zaaaaaaaara, where are you?

Right. What I'm going to be blogging about is not going to be very interesting to the general masses but for art people..well, yeah.

I've noticed this growing resentment towards Art Friend from schoolmates and teachers in ADM and apart from acknowledging that the collective disdain is somewhat peer-influenced, I'm still going: whut?

Resentment issues:
a) Monopolizing the art supplies market in Singapore - TRUE
b) Bad customer service - ARGUABLE.

The common gripe with (b) is that the service in Art Friend is inefficient, to the point that it seems intentionally lazy compared to the close attention paid to the customer in a smaller art store like Straits Commercial. Now I'm usually all for rooting for the underdog, but in all the mass support for the seemingly under-appreciated smaller store and critique against the bullying of the corporate monolith...have you guys even considered the reason why the service in Art Friend may be lacking? When I hear the complaints about the latter's employees, it always sounds so damn personal!-- such an idiot, so arrogant ladadada.

I think the issue is that the employees were never given adequate training and that's not quite their personal fault, and its not fair to fully blame their supposed lack of initiative. What it is, is a glaring oversight made by the management and hey, maybe the reason why it's never been remedied is because the customers (that's us) have never complained enough, or with enough detail.

Because I know what it's like to be thrown into a job without having been taught the relevant skills and common know-how. At my internship they were requesting and assuming I knew how to pdf things to the specific technical requirements - and I never even knew such specifications EXISTED. The first time they told me to call the courier I was all - right, courier..we have one?

I would choose to believe that the harried and unhelpful looks/efforts from Art Friend employees is not due to laziness or arrogance. They're just blur sotong AND TRYING TO COPE WITH THEIR JOB. Trust me, I recognize this expression - it's been on my face far too often.

So one time, I couldn't find the conte crayons and asked for assistance. He looked at me curiously. So I said, "They're kinda orange-y..waxy crayons." He thought for a moment, pointed to a bunch of orange-y pencials, paused a moment and then, handed me a box of children's wax crayons. They don't know! That's okay! They (sometimes) really do try! So when I eventually found them by myself, I went up to they guy and told him:

"These are conte crayons."

"Orh," he said nodding, "ok thanks ah."

See, you help them learn.

And in another incident, I was with Zara at Art Friend and there was this boy with um, his chauffeur (don't ask how we managed to infer their relation) and the boy was getting supplies for a school project requiring the construction of a box out of styrofoam boards. They asked an employee - what kind of glue can we use to glue the boards. And so helpfully, with good intentions, the employee pointed out to them that amazing, all-purpose glue!-- UHU superglue.

Unfortunately!

From personal experience, I know for a fact that UHU glue melts styrofoam.

But you can't expect random people to know these random facts! So we interrupted their consultation, shared this nifty bit of info as well as introducing them to that nifty little invention - THE GLUE GUN. So all in all, Zara and I saved the world.

Honestly, you can't expect random employees with no art background to know the nitty gritty details of art supplies and their characteristics, there's just too much! As art students ourselves, we already get so boggled by the assortment of art junk, brand names and quirks.

Give 'em a break, that's all I'm saying.

I was scanning in some old pictures for a certain errand, and decided: heck, since I've got them in my laptop now, might as well share it with y'all!

It is more bearable than adolescent camwhoring, at least.


The alarmed expression is probably a reaction to my mother having sprung a hairbrush on me. Never liked it, she was always quite rough with it..tough love, eh? Would also explain why neat hair was a Rare Occurence later on in childhood.


Naturally.




Car seat! I don't remember this one. I used to pretend I was driving with the clasp of my Older Kid car seat though.


With cousin. I like the fact that we still come to this void deck every other week to visit my grandmother. Eh, I love my shoes! And my top! Are those bird prints? Man I would totally still wear that now. Wah lau, sartorial retrospective self-epiphany.

