I can't pronounce "S".

a kiss with a fist is better than none

2009-12-04T18:15:00.001+08:00

34

2009-10-06T18:04:00.001+08:00

i promised erica that no emo post should ever be written on this page(unless i am undergoing severe pms). so i am back..trying to blog as soon as possible..cant promise daily(or even weekly) updates but i am sooooooo active on my tumblr. i swear i log on more than 5 times a day and can spend the whole night browsing through it like an addict. it’s so interesting, very pretty and different.

exam starts in less than a week. i have paper 3 of all science subjects next week and i am freaking out and screaming in my head. trying to cram as much experiments in my head and in between that, trying to revise and not fall asleep. stress! i am terrible at add maths. i really cannot do it. no matter how many exercises i do, how many of the formulas i memorize and how prepared i feel i am, when the question is in front of me, i blank out. and i make some of the dumbest, most careless mistakes ever. my workings are often everywhere, crossed out, and scribbled over. at this point, i cannot remember how to do logarithm, coordinate geometry, circles or statistics aka all the chapters after quadratic functions. i will die. i have to crash course my add maths in 10 days or i will die. i will die.

and no, i dont care abt my physics. i still dont get it + never will.

i am obsessed with diamonds. on wrists.

so yes, started my revision. started the stressing and worrying. will not be breathe easily until finals is over, and i get my paper back and then it’s bye bye malaysian education system. bye bye to sejarah and all those obscenely long arabian names, bye to the absolutely ridiculous, appallingly redundant and useless formats for pmoral, bm in general and lousy ict. (still cant believe i am leaving btw)

been doing some fun stuff in school to cool off the building stress over finals. like, havent sat in my designated place for more than 15 minutes. everyone’s kinda moving arnd, chairs everywhere, papers float arnd randomly and table are so haphazardly arranged that no one can walk arnd without turning or twisting their bodies. four, five, sometimes six, people crowded arnd a table. alot of chatting, listening too and talking abt ominous finals with our teachers. writing big big confessions and deep dark secrets, collecting photos, doodling caricatures and composing/copying poems for our time capsules. played with rabbits and mass ordered tehcpeng, fun. we ordered mcd yesterday.. more like i did and we printed our hand and footprints in paint for charity. we tried to dance to beyonce’s single ladies and we also have been migrating frequently to the unused, haunted block because it has practically the most cleanest and toilet-paper-abundant restrooms in the entire school. those 15yearolds are sitting for their pmr tomorrow. best of lucky, you lucky bastards. wish i could got back to last year. everything was so much simpler and got scared over pmr for no big reason.

okay so, this is my none emo post. yay. gossip girl episode 3 out today. go dwld people. :)

will leave you with some pics of diamonds(because i will one day permanently print one on my wrist) and crazy friends and love and how it’s october again.

WTF IT’S OCTOBER AGAIN. :O :O

2009-08-06T14:36:00.001+08:00

For a few months now, i’ve been questioning why i love writing.Why, penning words and paragraphs appealed to me and why i get excited whenever i see books, or feel the crispness of pages. Why i believed vehemently that no form of writing should ever be regulated or disallowed. Writing to me seems as natural as talking, only everything i write or type is printed out in black and white.

And for a few months now, i realize why i loved writing. Not because it’s a hobby, or a sport, not because it’s something that i am fairly okay at and not because i wanted to win prizes and make others feel redundant.I write because, like Anais Nin said :

"If you do not breathe through writing,
if you do not cry out in writing,
or sing in writing,
then don't write,
because our culture has no use for it."

Why write if you are going to see the worst in others writing? Why write if you do not use your heart or promise yourself to it? Why judge, if you are not one who would try to understand another person’s perception and vision? I am in love with words, and i will wait, with cupped hands, for them to overflow.

Words cant save us, i would admit. Not all things make sense and sometimes words fall short of the bigger picture. But i see how people around me are bounded and tied up in all types of predicaments and dissatisfaction. It scares me to know that whatever i say, whatever words i write or try to reason with, it wouldnt make a small dent of improvement to how they are feeling.

I see sacrifice in most of their faces and then i see the faces of those who have changed.Those who i cannot seem to speak to without feeling like i am talking to someone else entirely. There is almost nothing i can say or write or offer to try to make all of these things clearer. All i can do is watch everything unfold, like a terrible nightmare as every part of the road we’re walking on, is peppered with potholes and traps.

Do we have what it takes to let the past go and move on? Do we know each other and ourselves well enough to make all of this better? Are we strong enough to brave the undertow together? No one can fully justify who we are, no one can ever take our purposes away from us.

