My dear little boy..
who used to smile so tenderly and tell me that the kaka is in his tumtum now,
so don't worry da jie.
who used to throw grass-confetti gaily for the cats to eat.
who wabbled "all i one for kwishmush iss haf eh tooowfth".
who's still scared of the dark, but damned if he'd ever admit it.
I am so very sorry.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Saturday, November 4, 2006
Jeez, i didn't realise embedding wasn't allowed. Here's the link for the Battle of the Bands vid, it's seriously worth watching. Someone had fun messing around with rock album covers.
"woman (pops head up):What the hell was that?
man (pushes head down):Nothing baby..."
I've been looking through my pics, tonnes of great ones, especially from arab streeting with eunice (the g-string one) and adiel, and halloween with evan, adiel, eunice (the moo moo one) and lynn. mebe during the boring lects next tuesday. halloween was fun, NO THANKS TO MOS. it was all thanks to the company, the dress-up, camwhoring. of which the pictures are many, many. and also many, many scandalous black mail material! hehehehe. i was thinking, with the pics i have, an "idiots guide to role-playing" is in order, since we had a sexxxy school teacher (who spanked!), a boooby she-devil, a not-at-all-innocent nurse, a cutie-pie japanese schoolgirl, a gorgeous showgirl and an eeeevil angel of death. no prize for guessing who i was.
school's been school, like grating the brains and straining the nerves. whee. :D
"woman (pops head up):What the hell was that?
man (pushes head down):Nothing baby..."
I've been looking through my pics, tonnes of great ones, especially from arab streeting with eunice (the g-string one) and adiel, and halloween with evan, adiel, eunice (the moo moo one) and lynn. mebe during the boring lects next tuesday. halloween was fun, NO THANKS TO MOS. it was all thanks to the company, the dress-up, camwhoring. of which the pictures are many, many. and also many, many scandalous black mail material! hehehehe. i was thinking, with the pics i have, an "idiots guide to role-playing" is in order, since we had a sexxxy school teacher (who spanked!), a boooby she-devil, a not-at-all-innocent nurse, a cutie-pie japanese schoolgirl, a gorgeous showgirl and an eeeevil angel of death. no prize for guessing who i was.
school's been school, like grating the brains and straining the nerves. whee. :D
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
it's been ages since my last post. much has happened. here are some excuses, off the top of my head:
i've been secretive
i've been lazy
i've been disinterested
i've been busy living
i woke up one morning and realised that i've been hypnotised into think that this, my secret identity, is actually my real life, and i'm actually buffy the VS, only now stuck in a world where there are no vampires (that vary in realistic-ness in proportion to the fluctuations of the budget for my show) to beat up with sass and style and worst still, NO SPIKE TO HAVE SIZZLING BANTER AND FATAL BUT STEAMY BRAWLS WITH!
and again i may i have revealed too much. eks.
but while we are on the topic, the biggest beef i had about BtVS was that in seven seasons that spanned over seven years, SMG could not find the time to learn how to throw a convincing punch. nevermind that her kicks are badass, owing mostly to gymnestic (nevermind the spelling) most probably. its just so basic, and simple, and vastly within their budget to get a trainer to gently break it to her that her daintly mini jabs lack any force or form, not to mention credibility, and then whip her into a believably athletic shape. i mean, just look at Eliza Dushku. i may whine about my figure, but i don't think stick thin is gorgeous either. plus Faith had a real nose.
so it's as if the last post of mortifying intensity has dried the well, murdered the muse, strangled all sordid delight and misplaced my willingness to do like barney and sharity and be overly generous with all my willy nilly business, and then be mocked, only unlike them, i won't be accused of being gay and premature, respectively.
lighter stuff:
remember the lounge pants i made from a superman tee shirt?
i saw this man's tee at hottopic.com, for US$3.50 (about S$10 after shipping and etc), and was thrown into serious internal strife. i needed soo bad to get the tee and make it into the rudest, most badass pants i would ever make, in the entire lifetime of my oft-pricked fingers.
here is the tee.
you should be happy for me i (barely) resisted. the above mentioned fingers tingled and twitched as wicked spasms flooded my mind, along with images of the mingled horror, amusement, grudging admiration and bemusement on the faces of my dearests.
school term begins later. surprisingly mixed feelings on it, now that its here. definitely not exactly what i gripped with adiel and eunice about at arab st while we had a grand time on friday, camwhored, shisha-ed, chilled, yakked and gossiped.
pics are being too lazy to go upload and edit themselves yet.
ta, miho.
i've been secretive
i've been lazy
i've been disinterested
i've been busy living
i woke up one morning and realised that i've been hypnotised into think that this, my secret identity, is actually my real life, and i'm actually buffy the VS, only now stuck in a world where there are no vampires (that vary in realistic-ness in proportion to the fluctuations of the budget for my show) to beat up with sass and style and worst still, NO SPIKE TO HAVE SIZZLING BANTER AND FATAL BUT STEAMY BRAWLS WITH!
and again i may i have revealed too much. eks.
but while we are on the topic, the biggest beef i had about BtVS was that in seven seasons that spanned over seven years, SMG could not find the time to learn how to throw a convincing punch. nevermind that her kicks are badass, owing mostly to gymnestic (nevermind the spelling) most probably. its just so basic, and simple, and vastly within their budget to get a trainer to gently break it to her that her daintly mini jabs lack any force or form, not to mention credibility, and then whip her into a believably athletic shape. i mean, just look at Eliza Dushku. i may whine about my figure, but i don't think stick thin is gorgeous either. plus Faith had a real nose.
so it's as if the last post of mortifying intensity has dried the well, murdered the muse, strangled all sordid delight and misplaced my willingness to do like barney and sharity and be overly generous with all my willy nilly business, and then be mocked, only unlike them, i won't be accused of being gay and premature, respectively.
lighter stuff:
remember the lounge pants i made from a superman tee shirt?
i saw this man's tee at hottopic.com, for US$3.50 (about S$10 after shipping and etc), and was thrown into serious internal strife. i needed soo bad to get the tee and make it into the rudest, most badass pants i would ever make, in the entire lifetime of my oft-pricked fingers.
here is the tee.
you should be happy for me i (barely) resisted. the above mentioned fingers tingled and twitched as wicked spasms flooded my mind, along with images of the mingled horror, amusement, grudging admiration and bemusement on the faces of my dearests.
school term begins later. surprisingly mixed feelings on it, now that its here. definitely not exactly what i gripped with adiel and eunice about at arab st while we had a grand time on friday, camwhored, shisha-ed, chilled, yakked and gossiped.
pics are being too lazy to go upload and edit themselves yet.
ta, miho.
Saturday, September 9, 2006
"a voucher for safekeeping somewhere in your mixtape,
keep it safe from her switchblade stilettos, laddymelove."
Here's an unusual post, out of my usual style of blogging. you may not like it.
By now you may have realised that i am leery of being intimate with the citizens of the world wide web. I wax lyrical on clothes, friends, books( have i yet?) and crafty bitty things, become profanial [sic =D] on school, work, family, and what have you's. But those of you in my life know that that is far from a genuine reflection of it. or genuine maybe the wrong word. call it just a reflection of sliver of my life. or whatever right.
So i was reflecting on that chancy business, choices. choices between paths that create many coloured futures. like a tree that blooms and unfurls flowers and leaves of a thousand different shapes, scents, colours and fates. one decision to be wary of a potentially volatile situation and its plotted escape. what could have happened if i weren't tired, sick of conflicts and committments and flighty at all those times when my judgement failed me?
in marketing terms, those are the oppotunity costs.
a cool and unfeeling term for a flighty, wiggly potential for regret in the choosing.
i have friends i greatly admire for their ability to truly never regret the shots they call as they come. those are the happy few, that never attempt to screw eyes at the back of their heads, so that they can moan and groan over what-if's and what-coulda-woulda-shoulda-have-been's, while at the same time gingerly negotiating the paths before them.
they are like racing horses with blinders on, if you would pardon the imagery. if you honestly don't see the shoulda's and coulda's, how can they possibly distract you and your nervous energies?
i was flipping through my real diary, which i usually refrain from doing more then twice a year. if you keep one yourself, you would understand that in my personal diaries, i can be ugly, bimbotic, a freak, silly, contempteous, girly, cold, ridiculous, rude, uncomprehensive, mean, gushy and immature. the list goes on.
the point is not to judge yourself, but be yourself, where ever you truly can be that honest to yourself. i do that by long walks, writing, crafts, runs, sketches, sewing, dancing and in the past, canoeing. whatever you do, my dear reader, that leaves you feeling the most naked, raw, sensational and freed, there you are, go say hey to yourself.
but i've gone off on a tangent. if you're still with me, congrats, stop for a coffee, stretch your legs, admire the pretty tattoo on the prim and proper ankle above. it's the only thing i like about this skin.
alrighty, where was i? oh yes, the delicious gossipy bit.
so yeah, lost chances, the many other paths that are closed to you with every path that you choose. here's an example close to my heart.
i met an ex-boyfriend from some years ago, in a very cliche coincidence, quite some time back. i got onto the bus, and the fellow standing next to me turns and says hey. figuring him for one of the usual nutcases the comes with public transport, i ignored him til he called me by name.
by my pet name.
in accordance with the cliche, i was at my most unglam, to the appearance of being the same helter-skelter, loud, uncouth and messy tomboy i used to be. call it comfy/drab school chic.
we hit it off.
the bus ride was half an hour long.
for half an hour, we didn't stop to breath as we talked. he had gone overseas to study, which makes the chance meeting all the more a miraculous cliche. the chemistry, the memories, the boy caught me by surprise, and time rolled back.
with a clench in my chest and my breath caught in my throat, i beheld the man before me. the real deal did not compare to the boy of my memories. studying overseas had matured him, time had softened his coltish angles. and when we brushed against each other, my skin sizzled.
and yet, he also proved himself to be a good friend, remembering details and snippets of people he left behind in singapore and asking after them and me.
when we got off the bus at the same stop, we walked for a bit, dragging our feet while talking trivialities. when we reached the place where he was to turn aside.
we paused. in the first awkward moment that marred our chance meeting, we didn't know what to do. how do you behave at this point? a casual, g'byee, see ya around while you're in singapore? an offhanded joke about wierd fate? a hopeful, let's go for coffee sometimes?
we separated, and i tried, oh so hard, not to watch him walk away, not to look at all distressed. cool, calm and collected, as Jo March would say. We didn't exchange numbers. In my inner confusion, i forgot.
a few weeks ago today, i stumbled upon pictures of him and his new girlfriend that he posted online.
who's to say if this was an incident that heralded regret? who's to say that i could have been braver, could have found some way to keep in touch with him during his brief visit to singapore? or that i had let slip what the workings of chance and fate had done to present another oppotunity?
and even if there was regret, would it be regret for a good friend lost again, or a relationship left unexplored for a chance at rekindling?
many months on, i'm still left wondering myself.
i think that my point in this messy entry is that snippet i found in my diary, dated 1st of January 2005.
and i think i'm renewing that resolution, to always choose the path that may be less certain, but is sure to be loaded with fresh adventures.
and no, i did not have cheese and corns for lunch :D
*yes, the horrible chance that he may be reading this too did occur to me. but our relationship was plagued with things left unsaid, silence where honest talk was urgent and misunderstandings from a lack of courage to be the first to admit that whatever we had then was more then a game. no more.
keep it safe from her switchblade stilettos, laddymelove."
Here's an unusual post, out of my usual style of blogging. you may not like it.
By now you may have realised that i am leery of being intimate with the citizens of the world wide web. I wax lyrical on clothes, friends, books( have i yet?) and crafty bitty things, become profanial [sic =D] on school, work, family, and what have you's. But those of you in my life know that that is far from a genuine reflection of it. or genuine maybe the wrong word. call it just a reflection of sliver of my life. or whatever right.
