Trap

Oh, blog. Hi. Just a quick update since I am up at 7 AM on a public holiday with no real plans other than to paint my nails a different colour from what I'd usually paint them. Some things I could do: get my hair trimmed, eat yogurt, read Russh, update my iTunes....

I had a time crisis a few days back. It's ridiculous that I still haven't gotten a grasp on the nature or concept of time. (Wth happened to May??) I should start planning my hamburger costume for Halloween if I want to celebrate it at the end of October like most Americans, instead of on some random day in November.

Dedicated most of my time to finishing up my school term. Now, I'm quite relieved that the term has more or less drawn to a close because it's left me frustrated and pessimistic and defeated (triple whammy), even though what I want to and should be is happy and alive. I'm constantly being told by the media that these feelings of dissatisfaction and emptiness are fueled by much bigger, underlying issues in my life. Perhaps lately, I've been consuming too much of the wrong kind of soda, listening to the wrong songs, and also shopping for all the wrong labels. I don't think many people realise how much effort it takes to filter through what we should and shouldn't believe. On some days, I'll mindlessly swallow all that is told to me and accept that I'm not good enough without an Apple product or this season's Chanel clogs.

I made my mom cry at breakfast yesterday. (Unintentionally.) Better than never, I mumbled an "I'm sorry" 7 hours later. She's still pretending that she cannot see me so I'm going to lie down next to her and try to make her laugh, which is necessary, because that would mean I'd been forgiven and that she loves me again.

Anyway, I think I'll go on adventure later on in the day. I should probably call Shaun first- at a reasonable time like 4 PM- because it can be dangerous to go on an adventure alone. Shaun is a more levelheaded person than I am, which means he's very much in control of his emotions, doesn't get upset as quickly or as easily as I do, and makes logical decisions. He also jaywalks much better than I do, which is why we hold hands whenever we cross streets. We hold hands while walking along streets and in shopping malls as well, but with motives that I feel have nothing to do with safety.

There are other reasons why I'd call Shaun, too, reasons much more poetic but just as authentic. Hopefully, I find another day to share them with you.

Gtg. Have a good weekend..

Pure

Hello good people.

Just like how my fighting fish, hamsters and rabbit all died many years ago due to profound disinterest and negligence on my part, so too have most of my cozy friendships. In a weak effort to restore (possibly even reconstruct) the bridges that carelessness has eroded and time has worn, I spent my entire evening drawing graffiti on people's walls on Facebook. Hopefully after this I will have everyone that I care about back in my life- if not real, at least virtual.

Anyway, as someone possessing a naturally paranoid disposition, compounded by social factors that make it appear not only possible but also probable that other (cunning, evil, and fat) girls are trying to steal Shaun away from me, I can't help but think that other (cunning, evil, and fat) girls are trying to steal Shaun away from me. Hiiiii- ya!!! (Karate chop.)

Asked more to myself rather than to elicit any real answer, can and should they be blamed when Shaun, with his vintage leather bag slung over his ectomorphic body and witty words, is suave, charming and irresistible? (Heh, I'm so lucky!)

I have to go now, bye! Depending on my memory's limitations and imagination's nudgings, I may or may not write more on this. Take care!!

Aurora

What up. I've squandered too many days being angry at the way my past is always annoyingly and successfully inserting itself into my present, but for the most part of the time that I hadn't written here, I was engrossed with Shaun and school work, interspersed with trivial worries about what colour to polish my nails for the weekend. Anyway, the sun has been so relentless in its efforts to transform anything alive into a festering variant of beef jerky in the last couple of weeks, that I almost want to idolize and worship anything below 25°C- air conditioning system, glass of banana smoothie, stick of Magnum ice cream, swimming pool, etc.

Amidst the frenzy surrounding 'Fried Food Wednesday' in the school canteen at recess, I failed to defend my brown rice after Zac made a comment about children in Africa eating more satisfying lunches than I do. This garnered conspiratory giggles from everyone at the table. Convinced that I'd been conned by the 60- something year old vendor, whose skin- leathery, tanned to permanence, but not in an unflattering way- reminded me of my own late grandfather's, I was too vexed about being served less vegetables than what I had paid for. Thus, I now have serious reservations about my ability to spearhead the Brown Rice Movement.

Cya!!

Strobe

Hello. I tried to concentrate on the slide show presentation on China- Japan relations today, but really felt like committing seppuku at the back of class instead.

Anyway, the first year students campaigning for a seat in the next student council have put up posters of their faces tagged with cheesy slogans, marring most surfaces around our college campus. I hate and dread these kind of things because it's something I wouldn't and simply couldn't do, as I've never seen myself as someone with much/anything to offer.

I also think that trying to prove yourself to a largely uninterested (and starving) crowd is quite ridiculous and may even alter your personality. During recess, a few candidates made speeches explaining all that they'd accomplished while emphasizing their deep- seated desires to become servant leaders, naturally fluffing up their work a bit (or a lot), like pillows on a couch.

Some of them ended up becoming this perky and gung- ho version of themselves that a lot of people find revolting. I have observed that most people look down upon gung- ho people, and nobody ever considers themselves as someone gung- ho. Fortunately, this gung- ho- ishness seems confined exclusively to campaign activities. Otherwise I think the mood on campus is utterly casual.

Anyway, Shaun did a pretty extensive Google search on insomnia, and rubbed lavender oil on my temples for me the other night. Immediately after that, he began snoring like a garburator. He'll probably try to deny this and accuse me of being an exaggerator and call you a moron for believing me, but do not be taken in.

Have to go. My uterus is attempting to self- destruct now.

Same girl, just more visible eye bags.

