Escape Artist

Raisin disappeared. Again! It's a normal occurance & I usually spot him again quite quickly if I go poking around the dark, dusty corners of my room.



But today, I thought I lost him for good. He vanished for far too long this time. As usual, I was whining to my best friend and she being very patient, tried to reassure & pacify me.



Then the darnest thing happened. As soon as I typed out, "I won't give up hope." in my chat room - I saw Raisin scurrying back to my feet! Talk about Law of Attraction!



Don't believe me? Believe it. He's happily munching away in his cage now. Fat pig!



*breathes a loud sigh of relieve*



How do you scream, "DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!!!!!!!!" in hamster language?






He looks pretty good when he combs his hair doesn't he?

Contentment

Finally. I'm in uni. It feels like it took me forever to get here.



After a series of highs, bumps & falls, this is the cherry on the cupcake for me. It's nothing short of a miracle.



I love my room - it overlooks the sports complex so I get free entertainment every evening. A huge bunch of shirtless guys running around, yelling & grunting. Oof, you can smell the testosterone from up here.



I love my lectures - I'm reading what I've always been curious about.



I love my new found friends - They're good looking & they're crazy. Suits me just fine. :D The guys here actually SHOP. They walked into a store even before we girls stepped in. I'm just in awe.

I love the campus - I could get used to the greens & the lake. It's like a vacation resort out here! Oh! The ducks! That was a crucial part of my uni fantasies and we've got 7 Asian short neck swans waddling around the lake so my dreams came true.





Up to this point, you'd probably realise that this post is really really weird. No ranting, whining, nagging, sobbing, moaning, kicking or screaming.

Ah. But I do have ONE problem. One friend after hearing my enthusiasm about uni over & over again dryly replied, "I think your standards are too low."

*toot* !@#$%^&*



Well of course there are the downside of things. It's not perfect. But after finally finding a place to call uni. A decent place at that. Where the lecturers are not too bad to look at either. Who am I to complain? :P



Psst...It gets even better.



I lost weight. *big sloppy grin* All that walking to the very last block, to the very top floor, to the place where I now call "My Room" and sucky cafeteria food was the secret to my success. Give it a try. Visible results guaranteed in 2 weeks only.

Masculinity

I have a very deep, masculine voice.

I don't think there's anything wrong with it.

My girl friends tell me it's sexy.

The guys dare not comment about.

But still, it is my voice.

The phone operators have been referring to "Sir" for as long as I can remember. Justifiable of course, since they don't have the benefit of feasting their eyes on my feminine body. Ah, but this was all too new for me.

I tried Canadian pizza for the first time yesterday. As expected, they gleaned whatever information they could of me to feed into their database. It started with the usual, Sir this, Sir that. I don't bother correcting them anymore, I'm past that. Can't blame the poor operators anyway.

So the pizza guy asks for my name.

Me: My name's Stephanie, Miss Stephanie.

Deaf Pizza guy: Hah? Mrs Stephanie ar????!!!

Me: No, it's Miss Stephanie

Traumatic Confused Pizza guy: Are you a girl, Sir????!!!

Me: Yes, I'm a girl

My best guess is that the poor chap initially thought I was all man, then he concluded I was a woman. But alas, when he finally realised I was a girl he must have started pulling out his hair from the shock. I tried so hard not to burst out laughing! :)

In my 15th year, it was just my luck that I joined a tuition class which came with a bunch of boys. Clearly they were idiots. They would tease about my "manly" voice, but that's ok. I was already used to it. However, I wasn't quite used to people fashioning a newsletter out of the backs of our exercise books just to set up voting polls to question my sexuality.

It when something like this.

Do you think Stephanie is a transsexual?

A. Like Duh! (She's a giant and her voice is so scary!)

B. Must be lah. (But when did she go for the sex-change op? She's only 15! She must be desperate. Oh wait, Shim)

C. Should be. (But I can't see the Adam's apple)

D. Could it be that she was a man born in a woman's body

E. Anyone dare to go ask her? (I don't think she'll kill you. At least I hope not)

I can only imagine the taunting transvestites have to go through. Try to seeing past the surface.

