Ants Smell Like Marzipan

"It has that overpowering smell of crushed ants," replied A when I offered to fix him an almond drink, one of my comfort drinks only a notch down after coffee and hot chocolate. I thought he must be out of his mind associating that sweet, flavourful aroma of almond to the odour of those little critters. Apparently, eversince that sensory association was formed in him, A never liked anything almond-y and marzipan-y anymore. Tough.

All I know about ants and ant-related smell are (1) that they release some sort of formic acid, which are intended for defense against predators and enemies, and (2) that they have very strong sensory organs for sniffing and smelling that are meant for identification and detection of other ants from the same colony. What escaped me is the possibility for humans to actually detect this ant acid smell, or at least I would think so as A claimed to have known. Is it just my olfactory sense being far inferior than his? Or perhaps it is his sense of smell which has totally flipped and gone wacko? What was he up to anyway coming across such odour?... bizaare! And let me ask, how many crushed ants does it take for one to actually get a whiff of that ant scent?... should we produce a mortar and pestle for experimentation?... the image of which gives me goosebumps. One or two ants are alright, but the thought hundreds of them scrambling about makes me wanna gag.

Funny thing is I know how ants taste like. It was an accident - for me and of course for the poor thing which died a quick death inside my mouth. The taste was very distinct, kind or rusty, cold, electric-like, and has a sharp bite to it... definitely not a condiment I would recommend unless you're vying for the championship of eating exotic stuff and insects.

For the life of me, keep them out of my kitchen and I'd be happy. Someday my good ol' beau would have to learn to appreciate and love my almond biscottis.

Fragments of Our Being

What would we be without a recollection of our past? What would become of us if completely stripped off of memories... of the last smile we saw, the last touch or hug we received... the voices of those closest to us? What would become of our existence if any familiar faces we try to recall in our minds won't form at all? Or would we, consumed with nothingness, cease to exist at all? Would losing all those mean losing ourselves?

Last night, we watched a documentary film called Unknown White Male. It is the true story of a man who wakes up and finds himself in a New York subway not knowing who he is, where he is going, what his past is. It's a wipe out of the past 35 years of his life. The rest of the film documented how pieces were connected and how this man tried to retrieve his life back by meeting again his friends and family, but as if for the first time. The irony is that in retrieving his life back he was actually starting a new life so different from the one he lived before, it is as if a whole new person has been reborn. From old videos and snapshots of this man before his memory loss, it was easy to tell that he has a certain air of cockiness, an arrogance and sureness of himself, straight-forward, with sarcastic humour, obviously driven and quite successful, and liked to be in the limelight - he played the centrestage role very well. The new person, interviewed and shown throughout the documenting of the film, reveals one who is sensitive, reflective, private. There's a whole new aura to the man that it really gave me goosebumps. A very insightful thought that hits the nail right on the head was quoted from the philosopher John Locke, that he surely is the same person, but questionably the same man.

Surely, an experience like this will scare the living daylights of any person. I wouldn't want to lost all those that made up me because I wouldn't want to lose me. With no past dreams to think about, past hurts, past love to feel, with no reference of anything at all... makes up nothing but just fragments of an unknown being. This makes one think about how much of our character and personality, our humanness, is really made up by the aggregate of memories, experiences we have that make us unique individuals. Without any of those, how can we say for sure who we are? With those altered and changed, we will never be the same person as we are now. To this guy, it seemed like he was wiped off and left as a blank piece of paper where he should start writing down and building his life, his new life, once again.

*******
Now, on to the wackier part of this post, sort of like a fun "personals" kind of survey... I was tagged by Mildred to answer the following questions.

THREE RANDOM FACTS ABOUT MY CLOSET:
1) Never big enough
2) Fully utilised
3) Smells good

THREE ITEMS I'VE NEVER WORN BUT STILL HAVEN'T TOSSED OUT:
1) A blood red cocktail dress bought last year - I suddenly felt younger for that kind of style
2) A couple of gym tops - somehow I kept on using the few old ones
3) A leopard print G-string that my crazy friends gave me 3 years ago!

