my blog is odd. totally.
i feel like smashing this computer to pieces.
totally ridiculed.

on another note,
i love my boyfriend.
i love complex, it's the prettiest accessory i've ever seen.
well, ever had, for that matter.
and i love you, ken.
smuckers. :)

1 day.
positive or negative?
paranoia.
this is really shit.
i hope my anxiety is uncalled for.

admist all the worries and more worries, i had a wonderful day, after so long. i finished my econs test, got caught by the teacher for sneaking away, got shouted at, then he rolled his eyes and dismissed us. oh, well. school is dump. i watched a movie, held hands, exchanged blows, got into a violent struggle, went for dinner, shared beancurd and felt the happiest girl. :)

your rough of your palm ensured security, the strength of your grip proved faith and the softness of your touch showed love.

happy 17th nasha!
have a good one.
whee. :)

school's such a dread.
this gp exercise is useless.
sheer waste of time.
i'm dying for water.
a desert inside me.

displaying a glorious stance.
be it intentionally or not.
puts me off.
swagger swagger and trip.

puffy eyes and dark circles.
i don't know how they got there when i'm not even staying up to study.
yet my study is getting sapped away, day by day.
i feel brittle.
really want things to get better.
maybe smashing my brain might help.

a country that floods with propaganda. the fact that every channel shows the same national day parade, national day rally, and whatever national-something. there we have politicians breathing down our necks on how good singapore is (implied: please don't migrate to somewhere else larger more spacious more interesting filled with numerous tourist attractions and entertainment with a choice of city and countryside) and how flourishing the economy is. ooh. it is another brainwashing attempt by the whites. i don't know if this is allowed. or i might be sent into exile, somewhere like christmas island? or pulau something?

knocking on heaven's door
Bob Dylan
Mama, take this badge up from me
I can't use it any more
It's getting dark, too dark to see
Feels like I'm knocking on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door
Mama, wipe the blood from my face
I'm sick and tired of the war
Got that old black feeling and it's out to trace
Feels like I'm knocking on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door
Mama, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them any more
Heaven's old black train is a-pullin' on down
Feels like I'm knocking on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door

mel would probably have loved this song.
i don't know. and i never will, i guess.
perhaps he would have liked this by pink floyd.
i miss you, mel. sometimes i still feel your presence around. i'm glad.

after that entry, another thought set me thinking.
part of me was telling myself to be independent. like, hell, just stop thinking of him and concentrate on yourself. the other part of me wanted to call him desperately.
no prizes for guessing which part won.
like pathetic or not.

a thought suddenly dawned on me that i may be doing a little too much.
sure i've mellowed from previous attempts but i can't help being a little more loving.
little cards, pretty candies, constant reminders, gifts and everything else.
a secretary, a classmate, a buddy, a someone-who's-constantly-there, a naggy mouth.
all that. and yes, a girlfriend, i almost forgot.
silly me, ha. ha. ha.
not reciprocated. nor taken seriously.
am i putting a little too much into this?
but then again, i was never good at math, so what the hell.
i should be happy doing this.
like i used to.
sometimes i feel weary because i feel like a secret admirer.
only an admirer.

some people just think the world of themselves. their la-di-da attitudes piss me off because they are in fact no better than the rest of us down here. trying to act all high and mighty when it's all an attempt to fill up the yawning hole in their self-esteem. we meet them everywhere, in workplaces (for that matter, in my mommy's office), in schools (lucky i have no direct connections with any here. well, so far.), well, basically everywhere. there are other idiots complementing the feigned, and these are called boot lickers. i don't know. such people just get on my nerves. so thick-skinned i think they can replace the poor elephants who are going into extinction. and the fact that i bother makes me just as much the same. i mean, why do i?

human.

whatever shit comes, lick it.

i am nothing but a jealous bitch.
a secret fantasy to go around slashing people's throats, deflating their breasts, smashing their spectacles into their sockets, forming bloodstains on their stomachs the first initial of their names, replacing their contact lenses with their own fingernails, bursting their own eardrums with their own painful screams.
and finally,
they will call me princess, and my face will be the last they'd ever see.
slurp.

i need an explanation.
my arms are sore.
i got stiff shoulders.
my joints are aching.
my toes are dead.
how come the heart's still working?
explain.
fuck the world because we all chew on dicks.
i ain't making any sense.
maybe i sound like woodstock.
he talks sticks.

some people live to blog.
it's really a miracle how they can blog every single thing they come across every day.
it's so precise it's unbelievable.
well, we're all out there to get something, yeah?
i hate the word yeah.

the finger stretched out
like an oar to the boat
it came up
it went down
in an unusual rhythm
it took a while
before it felt the moist waves
i winced
shoulders shuddered
there was a jerk
held my feet together
in a twisted manner
it didn't last as long
and it was all calm again.