There are so many parts of the things that had happened, and are happening now, where you can see right through all the obstacles.

This time everyone has the best intentions. But everything’s lost in translation. Two years from now, would of all these things that are happening matter to you? Would it shape who you are, mould you and make you a person you will be proud of? Would it matter if you won or you lost, if you are belittled in other eyes, others who are not inclined to even remember you after you leave, would it matter if you gave up, would it matter if you emerged on top or kept to yourself or if you fought for your own right? Would it matter if you got what you wanted, if you wore a red tie, if you have a badge on your blazer or a position under your name? Would it matter?

Or are the people who actually know you, who cares abt everything you are and made of, the ones who would make all the difference to you?

I cant watch this, and feel nothing. I feel everything.

33

2009-08-03T16:25:00.001+08:00

under the spot light

neither black or white

it doesnt matter

:)

32

2009-07-25T20:14:00.001+08:00

okay update. short one.

Damai was extravagant-bestest-awesome-i-love-every-minute-of-it-ness

doing lotsa stuff for Interact night. woohoo.

NEON, PEOPLE!

that means BRIGHT, FLUOROSCENT, INCASDESCENT, STUNNING & STRIKING.

we’re giving you a chance to STAND OUT.

so ~~dont~~ try NOT to go in black or white. go wild. use your imagination. it’s one night to live in technicolour and watch the room combust into millions of sparks and glitter and luminosity.

i cant wait. the music, the decor, the dancing, is gonna be off the hook!!! :D

Omg..what a masterpiece.

2009-07-16T17:40:00.001+08:00

Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out--Richard Siken

Every morning the maple leaves.

                               Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts

            from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big

and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out

You will be alone always and then you will die.

So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog

         of non-definitive acts,

something other than the desperation.

                   Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I couldn't come to your party.

Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I came to your party

         and seduced you

and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing.

                 Your want a better story. Who wouldn't?

A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.

Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on.

What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.

            Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly

                                      flames everywhere.

I can tell already you think I'm the dragon,

                that would be so like me, but I'm not. I'm not the dragon.

I'm not the princess either.

                           Who am I? I'm just a writer. I write things down.

I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure,

             I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow

         glass, but that comes later.

              And the part where I push you

flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks,

            shut up

I'm getting to it.

                                    For a while I thought I was the dragon.

I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was

                the princess,

cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle,

          young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with

confidence

            but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess,

while I'm out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire,

                       and getting stabbed to death.

                                    Okay, so I'm the dragon. Bid deal.

          You still get to be the hero.

You get the magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights!

                  What more do you want?

I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you're

            really there.

Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?

               Let me do it right for once,

             for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes,

you know the story, simply heaven.

                   Inside your head you hear a phone ringing

                       and when you open your eyes

only a clearing with deer in it. Hello deer.

                               Inside your head the sound of glass,

a car crash sound as the trucks roll over and explode in slow motion.

             Hello darling, sorry about that.

               Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we

lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell

                                    and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.

            Especially that, but I should have known.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together

            to make a creature that will do what I say

or love me back.

                  I'm not really sure why I do it, but in this version you are not

feeding yourself to a bad man

                                       against a black sky prickled with small lights.

            I take it back.

The wooden halls likes caskets. These terms from the lower depths.

        I take them back.

Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.

                                      Crossed out.

            Clumsy hands in a dark room. Crossed out. There is something

underneath the floorboards.

                   Crossed out. And here is the tabernacle

                                    reconstructed.

Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all

               forgiven,

even though we didn't deserve it.

              Inside your head you hear

a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you're washing up

            in a stranger's bathroom,

standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away

                           from the dirtiest thing you know.

All the rooms of the castle except this one, says someone, and suddenly

                                    darkness,

                           suddenly only darkness.

In the living room, in the broken yard,

                           in the back of the car as the lights go by. In the airport

          bathroom's gurgle and flush, bathed in a pharmacy of

unnatural light,

             my hands looking weird, my face weird, my feet too far away.

And the the airplane, the window seat over the wing with a view

           of the wing and a little foil bag of peanuts.

I arrived in the city and you met me at the station,

          smiling in a way

               that made me frightened. Down the alley, around the arcade,

          up the stairs of the building

to the little room with the broken faucets, your drawings, all your things,

        I looked out the window and said

This doesn't look that much different from home,

            because it didn't,

but then I noticed the black sky and all those lights.

                                    We walked through the house to the elevated train.

            All these buildings, all that glass and the shiny beautiful

                                mechanical wind.

We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too,

            smiling and crying in a way that made me

even more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I

                           just couldn't say it out loud.

