those that I muse over because it was actually artsy, unlike the generic aesthetics of most magazines (or the ones that I used to read); and the best thing is, they actually have interesting content. Having said that, it is a fashion magazine where fashion takes up most of the 220 pages of the magazine, music probably took up 20 pages.

There was also a really well written article in it, about the writer's history with fashion mistakes and do's and don'ts. She's only 20. That got me wondering what I am doing with my life.

Summer 2009. Bum around, intern at a law firm, or try to work up the courage to send in my CV to a local magazine?

p.s. Oh and I just realized I kind of publicly announced that I wasn't a Twilight fan. I hope that didn't ofeen anyone. Because as much as I liked the plot, I just didn't like her way of writing.

I had this conception, that whoever thought up Valentine's Day probably just wanted to cash in and make money. Inflating prices of chocolates and roses, having everything decorated in the most hideous shades of pink, the Hallmark cards, the forever friends teddies, special Valentine's teddies. Even Facebook has taken the opportunity to sell CoverGirl & Barbie ads with the free gifts application.

But then again, I guess all that cynicism came from not having a Valentine. Every Valentine's Day, you see pairs of people walking along acting affectionate. Flower deliveries inevitably around every corner. But today something felt different. While crossing the road, this dude walked past me with the hugest bouquet of roses in one hand and an even huger smile on his face, and instead of feeling slightly nauseous from the great display, I felt envious. And happy. I was happy for him, and happy for the recipient of those roses. She's one lucky girl. She'll get to be all smug about it, hold the bouquet in one arm and dangle the dude on her other, gloat in the pool of attention that's shooting her way.

Because really, there's no wrong in having a bit more love around, is there?

In a way, I'm glad I chose to stay home tonight, with absolutely no plans, curled up on the sofa with a book, while my cat circled around my legs trying to get my attention. After a week of canned soup, cup noodles and late dinners at school, home cooked food tasted extra special as well.

Happy Valentine's Day TOL.
To those who got to spend this special day with their special someones, I genuinely am happy for you, because really, love isn't that easy to come by.
To those who didn't get to spend this day with their special someones, let's be sad together. (No, I'm kidding) I admire your strength and everything. To believe in love that much to make these things work.
To those who could only blame it on bad timing, I feel you.
To those single girlies out there, love is being elusive but we will catch up to it one day. We will.

I remember I used to tell people I sprain my ankle at least once a year. And always around the start of the year. The first time was when I was 12, during a volleyball match, when I jumped up in an attempt to spike and landed on my side instead of on both feet. My ankle was swollen for weeks and my swimming coach got really pissed off. "What were you even thinking, playing volleyball? With so much spare time I'd rather you came to more swim practices and now you've gone and injured yourself."

The next year I was fooling around and balancing on the curb, and.. well, you know the rest of the story.

So yes, I used to have this crazy theory where I had to hurt my ankle at the start of every year and then get good luck for the rest of the year.

Anyway yesterday, a few of us went to Sahara after dinner and hung around til 1ish. The last orders long over, the shisha getting ashy and the drinks swept away, we paid, got up and walked out into the chilly air. I was feeling quite warm and happy; warm from the smoky alcove, happy with the loot of birthday presents I have bundled up in my arms from wonderful wonderful people. There I was, one moment arms linked with one of my best friends and telling her how much I'll miss her when she leaves for New York in less than twelve hours, the next moment stumbling forward on the steep slope and yelping because, yes I've done it again, I've managed to sprain my foot.

I was alright though. I could still walk. A minute or two later, the pain's barely there anymore. I would have walked back to my dorms only I was too tired.

And then today on my way home, my ankle just gave way. The very same ankle, down yet another rather steep slope. Now my ankle hurts. And it's swollen.



This double sprain better bring about luck.

So I hadn't really had the chance to read lately. When I was younger I read a lot. I literally camped out in the school library and signed up to be an assistant librarian. Later I realized how nerdy that looked and stopped reading altogether. No, I'm kidding. Later I just couldn't find the time to read that much anymore, and even if I did, I was too brain dead to read anything more than a chick flick, which half the time really sucked, and that put me off reading a lot of stuff.

But I found a pretty good chick flick lately. It's called 'The Chocolate Run' by Dorothy Koomson. I have the rest of her books and I quite liked them as well so naturally I picked it up because I know of her, and because there was the word 'chocolate' in it. It's rather ironic I bought it the same day me, my best friend and our guy friend had this rather confrontational talk, but that's fate screwing me over. Bad timing, but not for the first time.

