“Your blog for today should begin with “We couldn’t have planned it any better”.” Quoth Douglas. Today (Saturday) has been to epitome of how a great sunny Saturday should be spent. Scratch that. I couldn’t have planned this entire spring break any better.

Saturday, I barged into Douglas’ place and disturbed his sleep. For weeks I’ve been hearing about the process of installing the custom made sound system for his 911 Carrera (“It looks like a suppository.” That’s how he first described his car and that anal association has stuck with me ever since), which he collected on Friday night, having called me and orgasmically yelling (and I do paraphrase), “OH MY GOD! THIS IS FREAKING AWESOME YA GOTTA LISTEN TO THIS!!”

And Jeeeeeesus Christ…that system is beyond-words awesome. I usually wouldn’t share with equal excitement derived from ‘boys and their toys’ but this one I got as overgrown-kid-squeals-and-giggles excited about the sound, the bass, the songs as Doug did. It is truly awesome beyond description. You usually hear these cars (usually with blackened windows) blasting annoying hip-hop music with a bass so heavy the sound gets muffled and the car starts to rattle. That sucks. This is different. I’ve never heard such a pure, rich, clear sound with such a heavy bass. AND, as Douglas promised, you’d never hear any negative crappy rap music blaring from this baby. We put on dB’s The Secret Art of Science, the cd I’ve been listening to every night. You have no idea how fuckin’ awesome it feels being driven around San Francisco, on a uncharacteristically hot Saturday afternoon, with the car top down, listening to a cd you know and love every second of, with a sheer quality high fidelity system and a driving bass that rocks your entire body. I could go on. (I was about to write down the technical specs (number of watts, yadda yadda) of the system I’ve been hearing about all day but it’d probably end up inaccurate because I was just enjoying the sound. I do remember something like 1100 Watts. But that’s all. You are more than welcome to add a footnote in the comments box for that, Douglas. Do your baby some justice.)

The day in running commentary: We managed to get to the post-office on time right before it closed to pick up some certified mail without any usual government agency waits/bumps, went back to grab me a t-shirt (we put me in Doug’s Texas A&M University t-shirt but the irony of a Singaporean Chinese girl in a Texas A&M t-shirt that we thought was obvious was disappointingly unnoticed by everyone that day. Ah well.) and some drinks and food, set off the alarm of a car we drove past from the sheer power of the bass (I’m not kidding), bought some fruits and sodas from Safeway (we stole a plum because we ate it before we got to the checkout counter. I figure we spend so much money at Safeway anyway, the theft was somehow justified), headed down to Nob Hill, almost immediately found a perfect parking spot right beneath the Coit Tower (it is an “issue” to have gotten that parking spot so quickly in Nob Hill apparently. I do not doubt that.), hammocked and sat under the sun with Douglas and his friends at a rooftop with a god-awesome view of SF and the Golden Gate Bridge (pictures were taken), went down to play with the now famed sound system with a bigger audience this time, walked into a shop (where Joe bought a plant, Douglas wanted to buy a freaky framed bat, and I told the old lady in the store, after she commented on how her cat seeks attention, that her pussy likes to be rubbed), grabbed more food to bring to a BBQ party at Fort Mason which kinda reminded me of a frat house for post-college dudes still unwilling to let go of their college life (one of whom makes disparaging comments about hot bodies) which had a cool huge trampoline at the front, lay in the grass where I learnt the proper use of the word “phat”. As we drove back in the sunset (cheesy, but really it was dusk), we listened to more of dB’s cd, with both of us just smiling and nodding to the music, drinking in the feeling of a perfect seamless day where everything just fell right in place.

I bitched about being able to not travel somewhere this spring break because of the Big Move. I’ve always felt obliged somehow to go somewhere whenever I had a vacation, or I’d be wasting my youth and/or college life when I’m supposed to travel and see as much as possible. I went to NYC in my first winter break and Paris in my second. But goddamn, I am having a blast just staying put in Berkeley/San Francisco in my third.

