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Imported from my blogger dating from August 2005 to June 2010




Blogging during daylight hours? WHAAAT?

Do not fret, my kitties, I am just as sleep deprived as always when I come around to this blinking cursor, and my prose, I trust, would take on much of that same level of lucidity.

Taking the proverbial stroll down a narcissistic memory lane, I started reading my old blog posts and old emails these past two nights. As cringe inducing as moments were during this sojourn, I did find my old self to be a more interesting specimen that this person sitting here today. Thoughts were better phrased, ideas more succinct -- readers, I used to think.

(The above literary device taken from the first line of the final chapter of Jane Eyre was something else my more interesting former self used to utilise all the time. I have, I am ashamed to say, not accumulated any more such devices, because apparently I have reached my cultural peak during high school. Which was 7 years ago. She says as she cuts up another piece of Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge and swallows it whole)

All this is by ways of saying, you may begin to notice slight changes at this address from now on. I wouldn't think of altering anything that has already been because, for some stupid reason, that form of self censorship feels like cheating. I may occasionally correct an obvious typo or 2 if I happen across them. Some of you may have already noticed that I have removed all traces of this blog from my facebook presence, barring the link in my website section of the profile. I will be more militant about updates. I will attempt new things. There will be a new category of posts I'm proposing to start working on. In the interest of full disclosure, it will be an instruction manual of sorts. It's an idea I've been toying with, oh what the heck, it's already out -- Madam Qin's Guide for the Girl About Town.

It would be just random bits of information that covers living in a city as I'm slowly working it out for myself, chapter by chapter. You know, there'd be a post on cooking and how to stock the perfect start-up kitchen and a few simple tasty recipes. Make up and fashion tips I can wax lyric on myself. How to clean things properly, what to use, it still amazes me that young people don't know about the windex + newspaper combo for mirrors. How to set up a home stereo system. How to change the oil in your car. How to shop for a second hand car. Basic home repairs. Simple life things that a lot of girls don't seem able to do on their own. Maybe include an etiquette section because we all know that's going out the window. I can spend a few paragraphs on the wonders of OxiClean, talk about breakups and have a humorous list of healthy and unhealthy ways of handling things. Sickness and how to feel better in every situation. Basic over the counter drugs guide. Healing powers of Matzo Ball soup (see rules #5 and #37 of my rule book). How to load a freakin' roll of toilet paper without needing Kleenex to conduct a nation wide survey. It's ALWAYS over, people, no exceptions.

Travel tips, I've already started on that. I have my air travel process down pat. Down to every single carry on item and where I store them and when I take them out at what point of the flight. The order I take off my coat, shoes, take out my laptop to optimise a speed through of the security checks. I'm an air travel ninja. Have you seen Up In The Air? I'm George fucking Clooney in that movie.

A big part would be how to fill out forms and what to look for in contracts for work or properties. I'll get my lawyer friends to help me with those. I'd get expert advice in each category except for the ones I don't need them on, namely, makeup. It's going to take a long time, and eventually published, I hope. It would be thick and weighty with lots of pictures. It'd be encyclopedic in information and parents would give it to their daughters on their 18th birthdays as a reference guide to the rest of their lives. In the print edition I would provide up to date lists for must read, watch, listen items, but less for actual quality, although quality would have to be guaranteed, but more for the cultural expansion of knowledge so that said daughter would get the references made in the world they're stepping into.

Ambitious, no? But that's the 5 year plan. For now, I'll start small, very small. In fact the moment I hit publish I am going to regret putting this out into the world at all and probably do nothing about it.

I also have a Momofuku's Crack Pie date to go to, so toodles for now!
(It would appear that I may need to write a chapter on stunt eating, and use myself as an example of what not to do.)


Slop Bucket

As promised, summery days and nights arrived ahead of its cue, and like an embarrassed child, retracted apologetically. We did manage to slip in a few fun filled days in the park during its brief appearance, as most of you on facebook (read: everyone) already know. That was one way to while away the listless daylight hours now. I suppose I could (should) start the job hunt on the illegal overseas student employment market. If there are any readers out there who are owners of manhattan based establishments willing to take on a neurotic (in an entirely professional way) Asian (= hard working) girl who is constantly on the quest for approval (= fantastic customer service), please, save me the trouble and drop a line.