But I really liked the book for its story plot, and the way it managed to express a lot of things I felt, but never found the right words to say. I wasn't exactly the Amber in the story, I wasn't quite the commitment-phobe, nor quite the chocoholic; but I was her, stuck with overanalzing things, stuck with not knowing her own heart, stuck with trying to please everyone and help everyone but not herself. And then, I wasn't like her. Unlike her, I never really had the courage to face confrontations. I couldn't stand still while watching truths unfold right in front of me. I tend to turn mute, pretend nothing happened, make myself move on and say, let us all just stay friends. When things got rough, when things got messy, all I wanted to do was to get out of it and return to how things were. How when we were all still happy and comfortable in each others' presence, when we were friends, people whom I could trust and who trust in return. Yes I know honesty works too, when you voice out all your conflicts and opinions, and when you could take that all in and still love your friends for who they are.. that probably is the best solution. That's what Amber did, and she got her happy ending.

Then again, fairy tale endings never do happen in real life now, do they?

I care about my friends too much to want to jeopardize everything we had in a matter of days. Even if it means having to make believe, so much that I've begun to believe in it myself.

It finally started getting a tad bit chilly. It freaking felt like summer before today. I bought a new coat some weeks ago and I think I'll get to wear it tomorrow for the first time. Yay. Anyway, sorry for the lack of updates because firstly I was having a bit of a writer's block, and then secondly I was just too lazy for my own good. Ever since exams were done I've just been bumming around, waking at ungodly hours, and spending way too much time on Facebook.

I have to announce, Facebook has officially taken over life. I never realized I had 700 friends until now. 700 friends, with approximately 100 I've actually talked to in real life, and maybe 20 that I talk and meet with regularly. But with the invention of the 'wall', it's like a whole redefinition of what friends are. And with the Top Friends application, it's like Myspace Top 8 all over again.

And status updates. Now everyone knows what I'm doing, what I'm eating, what I'm feeling at 4.02 pm in the afternoon.

Tagged pictures. Now everyone knows how drunk I was last night. Untag. Untag. Untag.

Facebook events. Gone are sending out invitations or calling up people to see whether they're free on a particular day or not. Everything's down on facebook, you know who's attending, who's not, the time, the date, the place, the dresscode. Everything. Oh and the very last line, for questions, call this number. No calls needed, no nothing, just one click of the 'attending' button, and then you're expected to show up to said event.

Causes- now I know what you support and what you don't.

Fan pages. I know your favorite band and favorite movie. Ooh, here's a Twillight fan, I'll add her to my friends' list and make it 701.

Sometimes I think it's all so crazy. How your whole social life could be planned out with Facebook, your every move, every conversation documented on such a virtual, such a public place. Sometimes it doesn't make much sense to me. Not that I don't appreciate it obviously. I've rediscovered quite a lot of old friends, kindergarten school mates; or kept in touch with people that I know had it not been for Facebook, I would have lost touch with ages ago.

I wonder how it would be like if one day, everyone just logged off and did everything the traditional way. Call up old friends, plan events by sending out actual invitations, help a cause by actually putting in hands on work. Develop pictures, have those with you looking like an utter drunken fool RIPPED.

A MUCH NEEDED BREAK FROM DEPRESSING LAW BOOKS.

Something that made me laugh today:

"My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far today, I have finished two bags of M&M's and a chocolate cake. I feel better already."
-Dave Barry

I miss reading his weekly columns. They were funny.

And that, folks, is all the time I can spare.

Back to Human Rights. Oh the irony. Exams are inhumane.

Given that (Red) is an Aids charity?

You never feel it coming because it's a way too warm here in Hong Kong for Christmas to take its full effect until quite late. It's still quite warm although it's been getting a tad bit cooler. Everyone's in boots and scarves though, but I think that's more a fashion statement than an actual need. I, on the extreme side, am still in flip flops.

So when someone decides to mention it to you, it's like a slap to the face. Seriously, I never noticed it was already November! Next month is Christmas already? Holy.

Then suddenly you start noticing all these little things that have somehow cropped up in the last week or so.

You see Christmas when shop windows start displaying autumn sale signs. When you see stores start selling Christmas baubles and Christmas trees (there are a zillion to choose from now, from the traditional ones to pink ones to ones that start flashing.)

