The place where Broadway and musicals are located.
The place where I will begin the next chapter of my nomadic life.
The place where I turn into an eccentric academic out of sync with normality.
NEW YORK.
Welcome.
The place where Broadway and musicals are located.
The place where I will begin the next chapter of my nomadic life.
The place where I turn into an eccentric academic out of sync with normality.
New York.
An aspiring hikikomori/ gomiyashiki owner who will get 3 dogs, 1 cat and a herb
garden when she is in her 40s.
Currently a second year Phd student in East Asian Studies, NYU; a self-proclaimed OTAKU; a
clumsy but avid snowboarder; and absent oneechama of Variel.
8 Sept 2010: West Side Story, WICKED
19 Sept 2010: Chicago
8 Oct 2010: Promises Promises
29 Oct 2010: Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake
14 Nov 2010: American Idiot
18 Jan 2011: Billy Elliot
8 Feb 2011: La Cage Aux Folles
6 Mar 2011: Paul Taylor Dance Group
5 Apr 2011: Catch Me If You Can (Broadway preview)
2 Dec 2011: La Boheme
9 Jan 2012: Rent
22 Mar 2012: Phantom of the Opera
23 May 2012: Avenue Q
26 Sep 2012: Newsies
2 Oct 2012: Turandot
4 Oct 2012: Once
15 Oct 2012: Sleep No More
28 Nov 2012: Lion King
7 Feb 2013: Book of Mormons
14 Mar 2013: Jersey Boys
25 Mar 2013: Sleep No More
21 May 2013: Kinky Boots
26 Sep 2013: Big Fish
Thursday, July 29, 2010
3:14 PM
(Irrational) fears
I am extremely afraid of the common house lizard a.k.a Xiao Ming. They are the only living thing that cause me to scream. And I am definitely NOT a screamer. To be honest, I am totally at home with their close friend, Xiao Qiang.
Recently, I find this fear irrational and tiresome. I do not revel in my fear and hate to use it to express the 'I-am-a-weak-female-who-needs-masculine-protection syndrome'. I usually face fear head-on, as in my experience with snowboarding. (FYI, I am of the opinion that it is not irrational to fear non-living things. So there!)
As my fellow nocturnal sojourner, I often had the misfortune to chance upon them quite unexpectedly. You do not know who to pity: The screamer, or the scrambler who politely leaves a memento in the form of a wriggling tail. We usually have a narrow escape from each other.
Sometime this week, at 3am, I was in the toilet sleepily wrapping up my last business of the day. When I stood up, something akin to a piece of wet tissue dropped onto my foot. I looked down and realized that Xiao Ming's youngest son, with his fledging suction pads, fell onto my foot. The untried youth escaped immediately while I was so freaked out that I forgot to scream. I hopped to the sink and proceeded to scrub my skin off my foot.
Living in Singapore, it is difficult to avoid contact with Xiao Ming. I remember visiting Lynn's house for her hubby's homecooked ambrosia and Xiao Ming's severed head stared at her accusingly whenever she opened her rubbish chute. What about Xiao Ming's dried up and flaky corpse stuck in the sky blue wool muffler that I knitted for my trip to Taiwan when I was 15 years old? I remember seeing him swimming in the toilet bowl and I had to run screaming to my mum so that she can persuade him to go for a dive in Singapore's well-maintained sewage system.
I certainly hope that New York, situated in a temperate region, will not have any Xiao Ming. In the meantime, in order to be understood in this new country, I must learn to scream 'Gecko' instead.