Apart from that, I think I'll just continue on my mission of watching every episode of shows on netflix I'd always wanted to watch but never had the time to.

That would only be until mother arrives, of course.

I need to make it clear though, here, for everyone to see. I, Alice Bing Qing Tao Qin, hereby swear that my work ethic is going to shape right up, as of, errr.....now. Remember my fuck it manifesto? Well it's now going to include this amendment.

On top of not being afraid of creating and treating it like first time sex (just get it done so you can get on to the much better second and third time sex, according to merlin mann) I will actually go further, do more than the bare requirement. Ask more of myself than what is asked by the other people around me. Not just getting the job done but banging it out of the park. I'm mixing metaphors here but you get the idea. Because let's face it, being "good enough" is too easy, and unsatisfying (shit, the sex puns just want to write themselves). There, it's in print now, and you can all hold me to it.

CALL ME OUT ON MY BULLSHIT, people. If I'm clearly not trying hard enough, slap me, hard.

The fat trimming would begin, coincidentally, with fat trimming. Before you guys start on me, yeah, I know I'm not fat. I'm clearly not thin either, and the truth is I probably never will be simply because of my body shape. But for someone who has always sat on the "underweight" side of the BMI scale, to be smack bang in the middle now makes me sad. Regular regimen, cutting out most of the junk (save for my How I Met Your Mother dates, because girl talk and sitcoms are not the same without chocolate), and throwing out my takeout menus. Earning points on Delivery.com is just not worth it. That's enough airing of laundry for the night.


I have had a fine start to my summer break, people. Enjoyed the company of great people, learned a lesson in managing expectations... there is one thing nagging the back of my head though.

I lost a friend recently. No, no one died, but through an offhand comment, I had manged to offend someone irrevocably. Obviously, a button got pushed that I shouldn't have played around with in the first place. I have went over my words repeatedly and have decided point blank, that I would not apologise for them, because the entire friendship was based on two people who can be brutally honest with each other, and an apology would simply be a lie. Knowing him to be who he is, I am sure he would not see my side of things either. Stale mate, a friend is lost. I haven't thought about this for days now, namely because I've had a blissful few days, and I'm a brilliant compartmentaliser. But today, waking up in an empty bed, feeling a little disoriented and then realising that the person I normally try to make sense of it all to, to jot down these related elements in my life in a cohesive way, I can no longer relate to. For that, on a day that I was already kinda bummed, the arrow ticked over into the blue zone.

Let's focus on the bliss for a moment here. I won't go too much into it, but good food, good friends, and other kinds of good times. The lesson here is to just go with it, that if it feels right, then don't let inconsequential things hinder you any. And High Fidelity is still an awesome film no matter how many times I've seen it.

The Girlfriend Experience is on showtime right now. You know, for someone who performs like a champ in front of a camera for adult activities, Sasha Grey is really an incredibly dull person. Speaking of which, could we pause for a moment to revel in the recently resurrected hotness of scarjo? She has reclaimed her heights at the Match Point levels of hot, meaning, had I not been in the company of people, I may have had a much bigger reaction to that last black widow fight sequence.

Alright, this post is now officially living up to its title, time to call it a night. It is now a Friday though, so you know what that means...

Five scenes from my life in 2010 so far.

* The night before leaving Melbourne, Dean, Maya and Yoyo in my drive way, making things impossible.

* After Jimmy's critiques of the Poetry Projects, the running outside followed by the 45 minutes of uncontrollable sobbing that occurred.

* Studio 2F, Voice and Speech class, the most awkward thing to have happened this year, you know what I'm talking about.

* Corner of 32nd and 5th Ave, outside Chicken Revolution, two girls screaming at each other about life changing things.

* Walking out of Hotel Chelsea with a certain red head


here comes the sun

Or, coming out of 'Pause Poise'
...which would literally mean 'waiting to exhale'

Did I tell you that my room is, for the moment at least, "complete"?