You hear Christmas when one random day a friend of yours decides to dig up that Relient K cover of '12 Days of Christmas' and you try to sing it right. Four calling birds, three french ducks, two turtle hens.. until she gives you a face and tells you to shut up.

You taste Christmas because finally, it's that time of year when you stop saying, 'one tall iced latte please', or 'one grande no-whip green tea frappucino please', and instead burn your tongue on that 'grande extra hot skimmed mocha'. Ow. Or stare wistfully at that Christmas chocolate log cake on display and kid yourself that there's more worthwhile things to spend 25HKD on than 500 calories.

And lastly, you know it's Christmas when everything starts smelling like cinnamon. When cafes start selling gingerbread cakes, when Starbucks come out with their special red cups full to the brim with spicy toffee nut latte, or gingerbread latte.

It's Christmas. I can smell it in the air.

Every time someone says that, nine times out of ten you know it just will be

Awkward.

Having crashed my fair share of parties, i know by now that apart from the ones where there's booze, or where everyone's a stranger unto the next person, the rest will ALWAYS be

Awkward.

It's not that people aren't nice. They're always friendly, but really you wouldn't want to burden them with the responsibility of having to make sure you're having fun- because then they'll end up not having fun. So then, throughout the whole party you'd be nodding along, smiling, telling people you're fine.. but that's about the extent of it. You know you don't really belong there, you don't get half the stories they tell because you weren't there when it happened and you end up having this gut feeling that they know you're feeling a bit

Awkward.

So, my verdict is; 

1. Go to parties and make sure you know at least five people in it.
   
2. Go to parties where there's free booze so everyone's drunk.
   

I've learnt my lesson, next time I'd rather curl up with my favorite book, turn on some music and make myself a sandwich.

I grounded myself for the past two and a half weeks. That's like, almost a month. Well, not almost. More than half a month. I haven't gone out to parties. I haven't gone out for drinks. I haven't gone out to shop. I haven't gone out to shisha. Instead, I've become the good little girl that I've always been, and holed myself up to either

(a) study my law books;

(b) prep for my tutorials; or

(c) attend swimming practices.

My roommate has given up on me, she stopped calling me to ask what I was up to, and she stopped asking me to go out because she knew I'd say no. But I needed this. Not because I had mid-terms and these major races coming up, but more because I felt like I needed the control, I needed to know what I was doing, and feel the stability and the regularity.

It took more than a few drunken endeavors, humiliating morning-afters, and unintentional class-cutting (and ultimately the prospect of failing) for me to realize that this can't actually be it. This really didn't make me happy. It wasn't fun ending up being at an all time low during the day, or feeling horrible at all the unflattering pictures that somehow manage to surface onto the web.

It kind of sucks I'm not going to do anything this Halloween, except spend it nursing my rather complicated relationship with law school, but I'm sticking to my own rule. Two weeks down, third week going strong, 'til mid-terms are over I'm saying a sound no to parties. Halloween, or otherwise.

I bumped into a friend on the bus ride home today, and decided to forgo my usual iPod, so we could maybe talk, catch up a bit. We ended up not talking that much after all, preferring to enjoy each other's silent company. That was when I realized, that for once, no one was talking to me. It has been a long while. 

With people, my friend for example, I'd be talking about the things that happened last night, and he'd tell me the things he had planned for today. With strangers, I'd be hearing snippets of their lives, their dramas, their woes. With music, I'd be hearing about love stories, relationship problems, happy endings. 

But with silences, all I hear is traffic. Sounds that for once, mean nothing, but only that they are sounds. Silences will never be complete silence, there will always be the  constant hum of engines, the distant detached hammering of bulldozers, the sound of your own breathing, the sound of birds twittering. These sound-filled silences, with their longer notes, or shorter ones, high notes, low notes, loud ones, short ones, gentle ones, harsh ones.. are not that different from music, but whereas music is imitative and descriptive of feelings and ideas philosophical; these sounds remain at the essence of what they are, mere sounds. And yet, just as striking, just as appealing, because unlike music where it's pretty much predictable when a chorus comes in, or where you know a particular concerto will end on a perfect cadance, silences never turn out the same way. 

I haven't had silence for so long I forgot how good it felt like until now. Hmm.

I can't even put music on and work properly, because half the time, I would be humming along to it, or get the urge to try it out on the piano.

