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.