Bedside table, assembled. Posters, up. Bookshelves, overflowing. I have the most perfect cozy nook this side of 14st street (as far as I'm concerned), and I'm not afraid to roost.

The funds are getting tighter, which makes my 'easy living' something of a game. The weather is finally turning on the charms. I remember this time last year I was discovering new land, and myself, cohabitation, and making new friends whom I wish I could see more often, or even at all. Early Spring days that feel like summer could now only mean Coney Island, gelati, and spontaneous bursts of joy - all very good things to associate with (except for Coney Island, which is just hilarious). This time around it would never be the same again, and as nostalgic as I like to be sometimes, I'm still pretty freakin' excited.

Drama school is, as common knowledge, pretty much synonymous with psycho therapy. Either replacing it, or driving you towards it. Being the usual ball of needy mess that I am (while maintaining a perfectly painted and pruned exterior), the summer finally means a chance to get my breath back. Release from the 'Pause Poise', if you will. The well of insecurities which I managed to clamp shut most of this semester finally broke a few weeks ago, and with it everything else broke too. Got sick for the first time in ages, felt alone for the first time in ages, got back on my feet on my own for the first time in ages, and looked forward to a break from everything for the first time in ages. Do you ever get the feeling that you love everything that you're doing, but you just want it to stop for a while? That you are just so absolutely exhausted from everything, you could hole up in the fetal position and stay there for months? I am there right now, even with all the shit that the humidity of New York summer dumps on my face, I say, BING. IT. ON. I am so ready for you.

Someone once told me, I write a lot, but I say nothing in these blogs, and I realised that it's annoyingly true. I hate those viciously vague blogs that waft on about intangibles, and here I am, wafting on about intangibles. It's because the people I would have to write about, would most definitely object to being written about. You should write me an email requesting for clarification or anecdotal evidence. I compose excellently juicy emails that would ramble on ad nauseam about any number of topics. I am the fountain of random inconsequential knowledge peppered with sassy opinion seasoning on absolutely everything.


missing stacks

My apartment looks directly into the window of this dude who leaves the TV on at all hours. There's some animal planet show on, something predatory. I wonder if he can see into my window just as easily when I'm perched at my makeup stool in the mornings, covered by a towel (at the best of times).

I'm not sure if this place feels exactly like home yet. I bought a refurbished 1950s rotary dial princess phone to go on the land line, connecting that made me feel a bit like an adult, the fact that the first phone call I received was a wrong number made it feel real. The bulk of my books are on their way to me now but the bookshelves are already full. I'm destined for homes that would perpetually look messy from stacks of books lying around.

Life evolves around our lady, Miss Adler. My days and nights are spent hauling ass to-ing and fro-ing from home, to studio. Sometimes involving an air-mattress.

It's been bliss.

Over a year in New York, I'm still not used to it. I've got my patterns and endless lists to do, to see. Try as I might I'm still scratching at surfaces, that's just a part of living here I guess, the constant realisation that the city has endless offerings. I'm sure I'll feel comfortable once all my books get here, and my posters go up, and the rest of this shoebox gets filled with things that make me smile.

All this is my fault really. I seem to settle into the discomfort of being in limbo. There's a bedside table that I have refused to assemble for the last 4 months, still sitting in its box in my entrance hall. there's the summer clothes I've set aside that I still need to put away, just in time for the approaching warmer months. I get into the habit of being too angry with myself to do anything about it. Masochistic much?

I had wanted to sleep early tonight, and it's now 1:30. So I'll leave it at that, but I'm not done yet, not by a long shot...

5 topics I need to cover tomorrow when I pick this up again:

1. Books not read
2. Films not seen (and therefore entirely uninformed Oscar predictions)
3. The outpouring of love I feel for a surprising number of people in my section
4. Cupcake adventures
5. The further misadventures of my romantic encounters.


distractions and funnel vision

She stands in the entrance, propping her elbows on either side of the door frame waiting for a cue, anything that gives her an excuse to stay. The stagnant air that pushes so heavily against her chest seems to fall dead at his feet. The room looks just the same as it always did. The life outside the building leaks through the crack at the window, mixing with the slight wisps of cool air in loud honks and colourful language. He circles around, talks within, languishing in his own bubble.