All right. I get it. I'm supposed to be pressing my nose against my Sociology readings. Missed last week's lessons and subsequently, did not manage to read the 3 essays we were supposed to have done before coming for tutorials today. Still, Imma invest some time in you, Blogger, because let's face it. I need a break. I fell asleep after reading 1 essay just now because I was just so tired. BUT I promise I shal finish the rest before end of the week.

Grandma arrived Sunday night. Mum fetched her from the airportin the evening, since her flight was due to arrive at 6.30pm, and she'd ask us to head down to the void deck to help her upstairs. When I went down and saw her for the 1st time in 4 years, my heart swelled with emotion. It's the same old Grandma who used to read me stories about my Granddad, who sent us boxes of found-only-in-England goodies and cans of tuna fish. John West makes excellent tuna fish, by the way.

Its the same Grandma all right. But at the same time, she looked so different. Her hair had gone thinner. She moved more slowly and her hands were bonier than ever. When she stepped out of the car and got a look at my sister and I standing there, she started crying. And to be honest, I teared up too, not because I'm finally seeing her for the first time, but because I know that this might very well be the last time I'd see her.

So I led her to the apartment while the sister lugged her luggage into the living room. And then I helped her get settled in the study room so she could unpack. As per usual, she started unloading clothes for me siblings and I, and all these boxes of chocolates and sweets for us and I kept saying "Grandma, you didn't need to!" But she stubbornly waved me aside. Then she dug into her waller and extracted a ratty and incredibly tattered only envelop that I fully recognized as one that I had sent her a letter to many years ago when I was a young girl, asking her to come and "take Mummy away because she scolded me and I hate her now".

Then she handed me this 50 dollar note, and I absolutely refused to take it. But she stubbornly shoved it into my chest and went "Take it! I have more!" I felt bad for taking money from her. After all, she's elderly and $50 is probably 20 pounds in London, which is actually quite a lot. Then she proceeded to hand $50 to my sister and brother each, before coming back to me and surprising me with another $10 and said "This one is especially for you." And when I started to protest, she said with surprising force "Take!"

And so I did. Not to boast, but "WENDY, GRANDMA GAVE $10 MORE BECAUSE ITS A FACT THAT SHE LOVES ME MORE THAN YOU. SO SUCKS TO BE YOU."

Whatever. Aunt C told me that Grandma had confided in her that she felt my sister and my brother didn't like her, and that her favourite grandchild has been me all along. Well of course I love my Grandma. She's the only Grandma that I know, other than my paternal grandmother, but she's had Alzheimer's for as long as I can remember so I didn't really socialize with her much.

Plus, my Grandma used her awesome(debatable) psychic powers to say I'd marry a good looking Caucasian man! LAH DEE DAH. But yes, I'm a skeptic. I don't believe in pseudopsychology.

I think the most heart shattering moments I had with her while helping her unpack was bearing witness to she was succumbing to her brain-degenerating disease. She had 2 cards in her hand, one for my sister and one for my mother. She'd figure out which was for who one minute, but 5 minutes later, she'd retrive both cards and stare at them for such a long time, that when I asked her what was wrong, she went "I don't remember which card is for who." When I pointed out the names to her, she'd be satisfied and bustle off to do something else. Then 5 minutes later, she'd return to the cards and stare at them again, asking me if she had wrote down the recepients' names on the card.

When I told her she should write the names on the envelope as well so she could see who it was for without having to open it again, she happily obliged. My heart cracked when I saw her struggle to hold the pen steadily, and literally broke next, when she asked "How to spell Susan(mum's name)?"

She had forgotten how to spell her own daughter's name. The only name that she could remember how to spell as her own.

After I had recited the alphabets to her, I locked myself in the master bathroom and just cried. All my life, I had thought my grandmother was an indestructable woman. She's survived World War II in Singapore, poverty, a failed marriage brought on by my granddad having an affair with another woman, returned to Singapore and holding 2 jobs to educate my aunt and mother and returning to England to live the life of an old woman, and now, her brain is slowly wasting away and I'd have to face the reality that 5 years from now, she might either not recognize me anymore, or be dead.

I think its moments like these, where people whom you care receive the wrong end of the stick, that makes you want to turn to religion to seek, not only answer, but also peace and serenity.

Am going back home on Friday and going to spend quality time with her til Sunday night before she flies off on Monday morning.

Person and Society lecture started yesterday. There's this cute Caucasian student, probably on foreign exchange, in the lecture, and did I mention that he's cute? Too bad I was sitting in from of him. My id is so embarrassing sometimes, but thankfully he's not in my tutorial group or I'd be so distracted. Besides, the good thing about being in my tutoria group is that people in my class, are extremely knowledgeble about world affairs. They are very verbally-dominant people. In my defence, may I just point that I actually had similar ideas to them, its just that whenver I want to speak up, they do so before me. One guy would speak, and before anyone can respons, another would immediately jump in. Like word-vomit. And the worst part is I was the new girl there, so everyone else knew each other already. And the tutor rates participatation marks according to what students have contributed, and the only word I contributed was "ethnicity"

Fuck.

I paired with this Year 2 student and we had to discuss the racial riots in London with the sociological theories we were supposed to have read last week. I'm glad I actually knew enough, or rather, had my own opinions about the racial riots to comment about it. I definetely didn't want to sound like a bumbling idiot who knows nothing about going-ons in the world.

Anyhow, I really gotta step up in this P&S class. All the classes I'm in are filled with competitive people.

Speaking of cute Caucasian boys, I was in the library on Monday looking for a book, and eyed this Caucasian guy with those nerd/geek glasses, which made him looks so good, I kept turning back at his table for second glances. So after 5 minutes of dithering, I decided to pluck up courage and sit on the spare seat next to him. My heart was racing like crazy, because no way have I ever done such a thing before, which is so weird, because I asked a boy out once before, yet asking to sit next to a cute guy seems a hundred times more difficult.

Whatever. So I went up to him and said "Hi, can I sit here?"

And he looked up and smiled and said "Sure." So I dumped my books on the table and reached for the chair, but not before he reached for the chair and pulled it out for me.

Isn't that gorgeous?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? I wanted to die right there. No Singaporean man would ever do that. And you know? Becuase Singaporean men have no sense of gentlemanliness. They think pulling chairs out for girls is dorky. Male chivalry in the Singaporean male species is non-existent.

Ugh. I want a Caucasian guy I can be with. One who's good looking and gentlemanly. Am I reaching for the stars here?

Oh God, I'm so stupid, asking a rhetorical question.

Of course I'm reaching for the stars. Ugh. I'm doomed to be a widow. But I'll be contented with a person who'll love me for who I am.

GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD.

Oh and this is friggin awesome. Did I mention how Kyle (in white) is so sexy?