Rewinding a little, I did my usual swim on Thursday afternoon and made sure I did my duty in bringing the requested sourdough baguette to Patrick’s dinner party where he made us a wonderful scrumptious dinner. The night ended with an episode of Seinfeld on tv where “Singapore” was mentioned. Patrick cheered “Yay, Singapore!” and I thumped my fist on my chest, made a peace sign and said “Represent!”. Weird how any mention of Singapore provokes a reaction in me when I hang out with my American friends. (Jimmie has used it wisely. He saw me in the beverage aisle at Safeway one day. Went up behind me without me noticing him, cleared his throat and said loudly to his sister “Gee, I wonder where all the Singaporean drinks are.” My head whipped around instantly.). In the Seinfeld dialogue, some dude says “…unfortunately, the guy retired and moved to Singapore…if you really want, maybe I can contact the guy in Singapore and have him make a photostat of the receipt and send it over.” Now the funny thing about this is that I’ve never heard the word “photostat” being used in America. They always say “photocopy”, so I had assumed that it was just a Singaporean thing to say “photostat”. Go figure why my brain picked up on that stupid detail.

On Friday night, Patrick and I headed down to The Canvas Gallery. The café I’ve always gone to spend the day reading and studying has transformed itself into a very San Franciscan café-slash-bar-slash-art gallery on weekend nights. I have written about the loss of anonymity in San Francisco as I spent more time in the city and meeting new people. Never have I felt it more. Knowing people knowing other people…you find yourself interlaced into this matrix of connections. We spent the night looking at art and hob-nobbing with the “very San Franciscan crowd”. I was initially uncomfortable with the scene, which is basically what I’ve mentioned: hob-nobbers at a café-slash-bar-slash-art gallery. But the core company we sat with was thankfully lovely, warm and nice. Also, I soon fell into my comfy state of amusing myself as an observer instead, my favorite observee of the night being Mr Owen Wilson lookalike who amused me with (a) his extreme perkiness (I’ve never seen anyone describe a park with such zest and vigor. “The TREES…you know…the TREES!” Ya had to be there…we suspected he was probably on some upper.) (b) his dressing/acting completely gay only to find out from his gay friend that we knew was gay that he wasn’t playing on that side of the fence, which floored us because that meant our radar was wayyyy off. Patrick refused to concede to radar failure and insisted that he was “at least” bi. We had a late dinner at Ebisu which had the most exuberant chefs at the sushi bar I’ve ever seen, who judging from the enthusiastic conversations initiated by middle-age ladies, have won themselves a few admirers.

I am beginning to watch San Francisco with a local eye, perhaps in the way I observe Singapore. Now, I still very much possess the easily excitable idealism of a visitor. But when I see 20 people in leotards bending in weird positions and a male instructor standing on a mini-platform in the tightest speedo shorts and a microphone round his ear inside a very publicly situated studio, bright lights, clear glass with the words “Bikram Yoga” in rainbow colors and cartoon fonts scrawled on it, as I did as I walked to 111 Minna on Wed night, I can’t help but laugh hysterically and roll my eyes with the weariness of a local and laugh heartily at how it has become a parody in itself.
Beneath the scoffing and self-deprecation at their granola-yoga-soy filled city however, there is still the astounding sense of goddamn-we-are-lucky-to-be-living-here pride from every San Franciscan I’ve met. They know it, they love it and unabashedly live it up. For all the criticisms I’ve had of the nebulous liberalism and superficial hob-nobbing and materialism of this place, goddamn I love it here.

So glad I stayed (for spring break). So glad I came (2 ½ years ago). Wish I could stay (longer).

It’s gonna be hard to leave.

Qool Wednesday was slammingly good as expected. I got to meet Spesh! Patrick introduced us as he was walking about unassumingly before his set with that characteristic cute mop of bleach-blond hair. For a guy with such an (expanding) cult following in SF, he’s got such a humble and sweet demeanor. So nice to give him a handshake and thank him for his music. The crowd was lapping up everything he gave out. Wonderful.