Actually, you said Love, for you,

                              is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's

   terrifying. No one

                       will ever want to sleep with you.

Okay, if you're so great, you do it—

                  here's the pencil, make it work . . .

If the window is on your right, you are in your own bed. If the window

            is over your heart, and it is painted shut, then we are breathing

river water.

            Build me a city and call it Jerusalem. Build me another and call it

              Jerusalem.

                  We have come back from Jerusalem where we found not

what we sought, so do it over, give me another version,

             a different room, another hallway, the kitchen painted over

and over,

             another bowl of soup.

The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell.

             Unfortunately, we don't have that kind of time.

                                    Forget the dragon,

leave the gun on the table, this has nothing to do with happiness.

    Let's jump ahead to the moment of epiphany,

             in gold light, as the camera pans to where

the action is,

             lakeside and backlit, and it all falls into frame, close enough to see

the blue rings of my eyes as I say

                                      something ugly.

I never liked that ending either. More love streaming out the wrong way,

             and I don't want to be the kind that says the wrong way.

But it doesn't work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats.

     There were some nice parts, sure,

all lemondrop and mellonball, laughing in silk pajamas

             and the grains of sugar

                         on the toast, love love or whatever, take a number. I'm sorry

                                 it's such a lousy story.

Dear Forgiveness, you know that recently

                     we have had our difficulties and there are many things

I want to ask you.

I tried that one time, high school, second lunch, and then again,

             years later, in the chlorinated pool.

                               I am still talking to you about help. I still do not have

             these luxuries.

I have told you where I'm coming from, so put it together.

We clutch our bellies and roll on the floor . . .

             When I say this, it should mean laughter,

not poison.

                  I want more applesauce. I want more seats reserved for heroes.

Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.

   Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

2009-07-06T13:39:00.001+08:00

We were talking about Michael Jackson

It’s so tragic, I said.

I know, he said, I can't shake it.

Pause..

He continued, All of us who feel this way, you know what it is.

I glanced at him

It's guilt. We made fun of a tortured and ill person until he died. And then we honoured him.

2009-07-02T23:10:00.001+08:00

i am supposed to type
like as if i know what im talking abt
but i dont
i am as blind as a bat
and a bat can at least fly in the dark

but i cant even walk
in a straight line
or do anything i am told to do
without smacking forehead first
into the rearview mirror

and that was before my elbow
bruised itself
against the dashboard
and i cry out because
my embarrassment was redder
and was as more scarlet
than the broken veins
throbbing under my skin

ouch.

31

2009-07-01T17:44:00.001+08:00

Anna Sui does Gossip Girl inspired line for Target! :) overall very cute and classy.

these are my faves. i think they are so cute. very Blair dont you think? cant wait for the show to get back on air.

check out the rest of the collection here

30

2009-06-28T18:13:00.002+08:00

OOOOH. i love this blog so much, guys. purely based in Singapore(but encouraging people from all over to do the same), this site features inspiring/adorable post-it notes that are stuck here and there at random corners and street objects. we should start one, no, i should start one here. it’ll be fun.

my favourite :

(kinokuniya, singapore)

(the tiffany and co store at beach port, singapore)

(china street, singapore)

GO CHECK THE BLOG OUT IF YOURE FREE AND JOIN THEIR FBOOK GROUP. LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE THIS TOO AND WOULD WANT TO HELP ME EXPAND THIS IDEA IN KUCHING. LEAVE ME A TAG OR MSG ON FBOOK. IT’LL BE TRES FUN! THAT’S ALL. THANK YOU!

FIN.
writer / CC BY-NC-ND 3.0

29

2009-06-26T23:17:00.001+08:00

<---- Charmaine during exams.

2009-06-19T22:17:00.001+08:00

You know it’s a good day when you pass your science papers;

28

2009-06-17T21:12:00.001+08:00

hi hello.

so i am back, updating, hoping not to let this space die. and also finally completed my chem/phys/bio(in a row) test today. feeling stoked, i dont know why. feeling like i need to update. also gonna do some add maths after this, but first thing’s first. let me put headers :D

Book reviews!

I finished Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. read this only if you have the time to enjoy and indulge in his fabulous, seemingly never-ending sentences. he’s very verbose, describing in a fanciful and fantastical ways and he really knows how to make his readers smile. a really great book.

Also devoured Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami within 24 hours. Murakami fans should already the familiar with the way he weaves his tales. after closing the last page, i was still reeling from the abrupt ending. disturbed and is still disturbing me. awesome work of fiction. MUST GO READ. this includes YOU, Sherman. Moving on to Wind-up Bird Chronicle soon :D

Lust!

