pompous cat.

2007-10-19T01:43:00.000+08:00

So.

i'm back. ha ha.

it's been some time. anyway theres hardly time to sleep, literally, much less blog, so we'll see how this goes. ha.

anyway. i'd like to whine. can guys not hit on me. if you're a jerk, great, i can tell you to piss off. but if you're nice, omgosh, i don't know what to do.

it's getting worse and worse because everytime i'll just think of my brother and think how awful it'd be if a girl does what i do to him!

e.g. i feel horrid when my brother likes XYZ and he doesn't get the girl, and i think how stupid the girl is cuz my brother is such a good catch. and when they are mean to him i see red.

hence. i try to be nice to guys who ____ (whatever, i don't have a word) me. er. means i'm civil, friendly, etc.

problem: they might think i'm leading them on. etc. etc.

gahhh. stupid. last time i always wonder why i don't have 1000000 guys hitting on me. ha ha. now i wish i can just be myself freely without such complications.

haiya. but i think they also know how to cope with me this type of girls. maybe they'll get the hint that i'm Just Friendly and not think too much.

anyway. :S

2007-08-25T12:01:00.000+08:00

i need some company because i have to stop moping.

gave up the crowd in the cinema, and look where that got me.

love makes us foolish, to the point of sacrificial stupidity.

temptations are not only temptations of a better One;

they come in forms of opportunities, temptations of fun.

why was i so careful, so preserving and guarded

so stupidly anticipating his eventual arrival

and look where that got me, look where that got me.

2007-08-24T00:53:00.000+08:00

Is harmony at home that fucking important
More important than morals
Than basic decency
Than basic fucking respect
That you cut off your tongue
Forgo your right to speak
Pander to silence
And tremble at the thought of
. damn, incurring his wrath

Has he any right to wrath

(Have I?)

But more irksome is how you
Express such strong dissent
And yet
.

What sort of relationship is it when
One is afraid, abhors, telling the other
The glaring problems he/she has with him/her?

[Oh, hold that. Maybe I know just how that fucking feels.
Fucking DejaVu.
Return of the haunting ghosts.]

Or perhaps, sadder, the attitude is
Why tell, when the other is unteachable?
Futile, and achieving a grand volatile slambangwalkout;
Why tell, indeed. Why tell.

Why should I be included in this abhorrent cycle?
This dishonest conspiracy?
[the curse of the ridiculous, Educated, Empowered Female.]

And the case for filial piety.
Asian Values. [yes, we know that is inherently flawed.
but can you change how deeply entrenched it is?]

Stupid, ridculous state of affairs.
I'd rather be empowered and walk
Than stay and be submissive.

[yes, yes. completely unfilial. completely bought over the stuff from the other end of the map.

But maybe people have been misguided all along.]

Scared of fucking everything.
Am I just young and stupid, uncaring,
Unaware of why I SHOULD BE SCARED OF EVERYTHING;
Or, is that just wrong for every age?

The question is, is it that I am not acculturated

Acculturated into What?

Should I BE?

Everyone just keeps fucking quiet;
Is silence the fucking way to go?

2007-08-12T21:42:00.000+08:00

I Am So ANGRY!

Went to develop some pictures for a mini competition. It took two--to be exact three--trips to make 21 5R prints.

At $1.50-2 each, you'd expect better quality. Instead, when I went to collect them eagerly today, they were full of a photographer's nightmare--FINGERPRINTS!!!!!!!!! ON GLOSSY PAPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AGAINST BLACK BACKGROUNDDDD!!!!!!!!!

OMG.

I found out the cause of these awful, GHASTLY things OhMyGodFingerprints when I was waiting for more photos to be developed** (**another digression later). When the photos were fresh from the machine, Read: FRESH!!, the shop assistant (not the lady who was developing) took the prints and proceeded to crop the excess white border away.

Do you know how she handled the prints?!?!?! The FRESHHHHH prints?!?!?!?!

She took the pictures roughly, piak-ed them on the table, PLASTERED HER HANDS ALL OVER THEM as THOUGH they were just paper!!!!! Hello?? Glossy paper??? Fresssh prints??? Completely vulnerable to GREASY FINGERS?? OMGOMGOMGGGGGGGGG.

I recoiled from the pit of my stomach. When she pressed down on the photos I almost fainted. I mean, SERIOUSLY?!?

An irrepressible squeal of horror escaped me, and she went, "What, what?"

I helplessly looked at her pressing fingers and squeaked, "Your Fingerprintsssss!" while my hands clenched into claws that were itching, ITCHING to PEEL her hands away from my precious, FRESH photos oh God :(

And she still went, "Where got? No lah, I press very lightly only."

WHERE GOT!?!?!?!?!? PRESS VERY LIGHTLY???

Hello, you shouldn't even be PRESSING ON THEM!

AND, guess what she was doing BEFORE handling the photos???

EATING MALTESE CHOCOLATEBALLS WITH HER HANDS.

I really, REALLY, REALLLLLY wanted to demand REPRINTSSSSS.

The only reason why I didn't blow up and screamed my head off was because I thought, stupidly, that I can come back quickly and salvage the ghastly damage. I thought, very stupidly, that a good polishing cloth will wipe away the ghastly damage and none will be the wiser about it.

I was wrong.

I am STILL staring at the prints and recoiling from the HORRID, HORRID fingerprintsssssss GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SO ANGRY!!!!!! And at a disgusting premium of $2 PER PIECE!

HOW CAN THEY HIRE THESE PhotoIDIOTS! Or why couldn't the more enlightened ones make these idiots wear GLOVES when handling glossy prints!

As a sidenote they also screwed up one print and I couldn't go back because they've already shut down the machine. So I have to make another trip down to collect the replacement print. Actually that's still okay and not a major problem, but the WAY these people handled the prints, or rather, just that girl, is just absolutely grotesque.

Grrrrrrrr. Absolutely grotesque! GRRRRR!

2007-07-31T23:02:00.000+08:00

[emotional Update]

This exchange thing is tough, every way you look at it. Everything is crappy and everything seems hopeless and sad and everything, this entry, and the previous one, is beginning to reek of pms.

How does my sister do it.

I can't believe I have no one to talk to.

Grah. Going to sleep. Got a ridiculously long day tomorrow. Thanks to myself.

I hate feeling so unhappy.

2007-07-31T21:57:00.000+08:00

I tend to go to the backrooms where old, old stuff are kept. Maybe even forgotten. Or dismissed as irrelevant by the owners.

Maybe they are irrelevant. But I'm not going to be self-reflesive about it today. Flipping through old photo albums. Rummaging folder after folder, watching endless slideshows. Something he never understood. To be honest, I don't really understand it either.

Yesterday, I opened the door and couldn't stop. Before I knew it, I was almost halfway into the musty room. I only stopped because I had to eat.

Today, I decided to run all the way to the far end. I started with the first--thought it'd be interesting to see the.. changes. If any. Ha. Ok, stop. I won't go there.

Today, I stopped because I've made... a few startling discoveries.

For one, I was surprised to find my own name peppered randomly. It was a little cringing to go through. What he probably didn't know then was that I was there all along, all the time, even in my silence.

And then, I cringed at my ignorance. Perhaps even pretentiousness. Ha, ha. Fancy that. But maybe that's not the right word. What struck me was how most of it were full of stupid wordplay. It was cringingly childish.

At this distance, now, I could see the tiny specks of optimism struggling to burst into flames. I am startled to discover a person who believed in beauty. Or rather, believes.

[[Wasn't it just a moment before when I asked for God to show him beauty and open his heart to joy? Maybe that discovery was God's assurance for me, then.]]

After only just a month, I started to wonder just how much (or little, as the case may be) I really know this person.

To be accurate, this 'wondering' was a loud blaring that shouted and wouldn't go away. It made me kind of sad.

It was startling to read familiar phrases, too.

I found that 'Merry May' existed long before the folder was transferred to my desktop.

It was all a little too much. I left, thinking how I should be more responsible with what's been left for... ha, "ravens to pick at".

You know, 'responsible' like... I should be trusted not to delve, dig, revive, pick at, etc, that which has been left accessible.

I'm tired. And I'm feeling, maybe, a little sad. Though maybe I have no right to be.

2007-07-25T18:31:00.000+08:00

God, I am so sick. My nose ran like a tap yesterday and today it's been stuffed to the brim all day. Having woozy vision and feverish head. Throat's completely inflammed and my whole body is like jell-O, having been pumped with so much medicine.

I'm supposed to have quite an important day today--meeting and ahem, 'bonding' with people I have to work with for a year. That also translates to stupid activities and loads of running around.

Two hours from the activity I decided I really need an MC.

My first MC. God! I've been fretting and fretting about that stupid paper and its effect on my pay and future promotions. You know what they say: When everything's been compared, it's down to stupid stuff like the number of MCs you took.

But I really couldn't have dragged myself to the end of Singapore and done all the rah-rah stuff.

At some point I was reminded that God is greater than MCs affecting anything, so I felt much more encouraged and at peace.

Being sick also reminded me of how he was so sick once, he was confined to his bed and had no energy to do anything. He slept with the fan off and it was stifling hot. But I stayed by his side and tried to make him more comfortable. And he was SO sick. Poor thing.

Sobs. I really miss him now. Wish he were here. :(

2007-07-22T18:36:00.000+08:00

I'm in a very bad mood.

What's the point of being so vulnerable.

2007-07-19T20:45:00.000+08:00

Eve of last day today! It's quite hard to blog now about specifics. Feels like I'm in some Intelligence service. Grrr. All I know is, since joining this profession, I'm guarding my private life more and More and MORE. It's not an easy line to draw and I'm still trying to find the balance spot.

Sometimes I look at them and forget I have loved ones around me who are just like them. It is difficult to imagine them being anything I remotely understand.

And yet, I do. They are just little people who think (really) they can conquer the world. I need to get away from thinking they are gremlins out to make my life hell. I tiptoe into warzone picking my way around eggshells, afraid of those gnashing chicks.

Though at times I marvel at the power of one lifted brow. Or a steely stare. Haha.

How did I end up on the other side of the table so fast? It felt like someone tipped the board and I just sort of, tumbled over.

Must congratulate myself though, hurhur, for sticking with my three-inchies everyday. Woohoo. Watch out, gremlins! Step on my tail and I will squelch you! Muahaha.

2007-07-17T13:05:00.000+08:00

Was too depressed with the previous layout. Too morbid and a little too dark. The dull red and black was blocking my ability to write. Couldn't find the cheery daisy one, so this will have to do temporarily.

(Plus it's for someone special far far away. :D )

The hag is at it again. If it is unbearable for me, how tolerable can it be for the subject of her torrents?

2007-07-10T12:09:00.000+08:00

Day One of Six Long Months.

I hope he gets his internet soon. :(

2007-06-16T02:56:00.000+08:00

It's been a pretty long time since I blogged at such unearthly hours.

I'm feeling really pensive today. More precisely, I'm feeling really pensive right now.

It's been bugging me a long time that I'm thinking aloud less and less on this blog. It used to be a sort of sounding-board for my sob-till-you-drop times--but I cannot bring myself to do it now.

It bugs me because I'm a person who needs to think aloud, write things down, ramble on, before I arrive at any semblance of revelation or conclusion. Hence this 'new' hesitation to barf cryptically is eating me alive.

I've tried to do it on a private blog--but that's completely busted. I need an audience--doesn't matter if they actually don't exist. I can't do the soundboard thing in a private blog because I can't talk to myself.

Truth be told even writing this post is posing loads of problems for me.

I know I hardly update--but that's because there are so many things that seem 'taboo' to publish here. I don't like it. But it bugs me more to not know if this is right or wrong.

Maybe I should just lock this up and give the password out selectively. But that is still not very appealing because as much as I need to know I have an audience, I don't really want to know who you are. Makes it a little worse if we're not super close and if we're super close. Best if it's a know-but-don't-REALLY-know kind of audience.