So it amazed me today, when I was in a lecture, and the girl in front of me starts gaming away on her laptop and halfway through the game, switches windows and starts typing away on something important the lecturer apparently said. I wouldn't know, because I was completely immersed in watching her game away. I could only then hurriedly sneak peeks at my neighbour and copy down her notes. And swear I'd give my full 100% to the rest of the lecture. And shoot envious looks at the back of the girl's head, who was still simultaneously gaming and listening, and jotting down notes when need be.

I complained once to a friend on my inability to multitask. I was like, 'I can't even be on the phone and on the internet at the same time, because I'd end up being all distracted.' She turns around and says, 'Really? I used to do two homework assignments together. I'd work on English, and read a French textbook at the same time.' What the.

HOW DO PEOPLE DO IT.

The phone rings and I was the only one at home. Reluctantly, I get up from the comfort of my own bed and reach for the nearest phone, the one on my bedside drawer. The phone rarely used by the whole family, because it was in the farthest corner of my room, and because it was a corded phone. But it was the nearest one, and I wasn't bothered to walk the extra steps into the living room for another phone. So I picked up, on the old phone, and it was just my mom, telling me to get changed because she was almost home and we were going to go out and have lunch together. I mumbled a listless goodbye and attempted to put the phone back into its cradle, and in the process, I knock over a stack of old Seventeen magazines that were on the drawer, piled high with dust and neglect.

I was thinking how I should really do something to get myself out of my cranky mood, take a shower, turn on some music, or get a cold drink from the fridge; when from amongst the gleaming toothy smiles of Emma Rossum and Teddy Geiger I catch a glimpse of a pink dog-eared notebook. Flipping it open, I see pages and pages of childish writing I recognize as my own, interluded with alternate pages of neat, fancy cursive i recognized as the writing of my middle school teacher. One page childish gibber, one page heart warming replies. It was 'From Me, To You', something my teacher thought up, hoping through the exchanging of letters, we would improve in writing, and she'd get to know us better. I haven't thought about the notebook in years. Mesmerized, I lie back onto the bed, tucking my pillow against my stomach and begin reading. It's funny how the memories are barely there anymore, but reading the words, so clear and strikingly blue against the white pages, it's as though I'm back in my 12-year old self, going through all the motions of a middle school student. I went through my first debate, I went through my parents' past troubles, I went through my first exams, all as though they happened just yesterday.

Half an hour later, I was deeply moved. I never realized I still held so much love for my old school, having switched schools and now gone to uni, I never gave much thought to those years in my alma mater. Yes, the school definitely meant something to me, but I hadnt felt this attachment since.. since quite a long while ago. And suddenly it's all back. Still partially intoxicated, drunken from this barrage of good memories, I had the sudden urge to fcaebook message my former teacher, just to let her in on this amazing discovery and all the emotions that went with it. In an hour, she replied, and what she said made me come to this conclusion: it must be kismet, fate, that somehow made me knock over my stack of magazines (which need throwing out by the way), and leading to the discovery of this old notebook. Something had been getting her down lately, and upon receiving my message, she had recieved the reassurance that she needed. "Your message came at the right time, just when I needed some recognition."

Isn't it funny how the universe works? Sometimes, the little things you do, the chances you take, no matter how small or insignificant they seem, could make someone's day, or could turn someone's emotions around.

..'tis kismet.

Today, whilst chatting to my mom over lunch, I brought up the subject of tattoos. My mom knows I want one, so the first thing she asked was, 'You got one? Where is it?' When I said I don't have one yet, she proceeded on to tell me it was a bad idea, it would give people a bad impression, and that I would regret it because it would be permanent. I should, according to her, 'get hennas instead', because that way I could change the designs whenever I want to. 

I still want a tattoo. A real one. And honestly, views of tattoos are changing now. Where it used to be something only the bad kids did, tattoos are now more like a form of art, something etched on your skin that would remind you of something, or someone. Just like the way people commemorate their loved ones with tattoos on tv shows. My best friend believes that it's not worth getting one unless you have a really special meaning behind it. She's always coming up with new ideas, and she has pretty cool tattoos on herself as well. She has one tiny dotted red heart on her ring finger, symbolizing how she would one day marry for true love, in the traditional-est of ways. I have another friend who has the chinese character for faith on his thigh. And another friend of mine who's studying abroad has '852' on the back of her neck, the area code for Hong Kong. All amazing people, they have felt the need to ink certain words, numerals, or images onto their skin to remind themselves of promises that they've made to themselves, or to give them courage, or to remind them of events, remind them of home thousands of miles away.