I am in love with Hermes Birkin bags! Kelly Rutherford (Lily Bass-soon-to-be-Humphrey-yay!) has the bags in so many different/delicious shades. there is just something so classy and eloquent abt it, you know? Mrs. Beckham loves them too, since she was one of the lucky ones to be chosen by the designer house themselves to design a new line of Birkins. i ordered a handbag from F21 online not too long ago and when it arrived, it bared quite alot of resemblance to Birkins, but not quite the same look of simplicity and elegance. gah! i would love to have/steal one.

True Blood season two is also out :) my advise is to watch it with the lights switched off and a pillow ready at hand. still loving vampires. mhmm and L4D!

Will show off my new (Ted Baker) glasses next posts.

FIN.

2009-06-11T23:37:00.001+08:00

i want the book Crush by Richard Siken.

please someone get it for me.

it’s the only thing that makes sense right now.

27

2009-06-11T20:30:00.001+08:00

SO the latest on my life:

planned a surprise party for a monkey, in Lisa’s place, which included a lot of failed jumpshots and mcd+++(including the missing mcflurry)/

played Guitar Hero a hell lot-tried to beat Sarah but failed terribly cause she practised Coldplay’s Shiver so many times it practically embedded the entire button colours into her head and mine/

then ~~addicted~~ got myself inevitably hooked on Left4Dead (badass shiat i tell you. can play it day night day night and in between studying. and L4D 2 is coming out next month. omfgossipgirl.)/

went to monkey’s bbq and watched her turn sexy sixteenth. complete with the unforgettable game of pew/poink/zonk where losing means drinking our suspiciously frothy self-concocted “vanilla coke” or tobasco infested kueytiaw on keropok. had never tried tobasco in my life and i swear to never touch it again. lips swelled, ran arnd while pressing ice to my lips and tried shouting vulgarities to my laughing friends and they watched(but it didnt work). then more Guitar Hero and L4D. but i couldnt find my laptop’s mouse! so had to play on the laptop’s cursor pad. damn hard and pretty damn sad./

invited my debators over for American Pie marathon(von wanted it). couldnt find the 3rd dvd lol epic phail. so we played the new Game of Life with Amazing Lifepod(complicated much) then a few rounds of Bullshit. YiYong cant lie for her life. her voice goes up on octave then after i informed her, she tried to sound like Elvis but FAILED. hehe./

got my new video card woohoo. Sherman gave me the wtf! look the entire day but he was pretty impressed by the more realistic graphics when he played L4D after it was installed. more reasons to be scared now when attacking an onslaught of zombies, he says. more L4D L4D L4D that it hurts my eyes/

anticipating True Blood season 2. premiering this Monday y’all! slurp!/

-

-

-

and the monthly feeling, of “not good enough”.

26

2009-06-07T21:35:00.001+08:00

We're not the same, dear, as we used to be
The seasons have changed and so have we
There was little we could say and even less that we could do
To stop the ice from getting thinner under me and you
We buried our love in the wintery grave
A lump in the snow was all that remained
But we stayed by its side, as the days turned to weeks
And the ice kept getting thinner with every word that we'd speak
When the spring arrived, we were taken by surprise
When the flows under our feet bled into the sea
And nothing was left for you and me
We're not the same dear and it seems to me
There's nowhere we can go with nothing underneath
Then it saddens me to say what we both knew was true
That the ice was getting thinner under me and you

2009-06-04T21:42:00.001+08:00

quick update.

just finished watching one of the best horror movie. it’s not cheesy or senseless and it’s good good good.

written by Stephen King. heard that it was awesome so i caught it on astro and wow, wow wow. gave me chills all over.

it has one of the most nihilistic endings i had ever seen in my life.

will now be one of my all-time favourites :D

2009-05-28T14:26:00.001+08:00

im sorry, Kimmy..

but the win goes to Melissa. :D

HOORAH!

2009-05-28T08:33:00.001+08:00

“let's just imagine for a while that we will forget that we were ever addicted to anything, and that in your mother's hand is just water. that, yes, you've always loved chinese food. you've been holding chopsticks since you were a baby. and yes, that kid was an asshole, but i think i could have loved him. oh, and that star up there? it existed once, and among it was a universe that could have been ours, if we reached up high enough. but let's not stop to regret, because there's a ladder in the shed back there, and that star in the corner there could be big enough to fit just you and i.”

Samuel, i know you like this, despite the fact that your tolerance level have hit ground zero and you keep biting back at ZChong’s idealistic, sweet nothings and Jonas Bros’ song references, you are, still, a softhearted geek. now, finish your essay!

