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!

Cycle

How are things? I am going to try my best to record my observations and emotions of the day more regularly from now on.

In the last few months, I've learnt from my father not to take it to heart whenever my grandmother asked me for my name. Sometimes, she'd pause to concentrate on her breathing while telling me the story (for the eleventh time) of how she caught her roommate (sometimes it was the lady with a bandage around her head, other times it was the lady that- in my grandmother's opinion- was only pretending to be bedridden and in a coma) trying to steal from her secret bird's nest stash. But most of the times, it'd be to ask for my name. Yesterday, my grandmother asked me who I might be- the sort of question that can and probably will make you feel sadness if not asked rhetorically by your own grandmother.

She lost almost all meaningful locomotion the third time she tumbled out of bed in the middle of the night. I've seen her walking stick transform into a wheelchair, the same way I've witnessed her hair turn from grey to white and then to black. Instead of seeking a proper diagnosis concerning the return of my grandmother's hair colour, everyone has chosen to believe that it's a side effect of the concoction of drugs that have been prescribed to her. (I believe in magic.) As I watch my grandmother struggle to remember all the wars she'd fought in her life, I'm embarrassed by my own struggle to forget the days I'd ever suffered a hurt or endured an ache, which now seem almost miniscule.

My grandmother has also recently started inquiring about when she'll be able to go home again. Fortunately, the pressures of responding are often mitigated because it is hard to tell who these questions are being directed at, now that her eyes are ruined with cataracts. However, it's equally heart- rending to sit and watch my father (her son) try to put things into perspective for her.

Gtg.

Accept

Waking up at 6 30 AM for school (and NOT feeling like P. Diddy) every morning is such a trial..

I don't usually use thought to avoid participating in life but because the teacher didn't allow us to talk to one another or listen to our iPods (and I didn't know how to do my homework) during detention last Friday, I took the opportunity to think about my life- which I lived, but hardly ever thought about.

Watching my friends (some heartbroken, some in love, others just hanging around) and a few TV series (Brothers & Sisters, Gossip Girl, Skins, How I Your Mother), made me recognise and appreciate that most people have their own ideas and versions of love which are constantly evolving. I definitely can't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it means for me.

Currently, the tenet that love is not a feeling, but a capability seems to be gaining more momentum in my life. I don't know the exact significance of this, but I find it very moving when you ask someone to please take your heart- with all of its stains and scars- and they do. And they don't try to make you feel shame. And when they ask if you could do the same for them, you say yes. And you still want to be with them more than any other person.

Shaun gave me a red daisy last night which immediately put everything back in the places they belonged much quicker and more effectively than the quiet ever did. As much as this makes me feel uneasy and anxious, I guess sometimes it's all right to trust someone else to fix you up again.

Bons baisers.

Hiccup

Ay- oooo! This is gonna be quite hard for some of you to wrap your heads around, but I think my boyfriend is trying to kill me.

Similar to the idea of how gravity isn't only what makes us fall, but also what makes our muscles strong, my relationship with Shaun is currently tinged with ambivalence. (Ha ha ha.. Why do I always end up sounding like such a complete douche when I try to use bombastic language? Probably cause it is inappropriate in this format, but my mom says I should practice using the vocabulary words that I learn in school in my writings.)

I think very often, in the absence of vigilance, it gets hard to see the lines we've drawn until we cross them. Sometimes I wonder if I'm "asking for it" or being ridiculous by relying (too much on)/expecting (too much from) the ones I love, to pull me back from the brink and give me something to hold on to, because I haven't yet decided for myself if emotional self- sufficiency is more of an asset or liability. Quite frankly, I still don't know a single thing that I didn't know a year ago.

I'm very preoccupied at the moment, with finding all the possible reasons disappointment and grief runs through my autobiography. Hopefully, the clean and easy getaway I just made will let the quiet put everything back in the places they belong.

May boyfriends and girlfriends everywhere stop trying to kill each other. Goodnight!

Prozac

Hi. Reading the journal entries that I'd written a couple of years back- riddled with bad spelling and stupidities- reminded me of how inevitably, when you write something, you might later regret it. I kinda don't know what to write here anymore.. Ha ha.