So i was reflecting on that chancy business, choices. choices between paths that create many coloured futures. like a tree that blooms and unfurls flowers and leaves of a thousand different shapes, scents, colours and fates. one decision to be wary of a potentially volatile situation and its plotted escape. what could have happened if i weren't tired, sick of conflicts and committments and flighty at all those times when my judgement failed me?
in marketing terms, those are the oppotunity costs.
a cool and unfeeling term for a flighty, wiggly potential for regret in the choosing.
i have friends i greatly admire for their ability to truly never regret the shots they call as they come. those are the happy few, that never attempt to screw eyes at the back of their heads, so that they can moan and groan over what-if's and what-coulda-woulda-shoulda-have-been's, while at the same time gingerly negotiating the paths before them.
they are like racing horses with blinders on, if you would pardon the imagery. if you honestly don't see the shoulda's and coulda's, how can they possibly distract you and your nervous energies?
i was flipping through my real diary, which i usually refrain from doing more then twice a year. if you keep one yourself, you would understand that in my personal diaries, i can be ugly, bimbotic, a freak, silly, contempteous, girly, cold, ridiculous, rude, uncomprehensive, mean, gushy and immature. the list goes on.
the point is not to judge yourself, but be yourself, where ever you truly can be that honest to yourself. i do that by long walks, writing, crafts, runs, sketches, sewing, dancing and in the past, canoeing. whatever you do, my dear reader, that leaves you feeling the most naked, raw, sensational and freed, there you are, go say hey to yourself.
but i've gone off on a tangent. if you're still with me, congrats, stop for a coffee, stretch your legs, admire the pretty tattoo on the prim and proper ankle above. it's the only thing i like about this skin.
alrighty, where was i? oh yes, the delicious gossipy bit.
so yeah, lost chances, the many other paths that are closed to you with every path that you choose. here's an example close to my heart.
i met an ex-boyfriend from some years ago, in a very cliche coincidence, quite some time back. i got onto the bus, and the fellow standing next to me turns and says hey. figuring him for one of the usual nutcases the comes with public transport, i ignored him til he called me by name.
by my pet name.
in accordance with the cliche, i was at my most unglam, to the appearance of being the same helter-skelter, loud, uncouth and messy tomboy i used to be. call it comfy/drab school chic.
we hit it off.
the bus ride was half an hour long.
for half an hour, we didn't stop to breath as we talked. he had gone overseas to study, which makes the chance meeting all the more a miraculous cliche. the chemistry, the memories, the boy caught me by surprise, and time rolled back.
with a clench in my chest and my breath caught in my throat, i beheld the man before me. the real deal did not compare to the boy of my memories. studying overseas had matured him, time had softened his coltish angles. and when we brushed against each other, my skin sizzled.
and yet, he also proved himself to be a good friend, remembering details and snippets of people he left behind in singapore and asking after them and me.
when we got off the bus at the same stop, we walked for a bit, dragging our feet while talking trivialities. when we reached the place where he was to turn aside.
we paused. in the first awkward moment that marred our chance meeting, we didn't know what to do. how do you behave at this point? a casual, g'byee, see ya around while you're in singapore? an offhanded joke about wierd fate? a hopeful, let's go for coffee sometimes?
we separated, and i tried, oh so hard, not to watch him walk away, not to look at all distressed. cool, calm and collected, as Jo March would say. We didn't exchange numbers. In my inner confusion, i forgot.
a few weeks ago today, i stumbled upon pictures of him and his new girlfriend that he posted online.
who's to say if this was an incident that heralded regret? who's to say that i could have been braver, could have found some way to keep in touch with him during his brief visit to singapore? or that i had let slip what the workings of chance and fate had done to present another oppotunity?
and even if there was regret, would it be regret for a good friend lost again, or a relationship left unexplored for a chance at rekindling?
many months on, i'm still left wondering myself.
i think that my point in this messy entry is that snippet i found in my diary, dated 1st of January 2005.
"my new year's resolution: I am going to live this year with balls of steel!"
and i think i'm renewing that resolution, to always choose the path that may be less certain, but is sure to be loaded with fresh adventures.
and no, i did not have cheese and corns for lunch :D
*yes, the horrible chance that he may be reading this too did occur to me. but our relationship was plagued with things left unsaid, silence where honest talk was urgent and misunderstandings from a lack of courage to be the first to admit that whatever we had then was more then a game. no more.
Thursday, September 7, 2006
Saturday, September 2, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Chuck Norris does not knit. He bangs the table, and the shockwaves force the yarn to create clothing.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Saturday, August 5, 2006
paisley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
as much as i try to teach all the little ickle persons i know that the f-word is a sign of stupidity and laziness to think of better, more honestly descriptive words, and religiously curse 'basket' and 'pickled bananas' in their presence to set the obligatory example... you and i know that's total BS.
Fuck is the most eloquent word possible that this moment.
the crushing stress, the inability to rant in a public domain, the need to express the frustration while being unable to rant in a public domain, the itch to mouth off about this eloquent need to express the frustration while being unable to rant in a public domain, the... well you get the picture.
thus, let me tirade in such a way that everyone will sympathize, empathize, identify and hug with me.
fuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.
strange, but i seem to be blogging more now that i am busystressedbusystressed and need the procrastination avenue slash ranting ground. tee heh.
as much as i try to teach all the little ickle persons i know that the f-word is a sign of stupidity and laziness to think of better, more honestly descriptive words, and religiously curse 'basket' and 'pickled bananas' in their presence to set the obligatory example... you and i know that's total BS.
Fuck is the most eloquent word possible that this moment.
the crushing stress, the inability to rant in a public domain, the need to express the frustration while being unable to rant in a public domain, the itch to mouth off about this eloquent need to express the frustration while being unable to rant in a public domain, the... well you get the picture.
thus, let me tirade in such a way that everyone will sympathize, empathize, identify and hug with me.
fuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.
strange, but i seem to be blogging more now that i am busystressedbusystressed and need the procrastination avenue slash ranting ground. tee heh.
Friday, August 4, 2006
the psychology of favorite pens.
i hate losing my fave pens.
creative journal down.
school tuition fees article down.
PR case study down.
Spammers article down.
on the to do list.
by the weekend
np idol article. im annoyed that i'd have to pay $8 for something i despise. the (pseudo) press should get in free!
silat article. die la, they wont answer my emails.
possibly dancesport article.
ba lec day article.
next week and etc
Radio talkshow. still no reply on my interviewee. please, please don't continue my track record of flakey interviewees.
web d ezine.
PR final plan.
PR exam.
Comm Iss exam.
tutor my bro.
new job.
i think im still missing something somehow..
caught with the Best Friend for ben & jerry's. can't remember anything as sparkly pinky as that in the fuzzy work haze that is my entire week. im being incredibly irritable and short tempered with everyone now. and everytime i flare up it annoys me that im that weak, and that's just adding bloody fuel to the fire. next victim please.
when this is all over, im going to grab my books, my mp3 player and my fuzzy jacket and read at all my favorite reading alone places that i never share. before that, i'd sleep for a week, only waking up for movie marathorns of all the movies i missed.
i hate losing my fave pens.
creative journal down.
school tuition fees article down.
PR case study down.
Spammers article down.
on the to do list.
by the weekend
np idol article. im annoyed that i'd have to pay $8 for something i despise. the (pseudo) press should get in free!
silat article. die la, they wont answer my emails.
possibly dancesport article.
ba lec day article.
next week and etc
Radio talkshow. still no reply on my interviewee. please, please don't continue my track record of flakey interviewees.
web d ezine.
PR final plan.
PR exam.
Comm Iss exam.
tutor my bro.
new job.
i think im still missing something somehow..
caught with the Best Friend for ben & jerry's. can't remember anything as sparkly pinky as that in the fuzzy work haze that is my entire week. im being incredibly irritable and short tempered with everyone now. and everytime i flare up it annoys me that im that weak, and that's just adding bloody fuel to the fire. next victim please.
when this is all over, im going to grab my books, my mp3 player and my fuzzy jacket and read at all my favorite reading alone places that i never share. before that, i'd sleep for a week, only waking up for movie marathorns of all the movies i missed.
Thursday, August 3, 2006
wild horses
...because when i am this stressed, even magazines are devastating to my overworked braincells. they protest. they are not even circular anymore, they look like miniature copies of The Scream except only they are not reacting to the despair of nature's screaming, they are reacting the evil, evil bitch in charge. and they are triangular. they are right now in cahoots with the muscle cells in my pulsing ankle to try mutinying. they are morphing into mini needles to prickle incessantly at my head.
thinking hurts.
because cropping off your hair is a little bit ruinious to what little girliness that i have..
i always suspected that i was not a proper pisces... but this? woo hooo baby, i sound so good!
...because when i am this stressed, even magazines are devastating to my overworked braincells. they protest. they are not even circular anymore, they look like miniature copies of The Scream except only they are not reacting to the despair of nature's screaming, they are reacting the evil, evil bitch in charge. and they are triangular. they are right now in cahoots with the muscle cells in my pulsing ankle to try mutinying. they are morphing into mini needles to prickle incessantly at my head.
thinking hurts.
| What Guys Think of Your Short Hair... |
 Superconfident, independent, party girl. The kind of girl he pines over - while secretly wondering if you want him back. |
because cropping off your hair is a little bit ruinious to what little girliness that i have..
| Your True Sign Is Aquarius |
 Rebellious Cutting Edge A Total Freak Unconventional Difficult to Predict Breaking All The Rules Independent and Inventive |
i always suspected that i was not a proper pisces... but this? woo hooo baby, i sound so good!
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
writing to reach you
"Miho, I'm thinking of replacing the toilet with a fan..."
"Erm Ma... i really think we really need the toilet more."
happened, no lie.
occasionally, even my mommy dearest can be bimbolically cute.
there are no pictures of mommy dearest head on, because she is incredibly camera shy, or smiles the sadweird that makes her look stern and old, but used to hide her old buck teeth that scarred her childhood.
you won't believe how happy she was the day she got braces. makes me so happy i helped.
----------------------------------
okay, whimsy moment over. back to the killer workload. 26 days to go, you tensed, stressed, unsmiley people.
pretty eventful last week. summary of major stuff: sprained foot (half recovered by now, enough to walk around pretty normally), major flu, fist fight, missed lessons (!!!), injured laptop badly, my brother... actually the rest is none of your business. suffice to say it's bad.
that fms 100th day party is starting to sound like a good idea, abeit a too farfarfar away to imagine kinda good idea. plus i missed the juice dj event that i had free tix to. damn. it's going to be at fort canning. poptart know. dancing know. adiel knows how much i adore dancing. eunice caught me doing something embarrassing while dancing. dancing makes miho a very, very happy girl. not to mention im hoping to convince yan cheng that this does not constitutes clubbing and since there is no alcohol involved (right?), she should come. adiel ah, never needs convincing to pah-tay.
if i decide to go... :)
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Your Pitiful.
Your dose of random today.
When I grow up and have kids, I’d tell them that the freckles on their faces are angel kisses.
When they grow smart and ask me dubiously where did my facial moles come from?
I’d tell them the angels just kissed me harder.
And then they would grow up with a different set of trauma then I did.
But that would be okay.
Because I still wouldn’t have made the mistakes my parents did.
School is driving us all mass commers hard. The brakes were broken once we came close to finishing half of polytechnic. Now there’s nothing to do but to go faster and faster, drive harder and harder.
Or crash and burn, as it were.
What a pretty way of describing an uglyfunny situation, no?
Don't worry me luvvies, us lumberjacks will bugger back to adorin' each one and another again. savvy?