25

2009-05-26T10:07:00.001+08:00

hi hello

these are pictures entitled “Lately”

So, lately i’ve been celebrating birthdays with friends, slipping and sliding in mud(football), going to tuition after tuition, organizing and re-organizing, finishing a really sad book and anticipating a more hypnotic/morbid one, scoffing at my history book and sleeping soundly on my bio.

thinking abt big, big, important things and eating

eggs for breakfast. everyday.

24 (this post needs no words O.O)

2009-05-22T23:35:00.001+08:00

2009-05-20T21:04:00.001+08:00

read this only if you have the time and the patience to understand what she’s trying to say. this is only one of the many beautiful parts of the poem. it was mind-blowing.

that world that had bled me,
                    jailed me,
                    starved me,
                    laughed at me,
                    rejected me,
was one I could feel
at last
I could feel
getting at me,
as you might feel the hot smokey air from
a burning room creeping under the door crack
in the room where you've been defending yourself.
It was not until I met you
that the door broke down
         --or I opened it--
and my innocence was consumed,
burned away.

Diane Wakoski - Love Passes Beyond the Incredible Hawk of Innocence

23[how coincidental. this happens to be a significant number in Tree Hill]

2009-05-20T18:23:00.001+08:00

*gestures at new header*

I’ve just finished watching the season finale of OTH season 6. nostalgia was reverberating through my head. NOBODY DIED, THANK GAWD. and baby Sawyer is the most beautiful baby since Suri Cruise. we bid farewell to Leyton, as they drove off, into the distance and towards the setting sun. we watched Nathan live the dream of his life.

ive been watching this show since i was like…ten or evelen and i love OTH, i admitt, more than GGirl or any other show. because there’s one thing Tree Hill has that off-balances other existing shows.

and that’s heart.

22

2009-05-15T23:39:00.001+08:00

Listening to Cant Help Falling In Love With You by Ingrid Michaelson.

So touching.

a beautiful wedding of my favourite couple ever ended on the most saddest note.

One Tree Hill always does this to me. Anyway, spoiler alert: Chad Michael Murray and Hilarie Burton will not be returning as Lucas and Peyton in season seven. It’s shocking and it’s still hard for me to digest.

I think when Leyton disappears, so will my drive to watch the show.

I love them too much :(

21

2009-05-13T23:22:00.001+08:00

So we dissected mice today. I being the almost/i think good surgeon, severed the mouse’s head and proceeded to cut into its skull. i liked that part somehow. but the most brilliant part of it all was the slow, staccato beats of the still living heart(this was earlier into the procedure). it made me realize that tiny, minuscule beings have all the inner workings similar to humans, only an extremely down-sized model but with the same complexities of human body systems. it struck me how easy it was for us to cut off tissue by tissue and disentangle the spleen and intestine without knowing how we’re just taking apart an entire body structure, a work of science and wonder, however small. okay, the feeling of being the person to behead the mouse; i must say, i felt the churning and the acute kick in the gut, the moment i picked up the forceps and secured a good grip around the limp neck of the dead animal. i tried to empty out my mind/emotion/attachment. i guess i did succeed, cause the moment i cracked the last bone attaching the skull to the backbone free, i felt nothing. practically nothing. it was interesting how i and Sarah kind of created this void inside our minds, an empty space for where all the pity/guilt/disgust we were abt to feel, seem to fall into.

I watched, partly, Sam cutting open the skin of the belly. he did it with such precision—so very like a top-knotch surgeon. he was so expressionless, emotionally detached, “just there to finish the job”. it was very impressive, very familiar, very Samuel.

Auditions went a bit awry. just to sum it up since i dont really feel like trying to find the the exact words to describe the experience/eventual outcome : “Wait for tomorrow." i’m a bit unsure. i feel neither here nor there, which i really hate. it's like, leaving you somewhere between being happy and relief or just being plain disappointed. it’s like being left in the dark.

busy week so far. and will be more busy for the weeks to come. excited? maybe. but i need sleep. i feel like sleep is hanging on this large and tall pole and with everyday building up more walls and doors (just when you thought you’ve completely obliterated the one before), my sleep is steadily slipping, bit by bit, until one day, i am afraid, i may just knock off unconscious and delve into sweet, deep oblivion for days. hahah. that actually sounds good.

okay, signing off. oh btw,if there is anyone who is interested to watch Monster Vs. Alien and help the Interact Club raise funds for charity, then im glad to announce that i am helping to sell10 tickets. all are RM20, seating is free(only within the RM20 sections, of course) and the movie will be in 3D. the special 3D glasses will be provided. it’s on the Friday night, 22nd May, so let me know before Wednesday next week

leave me a msg on msn/sms me/facebook me/tag on my cbox/walk up to me in school to let me know, alright?