And then, suddenly! I wrote this strange thing. Its got an erratic rhythm to it, which you know, isn't exactly without a point!..if anyone can be bothered to prac. crit a poem written by a silly teenager (answer: no).

Out of curiosity, do let me know what you think it means. It makes perfect sense to me, but of course, that's because I wrote it and therefore, have my own decoding ring consisting of a personal stock of subtext and allusions.


The Whale to Survive

I am able to detach
myself at will.

The distance between is a whale:
inexplicably, irretrievebly stolid.
I lean against this massive bulk that
blocks the immediacy!-- of perception!-- of reaction!
I lean against this massive bulk
and rest.

And so it is with some regret
that I note the uneasiness -
that! Does not fade, but grows.

I am a mammal out of water.

Gravity enveloping air,
Air enveloping - I am
lit by a consciousness.

I am heavy.
I am only, still.

I allow wind to rub grit
into rubber skin,
and do not move.
A micron of a tail twitches.
It is all that strains in me.

I long for the overwhelming,
the immediate! -- motion
of the sea.

Sometimes I surprise even myself.

Was flipping through a (recent) notebook of mine when I came across this:

ANTI-GRAVITATIONAL DEVICE.

WHY, I DO NOT KNOW.


On another note, with the sudden onslaught of university admission flurry of matriculation number-finding-and-registering, tution grants (you mean it no automatic? government give me no money?), MISSED DEADLINES, medical check-ups, choosing orientation camps, probably missing orientation camps and therefore, ergo, eventually, having no friends...I am very, very terrified.

Which is weird, because usually I am quite gung-ho about moving to new territory. But I think maybe in this period of flitting from job to job, I am quite tired of the whole New Kid routine. You know, the whole sussing people out, uneasy exchange of humour.

I wish someone would just talk to me, the way we used to in school. I miss it, and I think in a rather unpleasantly needy way, I well, need it.

Easy conversation.

On another, another note! Look what came in the mail. Right, this was from the Admission Handbook for Freshmen that NTU sent me in the mail. With regards to the schedule of our medical check-up:

"Ladies, if your medical examination date falls on your inconvenient day of the month, please feel free to come at another date."

I kid you not.

Ladies? Inconvenient day of the month? Dude, how archaic - say it Mr. Writer sir, say it: FEMALE STUDENTS. MENSTRUATION. PERIOD.

If we're lucky, maybe they might even be showing us this video in the waiting room!



NURSE, GET THE IODINE AND MONKEY WRENCH. STAT!



(I hope you watched the video! Because it is funny! Credit to Hazri who showed it to me a long time ago! Credit also to that single neurone of mine that bothered to retain trivial bit of youtube content!)

Bintan was amazing.

Which is quite funny, considering that it really was just the typical, semi-luxe beach holiday that I've been to so many times. Think the crucial difference is that it was no family, all-friends time. Yeah!

All was typical except that:
- We saw double rainbows!
- And a meteorite! In the day! Seriously. It was a bright burning ball with a tail moving really slowly in the sky. I say meteorite, or INVADING ALIENS.
- And a huge rhino beetle that was saved!

And I loved floating around the pool platform, singing Backstreet Boys and consequently annoying tash who will never, ever, understand the cheesy love for boybands that we kids who grew up in the 90s hold near and dear.

And I loved the stars that we saw at the kelong on our second night. It looked like an atrium! So huge and amazing and augh.

And then there was this partaaaaaay at the hotel club which I didn't go for, but the banner was DAMN FUNNY. It said: Xperience the scandal of the land. HAHA

And sangeetha was flirted with by the bellboy! Who gave him her nummber, hmm Rikda?

And bumpy, buggy rides from the concierge that seemed faster and more dangerous than they really were but sent us into giggle fits anyway.

I loved talking with Zara and Tash in the early morning, and seeing them wake up. You know, naturally, while still in bed. Instead of well, in lecture theaters all messed up and stressed.

And I loved waking up in the early mornings - very bright in Bintan - and seeing Syahrul (even if its his arm pit, ack!) beside me with all the white bedsheets and blankets aglow in the morning light.