It's a little like I put the comments link here, but I don't really want to see or read the comments, and yet I'll be a little disappointed if there are no comments.

You know it's beginning to sound like some twisted form of escapism. Hur hur.

Aiya, anyway. Grr. Irritating.

Will blog other random mundane updates tomorrow or something. Haha.

2007-05-22T21:18:00.000+08:00

Michelle Ho complained I never update. wah lau what's there to update. haha.

since school's officially and completely OUT (for a long time wahahahhahahaha) there is no more pensive juice in me and therefore no more pretentious brooding posts that showoffs my writing skills. wahahhaha.

why can't i write interesting unbimbotic stuff like my sister, grr.

anyway the previous previous sentence is incomplete. hur. since i don't have sappy stuff to write, i shall update on what i've been doing. MUNDANE! ha.

various things lah. went malaysia with boyfriend (yay!) and a bunch of friends. ~~some~~ one of them is hilarious.

been playing lots of games. also done lots of shopping. ok lah not really lots-LOTS but quite ok.

also celebrated my birthday. this year got TWO surprises leh! wahhahaa. (last time i had to plan my own surprise. sobs.) i've come to realize QQ is quite adept at planning surprises while pretending there is no surprises. also he can go on with the planning IN THE MIDST OF OUR bickering sessions! power. i don't know how he can do that. i can only say it's LURRRRVVVE baby wahhahahahaha.

second surprise is really quite surprising because i didn't expect my nu ers to remember my birthday. haha. really so sweet of them and Michelle Ho even managed to sound bored and blah on the phone when really, she was panicking up and down inside out. am i blur or are they good? hur hur. they got me a dress and a GOLD BAG omg--how bling. I VERY BLING MEH hurrrrr gosh. but hugs hugs for the present and the surprise! :D

we then went shopping and our favourite thingtodo is to go expensive shops and act tai-tai. (read: try various clothes and shoes.) we are not cheapo--we are sussing out the high-end market and see how it differs from us mortally markets. :D IMHO there is not that much difference. at least there is not ENOUGH difference to justify the difference in price tags.

for example, how can you justify a x3 price just because the sewing is a tiny bit finer? fabric wise, it's about the same. it's not as though you buy the x3 price item means it'll last for 100 years of washing. if it does it's probably because you take extra care during washing, as opposed to just dumping it in the machine and letting it rip.

ok anyway. i think even if i'm loaded i also won't just toss designer names around like salt. like, oh i get my basic go-market-buy-fish-clothes from ted bakers and occasionally gap, and i get my workwear from gucci or prada.

hur hur. i think if i'm loaded i'll engage professional help to stay in superb sculpted shape so pasar malam 3 for 10 clothes will look just as fabulous on me. whahahahaha. :D:D:D

aiyo what a random rant. hahaha. yay embrace slacking!! :D:D

2007-05-03T23:18:00.000+08:00

GRADUATE, loh! wahahhahahahahhahaha. End Of E X A M S !!!

2007-05-02T15:29:00.000+08:00

there is a way we run from the little voice in us, praying against hope and evidence that the little voice is not right.

some call the little voice 'conscience'--but it's more than that. it doesn't just tell you the right and the wrong; it tells you premonitions, it whispers truth, sometimes it prompts, sometimes it makes you shiver with fear.

often i have wondered if it is the 'holy spirit' the bible talks about? or maybe the devil's gremlin?

my grandpa is hospitalized again.

this time his state of mind sounds unstable. 'old age = second childhood' never hit more clearly home.

in thought and writing, second childhood in old age sounds benign enough; perhaps even quite cosy. one imagines a nice, old grandmama knitting and making simple, childish demands, robbed of old cynicism and snide comments, naggings, etc.

in truth, it is scary and disorienting. one forgets how regressing applies to the mind as well. a child's mind is incapable of making quick connections, needs repetition, assurance, unconditional love. when these come in a cute bundle of joy that gurgles, it is given easily enough. but how do you reconcile this with the wise person who just days before, months before, in all the years of you growing up, guided you, gave you pearls of wisdom, was impatient with the deviant young?

of course, my grandpa is not so far gone. and it could be a case of this being my virgin experience with old age and hospitalization, and therefore a case of unwarranted alarm and over-reaction; or it could be a genuine case of something else is really wrong.

i could pray, but how do i know if it's God or just my own voice i'm hearing?

i am also scared. of what is happening. of what might happen. of interpreting promptings. of over-reacting. of the little voice.

i am coming to realize that i am more scared of my loved ones dying than being on the deathbed myself.

how do you stay strong and not cry?

how do you give strength to the sick?

2007-04-26T13:27:00.000+08:00

days drag on, trudge with their heads hanging. days seem endless when all you do is sleep and wake, chokeful of white porridge and white pills.

so the fever has come and gone, but not really, since it has degenerated into a painful ear infection, numbing the area, like a dying ghost who refuse to let go, clutching and clinging for dear life, clawing its way through the veins, eyes bulging PLEASE! LOOK AT ME!.

Degenerating into this form, I wish it will just go away. Above the inconveniences and pain is the deeper fear of being marred, dragged down, and going deaf.

The call to chop it all is mine, after all. Cut it off, once and for all. This tip-toeing around meagre strands of communication is ridiculous--and to be very honest, getting downright bloody irritating. What's all the hemming and hawing about doing it PC-style?

But am I making excuses, taking the easy way out?

And worse is that he can't be here, kidnapped by three exams. The asking ransom is 24 hours, paved with ceaseless notes, sheets after sheets after slides after slides.

Dear, dear, these two? three? days have been unbelievably loooooooooong.

i wish i had the strength to study more. and there goes the hope of presenting a big, fat--and very grand--birthday present.

2007-04-24T12:19:00.000+08:00

Because I seldom fall sick, every time I do it's like a major catastrophe. I'm emotionally super fragile, highly prone to crying. Anything that tips the scale depresses me. It's like PMS x 10 intensity - the irritable moodswings (requires too much energy). Most of the time I'm a sodden, moping mess. It is a time of much cajoling and Very Tender Loving Care + patience many many.

[digression: momma does this best, best, best! she will come and sayang me as though i'm really very, very ke lian with hugs and gentle scoldings. sniffles.]

For the initiated (read: sister and momma, maybe brother and papa), this is quite humdrum monotony. For the not-so-initiated (yet--hur hur), like the boyfriend, reaction ranges from complete bafflement to extreme annoyance + impatience.

Fortunately, he's also (sensible? sensitive? intelligent? logical?! er, whats the word.) enough to attribute the bad behaviour to my short-circuited brain. Er. :( sorrrrrrry [insert private endearment]. I guess my behaviour last night was quite horrid. Er. :( sniffles.

I wish I were more of a nice, pleasant, agreeable patient; unfortunately I don't really feel apologetic about being demanding when I'm sick, so . (oh horror, I realize this sounds like some of my grandpa's demanding streak! eek!)

MOVING ON.................... I like his (TLC) attention when I'm sick cuz there's just something intimate in tending to your sick someone special. (ignore the cheesiness.) :D

[endnote: still quite very sick. speech degenerating into croaks soon. plus watery eyes and woozy brain still going strong. stuffed nose. croak-groan. grr.]

2007-04-15T16:27:00.000+08:00

noisy, pesky, restless kids--screaming, running, laughing. (ignorant of pain, of suffering, of unshed sorrow.)

deadened faces, staring into nothing. (what goes on behind those blank stares?)

unkempt hair, spick and span. (the two completely mismatched.)

hushed voices. fatigued dozes. (the rat race niggers, niggers, niggers on. round and round the wheel goes round, round, round. incessant at the back of your mind?)

(but what else can you do 'cept wait?)

machines beep on indifferently. (they tell you if they're dead or alive.)

(a LOUD! awful sound! but oh, that's just a cough. maybe a heart attack.)

those of the newer occupants bound in anxious footsteps.

scenes from the ICU.

a trio prayed. Father, we take comfort in you ... Your Will ... You know ... .
"God bless you." sure.

but what about the faithless; where do they turn?

in the quiet, basement corridor, a woman wept into a sodden tissue. "my precious baby," she sobbed. around her shoulder laid a mindless arm, the girl with red-rimmed eyes listened, defeated. (what else was there to say?) she too had cried, but now her tears were dry; she stared with the glazed look of a storm that came and went, fast and furious, unregistered.

2007-04-14T01:39:00.000+08:00

rainy days bring strangers closer. there is a sense of intimacy--being huddled under limited shelter, forced to stand close, close, closer together.

"hi, excuse me, are you going to nus too? we could share a cab."
"oh, yes, yes. let's."
"where're you going?"
"as7."
"oh."
"where're you going?"
"central library."
"oh, that's ok. i can drop there too."

and then, someone else chips in.

"as7. arts?"
"oh, yeah."
"(nostalgic chuckle) wow. familiar place."
"are you going there too?"
"nah.. (shakes head) i've graduated. now i'm in the alumni."
"ohh.."

small world, isn't it.

and there was also the authorized-personnel-only walk through the ex-law faculty. with the thunder roaring, the rain pouring, the lightning electrifying, the walk felt completely out of this world. it felt like we were deep in the earth, cradled in warmth, uniform figures with uniform expressions staring at us, pausing in the middle of their work. twists and turns in an underground mine--a labyrinth with a small door at the end, literally with the light shining bright. it was absolutely surreal. i felt utterly privileged, buoyed by the childish sense of adventure.

and how can i forget the free plate of rice the quiet chef gave, shushing me with a discreet nod and a shy smile?

what about the guy who opened the door for me, after catching my eye, standing at the visiting-hours-only door, looking through the glass that barred me from offering comfort?

muted moments. but pregnant with a deep, universal comfort that soothes. that reminds us that beyond the rat race, beyond life's disappointments and mundane drudgery, one only need to reach out to have someone respond in a look, a touch, a gesture, a smile.

and for this, i give thanks.

2007-04-11T12:01:00.000+08:00

Now that I've met the last of my deadlines for the last semester of my official school years, (impending exams and nanoworld test notwithstanding haha), I've finally gotten around to the shocking administrative stuff that most prospective graduates have to do.

Such as, ordering of academic dress. I wish I can be more optimistic about the pink hood I have to wear (gross pun, pun, pun!!!) but really, it's at moments like this that I wish I majored in something with a prettier colour. Ahem. Like GOLD (science) which I'm never gonna survive in; or next best alternative ORANGE (social sciences) which seems much more attainable (considering I once toyed with the idea of majoring in Sociology). Pink is just so ugly. :( Only comfort is at least I'm not a guy. :x Haha.

And then. Jobs. jobs, jobs, jobs. While I've already decided on (and gotten) a pretty good option, all that talk I've heard before about not envying blah blah blah comes crashing in. What with friends being offered high-flyer-sounding options with a fat starting paycheck of $3k, AND friends being headhunted, la la la, suddenly my fragile ego is wondering what the hell I've been doing these past (coming) four years in NUS. Incessant questions of why didn't you work harder, join more ccas, be an enthu-kia blah blah blah buzz round and round and round.

Grrrr. Hate, hate, hate!

Though I must credit that slacker-life-appreciating side of me that comes to my rescue with, Don't Buy Into The Rat Race!!! Hur. Hur.

It's not easy lah. It's not easy to settle for mediocrity. Mediocre brains, mediocre life, mediocre looks, mediocre everything.

In other words, it's not easy to reject the world and its enticing offers.

HURrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrphm. Sigh. I wanna be a hobo. :S Gah.

And then there are the foreseeable future stuff like, finances, insurance, saving, blah blah, WEDDINGSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS (growl)--the weddings around me are making me so stressed! I can't believe FRIENDS are getting MARRIED (ugh!!). Like, woah! Slow down man, how come so fast one. :S

I wonder if this is called some young adult crisis or something. On one hand I don't want to work and accelerate old age (not literally, more like mentally. you know, talk about old people things, in an old people's way. ugh). On the other, I don't wanna be stuck in a teeny world of books and i-don't-have-a-care-in-the-world.

