I am so stuffed with vegetable curry that I have trouble moving. It's actually time for me to resume studying for Phonetics and Phonology now, but I'm too busy Facebook-ing. Tralala.

'

Whoever said that probably wasn't talking about cabs, but I think it's very applicable to those who are all too familiar (read: lazy) with taxis in Singapore. To save time, you pay more money so that you can get to your destination faster. If you want to save money, be prepared to spend that extra hour on the train or bus – which can be very, VERY unbearable – especially when you have to stand the entire time. After spending a hundred over dollars on cab fares last week, I am feeling the pinch and the big gaping hole in my wallet. Sigh, sigh, sigh.

With a skip and a 'ho' and a 'hey nonny no'! HEY! (I threw in the last word just for hyou. Hyes, hyou!)

Random sentences: I skipped classes today. Ban mian makes me happier. I feel like I've aged tremendously in the space of one day. It doesn't always take monumental events to impact and shape someone's character, although the alterations are often drastic with shocking results. Sometimes, it's the accumulation of little acts and statements that deaden and darken your soul like a treacherous poison. I know this well; I know the little pinpricks of pain as you slowly chisel away at my heart with more spite than mercy. But then, I'll just smooth my hands over the cracks and tell myself it's okay.

People are just different this way.

I'm finally done with all my projects, presentations and miscellaneous submissions! That leaves me with just one more phonetics test on Friday before I can finally devote all my time to studying for the finals. The past few weeks have been horrible for my mental and physical states, so I took the liberty to shamelessly burn the last weekend watching Season 4 of Family Guy. Now that I'm done drawing up a revision timetable, I really hope I can do well. I need to, and I must.

It seems so hard for me to really smile, be happy and relaxed these days, despite much conscious effort to not let the weariness get the better of me –

Oh gosh! Digression! My laptop just made this funny squeaky robotic sound to notify me about something regarding the 'sticky keys' option. 'Tis an amusement indeed! Hahaha. And yes, it's new to me; my laptop speakers are usually muted or tuned down.

Anyway. Weariness. Gah. Oh a brighter note, my Dad is back from Pakistan and all has been well in the family so far. May peace reign thus in the kingdom, hurhur.

I am me, I have always been me and I will believe in myself. And you.

I'm sitting in the Radiopulze studios now, with a hundred percent intention and zero percent of motivation to work on my article for the Media Writing newsletter project. Within ten minutes after I took a single measly sip green tea, I was politely confronted by not one but TWO members of the CIT (Centre for Information Technology, I think.) studios about bringing drinks in. Which is quite laughable, especially in light of the double standards practised by dear ol' Victor, who manages the studios on behalf of CIT. The inflexible nature of some people never ceases to amuse me. Hurhur.

I'm not much of a luxury goods person but I still think this is pretty cool, except they should have made the flower-like motif an orchid. Although the picture shows that the location is around Wheelock Place, I haven't seen it anywhere. It must have been some temporary young designers' project. Either that or I was just not observant enough. All that aside, there's no better place than Orchard Road to have a LV-monogram inspired mailbox, which would fit right in with the likes of Paragon and Takashimaya.

Yesterday's Phonetics and Phonology test was quite manageable, so I'm hoping that my grades will reflect that. That leaves me with two New Media projects, another Media Writing Assignment, a Singapore Film mid-term and the project for said module. While the prospect of storyboarding and filming for the latter is exciting, it's also stressing me out that we haven't settled many important things yet. I managed to get Chuang May to be our lead actress and I think she's perfect for the role. Fingers crossed, fingers crossed.

Speaking of Singapore Film, the Singapore Film Commission will fund the production costs for the feature films of nine young directors under this thing called the New Feature Fund scheme (full story here). I like the idea of experienced directors mentoring the aspiring filmmakers and I suppose it's a good move to discover more Eric Khoos and Royston Tans in our midst. I really do want to watch 'My Magic', but people have been telling me how disturbingly graphic some of the scenes are. During one of the film lectures, our lecturer told us that many people walked out during the screening at Cannes – or some other film festival; can't remember – because of how grossed out they were. Ah well.

http://www.abeautifulrevolution.com/blog/absurd/index.html

In a Gothic theme park, we sat for a while. Drinking whisky from the bottle, eating jellied-eel from the stream. Tongue tied and hazy, I started to dream. Unimpressed and eccentric, she ate from the stream. Then a butterfly passed, and she let out a gasp, and I could no longer tell, if my dream stood a chance.