I loved trooping down at 5.30AM (i kid you not) to the beach to see the sun rise. And more excitingly, see scurrying hermit crabs that are actually pretty! And a school of fish jumping out of the sea like dolphins.

And I loved floating around the sea and have tiny schools of fish swim around you! Instead of like, a random plastic bag like at East Coast. Sometimes there were big striped fish too!

And huge buffet breakfasts! And being able to see the faces of my friends light up, because we're having such a simple, great time.

And playing with cute, non-bratty white kids named India and Oscar! Who speak french!



I am/was so, so, very happy.

Hot damn.



When I saw this dress, the fingers that belonged to the arm that I had plopped on the desk actually stretched out towards the computer screen, wanting.

Want this dress.

Even more so when the original blogger posted it, saying: Zooey Deschanel may be the only person who can pull off Erin Fetherston's petal dress.

No, me too. Me.

Want this dress, so bad.

GIVE ME.

So I'm really horrible with video games right, or for that matter, practically anything that demands decent display of co-ordinated motor skills.

The only game I was decent at was this Marvel fighting thing, but that must be because the game was configured such that aimless button-pushing, if done rapidly enough, can still save your butt somehow.

They need to market games like these for people like me.

For others of superior skillz though, there are games like Spiderman 3, which was what I attempted today.

The game was already loaded into Syahrul's PS2 so while he went off to the kitchen, I decided to tinker a little with it. It seemed to me that the whole point of the game was navigation, because geez! That was all I seemed to be doing.

I couldn't find any baddies to beat up into a messy, pixelated pulp.

Then I realized! Ah, that little grey circle with the tiny arrow! With increasing/decreasing numbers indicating my proximity to Bad, Needs-To-Be-Beaten-Up Person! How nifty.

C'MON I AM READY FOR SOME VIOLENCE, I said to myself. Now we all know that the superhero in question can swing from (concrete) tree to tree - puzzlingly enough, not quite like the animal that he is named after. Did no one consider this? Spiders don't swing?

#Edit: Wait, yes spiders do swing to make their webs. D'oh! But you know, the way Spiderman swings...I've always considered it more ape-like, no?

Hence and therefore, logically, swinging around from the buildings makes for much better transport speed but of course, I could not control le swinging. I'd do the special combo button thingy, and SWING SO WOAH AND THIS IS SO COOL then realize, shit, I'm still in the same spot. Or, I'd jump+crawl+swing and you'd think I'd make it to the roof top but no, of course not. I'd land on the concrete pavement, so gracefully that I'd leave a crater 2 meters wide.

The town council is not Spiderman's best friend, I suppose.

Then! Then, I found a really efficient way to navigate. I thought it was sheer genius.

And then the Boy, who's been watching me struggle for quite some time, he says: "Sayang. Spiderman doesn't walk."

Wherence the controller was thrown back at him with a swing that Spidey would have been proud of.

SAY HELLO TO MY NEW SHOES.



My sister says that they are evidence of the remaining traces of my Spice Girls fanhood.

I shamelessly, vehemently concur.

They are a little bit trickier to match than I thought though, since I need to be wary of crossing the thin, thin line between snazzy-kitsch and tacky. We shall see, we shall see!

Its like someone (who? You? Figment of my shoe-addled mind?) told me..so what if the shoe is ridiculous and you won't really wear it. The point is that you POSSESS it, and you can tell all you children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren (because surely being a shoe whore runs in the genes) what amazing shoes you once had.

On a more introspective note, working with Jenn on a prose piece she wrote has re-affimed a notion I've always had in my head. To quote Ms. Champion: "I only write in heartache. Never in love."

I've been trying to disregard (read: not think about it) the fact that the reason why I have not been writing anything - anything personal - is because I am happy. I love, and I'm in love..which means I feel so thoroughly grounded, with no frayed emotional threads at all that I feel settled. Content.