THREE THINGS I WILL NEVER GET RID OF NO MATTER HOW UGLY THEY GET:
1) Andrew
2) Photos of family and friends
3) My passports

THREE ITEMS THAT PEOPLE WOULDN'T EXPECT TO FIND IN MY CLOSET:
1) Mothballs
2) Gun
3) Used Kleenex

THREE THINGS THAT MADE ME GO, OH LORD WHAT WAS I THINKING?
1) The second I jumped out of a plane from 12,000 feet
2) After managing to very quickly and sharply cut an 18-wheeler truck... never again!
3) After the 12th shot of cowboy + several glasses of port + some glasses of wine + another drink here and there..... And the next morning "Oh Lord, my head!"

THREE THINGS THAT I HAVE A SURPRISING NUMBER OF:
1) Tissue rolls - I keep on stocking them for some odd reasons!
2) Liquid laundry detergent - same as above!
3) Photographs

THREE DOMINANT COLORS IN MY CLOSET:
1) Black
2) Blue
3) White

THREE PEOPLE I WILL TAG:
1) Andrew
2) Boon
3) Zantha

Getting All Frocked Up

If there is one big event that many over-worked, highly-stressed postgraduates look forward to, it would be the annual ball jointly organised by the University of Melbourne and Monash University postgraduate associations. Each September on a Friday evening that marks the start of two-week, non-teaching period, your regular bookworms, research geekoids, university bigwigs, normal students and academics, transform into real human beings whom you will find actually adept in socialising and mingling (and dancing even - on or off the beat is another story). It's interesting how one starts to see another in a different light once placed in a different setting (*oooh, person so and so is groovy after all!*). I would admit that I very much enjoy these postgraduate balls so even if my tenure as a postgraduate student has recently ended, it didn't stop me from going to this year's event.

To me, no function could be worse than a disorganised, rowdy, messy one (i.e. college balls? *no offense meant*). I have been to ones where more than half of the crowd ended up badly sloshed resulting to shameful behaviour; where the dance floor was literally covered with broken glass and spilt beer, making it impossible for the non-indulgent, responsible, social drinker to walk (forget dancing!) without slipping or stepping on shards of glass. In the end, one would go away disgruntled and wondering why the hell did he/she pay $69 to watch unruly people being forcefully thrown out of the ball by bouncers? I could get that sort of entertainment by watching footy on television (and it's free!). Oh well!

So, what makes the UMPA postgraduate balls different? Aside from better behaved people and the absence of hazards in the form of either violent bodies or sharp glasses, the UMPA balls are very well-organised, with programs and the music/band well picked. And yet, the highlights, in my opinion, is the choice of venue, the selection of a theme, and that extra move to make the event stand out and unique from all previous balls. These postgraduate balls are themed events where part of the excitement is playing along and fitting into the motif. This year's was "Titanic," as corny as it may sound, the venue very well made up for it. Held at the Melbourne Aquarium, not one guest was not at awe at how beautiful the place is, especially with that huge cylindrical tank filled with tropical fish and corals in the centre of the hall, and the other tanks with a view of sharks, stingrays, and other forms of sea life. While it is not exactly compulsory to be "Jack" or "Rose" or the propeller of the ship to attend the ball, it is quite interesting and fun that many still go out of their way and exercise their creative minds to find the perfect attire or accessory that would fit the theme. This year's male winner of the best dressed wore on his head a styrofoam-made iceberg that is battery operated to puff out smoke.

For three consecutive years now, I have gone to the postgraduate ball. In 2003, my first postgraduate ball, the theme was excitingly Latin and set in a spectacular marquee venue in the Melbourne Zoo! The sound of the Pachuco Playboys band and the images of people salsa-ing still linger in my head. Then it was a change from wild Latin dancing to a medieval setting of a masquerade ball in 2004, with again a venue that is beyond our expectation - the beautiful Regent Theatre, its palatial ambience truly fit with the spirit of the medieval era. Come 2005, as I have narrated shortly, the Titanic theme in a special aquarium venue. We wonder how else could it get better next year? :-)

For snapshots of the events...