Your dose of random today.
When I grow up and have kids, I’d tell them that the freckles on their faces are angel kisses.
When they grow smart and ask me dubiously where did my facial moles come from?
I’d tell them the angels just kissed me harder.
And then they would grow up with a different set of trauma then I did.
But that would be okay.
Because I still wouldn’t have made the mistakes my parents did.
School is driving us all mass commers hard. The brakes were broken once we came close to finishing half of polytechnic. Now there’s nothing to do but to go faster and faster, drive harder and harder.
Or crash and burn, as it were.
What a pretty way of describing an uglyfunny situation, no?
Don't worry me luvvies, us lumberjacks will bugger back to adorin' each one and another again. savvy?
Wednesday, July 5, 2006
Warm Smell of Colitas
Beckham has resigned as captain. as i don't seem to function like a normal woman, i hate his diamond-studded, nails-manicuring guts. to me he is part of that exculsive club with the words "slap me" written in invisible ink across his smirking forehead.
foreheads can't smirk you say? well my dearies, that's what makes them doubly annoying, don't you see?
THEIR foreheads can.
so that lifted the letargy for a moment.
the world cup has entirely lost its flavour. my fave joga bonito-playing team is out. my fave team to scorn at (england: hah, invented the sodding game did ya? bollocks to you mates!) is out. shall i jump on the portugal bandwagon, and abandon my 2 Fifa long love affair with brazil?
Anyone needing tickets to Cocolate this weekend, email eisforevie@gmail.com please. she has tix for $12, for entry and a drink. she'd love u forever if u get the damn tix off of her :)
my hair is annoying me. i shall mohawk it.
YC told me that there was this charity event for cancer, where they have u shave it all off. and for a happy moment i imagine the weightlessness, the slaphappy shiny baldiness. like richard's new do. tee hee. and i think, yeah, skinhead's the way for me.
and then i saw a girl flipping her long hair. that one might have been sel. yeah, it was sel. and i was convinced to finally grow it out.
this was a pointless entry written as i was trying to brainstorm a newsangle for that pointless press conference we had. GR.
Beckham has resigned as captain. as i don't seem to function like a normal woman, i hate his diamond-studded, nails-manicuring guts. to me he is part of that exculsive club with the words "slap me" written in invisible ink across his smirking forehead.
foreheads can't smirk you say? well my dearies, that's what makes them doubly annoying, don't you see?
THEIR foreheads can.
so that lifted the letargy for a moment.
the world cup has entirely lost its flavour. my fave joga bonito-playing team is out. my fave team to scorn at (england: hah, invented the sodding game did ya? bollocks to you mates!) is out. shall i jump on the portugal bandwagon, and abandon my 2 Fifa long love affair with brazil?
Anyone needing tickets to Cocolate this weekend, email eisforevie@gmail.com please. she has tix for $12, for entry and a drink. she'd love u forever if u get the damn tix off of her :)
my hair is annoying me. i shall mohawk it.
YC told me that there was this charity event for cancer, where they have u shave it all off. and for a happy moment i imagine the weightlessness, the slaphappy shiny baldiness. like richard's new do. tee hee. and i think, yeah, skinhead's the way for me.
and then i saw a girl flipping her long hair. that one might have been sel. yeah, it was sel. and i was convinced to finally grow it out.
this was a pointless entry written as i was trying to brainstorm a newsangle for that pointless press conference we had. GR.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
i wear this crown of thorns, upon my liar's chair.
Superman returns trailer
Superman Returns Trailer
i won free tix to the SUPERMAN RETURNS PREVIEW!
its on tuesday evening, so i'm rushing down after school with fananabananachiwawa (sorry, don't know what hit me) and i can hardly wait. though i'm not a fan, i'm typically broke as hell (read on to be unsurprised why), and free is fun!
what say you i cut my hair like that? sick of current do, too much fuss and suddenly its a trend. the aeon flux-like do, not the messylazy in between haircuts do. i had it before the movie but most think its vice versa.
lost half my music collection when shuffling music around to create the 15% of empty space needed for the hard drive to defrag. that means artists "B" through to "M" is gone. 
hello, i'm johnny cash. goodbye, laptop.
plus it was all in vain, since i was under the impression that defrag-ing your computer would compress the files and get rid of the loose ends, and creating more space. didn't happen.
on hindsight, this was a pretty bimbolic, girlygirl entry. *GASP!*
please, please, please send music to me...
Superman returns trailer
Superman Returns Trailer
i won free tix to the SUPERMAN RETURNS PREVIEW!
its on tuesday evening, so i'm rushing down after school with fananabananachiwawa (sorry, don't know what hit me) and i can hardly wait. though i'm not a fan, i'm typically broke as hell (read on to be unsurprised why), and free is fun!
hello, i'm pretty pixie girl off the net.
what say you i cut my hair like that? sick of current do, too much fuss and suddenly its a trend. the aeon flux-like do, not the messylazy in between haircuts do. i had it before the movie but most think its vice versa.
lost half my music collection when shuffling music around to create the 15% of empty space needed for the hard drive to defrag. that means artists "B" through to "M" is gone.
GONE!
micheal jackson, mozella, bon jovi, beatles, elvis's special laughing lonesome tonight track, cat stevens, danny elfman, electrio, concrete blond, fall out boy, black maria, jack's manniquin, gabrielle, eagles(omg! hotel california! nooooooo!), guns n roses, lynyrd skynyrd, bangles, johnny cash, cranberries, the darkness, ciara, keane, the killers, martine mccutcheon & mccbride and etc and etc and sundry not properly named tracks. it's a huge blow i tell you.
hello, i'm johnny cash. goodbye, laptop.plus it was all in vain, since i was under the impression that defrag-ing your computer would compress the files and get rid of the loose ends, and creating more space. didn't happen.
fuck that.
spent too much on online shopping. not good. went to the crazzyyy MNG sale, after leaving empty-handed and feeling full of virtue and self control the first time, went back the next day like an addict breaking through the dam of cold turkey.
spent even more. really not good.
in consolation, i'm gonna look good broke. at least after the stuff arrives in singapore.
school starts in two days. i'm not done bumming around!!
on hindsight, this was a pretty bimbolic, girlygirl entry. *GASP!*
please, please, please send music to me...
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
karma vs. drama..
hahaha, i apologize to everyone i insulted in my pre-blogging days!
i remember how i used to rant and rant about all the ways blogging is superficial, egocentric, bimbolic and you guys know what else.
after which i fell for the charm of blogging and made myself a blog. no one made it too difficult for me (meaning there were less "i toldja so"s and scoldings and such then i expected, surprising, especially since i was all defensive and shit).
the reason we're on this topic? a close friend, previously featured in here, was really vocal against me blogging. she even refused to be told the address for it. whenever another friend who reads my blog talked about some random stuff i put up, she'd clam up. it was the sort of speaking silence that annoys me to death, even though i knew she was trying to avoid conflict by keeping her opinions to herself. that kind of "i don't know la, let's not talk about it la" attitude grates on my nerves, because unless you are amazing at maintaining a mask for appearance's sake, it fucking shows. affected casualness is an oxymoron for extremely obvious reasons.
now, seeing as most of my friends tried not to judge me, i should restrain my ire and my "toldja so"s. and that's what i'd do too, even though she flaunts her bloggeringness as if she doesn't remember ever judging me. it's all so very karma vs. drama.
hahha, as annoyed as i am, i'm really equal parts amused at my aggravation. it all comes full circle, doesn't it?
well on to more cheerful topics. i hung out a lot with my holiday best friend, scheming to stay out of our homes on scholarly pretences like "projects", having rockin' good times, and amusing ourselves and any passerbys with our crazy antics. i should remember to take pics next time.
oh, and a note i left behind yesterday for my mom was hilariously desecrated by my siblings. here it is, for your amusement!
hahaha, i apologize to everyone i insulted in my pre-blogging days!
i remember how i used to rant and rant about all the ways blogging is superficial, egocentric, bimbolic and you guys know what else.
after which i fell for the charm of blogging and made myself a blog. no one made it too difficult for me (meaning there were less "i toldja so"s and scoldings and such then i expected, surprising, especially since i was all defensive and shit).
the reason we're on this topic? a close friend, previously featured in here, was really vocal against me blogging. she even refused to be told the address for it. whenever another friend who reads my blog talked about some random stuff i put up, she'd clam up. it was the sort of speaking silence that annoys me to death, even though i knew she was trying to avoid conflict by keeping her opinions to herself. that kind of "i don't know la, let's not talk about it la" attitude grates on my nerves, because unless you are amazing at maintaining a mask for appearance's sake, it fucking shows. affected casualness is an oxymoron for extremely obvious reasons.
now, seeing as most of my friends tried not to judge me, i should restrain my ire and my "toldja so"s. and that's what i'd do too, even though she flaunts her bloggeringness as if she doesn't remember ever judging me. it's all so very karma vs. drama.
hahha, as annoyed as i am, i'm really equal parts amused at my aggravation. it all comes full circle, doesn't it?
well on to more cheerful topics. i hung out a lot with my holiday best friend, scheming to stay out of our homes on scholarly pretences like "projects", having rockin' good times, and amusing ourselves and any passerbys with our crazy antics. i should remember to take pics next time.
oh, and a note i left behind yesterday for my mom was hilariously desecrated by my siblings. here it is, for your amusement!
i'm pretty sure you can guess which is my lil' brother (blue) and my sister (black). they're cuter then i'd admit to on a typical day, my little rascals :)
i was surfing some shopping sites the other day, and came across this skirt.
can't remember which website to cite. anyway, i'm so sure i could easily sew this, with just a little figuring out. jeans are tooo uncomfy in our hot weather. but i don't have the boring sort of fabric for a skirt :( would you buy dull grey/brown/black fabric, when the superduper cute purple mouse and cheese print is screaming out to you? hahaha, thought not.
well, if you see me next with that skirt on, I MADE IT!!!!
Monday, June 19, 2006
All my black t-shirts were dirty.
it is still very disconcerting to be told in all casualness that I don't like so-and-so. it would not be only the dozenth time i was mislabeled, or rumoured to detest an aquaintance for whom i claim a faint affection towards. how much neater my life would be, if so-and-so were to pluck up the courage and confront me with the rumour, so that i can tell you straight up my undiluted opinions of idle, harmful gossips and what i wish they'd do with a pack of hungry rats and a customised cage around their fucking privates.
oh yeah. mm hmm. that does make me feel better.
it is still very disconcerting to be told in all casualness that I don't like so-and-so. it would not be only the dozenth time i was mislabeled, or rumoured to detest an aquaintance for whom i claim a faint affection towards. how much neater my life would be, if so-and-so were to pluck up the courage and confront me with the rumour, so that i can tell you straight up my undiluted opinions of idle, harmful gossips and what i wish they'd do with a pack of hungry rats and a customised cage around their fucking privates.
oh yeah. mm hmm. that does make me feel better.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
tree silhouettes against twilight skies.