Sun’s out…again. Goddamn this unearthly beautiful Cali weather. Now I have to go out swimming, darn it! Thou shalt not wear stupid too-big one piece swimsuit that left 2 sores at my sides. Helloooo itsy bitsy teeny weeny (blue and orange) polka dot bikini…

Maybe I should study some before Patrick’s dinner party tonight. My blog has of late been too concentrated with the insipid ons and abouts of moving out/in and inane talk of fun splish-splashes and very fun clubbing. It’s due for an injection of the token college angst, intellectual mind-fucks and irreverent insights on war policies. But ahhhhh fuck that. l’ll leave that for post-spring break re-obsession of Tolstoy, The Economist and The Wealth of Nations. For now, I wanna enjoy my last month as a 21 year-old and have "blub blub fun", as Jane says, swimming in spring break frivolity.

After being used to swimming in my string two-piece, I felt like I was swimming with a bloody sack in my old one-piece swimsuit today. The amount of material weighing me down was about 5 times more than my bikini. It looked like it was cold and cloudy, but the sun came shining happily out, so I now have ugly thick tan-line straps. What a bitch.

But I did 60 laps today in a personal (I’m the world’s slowest swimmer) best of 45 minutes. Hurrah!

Strutting around butt-naked in the gym locker room with other butt naked females has been great for my (harshly self-depracating) body image. One realizes that a lot of people do look quite hideous butt-naked. So in an evil Hobbesian way, I feel better about my flaws knowing that other people have it worse. I am not a nice person.

Boy, I certainly am obsessed with my own space. I’m loving my new room so freakin’ much. It’s almost twice as big (maybe even bigger) than my previous room and to have that luxurious amount of space to work with and make your own is just heavenly. Boxes and stuff are still strewn about waiting to be placed but Kelly’s Realm is starting to shape up. The essentials are up: my laptop with the internet connection, my kickin’ Altec Lansing speakers, my cd-player, my lava lamp and my beautifully comfortable bed. My room is divided into 2 mini-realms: the private space in the far end, where my bed and work desk are, and the welcoming public space near the entrance where the couch is. =D

My spring break is going on wonderfully. Drove down to Menlo Park to visit my brother today. I love hanging out with my brother…because I don’t live with him. Heh. We spent the day slouching around, watching/listening to Mitch Hedberg online and watching tv. I finally watched ‘Chicken Rice Wars’ . I would not have noticed my supposed resemblance to Lum May Yee’s character had my brother not vehemently insisted on it. I agree to the small eyes, big ears, weird slouchy posture, skinny arms, flat chest and perpetually-pissed off look. All of which doesn’t bode well for me. Ah well. But I actually thought that the film was not bad for a Singaporean movie. It did not make me cringe as much as I was prepared for (bad acting, fake accents). I loved listening to the authentically Singaporean Singlish and Cantonese that only Singaporeans would completely understand without the subtitles. There’s something about having a national language so grammatically fucked up that no one else can comprehend you…it’s like having your own code that Singaporeans and only Singaporeans can identify with. Given that we are pretty much ahistorical and apolitical, that is quite a useful bond. Loved looking at the hawker center scenes. It did a great job in representing Singapore as it is.

We had dinner at Sushi Maru down in Sunnyvale. The salmon sashimi was the richest and most melt-in-your-mouth I’ve ever tasted. My brother always knows the best places to go for food. Which is useful for me to know since I hardly ever bother/like to eat out.

All in all a satisfying day that will end with me curled up in bed and looking forward to tomorrow: gym workout, an hour of laps in the pool (have not swam in many days and I misssss my Splish Splash), read abit of Tolstoy or Woolf (have not sat down with a novel for many days and I missssss my books), hit 111 Minna for Qool Wednesdays in the evening where Spesh will indeed be spinning! Oooooooooooo boy-oh-boy-oh-boy…*monkey grin*

Speaking of monkeys…I was informed by good ol’ KO that monkeyradio is BAAAACK!!!!!!! Whoohoo!!!!! The best streaming chill trip-hoppy kinda music, for your chilling, reading, studying, pre-sleeping needs…the alternative to friskyradio, which is more for your pre-club-hyping thumping techno mode.