Starved for entertainment and adventure, my friends and I have been visiting very sleazy bars in an effort to offset the diminishing thrill and novelty of drinking alcohol, as more of us turn 18. Last week, I got the chance to talk with a prostitute before filtering in and out of consciousness. I wish I had more to write on this, but I either only managed to say Hi or have a very bad memory. My friends and I should really reconsider getting into the habit of going to see movies instead.

Anyway, I've fallen in love (whatever that means) so many times, I'm starting to suspect that I haven't actually been falling in love at all, but merely doing something much more ordinary. I hope it's just the naivety/foolishness which comes with youth that incites me to love the next thing that will change my life, because repeatedly obsessing over the wrong people is going to be what kills me.

I begin a new term at school tomorrow. Goodnight, wish me luck!

Blame

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies because of blinding errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, and tarnishing.”— Anais Nin

Inferiority

Hello.. I apologize for disappearing yet again, but I've had my head buried in schoolwork all week! In preparation for my upcoming tests, I've been surviving on salmon and very little sleep. I am having an impossible time figuring out how to write proper topic sentences for my essays. Très frustrating.

Out of the proverbial blue Gerard came up to me the other day and said/stuttered, "Ju- ju- ju- us- ustine, I would fuck your boyfriend." This freaked me out because he used the f- word to mean sex- which is something that makes me uncomfortable, except when it's used in the context of 'f--- your mother' because I find it funny- and Gerard is a boy. But he saw this and quickly said, "Obviously, if I were a girl." Which (obviously) he thought was going to make me feel better, but instead I got this awful feeling that I think is jealousy, but I can't be sure, because I almost always feel fear before I feel anything else. Struggling for a reaction, I just laughed to mask my interior burn and then tried to pretend that he was dead.

I think I managed to forget my self- worth over the course of the week, which is a real pity because it's something I'd previously invested a great deal of time and energy into trying to define, redefine, and re- redefine. And I'd even gone on to do all sorts of absurd/extreme things as feeble attempts of justification. I wonder if it's just how I'm wired or if it's the odd little nook of time and space that we live in, that makes it so difficult to distinguish the thoughts that emanate from our darkness, and those from our light.

Anyway, Shaun and I thought we might eat something Korean last night, but with budget limitations being what they are, we ended up eating mediocre Japanese food. After that, we compensated ourselves with ice cream and frozen yogurt. Plus, a couple of fags (Shaun) and new high heels (self), which quite possibly might have been overcompensation.

Most of the time, I'm thinking too fast and my thoughts are like a trance, but they're there, and they won't go away, and sometimes I know I've got it wrong in my head, but things just feel that way sometimes. Being with Shaun makes my brain quiet, so yesterday was a nice way to wind down from what felt like a physically and emotionally depleting week.

I hope everyone had a smooth transition from February into March. Gtg.

Surprise

The RoboCop finally returned to school today after being posted to an undisclosed location (near Russia) on a top secret mission for 2 weeks. The information regarding Operation Kneecap (haha) remains highly classified. Thus, for the preservation of its confidentiality and protection of homeland security, I cannot reveal further details.

Not deceived by him writing "Kieran" on the top of his assignments or his Facebook account, I remain convinced that "Kieran" is an alias for Malcom. I also have a strong speculation that the twisted brown doodles drawn on his chest that peek out from his unbuttoned collar are optical fibers. As such, I will spend the next few days fine- tuning my theory about how he sprays on a tan each day to make himself look as if he was perfectly sculpted from chocolate to conceal his real identity: 20 years old, one part British, one part Annoying, mentally retarded.

During the initial days when "Kieran" first started walking with a limp and wearing a knee brace on the outside of his pants, he received a thousand waves of sympathy and support from 99.2% of the girl population at school. (The remaining 0.8%- my friends and I- can spot a chick magnet from miles away.) Unaware of his occupation as a ninja assassin and unimpressed by the manipulation of his pain for profit, I fully utilized/abused the chance to mock him with my fancy footwork and agility. Now remorseful and with a new- found respect for RoboCop "Kieran", I think that I will offer to do his homework for the whole of this week. (_|_ no.)