Friday, May 12, 2006
gimme some jazz fingers, sugar. jazz fingers dammit!
gummy candy earrings that are totally drop-proof! (tested.)
made another pair of earrings, it's pretty simple. can't decide whether to keep them for my own (so candydandy and big and swingy!) or sell 'em (soo cute, need the $$, got too many earrings, can always make more anyway, but argh, what if no one buys them?) so i havent worn them, only hung them up to ponder over. i've made abt 15 0r so others actually, and since i'm still considering if i want them for my own or to sell them, i can't wear them and they just sit in a huddle in my pretty girl guides cookies tin and resent me for being such a procrastinating greedy pig.
oh yes, i have school to whine about. work to do, project meetings to brainstorm in, research to do, a test tomorrow morning for newswriting to start preparing for, on saturday, for sanity's sake. ah, and then sentosa after that with my ol' school mates and mi:3 after that.
hung out today with F. she be bugging me to bangkok with her in july for crazy girly shopping fun. i am slowly being convinced that it's not that crazy after all. here i thought it was just gonna be one of those things we have fun planning for but never go through doing. $115 for budget return tix to bangkok baby!
dream shorts
i want this pair of Johnson shorts. its not even available in singapore, but i want it baddd. f21 had something similar but it wasn't close enough!
it's a tie!
i was watching amazing race an hour or so earlier because my azurus is down, probably because it's had enough of me trying to be a tech geek and meddling with its settings. the guy in the help chatroom gave up on me too. anyway, this guy in the amazing race was wearing this tee. i thought when i saw it online a couple of months back that it'd look damn nice. but it only made him look really gay and corny!
im rambling. let's end with a pic from way back.
just like a family portrait.
my eyes look washed out cos i thought grey contacts were cool and all vampy goth a few months back. now i know better, its only washedout chic. heheh.
Monday, May 8, 2006
movie credits
movie credits.
i feel uneasy and shaken by how volatile my feelings are.
i should be above this.
it was merely a...
i shouldn't be so overwrought, so vehement and sadistic..
but it burns. how it burns, burns, burns.
it could have been more heaven then a heart can hold.
there's so much i wish i said. how cliche.
oh, how far i've fallen, from the jade the exhe called me once. but that's neither here nor there.
it's to be a lonely night ahead for me. good.
it's so inexplicable sometimes...
sometimes.. i can't name what i'm brooding over.
but sometimes..
sometimes, there's so much that is wrong,
that shouldn't be wrong, wouldn't have been wrong,
can not help but be wrong..
it helps to flush some of that toxicity out by scratching your heart out in a real journal,
a primitive mindnumbing joy of stream of consciousness that blends ink and furious energy on that flimsy, flighty, happy medium, paper.
yes it does.
but sometimes it isn't enough.
so here i am.
it has to be admitted,
abeit grudgingly by one who instinctively shrinks from being this naked,
that there is a certain surging, nay purging release from confessing ugliness to an unknown, often indifferent and unexpected audience,
in however cryptic a message. hah. the dubious joys of blogging.
one comfort never deserts me.
two actually. solitude. music. my books.
food for my soul, all.
that's three. doesn't matter.
i love my friends, there are some who'd be with me in a heartbeat for this.. but i'd be inclined to laugh this off instead.
often i'm happiest flying solo.
many would find that strange, pitiful. i'm indifferent.
that... affair... shouldn't matter to me either.
by the end of this night, i hope that little chant will properly take root, more's the relief for it.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Advocate T-shirt wisdom. Join T-shirtism.
im craving beer.
if you're one of those i've been seeing alot this hols, you're probably sick of anything i say that begins with "when i was in chaingmai .."
but the beer there was so fucking cheap, i was drinking practically everyday. and that was mild, compared to some people, aye? yall know who yall are. :)
did u know they had a beer called "Seven Sexy Leo Girls" ? it sounds like a wannabe girl rock band, but too cute. its such a dorky thing to do, but i brought an empty can of it home as a memento. it sits on my table next to the minibottle of lumbago (snicker!) snake wine, very much worse for the wear, probably the cause of the sick crunch i heard when i sat on my luggage to zip it shut.
i REALLY miss cheap beer. and rockin' out and bootyshakin' to good music at C Bar. and the hothotHOT spanish lead singer, who told me my name in spanish means "my beloved son", which really pleased me to no end. afterall, i used to be the scruffy tomboy who'd terrify boys into hiding in the school boy's toilet in primary school. no lie, i swear on Kaka. :)
some pics from our night at German Brewery in Chaingmai, where the beer and food was GREAT and cheap, and the music of choice was Tata Young in Concert. excuse our overly sloppy dressing, i had just bought that top (5 smackeroos!) and had to wear it.
beer makes adiel strong:) i'm missing them and the Koomers badly. i'd see them soon in school, but you dont get over 24X14=you do the math companions that easily. but i do not miss the three times champion pissed drunk qing. we had to take care of her, and she NEVER stops even when you say "alright qingy, i don't wanna lug your drunken ass home, that's your last one, you hear?"
that thing is snake wine, and rather irrelavant actually.
in other news, the producers was laggy, but a riot to watch, even/especially with a fanana grumpy 'cause i woke her up at 9am after trying to sleep the entire night. we window shopped, and we did our thing, bitchy people-watching, at our fave spot for it! i drew this sign in chilli sauce to rate some of the terrible dressers. heheh!
oh and by the way, i won a brand new "Failure To Launch" movie poster in an online contest i barely remember entering. it's the first time i've ever won any contests, so you'd think i'm more excited.
well, not being a fan, but just greedy for freebies, i'm selling the poster. there's a tee shirt too, which i cant decide whether or not to keep. but POSTER FOR SALE! quote me a FAIR price and i'd consider kay? needless to say, highest bidder wins. it's double-sided by the way, collector's value there.
BUY THIS POSTER FROM ME!!!
BUY THIS POSTER FROM ME!!!
potential buyers, please tag, or email me at jaded_source@hotmail.com :)
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me.
hello world. its 4.22am. here's how i spend the last 5 or so hours.
Almost Famous was on tv a week or so ago. i was exhausted that, so i asked my mom to tape it for me. i finally got round to watching it, but was spluttering curses (quietly, because at the unholy hour of 1 am, the iwaki household just needs an excuse to be roused. so i hissed, more like.) because i got cut off just as it was getting to the good part.
GRRR. switch on laptop, start a download of almost famous. avoid spreeing sites, cause am seriously killing myself down that road. money goes out, none comes in 'cause silly i wanted to do something different this time, and also a few promised jobs did not deliver. coughangie. coughben. coughcoughCOUGH! oh how very subtle..
so than i was listening to Bohemian Rhapsody over and over again. everyone knows that song. no introduction necessary.
i looove the drama of it, but after the 23rd or so time, i was getting reflective. not good. 'cause after reflection come, you know it, brooding, and then ta-freaking-dah, emo.
so i took it off repeat, and still being in the mood for some Queen, put all my Queen songs on shuffle. Love Of My Life plays. it yanks at my heartstrings. GRR. next.
well than boys and girls, i'd set you the scene.
it is in the middle of the night, 4am thereabouts. you are in your comfiest FBTs and oversized jersy, or whatever rocks your boat, the debris of late night binging scattered around you.
silence, apart from the music from your headphones.
one lone light over you in the living room, everything else in darkness in deferrence to your kind mom's complains that your insomnia is shooting the electricity bill sky high.
your irritatable, noisy family's snug in their rooms.
like me, you might as soon flap your hand at the dark, especially when you're in the safety of your home. you're feeling pretty good from the good strong dose of music. a little doozy, because you are wrecking your sleep patterns after all, but it's all still good.
still at this point...
you really would not like The Invisible Man to come on, without ample warning!
unless you have nerves of steel, in which case i am dreadfully envious, you may end up like me, tumbled on the floor in squealing, scrambling panic like someone just yanked the chair out from under me.
freakin' hell!! you may laugh, but wait til you try it for yourself!
hello world. its 4.22am. here's how i spend the last 5 or so hours.
Almost Famous was on tv a week or so ago. i was exhausted that, so i asked my mom to tape it for me. i finally got round to watching it, but was spluttering curses (quietly, because at the unholy hour of 1 am, the iwaki household just needs an excuse to be roused. so i hissed, more like.) because i got cut off just as it was getting to the good part.
GRRR. switch on laptop, start a download of almost famous. avoid spreeing sites, cause am seriously killing myself down that road. money goes out, none comes in 'cause silly i wanted to do something different this time, and also a few promised jobs did not deliver. coughangie. coughben. coughcoughCOUGH! oh how very subtle..
so than i was listening to Bohemian Rhapsody over and over again. everyone knows that song. no introduction necessary.
i looove the drama of it, but after the 23rd or so time, i was getting reflective. not good. 'cause after reflection come, you know it, brooding, and then ta-freaking-dah, emo.
so i took it off repeat, and still being in the mood for some Queen, put all my Queen songs on shuffle. Love Of My Life plays. it yanks at my heartstrings. GRR. next.
well than boys and girls, i'd set you the scene.
it is in the middle of the night, 4am thereabouts. you are in your comfiest FBTs and oversized jersy, or whatever rocks your boat, the debris of late night binging scattered around you.
silence, apart from the music from your headphones.
one lone light over you in the living room, everything else in darkness in deferrence to your kind mom's complains that your insomnia is shooting the electricity bill sky high.
your irritatable, noisy family's snug in their rooms.
like me, you might as soon flap your hand at the dark, especially when you're in the safety of your home. you're feeling pretty good from the good strong dose of music. a little doozy, because you are wrecking your sleep patterns after all, but it's all still good.
still at this point...
you really would not like The Invisible Man to come on, without ample warning!
unless you have nerves of steel, in which case i am dreadfully envious, you may end up like me, tumbled on the floor in squealing, scrambling panic like someone just yanked the chair out from under me.
freakin' hell!! you may laugh, but wait til you try it for yourself!
Sunday, April 2, 2006
"All poetry is a reproduction of the tones of actual speech."
Something strange is stirring in me tonight.
I can't sleep.
I feel odd, heavy and yet, light. Almost whimsical but not, because there is a sense of work that needs to be done calling.
I can't get over Chaingmai, either. It's like a lover I left behind, not a country I spend time in.
candid shots are the best, no?
--
It's been a while since i read some. Here's one for your enjoyment too, dear readers.
Wind and Window Flower
by Robert Frost
Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the caged yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
Something strange is stirring in me tonight.
I can't sleep.
I feel odd, heavy and yet, light. Almost whimsical but not, because there is a sense of work that needs to be done calling.
I can't get over Chaingmai, either. It's like a lover I left behind, not a country I spend time in.
candid shots are the best, no?--
It's been a while since i read some. Here's one for your enjoyment too, dear readers.
Wind and Window Flower
by Robert Frost
Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the caged yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
Saturday, April 1, 2006
YES! that sounds more like the Angelina I used to worship. She punched him! It'll be just like her, to leave a former Hottest Man Alive behind, a battered and whineylittleboy mess. Haven't i mentioned, how much I hated Brad Pitt domesticating her?
click on the pic, to read the full article, courtesy of Popbytes.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
been too lazy to blog, and the things kept piling up.
anyway, since my last post, i've had a great birthday week, gone for a community service trip to Thailand for the past few weeks, and various melodramas. Didnt touch the computer much in Thailand, cant say i missed it much.
Thailand was amazing. Everyone needs to get their ass there. I hate being back in Singapore, truly.
Flu now, i'm droozy from the meds.
Pics to come, maybe. I was too lazy (how familiar) and busy whisking everywhere while in chaingmai to blog, and now im rather regretting it, as there have been many a amusing things i wanted to remember and share. also, this trip has finally convinced me. i need a digi cam damnit, i'm totally a cam whore convert now, and really, there was just so many people, places, things and memories i wanted to remember better then with hasty fuzzy shots stolen from friends' cameras.
i've got to say though, travelling can get so addictive! we were so full of things to do, things to buy, and i have to say, having my buds a scream-at-able distance away was really cool. life was less fast paced there, and argh, i could go on forever, raving about chiangmai. til next time then. my fav edible kids from there might even write me you know!
anyway, since my last post, i've had a great birthday week, gone for a community service trip to Thailand for the past few weeks, and various melodramas. Didnt touch the computer much in Thailand, cant say i missed it much.
Thailand was amazing. Everyone needs to get their ass there. I hate being back in Singapore, truly.
Flu now, i'm droozy from the meds.