Can I just run away to a far away place where I can live my life The Way I Want To and not be stressed up by all these crazy go-getters around me. Ugh.

Or. Maybe I should just stop reading about their vunderful vunderful lives. UGh!

Oh, oh. Can I also add that I CAN'T believe I'm going to be 23 this year? TWENTY-THREE! Wasn't it just a couple of years ago when I told a friend that wow you're gonna be 23? -_-

Yah. I think I wanna stop thinking about that numbers thing cuz what do they mean anyway right. Hahaha. It's just that I never imagined a 23-year-old is Me. My fellow 23-year-old friends don't behave like they are 23 also, so. (Ahem, ms anzac and bimbo M etc.) Hahaha. I mean when you were a young young kid and looked at those tall, filled-out people, and found out they were 23, eons away from you, so worldly, so... grown-up! and imagine you are now at that stage--er, there appears a big disconnect somewhere.

Ok I know. Kid-version of 23-year-old don't match the Actual-version of 23-year-old. Hmmmmmm. Why ah.

Anyway. PMS is not so bad this month--maybe cuz of momma's secret herbal soup (which tastes grosss yucks). But. I still Neeeeed To Shoppppppp!!!!!! N.E.E.D to! haha.

2007-04-10T21:54:00.000+08:00

Short tribute to SISTER!

hugs! hugs! she did most of our nano project and i feel really bad. sobs. (lucky we are sisters so got a lifetime of chances to 'work' together again. haha.) :D

thank you, sister :D

2007-04-06T13:39:00.000+08:00

I can't concentrate. Have not done any work in the past two hours.

Why is it I can't stand strong in the face of the silent phone?

2007-04-05T21:10:00.000+08:00

In the mood for How-Come-This-Never-Happen-To-Me?!?!??!?! ?

Read this! [+]

I did think the last, last old couple ending part was quite.. er.. cheesy tho.

But who knows if the story is real! :D

**

Anyway, some mundane updates:

I was typing my ISM draft last night, intending to submit it to my sup today, but by wee morning I was concussing after every paragraph of reading. Since my sister's typing was s l o w i n g down too, I suggested a Quick Nap.

Hur hur. Anyone trained in the art of last-minute through-the-night essays knows there is no such thing as a Quick Nap.

But that's not really the point. I woke up this morning feeling like damn! the draft is not done! but what's new, right.

What's New is that at 6 AM this morning I trudged to my table where I left my work last night...

moved the mouse ... ... ...

And.

[Ctrl + Alt + Del]; Please LOGIN TO WINDOWS.

W . T . !$%$£%&%^*()&*)%^£$%"£ !!!!!!

It's quite an understatement to say I was frozen in my step. I logged in, opened MSWord, expecting the AutoRecovery thingy to work its magic, but could only stare in more horror as Document 1 remained adamantly open with the GROWL! blinking cursor.

ARGH! The final thing is due on Monday leh. The essay = 100% grade for the module leh. 1st draft submit TODAY (thursday) already considered super bloody late already leh. Wah lao! Growl, growl, growl!

Never mind. KIV that and rewind to mundate update 2:

In a nutshell, I also had a science paper (the big ass 25-30pages one) due today. Sister and I are writing on geckos (hur hur) and all we I know is that they are tiny creepy reptiles which eat bugs and have sticky feet. Gah.

At 11.30pm last night we decided to email for FURTHER extension (deadline was already extended once!), knowing it's a long long shot but keeping our fingers crossed.

**

Ok, now fast forward to this morning. Wiped-Out-Draft + Prob-Won't-Get-Extension = I need another 24hours please.

But! While I was moping in class (late by 10 minutes somemore!) trying to look intelligent (I haven't read/bought the text) and nodding at my supervisor's lecture, and I was inwardly boo-boo-ing sobs sobs, guess what!

Hmm. Not sure how to say this so it doesn't sound lame, but in the end my supervisor was super understanding. Shan't go into the details but somehow God just made a way. Also, my sister and I got the extension. Really! It couldn't get better, but it did!

I got back the essay I slept only 4 hours for (see prev post). Given her repute for strict marking and dishing out Bs, and given the details and argument were not clear in my head at the time of writing, and given I was struggling to just finish it half the time, my grade was really pretty decent.

So really, what can I say? Supervisor agreed to read my draft on a public holiday, offered to meet on Saturday for discussion; getting the A-Okay for further extension; getting a decent grade... all in one day?

Seriously, the moral of the mundane update is: Praise God. :D Ok, I don't know much, but I know that good things come from Him, and these are good things, so they must be from Him. I hope it's as simple as that. praise, praise, and rejoice! :D

Oh, oh. I just remembered something else. On the way back, (got a ride from papa, yay!) there was this stretch of beautiful clouds with the sunset rays shining through them... and right in the middle was this giant, GIANT mountain-shaped cloud with GOLDEN LINING all around!

Can you say Wow more? Gosh. :)

2007-03-31T13:44:00.000+08:00

FIRST ESSAY of my LAST SEMESTER and I nearly died. :S

The 10-15 pages Essay was due on Thursday in class or something. So, on Tuesday I was still fervently reading the texts. Decided to just BLAH it and started typing NOTES on Wednesday.

###

Wed morning: Started work at ... 10am ?? (Thanks to quality-time-breakfast with parents...)

Wed afternoon: Escaped to school so I won't be distracted by momma.

3-7+pm: Work, work, work.

7+ to 8+: Dinner. I was the other girl besides the air stewardess and we have the same names. Grouchy, blotchy, oily, and with an essay farfromcompletion, I escaped and left the guys (BF + Guy1 + Guy2) to enjoy themselves with Too-Cute-Do-Write-A-Book Air Stewardess. Yah, yah, unreasonably jealous and I know it. So, went to do essay lor.

9pm: (I can hear them laughing in the corridor!!!!!!!!!! Seethe, seethe, seethe!!) ((Breathe, do essay, breathe!))

9+ to 11.30: Work, work, work!! At this point I was still without a thesis and fumbling with loads of unconnected-but-interesting notes.

12MN: Hitched a ride home (yay!); showered, attempted to push on, succumbed to Z-monster at 3+ am (boo!).

Thursday 6am: Woken up by horrid nightmare which included being chased and harrassed by Kate, haggard Julia, and various other characters from my texts. HORROR!!

9-12pm: Went for class without the essay. Er, I confess I had grand plans of trying to type the essay WHILST in class BUT! I failed. Too cowardly and conforming. :(

12-6: Work, work, work!! Found out I had quite a number of 'company' to rush the essay. With this newfound Strength In Numbers, I am ashamed to say I slackened a little, with bright hopes of finishing by 9pm.

6-7pm: DINNER!!! TOO HUNGRY!!
7-7++: GOT DISTRACTED BY miss Smokey and BF's anecdotes of sec sch horrors. Plus a little discussion about the confounding Beryl Fairfield (growl).

8-11.45pm: Work, work, work. By this time the essay is Late and I was resigned to hand in Very.Early on Friday. Er. I was still doing notes for Julia. :S

12MN: Ride home!

1-7am: WORK, WORK, WORK!! Spurred on with compliments from Myojo instant noodles. Slurp! By this time I had some sort of outline, though the thesis was still in unglam shambles.

[[Oh, oh, may I add that Sister was rushing HER lit essay with me too! Haha.]]

7-8am: Hitched ride to school! Traffic jam pisssssed me off. Tho in the grand picture it didn't make much difference.

9am-2pm: RUSH, RUSH, RUSH. By the 'last section' and conclusion, I couldn't care less. There Goes the dream of handing in Very.Early.in the morning... .

2.30pm: FINISHED! YAY! Print & Hand in! Chalking up a total of 4hrs of zzz from Wed morning to Fri night! (Okay maybe 5-6hrs?)

###

Ok. Shan't narrate the rest of the day. Suffice to say I finally got to sleep at 11pm (?? thereabouts) yesterday and woke up gloriously today at 11am. Wahahahahaha.

Got three more big-ass essays coming up this week. Big-Ass because though one is a relatively more manageable 3k-words one (considering I just wrote like 6k??), the others are like 25-30pages and another 5-6k one.

No sweat. Hur hur.

2007-03-24T00:56:00.000+08:00

Maggie aka Miss M is so bimbotically funny it's not even funny.

And I don't like to be . ahem . M A T R O N L Y leh! Growl. MAGGIE-Sexy-Manga, I charge you with VOCAB ERROR of the HIGHEST DEGREE! Haha. :D

Anyway. Today was a glorious day! Tony Anthony is an amazing speaker with an incredible story.

Wish I had the chance to roll Oscar-Grammy-Cannes-Festival-Award-Winning Singapore Polytechnic film, huh! off my tongue though. Pity.

Hmm. I really do love stage-acting, sometimes. :D

2007-03-14T22:30:00.000+08:00

How the evil preys on our simply joys!

Only a moment ago I tried not to smile/laugh in spite of myself--happy nonetheless. And now! An innocent sentiment is shared that I should praise God for but that which made my heart leap in fear instead!

Gah! Stupid gremlins. Bugger off.

I got presentation tomorrow, loh. And tons of essays, lor. Bugger off, seriously.

2007-03-14T21:45:00.000+08:00

It's true, those wise old sayings, telling us women to choose a man who makes you laugh.

:)

2007-03-12T00:44:00.000+08:00

Where should I stuff this feeling?

In a shared space that has been abandoned, or a private space where it is unhealthy?

How should I feel receiving knowledge only through public letters?

Knowledge that I feel, I should have been privy to?

It's laughable that I think about how I should feel, even, because, where did that should come from?

Fact is that I should have just typed what I feel/felt. Not wonder what I OUGHT to feel about it.

. I tried not to feel gutted.

It's the knee-jerk feeling of self-protection that kicks in, immediately followed by denial.

So this is the real truth of how I feel: Sad. Surprised. Seized. Slapped. Choking.

Kind of like a What?

Angry, angry, angry.

Am I supposed to accept deeper sharing with ~~friends~~ ~~close friends~~ ~~SHEEP~~ people OTHER THAN ME?

I have hankered at the door, but I don't have the correct question-passwords. Explain to me why you offer privileges they didn't ask for.

I deliberated getting myself out of the loop so I wouldn't have to read it ~~them~~ ? read. Escapism. But seriously, I doubt the strength of my heart.

In a nutshell, I suppose I can summarize and say I'm ...deeply? ha. awfully, hurt.

*[Could be the PMS talking too. After all, things tend to appear more desolate and melodramatic during this time of the month. .]

2007-02-25T21:21:00.000+08:00

"I don't trust men."

Is that still so 'in' to say?

"I'm afraid of getting hurt again."

Is that still so alluring a sentiment to harbour?

"Alone is good. You don't get hurt that way."

Yah, talk about angsty.

Seriously, what is it about a stupid damsel that lures men like bees to honey?

To be fair, a damsel-in-distress is fairly passé. It is now much more fashionable to be a fiercely independent woman who asserts that she is not a damsel-in-distress and then cleverly expose her vulnerablilites at opportune moments.

The predictable man will then proceed to melt and extend his primitive protection, whereupon the pseudo-damsel will pull herself up straight and look at him as though he has insulted her oh-so-fierce-independence.

THAT, of course, is calculated precisely to draw the fish closer to shore. And any direct confrontation of this covert trap--so irksome to those who know--will only serve up indignant puppy eyes.

Puppy Eyes will then choose
(1) ('suffering in') silence (which can be used to her best advantage--think along lines of 'magnanimity' and 'maturity' etc),
(2) complete ignorance of 'what are you talking about' (insert more puppy eyes), or
(3) self-righteous stance--complete with tossing of head.

I . Am . Sick . Of . ................................................. Gah!