fahrenheit 9/11 is like so unsingaporean. haha. for once, america is good in one thing-liberty. goddamn admire moore for such guts to produce this political allegory. it's like really heavy, really serious (i bet i sound like an 8-year-old) and still heavy. it was extremely funny, mocking bush and all that. the whole audience had its silent, serious, sorrowful moments but moore managed to lighten the atmosphere with many interesting allusions and comic-like scenes. he is like really daring, and i seem like a frog in a well now. s for strict, solemn and sucky. there was a part about a mother, whose son was an american soldier killed in the iraq war, made me sob like hell. the girl next to me was too, for her boyfriend was comforting her frantically. haha. the movie or commentary had so many intriguing footages we wonder how moore managed to get hold of them. incredible. deep insights. this quote from the movie, a parent is not supposed to bury his child, has left impressions on me.

if you were around, it probably wouldn't be so hard now. how am i supposed to carry on?

a
l
o
n
e
,huh?
loser.
pathetic shit.
to the moment of degradation of the female species.

how they greet each other with hostility.
how we quarrel over same subjects perpetually.
how we fail to come to a resolution in the end.
how we cease to agree as time passes by.
how the other never seems to pay attention to any of my words.
how they failed terribly.
how we failed terribly.

this is a silent violent fight.

copious assignments.
ailing powers of concentration.
how?

this is fucking torturous.
i am never going to do these to my children.
or maybe, i would.
can't help being revengeful.

compulsive.
guilt.

i trimmed my hair yesterday and it feels so good. although it was only like an inch or two.
so duper sleepy.
and i am so glad that i go to school with ken in his daddy's car every morning. it surely beats the goddamned morning crowd on public transport. i spent half of my time in school bitching about a particular classmate. woo-hoo. it really reminds me of my secondary school days, where we bitched and bitched. of course, my bitch kakis were definitely more engaged and spontaneous. all the over-cubicles gossip and washroom talk made us look like bimbos. perhaps that earned us a name. am i glad. i have certainly mellowed ever since i entered college. after all, the people in college aren't as exciting. i cannot forget the battles we fought, especially min and me, the wars we had. haha. bitchhhhhhhhhh. the joy of gossiping. makes me feel like me all over again. also makes me miss those times.

the bitch vs the slut.
lol.

i watched the notebook today. it's the typical sappy romance. the plot was pretty predictable. but i guess i need the sweetness. haha. i had a wonderful ktv session. you guys never fail to make my day. and i'm off to town tomorrow, i'm soooo glad. wheee.

i wish i lived alone. the noise they make make an heart go an extra beat. i'm afraid it's getting too much. the window looks simply enticing.

was it hilarious. hahaha. i had such a feat watching singapore idol. contestants making fools of themselves. ridiculously funny. but the judges were really trying a tad too hard. i guess they wanted to pass off as some witty idiots. never mind those high-enders. i think dick lee is like so suave. he is like, i don't know, good-looking? i never saw him in that light. as a man approaches his later years, he looks better and better. maybe not my dad, but dick lee. some of the idol-wannabes are really humiliating themselves. shit them, they almost killed me. mommy and i were like enjoying this mockery. it was like bloody funny, no other word than funny and hilarious. haha. i can't wait for the next episode. this is shit, i'm going to take one hour to watch this unproductive crap every week. haha.

here i am, there at it again.
consuming pralines at this hour, pure bliss. thanks to dad.
and do not question my candy intake.
sugar keeps me going. sugar prevents boredom. sugar rids me of unwantedness.
without chocolate, i am capable of mistaking a piece of granite for a candy.
and i might eat it. crackkkk.
my homework looks like a scoresheet to me.
although mummy's coughing badly, i thank her for that.
she makes me know that i'm not alone here.
but
chocolates and parents do not do it all.
-missing-

i do not even need eyedrops to keep my eyes moist anymore.

i saw a pretty picture today.
it was this girl who held a gun in her hand. her body was black in colour.
she shot herself in the head. the head was like a splash of blood.
droplets of the blood slowly morphed into red, cute butterflies. they flew away, one by one.
death is metamorphosis.
death is freedom.
death is an art.
even suicide can be.

the boys in poly are far better looking than those in college.
alot better looking.
it's highly possible that the worst looking pretty boy in poly will beat the best looking one in jjc (if there is one) hands down.
this dump of a place is seriously lacking in eye candy. let's not talk candy, let's talk sugar-free clorets. not even a mint.
i get my share from other colleges. i raise eyebrows, and take second glances.
i get my bigger share from commonly-clothed but hair wonderfully-styled-and-coloured poly boys.
-the flat face, small nose, closed mouth with a slight pout and curious eyes. maybe they belong to college but i don't really bother.
the look in their eyes make me feel like a big sister, rescuing them from their lost depths.
-the sparkling whites, the lop-sided smile, strong physique and golden tan. maybe they belong to poly but again, it doesn't matter.
the defined curves along the biceps (and calves!) make me go weak in the knees. i want to be embraced!
and i wonder if there are any regrets.
oh, my pretty boy.
on that note,
oh, my pretty boys!
i feel like bitching all over again.
like how we used to back in school.
Bitch.
hello.

i make myself sound so pathetic.
yes, i make.
life isn't so bad, after all.
really.