Pics to come, maybe. I was too lazy (how familiar) and busy whisking everywhere while in chaingmai to blog, and now im rather regretting it, as there have been many a amusing things i wanted to remember and share. also, this trip has finally convinced me. i need a digi cam damnit, i'm totally a cam whore convert now, and really, there was just so many people, places, things and memories i wanted to remember better then with hasty fuzzy shots stolen from friends' cameras.
i've got to say though, travelling can get so addictive! we were so full of things to do, things to buy, and i have to say, having my buds a scream-at-able distance away was really cool. life was less fast paced there, and argh, i could go on forever, raving about chiangmai. til next time then. my fav edible kids from there might even write me you know!
Wednesday, March 8, 2006
the twelve things of christmas that's such a pain to me.
last christmas with the wonkies. 3 months long overdue, yet too cute to pass up one.
i give you...
Spice Boys. so hot, you only need three to get the favour of five chicks.
Posh Spice, he drinks to the ironies of life, petitely.
Wild Spice, he'd crazy rocker you to death by virtue of his puny tongue. (that sounded wrong.)
and Baby Spice, everyone's favourite cutey pie, a modern day santarina and world ambassador for PEACEEE!
otherwise known as haniff, ratch and fah mian.
last christmas with the wonkies. 3 months long overdue, yet too cute to pass up one.
i give you...
Spice Boys. so hot, you only need three to get the favour of five chicks.
Posh Spice, he drinks to the ironies of life, petitely.
Wild Spice, he'd crazy rocker you to death by virtue of his puny tongue. (that sounded wrong.)
and Baby Spice, everyone's favourite cutey pie, a modern day santarina and world ambassador for PEACEEE!
otherwise known as haniff, ratch and fah mian.
Tuesday, March 7, 2006
Life is devoted to sucking the marrow out of the human heart.
you cannot hide in a permanent emotional dump and take on every dammit trouble-maker who stumbles to it and pukes their messy problems, soon to become yours, into your lap. or strolls purposefully and aims deliberately and calmly for your upturned face, as the case may be.
so you get out and go poor girls shopping.
angie and i hit the salvation army today, after discovering a shared passion for thrift and junk a week or so before.
i've been to the branch in bukit merah before, and was sorely disappointed by the lacklustre things there. like, whoopee, records. and ol' tee shirts i could have sworn were used for jogging in and for wiping off nosedung with. old toys that tiredly play the bloodysame melody that we ALL recognise, since all cheap toys in singapore seem to have the same one, straw farmer's hats, lousy bags and clothes, some display trinkets and dishes. urgh. at that branch, i spent 45 minutes digging through piles of chinese karaoke records, malay records, boring records, and found a GREASE ALBUM, which made it worth it and my shopping kaki scream and beg for it. so yeah. i bought that, 2 other records to destroy, and a couple pieces of clothes that haven't seen the light of day since. i was disgusted, i tell you.
and then today we found the huge main branch at bukit timah. we were happy and we were cool. (struggled in vain to add angie's photo here. grr. )
EDITED: here it is! angie and i, decked out in salvation armani style! so ok, somewhat fugly...
whoa. it was sooo fun i tell you! scores of fugly wedding dresses that we near died laughing at, next to a bunch of really, really old, hideous bridesmaid-ish dresses in gaudy colours. remember cinderella? well, her stepsisters and stepmother were outfitted in the salvation army for their ball. someone i know once wore a somewhat tamer version of those to the prom. it was from a costume shop.
violins, diving flippers, a faux maroon mock croc mini skirt, a new scarlet chinese boxing dressing gown with a snarling tiger on the back (which i promptly put on and posed with, taking a picture with the previously mentioned crap hp that doesn't export pictures), countless golf clubs and pool sticks, cheap books, greeting cards, costume jewellery, jeans from versace and armani (which were dreadfully cut. sigh. no really, high waists, tapered and all.), cheap graphic tees at 2 to 3 buckaroos... and paintings! and mechanical train sets! and prints! and... etc lah.
there were endlessly quirky and unexpected things there! yeah, there was the requisite records, but it wasn't the main attraction like before! angie got adorable huge sweater tees to wear belted, a-la-retro-ness. totally suits her! after she removes the eky shoulder pads of course.
i found books, books, gloriously cheap books. i bought some for a grand total of 8 buckaroos, two shades that angie and i will be compulsively sharing, ten loud ties for $1o(crazy, but you'd see the brillance soon enough), and sighed over maroon suede fugly shoes from hush puppie at 2o bucks, the scarlet boxing dressing gown at 2-something, and the FIVE DOLLARS BUT SIZE XS red mock croc skirt. huh all red. wahh, obsessive compulsive.
i was dragging myself away from the bookshelves after picking three books, citing damage control, when my eyes lilted upon a book protectively wrapped with victorian style flower paper. it was romeo and juliet, a secondary literature class copy. edited, i saw, so i was about to replace it on the shelf, when i caught sight of something written in a girlish hand in the corner.
now, i happen to adore old books and old-style bookstores. old books have character, something left behind by their previous owners, that triumphs the giddy joy i get from actually buying retail.
carolyn long wrote,
"life is devoted to sucking the marrow out of the human heart."
this she told me, unknowingly. and it rocked me violently, for something that sounded like so much teenager's desperate angst.
it sucks that i can relate, at the point of events that i am in now. (i learnt something in school. that is no details here. sorta, but in much better and mind-numbing words. )
and this line is what i'd leave you with to ponder unhappily.
good night, and i hope all is well. relatively. i will be sneaking into MOS tommorrow a few hours before i'm legal cos i'm broke and its ladies night, and meeting dear thevvy for walk the line before that. $4 dollars tix, mwahaha. dont' cha wanna know how i did it? the broke girl rules balls.
relatively.
--------------------------------------------------
there is someone on my tag board. either he is teasing me with his brief salutation, or someone out there is teasing me with an impersonation. sadly, sneaking suspicion wagers it's the later. still, it did its purpose then..
you cannot hide in a permanent emotional dump and take on every dammit trouble-maker who stumbles to it and pukes their messy problems, soon to become yours, into your lap. or strolls purposefully and aims deliberately and calmly for your upturned face, as the case may be.
so you get out and go poor girls shopping.
angie and i hit the salvation army today, after discovering a shared passion for thrift and junk a week or so before.
i've been to the branch in bukit merah before, and was sorely disappointed by the lacklustre things there. like, whoopee, records. and ol' tee shirts i could have sworn were used for jogging in and for wiping off nosedung with. old toys that tiredly play the bloodysame melody that we ALL recognise, since all cheap toys in singapore seem to have the same one, straw farmer's hats, lousy bags and clothes, some display trinkets and dishes. urgh. at that branch, i spent 45 minutes digging through piles of chinese karaoke records, malay records, boring records, and found a GREASE ALBUM, which made it worth it and my shopping kaki scream and beg for it. so yeah. i bought that, 2 other records to destroy, and a couple pieces of clothes that haven't seen the light of day since. i was disgusted, i tell you.
and then today we found the huge main branch at bukit timah. we were happy and we were cool. (struggled in vain to add angie's photo here. grr. )
EDITED: here it is! angie and i, decked out in salvation armani style! so ok, somewhat fugly...
whoa. it was sooo fun i tell you! scores of fugly wedding dresses that we near died laughing at, next to a bunch of really, really old, hideous bridesmaid-ish dresses in gaudy colours. remember cinderella? well, her stepsisters and stepmother were outfitted in the salvation army for their ball. someone i know once wore a somewhat tamer version of those to the prom. it was from a costume shop.
violins, diving flippers, a faux maroon mock croc mini skirt, a new scarlet chinese boxing dressing gown with a snarling tiger on the back (which i promptly put on and posed with, taking a picture with the previously mentioned crap hp that doesn't export pictures), countless golf clubs and pool sticks, cheap books, greeting cards, costume jewellery, jeans from versace and armani (which were dreadfully cut. sigh. no really, high waists, tapered and all.), cheap graphic tees at 2 to 3 buckaroos... and paintings! and mechanical train sets! and prints! and... etc lah.
there were endlessly quirky and unexpected things there! yeah, there was the requisite records, but it wasn't the main attraction like before! angie got adorable huge sweater tees to wear belted, a-la-retro-ness. totally suits her! after she removes the eky shoulder pads of course.
i found books, books, gloriously cheap books. i bought some for a grand total of 8 buckaroos, two shades that angie and i will be compulsively sharing, ten loud ties for $1o(crazy, but you'd see the brillance soon enough), and sighed over maroon suede fugly shoes from hush puppie at 2o bucks, the scarlet boxing dressing gown at 2-something, and the FIVE DOLLARS BUT SIZE XS red mock croc skirt. huh all red. wahh, obsessive compulsive.
i was dragging myself away from the bookshelves after picking three books, citing damage control, when my eyes lilted upon a book protectively wrapped with victorian style flower paper. it was romeo and juliet, a secondary literature class copy. edited, i saw, so i was about to replace it on the shelf, when i caught sight of something written in a girlish hand in the corner.
now, i happen to adore old books and old-style bookstores. old books have character, something left behind by their previous owners, that triumphs the giddy joy i get from actually buying retail.
carolyn long wrote,
"life is devoted to sucking the marrow out of the human heart."
this she told me, unknowingly. and it rocked me violently, for something that sounded like so much teenager's desperate angst.
it sucks that i can relate, at the point of events that i am in now. (i learnt something in school. that is no details here. sorta, but in much better and mind-numbing words. )
and this line is what i'd leave you with to ponder unhappily.
good night, and i hope all is well. relatively. i will be sneaking into MOS tommorrow a few hours before i'm legal cos i'm broke and its ladies night, and meeting dear thevvy for walk the line before that. $4 dollars tix, mwahaha. dont' cha wanna know how i did it? the broke girl rules balls.
relatively.
--------------------------------------------------
there is someone on my tag board. either he is teasing me with his brief salutation, or someone out there is teasing me with an impersonation. sadly, sneaking suspicion wagers it's the later. still, it did its purpose then..
Sunday, March 5, 2006
If you're into evil, you're a friend of mine!
back.
a little addled from the strong glue i was using.
i've got glue burns on my fingers too, its so strong and i'm that careless.
as usual, i underestimated the work. grawh.
did i mention the big-ish purple bruise where the sun should never ever shine, even if you were a stickler for getting rid of tan lines?
its on my fuckin' butt.
its a hilarious story, if i do say so myself.
i have a penchant for accquiring painfully funny injuries. it wasn't my first butt injury either!
ask me for the stories, it does them justice. haha.
back.
a little addled from the strong glue i was using.
i've got glue burns on my fingers too, its so strong and i'm that careless.
as usual, i underestimated the work. grawh.
did i mention the big-ish purple bruise where the sun should never ever shine, even if you were a stickler for getting rid of tan lines?
its on my fuckin' butt.
its a hilarious story, if i do say so myself.
i have a penchant for accquiring painfully funny injuries. it wasn't my first butt injury either!
ask me for the stories, it does them justice. haha.
i am so dependent on people who have digi-cams. and who actually send out the pics.
anyway, some of us who were at fay's birthday bash, hard rock cafe. drummer monkey's cute there!
Where were you when we were getting high?
it's been an eventful few days, really.
i'm rather unhappy.
i'd whine, but medisoc says that blogging is dangerous shite and common sense reminds me that feelings will be whipped.
so.
im working on some instant gratification earrings now. i haven't crafted ANYTHING for ages, and the hiatus is finally killing me.
you'd see, it's gonna be the fastest batch i'd ever whipped up. i promised myself a deliciously craft-filled holiday, making so many bags and belts and earrings and necklaces and bracelets, that i'd actually HAVE to do something i've been toying with since way back.
profit from my crafty junk. sell them! :)
whooopieeee.
i need a cam, so yall can see this. my new so-called camera phone DOESN'T TRANSFER PICTURES!!!!
like what's the fucking engineer-shatted-out-ideas-in-the-poop-room point.
actually, i find the poopee room inspiring.
went to beck's bash on fri night. caught up with shaf and pam! and fay and 'mir, my BBF and gay best friend respectively. tee heee! he has nicer nails then i do!! okay, not saying alot, but STILL.
HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY BECKS!
hope you find the poopee room inspiring too.
met this odd south african guy, literally on the streets today. pretty insistent sort. we'd see if he's the creepy stranger that he tried so hard to convince me he isn't. smart dude actually got pass all my outrageous defence mechanisms against strangers.
that was really a first.
it occurs to me, that all of us are a whole lot more, outside of school.
do you not agree?
now feel free to cheer me up with your inner children, everyone. i'm off to mope over pretty crafts.
it's been an eventful few days, really.
i'm rather unhappy.
i'd whine, but medisoc says that blogging is dangerous shite and common sense reminds me that feelings will be whipped.
so.
im working on some instant gratification earrings now. i haven't crafted ANYTHING for ages, and the hiatus is finally killing me.
you'd see, it's gonna be the fastest batch i'd ever whipped up. i promised myself a deliciously craft-filled holiday, making so many bags and belts and earrings and necklaces and bracelets, that i'd actually HAVE to do something i've been toying with since way back.
profit from my crafty junk. sell them! :)
whooopieeee.
i need a cam, so yall can see this. my new so-called camera phone DOESN'T TRANSFER PICTURES!!!!
like what's the fucking engineer-shatted-out-ideas-in-the-poop-room point.
actually, i find the poopee room inspiring.
went to beck's bash on fri night. caught up with shaf and pam! and fay and 'mir, my BBF and gay best friend respectively. tee heee! he has nicer nails then i do!! okay, not saying alot, but STILL.
HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY BECKS!
hope you find the poopee room inspiring too.
chiang mai planning comming along. i still think Operation Faak is kinda cool. we do care about them, afterall. :)
MOS with mervin, angie and various etcs on wed. it'll be cool. i'd flirt for you adiel! haha.
met this odd south african guy, literally on the streets today. pretty insistent sort. we'd see if he's the creepy stranger that he tried so hard to convince me he isn't. smart dude actually got pass all my outrageous defence mechanisms against strangers.
that was really a first.
it occurs to me, that all of us are a whole lot more, outside of school.
do you not agree?
now feel free to cheer me up with your inner children, everyone. i'm off to mope over pretty crafts.
Thursday, March 2, 2006
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
And more.
your name in japanese quizes. always multilating my name.
That's really pretty!
$$$$$it might be less, if i weren't so desperate for money$$$$$$
have you guessed, how unwilling i am to study?
For my recent superhero fixation. i even dream about being one, damnit. my weapon will be FARTS and BURPS!
| Your Japanese Name Is... |
 |
your name in japanese quizes. always multilating my name.
| You Should Get a Rose Tattoo |
 Sexy and classic You are pure rock and roll, party girl. So is your tattoo. |
| On Average, You Would Sell Out For |
 |
$$$$$it might be less, if i weren't so desperate for money$$$$$$
have you guessed, how unwilling i am to study?
| Your Superhero Profile |
 Your Superhero Name is The Gamma Nova Your Superpower is Super Strength Your Weakness is Itching Your Weapon is Your Gas Throwing Stars Your Mode of Transportation is Chariot |
For my recent superhero fixation. i even dream about being one, damnit. my weapon will be FARTS and BURPS!
look what i found while procrastinating medisoc studies..
| Your Eyes Should Be Hazel |
 What's hidden behind your eyes: Subtle manipulation |
What Color Should Your Eyes Be?
Saturday, February 25, 2006
you could have it all, my empire of dirt.
i broke a promise to myself today.
i smoked.
i didn't know it's common knowledge that shisha contained tobacco.
"... so where did you think all the smoke came from?"
i thought i was just fruity, dirty air in a pretty vase. a cheap thrill.
i know, i know.
it begun as a spontaneous novelty for me. unfortunately for me, the guy i smoked it with, A*, quit smoking (cigarettes) two days before. he failed to mention the two days part in all his casualness, hence my assumption that it was, well, a while ago.
for his girlfriend. he quited for his girlfriend.
who of course, was there, to bridle in smiling silence, for the two hours we were smoking shisha in arab st.
a little... wracked with guilt.
my mom would cry if she knew. my father's partial, shotgun excuse for being the bastard he is, is, you guessed it, smoking. doesn't help that he is your typical japanese man.
the gf, my especially close friend, hinted, and i didn't notice.
he was trying to quit. and i sprouted horns, forked tail and turned flaming red.
i caused the first rift between them. being franky sorta people, we mended, but still.
i broke a passionate promise to myself. and enjoyed it, when i was non the wiser.
pathetically queasey, from the guilt, nicotine and loath combination.
honestly though, i'd admit.
it was fun, learning how to smoke. breathing techniques, apple minty taste on my tongue, the minor high, pretty vase, looking like a dragon(a feat harder then i thought) and a keepsake. :)
pictures to come.
wikipedia can't quite decide if shisha is worse or not as bad as cigarettes.
i know in weeks to come, this would be a laughable insider joke between the three of us.
but for now,
all the beautiful, crafty, underground things i hysterically, feverishly adore in arab st won't tempt me back there anytime soon. nope. not even CHEAP GORGEOUS fabric.
this is where the practical bitch in me chimes in with,
"ah well, at least i got fantastic craftacious stuff today already!"
what a bitch, no? :)
i broke a promise to myself today.i smoked.
i didn't know it's common knowledge that shisha contained tobacco.
"... so where did you think all the smoke came from?"
i thought i was just fruity, dirty air in a pretty vase. a cheap thrill.
i know, i know.
it begun as a spontaneous novelty for me. unfortunately for me, the guy i smoked it with, A*, quit smoking (cigarettes) two days before. he failed to mention the two days part in all his casualness, hence my assumption that it was, well, a while ago.
for his girlfriend. he quited for his girlfriend.
who of course, was there, to bridle in smiling silence, for the two hours we were smoking shisha in arab st.
a little... wracked with guilt.
my mom would cry if she knew. my father's partial, shotgun excuse for being the bastard he is, is, you guessed it, smoking. doesn't help that he is your typical japanese man.
the gf, my especially close friend, hinted, and i didn't notice.
he was trying to quit. and i sprouted horns, forked tail and turned flaming red.
i caused the first rift between them. being franky sorta people, we mended, but still.
i broke a passionate promise to myself. and enjoyed it, when i was non the wiser.
pathetically queasey, from the guilt, nicotine and loath combination.
honestly though, i'd admit.
it was fun, learning how to smoke. breathing techniques, apple minty taste on my tongue, the minor high, pretty vase, looking like a dragon(a feat harder then i thought) and a keepsake. :)
pictures to come.
wikipedia can't quite decide if shisha is worse or not as bad as cigarettes.
i know in weeks to come, this would be a laughable insider joke between the three of us.
but for now,
all the beautiful, crafty, underground things i hysterically, feverishly adore in arab st won't tempt me back there anytime soon. nope. not even CHEAP GORGEOUS fabric.
this is where the practical bitch in me chimes in with,
"ah well, at least i got fantastic craftacious stuff today already!"
what a bitch, no? :)
Monday, February 20, 2006
There's a charm in my pocket,
to keep me safe when you are away,
When you became the charm in my heart.
All the sweet, sweet people who commented on the last, rather embarassing post. :)
Off to ChiangMai, Thailand on the 14th March! :)
Marketing test today :/
Over and done with :D
Am I psyched for for ChiangMai or what?
Of course, when I signed up for this trip I had the happiest visions of building a playground in a super kampong style village, where we would wash our clothes by beating it with sticks, sleep in mosqitoe nets, have no wireless network (THE HORROR.) and spoil little scampering kids with a dollar's worth of sweeties.
Stop laughing, it's a shy vision. See it got scared away.
So instead, I'm going to teach english, conduct activities and give... computer lessons?!
uh-oh.
to keep me safe when you are away,
When you became the charm in my heart.
All the sweet, sweet people who commented on the last, rather embarassing post. :)
Off to ChiangMai, Thailand on the 14th March! :)
Marketing test today :/
Over and done with :D
Am I psyched for for ChiangMai or what?
Of course, when I signed up for this trip I had the happiest visions of building a playground in a super kampong style village, where we would wash our clothes by beating it with sticks, sleep in mosqitoe nets, have no wireless network (THE HORROR.) and spoil little scampering kids with a dollar's worth of sweeties.
Stop laughing, it's a shy vision. See it got scared away.
So instead, I'm going to teach english, conduct activities and give... computer lessons?!
uh-oh.
Tuesday, February 7, 2006
Catch a falling star,
put it in your pocket,
save it for a rainy day.
i am sad.
sometimes there seems to be a reason why.
like that bastard.
or school. family. friends.
or heck, the other bastard.
other times, i wonder, too.
i feel like i spent my entire semester in mild depression.
last semester too.
i am Jack's wasted life.
my new friends probably think this is the way i am.
maybe depression is the wrong word.
it is, afterall, a medical condition with all the inherent gee gaws.
i keep quiet.
and when lips are laid together for too long,
it doesn't stay as limber anymore.
a mold of concrete grows over them.
the tongue seems to swell
fat, lazy and thick
til it fills the mouth
and solidifies there.
i am sad.
often, i question my decision to go to mass communication.
ambition aside, i seem to fade more everyday.
i can barely muster the motivation to make my school deadlines.
i know i should be very worried and very driven to make my grades.
so i am.
i have groupmates i cannot let down.
i hate the competitive, manipilative and false in here.
i hold back from their growing camaraderie.
don't ask me why.
i think i may infect people with my sadness.
im not the best company anymore.
i only talk when necessary nowadays
and sometimes, rather sporadically.
maybe i am not sad.
it's not quite right.
i am emotionless.
numb.
yeah, numb.
everything seems to be on mute and a mile away from me.
i remember the loudmouthed, opinionated, cursing bitch i used to be.
sometimes i can still resurrect her for my old friends.
she would think i'm a bloody idiot for publishing this.
and that depression is, really, for attention seeking losers.
she hates depression.
but i don't much care anymore.
hopefully megabitch would be back in full force for next semester because i need her back to deal with that bastard. bastards.
put it in your pocket,
save it for a rainy day.
i am sad.
sometimes there seems to be a reason why.
like that bastard.
or school. family. friends.
or heck, the other bastard.
other times, i wonder, too.
i feel like i spent my entire semester in mild depression.
last semester too.
i am Jack's wasted life.
my new friends probably think this is the way i am.
maybe depression is the wrong word.
it is, afterall, a medical condition with all the inherent gee gaws.
i keep quiet.
and when lips are laid together for too long,
it doesn't stay as limber anymore.
a mold of concrete grows over them.
the tongue seems to swell
fat, lazy and thick
til it fills the mouth
and solidifies there.
i am sad.
often, i question my decision to go to mass communication.
ambition aside, i seem to fade more everyday.
i can barely muster the motivation to make my school deadlines.
i know i should be very worried and very driven to make my grades.
so i am.
i have groupmates i cannot let down.
i hate the competitive, manipilative and false in here.
i hold back from their growing camaraderie.
don't ask me why.
i think i may infect people with my sadness.
im not the best company anymore.
i only talk when necessary nowadays
and sometimes, rather sporadically.
maybe i am not sad.
it's not quite right.
i am emotionless.
numb.
yeah, numb.
everything seems to be on mute and a mile away from me.
i remember the loudmouthed, opinionated, cursing bitch i used to be.
sometimes i can still resurrect her for my old friends.
she would think i'm a bloody idiot for publishing this.
and that depression is, really, for attention seeking losers.
she hates depression.
but i don't much care anymore.
hopefully megabitch would be back in full force for next semester because i need her back to deal with that bastard. bastards.