Should I be more disgusted with these women, or men who fall hook, line, and sinker??

Gah. Pui.

2007-02-24T01:13:00.000+08:00

Aiyo. Seriously. This is like, some benchmark for romance or something. I don't believe it lor.

Nah, read yourself lah. Don't collapse from disbelief/envy, ha ha.

[Link]

Maybe all triumphant love stories would sound as oohoohaahaahgushysweet when written, hor. Maybe.

2007-02-21T23:51:00.000+08:00

I pray that God will make me more sympathetic. more empathetic. so that I will understand the loved who feel unloved, the blessed who feel unblessed. so that I will know what it means to cry for attention. affirmation.

so that I will not dismiss them but love them.

so that I know how to comfort, how to embrace, how to tell them they are precious. so that I can tell them the world's standards are lies.

that they are not worthless because they are fat and ugly.

that they are not unwanted and unloved.

so that I can tell them they are beautiful. that they are gorgeous and lovely. that we are beautiful and amazing, captivating and glorious.

I pray that God, you will heal broken hearts. You will wipe away our tears, shed and unshed. Dear God, show us that you love us, even when we are fat and old, wrinkled and unpretty, with saggy boobs and knobby knees. Dear Lord, please cast out those who bring us down with their evil words, their hurtful lies, their brutal contempt.

Dear Lord, please draw the weary and the wounded hearts to you. Love them, and help them turn to you, Lord.

(I really want to slap and roar at these evil pigs, *I hope they grow fat and awful so they'll suffer as they've caused suffering!!* but help me turn away!)

In His mighty name, I pray and ask. Amen.

2007-02-15T22:20:00.000+08:00

So! It's Valentine's Day. I don't think I ever blogged about Valentine's er... but I may be wrong. Haha.

SO HAPPY!!

From my un-romantic boyfriend I got a mumu surprise. It was funny when it kept getting delayed and even though I sort of knew that it'll probably be a flower, it was still really warmandfuzzy-cute to watch him disappear happily to get it. It's extra endearing because he bounced off to collect it thinking I was safely tucked away somewhere else. Haha.

It gets even better. I called him. (Partly because our dinner was getting cold and How Come He Didn't See ME I WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!)

"YOU JUST SAW ME?! OH! I must have lost my way!"

ahem. Yah.

Fast forward to today! We met his momma and momma's friend for lunch, and then was in the middle of an errand when! A plushy, fluffy, whitey polar ambushed me us. Er, the (tiny) squeal of delight came out before I could stop myself. Oops. Yes, it is rather unbecoming for mid-20s (!) women (!!) to turn mushy in the presence of plush but at least I am consistent. Ha.

Ok, so it was a Happy Valentine's Day :D

The lady at the cashier was so funny.

"He buy for you one har?"
"Huh? Oh, Uh, yah, hahaha."
"So sweeeeet!"

But the most important thing that made me ^__________^ was the fact that we had a really good time together today. We didn't go out and date or have dinner at a swanky restaurant; in fact, we just stayed in school. Hur.

Ok, to be fair he did "take me out" (quote him) on a "date" (quote me) on Saturday, so. Which also came as a major surprise.

Anyway, today, we stayed in school. He played his (new) game while I read about conte fantastique. Quite geeky, but it was cosy. There was no miscomm, insensitivity, grouchy-ness, impatience, over-sensitivity... This is how it should be! Hahahaha.

SOOO. See, amidst the choking amount of happy, cliche couples in blissful clouds with lovelorn looks in their eyes, tightly-clutched roses and blatant PDAs, there are still sweet, humble stories like mine! (wahahahaha).

But really, I saw a lot of dripping-nectar couples today which made me nauseous, but I also saw a lot of quietly affirming, built-on-a-Rock, understated couples. A lady was marking papers, and the man was working on his laptop, and when they communicated, there's an immediate, marked difference that made me smile.

I could only think, that's the way love's supposed to be. It was a blessed moment, to be reminded.

Happy! :) So there, my virgin Valentine's day entry about Valentine's.

Happy Valentine's Day, all!

2007-02-06T20:18:00.000+08:00

I FORGOT TO FILE FOR GRADUATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem! Imagine the HORROR HORROR H O R R O R when I saw this:

Dear FASS students

From your record, it shows you have accumulated:

* 120MCs (or more) for B.A track students
* 160MCs (or more) for Honours track students

but did not file for graduation during the GAPS Exercise which was held from 16-23 January 2007.

Please let us know your reason(s) for not filing for graduation in Semester 2, AY2006-07 by Monday, 12 February 2007. If you do not file for graduation, you will not receive emails regarding registration for the commencement ceremony and not be able to attend the ceremony this year.

I only saw the words in BOLD and was really quite seized with horror until I calmed down and read the mail more properly.

To think that just YESTERDAY I had told Q confidently and nonchalantly that FFG is in February, lah!, while thinking in parenthesis that (aiyo think i dunno what i doing meh).

Apparently I don't.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I can't believe it! :S

Lucky I can still file manually. Wah. Really super lucky. :S:S:S

2007-01-31T17:56:00.001+08:00

[Overheard Snatches]

: "I like lit... but I really regret it. Like, I just really regret."
: "Yeah... I like lit too. Can you imagine I'm taking Shakespeare AND British texts?? Like, can you imagine!"

Quit the bloody course, then, idiots. Dispassionate people like you can just slug off to other ... disciplines that's more forgiving of whining.

I Like Lit, But I Really Regret It. I mean, what kind of statement is that? It means you like the idea of lit, but not really lit-lit.

That's also similar to saying, I like falling in love, but I really regret it.

And, Shakespeare AND British texts? Please. That's not even the typical workload of a Literature student.

"Lit makes you think, I suppose... And I love to think! Can you imagine, what is worse than not thinking?? *groans*"

Seriously. Literature excites me as much as it depresses me. I am sick of people saying "I LIKE LIT" without really knowing what they are talking about. For example, "I LIKE LIT, but I hate reading!" -- Ahem. Where's the logic? Also, "I LIKE LIT! but it's so 1. cheem 2. impractical 3. job prospect-less, so, don't want lah."

Yah. Slug off, seriously. A person who thoroughly abhors literature is held in higher opinion than these half-baked losers.

BAH!

2007-01-31T17:37:00.000+08:00

I want that I don't have to ask. To be given freely, out of the desire to please.

*

I cut myself while shaving a carrot. It's just a little scratch, just enough to make blood ooze under the tap, to make a blot on the plaster, red and screaming, demanding justice and attention.

2007-01-30T21:17:00.001+08:00

You Communicate With Your Body

This isn't as bad as it sounds, it just means that you're a "touchy-feely" person.
You need a lot of affection in your life. And for you, this means both giving and receiving little touches.
Warm hearted, you bond with people easily. In fact, you often feel a little sad when you're not in the company of others.
A little moody, you tend to be controlled by your emotions. But a bit hug always comforts you!

How Do You Communicate?

2007-01-30T18:08:00.000+08:00

Have been feeling fat and bloated for the past week and that's probably part of the reason why I am so grouchy. Sometimes I think I'm just being paranoid but when the elephant stares back in the mirror, I know the fats don't lie.

It's the evil Seafood Buffet, I tell you. We brought our dad to the droolicious Vienna Restaurant where they have a wide array of choice seafood and top-notch delicacies. It was also a dinner buffet. After a bowl of 'Buddha Jumps Over The Wall' (where the only big-shot is the lone abalone; okay the herbal soup was really nice too), it was literally Let It Rip with the rest of the food.

Fresh oyster baked with melted cream and cheese,(topped with fish roe!),
Fresh LIVE oyster in the shell,
Abalone fried rice,
Random slices of abalone in sweet sauce,
Sharks' fin soup,
Steamed spanner crab,
Chilli spanner crab,
Normal pepper crab,
Baked crayfish topped with melted cream and cheese,
Tiger prawns,
Cereal prawns,
.... WAH serious.

Plus! Japanese fare like sushi--and not the low-cost egg and crabstick kind--
Full-fledged stuff like salmon hamasaki, unagi, premium salmon roe inari, salmon sashimi, maguro sashimi, octopus sashimi, chawanmushi, hashima (xue3 ge1)..

AND they have LOADS of yummy desserts!! They have cold prawns with peaches in dainty little cups, fruit cocktails with other stuff that I didn't try, also a small selection of cakes and pastries, puddings, cocktails (in glasses and test-tubes[?!]), ice-cream...

Oh they also have a teppanyaki section where you choose your dory or codfish or salmon, or other stuff like beansprouts or kailan or whatever, and they'll cook it for you on the spot.

And the cherry that tops all these goodies off is: they are Free Flow! Replaced as soon as they are out, steaming hot! And you are not charged for 'food wastage'. So if you don't like it, leave it, and move on to greater delicacies! Haha.

Yah, see. That was the most guilty pleasure in a long long time.

So what was I saying... Oh, yes, hence the sudden impulse to RUN today. Actually it wasn't that sudden--except it rained on the first day and then I woke up late on the second... etc. SO I attempted a 4.2km run.

First run in a long time.

Needless to say it was a rather sorry attempt.

Oh well. Ok lah, will attempt more er... later this week. Wahaha.

2007-01-24T20:04:00.000+08:00

How do you put your pride aside for love?

2007-01-21T18:59:00.000+08:00

I really, really want to blog more, but I always can't seem to remember the things that struck me through the day. You know, those odd little phrases and pseudo-epiphanies.

There are a lot of things to account for, and Time is barely giving me enough room to breathe and live. Is this how it is going to be, and worse? Does Time press us all on mundanely as we get older?

Snatches of time hardly allows for any meaningful discussion. Why do we allow pride and preoccupation with 'tasks-at-hand' to make things worse?

I do not believe in habitual drifting. I do not believe in jaded realism. Cynicism is probably the new cool, but what is cynicism, really? A thinly veiled excuse for pessimism and apathy, I think. Possibly also fear. Cynical people are often fearful of believing in general goodness, preferring instead to scorn in a bid to protect their fragile hopes.

I am also getting lulled into the Big Lie that says This Is How Things Are Supposed To Be. I want to snap out of it and get back into the idealistic groove that is the real me. That is what I brought into the relationship, and that is what I intend to infect him with. In this case, I think mine is the better way.

Focus, that is all I need. And to continually put my private wounds aside--smiling with a shard through the heart--isn't that what I used to be good at? Anyway, this is not supposed to be angsty.

I also sometimes wonder why it seems I was a better person before I accepted Christ. I have a theory that maybe it's because the juxtaposition of good versus evil makes the evil more apparent. Maybe. But it still bothers me that I seem to be becoming a worse person than before.

Wonder what's going on.

2007-01-21T18:14:00.000+08:00

What is the use of saying something when it's useless and ... possibly meaningless?

What can it mean if you bought something someone else was planning to surprise you with and that someone told you they were planning to buy it for you AFTER you've bought it?

I am not good at hiding my feelings, much less maintaining a poker-face when facing a burst bubble.

In layman's terms, WHY DID HE HAVE TO GO AND GET THAT SOMETHING THAT I WANTED TO GET FOR HIM!!! . . . Stupid, stupid, stupid. Feels like I've been robbed of a chance to put a brilliant smile on his face.

SOBS!

2007-01-09T00:04:00.000+08:00

I just blog-surfed from blog to blog and found this blog where the girl calls her boyfriend Q.

It is TOO uncanny.

On the side panel she claims she'll refer to him as various other things but not 'Q' but there the letter stands proud and adamant in her entries.

Haha. So drama. Er. I guess I'm feeling a little robbed of what I didn't-but-felt-as-though-I-did copyrighted.

Like, "Hey That's What Friends and I Call MY Boyfriend!". (Cue optional pout).

Aiya irrational or whatever lah.

Said girl also happens to be an old schoolmate. As are the rest of the blog links.