Otter

Shaun came over in the afternoon yesterday because it is part of his job description. If we were lucky enough, we watched Animal Planet while commercials were showing on The Discovery Channel, and The Discovery Channel while commercials were showing on Animal Planet. If we ran out of it, Shaun tried to make the TV explode by flicking through as many channels as his fingers would let him work the remote.

My brother Stuart used to- or still does, but I wouldn't know because we stopped watching TV together a couple of years ago when he bought himself a TV to put in his own bedroom- do this a lot, irregardless of whether the show was having a commercial break or not. Each time I filed a report against my brothers with my mom (which at that time was what I had to do almost hourly because making me cry was one of their top 3 reasons to live), she'd laugh and say that I would miss all of this when it stopped- something that seemed to defy logic back then, which I am beginning to understand now.

In the evening, I finally gave some money to the blind man who makes music (not Stevie Wonder) in the underpass in town. Even though it must have been my 2387984th time walking past the man, yesterday was the first time I actually paid any attention to him. To be completely honest, I would've snubbed him again, for the 2387985th time if only I'd bothered to charge my iPod the night before. Sometimes I think I believe in the future more than it is good for me. I'm very glad that I got to kiss my grandma (my father's mother) when I went to see her earlier in the day.

Eat

Long before we were obsessed or even slightly interested with the kinds of food (organic/GM/free range) we were putting into our bodies, before the statistics were 11 out of 10 people dying from chronic illnesses linked to obesity, or before it became fashionable to eat more of certain foods (brown rice, salmon, olive oil), my family was indoctrinated by our mother to adopt a diet that corresponded with our blood type.

As you are aware, the society in which we live in today favours unhealthy eating habits and behaviours while simultaneously glamourizing the Big Mac with the help of the media. My family (a mix of blood type A and O) is often victimized by other families (of curmudgeons) who show us no mercy at Christmas, weddings, and birthdays- where our habits of consuming enough fish and vegetables for a village whilst carefully avoiding the dishes laced with wheat, pork, or dairy, are exposed and then ridiculed.

Being a staunch follower of this dogma since a young age, I've become widely known for my absenteeism at social events arranged in fast food outlets, and more recently known for bringing food (unpolished rice and vegetables) prepared by my mother to eat in such places. In the eyes of many (unhealthy) people, I'm seen as gossip fodder. Hopefully, I do not suffer a heart attack before they do (or at all), otherwise I kind of wouldn't have anything to substantiate my efforts of forestalling diseases with a good diet. And this would obviously make me really pissed. Possibly even dead. (Either- or, because if I'm dead, then I can't be pissed. Vice versa.)

Anyway, even though I know giving up the whole concept of dessert would make the next 40 days more meaningful and super miserable (which I think is the purpose of Lent), but because I don't want to set my expectations too high or be overambitious, I have decided on chocolate to be my Lenten sacrifice this year. Unknowingly, I finished 2 Mars bars at 9:07 AM- I know this because I was hoping to get a text message from Shaun so I was checking my phone a lot- only to find out that they weren't pieces of broccoli at 9:15 AM. (Oops!)

Cya!

Waste

I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I got a pretty impressive bouquet of roses and at least 4 kg of chocolates for Valentine's Day. (I win.) Frankly, I don't know what else to do with a handful of flowers other than look at admire them, so that's just probably what I'm going to end up doing. I guess I could make a bowl of potpourri this weekend once they're withered..

Anyway, I stopped reading those self- esteem books when I started seeing Shaun a lot last year, and coincidentally, my bathwater stopped collecting between my bones shortly after that. I'm not sure of the significance of this- because it doesn't mean we'll always be together, nor does it mean that we don't hurt each other (unfortunately)- but I find it very interesting when people remain deeply enamored with each other sometimes because of who they are, and sometimes in spite of it. I think being with someone who knows what they have when they have me is one of the best things I've done for myself of late- aside from learning Mandarin (though unsuccessful, but just barely unsuccessful) and going for facials.