Monday, February 6, 2006
I muse.
im exhausted. i look fugly, haven't shaved the requisite areas, am border-line panicking, and only because i'm too tired to waste that kind of energy. the guy from reference service at NLB sucks. i am about to spend the entire night on marketing. there is flash, editing script, a locvid test tomorrow afternoon i havent got time to study for and medsoc tut to prepare for in the morning. and i really want to try to do a poster.
when you have finished whinging to anyone who would listen, what do you do?
procrastinate, of course. even when it is VERY unadvicable at this stage.
For your amusement, here's something to muse tonight. (bad pun. but i digress.)
Q. Why do they never watch TV in the movies, except in horror movies?
:)
i got bored. and aisyah reminded me about blogging. and i'm off to do more work now.
im exhausted. i look fugly, haven't shaved the requisite areas, am border-line panicking, and only because i'm too tired to waste that kind of energy. the guy from reference service at NLB sucks. i am about to spend the entire night on marketing. there is flash, editing script, a locvid test tomorrow afternoon i havent got time to study for and medsoc tut to prepare for in the morning. and i really want to try to do a poster.
when you have finished whinging to anyone who would listen, what do you do?
procrastinate, of course. even when it is VERY unadvicable at this stage.
For your amusement, here's something to muse tonight. (bad pun. but i digress.)
Q. Why do they never watch TV in the movies, except in horror movies?
:)
i got bored. and aisyah reminded me about blogging. and i'm off to do more work now.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Lies, and Goodbyes.
I am listening to Johnny Cash, whom i've discovered recently, and reading about oddly sized dildos in a sex blog, postmodern courtesan if you must know.
Somehow it feels like it should be a sacrilege.
**********
We all lie.
"Nah, it's okay, I don't care."
"Oh hi, 4th great aunt! I've missed you so!"
"I'm okay."
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
"I love you."
"I hate you."
A forced smile.
Oh, we try to avoid it. With sly, writhing, misdirecting words.
"That dress looks fantastic!"
"That was... enlightening."
or a simple, mona lisa smile.
We lie.
We wish we don't have to.
We wish we don't.
It makes me upset. I brood about how fake we are.
I don't know if you'd understand what i'm trying to impart.
I can't find the fancy, impactful words that will convey to you the depth with which i feel this.
And i realise, bombastic, pompous words are little lies too. Little hammers trying to force the point, dressing prettily some fugly nonsensical bullshit.
With the right words, you can sell cosmetics that ruin the independence of communities while touting its empowerment of them.
With the right words, a fictionous pampered patsy of a dumbassed jock can hilariously be an adored hero the world over.
With the right words, you can be such a fucked-up crazy bitch, and pass for a well-meaning sweetheart.
Words are easily abused.
Its just so sad.
And I used to relish the power of it.
Maybe that's the reason people lie.
Give another the power of knowing your too innate truths?
I don't want to blog anymore. I'm more of a private person then I realised, its disturbing when aquaintances talk to me about things i havent told them about yet. And I apparently can't write without it becoming somewhat personal. So much for lighthearted, regular entertainment huh? I brood too much when writing, so why subject people to it, when i know i would yawn, and skip it in an instant?
Good night. And perhaps for now, good bye. Maybe when i am less sunk in disquietude...
This blog will probably be only good for quotes, stories and links i want to remember from now on.
But no, i think i'd try to post chirpier stuff. Like Shafah's slumber party on monday. I'd try get psyched for it. Let's give this blogging thing a proper shot.
I am listening to Johnny Cash, whom i've discovered recently, and reading about oddly sized dildos in a sex blog, postmodern courtesan if you must know.
Somehow it feels like it should be a sacrilege.
**********
We all lie.
"Nah, it's okay, I don't care."
"Oh hi, 4th great aunt! I've missed you so!"
"I'm okay."
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
"I love you."
"I hate you."
A forced smile.
Oh, we try to avoid it. With sly, writhing, misdirecting words.
"That dress looks fantastic!"
"That was... enlightening."
or a simple, mona lisa smile.
We lie.
We wish we don't have to.
We wish we don't.
It makes me upset. I brood about how fake we are.
I don't know if you'd understand what i'm trying to impart.
I can't find the fancy, impactful words that will convey to you the depth with which i feel this.
And i realise, bombastic, pompous words are little lies too. Little hammers trying to force the point, dressing prettily some fugly nonsensical bullshit.
With the right words, you can sell cosmetics that ruin the independence of communities while touting its empowerment of them.
With the right words, a fictionous pampered patsy of a dumbassed jock can hilariously be an adored hero the world over.
With the right words, you can be such a fucked-up crazy bitch, and pass for a well-meaning sweetheart.
Words are easily abused.
Its just so sad.
And I used to relish the power of it.
Maybe that's the reason people lie.
Give another the power of knowing your too innate truths?
I don't want to blog anymore. I'm more of a private person then I realised, its disturbing when aquaintances talk to me about things i havent told them about yet. And I apparently can't write without it becoming somewhat personal. So much for lighthearted, regular entertainment huh? I brood too much when writing, so why subject people to it, when i know i would yawn, and skip it in an instant?
Good night. And perhaps for now, good bye. Maybe when i am less sunk in disquietude...
This blog will probably be only good for quotes, stories and links i want to remember from now on.
But no, i think i'd try to post chirpier stuff. Like Shafah's slumber party on monday. I'd try get psyched for it. Let's give this blogging thing a proper shot.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Now That's a Smart Fellow
As societies grow decadent, the language grows decadent, too. Words areused to disguise, not to illuminate, action: you liberate a city bydestroying it. Words are to confuse, so that at election time people willsolemnly vote against their own interests.
-Gore Vidal, writer (1925- )
As societies grow decadent, the language grows decadent, too. Words areused to disguise, not to illuminate, action: you liberate a city bydestroying it. Words are to confuse, so that at election time people willsolemnly vote against their own interests.
-Gore Vidal, writer (1925- )
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
OXYMORON: BUSY PROCRASTINATING.
A friend suggested a normal bloggerish post. you know, the sort that actually tells people what's going on in my life. He pointed out that I have been doing everything but that.
so.
Friday. - spent the entire day after location video pro practical class in borders, first waiting for rebecca, who wanted to borrow my cord pants for the Queen tribute concert, then just finishing my book. She almost got me free tickets to it too. :(
I happen to be the bane of the bookstore's existence. I sit there and read and read and read all day, and leave the place, dazed, sated and empty handed. Friday was a good example. I was there before 12, til closing time when she called after the concert to rave about it. That was at 12 midnight. It was fuckin' fantastic, tamora pierce's latest's finally made it to singapore. I probably will buy a copy for a 2nd read too. Oh, the concert was good too, according to becca. And in defence of myself, when I do buy, I tend to walk straight out. :)
Saturday. - went jamming at pennisula centre, with amir, fay and rebecca. i felt like halfway inbetween a rock goddess and an absolute doodoo head, 'cause amir and rebecca were multi-instrumental while i only drummed badly and i had to be told how many beats there were in so many songs! that bad, yes.
At the delifrance nearby, we binged after that, swapping our lunches half way and giving each other huge bites of it in between a running commentary on the looks of the people walking pass the convieniently placed, huge window to the sidewalk outside and a whole lot of silly antics, stories and discussions on our part.
I love them, really. It rocks my boat to just sit and yak and bitch, occasionally spewing forth bits of food, gesturing and yelling as wildly as I please , and high-fiving and hugging each other everytime we are get on a serious verbal high!! 'cause after all, these people love me too. :) Me and my freaky knives that waves too violently and close to people's faces. But not enough to read my blog and hear me say it, since i've "sold out". Don't worry babes, I don't really think I'd last long at this either.
Sunday. - Was my knuckle-down-and-do-all-the-piling-school-work day. I went to buy the materials for my CATS artifact. An aircon tee shirt. REALLY feasible idea, back when we forgot we were supposed to make a working model. The original idea was supposed to be marketed as "depending on a cutting edge micro chip technology, that will ensure a constant breeze through one's tee shirt", or some similar BS.
...?!
yeah, i agree.
Then it boiled down to me sewing it.
so it became an aircon vest, with pockets velco-ed onto it to pack ice-packs into. you know, the things you use when you get a fever, sprain an ankle, whatever. Easy to say, fucked up shit to sew with a defiant sewing machine!!! I supposed the ol' Singer didn't like me that much, esp after I broke 5 needles on it, only to abandoned it the last time I used it, maybe at least 2 months ago...
It took me 7 fuckin', cursin' hours, not counting the 2 hours shopping for it. It REALLY didn't like the knit material. Too stretchy. Too holey. But I triumphed! hehe.
By then, the whole fuckin' day was shot. The much publicised day at the library to catch up on school work? Pretty much screwed at 10 at night, even if you ignore how pissy and tired I was then. I sneezed, and bits of green knit fabric and black thread came out. EWWW.
I will take pictures of it, and show it off here; because if there's only one thing I am insanely vain about, its the things i DIY-ed. I fully expect to be SHOWERED in PRAISES then. HEHHEHE!
and with that, good night! now i'd stop being busy procrastinating my media critique.
A friend suggested a normal bloggerish post. you know, the sort that actually tells people what's going on in my life. He pointed out that I have been doing everything but that.
so.
Friday. - spent the entire day after location video pro practical class in borders, first waiting for rebecca, who wanted to borrow my cord pants for the Queen tribute concert, then just finishing my book. She almost got me free tickets to it too. :(
I happen to be the bane of the bookstore's existence. I sit there and read and read and read all day, and leave the place, dazed, sated and empty handed. Friday was a good example. I was there before 12, til closing time when she called after the concert to rave about it. That was at 12 midnight. It was fuckin' fantastic, tamora pierce's latest's finally made it to singapore. I probably will buy a copy for a 2nd read too. Oh, the concert was good too, according to becca. And in defence of myself, when I do buy, I tend to walk straight out. :)
Saturday. - went jamming at pennisula centre, with amir, fay and rebecca. i felt like halfway inbetween a rock goddess and an absolute doodoo head, 'cause amir and rebecca were multi-instrumental while i only drummed badly and i had to be told how many beats there were in so many songs! that bad, yes.
At the delifrance nearby, we binged after that, swapping our lunches half way and giving each other huge bites of it in between a running commentary on the looks of the people walking pass the convieniently placed, huge window to the sidewalk outside and a whole lot of silly antics, stories and discussions on our part.
I love them, really. It rocks my boat to just sit and yak and bitch, occasionally spewing forth bits of food, gesturing and yelling as wildly as I please , and high-fiving and hugging each other everytime we are get on a serious verbal high!! 'cause after all, these people love me too. :) Me and my freaky knives that waves too violently and close to people's faces. But not enough to read my blog and hear me say it, since i've "sold out". Don't worry babes, I don't really think I'd last long at this either.
Sunday. - Was my knuckle-down-and-do-all-the-piling-school-work day. I went to buy the materials for my CATS artifact. An aircon tee shirt. REALLY feasible idea, back when we forgot we were supposed to make a working model. The original idea was supposed to be marketed as "depending on a cutting edge micro chip technology, that will ensure a constant breeze through one's tee shirt", or some similar BS.
...?!
yeah, i agree.
Then it boiled down to me sewing it.
so it became an aircon vest, with pockets velco-ed onto it to pack ice-packs into. you know, the things you use when you get a fever, sprain an ankle, whatever. Easy to say, fucked up shit to sew with a defiant sewing machine!!! I supposed the ol' Singer didn't like me that much, esp after I broke 5 needles on it, only to abandoned it the last time I used it, maybe at least 2 months ago...