In a Gothic theme park, we sat for a while. She watched butterflies dance, whilst I played Russian roulette with my heart. I loaded the gun, wrapped my finger around the trigger, took a deep breath, and left it all to chance. 'Kiss me,' I shouted. Oh how she laughed. Playing Russian roulette with my heart, whilst the butterflies dance.

In a Gothic theme park, we sat for a while. Drinking whisky from the bottle, waiting for my chance. But she has left me now, in this gothic theme park. Wishing we could start afresh, take back all I asked. Nothing ventured nothing gained but oh the pain. Playing Russian roulette with my heart, whilst the butterflies dance.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Check out my new distraction: Andre Jordan. I am mesmerised by the fluid simplicity with which two seemingly uncomplementary images fit together so perfectly in 'Playing Russian roulette with my heart, whilst the butterflies dance'. My heart is now aching in a strange kneading way as I picture this whole Burton-esque scene in my head; it's not difficult to imagine Johnny Depp in all 'Edward Scissorhands' self-deprecation as the male protagonist, despairing as delicate butterfly wings brush his cheeks as a reminder of his fragile, fleeting hope. Ah.

This one's for Lisa. :)

You only stay with me in the morning,

You only hold me when I sleep,

I was meant to tread the water,

But now I've gotten in too deep,

For every piece of me that wants you,

Another piece backs away.

'Cause you give me something,

That makes me scared alright,

This could be nothing,

But I'm willing to give it a try,

Please give me something,

'Cause someday I might know my heart.

You only waited up for hours,

Just to spend a little time alone with me,

And I can say I've never bought you flowers,

I can't work out what they mean,

I never thought that I'd love someone,

That was someone else's dream.

'Cause you give me something,

That makes me scared alright,

This could be nothing,

But I'm willing to give it a try,

Please give me something,

'Cause someday I might call you from my heart.

But it might be a second too late,

And the words that I could never say,

Are gonna come out anyway.

'Cause you give me something,

That makes me scared alright,

This could be nothing,

But I'm willing to give it a try,

Please give me something,

Mmmm

'Cause you give me something,

That makes me scared alright,

This could be nothing,

But I'm willing to give it a try,

Please give me something,

Cause someday I might know my heart.

Know my heart,

Know my,

Know my heart,

Mmmmhmmm

I planned to wake up at 7 a.m. (Come on, that's pretty decent!) to finish revising for good ol' Phonetics and Phonology but my body simply refused to cooperate. It's 1 p.m. now and I'm STILL not doing any revision. Perhaps listing down the things I have to accomplish by today will jolt me into Productive Mode, so here goes:

To-do List for Sunday, 28 September 2008:
1. Finish remaining 3 chapters for Sound System of English
2. Re-do tutorials for the above
3. Do up 'Language and History' slides for Inter-cultural Communication project
4. Start on readings for Media Writing reflection

Oh dear, that does seem like alot now, doesn't it?

ANYWAY.

Loolooolooooooooo!

One bloody seventeen p.m.; I spaced out for a whole thirteen minutes, whoopdeedoo. The bulk of my recess week was spent on studying and projects, leaving precious little time for rest and play. My mum always has this moment nearing the end of the holidays when she will start lamenting, "If I had just one more day, I would be contented." This is probably familiar to most people. Although I feel pretty good about actually being quite productive in terms of schoolwork, I still wish there was more time to go out, shop, exercise and read the pile of wonderful books that remain untouched in the corner of my shelf. Books that aren't textbooks or bound pages of readings, thank you very much. There's 'Twilight' by Stephenie Meyer and 'The Shadow of the Wind' by Carlos Ruiz Zafón, borrowed from my cousin Zhuang and Melv respectively, as well as 'Specimen Days' by Michael Cunningham, bought from Cheers at the petrol station (of all places). There's also what's left of 'The English Patient', which I unceremoniously abandoned for 'The Kite Runner'—great read alert! I can't start on them because I KNOW I'll just keep ploughing on and on till I reach the end of the book while neglecting other more pressing things in my life. Bad. Bad, bad Stevie. Baaaaaaaaaad. That's probably the only line I can remember best from Semester 1's 'The Secret Agent'! Haha.