The world is Too Small. And perhaps a little too uncreative.

2006-12-29T01:10:00.000+08:00

Okay. This is a little freaky. Mister God is how prompt in replying. Right after I posted that, I surfed randomly to a blog in my bookmarks and the person just went for a certain concert, and posted a certain extract from a certain song:

Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain
But if the invitation’s open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain
On our stained glass masquerade

WHAT!!! And during the awful conversation just now I was just thinking how maybe I've walled that tired heart of mine up.

Gah.

Ok Mister God. You win. I'm sorry. :(

Haiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

Yes I was being a selfish prick. And yes I will go to school with him tomorrow. And ok no, I won't go and drink myself silly on Saturday at a certain gathering.

Yes, Mister God. Again, I will follow you. *_* Happily!!!!! :D

2006-12-29T00:39:00.000+08:00

What is the point of talking when your listeners are falling off their chairs in slumber?

You really should've known better than to talk at such inappropriate times.

.

When, then?

Have I even told you about the weirdest, disturbing dream I had? The one where I was supposed to marry this other guy, while another almost made me elope with him, and you stood around just . . watching?

Of course another way to distort this is to argue that I have such a fickle heart.

Dear Lord, seriously. Why did you send someone to tell me things like, have faith when the going gets rough, and know that he still loves you?

Seriously! What are You trying to say?

.

Why am I always trying to make him understand?

Really, just let this go. What is the point of understanding? Why should people try so hard to make others understand them?

I ought to be less selfish and start listening and understanding.

Just shut myself off, please, so I can begin to put others in perspective.

2006-12-27T23:27:00.000+08:00

Wahahaha I have done a stupid (but fun to do) quiz.

But... WARRIOR MONK!?!?!!? What kinda 'seduction style' is that?!

.gah. anyway.

I like the 'even if you fall flat your confidence will pull you through' bit. The picture is so ridiculous (hello, what confidence Hur Hur) that it's not even funny. :D

2006-12-26T14:23:00.000+08:00

So.

I've disappeared from the face of the universe after my falling-in-love-in-the-middle-of-exams stunt--but what's new?

Have disappeared off to Malaysia for a week and been busy with scouting the East for good food for the hungry youths in church.

Am also snooping in most of their blogs. Blog[S] because it's find one and find the rest.

Snooping also always gets me into a certain... mood.

I've definitely mellowed since my 'younger' days. Wahaha. Given my current age, I wonder how depressingly 'mellow' I'll be in fifty years.

Don't want, leh. I've always envisioned myself as a happy, bouncy, cute grandma. Full of energy, you know, and easy laughter.

I am feeling rather regretful that I didn't attend the youth camp in the end. I was assigned a really great partner for the camp and I was trying to maintain some semblance of maturity by not getting overly excited about the partnership. Haha. All for naught, in the end, I guess.

Why am I feeling this resistance to be more personable and affable?

An unfortunate side-effect of growing up? Or maybe I've been unwittingly influence by the Mister.

That's also not very fair to say, because increasingly I'm finding him more and more personable and affable to people around him. Silliness.

Anyways. Enough of moping. I've got my good stuff too, I'm sure. Hah.

:D

2006-11-28T20:15:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, I fell in love again.

He held me in his arms and moved us into a slow, romantic dance.
We are not dancers, but clumsy feet did not bother us.
It's in the way he held me, the way he brushed my hair.
It's how he looked into my eyes and smiled and

How can I explain?

Because what do I say--that the dance meant so much to us?

To me?

And then, what of holding hands? Sitting together, side by side?

What of a personal dedication? Of a fluffy song, no less? And TWICE, too.

You won't understand the joy of reunion until you have gone through a long separation. Good times just brings back so many more dear memories.

And it's true. Fall in love, again and again. And then rejoice! For that is what love is all about, too--a rejoicing, a celebration. That you have the privilege and gift of loving this same person, over, and over, and over again.

:)

2006-11-24T01:35:00.000+08:00

[THIRD POST. I must really be on a roll.]

So. I've established with a Brother that, wanting to be romanced is not frivolous.

And. I've also established with another friend that, when they don't have even voice contact for a day, it feels weird.

I'll just add for him that the day is incomplete.

Like something crucial is missing.

And. If you're dismissing it as HoneyMoon-Behaviour, you're wrong. They've been together for five years.

.

I've also established there are guys on the other extreme.

.

Actually why am I so 'surprised'? Haven't I known all along, even read, scoffed, laughed at, bought into, the idea of the Detached Male? That the regular Joe is precisely that--commitment-phobic, needs his space, please don't be too clingy, loves his Warcraft, don't touch his car, what's with shopping, A-B-C-then-D = logical sense, . . . etc.

Oh and please don't even expect just-because gifts/surprises.

Flowers???

"Bad command or file name."

[insert aggravating blinking cursor]

Ok that's not really the complete picture. It's a general picture. He did knit a scarf for me once, which touched me to my fingertips and toes. But I destroyed it when I tried to clean it so maybe that's why.

we should not try to change people because that is really low so i guess i will have to decide if i can accept this ability to forget about me for days and somehow connect that to the fact that it does not mean he cares or loves me any less probably that is just how he is and so i guess at the end of the day someone has got to give some

Compromise is awful sometimes. Maybe that's why he doesn't agree to it at all.

And then there are girls who don't care for stuff like these. Yeah, "stuff".

Ok I'm going to sleep.

2006-11-23T23:11:00.000+08:00

[Second entry of the night. I'm on a roll. Ha.]

I finally finished a book today that I have been picking up on and off. It was a long time coming but I'm glad I took the time to finish and properly understand it. I don't like to rush through books because it makes me feel like I'm running a how-many-yard dash just for the record and to show off that OhMy I am Such a Prolific and Fast Reader. Like ok, yah, whatever.

As I was saying, it's a book everyone should read. I felt mildly depressed because relationships never seem tougher after I closed the book and I wondered about his sappy happy ending.

That said I also felt strangely edified because I know I did the right thing a little over a year and a half ago.

"Can two people walk together unless they be agreed?"

No, they can't.

And I'm glad we agreed. I'm glad he made me take responsibility for this decision as much as he assures me of his decision. I'm glad it's our decision.

As a matter of fact, it was such a responsible decision that it's easy to think it's a sealed promise. It's easy to think--and I have fallen countless times to the temptation--that ~~we will walk down~~, ahem, sorry, I will walk down the aisle, to him. It is scary to think that we may not.

It is really, really ... unimaginable.

For me, at least.

And I wonder how is it that, knowing He has the best plan for me, the most beautiful love story for me, knowing these, how is it that I do not trust Him? I say 'do not trust' because I do not wholly believe. If I do, I wouldn't have a lump in my throat every time the thought enters my head.

It is a grudging submission--why can't I submit joyfully?

Anyway. Take things easy, right? Ha Ha. Be so serious, for what? Right?

Easier said than done, lah, ok.

So. Boy Meets Girl, by Joshua Harris. Read it!

Onto more ego-boosting, self-uplifting books. Like books that tell women how beautiful they really are. Even if NO ONE SAYS and/or THINKS SO. And even if the WHOLE WORLD says only 35-23-34 + 5'7 are the most alluring.

It's true, ok. Women. We Rock. Yeah.

:D

2006-11-23T22:25:00.000+08:00

I'm thinking maybe I should revamp my blog a little and start writing it like I write my diary. That said, I don't want to falsely interpellate people; 'you' might just refer to an unknown [ ] instead of you who are reading theserandomstuffthatare notsorandom.

Maybe this is a space to talk to myself.

I'm just thinking why this semester has been so ... hazy. I'm floozing through and I don't feel good about it. Maybe it's premature-pre-graduation syndrome.

What am I going to do when I graduate? I ask this everywhere and perhaps a Freudian reading of this annoying slip is that I am projecting my anxieties on others.

But whatever. What AM I going to do when I graduate?

I should probably think about passing that awful module first, though.

Ok, it's not awful. It's just that I'm highly inept in that side of the campus. [As an aside, I wonder if I am falling into the trap of some self-fulfilling prophecy... Gah.]

I'm disappointed with a lot of things, but should I be? After all, I have done my best; and if I have not, it probably didn't matter that much anyway.

This semester has been mighty busy, and we haven't actually spent that much quality time together, doing more important things like communicating. And there's a huge part of me that wish for the holidays to come so we can finally have some . date-time? How inarticulate. Go out lah. Go and pak tor. Maybe we can go take a walk. Er. Ok. Photography, perhaps. Or just do something fun.

But the exams will be over soon (I know they have not even started) ---

I've decided not to continue with that train of thought.

Ohs. I bought a nice dress! Haha. I'm not sure why I bought it because there aren't occasions for me to wear it and, . . . Ok. Who am I kidding. Ha. Yah. For an imaginary date that's not gonna happen. Yada yada. Please say I look ~~pretty~~ beautiful.

Strike that. Why am I so bimbotic!!! Ok. Again.

I bought a nice dress!! Shall wear it whenever. Yeah. Maybe when I feel like looking pretty. Hee. Yay. :D

Ok so there's no point to this entry and when I read you, my dear blog, some ten days down the road I probably will grimace and wonder why I didn't write about more intelligent stuff or stuff you with nice long cryptic poetry BUT. I need to ramble. And no one is free to listen so you shall sit around for me to yak at. Plus they are mostly incoherent and trivial unimportant things so.

Maybe I am subconsciously stressed.

2006-11-17T22:25:00.000+08:00

Yah. I wish I still get ^___________^ good morning smses from him.

2006-11-16T23:26:00.000+08:00

It is really something to lose sight of where you're going. Or where you wanted to go in the first place. It doesn't help that I have a poor sense of direction to begin with. And am rather forgetful.

I don't know about tomorrow
I just live from day to day
I don't borrow from its sunshine
For its skies may turn to gray

Really. I still don't know about love. What is it, really? When two people are in love, are they supposed to bring out the best in each other? What if they don't? Does that mean they don't love each other? Or maybe they're not loving each other in the right way?

Is there a 'right' way?

What about dreams? Shouldn't two people be able to bounce off each other and spur each other onto greater pastures?

Are there different ways to love, then?

I have a paper to work on, yet I'm still thinking about things like these. Why do things like these pop into my head at the most inopportune times?

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand

Do I? Do I really, from the bottom of my heart and soul and mind?

I get more and more tired of superficialities that surround me. Small talk about things that don't matter. Smiles that don't reach the eyes. Voices that speak from wary hearts.

What am I doing where I am?

What happened to my paintbrushes, (and WHY IS IT ALWAYS PAINTBRUSHES anyway? I HATE REFERRING TO FASHIONABLE ... STUFF)? Floosy dreams... easy laughter... Oh God I can't even remember them. Sillythings. Happythings. I don't want to be a disgusting jaded adult!!

Give me back the colours, you-whoever-who-stole-it.

Have I really lost myself since?

Am I shedding that for a better me, or have I just screwed up real bad?

Should I just stop digging into the old chest and let ghosts rest?

But what if they were right? UGH! I can't even begin to imagine that.

No. I must have confidence. I must believe in better judgement. And I must have faith in these better hands.

But help me, for I am so weak and proud.

2006-11-15T00:16:00.000+08:00

I don't know what is wrong and I wish I do. I'm having less and less to say and harbouring less and less opinions. I think it's because I know so little.

And I really know so little. It's not like those people who know too much and therefore come to some enlightenment about how little they know, but the kind where you realize you don't know what everyone is talking about, superficial or intellectual, and it makes you feel stupid and what have you been doing with those 24 hours!?.

What is wrong with me?

And my period is late. It's irritating and annoying when you've been waiting and waiting for something and it's not here as promised. I can't do my work. I get disgusting PMS that's wrecking havoc on my relationship. I get blah and flah and gahbishbah and,

Oh, look, a happy bouncing forever girlish giggly girl has just came online.