You'd think that would be a good thing.

Well, I was never that fantastic a writer anyway so perhaps, all is as it should be. Mmhmm, yeah keep telling yourself that.

I AM DEADSET EXCITED Y'ALL.




Even daily 7 hours of telemarketing won't get me down now that I have this in mind. Yell/snark at me all you want random receptionists, hokkien ah peks and hotshot finance managers. Oh the glee, the glee!

Will tell you guys when things are confirmed, of course.

One of the nice things about having a boyfriend is that you get to find out Things - Mysteries of Guy Behaviour. Sure, you could ask your average Platonic Male Friend but for all you know, they might still be holding something back. Hmm.

Between significant others though, there isn't any secrecy. Unless it concerns a disgusting habit, like that you eat your toenail clippings for example, and your neighbour's. You can keep that a secret. Apart from that however, SURRENDER ALL YOUR KNOWLEDGE TO ME NOW THAT WE ARE ONE SYMBIOTIC BEING!

Yes well anyway -

The other day, I got around to asking Syahrul the usual routine of Why are guys like that? What are they thinking of when so-and-so happens? Is it true that all guys think Fergie looks like a tranny? (answer: Affirmative)

"Supposing there is a guy who for some reason, has a LOT of female friends, more than he has guy friends, how do the rest of the Guy Clique feel about this?"

"Well, I think he should share."






HAHAHA

You, dear reader, have no idea how there are times when I desperately regret being a girl and wish I was born a boy instead.

Specifically, times when the parental folks kick up a fuss when I return home slightly late - which sounds like a rather juvenile issue, but in principle, is very infuriating.

I detest that by gender, I am considered inherently vulnerable, and therefore in need of protection or avoidance of suspiciously shady things. This would include venturing by oneself to ulu places, or sleepovers with Platonic Male Friends, taking cabs home late at night, and also waiting at a lonely bus stop late at night.

It also means that non-family traveling is nary a feasible sight - at least, with the parents I have. I absolutely cannot travel alone, as it seems I am as a being, too weak to fend for myself. I could travel with other girls, but what's a bunch of girls going to do with a man wielding a big, scary stick?

Well then, the option then seems to be that I need Strong Men to protect my virtue, as my parents would be wont to approve! Oh but wait - what if they are not trustworthy? What if they outrage my modesty? What if they infuse a ridiculous amount of sedatives into my beverage of choice and date-rape my limp and comatose form? What if I engage in wild, tantric, out-of-the-country, pre-marital sex? What if, what if, what if! Well fuck that.

This gender of mine is rather crippling, and I honestly think that with my personality, I would be much more suited having been born a boy.

Although I admit that at this rate, I probably cry too much to make a decently good boy either.

It also seems, I am destined to be attached under someone via a relationship for the whole of my life - this sounds alot more fun to you dirty minds out there (I know who you are!)- and I dislike this. I am constantly going to be my father's daughter, my mother's daughter..until I get married I suppose, wherein this title will supercede the former: Somebody's Wife.

I would like very much to be my own person, when the decisions I make no longer need approval from Higher Authorities. But I suppose as a fairly civil member of society, it is crucial that my actions appease others, and so this seems unlikely, on the whole.

Anyone care to disagree?

At least I have the decency to agree that yes, it is rather disgusting how I have not blogged in more than a month, even skipping over one of the most life-altering events that happened recently!

Sure everyone (who cares, and matters) knows already, but here it is anyway in case people living under a rock are curious enough to want to know:
Lit - A
Art - A (not sure how I pulled this one off really, considering I handed in incomplete coursework BUT HECK I AM GLAD)
Econs - C of which I am so incredibly, thoroughly happy with!!!
GP - B3, a bit bleh, but yeah I'm alright.

When I saw my results slip, the first thing I said was YEAH C FOR ECONS!! with hands all up in the air, and honestly, did not give that much of a shit about the double As. I suppose it is all relative.