FIN.

2009-05-08T23:53:00.001+08:00

Don’t think I’ll confess.
Why would I confess that I...
Don’t think I’ll deny.
(Don't think i'll deny)
Why would I deny that I...
Don’t be so hard on yourself,
You won’t get better till you’re worse.
Yeah, you send a little smile my way.
And don’t be so hard on yourself.
You won’t get better till you’re worse.
Yeah, you send a little love my way.
Every second I spend waiting,
Drags me closer to this grave.
I’m not alone.
No, I’m just on my own.
And I...
It's a little cold outside.
Ooh, Ooh.

I am so lazy to type long sentences. i am uninspired and i dont know what to write. i wish i could write abt human trafficking and the big bang theory but i have to read up on them. which i am planning to soon+/-

FIN.

20

2009-05-07T21:36:00.001+08:00

ditto.

19

2009-05-06T18:37:00.001+08:00

So, Zhi Chong was in a extremely good mood today. He even let me camwhore with his brilliant/beautiful/lovely Canon IXUS. And at the end of the day, he told me i could bring it home(gasp) only if i brought it back the next day. (i am a bit tempted not to) but i know in the end, give/take, i will bring it back to him. HEHE.

The digital macro setting is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. it catches little details and magnifies every stitch and cross. Canon IXUS is a pretty darn good camera although it’s not DSLR.

Anyways, below are some of my favourite things bought from my weekend in Singapore.

Erica loves these sandals. And i am head over heels for them too. Don't you think they’re gorgeous? The lovely/unique shade of blue of the faux snake skin designs and the simplicity of the straps? The dirty bronze adds a very very nice touch too. (DROOLS)

So….i bought some sketching pencils/pens/very very very worth it paper. i told myself before going to Spore that i needed to stop doodling randomly on people’s books. finally, supplies to feed my itchy hands! the arts and craft store in Takashimaya is a frigging warehouse. It was one hour of bliss.

New books! i spent approximately 2.5 hours in Kinokuniya and basically skimmed every shelf. including the Jap Anime sections, Literature A-Z, Self-Help in Business/Psychology/Cooking, Poems and Mockumentaries. Books that i bought, in no particular order, are up there. :)

I AM SO EXCITED TO READ EXTREMELY CLOSE AND INCREDIBLY LOUD! Jonathan Safran Foer writes with such intensity. And i am always quoting from him cause, his paragraphs are written like prose and his words practically illuminate off the pages.

Okay. So pics from school. Cause i love the digital macro setting on the Canon. :) Enjoy

Rehearsal tomorrow so gotta miss first lesson of football. Excited!

FIN.

2009-05-05T21:06:00.001+08:00

i have alot of pics to post up

O.O

but am so lazy. went to singapore this weekend. ate alot, spent a considerable amount, then faced school and the many demands that follow. rehearsal today saw me branding my forehead with a new bruise and trying to walk like the tin-man.

lent Yvonne my jacket. cause i love her so and gave the Best Friends my hugs.

pictures will come later. up there is the apple cider i ordered at some german restaurant in singapore.

:)

18

2009-04-29T18:53:00.001+08:00

Jes and Von in my house tonight, woohoo! Almost like old times.

Schedule for May/June

Movie(Angels and Demons) night for charity 15th May; Bringing whole Debate EXCO members and friends

New duties! (you’re looking at the new class monitor :D :D )

Selling movie tickets for premiere of Monsters vs. Aliens for the Interact Club(and therefore going to watch that too)

Taking part in Evening with the Stars (A sketch called “Form 4’s Got Talent”)

Camp Pueh Leadership Camp; 8-10 June

Possible trip to Langkawi????????

Propose a good script for our production of “History of Lodge”

:)

17

2009-04-27T17:01:00.001+08:00

This post is dedicated to Jesmond Siew

(cause he said i never post any pictures of him)

Happy? :) :)

16

2009-04-23T17:33:00.001+08:00

thank you to Samuel, Maggie, Zong Bao, Sherman, Linda, Yvonne, Jesmond, Mervin, Jocelyn, Yi Yong and Atikah for holding on with me for two full weeks. for slaving away every night in my house and enduring the burden of having the school’s reputation on our heads.

thank you for being there and becoming the people i now know as my Debate Family.

my dears, i am so proud of you all and as sad i am to know that we did not manage to bring back the trophy again, or go as far as we aimed to, i wouldnt trade these two weeks for anything.

thank you for showing me that sometimes people are as dumb as Toosies, unfair like Hutus but despite it all, chemistry and dynamics are all it takes to make a great team.

i love you guys.

