A few days ago, I sprained my ankle.
During badminton training, I was playing a doubles match when I jumped to hit the shuttle and landed wrongly. A bone wobbling sound was heard. "What are you doing on the floor, Brian?". I found out I could hardly put any pressure on my left foot without it hurting. I don't even know if I got the badminton point.
The next day, I went to a doctor who gave me some lotion to rub on my ankle and a bandage to support it. A few of my fellow tuition-mates tried using my crutches (which were handed down to me from my dad) the correct way or as a gun.
I remember having sprained my ankle once before. It was at Holiday Villa, the hotel we go to play badminton in. Nope, I didn't sprain my ankle then. We got bored of badminton and I was with my cousin and brother at the bowling alley. What was that? I twisted my ankle while rolling the ball? I wish. I was chasing my cousin around the table. He grabbed a chair. Threw it in my way. Bang. The irony...
Anyway, my crutches make it hard to carry anything at all or go through small gaps. They also hurt my hands and armpits. They are clumsy, occasionally banging into objects around the house. Going up or down the stairs also proves to be quite dangerous. I have to sit when wearing pants or jeans since I cannot stand on my left foot.
These things happen.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
'A' for Art
Friday, December 12, 2008
Justea
I don't know why I drink so much of it. Maybe I'm addicted to it. Or maybe drinking it has become some sort of a tradition. Either way, every time I go to a coffee shop, I will usually order it.
Justea incorporates (or tries to incorporate) green tea with the regular line of fruity flavours. My favourite flavour would be white grape (whatever that is) with aloe vera bits. I never really bothered to look at what they put in it. Oh well. It really tastes a bit too sweet for me, but the ice most coffee shops so kindly provide help me to dilute it. What I like, is the aloe vera bits, firm with just the right bit of crunch.
Like I said before, I don't know why I drink so much of it. It's not THAT good, but, nevertheless, nice. I guess this goes to prove that I am easily satisfied when it comes to drinks, or just don't care. I don't even like green tea.
Justea incorporates (or tries to incorporate) green tea with the regular line of fruity flavours. My favourite flavour would be white grape (whatever that is) with aloe vera bits. I never really bothered to look at what they put in it. Oh well. It really tastes a bit too sweet for me, but the ice most coffee shops so kindly provide help me to dilute it. What I like, is the aloe vera bits, firm with just the right bit of crunch.
Like I said before, I don't know why I drink so much of it. It's not THAT good, but, nevertheless, nice. I guess this goes to prove that I am easily satisfied when it comes to drinks, or just don't care. I don't even like green tea.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Not for a long time
4-Nov-2008
Today i woke up around 6.30am. My body instinctively flew off my bed. A great light encircled me. I squinted. Today, I felt something I had not felt for a very long time. My mind played over and over...
'O' Level Art Exam.
Since Std 4, I have never sat for a formal exam.
The day before, the middle finger on my right hand suffered a badminton accident (courtesy of my partner) to the first joint from the knuckle. It had bled enough to dye my finger red from the first to second joint by the time I took the trouble to look at it. I'm not the kind to believe in omens but it ached whenever I clenched my fist. I am not a sissy, but I DID have an art exam coming up.
Wounded digits aside I would say I was quite calm compared to my art teacher, parents and sibling. I now quote my brother.
"These exams are hard on everyone... Except you!"
My serene demeanor started to fail me the day of the actual exam however. During the trip by car to the British Council where the exam was held, I found myself going through the details over and over. How the placement of objects should go, what steps to take and what equipment I might have forgotten were all questions I interrogated myself with. I must say I wasn't that nervous though, because when all that was said and done, I fell asleep. I then reached the place, enjoyed a nice breakfast at The Cofee Bean before entering the room marked "Silence Please".
As soon as I entered I noticed that they expected me to paint in a carpeted room, but my concentration was needed elsewhere. I stared at a tennis bag. It stared back at me, its contents spilling out of it so it looked more "Artistic".
Before the exam, the thought of an invigilator invoked pictures of very nosy people who patrol back and forth with an occasional stop to bend over and look at your artwork. However, due to the fact that the room opposite mine held candidates sitting for a Physics paper, as well as the fact that there was only one invigilator... he was a rare sight.
I had also pictured myself in a room with more people. There were 2.... Including me. Issac, a 19 year old chap sat at another seat painting plants. A nice guy. Painted the background with the kind of brush used for walls. I still wonder why I never thought of that...
Looking through the box of paints, I found out that I didn't have black. Turned out I had switched the black paint cap with the Prussian blue paint cap. Thank God... Scared the **** out of me.