The Student Exchange Programme (SEP) list is out, and I've narrowed down my choices to the University of Copenhagen in Denmark and the University of Amsterdam in the Netherlands; both have pretty good courses that are relevant to both my majors and I'm really looking forward to doing the tourist thing with my friends instead of my family, for the very first time—I know, I know. My parents are strict like that. L The Beijing trip in primary 6 does not count as there were so many teachers mothering us anyway. Melv and Jem already have plans to tour certain parts of Europe after our semester in either one of those places, but I'm not too sure about that. Besides the fact that my parents will probably object, there's also the nagging issue about money. I guess I'll have to find work during the holidays to settle at least part of that problem and like Melv said, I have one whole year to convince my parents that I can take care of myself abroad. I really hope I don't have to go back to do relief teaching again. It's not that I hated the job to the core (Candice, do you beg to differ? Hehe.) and it's not that it was an utter waste of time—okay, only on SOME days—but as someone whose chances of entering the teaching profession are about 5 percent, I would like to try out other things that'll be more relevant to what I want to do next time.

Speaking of relief teaching, I was reading my ex-colleague's blog where she shares her experiences and thoughts about being a teacher. She mentioned something about striving to be 'consistent in her respect for (her) students', which I've found to be extremely difficult. I mean, I've never scolded any student without explaining to him or her why I did that, 'cos I think it's really important to make it clear that I'm not picking on them for no apparent reason; I regard them with the respect they deserve as teenagers and I've always tried my very best to make sure I don't embarrass or humiliate them in front of their peers. It's evident that a little respect goes a long way, but sometimes enough is enough. There have been occasions when I felt taken advantage of, and it's hard to not falter in your resolve to keep seeing the good in them when whatever they've done tells you that they don't deserve it.

"Being a teacher is not easy." I'm saying this and feeling it with all my heart. The shortage of teachers in Singapore has resulted in the introduction of more set of perks, bonuses and flexible schemes like Contract Teaching to draw more people to the profession. "Profession" makes it sound like any Tom, Dick or Harry can be a teacher with adequate training. It is therefore unsurprising that the teaching profession has become diluted with (i) people who turn to teaching as a last resort 'cos they couldn't find other jobs, (ii) people who had no choice but to go to NIE due to poor A-level results and really wanted a university degree that's not from a private U and (iii) people who just see teaching as a job that will bring in the bacon. If this is the case, how is it possible for jadedness to not set in? Why do you think there are so many teachers who couldn't care less? I'm not trying to mock, insult or take the moral high-ground here, just stating some observed facts. To expect somebody who has the perfect balance of ability (i.e. has been trained), heart and soul is probably idealism at work, but I have tremendous admiration for those who try and keep on trying. That's why I think Allyson (said colleague) is amazing. We could do with more teachers like her.

"A detached observer of the self's current state of semi-paralysis by pointlessenvy, instantregret and a mild degree of self-deprecation. "

This is what you get for snooping, darling.

You know, after the emotions are taken out, this is actually quite laughable.

My brain is currently in 'Weekend Warrior' mode, fuelled by caffeine and gummy bears. School work is becoming slightly more manageable, apart from that horrid Historical English module and there's still dear ol' Crusoe and Pamela left for Lit, but otherwise I think I've caught up with the pace of my other modules. Project season is a bitch, as usual. But that, I can handle. On the plus side, my newfound emotional stability is sweet, sweet relief after a particularly rough patch. I had the best sleep in weeks on Thursday night –quality sleep, mind you – I had intended to start doing secondary research for my 'Principles of Communication Management' project, but my bed was too soft and comfortable to resist. Oh well. Oh wellsss. Having had one night of good rest in a week, with the help of a few (A FEW.) cups of coffee, I've been rather productive in terms of getting work done! I'm feeling pretty indestructible at the moment, actually. Ha ha (I'm imagining Denise's incredulous little laugh as I type this.)

I went back to Bedok today for the first time since TJ and I felt that nostalgia thing again. Found myself talking about old hang-outs like BK and Princess Cinema, thinking about people and the things they said there. Bittersweet, I'd say, but more sweet. It's just the way some people stick with you even after they've left you physically, how their mannerisms, words and actions can be played and re-played in your head like a tape. There's this part of my heart that isn't mine anymore because it's been divided into little fragments and given to those whose lives have touched mine, idiosyncrasies and all.