15

2009-04-17T18:42:00.001+08:00

Damnnnnn…i’m good. Featuring Yvonne. :)

14

2009-04-11T19:18:00.001+08:00

I know about the more in morphine, what it's like to wake and feel like a chalk outline of yourself. I know about days passing so quickly that they don't even wave, let alone stop and say hello. I know it’s been one of those months, one of those lifetimes, when you dream of a laundromat, a place to unscrew your skull and toss your dirty thoughts into a machine, come back an hour later, your impulses all folded and clean. If I could, I'd have a scientist shrink me down and inject me into your bloodstream, and I'd go with a wash brush and suds bucket, scrub the opium out each one of your cells. I used to think I was tough because I could hold a machine gun of whisky to my cranium and take bullet after bullet to the brain. I used to think the greatest display of strength was lifting a hunk of metal in the air, but now I know it's far more difficult to put something down.

2009-04-04T20:52:00.001+08:00

"If you do not breathe through writing,
if you do not cry out in writing,
or sing in writing,
then don't write,
because our culture has no use for it."
-anais nin

13

2009-04-03T14:56:00.001+08:00

Just a quick post with a picture of my future darling.

Cannot cannot cannot wait to key in that credit card number :)

12

2009-04-02T19:01:00.001+08:00

As i have promised, this is the only excerpt from Tablo’s book that i could find on the internet. And it is so so so so good. The prose, the simplicity of his description.. the attention he pays to the little details. It was delightful (oh no, i sound like some old granny aunty now).

Fine, fine. It rocked my socks off. It made me wonder if i could ever write anything as poignant as that. Cause, sadly and inevitably, there are some works in this world that are not worth reading at all or just stink of bias-ness (and im not naming names *cough* : the one abt the malaysian astronaut*cough*)

And that it was a waste of trees and colouring– and the electrity needed to print the pages out then bind/seal/package it, not to mention the human labour required to ensure its quality and what.not.(shit) –but this piece of writing slash art that i so abruptly fell in love with is something so extraordinary and although it has seemingly “ordinary” words, the letters and storyline practically stands up, shouts at you, would probably snap your gaze to it if it could to tell you that every part of it, every space between it’s words and flow of it’s rhythm is something worth more than you could ever think.

I present to you, Tablo, who if, by a stroke of bad, unjustifiable luck, happen to ever hate me(like he would ever acquaint himself with a freelance writer like myself), would probably send me the most brilliant “I Hate You” note ever written.

…………………………………..

"the walls of our world" (spring 2001)

A conversation with Sandra is like swimming in a Pollock painting: words, expressions and hands flutter and mix, raw and brilliant. She makes speech purely physical. I lose the meaning of her sentences and throw myself into the storm of her lips.
But I remind myself, I have a job to do.
"Tell me about last Saturday," I say. "Tell me."
Her eyes widen in excitement as if she has anticipated this very question, this chance to expose herself. Like a budding actress speaking her debut lines, she wets her lips with her tongue and draws in a long breath that threatens to inhale the whole room.
"I danced and danced, toes and heels pecking the earth like birds feeding," she answers.
Sandra always speaks like this: poetry at the speed of a subway train.
"Where was this?" I ask, watching nothing but her lips.
"In the rain. I danced between the strips of rain."
"This was Saturday?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure, Sandra? It didn't rain on Saturday."
"It didn't rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass."
"That sounds very painful."
"No, it sounds beautiful."
Everything she says is beautiful. Her lips are a fountain with words brimming; I, with my hands cupped, wait for them to overflow.
I glance over at the white booklet laid neatly on the top right-hand corner of my desk. A handbook for psychiatrists and their patients: Therapy does not involve sex. Warning signs. But when Sandra speaks, I forget about the roles we are paid to play.
"Rescue me," I say.
"What?"
Let's dance together, speak together, compose sentences that will bridge the space between my chair and your couch, between my sterile white dress shirt and your unbuttoned blouse.
"Nothing," I hurriedly say.
"You can have me," she says.
"What?"
"You can have me and take me wherever you want."
Her words make the marble pillars fall; office walls cave in; phone numbers disappear from the rolodex; and appointment cards burn to cinder, leaving nothing but Sandra and I, hand in hand, waiting to rescue each other. But it's too late for either of us to be saved.