So at this point of time, I am in the process of applying to anyone who'll take me. Haha, not really - do you think I'm that loose? Don't answer that. But really, C'MON PICK ME PICK ME, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

Which brings me to this!



It was really amazingly fun and hilarious to make, which makes me wonder why I never started sooner. Honestly, I LOVE IT.

#EDIT: Everybody's right, youtube has failed me. Yousendit PWNZ all. So here, if the youtube still ain't working by the time you get here!

This morning, after a night of some low-degree emotional dithering, I woke up (still somewhat sleepdazed) thinking:

I don't want to look for love, I want to look for great shoes.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

All hail the Internet and Google! For they have unearthed these!

Moschino. Lalalalaladybug!



Stella McCartney. Wedges are here to stay, which is as the Boy would say: FAWSOME.


I don't understand how Prada can make already cute shoes (ballet flats) even CUTER, but somehow, they have.


Tash, tash! This would match your dress!



Nice ones from Topshop. One thing I feel sad about the world is that Topshop likes to line their shoes with pigskin :(


I envy whoever it is who is wearing and more importantly, owning these shoes. I REALLY DO.

So WOW, who would have thought boiling eggs could be an adventure.

Apparently, my dear readers, dropping in eggs straight from the cold fridge into really boiling water results in this:








Kinda makes me feel better about not being able to flip a perfect sunny-side-up.

Welcome to the new layout. I suppose I got tired of the minimalist-chic spareness of this place and thus, have traded it for something unfortunately cookie-cutter, but at least, with colour.

I made potato salad today, which was received well.

Potatoes take FOREVER to boil, let me tell you! No wonder everybody eats that instant mashed potato powder crap instead. Although, once you can be bothered enough to boil, juggle and peel the hot potato, and finally mashing it with a terrible amount of butter, IT IS WORTH IT. So amazing, butter and potatoes.

I have come to the conclusion then, that I am much better cooking than baking. There is something that I find difficulty understanding, when it comes to baking. I cannot see the relation between flour, eggs and butter and how the varied portions can result in something that totally looks alien from its origins!

Cooking, on the other hand, I understand. It makes sense to me - and there's that bit of growing intuition that tempts me with the promise that given time and experience, I can be an awesome cook. My mum would call it the Ability to Agak-agak, which means: The Uncanny Ability to Estimate and Hitting the Spot Right On.

Nevertheless, my lack of Baking Intuition doesn't mean I don't try.

The other day, Charmaine came over to my place where we baked rather good chocolate chip cookies and Chai Spice Chocolate Cupcakes. Phwoar check out the massive alliteration!!

Here's the pictoral documentation. Blur pictures ahead, watch out!

Cookies


Spot the peanut-shaped cookie!

Cupcake batter

In their cupcake cups! Charmaine likes the cups, because they are cute. Like panties she says. I don't know her Officer, honest.

Check out our goodies! UH HUH, YEAH I SAID IT, YOU HEARD ME. God, I need to stop watching so much MTV.

Iced. This was the only one that ended up looking perfect. And only because we're showing you its better side. Such utter, complete failure. How am I to become Nigella Lawson at this rate, I ask you.

It seemed funny at the time okay! It was a straight FOUR HOURS of baking and we were tired, and cranky and in need of some juvenile hilarity. (Sadly, I think the confectionery have weightier assets than my own.) (Nigella also has massive boobies. Da-yum!)


And so, the FINAL PRODUCT: Chai Spice and Chocolate Cupcakes...
as well as this:

Have been thinking about portfolio concerns ever since I went to a talk that comprehensively, and impressively, introduced us A Level noobs to their Art, Design and Media programme. There is nothing better to kickstart one's Panic button than to realize - "Yes, This Is What I Want".

Then also: "WHAT, THERE ARE ONLY 30 PLACES??!!".

Already the niggling whispers of oh no what if I'm not good enough, yeah I don't think I'm good enough have started prodding Zara and I.