i was counting. i lost count. because i forgot where we left off. i continue the count. do i stop now?

not enough for me.
maybe it will never be enough. never enough time to see you, to feel you.
i appreciate the constant reassurances that we'll compromise and work things out, that we'll be fine, that we'll weather this and emerge victorious.
but sometimes, the promises we make become so constant they turn redundant. they turn into hangers on which nothing hangs.
but sometimes, i reach out to hopes of us and they're so distant.
unreachable, untouchable.
i find it hard to breathe whenever the hands separate.
the void in me balloons and takes up so much space that there is none left. nothing left of myself.
i get emptied upside down everytime i watch after your disappearing back.
i'll get accustomed to this slow rhythm of breathing. tell myself i'll survive.
but there's difficulty hanging on when i'm walking around with a gaping hole the shape of you.
i'll get used, i'll get used.
meanwhile,
i'll will continue to live in pictures of us and smile at hearing your voice at the receiving line.
but not so frequently.
but why do my cheeks still glisten?

please don't cross my mind.
i think you already did.

if there were no words
no way to speak
i will still hear you
if there were no emotions
no way to feel inside
i will still feel for you.

what about you?

madness. tortured. mentally and physically.
deprived.

i really am clueless about coral reefs.
i just miss you.
i want to get my darned handphone repaired. but i can't bear to part with it.
i need to chill. literally. because i'm burnt. the sun was scorching, sort of.
i must get a trim. soon.
my arms are aching from all that swimming. yet the flabs stay and stay like concrete.
i just miss you.
my back is burning.
my scalp is hurting.
i ought to get a new pair of specs. real, black plastic ones.
i'm picking at dead skins again. i am a human exfoliator.
i have a sudden urge to shoplift. steallllllllll.
i just miss you.
i am stuck blogging.
my homework is NEVER going to get done.
i am going out tomorrow again.
i have been out from morning till night everyday since last tuesday and will do so till the next.
i still miss you.

hope you're having fun at the gig. and of course you painting the town red. when you are supposed to be completing your long-overdue assignments. haha. i miss you. but i guess your few phonecalls every now and then will just have to suffice.

i can't fall asleep. it's as if torrents are washing in my mind, it's as if it's turbulence keeping my mind going, it's as if the choppy waves make up my mind, it is intolerable without you by my side.

i was supposed to be online looking for stuff on coral reefs (why, at this time) and, surprise, surprise, i ended up here. i wonder how many are reading this blog. perhaps the people i dislike most are actually regulars. it's funny how you want to know about the enemy's life while you feel like giving that person one tight slap each time you meet. if you're one of those, and you practically hate me, here's a hello to you. =) and no, i don't know who you are.

i think that deejays should review all phone calls received from the public for bad english.

dj: so, what are you planning to do this weekend?
caller: erm, see movie?
dj: oh, are you a movie buff?
caller: ah, yah. ( the 'yah' was convincing in letting me know that he doesn't know the meaning of 'movie buff'.)
dj: go on and dedicate a song.
caller: i want to deligate to my girlfriend...

singapore. i don't know. radio stations should be the first in promoting good english. we cannot blame anyone but ourselves for seven-eighths of the population using such poor english.

it wasn't as good as i expected. all the hoo-ha about nothing really spectacular. the village builds up suspense like three-fifths of the movie and then i was pretty deflated by the time the show approached the ending. to think that 'those whom we don't speak of' are just a farce (yes, quoted from movie). it's pretty disappointing because we were all expecting a good one, just as his previous makings. i want to watch fahrenheit and notebook. i'm pretty sure i'd leave the cinema sappy and sobby after the notebook. ho-hum. why isn't porno made into a movie? and i made a oath that i'll visit edinburgh in time to come, if i'm not already staying there.

i had a nice time shopping with mommy again. really, it's been long. and what's the big hype with glutton square. i expected to see gluttons downing food like water but all i saw were queues and more queues. there were few stalls and their exorbitant prices don't help. but we don't blame singaporeans for queuing and queuing and queuing for some hawker fare that can be found somewhere else less crowded, and just as good. after all, singapore is a small place and people do get bored.

life is mundane.

p/s: min, if you read this, just wanted to let you know that i dreamt of you last time. we shared a cab home after shopping in town. see how much i miss the old times? boo-hoo.

sheer narcissism.
i love you, lynn.
jumpy-bumpy.

dripping drops of gunshot.
it's gone, isn't it?
screaming blasts of knife-wound.
it's gone, isn't it?
tell me something.
nothin's going to work.
just let it burn.

the pot hung. simmered. spilled. dropped.
into the fiery blue flames.

happy 18th birthday rachel!

had a fun day in town, especially at the glass house. if i had pictures to post of rachel's great feat, i would. haha. cheers.

my life just rocks.
the only bad part is that i feel as if i'm branded a fucked up loser each time i try.
other than that, my life is heaven.
i just keep on dying.
doesn't make sense, anyway.
this is really a cheap solution to gain attention.

curse me inside, throw me the slaps i deserve.