NTU is a joke
So I wound up tagging along to my dad’s tutorials today - one hour slots for three hours straight. Now I know why professors don’t like smaller classes - it gives them more work to do, they have to repeat more things. Even me, who was just sitting there got tired.
Met Hafizah on the last tutorial. She went “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” and we shrieked together for a bit. Also, Mr Shiok Playwright Awesome Alfian Sa’at enrolled for my dad’s class too! I was half tempted to run up and get an autograph.
My daddy teaches awesome, and omg he’s actually genuinely funny in class. Not like his lame “What do you do in Bath? Take a bath hahahaha” jokes. Headed to the campus’s Sakae Sushi to have lunch, then I hung around his office and cleaned his computer out of viruses. The technicians kept saying he needed to reformat his computer to get rid of the viruses, but I just wiped it clean with 4 programs I use regularly on my own computer. Dunno what they’re paying these people for if they haven’t even heard of Ad-Aware.
Ohoh, and the way they name these buildings are so complicated. My dad told me a really hilarious story:
Dad’s colleague: Hey, let’s meet up for lunch. I’ll meet you at your office and we’ll head out.
Dad: Are you sure you don’t want to just meet at the Chinese Cultural Center instead? The names of these buildings are seriously complicated.
DC: Yeah, yeah, sure. I’m really good with directions, I’ll find it.
Dad: Okay, my office is at 3.2B409.
DC: … I’ll meet you at the Chinese Cultural Center.
Anyhoo, fun day. 
Oh hai, still alive
Wow, I’ve neglected writing for more than a month now. I suppose it’s been the lack of any reflection time, and I tell my sister almost everything I’m feeling, which pretty much led to having nothing much to write.
There hasn’t been anything really worth talking about - this blog has always been about myself, and there hasn’t been much reflection these days while staying here. I’ve mostly blown time away playing Warcraft, going out with the family (and a bit with friends) and just relaxing, I suppose.
I went to get my hair cut today, and I guess this is really the reason why I’m writing today. I have trichotillomania, and going to the hairdresser is a gut-wrenching experience. It’s always the same, and the conversation always goes like this:
1. My mom has to explain that I pull my hair so that’s why I have patches on my head,
2. The hairdresser doesn’t listen,
3. She then asks if these patches “occurred naturally or you did something to them” and I have to explain again that I pull my hair.
4. Hairdresser goes into shock, and asks one or more of the following questions: “how long have you done this?”, “doesn’t it hurt?” and the ever encompassing “why?”
5. I say I don’t know why, and hairdresser will launch into a speech on how I should stop pulling and I should find some other form of stress relief.
6. She then proceeds to sell my mother a bunch of expensive hair-care products on how to treat my scalp so the hair grows out faster.
This doesn’t really make me any more endeared to go to the hairdresser. It was only last year that I started going semi-regularly (which is at least once a year, I suppose), and before that my dad has always cut my hair because I was so ashamed to show my patches. I need to have my sister and mom tag along because I feel so insecure by myself there.
I feel increasingly frustrated that because of my shame, I don’t want to specify that I want a fringe, or I’d like it a bit shorter, or whatever. I feel stupid for telling the hairdresser what to do with my hair to make myself look pretty when my patches obviously show that’s never going to happen.
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On a happier note:
Singapore vs China ping pong finals today! SG GO!
Mom’s birthday on the 23rd! SEAFOOD BUFFET HERE I COME
Wall-e on the 28th! YAY!
I’m probably crashing NTU on Friday, to sit in my dad’s tutorials or lectures. CPC, ANY OTHER LECTURES YOU CAN RECOMMEND ME?