I bought myself a book today even though I'm only at page 89 of the book I bought 2 weeks ago, page 133 of the one I bought 3 weeks ago, page 40 of the one that got made into a movie- which I'm now learning didn't do any justice to the book, page 54 of the one my brother Jarrold gave me for Christmas, and page 96 of the one I'm reading for the forth time in less than a year. I should have noticed this sooner, but I think I've cultivated a potentially bankrupting (hence life threatening) habit of buying books whenever I feel particularly unhappy about something. Example: The time I excused myself to the toilet when I got upset with Shaun but wound up at the bookshop by accident, with my mobile phone switched off, where I spent 2 hours and half of my allowance.

Working on the assumption that I don't learn to control my emotions, inculcate within myself the virtue of thrift and become more receptive to the idea of borrowing books from the public library by the time I get my driver's license, I'd have felt unhappy enough times to run up a huge deficit.

Incidentally, there would be no more coal to mine on Earth, because coal is a nonrenewable resource which (as its name suggests) is nonrenewable. Taking full advantage of this opportunity and out of desperation, I would build a really large fire with all my books to create enough heat energy to power 2 small cities. (One being the city where I have a permanent address in, for obvious reasons.) I would extort the shit out of everyone by charging ridiculously high prices for a kilowatt hour of electricity. (Free electricity for loved ones. Duh. Unless they start leaving their water heaters on 24/7.)

My monopolistic reign will last for 5 years before what I thought was an undying fire, would eventually die. Being the short sighted kind of person that I am, I wouldn't have thought of a Plan B. Subsequently, I would say my goodbyes and then throw myself into a volcano.

On a lighter and less extreme note (eg: D flat or A sharp), buying a book is at least 5 times less destructive and harmful than crying excessively, beating other people up, breaking things, drinking alcohol, and snorting cocaine. As an emotionally spastic (but impossibly adorable and good looking) individual with a strong tendency towards escapism, I often withdraw from my community and believe that I'm the people in the book I'm reading whenever something unpleasant happens, mistaking it for an effective solution to every problem. But because it is way past my bedtime and I've always had very little perseverance and a lot of difficulty writing proper conclusions, I will end off awkwardly with a quote.

"Here's to books, the cheapest vacation you can buy" - Charlaine Harris

I will go read now. Until I am completely exhausted and have to go to sleep. Goodnight!

Mono

We celebrated Chinese New Year in college yesterday where I involuntarily danced a quick, impromptu, self- choreographed routine on stage. This inspired and spurred a lot of my friends (and non- friends) who don't know how to appreciate the art of dance to point, laugh, and call me names.

Many comforted me saying that "it could've been worse"- I could have involuntarily danced a long, impromptu, self- choreographed routine on stage, but didn't. (Oh. Phew??) Others (the obese, ugly, vicious, unkind, and inhuman. Obviously.) offered me no comfort whatsoever by validating that the embarrassment came to me deservedly, that I "should've saw it coming"- considering my presence in the form of spirit only during the practices leading up to the performance, and how unproductive sessions may be- or to put more accurately, are in fact- attributed to my disruptive, ADD type of behavior, if and whenever I chose to make a special appearance in flesh.

Uhh..... Whatever, man.

Shaun and I took a train into Chinatown to soak in a bit of the festivities last night. The area, gaudily decorated with red and gold as well as human litter, thrived with energy while locals and tourists thronged the streets. Salespeople using loudhailers along with gaga and frenzied gesticulations were impossible to ignore. (Try ignoring someone while he/she is having an asthma attack next to you.)

Living up to my reputation as the poster child of the idiom 'curiosity killed the cat', as well as other people's expectations of a mental retard, I got told off in a dialect I don't understand or speak, for fiddling with the flowering shoot of a pussy willow. Shaun watched me with a look of distaste as I, someone with an imperfect grasp of nutritional science, shamelessly gorged on free food samples as if my life depended on them.

Irritated by humidity, a fierce growing hunger and an inflated self- consciousness about my increasingly apparent Rexona deficiency, we sat down to share a barbecued stingray, something that I'd been secretly craving all week.

All right, that's all. May I be able to slow time down and resist succumbing to the forces of procrastination. Until next time, much love all!