And WHY am I giving her the evil eye about the impossibly girly photo she has on her MSN?

It's everyone's right to be impossibly girly, and she's genuinely nice and friendly, but maybe all that sugar is really getting on my nerves.

I don't like to be happy and bouncy and girlishly cute complete with a big fat chirpy flower.

But I do. I secretly wish I can be happy and bouncy and girlishly stupidly cute without feeling stupid and unworldly-ly UNgrounded for being so. Hence my snide smile. Hence my evil eye. Hence my 'Aiya Whatver Lah I'm just NotLikeThat'. Foolishly I believe that being grouchy is the new cool.

Yucks. What is Really Wrong with me!

Whatever lah. I got some stupid proposal to hand in in, 24 hours? Ha. I have lost all motivation. I think that's the primary problem. Because there is no more hope of getting a silly Second Upper I am throwing in the towel.

Evil Voice says Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, but who says there is No Hope?? There is ALWAYS Hope, hmmmm? As long as there is TOMORROW, there is Always Always hope! Cue for happy bouncy purple dinosaur and likes.

Gross.

I can hear a circular arguement coming on and I can't be bothered to indulge it. You can write 12,000 words on it though. Here, the buzzwords are: Hope, Impetus, and Cynic. Do add in loads of logic too.

Growl.

2006-11-01T01:16:00.000+08:00

I think 'fear of commitment' is increasingly becoming a euphemism for 'not wanting it bad enough'.

Anyhow, maybe this guy has got his title wrong or perhaps is a little mistaken about his woman, but I love his little hint at the end:

HINT: Lend her your strength as much as you borrow hers. And when in doubt, hold her hand in public…let the world know you are with nobody but her.

Very nice. I like that.

Get the rest of it here.

2006-11-01T00:56:00.000+08:00

From Titania

I AM: not who I want to be.
I WANT: to be good at what I do best (but I haven’t found what this is yet).
I WISH: I was more of woman.
I HATE: over- enthusiastic/bright/chirpy/annoying people.
I MISS: you when you are not around.
I FEAR: losing what I love.
I HEAR: discreetly conversations around me.
I WONDER: who I will spend the rest of my life with.
I REGRET: not having studied harder.
I AM NOT: the quiet girl people perceive me as.
I DANCE: to trance/house music only. (Salsa is overrated and is a craze that will die out)
I SING: in my head.
I CRY: when I feel hurt.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: polite or patient.
I MAKE MADE WITH MY HANDS: cards for my first boyfriend. Naïve, because they probably have been reduced to ashes.
I WRITE: what I fail to express in speech.
I CONFUSE: my insecurities with my partner’s (perceived lack of) love
I NEED: to be more motivated.
I SHOULD: start saving.
I START: all hyped up about something.
I FINISH: having felt I must have lost something along the way.
I LOVE: being in love.
I REMEMBER: both the happy and sad things

I feel better knowing I'm not abnormally clingy/in love/dependent/etc because I miss him everytime he is not around. Which is most of the time.

The second one almost had my eyes popping out of their sockets.

I didn't know I was that insecure.

2006-10-30T17:29:00.000+08:00

Like words written in the sand--who'd ever know they were there? How many feet have stepped on children scrawls, childish hearts, moments of magic, silly doodles, sweet endearments... When did we stop... delighting?

How do we know when we are (oh the awful cliche) taking things for granted?

2006-10-30T16:55:00.000+08:00

Hope is ~~sometimes~~ often very painful.

2006-10-21T19:18:00.000+08:00

This semester is just . . . .b .l. .e. a gh.x. . ... .

I screwed up my presentation so badly that the professor needed to cover it again for the class.

Jaded Year 4. (- ____________ -) sigh.

Love life has just gotten better, though. :) Happy! Hee.

Have so many things to do though.
Am going nuts. Shall make a list.

[ ] soci of education essay
- [ ] interview transcripts
- [ ] readings - theories
[ ] research workshop proposal
- [ ] work through my problematic topic
- [ ] decide if i want to continue with this topic (too morbid/disturbing? need to pray.)
[ ] soci of pop culture essay
- [ ] borrow and finish book
- [ ] identify potential interviewees
- [ ] conduct interviews
- [ ] read relevant theories
- [ ] come up with a brilliant thesis brimming with originality
[ ] genes and society essay
- [ ] find out what I'm supposed to do :S
[ ] fret about asia moderns mounting pile of cheem readings

[ ] food for youth camp
[ ] christmas choir

[ ] hand in UW transcript to office!!!! :S

[ ] get pretty
[ ] bounce around more
[x] paint my nails

GAH.

Oh, one more.

[ ] get used to dating a scientist. (read: dates in the lab.)

*muacks* It's ok. I know he has a protein to isolate and identify. :S

2006-09-30T14:22:00.000+08:00

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. ~~They didn’t ask for it.~~ [He did ask for it.] They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, ~~so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart~~. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. ~~I hate love.~~ [Double-strike, please.]” — Neil Gaiman

Love makes you cry as hard as it makes you laugh, fall as low as it makes you leap high, and wallow as much as it makes you sing and float on cloud nine. Love is extreme like that. One can love extremely and wisely; they are not mutually exclusive.

But one cannot love moderately. Moderate love is not love; moderate is lukewarm, sterile, and bland. Moderate love is not love with wisdom; or is it? Moderate love does not inspire, motivate, make you leap for joy, or cry buckets for hours. It is like having a job on a need-it-to-survive basis, where you work just so you can satisfy your wants and pass the days.

Love extremely, wildly, passionately, I say, or don't love at all. Such love is not the same as childish impulses where 'only the moment matter'--those are short-sighted, silly, and frivolous. Love deeply, not drunkenly.

Get the drift yet? Deep love is not drunken. It is not fraught with insecurities and fears. Nor burdened with pride.

No wonder "happiness is an uphill climb".

I really hope we'll be triumphant, victorious, and wiser, together, at the summit, hand-in-hand, smiling at the breathtaking wonders of God's hands.

2006-09-17T22:07:00.000+08:00

Incapacitated is a word that is almost becoming cliché.

I have checked up the word and am sure that it is the only, most appropriate, no, most precise word to describe exactly how I am feeling right now.

To incapacitate: To deprive of capability; to render incapable.
Incapaciated: Exhausted. Impotent. Incompetent. Paralyzed. Unable to respond.

How else can you describe this?

Have you ever watched yourself like a stranger, unwittingly?

I can't function. I have felt this way before and this is a ridiculous time and place to feel it again. [But feelings are not rational.] I cannot type a single word without first backspacing it in my mind.

It is only six hundred words and I cannot do it.

Simply notice: shortness of breath, tightness in chest, lightheadedness, overly bright vision, crosswired braincells.

I cannot think.

Dear Lord, You know this is more than stress and the irrational, unworthy pressure to surpass myself. Something is at work here and it's gnawing, gnawing, gnawing away at me, wearing me down, tiring me out. GO AWAY, Evil-Doer! Flee! In the name of Jesus, you had better run! Dear, dear Lord, help me, please. I feel so weak and I cannot think. Something is taking over and I'm struggling. It's a trying struggle, Lord! Help me, dear Lord, I give this to You, help me to give this to You, Lord, I give this to you, Lord. Come, dear Lord, come! Take over, please...... Dear God please be merciful... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Peace, dear Lord, I need Your peace. Come, dear Lord... Come. In Jesus' name I sinfully pray, amen.

2006-08-31T23:45:00.000+08:00

Everything's lost when frost seizes the heart.

2006-08-26T22:18:00.000+08:00

Hello! I'm back. Hopefully with less reservations and audience.

Still working on the rest of those clickables. It'll be interesting to see how (and where) this new excitement will steer this space.

Here's to a new-- and last--academic year, fresh inspirations, and a whole load of joy and challenges! :)

2006-07-02T18:54:00.000+08:00

Gah. Stuff we read. Pui.

'I love you' and 'I'm in love with you' are different. I've found that I need both from my guy. I need to know he loves me, and perhaps even more so, I need to know that he is in love with me.

I believe that's what all women need. We need to be ROMANCED (hello!!) and delighted in. We need to know we are wonderful and beautiful and AMAZING (oh what a flutter my heart ~~makes~~ made at that word).

Captivating. We need--*NEED*--to know we are captivating. Know, and BELIEVE, and ASSURED, that we are captivating.

Anyway. Not sure where I was intending to go with this. Haha. Just something that keeps resonating with me.

I wish my dad knew that. And express it in actions. Plus words.

Men and women are not equal. We have different roles to play. We are the beautiful princesses that they need to fight dragons for and then kneel at our feet and tell us we are the reason they chopped through the overgrowth and undergrowth and endured disgusting bugs and crawlies and battled the meanie dragon.

Haha. Aiya. I'm so ineloquent about this.

Go read Captivating by John and Stasi Elderidge. ;)

-----------

[afterthought] Uh. I realized I started the entry with reading something and ended the entry recommending a book. Uh. Different contexts, in case you're confused. Haha.

2006-07-01T23:01:00.000+08:00

Just did my CAP score stimulator thing. Sucks like shit. I need a miracle man. It appears a second-upper honours might not be impossible--just highly, highly !¬£"%"£$&^£$£"$!£$ to get.

Like a probability of 0.0000001. Aiya. Don't know probability of what lah, my math also so lao pok. SHIT MAN.

Yah, like a second-upper IF I GET LIKE PERFECT CAP SCORE FROM NOW ONWARDS--competing on a laopok bell curve with brilliant DEAN'S LIST students.

AIYA. shit lah. why am i doing this!!! WASTE MONEY WASTE TIME doing something that is already decided. WHAT SHITTY persevering human spirit ah. Some Romantic hero ah. Fighting and aspiring despite all shitty odds.

Aiya. Feel so DONE FOR kind of feeling lah. Crap. GAH.

2006-04-18T07:24:00.000+08:00

{-12hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Gah! I finished an essay today in record time (I took only 3 hours!!!) and felt so accomplished that I am slacking the rest of my day away. I've got an exam tomorrow but I don't feel like mugging for it because it's END OF SEMESTER DAMNNIT!!! AND. And. At the end of the day this is all S/U but I keep telling myself that I want a nice transcript from here and I wanna walk outta Canada with pride that I did my best.

Bah. But it's getting so freaking hard. UGH! UGH! UGH!

And. Q's internet is down. Sucking PGP!! OI! Give my boyfriend his internet back! Long-distance is hard enough and now this technology is going all screwy on us. Come ON, baby, this is the time we need you most. :( Come back soon, Internet.

2006-04-09T11:59:00.000+08:00

{-12hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Do you know the effects of rejection on adolescents?

Tremendous. Some grown-ups just don't realize it.

It's NOT a 'passing phase'. I think it actually have a profound effect on the person.

Sometimes it screws the person up so bad. Sometimes they are lucky to find someone later who'll put them back in place; but I'm sure there are the unlucky ones. Maybe that's one of the reasons for unhappy marriages and the two-year-itch-divorces--because these 'unlucky ones' just settled for whatever came their way.

Anyway, the point is, rejection is a very real thing. And so is love. How can these things introduce themselves to us at such a young age?

'Young'. I actually said that. Haha. The pomposity of 'grown-ups'. Whatever makes me think there is a 'right age'?

Hai. :(

2006-04-09T03:34:00.000+08:00

{-12hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Stole this from JaG!

Feeling insecure is just a bitch. I know because that bitch creeps up on me sometimes too. It's when I start thinking "Am I fun enough? Am I beautiful enough? Does he really love me? Won't he get bored of me? What if I upset him? I'm not as special as he wants me to believe I am". And then when it's a very severe attack I start picking fights, annoying him just for the sake of it, mentally kicking him just to see if he'll still like me or grab his stuff and run away.

SEE! I'm not EMO, ok. :D

Me and babe, we fight about this bitch all the time; and it's mostly me. And the last one was really bad. But he's been patient and loving and doesn't give me the eyebrow anymore, so I know everything's alright and he loves me and all I wanna do is snuggle right back into him and say, I'm sorry.

