You know I got black eyes, but they burn so brightly

My parents are in the kitchen doing the dishes while talking in Cantonese. It is about me, I know it. Parents are so obvious.

I like work. There's having to wear stockings and borrow people's computer accounts, but also compiling feedback forms from entertaining variety of courses for hotel staff ranging from leadership training to Indian head massage. Everyone's friendly-inclusive and professional without compromising either quality, very hotel-industry but very positive. Spatula and bath towel order discussions over kolopok are common. I like listening.
After waiting for five months, I'm finally in the International Residential College (IRC) - to add to the fun and laughter, the new roommate is from Tex-as.

Because of Mamaleng's reviewing coolness we saw The Road to Guantanamo for free; my brain cells have been smashing into one another because of all that's happened this week, so it was good to go back to filmlove. I was somewhat distracted trying to decide what was real and what was reenacted (who played the US Marine bastards, then? Were those men really so spunky and smartass with their interrogators?) but I liked its simplicity. No emotional trips, just sardonic men looking back, no genius pulpit-speaker among them, just stories.

As with all things, I'll give this time.