Genius

I really should be more careful because I've been losing days as if they were just buttons or paper clips. My Chinese New Year's resolution is to slow down time. Shaun turned 18 early last month and I know this might be hard for you to absorb and understand, but I've let the dust in my room accumulate on this thing that I'd meant to give him as a birthday present. Devoid of a conscience and as if vying for the Most Awful Girlfriend '10 crown, his (so- called) birthday present is missing shiny wrapping and a bow, and even has its price tag still attached. I must try harder.

Actually, whatever. There is nothing but good music and bad silence on the phone right now. I would like to end my world shortly for today with sleep. Cya

Economics

Hello....... Been slammed at school all week, so it's quite great that tomorrow is Friday and that the day after is Saturday.

I (low self- confidence/unadventurous/afraid of the unknown) remember being totally intimidated by a lot of people this time last year. Now that I'm a "senior" at the place where I go to get an education, I've decided to dedicate the next few days to intimidating whatever fresh meat I can instead of completing my assignments. Who's with me? Ok, great. Rah, Nut, Char, and Jud, you four are in by default. (Haha.)

Time for bed.

Common

Last night Shaun had fried chicken while I ate a tofu salad because I'm starting to look like Deborah, who looks like ten pounds of dog shit in a five- pound bag. We shared a cup of calorific ice cream afterward which totally neutralized, if not reversed, the nutritional benefits of eating a tofu salad. (I love dessert!!)

My mind started misbehaving just as the street lights came on, which forced us into catching an early train home. My fears, exacerbated by excess/unnecessary baggage from my previous (truly traumatizing) relationship with a total douche, ran out of control. As a result, Shaun had to spend the remainder of the night putting things back into perspective for me.

My ex boyfriend had been cheating on me ever since we started going out. (Of course, everyone but me was clued- up. Obviously. Duh. Arrgh.) And when I say cheat, I wish I meant he got drunk once and fooled around with one girl and then felt bad about it. But there were several girls, on several occasions- drunk and sober. And I guess he never felt bad. Kind of like Tiger Woods. But way less cool.

Our relationship should have ended sooner rather than later, because he affected me in the worst way possible. Unfortunately, I was always ready to forgive because I was never told enough to make me want to stay away. And even when I was told a bit, I never did listen or believe enough. (Oops, my bad.) When I eventually found out enough though, it made me become so seriously retarded, and I couldn't help but doubt everything about everything- especially myself. If I had thought someone would notice or care, I’d have cut myself.

Although what he did was shitty and selfish, he did care about me (arguable, but true to a certain/small extent) and fold me a couple of hundred paper hearts. But love sucks when it's one sided, which is why you should always try to avoid it at all costs until you find someone who respects you as a person and makes you feel infinite. (And remember to reciprocate back.)

Good luck! Xoxo.

Hotel

I just remembered that I never got around to writing about the time I spent the night at Crockfords Tower, which was last weekend. So, tada!!

The Time I Spent The Night At Crockfords Tower by Justine

My parents make a continuous effort to demonstrate that their love for me is (at least) 10 times stronger than their love for my brothers and sister (combined). Even though if and whenever asked, they would never admit to this, I think we all know that actions speak louder than words. Naturally, I was the only one they brought with them to spend the night at Crockfords Tower. Initially upset about being away from home (one night is a pretty loooong time) and unaware of the 24- hour butler service available at the hotel, I went with equivocal enthusiasm/against my will.

The smell of paint filled the air in the car park. I love the smell of paint, but not in a dangerous/substance abuse way. (I'd rather sniff paint than car exhaust any day.) Actually, I'm not sure if it is the smell of paint that I love per se, or if it's because I associate the smell of paint with new stuff. (I love new stuff.) Speaking of smells, I love the smell of Lola by Marc Jacobs.

Anyway, they had a very elaborate and spectacular piece of glass art displayed behind the reception desk which caught my attention for 10 minutes. If you knew me, you'd know that my attention span for things like glass art is about 3 seconds. 10 minutes may be a slight exaggeration on my part, but I really do hope you think it's elaborate and spectacular when you see it. (Because it is.)

Uhhhh...... I can't remember much from last Sunday, except that our butler was really helpful and European (possibly Spanish). I was momentarily dispirited and even lost faith in the butler service when Christopher wouldn't help me write my essay outline or solve Math problems, but he redeemed himself (and the service) by getting me connected to the Internet.