^___________^

2006-04-09T03:14:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Feeling uninspired.

I think my moods now have a LOT to do with whether or not I see my favourite boy and my family.

:(

2006-04-02T02:40:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Yay! I bought a new magazine for my sister!! So excited about it! Haha.

Hai. Feel so sian. Growls.

I had fun just now with my sister.. She stayed up for me and we had fun doing silly quizzes and laughing about it. So fun! :) It's a JOYOUS MOMENT. Haha.

Anyway. Sending letters by air mail takes SO long. Bah. TWO weeks! :( How did those people managed when they had to send letters by sea? Or worse, by foot?!

I cannot imagine! But maybe their lifestyle and perspectives and all that were different then, too.

Waiting. We all just keep waiting, don't we?

2006-03-28T14:14:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Do you people actually read my canadian blog?

Haha. Because sometimes I update my moods there and forget to do it here, so I seem perpetually sad and depressed and neurotic.

Anyway.

I think the shock of writing 6 papers is making everything hazy. Or maybe God is taking charge and strengthening me for this daunting ordeal. It's probably God.

Yay! :)

2006-03-24T14:34:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Oh. But it's probably just PMS.

It just gets so bad here.

I know it's probably PMS when I:

- eat junk food at 1.30am knowing it's fat and bad
- read old entries
- is convinced he doesn't love me
- cry

It might also be the flu bug. Makes everything sad and floozy and woozy. Like breathing through choked pipes and perceiving everything through a fog.

But what if it's true? That I'm really sad, really eat junk food just because, that he really doesn't love me, and that I just really want to cry?

Then again, if you cry for no perceptible reason, it's probably PMS.

No?

2006-03-24T13:47:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Junk food is comfort food.

I eat them when I'm sad.

2006-03-20T06:12:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I am so in love with him.

He makes me laugh.

He makes me laugh at silly things, and don't make me feel silly.

He makes me cry.

He makes me cry out of anger.

Scream out of frustration.

Out of love.

He makes me lie down in defeat.

He doesn't believe in half-attempts. He makes me go the whole ten miles.

He matches me, sarcasm for sarcasm, lifted brow with lifted brow.

He bangs through the walls, Rose Is Rose style.

He loves me.

He loves me the best way he knows.

He loves me in ways I didn't know I could be loved.

He protects me.

He protects me from the world.

From myself.

I love him.

I love him in ways I didn't know I could love.

Who says love is a sugar-sweet journey, filled with candyhearts and unending rainbows?

It's not. It takes work. It takes faith, commitment, and trust. And whoever said trust was an easy task?

But there's nowhere else I'd rather be, than being in love with you.

*muacks* :D

2006-03-15T05:27:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

The ball has started rolling.

My friend is getting married in May this year. That's 2 months away!

Another one is already married.

AND. My uncle/cousin also got married last weekend!!!!

It has begun. :S:S

At the same time, a lot of them are still partying crazily. Haha. So. ;)

2006-03-14T15:06:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Nothin' compares to him.

*muacks*

2006-03-08T11:50:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

oh. guess what. maybe i've got it. why i'm so sad. maybe those results i got today affected me more than i realized. yeah. sure. must be. why else am i falling and hurtling into ... ?what?

i just want to curl up and cry.

why. why. why. why do we say 'leave me alone' and get upset when they actually do?

sick, that's what we are. women. we are sick.

2006-03-08T11:25:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

a girl can always dream. i've found THE radio station. it plays 90% good music. right now, it's making me a little sad. especially with all the ... sigh.

why?

how come love is so complicated?

It’s late in the evening
She’s wondering what clothes to wear
She puts on her make up
And brushes her long blonde hair
And then she asks me
Do I look alright
And I say yes, you look wonderful tonight

I WANT to be told I look wonderful tonight.

We go a party
And everyone turns to see
This beautiful lady
That’s walking around with me

I want to be that beautiful lady that everyone turns to see. I want him to feel that I'm the most beautiful lady in the whole wide world. And when I ask him, do you feel alright, I want him to say, yes, I feel wonderful tonight.

I want to be the reason he feels wonderful.

I want to be the reason why he smiles at the end of an exhausting day.

And I'm sad.

Because how come I don't feel like I make him smile? How come I don't feel like I make him happy despite everyshittything that is life?

Sigh.

i'm going to shower. maybe it'll clear up all this... murky cobwebby cotton-fluff-stuck-in-your-throat feeling.

hai. :(

2006-02-28T06:51:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

PMS is bad this month. Very, very bad.

How can a man endure a big moodswing 12 times a year?

2006-02-19T14:51:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

They say love will conquer all. Was it 'will', or was it 'can'?

Once upon a time, I was unwavering sure of that too.

As I grow old and cynical, more and more I doubt that. I question that. My brushes with love ground me more and more to practicality.

Love shouldn't feel like that.

How can two people fight, then go to bed (and sleep), and wake up with the cloud still hanging over them? How can each of them not face a new day with new hopes?

How can I still get up and take a shower, using the shampoo that will make my hair soft and shiny, for him? How can I emerge from the shower, thinking how nice it'd be if he were here to smell my clean, fresh self?

I don't understand how I can close the fight when we hang up and go on as though my heart hasn't just a second ago been shattered into shards. Go on with my mundane routines, all the time thinking how he'd love this, or that, or everything.

It feels like going on belittles the fight. Like it wasn't important enough to wreck the rest of my day. Or paralyze me in bed with tears.

How can I do that when just a second ago we've staked each other hearts with wooden splinters?

What is wrong with me?

2006-02-16T09:18:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I realize that I am my life's narrator.

When I'm walking back, or when I'm anywhere alone, a voice comes up inside me and narrates everything as though I'm writing about the character me.

Like, it's cold. She huffs through the snow wondering why on earth she can never make it on time.

There're snowflakes in her hair and they look pretty. White on black. Only she's full of gray.

She feels the space in the new shoes and wished she bought a smaller size. Now her boots sloshes around in wet slushie snow and she can't walk properly because she's afraid her foot might come up without the shoe at the next step.

Or, she walks back alone in the night. The parking lot is deserted and quiet. She looks at the ground. Every step she takes makes the ground glitter. She wonders if she's just tired, or maybe someone had open a giant tube of glitter powder and splashed it on the ground.

Sometimes it drives me crazy. I wish sometimes that voice will just shut up and stop narrating every damned thing I see.

2006-02-12T13:26:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

What's your personality love style?

Here is the analysis:
You desire a love that will last forever. You are quite serious about finding this type of love, and that's why you think carefully about the men that you meet before deciding whether you could really love them. You don't just develop a crush on someone overnight: you look at a person's personality and other aspects of their life before deciding to form an attachment. If a guy doesn't meet your expectations, you would rather be alone. Your love has to be perfect. Be careful though, you could be missing out on some worthy relationships because your standards are so high.

Really? Haha.

2006-02-12T12:33:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Do men tend to go for women who are easier to fathom?

2006-02-08T06:52:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I've never wrote a breath about what happened. It was a situation, and anything I wrote rang like a defensive word in my head.

When a relationship ends badly, too often you are tempted to justify all the reasons why it would never have worked anyway. That this sour dissolution just goes to prove you right.

What happened between us, I believed I had ended it the best way I knew.

Long ago, someone broke my heart. It made me resolve never to leave like he did. It was childish, irresponsible, and cowardly. It takes courage to tell someone in person, that it's hopeless, you've lost faith, that you're sorry, that it's not going to work. That this is where it stops.

It was what would have been a good break-up, as oxymoronic as it sounds. But he couldn't accept my new life, that I'd move on, and his reactions and actions put a bitter poison in the fresh start.

I saw again, with clear renewed eyes, why I left.

Keeping silent always absolves one of responsibilities. It rejects even the courtesy of acknowledging they exist. They call, and you don't answer. Silence doesn't even grant them a response.

I kept quiet.

That silence ate me up. It hangs like a ghost around me. Permeating my new slate. You linger like an unwanted presence, an unpleasant perfume in the air.

Months on, now, I realized that I have been the irresponsible one. I had thought I put a nice, rounded full-stop to the chapter; but someone had turned it into a comma that I refused to acknowledge.

But this is still my book, and I'm still the writer of the chapter. And now I'm going to put the full-stop for myself and turn the page for good.

I realize that failed relationships are not at all like kissing bad toads.

I also realize that smearing failed relationships with constant reminders of his faults and errors and shortcomings is wrong. Trumpeting that it was bad does not absolve me of my participation.

I had been so intent and eager to build a home with my new love that I had trodden upon my past, ground them worthless, and dismissed it simply as a mistake.

I had been immature and selfish in my need to make my new love feel, loved. Cherished above all.

This is an apology that I owe at least myself. That I have discredited a good 2 years of my life and done it a great disservice. This is the last rose I'll place on the grave. I have said before, I'm closing the gates, and I'm not looking back. I hadn't then, in retrospect.

I had been aiming at a bed of roses, wrapping my tears, veiling the downs, to be happy and bouncy all the time, to justify my choice, to prove that I left for the better. I did, and I am happy. But it's only now that I realize, I don't have to prove it.

It is a heavy yolk, and I am now laying it down for good. I have been true to myself, and true to you. I am getting off this guilt-trip. I have not betrayed you. We have not betrayed you. Having hoped for months that you will realize this, and realizing that you're adamant about convincing yourself you were betrayed, that you are smearing your own name in my books, I am conceding defeat. You are not going to come around, and I have stopped hoping.

I realize that I have allowed to be put on a guilt-trip. It taints my new life. I feel sorry for something that I had not done. Pun intended.

It will relinquish its hold on me. I will unpry those grasping white knuckles and fingers, and bid the mine goodbye.

He deserves my whole heart--complete with wounds and battered scars. Shamelessly I will offer it to him now, yes. It completes the shiny, clean and smooth part that he has, that I've polished and shined so he wouldn't have to see, and deal, and hold, the ugly scars.

I have carried them with me, alone. Buried them in the deep recesses, and locked them in a closet.

I realize now that I have a right to be happy. To love again. To love anew.

I'm sorry that you have to go the rest of the way alone. I had trailed behind him, hoping you'll catch up and say goodbye and go on your way, but you persisted in digging a trench. This ostrich-obsession mars the good memories. I am trying hard. But this just about does it. I am exhausted.

Go on, live, and help me remember you well. Help me remember you were strong, and wise, and full of ideals. I don't want it etched in my mind, your weakness, your empty promises, your vehemence.

Unrealistic, I know. But all memories are snatches of reality glossed over, painted in rainbow hues and glazed in clear laquer. Some become obscure; some become idealistic illusions. But this is what I'd like, instead of the that monster lurks. This may even be reason more why we can't be--because even now, I can't accept that side of you. I don't even want to remember it. I want to remember you as someone I loved, as someone I fell for. Self-deluding--I even want to believe it doesn't exist, that volatile dark side.

So there. Good luck on that dusty road.

The dusty road is long, but I'm sure you'll find your way.

Au voir.

Ciao.

How do you say goodbye?

.

I have reclaimed myself, now. I am running, reaching for his outstretched hands and open arms. Here is my heart, love, bloody and fleshly, full of scars, but alive and pumping, and complete.

2006-02-08T06:10:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Things get cold fast in winter.

It snowed again today, and the trees are all laden down with snow like sugar-icing. Fresh snow gleams. And when you walk through them, they don't get dirty, because the whole place is carpeted with fresh snow.

It is pretty when it snows. But the biting wind rushes at you.

All things must be compensated, I suppose.

I'm in a pensive mood.

Watching him sleep is surreal. It's where I've been, so I smell the air in his room, hear the slow whirling fan, and feel the warmth of those sheets. I feel his slow, laboured breath. The steady rise and fall of his body. When I whisper in the mic, I almost think I'm whispering there in his ear.

