going to hongkong

why don't you write me, i'm out in the jungle, i'm hungry to hear you

Nearly packed for hongkong with a tiny suitcase that is only half-filled. I absolutely love the satisfaction of all that empty space. This could be our last real family holiday with all of us going.

I always thought singtel was good until recently. We waited 10 minutes on the phone just to hear that we have to go down to activate overseas roam when you can do it through the phone for M1. We waited 2 hours at the singtel shop and of course my father was seething with rage and ranted in angry, breathy sentences to the young, dynamic looking people at the counter (as all local phone companies' staff look), who of course just replied with lots of 'sir's and PR smiles. The girl wore a singtel shirt that said 'season of surprises' and my father said 'yes. yes. season of surprises. give me this kind of surprise' or something like that muttered with force and anger. And when we walked away i turned back and the girl gossiped to the guy immediately, covering half her face with a paper. My father walked back to ask them something and she put on that tone again. Actually it might all have been better if the staff did not say sir or smiled obligingly as they did. Can't sales people just speak normally, why do they have to put on such a bloody pretence. Drives people nuts. It was terrible and we will be changing to M1 the moment the contract with singtel is over. In fact at that very outlet we went to today, some time ago, my brother (most impatient person ever) and father cancelled his singtel line on the spot when they were both seething with rage and walked over to M1. Can't stand the idea of insurance too. Had to talk to an insurance woman and the way she spoke was in that same way!! The whole sir-m'am-miss efficient and nice way. Help us all. I don't want to grow up and have the burden of facing the consequences of not filling in an insurance form properly or missing a line on a bill or contract.

Went with my father to the meeting about the house and they were finalising all the toilet tiles to me it just seemed like the same colours, oat and grey but there were so many variants and it was so fudging boring. The funny thing was they were putting in effort into matching those fudging boring colours. Different shades of grey, different shades of oat. Whats the difference? They're not lime or orange or blue or anything vaguely ALIVE and therefore they have no merit whatsoever. What's the house going to look like? A classy prison of marble. But I couldn't possibly tell them this when they asked for my opinion. Now after reading this whole post I know I'm sounding like a complaining moron, but it's just that acerbic kind of mood. The sourness in my heart needs some ranting. Things are too complicated (hate this word, sounds like gurgled intestines) when everything should just be simple.

And that is why I can't wait to take the plane in the morning. On planes, sitting there flying through the night sky, everything just seems simple and magical and it seems as if everything will not only be alright, but wonderful.

'Hey Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me. I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to....'