After getting out of the steam room, I found a telephone to call Shaun with, and I did. Consequently, my dad ended up paying $20 for the phone call on Monday morning, which I think is kind of ridiculous. Not that much was even said that night, thanks to my mom who was insistent about putting Shaun on speakerphone and cuddling up next to me. (Even though it was already 1 AM and the bed was in the other room.)

I went to school with a backpack filled with undone assignments, which I guess made it just like any other Monday. (Or day, for that matter.)

-

This weekend my phone got stolen. More on this soon. Cya!

Joke

Hi. I didn't go to school yesterday because I was "too tired". Something (an excuse) I mindlessly blurt out to escape hardship/babysitting/doing whatever I don't want to. Yea yea yea, I'll get myself a new attitude over the weekend.

All of my favourite boys- boyfriend, (shit eating) ex boyfriend, skeleton boy from my closet- gathered at the bar last night for cheap beer. I don't think or know how I will ever get over the uncanny similarities (flat, excessively bitter, cloudy) that I share with cheap beer. I only wish I had noticed sooner.

Anyway, I hope I haven't become too cynical, but I refuse to take a heartbreak personally anymore. If you really think about it, we could be anywhere we wanted to and still be bruised in the same way by someone else anyhow. I just wonder sometimes (especially after being given a bruise) if I've been careful enough with who I invite into my life and if I've picked out the right people to matter.

Aside from that, I also wonder about/question the boundlessness of love and am beginning to suspect that it does have its limits. How much of yourself do you offer/sacrifice before you decide that they're not The One for you? On the contrary, how many times can you allow someone to submit themselves to you before you start to lose respect for them? I guess nobody really knows, which is why we simply (conveniently????) "accept the love we think we deserve". (Stephen Chbosky.)

I know things have been annoyingly random and/or vague on here tonight, but I can't help it because I'm thinking in incomplete sentences and no longer bother listening to new ideas. Swear I'll write normally in a couple of days. Cya.

Participation

Whassup....!

The Dynamic Duo (Sarah and I) visited the Boobie Booth at Overeasy for some cheap (free actually) thrills last night. We were both banking on her 36D breasts to get us a bottle of Belvedere to share (and then kill us), only to have our alcoholic dreams smashed into more pieces than what they were originally made up of when the judges offered them a C- cup rating instead.

To hide our disappointment, we observed 8 seconds of silence before proceeding to flirt shamelessly with the bartender. We convinced him to jack up the ratio of cranberry juice and vodka to something like 1 : 25, and ended up giving people the impression that our parents did a lousy job raising us/helplessly inebriated for the next hour or so. We also did an interview where we lied about being born in 1990 and pretty much everything else.

Unlike Sarah, I've never had anyone (besides Shaun) stare at my chest for more than 2 seconds or used my rack to get free stuff before, so the whole experience was very fresh and fascinating for me. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about society objectifying the female body, but I know I don't like it very much. Last night probably won't happen again.... (Vassup mom! Harlo dad!)

Afterward, Sarah (the cunning whore slut cunt) talked Husain into financing our transportation and then the cab driver into racing a Ferrari (effing hell????). 15 exhilarating minutes later, we were at Eugene's party struggling to sound in tune and like a band on Band Hero.

Anyway, I'll be spending the night at Crockfords Tower. I've got a butler. Fyl. (Yea!!!!!) (This is kinda awesome.)

Tithe

I feel strange today. Like death. Probably cause I got very little sleep last night. And I actually stayed in school till the sun was almost setting to finish up some of my assignments (despite being ideologically opposed to work), when I could've gone home at 2 PM to read a chapter of something by Malcolm Gladwell, a bit of Vladimir Nabokov and maybe even a trashy fashion magazine with lots of cleavage. (So weird.) I've been doing a lot of things that I wouldn't usually do, and at the same time, I've stopped doing a lot of the things I'd usually do. I think I might be growing up, or something.

The fact that I've refrained from trying to kill other people with my eyes (because it's lame and doesn't work) loans credence to this theory. And, with the exception of Monday morning when I told Judith her shoes were ugly (because they really WERE ugly and somebody HAD to tell it to her face), I say a lot of nice things now. Even though half/most of the time I'm insincere, I don't think anyone really minds or can tell anyway. I'm just giving diplomacy a chance.