My window casts a blue tint on everything outside.

2006-02-06T09:50:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

A balloon just needs a hair's breath hole to deflate.

Or a pin-size hole to burst.

2006-02-06T08:32:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I'm back from Guelph. Got a fabulous haircut.

And I found this. A website of homepages of little kids. Some are pretty cool and cute. Here.

2006-02-03T08:31:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Who Should Paint You: Roy Lichtenstein

Larger than life, your personality overshadows everyone in the room
A painter would tend to portray you with a bit of added flair!

What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?

BooHoo! I don't like Roy Lichenstein! He's too stark.

Maybe that implies I'M too stark.

2006-02-02T09:22:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

This is like Pay It Forward. The dude's in Canada too, we might even meet, though Canada's pretty big.

I loved that film, by the way. :)

2006-01-30T09:16:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I am horrified!!! I have done an 'overwrite' while backing up my stuff and now my photos are gone!!!!!!!!! OMG!!!! NO!!! :(:(:(

Our first malaysia trip to my grandparents place, and his virgin christmas with my family, and the performance, and the waterbomb galore... NOooooo!!!

2006-01-28T07:48:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I want
An open, uncensored, real relationship
Despite the old wives' tales.

2006-01-28T06:11:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I am anal about grammar. I am completely anal about people saying 'more easier' and 'more neater' and 'more busier'. Like, 'oh no, you don't do it like that, you do this way, it's more easier!', or, 'hey hey, she's more neater than you!', 'this is a more neater way to do it!', 'this is more cheaper!', and et cetera. I get so irritated with it. Sometimes I'll tell them, yeah, it's easier, I know. Or I'll say, is it really cheaper?

It's so annoying and snobbish, this attitude of mine, I know. But I really can't help it. I don't point it out, mostly, and it's not to say I speak/write perfect grammar. It's just that whenever it happens, it rakes across my nerve-endings.

At one point in my life, maybe in my adolescent years, I added "no bad English" to my checklist for potential-guy-dates in that very amateurish fashion.

You know how some things you read just sticks in your brain years and years and years after? Well, once I read this random thing that said, you know you don't care about this guy anymore when he's pleading with you to stay after you initiate a breakup, and all you can hear are his grammatical errors. It's so hilarious. I tested it out, in fact. Or maybe it was like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I know I was semi-dating this guy and I was trying to tell him that it's just not going to work out. I just don't like him in that way. And he was pleading with me and on the verge of tears and you could see all the emotions in his eyes, but all I heard were his horrendous grammar and syntax problems. That thing I read flashed neon in my head and I'm like, wow, so this is how it feels like. [[As to all the 'emotions in his eyes', I've always thought he followed a romance-formula-sheet, so I thought that was part of what he was doing, so I'm not being cruel here by snubbing his tears with my nitpicking of his English.]]

Anyways.

Check this out. I just took it.

[Taken in Waterloo, Canada.]

2006-01-28T05:42:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

Words are all good. They paint you a thousand pictures and take you down another thousand memory lanes. Of would-bes and what-ifs. And ah-that-had-been-the-times.

All you need is a picture to bring you back to earth. Ground you in reality.

Just one. It's enough to make you remember. To put that firm assurance of having done the right thing back on your lips.

2006-01-21T03:09:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

"Once in a lifetime."

That phrase plagues me. Ever since a certain time, when that phrase was flung back into my face, it has plagued me.

"But this is once in a lifetime!"

"A lot of things are 'once in a lifetime'. If that's going to be your justification for this, it's going to be your justification for a lot of things. 'Once in a lifetime'. There are too many things that are 'once in a lifetime'. It's too unsubstantial a reason."

I never, ever, used that phrase ever again. Ever. It struck, and stuck in me like... I don't know what. A spiked dagger? No, too much Freudian implications. Maybe it has struck and stuck and dulled, like a scar. But you never forget that tissue was once torn.

"This is once in a lifetime! You wanna _____________, you can do that back in Singapore! Come on, man. You're only here once in a lifetime!"

I think it's a sad lifetime, if I'm only going to be here 'once in a lifetime'.

It's true, what she flung back in my face. You can say 'once in a lifetime' for too many things. Your high-school prom? Your college prom? Graduation dinner?

Marriage?

Every birthday is once in a lifetime too.

"Once in a lifetime" is not reason enough for me, now, for unbridled indulgence, gluttony, splurging, and intoxication.

What is going on?

"Once in a lifetime."

How often do you say that?

2006-01-19T11:45:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

I absolutely hate postcolonial literature. I think it's a lot of pointless griping and nostalgia about the past and whinings about helpless dire situations. Basically I just see it as a lot of griping.

It's so freaking stupid. The expected materials. Asian. Africans. Everyone in between. Basically it's the whole #^$#!#$@$%@ world against the stupid Europeans. Gripe Gripe GRIPE. Always painting themselves as pitiful victims. Always painting the Europeans as evil white men. Always the same stupid stereotypes.

Maybe I'll just drop the stupid course. It is SO stupid. SO stupid. Some academics are good in the sense that they can divorce professional material away from their personal convictions and write pretty damn good papers about it. Well, I cannot. I simply cannot bring myself to type or even write a word about it something I don't even believe it.

No, not something that I don't believe in. Not only that. But something I don't even see a POINT in making a case for. What is the point of all this, really, is what I'm asking.

I don't buy it. I just don't buy it.

Stupid. I hate it. I hate the class. I hope it proves me wrong this week.

2006-01-19T10:53:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

There are really a lot of people in the world.

Some are just so incredibly stupid.

2006-01-17T09:49:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

[And yet another; more apt, to be sure.]

TROILUS
Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart,--

CRESSIDA
I true? How now, what wicked deem is this?

TROILUS
Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us.
I speak not 'Be thou true' as fearing thee,
For I will throw my glove to Death himself,
That there's no maculation in thy heart;
But 'Be thou true,' say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation: Be thou true,
And I will see thee.

CRESSIDA
O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent! But I'll be true.

TROILUS
And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve.

CRESSIDA [as they exchanged favours]
And you this glove. When shall I see you?

TROILUS
I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.

CRESSIDA
O heavens! 'Be true' again?

TROILUS
Hear why I speak it, love.
The Grecian youths are full of quality;
Their loving well composed with gifts of nature,
And flowing o'er with arts and exercise.
How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy--
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin--
Makes me afeard.

CRESSIDA
O heavens, you love me not!

TROILUS
Die I a villain then!
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games--fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant.
But I can tell that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil
That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted.

CRESSIDA
Do you think I will?

TROILUS
No.
But something may be done that we will not;
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.

[...]

TROILUS
Come, kiss; and let us part.

PARIS
[Within] Brother Troilus!

TROILUS [Calls out]
Good brother, come you hither;
And bring AEneas and the Grecian with you.

CRESSIDA
My lord, will you be true?

TROILUS
Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault:
Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit
Is 'plain and true;' there's all the reach of it.

2006-01-17T09:11:00.000+08:00

{-13hours for accurate posting time, Canada}

[Parting must be painful before reunion can be sweet.]

TROILUS
And suddenly, where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, jostles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath.
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious Time now with a robber's haste
Crams his rich thiev'ry up, he knows not how.
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu,
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.

I love this line. How more beautiful? "A single famished kiss,/Distasted with the salt of broken tears."...

2006-01-14T04:46:00.000+08:00

‘Tis most strange
Changing partners
Switching places
Strange how things such as these turn out
How come paths to cross and meet
How come paths to merge and split
How come meandering ways from foreign lands
To trickle at our feet

2006-01-12T09:31:00.000+08:00

this is a blog about my exchange stuff. most SEP updates will be there. there's only one entry there now, though. haha.

2006-01-08T14:04:00.000+08:00

Just got back from salsa, right. And I'm like, so friggin' tired. And they're not even done yet. Now they're just like, hangin' out and chattin'. I used to do that. You know, waste a lot of my time just sitting around, finding out tonnes about people I don't even know if I'll see again in a week or something.

Increasingly, I find myself less and less bothered with all that socializing crap. I mean, 'socializing sessions' like these are a way of sussing out the other person, mingling, la la la. I'm good at that. I'm just not interested anymore. Maybe it's because I'm outta the game, like, the 'dating game' kinda thing. I don't know. Well come to think of it, I've never been a groupie-cliquey-social-butterfly kinda person. I'm more, one-on-one. Always.

I don't know. I just think it's so pointless. So many permutations of characters and cultures squashed in a room or just okay, squashed together, for what, almost six hours? And I don't even know any one of them any better.

So anyway, the original plan was, WAS, that, I wouldn't even go. I was planning to tuck into my tonnes of great reads and start getting into all that studious act thing. So I was in the other block, getting illegal food (meatballs!) and then watching their stuff while they went upstairs la la la. So they came down, and I decided that maybe I'll go with them and get some photos from the other cameras. Only my thumbdrive wasn't with me, right, so I didn't feel like going la la la.

To cut the damn long story short, the two girls offered me their thumbdrives to get my photos. So we went. I went. It was supposed to be just salsa. I think we got there at what, seven-plus? We hung around aimlessly till like nine, some of them were eating, and I was playing cards. It was quite funny, like asshole-dai-dee. Well all because we couldn't get a room for salsa? Oh, the salsa's informal, by the way--like we met these two mexicans and they offered to teach us. Yadayadayada finally we got a room.

And we've been dancin' salsa since 9plus till like, 1130ish. And they were dallying, la la la, till like 12. And there's this ride back from the place, some free service from the school, which is at 1215. They were convinced we won't make it, cuz we've gotta get our stuff from one of the girls' place la la la, so they said they'll prob wait for the 0115 bus, which is like, WHAT? They stood around trying to decide, yeah, meanwhile doing all that chatting and mingling and la la la.

I CAN'T STAND IT. It's like midnight in Canada, but I really, really, !@%@&$#$%@@$#!. I got my friend's room key, got my stuff, returned her key, and headed back on my own. It was rather scary at first, I mean, Come On, it's midnight, it's snowy and foggy, and it's like a foreign country (you know I even thought about getting mugged), and I wasn't even sure of the way back.

Turns out the night's pretty young, still. In fact just a second ago there's this drunk screaming outside downstairs.

So that's today. Oh and we had a snowball fight in the day in a lovely neighbourhood. And salsa was good, actually. I danced with the mexican (lucky me!) and salsa's a really good dance to do with like, your sweetheart or something. Well actually most dances are. But salsa's quite fun.

Okay lah, I think it's quite, low-EQ or whatever of me to like head back on my own, like, not stay till the thing ends properly, and it's not typically what I do, but I really couldn't like stand the pointless waiting around.

Okay, end of griping. :D

2006-01-07T07:44:00.000+08:00

Ahhhh. Finally I have settled down. Somewhat, anyway. I can't decide if I wanna blog my exchange stuff here, or start a new blog for it. It's kinda like, a separate chapter kinda thing, so... I don't know. Plus, I'm probably gonna let a lot more people read my exchange-blog, especially my family and uncles, and cousins, la la la, so I wonder if it'll be a good idea to let them in here as well. It's kinda weird. But starting an 'exchange-blog' also means I'll probably be talking 'differently'--you know, more photos, happier, more excited, la la la, whilst here, it's like a private moment blog, so it tends to be more pensive and depressed. Ha, ha.

So, I don't know. How?

Oh, news flash though. Most exciting moment since I arrived is today: it snowed today! Finally! And it is really so, so, pretty. And dreamy. I didn't even mind the cold. :) I took a mini-video of it too! Not sure how to upload it here though. It's kinda mild when I took it, and later the snow got heavier (and more substantial), but my camera died. So. :(

But still. It snowed!

AND. I finally met a nice professor. His class shall henceforth be my favourite class! (Although it was actually already my more preferred class, so now it just got better!). :)

Things are looking up.