Even the Thais think I'm a product of their legendary gender-change operations. To be frank, I don't believe that I'm even half as pretty as the transvestites. Upon arriving in Phuket last year, the cab driver who picked us up at the airport tried to strike up friendly conversation. 

In the midst of it, he asked me straight in the face, "Are you a lady-boy?".

The only time I received what might pass as a compliment on my unique voice was in high school, when a rival debater came up to me and commented that I had a majestic voice. I'm still wondering if he was trying to be sarcastic.

All of this brings me back to a conversation I had with my mum a long time ago.

Me: Ma, maybe I was meant to be a guy. (I guess I did have some tendencies)

Mum: Why?

Me: Because my voice is deep, I'm huge and I'm hairy?

Mum: No. You were meant to be a gorilla.

*gRiN* I'd rather be a female gorilla than to be a man anyday! 

Happy Mother's Day, Mucha Lucha!

*poof*dust dust dust*wipe with a damp rag*Scrub with anti-bacterial detergent*

Ahhh...there we are. I found my own blog again. I just noticed how pompous my blog titile was, "Footprints of a Globetrotter". Sheesh...I am apalled! We must do some renovation here! I guess I felt I covered quite a bit of land last year when I visited 4 Southeast Asian countries courtesy of Airasia and I had the intention of using this blog to record my so-called adventures beyond the sea. However very naturally, resolutions are only meant to stay as lucid plans which will slowly but steadiy vanish into thin air. Speaking of travelling, I have no idea how my mum is so incredibly able when it comes to snagging free Airasia tickets off the internet but she can never remember how to check her Inbox. Mothers. Such a wonder they are.

I always feel a tad bit uncomfortable when Mother's Day or Father's Day swings by. Ugh. Inevitably, the church will have a cheesy presentation by the kids, declaring their love and adoration for our parents in their multicolour outfits. Guess who buys it? Not only the beaming with pride mums sitting in the front row. I'm not referring to the enthusiatic dads clicking away with their digicams right in front of the stage, obscuring everyone from the view. Nope. I'm the sucker. Me. The single 21 year old with a medical career ahead so any plans of mating can be suitably shelved for at least the next 10 years. I'd be blinking back my tears(in vain) and this overwhelming feeling(unavoidable, I tell you!) will wash over me and I'd end up feeling like smacking myself for falling for the cute itsey bitsey "I love you, Mummy and Daddy!" cheers from children who aren't even mine.

Of course, my parents are to be blamed for this uncontrolable display of emotion! I have been blesssed with, without a doubt, the best parents anyone could ask for. But today's Mother's Day so let's show you a bit of my mum.

Typically, after the kids presentation we had the sermon where a pastor came out to preach a Mother's Day sermon. In the middle of it, her sons came on stage(both around my age, ahem) and sang her a song. It was very simple, none of that poetic, read between the lines crap. So you can guess, my vision was starting to blur with tears again and then I hear my mum saying,

"You cannot marry these boys lah, they're Mama's boys."

That's my mum from you. Correction. That's only a tiny fraction of my mum. The things she says are so outrageously inappropriate but she gets away with it because we just burst out laughing till our insides hurt. If you thought I was a nutter wait till you meet my mum.

People have always commented, "You speak to your mum as if she's your friend. No respect lah you." *snorts* I say! Don't be jealous! :P There are more than one ways to be a mother. For being the only child, my mum made up for it by being my Mother, my Sister and my Best Friend. I remember when I first started playing tennis, I'd follow her to the park to just whack around on my own(Yes, I was a lil's addicted) while she had her evening exercise. But what do you know, mum offers to be my ball machine and unfortunately my ball picker. Having said that, she also ran a high risk of being bludgeoned by a very inexperienced tennis player. How? How did she do such a good job in being a mother? Does she have a manual hidden somewhere? It seems so effortless for her! I'm just gonna hand my kids over to her once they turn into rebellious, teeth-gnashing teenagers and promptly collect them back when they start gettting their paychecks.

So now it's my turn, *in an itsey bitsey voice: I love you, Mummy!*

Thank God for mothers.