Ooh, a proper blog entry. Finally. (:

Reflecting on how I've dealt with recent events has made me realise that I've indeed changed a great deal over the past year. Less idealism, a lot more pragmatism; less fretting, more action. I see all these as positive changes because they allow me to deal with tough stuff in a calmer and more rational manner, and I've been priding myself on that all this while. And yet, at the same time, I now see that I must drop the Superwoman thing sometimes, 'cos there are instances when others aren't really asking for solutions; they just need a listening ear and a source of comfort. I suck at consoling, I really do. But I promise I'll try to be more sensitive. Promise.

I need chocolate. Like, now.

Haven't we all had instances when we spent a long time explaining something to someone, only to have him or her not comprehend a thing at all? Or, just think about the last time you wished that a particular person would just shut up because although he was talking a lot, it just seemed like utter nonsense to you.

Then, think about how somebody turned your world around with a few simple words, caused your heart to ache from the deepest crevices with just a gaze, or weaved you a whole tapestry of emotions in a brief moment of silence.

Amazing, isn't it? (:

I've always envied people with smiling eyes.

Phonology is that branch of linguistics which studies the sound system of languages. The sound system involves

• the actual pronunciation of words, which can be broken up into the smallest units of pronunciation, known as a segment or a phoneme. ( The words pat, chat and fat have different phonemes at the beginning, and so phonemes contrast with each other to produce different words.)
  
• prosody – pitch, loudness, tempo and rhythm – the 'music' of speech. (Other terms used are non-segmental phonology or supra-segmental phonology.)
  

Oh, how I adore EL2111: Historical Variation in English.

Sunday -- the Day of Last-minute Work. I can practically hear my lecture slides calling my name! Nooooooo.

I'm thinking about chocolate. Warm, melted and thick. Dark. Sinful, yet oh-so-tempting. Temptation. Tempt, tempter, tempted.

Mmmmhmm. Happy Chinese New Year, everyone. Bring on the ang pows and pineapple tarts!

I think it was the chocolate that did it.

It's hard to be true to yourself in a world full of people wearing two (or more) faces, but it's even harder to be true to yourself in your own mental landscape; that internal hall of mirrors we must each confront in our solitary moments. To face the grotesque distortions that frighten us, distortions of ourselves that we cannot even recognise sometimes...she has been trying to keep those at bay and her resolve is faltering, but she nevertheless tries. "We'll both be true to ourselves this year." A resolution for 2008; she keeps her half of the promise that means so, so much.

She has always been herself, never putting on a facade to deceive him of her true nature: she's very emotional, high-strung, not lady-like and speaks a combination of good standard English, a smattering of Chinese and some choice Hokkien phrases. Madness? A bit of that. But ultimately a friend, just wanting to listen and hopefully, advise. A house on fire, and then pop, sizzle and fizzle.

Boom.

Last night, she felt the coldness of a blade.

Wake me up when it's over

Wake me up when it's done

When he's gone away and taken everything

Wake me up

Wake me up when the skies are clearing

When the water is still

Cause I will not watch the ships sail away so

Please say you will

If it were any other day

This wouldn't get the best of me

But today I'm not so strong

So lay me down with a sad song

And when it stops then you know I've been

Gone too long

But don't shake me awake

Don't bend me or I will break

Come find me somewhere between my dreams

With the sun on my face

I will still feel it later on

But for now I'd rather be asleep

Only for today, Pearlyn. Only for today, please.

The dam burst, and the floods came.

Why is this happening to us?

Don't force me, please.

She thought of looking out of the windows of all those trains and buses, looking at the feet and backs of all those -people. Nothing was ever different. They were all the same. All of the words and all of the smiles, every tear and every gag just something to do. - Sula, Toni Morrison

The exams have ended, and unfortunately, my feelings of post-exam jubilation have died down significantly as well. The thought of that screwed up Lit essay is such a wet blanket on my spirits. Ugh. I suppose there's no point thinking about it. Yeah, but it's not as if NOT thinking about it is going to prevent me from flunking the paper. "Pearlyn fails Lit." Oh, the shock and horror.