Despite this, to my surprise, I was quite satisfied with the way my work turned out.
Today i woke up around 6.30am. My body instinctively flew off my bed. A great light encircled me. I squinted. Today, I felt something I had not felt for a very long time. My mind played over and over...
'O' Level Art Exam.
Since Std 4, I have never sat for a formal exam.
The day before, the middle finger on my right hand suffered a badminton accident (courtesy of my partner) to the first joint from the knuckle. It had bled enough to dye my finger red from the first to second joint by the time I took the trouble to look at it. I'm not the kind to believe in omens but it ached whenever I clenched my fist. I am not a sissy, but I DID have an art exam coming up.
Wounded digits aside I would say I was quite calm compared to my art teacher, parents and sibling. I now quote my brother.
"These exams are hard on everyone... Except you!"
My serene demeanor started to fail me the day of the actual exam however. During the trip by car to the British Council where the exam was held, I found myself going through the details over and over. How the placement of objects should go, what steps to take and what equipment I might have forgotten were all questions I interrogated myself with. I must say I wasn't that nervous though, because when all that was said and done, I fell asleep. I then reached the place, enjoyed a nice breakfast at The Cofee Bean before entering the room marked "Silence Please".
As soon as I entered I noticed that they expected me to paint in a carpeted room, but my concentration was needed elsewhere. I stared at a tennis bag. It stared back at me, its contents spilling out of it so it looked more "Artistic".
Before the exam, the thought of an invigilator invoked pictures of very nosy people who patrol back and forth with an occasional stop to bend over and look at your artwork. However, due to the fact that the room opposite mine held candidates sitting for a Physics paper, as well as the fact that there was only one invigilator... he was a rare sight.
I had also pictured myself in a room with more people. There were 2.... Including me. Issac, a 19 year old chap sat at another seat painting plants. A nice guy. Painted the background with the kind of brush used for walls. I still wonder why I never thought of that...
Looking through the box of paints, I found out that I didn't have black. Turned out I had switched the black paint cap with the Prussian blue paint cap. Thank God... Scared the **** out of me.
Despite this, to my surprise, I was quite satisfied with the way my work turned out.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Scared of chicks.
Today, I found out that I'm allergic to chick peas. It started when my mother bought a bag and popped a few into my mouth.
Nothing happened. So I started eating more. After eating about 10 more, my mouth started aching slightly. That's how I found out.
Some time ago, I found out I'm allergic to a certain breed of yam. I've inherited this attribute from my biological mother whose hands itch when she handles those yams. I know that she IS my biological mother because:
1. We both share the same allergy.
2. She says so.
I am not adopted.
Nothing happened. So I started eating more. After eating about 10 more, my mouth started aching slightly. That's how I found out.
Some time ago, I found out I'm allergic to a certain breed of yam. I've inherited this attribute from my biological mother whose hands itch when she handles those yams. I know that she IS my biological mother because:
1. We both share the same allergy.
2. She says so.
I am not adopted.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Things I sometimes think about.
An example:
-"I wonder if it was a boy or a girl..."-
*stares at a dory fish fillet*
...
Oh well, they taste the same anyway...
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Speechless
It's hard to stay mute , especially if you possess a big mouth OR an older brother bent on thwarting your efforts. My brother had both. Today, he started on a project that required him to experience how a mute person feels when he's... well, mute. The duration: 4 hours.
Not wanting it to look bad on his record, he started again after his first try was deemed imperfect due to his absent minded utterance of the words, "Where is Dad?".
All was going well in take 2 until dinner, when he spotted an object in his dory fish fillet that, as most dory fish fillet eaters would know, shouldn't be there.
"Bone!" he exclaimed.
I laughed out loud.
Just one word! Forget a perfect record, he wasn't going to start all over again!
He slouched.
I told a joke.
He laughed. Spilled water on his T-shirt.
"You made me spill!" he uttered.
He hopes to try again tomorrow. The object wasn't even a bone.
Not wanting it to look bad on his record, he started again after his first try was deemed imperfect due to his absent minded utterance of the words, "Where is Dad?".
All was going well in take 2 until dinner, when he spotted an object in his dory fish fillet that, as most dory fish fillet eaters would know, shouldn't be there.
"Bone!" he exclaimed.
I laughed out loud.
Just one word! Forget a perfect record, he wasn't going to start all over again!
He slouched.
I told a joke.
He laughed. Spilled water on his T-shirt.
"You made me spill!" he uttered.
He hopes to try again tomorrow. The object wasn't even a bone.
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