— Wanderlust

I currently have sixteen drafts in my blog. Some of them are about friends who have changed. I did not have the heart to finish up the entries or discard them although it causes me mild distress to read them. A couple of them were rants about assignments. I found one about Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic and another about uh, an exceedingly handsome fictional king (it was only a sentence long). One post is about my pretentious attitude about music and how Tooth Fairy was a stupid movie. I wrote a draft about my hangeul skills which are basically non-existent now: I can only read about ten Korean letters now. Another was a rant about friends who wear matching clothes.

Here is a very old draft about my dad trying to join Celebrity Fitness and how my bitch face got him discounts. It’s too funny not to post.

Something strange came upon Fa today. He wanted to join the gym. Fa occasionally jogs and bikes and lifts dumbbells. He jogged in the house once, for about two minutes. He is quite the comédienne these days. So we trudged off to Celebrity Fitness, a tastelessly named gym. A friendly consultant greeted us and got all excited about me looking Chinese but being Chinese. I swear, that’s how everyone I have ever met breaks the ice. Either that, or they never realise the truth. Anyhow. We had a short tour of fancy exercise machines. Gyms are so creepy, I swear. They’re like 80′s discos with strange lighting and sweaty people of all sizes.

I felt like running to the nearest bookstore and hiding my face behind a paperback. The consultant rambled a lot. My father left all the decision-making up to me, insisting I was his “consultant”. There were joining fees, monthly fees, and little tedious hidden fees. “Is money a concern for you?” the consultant asked. “It is, for her,” added my father unhelpfully. I must have had my best surly face on when I asked about the cancellation fees (RM 400!), because she scampered off and came back with her manager. We ended with tons of discounts, because I was so skeptical and Fa was so old.

He didn’t join though.

I shall write a line or two about my industrial training in French accompanied by a blurry photo of my friends and I, to make things more interesting. (Okay actually my hands hurt and I am in no mood to elaborate about things.)

Ce sont mes ami au travail. Ils sont vraiment amusant. Aujourd’hui, c’est mon dernier jour au travail. Je vais les rater.

Okay, I Google Translated the last line because I had no idea how to say “I will miss them” in French.

My hands have been getting a little bad lately because I spend an excessive amount of time on Tumblr at work (sorry, boss) and I actually get noticed.  Of course, this is all on my Tumblr that I use exclusively for BioWare games. No one likes anything I post on my boring old personal Tumblr.

Seriously, I miss doing yoga. Carpal tunnel restricts me from doing any form of exercise. It would be great if someone could point me to some yoga routine where I won’t have to bend the hell out of my wrists but I don’t think such a thing exists. Google said so. My lack of interest in physical activity keeps the strain on my hands low.

Here is an abridged list of things that make my wrists hurt ordered by severity of pain. Number one potentially causing pain to spread up to my shoulders and back with really numb hands (hasn’t happened in a long time, luckily).

1. Doing push-ups or any activities where my wrists are bent back
2. Using the computer while wearing jewellery on my hands
3. Sucky gaming mice (burn in hell, Microsoft Sidewinder X3, burn in hell!)
4. Phone games
5. Scrolling movements (curse you, infinite Tumblr dashboard!)
6. Repetitive typing (I think it wears me out faster than programming)
7. Designing
8. Computer games
9. Programming
10. Driving
11. Blogging
12. Sleeping without wearing splints
13. Carrying heavy things

So we have this … miniature turtle in the office. It sits still on top of a bookshelf in a corner, red eyes gleaming. The turtle’s position overlooks the entire office and has a great view of the toilet door. We think it’s a hidden camera, a CCTV of some sort. We think it is used to monitor how many times interns go to the bathroom but for all we know, we could be wrong.

This is what we do at work in between writing ColdFusion web applications. Conjure up whimsical tales about voyeuristic office decorations. By the way, we use Lifebuoy hand soap in the office. It’s really good!