Anyway. Post-exam shopping with Angela at Far East Plaza was fruitful, with both of us tearing through the shops like madwomen deprived of ten years of retail therapy. Cindyong and I are supposed to start exercising and tanning this week, but the heavy rains have ruined our rendezvous with the sun. Our first gym session showed both of us how unfit we had become after months without proper exercise—imagine me huffing and puffing after jogging for a mere ten minutes on the treadmill while all the JC athletes were running like Duracell Bunnies on steroids next to me! It looks like it'll take weeks to regain some semblance of the stamina I once possessed during a particularly obsessive period of intensive running, gymming and swimming.

Table-turning is a fine art, indeed. Such deep understanding, such shrewd manipulation of the female psyche. Hurhur.

To all the bastards fond of this lovely little manoeuvre: be careful, 'cos we might just use it on you too.

With the box on her lap, she took out the first letter and opened it. She allowed her eyes to skim over, 'Dear Lyn', before tearing the letter into halves. Quarters. Eighths. Paper confetti.

She tore and tore, until there was no more left.

Shoot the green-eyed monster! Bonus points if you hit her right between her huge freaky eyes!

ARGH.

Stop it, Pearlyn. Stop probing.

Bitter biter. Biter Bitter.

I am ANNOYED!

If I possessed enough html know-how to make that last word glow red, shake violently before bursting into flames, I would do it.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I'm trembling, and my palms are icy cold.

What the hell is wrong with these people?

Maybe, just maaaaybe, I'll let you know when I run out of reminders. Let's see when....oh wait. Oh! Oh! OH! WAIT! Darrmdaaaardummdummdumm....

I ALREADY HAVE MORE THAN I NEED, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Now what are the odds on that?

Gee.

I'm sipping a mug of green tea right now. Sipping and sipping like a little old lady. All I need is my green shawl (which apparently, resembles a mouldy spinach leaf, according to Carnivore Friend), ten cats and lace doilies for my furniture. Gave Advances Japanese a miss yesterday 'cos I was totally pooped after my GEM1008 test...crappy paper, shadn't elaborate. Anyway, exam season had arrived and stress is in the air. Waking up at unearthly hours to study has taken its toll on my body, as seen from my puffy face and pallid complexion. Mummy was worried, so she got me to accompany her to the Chinese medicinal hall yesterday and asked the lady boss whether she had any appropriate remedy of twigs and leaves. The lady recommended rose hip tea, which contains lots of good stuff that can aid the liver in detoxifying the body. The little rose buds smell wonderful and are rather pretty to look at, so it's quite nice and I won't mind drinking it everyday.

Yesterday, I only had ONE teensy weensy teacup of coffee! I'm actually trying to cut down on my caffeine intake, after realising that my dependency on it is bordering on addiction. So do me a favour, and keep reminding me that I can only drink one cup a day. (:

Sip, sip, sip. This is really therapeutic. I'm in some sort of semi-Zen mode right now. All together now: OoouuuuuuuuuuuummmMMmMMmmmMmmmmmmm.

And off I go, back to the Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms.

He haunts her in so many ways that he shouldn't. Memories cannot be erased, like a patchwork of scars that remain after old wounds heal. Sometimes, she finds herself tracing those scars with her finger, and it's as if he's carving into her skin all over again. She screams as the layers are broken. Screams that echo inside her head, screams that no one can hear.

Boy loves Girl who loves boy. Loved.

Silly girl, what did she know about Love?

Not much, but I guess she did so with all her heart.

Heartless Boy. Prosthetic Boy. Ignorant Boy.

Hard-hearted Girl who screams and screams.

So many things that I usually won't be able to accept...

And yet.

I Wish

I wish,

I could somehow reach over

From where I am,

And smooth out your furrowed brow.

Puffs will cloud your mind

And drink can numb you now,

But Black and White are patient;

Linger around, they shall.

I wish,

(as many do)

I could deter the tedious but stealthy hands of Time;

So I can do more than just watch

The Chariot whisk away those I love,

But Mortality is a candle in the wind;

It burns brightly, but flickers

—ours too.

I wish,

You could walk the shore of life

And not be frightened,

For She will be in every corner turned.

Smiles for your triumphs,

Concern when you fall,

Heartaches at your anguish

—even now.

I wish,

My friend,

I wish.

What do you get when you put two sleep-deprived, emotionally unstable females together?

Warning: They have less than 8 hours of sleep, combined.