2009-04-01T17:44:00.001+08:00

i stared at the paper in disbelief.

and everything started to hurt.

sigh.

11

2009-03-31T18:08:00.001+08:00

I would for you.

Exams this thursday! but i feel a bit blockheaded. i want to start reading Underground by Haruki Murakami. i read somewhere that it’s a harder novel to digest compared to Kafka on the Shore. oh no.

cant wait to order my iPod shuffle on the Wednesday before the last day of exams :)

but but but before that, because according to the law of nature and the law of life, things have to wait until after we all pay our dues. and this due spells out E-X-A-M.

2009-03-29T21:25:00.001+08:00

my eyes kinda hurt. they’re kinda tired, like they’re punishing me for being too curious today. and you know what they say abt the curious cats(octopussy??) right?

i would like everyone to know that i am NOT dyke. i am no where near. im straight, so impeccably straight that you could measure my sexuality with a ruler and see that it is a perfectly aligned parallel line to the edge.

hello. i think i might be having lightning in my brain again.

10

2009-03-28T18:32:00.001+08:00

If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

09

2009-03-25T22:49:00.001+08:00

Who loves me?

Who would walk through rain of glass shards or blades of wild grass for me? Who would lie with me as i watch the stars against the canvas of black and count my breath as i close my eyes to the night? Who would lace their fingers across my arm, to envelope the bruise as if it would go away? And who would fall asleep with my dream in his/her heads?

Whoever you are, could you please please please please get me that book up there? :) i know this is a pretty lame way to ask for it but i have just read an excerpt from the book and i am completely enthralled. you cannot imagine how happy it would make me just to open it up and have a small and bite-size taste of such a marvelous work of art. reading the excerpt was just like the smell of fresh flowers.

it made me place my hand over my chest because it felt like my heart was beating out of my chest.

2009-03-25T21:02:00.001+08:00

i ♡ shaky bones and knowing

smiles

08

2009-03-23T22:09:00.001+08:00

days fall down like dominos when you finally peek ahead and look out at the mountain of tasks, expectations and life equations spread out, waiting(sinisterly) for you.

we’re all just trying to buy time. at least, i am. sigh back to studying mode.

2009-03-22T18:58:00.001+08:00

Today made me smile….

07

2009-03-21T22:32:00.001+08:00

i wish i was that ~~beautiful~~ skinny

so that i can do this next time with the love of my life

♥

i was very curious today so i went on livejournal and searched a group that collected vintage ads. all of them were so lovely and some so amusing that i just had to save them. some of them i love subtlely/inevitably (like below) thanks to nostalgia/significance.

some i love randomly because they told their own story. like this come hither one underneath. i thought it was rather quaint and seductive. and i love that fact that the word “scarlet” is in there. like it’s so sacred and if you were to blow on it, dust will come spiraling down and you’ll uncover a book (a bible, if you want to play it that way) of all lost things, that ought to be loved and cherished but were left forgotten in a tiny corner cupboard, waiting and yellowing and dog-ear-ing all on its own.

you can probably tell im in an inquisitive mood.

anyway, pictures from my birthday. my weird/wonderful birthday.

sixteen is semi-lousy since i have to cram my head with history notes. am so tired/restless/mischievous

FIN.

2009-03-21T17:03:00.001+08:00

i am exhausted

06

2009-03-19T20:40:00.001+08:00

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

05

2009-03-19T17:27:00.001+08:00

I want to experience spring, in NYC.

04

2009-03-17T17:09:00.001+08:00

wow wow wow

so i’ve been dutifully planning my 16th birthday party, while sleeping along with the rumble and tumble of rainy wet afternoons, reading/memorizing bio chapters and sidenotes and answering/making calls and msging important people.

i’ve been doodling pictures of big-eyed whales and playful lion cubs(only their backs, cause i haven’t learnt to sketch the contours of their faces) and devising a plan to help Erica. :)

i cant believe i’m going to be sixteen soon. i’ll be driving next year. i guess Alice in Wonderland kinda has to stop frolicking at her tea parties and drive her little Yugo back to reality now.

i’m glad that the people who will help jumpstart the journey are those with enough ammo to keep me grounded to the battle field.

FIN.

P.S. Rica, there weren’t any thunder or stuff(like i told you on the phone). it was my dad downstairs…watching Rush Hour 3 with our movie theatre speakers on at max. (???)

03

2009-03-17T16:54:00.001+08:00

02

2009-03-16T23:39:00.001+08:00

01

2009-03-16T20:48:00.001+08:00

2009-03-16T19:45:00.001+08:00

back. with pictures and no tongue