Please also note that the link in the tiny picture below to my photo.html file is no longer broken!!! I have worked all night to get some (but not all) photos in their respective viewing windows.

Ahhh. All that for fighting NOT to do homework. I was also going to go to the gym as I told Ewa last night when we dropped her and Mark off...but when I woke up this morning, I simply was TOO SORE. Dude. Last night, Mark, Ewa, Elliot, Christina and I attended Christina's church gym night. It was a fun-filled two hours of hockey, dodgeball, basketball, and soccer. I was not tired by the end of last night, but I was definately feeling the pain today. Oh my LORD. It brought back memories of high school PE...and I played slightly the same, not for marks, but for fitness this time. I am a physical hockey player and I enjoyed that VERY much. I like to hip check and I actually dove for the hockey "puck" several times.

It surprised Ewa. It surprised me even more.

It was intimidating to be placed on an opposing team versus Mark AND Ewa. They are both serious hockey and soccer fanatics, in addition to being great athletes. Oy! But it was fun.

Yesterday was also the day where I got to sit in Process Systems and listen to my program head / instructor say "Mother Licquor" about 9 times. I don't know why that's amusing.. but I guess it has to do with the old schoolyard joke of "rubber balls and licquor". ahahhaa.

Lo Bak Gou. 2nd attempt. I don't think I shared with you my first attempt. It was at Mark's house, where I mixed up the starches, sauteed the green onion, sausage, mushroom and dried shrimp...when I was done steaming, I had this gluey, plastic-y CLAY. Then I remembered that It was not GLUTINOUS RICE flour that I wanted, but RICE flour. I almost hit the roof when I found that I had used GR flour. Shit!!! How could it have not dawned on me... but I had been trying to look at the chinese characters. That's why. :(

So. Today. I used tapioca starch and rice flour. Same method...the result was a dense, radish cake tasting product. But it was STILL too dense. I'll try again tomorrow with less starch, more flavourings, and more radish. Shit man....when my great aunt 7 had told me it would be hard, I hadn't figured that it'd be more than TWICE that I'd have to try it. sheesh.

Tomorrow is sunday. Apparently my brother is getting baptised tomorrow afternoon. I don't know how I feel about that...except that religious people in general have me all up in arms. I strongly dislike people who hide behind a facade of other's beliefs. They are weak... can they not see? I know "religious" people who are in EVERY WAY so hypocritical of their very beliefs, almost blatantly at that. It really saddens me to see a society this way.

That's all I'll say about that.

There was a thread at RBJ in the parenting community...a poll about what implements your parents used to hit you when you were a child. It touched a very sensitive nerve for some, while some claimed to be martyrs or manipulative of their parent's kindness..

My brother was not, and is still not a "model" child. He was in trouble in school, he did not get "ideal" grades, he talked back, he made too much noice, he bothered me, he bothered my parents....and so he got hit with the plastic race tracks of his own toy cars. Also hit with chopsticks, kitchen utensils, and bamboo feather dusters. ...Plastic dusters too, for that matter.

Myself? I consider myself lucky for having only been hit a handful of times by my parents. I think I was hit more by my brother than my parents when my parents were out. I don't think the punishments dealt by my parents or brother were scarring for either of us... for me, a handful of times was enough for me to learn my lesson. I think was a relatively good child.

But I do remember being hit on the hands by my preschool teacher when I didn't get a "letter bingo" game right..with a wooden ruler. It stung.. I guess it stayed in my mind since it shocked me, and even at that early age of 4, I remember thinking how unfair it was for her to be hitting us for not getting a letter right (she delivered however many slaps with the ruler for as many letters you missed). I remember some kids got four or five letters wrong...and me, with my one mistake. I almost felt lucky that it was one wrong, because the other children were crying and wailing.

The other memory that stands out in my mind is of my brother slapping me on the hands with a long piece of flat plastic for not doing my homework. . . .plastic was the worst. The impact, and the vibration of the plastic....it was not merely one hit, but several because the plastic would bounce back and hit you again.

Anyways. 1:44 now. I suppose I should be off to sleep. Sleep or homework? Sleep. nite.