Inertia level has reached an all-time high. I've only typed two lines so far and Cindy hasn't even started on her Philosophy essay. I'm three-quarters through my first Americano, and I think I'll be needing another one later. Cindy's starting to freak me out with her whimpering and random bouts of nervous laughter. I think that's what Philo does to you. Giving her coffee was probably not such a good thing after all. Hohoho.

Good Morning, Baltimoreeeeeeeeeee!

I'm currently at Starbucks waiting for Miss Cindy Ong, craaaaaaaving for an Americano. I hope to finish my part for that detestable CNM project by 2p.m. and proceed to study a bit of Japanese before 4.30p.m. lesson. Good luck to people who're rushing to complete their projects or essays before they're due this coming Monday...it's pure madness, I tell you. Sheesh.

Untitled.

A shadow of the past...

Or not?

Illusions...

Maybe?

Look, past the Face,

The Neck—

That gentle swell beckoning. Quivering.

Dainty fingers tracing—

Pressing. Squeezing. Suffocating.

Nails

Digging into velvet.

The wounds are fresh.

I'm seated near these two NUS girls, who're talking really loudly about school and their modules and I've realised that the unnecessary "like" girls like to randomly add to their utterances just utterly annoys me. For example, "I take 4 exposure modules: CNM, Japanese Studies, English Language and English Lit. Jap Studies is, like, not what people think it is...I'm not learning the language—that's Jap Language, like, a different module. Jap Studies is, like, culture."

You could be speaking proper English all the way, but using too many redundant "like"s in your speech will make you sound like an airhead. Like, totally!

I think EL1101E (English Language) has made me extremely conscious and anal about this kind of thing. Hurhurhur. I'm always extra moody and grouchy on my way to school. And I always direct my frustrations towards my fellow commuters, which is a very nasty thing to do. I know. But I am -> <- close to telling them to lower their volume by several thousand decibels. Whoopdeedooo. Okay, pearlyn. Resist the urge to be bitchy and catty. You know you're really miffed 'cos you have yet to complete your New Media project. And also 'cos your toenails haven't had a new coat of polish in more than a month, and you caught a woman sitting opposite you in the train staring at the sorry, flaky state of your nail polish. And that dead-looking flower on your big toe. Get over yourself.

Oooh. Somebody's gonna love this one. One of the girls just called our campus radio station 'RADIOPLUS'. Haha! I instantly think of Fruit Plus, that cheap but nice chewy sweet that's oh-so-common during Chinese New Year. They're quite addictive, aren't they? I don't care much for the mint-flavoured ones, though. Queen of Random Nonsense, I am.

There's this mad man in the train compartment that's adjacent to mine, who is having an argument with an invisible person. Random soundbites : "DIE! DIE! You DIE!", "....three thousand! Three thousand Two hundred la! Sure WIN!" I think he probably became like that after losing a lot of money gambling. Hmmm. I think the man's fellow passengers were pretty traumatised by his cries of "DIEDIEDIE!!" They were probably worried that he would turn violent or something. Digression: my mother told me that even if an insane person kills somebody, his sentence would be less severe, compared to a sane person who committed the same crime. Fair or unfair?

Okay, I'm in no mood to continue.

This isn't another rant about Singaporean commuters. Not today, that is. It's my first time blogging on the crowded train, seated comfortably with my laptop and bag expertly balanced on my lap. For some reason, I'm not experiencing any Monday Blues today. My Monday Blues usually stem from a sense of guilt that arises from not making good use of the weekend, but since I spent Saturday morning and the whole of Sunday productively, I'm pretty satisfied with the amount of work I've managed to complete. It's going to be a hectic week ahead, with a consultation session for a position paper, interview with a professor for a project, meetings with the V Bash main and sub-committees, essays, projects and some other things I told myself I would do – swim/gym/run at least 3 times a week (Oh, the infernal weight gain. L ), clean my room, start studying for exams and help Mum with the housework. I feel really bad about not being home most of the time, not spending quality time with her whenever I'm home, getting all defensive and arguing with her over every innocuous little remark when I'm really just pissed off at myself for certain things. I think about how her loving hands have touched the iron that pressed the clothes on my body, about the sandwich she made for me while I was in the shower that so effectively dispels all morning hunger pangs......and I just want to give her a big, fat hug and hold onto her for as long as I can.