Click this.

I almost forgot to wake up for school this morning. (My mom still thinks I forgot on purpose.) But the phone rang and I picked up. Shaun told me to have fun in school, I told him to have sweet dreams. (The time difference between Begonia Drive and Begonia Walk is about 12 hours.) Sometimes (especially before I get my period) I freak out and become so afraid of losing something/someone I love that I refuse to love anything/anyone at all, but then I remember that "adventure without risk is Disneyland" and it somehow helps me to stop wasting myself (and what I have) on fear.

(What is your deepest fear?)

Oh dear, I have typed so much. I got to go now. Goodbye grasshoppers

Agony

Hi! Sorry things have been so slow (or stagnant) around here. I've got a legit reason for my absence, though. Convinced that a cockroach ran over my foot in our backyard the other night, I spent the past week curled up in the fetal position, unable to reach my computer. The evidence is irrefutable. (An insect with a relatively small head and flattened body in a brownish hue with 6 legs, the size of my eraser.) Yea.... Terrifying.

Some might say I'm gallant for finally getting my shit together to make it out of bed and write something here. Others might say that I probably only saw a beetle, but they'd be wrong. (Duh.) If it really were a beetle, why did I scream and embarrass myself in front of my neighbours and risk waking up my insomniac dad? Think about it.... (It was a cockroach.)

Even though it's been only 11 days, and not feigning ignorance to how three quarters of the time I was scaring off most people I know (and didn't know) by acting like an f- ing crazy idiot because of either beer or intensified PMS, I love 2010.

Today was my 15th first day. I've always loved Mondays, but usually because I'm still partying from the Saturday. Thinking about it, this school thing does kinda suck a lot. Thinking about it some more, junior college is almost the best thing that could happen to anyone. I just hope I go places when this is all over.

We had 2 hours of China Studies today which I felt was a little unnecessary and inappropriate. (Overkill.) I scored 27/100 at the last exam I sat for, so it's probably best that I keep my personal opinions and feelings to myself. The first 20 minutes sped by like a Renault F1 car. (Uhh..... Not really. The room was conducive for sleep.) (I should know.)

My tutor gave us M&M's to eat, which almost made me want to idolize her. (I didn't, duh. "I am the Lord thy God. Thou shalt have no strange gods before Me.") I was also preoccupied with the boy sitting across me who refused to make eye contact with me. I hope he doesn't spread rumours about how I tried to steal his soul on the first day of our senior year, or something. I already have a creepy loner reputation which I worked very hard to earn for myself, and I'm not about to tarnish it with something like 'freaky soul thief'. (Hayl. No.)

My fascination with his dislocated shoulder eventually wore off, and the people who "couldn't find D02- 01" eventually found D02- 01. Then my tutor said something about Deng Xiaoping and something about Mao Zhedong, and then something else about economic modernization. (Or something, I'm not sure.) I just know everything went downhill after that.

I think I learnt some stuff (circular flow of income, differential equations, Coastal Open Cities) today, which is pretty cool and unusual and kind of a big deal for me. I normally go through most of my school term in a brain dead/laid- back/carefree way, and figure out the complicated and difficult curriculum towards the end of the year. (Late bloomer.)

Preparing for my exams almost gave me a heart attack last year, so I'm trying this new thing where I write my own essays and solve my own equations, and go to school and NOT sleep/space out while I'm being taught. Apparently, doing this will help you be above average (what I want to be) and get you into university (where I want to go). I'm going to be so pissed off if the world ends in 2012. (Ha ha ha..... No, seriously.)

Anyway, I got quite a lot of double takes on the train on my way to school and along the corridors in school today. I wonder if it's cause I look awkward and retarded tripping on my maxi school skirt in my (improvised) New Balance sports shoes that have an inverted 'N' drawn on on one side. Although, I did grab a pair of kitchen scissors the other afternoon to cut my hair (on impulse and without strategy), and I also started using a new brand of shampoo recently. My hair is pretty stunning these days, so it's hard to say.

Ok. Goodnight!