September 19, 2003

El Baile del Postgrad
Melbourne Zoo

* The lady with the elaborate hat, parading as Carmen Miranda, won best dressed.
*Her male counterpart has an EVEN MORE elaborate accoutrement on his head... apparently he was ALSO Carmen Miranda *guffaw*.
* Still "just friends" with A at this time...

September 10, 2004

Masquerade Ball
Regent Theatre, Melbourne

* No longer "just friends" with A...
* We made our own masks!... on the afternoon before the ball. It took longer than I expected... we were a tad bit late for the ball.
* My good friend S also made her own, with mask and a pair of sheer fairy wings not so obvious in the picture. She was one of the finalists for best-dressed.

September 16, 2005

Titanic Ball
Melbourne Aquarium

* Before, during, and after the ball.
* Ain't my friend (in the blue dress) very "Cleopatra"-like?

Dreams are Extensions of our Daytime Consciousness

Last night I had a dream. Or was it a dream or perhaps more likely my thoughts? In any case, I was drifting from consciousness to sleep - that kind of in-between because while slumber beckons and my mind begins to form abstract pictures, I could still hear the distinct footsteps and voices of people going by under my bedroom window.

In the dream I see many faces, all around as if in a gathering. And then it zoomed in to a few, smiling, cheerful people while the rest of the crowd fades away. Dad and mum in their exercise clothes, my grandparents still holding hands, my brother J with his usual rumply hair plus his gf S, my sister, my other brother J2, myself and A. We were all living in one suburb, setting - Melbourne, that I am certain of in the dream. My parents have retired and finally have all the time in the world to leisurely do everything that they wanted to do; they busy themselves with visiting their children; the houses are in constant cooking storm as the ladies in the family are quite able kitchen goddesses. There was not a single frame in the whole scene where anyone is left alone; we were always together; conversations never stopped; laughter never faded. There was an intense feeling of satisfaction and happiness in my heart.

I did not want to wake up from that dream. Now I am writing about it.

Reality is, my family are scattered in three different places. My parents and grannies are in Manila, my brother J and sister are in Hong Kong, and I am in Melbourne with my other brother J2. They say that dreams are extensions of our daytime consciousness, albeit sometimes distortions occur they are still based on our human thoughts. It won't take a rocket scientist to come up with a precise interpretation of this one, as I am obviously caught up in the reverie that very soon our family will all settle in one place. What wouldn't I give to be able to have dinner with everyone else again every night, to be able to gather up my mum and sister together for our weekly shopping, to be a few minutes drive away from all of them who means the world to me? In the past, I have smirked at a comment I heard from a friend of my dad's when he talked about his daughter, about not letting her go overseas and explore the vast opportunities out there when she wanted to because nothing so great is great enough to replace the proximity between family. My thoughts then, on that note, was absurd, idealistic, and totally unpractical. Now being a daughter who is far away, I understand.

Say What?????

Goodness gracious, half an hour after and I am still laughing myself to madness. Excerpt from a phone conversation I had this afternoon.

---Phone rings---
Me: Hello, Jovy speaking!
Caller: Hi there! This is Sarah from (company). How are you going?
Me: I'm great, thank you. How are you?
Caller: Good, thanks. I'm calling regarding your application. Congratulations you were shortlisted. Would you be able to come and see our Managing Director tomorrow?
Me: Oh, I'm afraid tomorrow is not a good time. I have a couple of appointments throughout the day. How about Friday?
Caller: Let's see... Friday 10am good for you?
Me: Yes, absolutely.
Caller: Fantastic! Let me give you the address... (proceeds to give me location), it's near Central
Me: Hmmm... (repeated address again), this is in the city?
Caller: Yes, so we'll see you on Friday then!
Me: Thanks Sarah.