So yes, I want a tattoo.. I want a shooting star tattoo . You probably might be thinking, 'Psh, a star's not that unique at all. All the celebrities have it.' But you don't see shooting stars all the time, and when you do see them it's by chance. I took a chance when I decided to listen to my parents and go to law school instead of doing what I really wanted, to go to the States and study journalism. You could say it was my ultimate dream, and I gave it up to please my parents. Shooting stars also represent a wish. I truly do hope I made the right choice in staying put, and hard as it is for me to accept the fact that I would be staying here for a long while, when I was so set on going abroad before, I wish I could be happy here. 

i'm getting the tattoo not for others, but for myself. To remind myself of my choice, and the promise I made to be happy and to believe that things will work out the way I want it to in the end.

This week has been a whirlwind of parties, shows and random get togethers. I barely worked at all. And I tell people I'm in law school.

So anyway, I was at the finals of the GBOB Challenge, where local bands compete for one winning spot, where then they go off to China for their round of GBOB selection and THEN, go off to compete internationally at the Global Battle of the Bands.

Isn't this so cool? It's mind boggling to be standing there in the crowd at this preliminary stage and envisioning these people potentially reaching the next level, and the next, and then going to the Global Battle of the Bands.

The Global Battle of the Bands.

The band I liked the best were Chuchukmo. The music's really different, like a mash up of different genres, different elements, and the creation of something quite unique.

http://www.myspace.com/chochukmo

Another band I liked was Killer Soap, just because they reminded me of My Chemical Romance. Haha. A bit.

http://www.myspace.com/killersoap 

(I just realized my last entry was on music as well. I'll talk about something else next time. Hopefully.)

Audiotraffic is quite awesome.

http://www.myspace.com/audiotrafficband

It's about time these people played above ground instead of underground. I'm tired of the ever increasing number of 'new artists' out on the charts who can't really carry a tune. And even if they actually do sing, they never stray too far from the unextraordinary but safe love ballads that every other singer in Hong Kong seem to be belting out. Indie bands deserve moree.

We're in the middle of a storm that ripped through the Phillipines and is now headed our way. Or more like, has already landed our midst, charging along the narrow streets like a rampage of bulls, and whistling throught the cracks under our doors in an eerie shriek. My windows are rattling so hard I'm afraid they'll break. But all said and done, I'm safe and dry at home, typing away here on TOL and listening to Jason Mraz.

But earlier today was a different story.

The typhoon was drawing closer, but it wasn't acually here yet, so I decided to brave the winds and meet up with a friend of mine who was leaving for Warwick tomorrow. I wasn't about to ditch our plans, not when I wouldn't be able to see her until Christmas, so there I was, walking along this narrow strip of pedestrain pathway by the main road and struggling to keep my umbrella up. Then suddenly without warning, this white car who was going way over speed limit loses control and swerves right onto the path just two feet away from me. The car's bumper hit the curb and a part of it flew right off, the shards flying right by my face and hitting the woman behind me. And then guess what?

The car just sped away.

How inconsiderate could people be? The woman was bent over, grasping her own shoulder tightly and gasping with the pain. Fortunately I don't think she was majorly hurt when I went over to help her up, but still, the driver should have had the courtesy to stop and see if everything was alright. And apologized. But no, he just sped off. Just imagine if the both of us were walking that bit faster, or were that fraction closer to the road. We could have been really hurt. And it wouldn't have been a pleasant scene.

I find it extremely funny how I'm learning about the law and simlutaneously applying them to real life experiences. My mom kept talking about how I should have looked at his nameplate and sued or something. But honestly I don't think it would have made a good case. Not a good tort one anyway. We weren't really hurt. More like, a bit shaken and bruised. Plus wet and cold. And pretty mad at this person for almost commiting a hit-and-run, whoever he or she is.

So it was right after a two hour lecture on law of contract (with no breaks in between I might add) and I felt like someone had just replaced my brains with cotton wool. Not a good feeling. So really, I can't be blamed for reading Cassie's email and not registering what it meant, what this whole 'trial blogger' thing meant.

But wait a minute.

..TRIAL BLOGGER?

Moment of enlightenment and then everything sinks in. The sky opens up, heavenly rays of light shine upon thy face and angels begin their grand serenade.

Somehow, I don't know how, I've been selected to be one of the trial bloggers. I felt like I was walking on air. Almost 23 hours later, I still feel like I'm walking on air. I've been onto this site ever since it first started, and to be able to write for it alongside everyone and not just read and comment is simply amazing.

Thank you Cassie and Jade, for making this happen.