Burst

I opened my eyes this morning the same way I'd opened them yesterday, and all the other mornings before. It seems like I only know one way to do this- both my eyes at once with their pupils dilated- and I'm beginning to think that perhaps there exists just one way to wake up. The only times I saw anyone waking up one eye at a time were on the TV, and it probably wasn't natural. Or maybe it was and even something I'd done before, but never noticed. 'Observant' and 'meticulous' used to describe me quite accurately. I used to care a lot about details- gel or wax or mousse in his hair, "no pepper in my soup, please", silver earrings clashing with her gold chain, Justine vs Justin, etc. I don't know why I ever stopped.

My Chinese teacher says my Mandarin has improved. I think it's great that I could be improving on something without noticing. Alternatively, maybe I'm not noticing anything because there simply isn't anything to notice. My Chinese teacher was very impressed by the fact that I still remembered how to write all three characters of my Chinese name. Like, I think she almost wanted to give me a sticker, or something. She doesn't expect much from me. Clearly. (She thinks I'm autistic.) (I've no idea why.) (I wish I were joking.)

Aside from opening my eyes this morning and contrary to how most people think I lack the presence of mind to self- deprecate, I wasted 10 minutes criticizing myself aloud in front of my mirror. I usually only allocate 2 minutes for intensive self- loathing each day, where I spit insults out at my reflection as if they were pubic hair, or else I'm as good as a shaken soda bottle for the rest of the day. I also walk into glass doors and fall down flights of stairs wherever possible, because slitting one's wrist has become a rather corny idea of self- mutilation in my mind.

I managed to successfully finish a bowl of oats without making a mess while my mom weaved us in and out of impatient morning traffic, which made me feel kind of great about myself.

Anyway, I've slept more or less 56 hours in the last 14 days, which explains why my energy has been coming in surges that vary in length from 20 seconds to 6 minutes each time. So, it's quite important that I fall asleep tonight.

Now I have to go imagine a scrawny, rib- showing frame that is Shaun in my arms. Be well, bye!

Galaxy

Yea so, what's up? My soul is currently being ambushed with old emotions.. Which, as much as I find totally retarded and unnecessary, cannot be helped.

Just spent the past five hours lying on whatever floor that I could find in my bedroom, save for the half hour I had to get up to eat dinner with my father and brother at the dinner table. Thus, 3,340,093 brain cells that could have been used toward a formula for world peace or writing an essay on China- Taiwan relations were obliterated. The floor seems to be my room's purgatory, the halfway point for everything I've eaten, broken or worn in the last eight months. Something should be done.

So long, and thanks for all the fish!

Drone

Woke up before my alarm rang today and counted till 638, and then I knew I had to get out of bed to brush my teeth. Just like any other day, I rode the car, train, and bus to school. Many people are turned off by this as it gives the deceiving impression of a long and troublesome journey, but what they've failed to consider is the convenience and efficiency of our public transport system today. (Being driven all the way to school would totally rock too.)

Happened to see Quinten and his girlfriend exchange sandwiches they'd made each other, which was very sweet to observe. I came up with a short list of possible benefits and problems associated with studying in the same school as your boyfriend/girlfriend. Getting my education from an all girls' school for most of my life and not being a lesbian, is a circumstance that never presented me with the opportunity to shit where I ate. And when there were boys, like now in junior college, they'd look at my chest and think I was one of them.

The only other coed institute I've studied in is kindergarten, where I got married to my classmate Alex within the first year. (I guess we all know how that turned out.. But he really was so good at phonics.) We never saw each other again after graduation, which made it a sad goodbye that wasn't actually said.

Anyway..

Stood awkwardly at attention as the flags were raised into a cloudless sky, and thought about the probability of either Quinten or his girlfriend making their sandwiches with peanut butter. (Low: If they were aware of the nutritional value of peanut butter and if it was true love.) Nobody actually sings the national anthem or school song, but when someone does, it's usually sung really loudly by this one particular boy- in the wrong key with the words mispronounced- which I think is supposed to make people laugh. And it does, or at least it did, the first couple of times, because after that it just became annoying.

Despite being guilty as charged, I've never really understood the rationale behind patriotism being a social taboo, especially among people in Generation Y. Even though we've been lucky enough to have never known poverty or war personally, sometimes I think it's a waste that the advantage hasn't made us golden.

As a colonel in the air force back in his heyday, my father seldom allowed me to forget the efforts of our government to raise life expectancy and literacy, while simultaneously curbing inflation and unrest.

In spite of always being given the best seats (after the president and prime minister) at the National Day Parade, the funpack lost its incentive effect over us as we grew older, and those (often my mom and I) who lacked the mental capacity to think up excuses quickly were bestowed the honour of accompanying my father (often against our will).

While an underground economy emerged for these highly sought- after tickets, they were handled like hot potatoes by my family. Year after year, we'd try to evade this obligation until finally, my mother's leg got so bad, Karen was worn out from fussing over her children, Jarrold was too busy appeasing his girlfriend, Stuart couldn't feign more interest even if he tried, and I thought I was too cool to be seen dressed in red and white on the 9th of August with "Made in Singapore" tattooed across my forehead- my father went alone. (A couple of people managed to spot him during the live telecast of the parade.)

Anyway..

Got through another tutorial in school without actually doing the tutorial. Today would've marked an astounding 98 streak combo if only I hadn't been exiled to the back of the classroom by my Geography tutor earlier in the week, for not completing the assignment on flood management.

My flirtations with despair and refined sugar seem to have intensified in the last few days. I also think I'm losing too much blood because my hand is feeling very limp at the wrist and as if it is going to fall off. I'm going to lie down now, and count down the 7 minutes that an average person takes to fall asleep.

Have a good weekend!