Oh the life of decadent, narcissistic, selfish, and easily attainable self-pleasure! I shall assume that I will possess this supposedly empty pursuit of self-happiness only when I’m young and will evolved into a mature woman with responsibilities other than myself in the future. For now, I will excuse my self-indulgence with I-am-only-young-once. For it is only now that I do not have to worry about shit like fighting jadedness, wrinkles, sagging breasts, cellulite, grey hairs, the lack of marriagable men, and the dilemma of bearing children. That will come later. So why waste now?

I was completely nuts. After a total of 7 hours of sleep for 2 nights, Satuday moving, Sunday cleaning up everything the whole freaking day and coming back to the new place to set everything up, I was moaning with fatigue as I left for 1015 at 11pm.

But dammit! It was completely worth the effort! Paul Van Dyk rocked the place. I was grinning like a monkey as I walked into the main room where he’d already started spinning. The room was thumpin’, flashy lights were flashin’, everyone was groovin’. More genuine techno freaks into the music and dance than pick-uppers, which made for a grrreat vibe. Did not leave nor stop moving till the lights came on at almost 5am, which was kinda early for 1015. They usually have another DJ that comes after the headliner that spins till 7-ish. I left feeling like I still wanted more.

It’s one of those weekends where in 20 years, as my body starts breaking down on me and I can barely keep awake after 11pm, mellow me will look back with a sigh and a shake of my head…ahhh those were the days where I had the energy to do anything. Till then, I’m gonna make sure I do everything.

Monday was spent in perfect post-clubbing fashion: a wonderful do-nothing day lolling under the sun with Patrick at Dolores Park. What a fabulous start to Spring Break.

I’m done! And now the final disconnection of my laptop from the internet connection and I’m outta here!

This is scary. Kellog has had 6 separate hits from the google search "queen latifah’s boobs" in the past 2 days. They really must have made a big impression.

It’s Big Moving Day. I’ve never been this tired. I’m sitting in my dirty empty old room now. Too tired to return to the new place. I’m just gonna lay a bedsheet on the ground and concuss.

Packing, moving, cleaning, overwhelming.

Amidst the self-pity, my mirror broke in the Uhaul truck today. 7 years of bad luck, onward ho!

Having an obsession-of-the-moment always makes my life that much funner. Whether it’s Tolstoy, Tiesto, Dave Eggers or the dB’s…

I hereby declare Looq to be Kelly’s official obession-of-the-moment.

I downloaded all the mp3s available on that site (being the greedy inhaler of all that’s my obsession, hence the term ‘obsession’) and was blasting "We Are Connected" in my half-ass attempt to start packing for Big Moving Day this Saturday. And boy did that make a mundane task fun! I had a mini club in my room, periodically bouncing unconsciously to the music while deciding which clothes to toss out or keep. I’m gonna buy that cd.

And yay! Spesh will be spinning next Wednesday. I wasn’t intending to go anywhere for my spring break cos I’d be busy moving out and settling down. Then I thought I’d head down to LA for a bit. Now…I’m thinking have my li’ll ‘girl-gone-wild’ moments here in the city, with PvD on Sunday (with Jerry freakin’ Bonham!! the last guy that spun at 111 Minna on Wednesday, who I thought was just fab…geez, can it get any better?), Qool on Wednesday, and 1015/DNA Lounge are bound to have something good going on on Friday and Sat. In between that, nice splish-splashes in the Sun, cosy cafe reading with ‘Mrs Dalloway’ and ‘Middlemarch’, rearranging my new room for maximum utility, and I think I’m going to replace that lamp shade hanging in the middle of the room with a red bulb and red shade, so my room will glow in red along with my red lava lamp every night.

That sounds like a lovely spring break, no?

‘Copenhagen Express’ comes on, thumps on…sun’s shining…one hour of class before going swimming before returning to more music and more shitloads of packing before spring break begins…=D

Click here to view pictures and prices

I have a Uhaul truck 10am-4pm this Sat (Mar 22nd), so if you live anywhere in El Cerrito or Berkeley, I can home deliver it to ya. You’ll just have to kiss my feet and proclaim me your queen for eternity.