After hanging up, I proceeded to check the address and location on street-directory online. Funny, but I couldn't find it in Victoria. My fault was I could not even remember having applied for such and such position in such and such company. Anyway, thinking to myself that I could have gotten the name wrong or the details wrong, I searched our dear friend Mr G <-- Google. All entries showed the address given to me to be located in Sydney! *Groan* So when she mentioned Central, what registered in my head was Melbourne Central, when what she really meant was Central station in Sydney.

---Called back Sarah---
(At this point I checked the number that was registered when she rang my mobile, true enough the area code was 02 - Sydney!)
Me: Hi Sarah, this is Jovy... we spoke 5 minutes ago regarding an interview for Friday? Let me just clarify, but you guys are in Sydney. I am in Melbourne.
Sarah: Oh! I'm sorry! I was meaning to send your details to our Melbourne office, and hey I called you instead. (Laughs to herself). Well, I guess there wouldn't be enough time for you to drive up to Sydney huh (said jokingly).
Me: Errr...
Sarah: Really sorry about that mix-up! I'll call up the Melbourne office right away and arrange the same time for tomorrow, then? Hmmm, is there any time difference?
Me: Huh? Between Sydney and Melbourne - no, we're on the same timezone! And no, I am not available tomorrow. We have agreed on Friday.
Sarah: Right! Well, Friday in the Melbourne office then. Look, I'll call you back in a tick, I'll just have to confirm with them.

---End of story---

That's just what I need for this exhausting, nerve-wrecking, roller coaster of a day. Made my tummy hurt. :-)

My New Toy

Sounds kinky eh? Not! Hehehe.

For the want of occasional changes in look, but lacking the courage to have any cosmetic changes done (not that there's anything really that I want to have enhanced, reduced, chiseled, sculpted, removed, disguised, or whatever other reasons that anyone would have to go under the knife for), I resorted to experiment on that one area that even when damaged could regrow, be easily remedied, and nursed back to health. My hair. And so there... I went ahead and bought myself a hair iron; it can be used both for straightening and making curls. It's amazing how wide the range is for these kinds of products. A hair iron is just a hair iron, simple as that right? Not quite. Prices between a low-end product and a high-end one could be between $30 - $300, and there are endless features - digital, non-digital, solid ceramic or ceramic technology (the latter being better), whether suitable for wet and dry hair or only for dry locks, whether good for fine or thick hair, the list goes on. I reckon that a mid-range product priced around $60 - $100 will be good enough if only for personal use.

Before hair experts have discovered relaxing, rebonding, extenso, and what other hair-straightening methods there are - all to the utter joy of many women who agonise over their so-called unruly, wavy hair, we really had to just live with ultra conditioning and serious blow-drying, eh? Been there, done that... although I would say that I have pretty much of a tame mane. Too typical now that it felt the need to be unruly once more. So going back to the newest addition to my collection of gizmos, its purpose really is for experimentation on curls and twists. Eversince I was young I have always marvelled at ladies with beautiful soft curls --- au naturale... not quite those grandma-looking ones that come fresh from the salon still smelling of perming chemicals (not that there's anything wrong with that!... play it safe here lest I offend anybody). Today I had a play with it for the first time and I'd say... man, it ain't as easy to do as it looks! Care must be taken not to burn your hair and your scalp. Since it was better to clamp the iron on not too big a chunk of hair each time for ease in twisting and twirling, it obviously would take a long time for me to get my whole head done considering the amount of hair I have! Furthermore, I had to make sure that they're done properly at each layer. It was tricky at first... if you tugged on it too hard, you'll get hard icky curls, if too loose, it'll look as if it has just been clamped by rubber. There's also the problem of getting the hair at the back done... I had fabulous help, thanks to A for his patience and ingenuity. Alas, after around half an hour, we achieved a satisfactory result. I had initially wanted sort of soft french curls but that'll take more practice I suppose. For now, I think it's not too bad. :-)