It took me 7 fuckin', cursin' hours, not counting the 2 hours shopping for it. It REALLY didn't like the knit material. Too stretchy. Too holey. But I triumphed! hehe.
By then, the whole fuckin' day was shot. The much publicised day at the library to catch up on school work? Pretty much screwed at 10 at night, even if you ignore how pissy and tired I was then. I sneezed, and bits of green knit fabric and black thread came out. EWWW.
I will take pictures of it, and show it off here; because if there's only one thing I am insanely vain about, its the things i DIY-ed. I fully expect to be SHOWERED in PRAISES then. HEHHEHE!
and with that, good night! now i'd stop being busy procrastinating my media critique.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Clang-clang, Maxwell's silver hammer came down upon her head...
i hate a certain style of blogging that pertains to airing dirty laundry.
so i sit here, procrastinating writing my script that i promise to hate, and waiting for inspiration to strike me. though, hopefully not in the face.
should i tell you about my weekend? i'm too lazy to.
la la la, goes an annoying tune in my head.
so la la la, goes that annoying tune into you silly readers' heads too.
see, there doesn't seem to be very much to talk about, when you censor the stuff that really bothers my heart.
when you remove the petty little details,
the storm that brews in everyone's minds, clashing doubts, anger, strands of pain, awash with bleak naivety.
ah crap! see, i've gone and went too close to have done it! what foreplay is to sex, is what this is to dirt laundry.
dirty, dirty, dirty.
now, if i were my friend and i came to this page and read this bit above, i would have shaked my head at me and thought to myself, poor little me, sooo sad. all that angst, angst, ANGST, in my poor little life.
that was sarcasm by the way.
digressing, i think my friendster testimonial board is hilarious. it isn't testimonials anymore, its a forum-that-exists-in-three-parts, and according to MOT, that's one of the first steps to becoming a TWIT, aka ah lian! so there, jimmy!
does anyone out there watch one tree hill?
and does anyone know how to fix this column so that its MUCH wider?
yeah yeah, hi aaron. yes, u are in a blog! he thinks its second only to being mentioned in the news. you need a better aim in life.
i hate a certain style of blogging that pertains to airing dirty laundry.
so i sit here, procrastinating writing my script that i promise to hate, and waiting for inspiration to strike me. though, hopefully not in the face.
should i tell you about my weekend? i'm too lazy to.
la la la, goes an annoying tune in my head.
so la la la, goes that annoying tune into you silly readers' heads too.
see, there doesn't seem to be very much to talk about, when you censor the stuff that really bothers my heart.
when you remove the petty little details,
the storm that brews in everyone's minds, clashing doubts, anger, strands of pain, awash with bleak naivety.
ah crap! see, i've gone and went too close to have done it! what foreplay is to sex, is what this is to dirt laundry.
dirty, dirty, dirty.
now, if i were my friend and i came to this page and read this bit above, i would have shaked my head at me and thought to myself, poor little me, sooo sad. all that angst, angst, ANGST, in my poor little life.
that was sarcasm by the way.
digressing, i think my friendster testimonial board is hilarious. it isn't testimonials anymore, its a forum-that-exists-in-three-parts, and according to MOT, that's one of the first steps to becoming a TWIT, aka ah lian! so there, jimmy!
does anyone out there watch one tree hill?
and does anyone know how to fix this column so that its MUCH wider?
yeah yeah, hi aaron. yes, u are in a blog! he thinks its second only to being mentioned in the news. you need a better aim in life.
Friday, January 13, 2006
take me down to the paradise city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty...
i'm obsessed about tattoos.
i'm obsessed about tattoos.
beautiful.
shouldn't even have bothered, nicole!
die-hard fan! i wish i could meet the guy.
a lovely ankh, protected from me by some nifty html.
a reminder to people from countries where they are deemed mature at 18. i fear for them, really.
and on a whim, i googled "apple tattoo".
helloooooo geek world!
a surprisingly large number of results too.
i did hesitate a little before adding this one, but what the hell.
*wolf whistle*
it's the stories they manage to hide under the thinnest membranes.
self-expression at its most primitive.
but whatever you do, don't try to touch their tats.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
i'd always thought i'd react better to a poem written for me.
i have no idea what to blog. the delicate balance between what is my own fuckin' business and the other stuff is a circus trick that boggles my mind.
okay, it's me being lazy.
here's a shout out to my ever so persistent reader. yes, singular. my determined blogging mentor,
why the fuck is this so small?!
HELLO FIFI!
ignore the incredibly loud top that i am wearing. it almost glows in the dark. which is really helpful in my closet full of black, black, black and BLACK tops. fashion rut, anybody?
i call it slutty in the jungle.
fana brought up an interesting issue today.
can vegetarians eat animal crackers? or gummy bears or hello panda for that matter???
i reckon that it's a secret indulgence/deflection for them.
hello little fellow. what big feet you have. oooh, sorry there it goes. i wonder if you're really this chewy. does panda taste chocolatey? i'm not missing out on much then anyway right?
i'd always assumed that it was against their principles, until our hot debate on it eariler on msn. which happens to be a god sent for franticbusy friends, to remember why they completely adore each other.
i'm afraid of the prayer wheel my mom brought home last year. i came home to find that nosey woman in a fluster, because she'd pulled out the extremely thin sheet of prayer inscriptions to try to read (it was in arabic, or something equally unreadable to her) and it'd unravelled on its own. i didn't help much when i laughed and said that she'd better be careful, otherwise rolling it up the wrong way may curse us everytime she gives it a whirl. sort of like backmasking, wouldn't you agree? after various degrees of minor hilarity, we held it up, as still as we could, to see which direction it curled towards, then rolled it up and stuffed it back in. my smarty-pants idea! :)
we are on this topic because that little thing is sitting on the cupboard in front of me. i hope it understands the principle of good intentions.
to tie up this shit-for-brains entry that barely masks the fact that i'm typing in absolute nonsense, let's return to the subject of "it's hard to blog". what do i blog about? well i do know what i will NOT post..ah, make a list!
WHAT I WILL NEVER POST, THESE BEING THE THINGS I USED TO SHIT MYSELF LAUGHING OVER. (and we really should make miho look better then a hypocrite.)
1. questionnaires
"...how many times a week do you brush your teeth? or think about sex?"
erm?! i'd pass, thanks.
2. a list of things i want for my birthday.
really, no reasons needed. unless richard gere drops by my blog-of-2-posts. now
3, i guess. ask me. i'd take a leaf of out fay's book and tell you. (HEY FAYEE!)
3. cutsy pictures of me
'cause i don't have any. ruins my reputation as a "my ho".
4. in chinese
easy resolution to keep. han yu pin yin counts too. no offence, its only because of
my preprostrous standard at it. many can attest.
5. multiple online test results
unless it's freakin' rad.
Please note, this is not a sign of contempt for people who do the above. really.
...well except for number 3. and 5. oh and 2 too.
okay, everything but number 4, because i fully acknowledge that number 4 is on the list only because i'm bitter.
it's been a lovely and grammatically-hideous entry everyone. no head nor tail to it, loads of meandering, smeared my image even more and the blog would probably break one of the rules on the list for fun in the future. try not to take me too seriously darlings.
i have no idea what to blog. the delicate balance between what is my own fuckin' business and the other stuff is a circus trick that boggles my mind.
okay, it's me being lazy.
here's a shout out to my ever so persistent reader. yes, singular. my determined blogging mentor,
why the fuck is this so small?!
HELLO FIFI!
ignore the incredibly loud top that i am wearing. it almost glows in the dark. which is really helpful in my closet full of black, black, black and BLACK tops. fashion rut, anybody?
i call it slutty in the jungle.
fana brought up an interesting issue today.
can vegetarians eat animal crackers? or gummy bears or hello panda for that matter???
i reckon that it's a secret indulgence/deflection for them.
hello little fellow. what big feet you have. oooh, sorry there it goes. i wonder if you're really this chewy. does panda taste chocolatey? i'm not missing out on much then anyway right?
i'd always assumed that it was against their principles, until our hot debate on it eariler on msn. which happens to be a god sent for franticbusy friends, to remember why they completely adore each other.
i'm afraid of the prayer wheel my mom brought home last year. i came home to find that nosey woman in a fluster, because she'd pulled out the extremely thin sheet of prayer inscriptions to try to read (it was in arabic, or something equally unreadable to her) and it'd unravelled on its own. i didn't help much when i laughed and said that she'd better be careful, otherwise rolling it up the wrong way may curse us everytime she gives it a whirl. sort of like backmasking, wouldn't you agree? after various degrees of minor hilarity, we held it up, as still as we could, to see which direction it curled towards, then rolled it up and stuffed it back in. my smarty-pants idea! :)
we are on this topic because that little thing is sitting on the cupboard in front of me. i hope it understands the principle of good intentions.
to tie up this shit-for-brains entry that barely masks the fact that i'm typing in absolute nonsense, let's return to the subject of "it's hard to blog". what do i blog about? well i do know what i will NOT post..ah, make a list!
WHAT I WILL NEVER POST, THESE BEING THE THINGS I USED TO SHIT MYSELF LAUGHING OVER. (and we really should make miho look better then a hypocrite.)
1. questionnaires
"...how many times a week do you brush your teeth? or think about sex?"
erm?! i'd pass, thanks.
2. a list of things i want for my birthday.
really, no reasons needed. unless richard gere drops by my blog-of-2-posts. now
3, i guess. ask me. i'd take a leaf of out fay's book and tell you. (HEY FAYEE!)
3. cutsy pictures of me
'cause i don't have any. ruins my reputation as a "my ho".
4. in chinese
easy resolution to keep. han yu pin yin counts too. no offence, its only because of
my preprostrous standard at it. many can attest.
5. multiple online test results
unless it's freakin' rad.
Please note, this is not a sign of contempt for people who do the above. really.
...well except for number 3. and 5. oh and 2 too.
okay, everything but number 4, because i fully acknowledge that number 4 is on the list only because i'm bitter.
it's been a lovely and grammatically-hideous entry everyone. no head nor tail to it, loads of meandering, smeared my image even more and the blog would probably break one of the rules on the list for fun in the future. try not to take me too seriously darlings.
Thursday, January 5, 2006
Wednesday, January 4, 2006
Miho is a hypocrite sometimes.
Miho is a hypocrite sometimes.
whaaat?!
a blog from that girl, the one who ranted and raved about how narcissistic and superficial blogs were, declaring she'd never get one herself???
yeahhhh right.
Edited to Add:
Okay, okay, so my words came back to bite me in the ass!! A girl should only feel like an idiot so many times a day.
whaaat?!
a blog from that girl, the one who ranted and raved about how narcissistic and superficial blogs were, declaring she'd never get one herself???
yeahhhh right.
Edited to Add:
Okay, okay, so my words came back to bite me in the ass!! A girl should only feel like an idiot so many times a day.
Tuesday, January 3, 2006
Invictus, by William Ernest Henley
Invictus, by William Ernest Henley
Now, i do not claim to be good at literature, nor is this an attempt to be pompously important.
I have given up my much treasured chance to study lit as a student long ago, but am still yet a fan. This poem uplifts me whenever i feel invisible, dead and defeated; when even platitudes from my darlings can't.
Invictus by William Ernest Henley
OUT of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Now, i do not claim to be good at literature, nor is this an attempt to be pompously important.
I have given up my much treasured chance to study lit as a student long ago, but am still yet a fan. This poem uplifts me whenever i feel invisible, dead and defeated; when even platitudes from my darlings can't.
Invictus by William Ernest Henley
OUT of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)