But well! As we have all learnt from our years of adolescence, the only way to bear with annoying voices is to tune them out. The Parental Authorities should have realized this by now.

Time to self-exhibit, just a little! Give me some feedback love baby. (Hahaha!) (I do not know how to explain my abrupt bursts of cheesiness. I am deeply, deeply apologetic.)


Say hello to the Boy, whom some of you readers have yet to see!

You've seen this before, but here it is anyway, re-coloured.

I still like this old photo, very much. It might be just me though, A MEASLY PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS. I am sure it is not because I like seeing two boys lying down on the floor. Surely.

Yes?

Next entry: Photoshop pieces!

It was a little too intense.

On the other hand, I did eventually manage to be FRONT ROW CENTER in the mosh pit which despite everything else, is pretty fucking amazing.

I think I have thoroughly fulfilled being a crazy teenager.

If we were to rate the intensity of mosh pits:
Level 1 - Really tame. LOTS off space to jump around, some attempted body-surfing.
example: Rockerfellaskank 2

Level 6 - Packed. Some scary moments. Some difficulty in breathing, seeing but on the whole, still safe and enjoyable.
example: Franz Ferdinand concert

Level 9 - CRAZY SHIT. Too many near-death experiences. Too much bodysurfing. Main concern: air. People being pulled out. People almost fainting. People getting trampled.
example: Muse concert


Part I: Music
But first, let's talk about the music.

Impeccable, to the point that it was rather overwhelming. There was just so much that I did not know what or which to focus on. You could focus on Bellamy's vocals, but then you're drawn into the intense instrumentation and it's like woah drums! no wait, bass! oh god, guitar! vocals, fucking soaring vocals!

Note that the following may not be accurate. Cos you know, there was such a sensory overload that I couldn't track the songs...I think after awhile, I wasn't even able to recognize songs - it was just shit-awesome SOUND.

(Scroll ahead to the *, if you're not much of a Muse fan)

They played :)
- Map of the Problematique;
Which was amazingly beautiful. I think I was in the front row by this time. The layers of guitar instrumentation! I wanted to die, because I could only express my exhilaration with minimal headbanging cos that was all space permitted.
- Starlight:
The lights were incredible at this point - it's a beautiful song. Thought of Syahrul, who was stuck in a Changi barrack :( Can enough be said about the vocals here?
- Invincible
Thought about the Missing Boyfriend again as it is his favourite of the new album. Apparently, a lot of people's too. But still not so for me, although it was undeniably epic.
- Supermassive Black Hole
Hahahaha the Britney Spears Song! But yeah, it was good.
- Assassin
PHWOAR. CRAZY BAT-SHIT INTENSE. I think I was in the third or second row at this time, so the crowd went (enjoyably) nuts. The lights here!
- Endlessly
I think they played this. Thank goodness too, cos as a slow song, it chilled the crowd down abit.

- Soldier's Poem;
On acoustic guitar
- Time is Running Out
Awesome.
- Hysteria;
As a song alone, it is massive. Played live - when the opening riffs began the crowd went berserk. The trilling, then soaring vocals! He was crouching on the stagefloor with his guitar and oh god, so intense.
- Plug In Baby;
Yes!!
- Deadstar
Double-Yes!! Some good headbanging was accomplished here *pleased*
- Feeling Good
I was so happy that they played this. Bellamy was on a white piano, and at that part, he sang into a loudhailer which was da-yum! Sexy. And there was white confetti -.-"
- Butterflies and Hurricanes
I think they played this. It's a rather long song (officially 5:01) so I might have lost track haha
- City of Delusion
I think mosh pit wise, this was a pretty tough time. Shoving, making sure I had air..thus, not much attention was paid to the song itself.
- Knights of Cydonia
- Exo-Politics

They didn't play :(
- Pink Ego Box
- House of the Rising Sun
- Thoughts of a Dying Atheist
- Cave; dammit, was hoping so much that they'd play this.
- Unintended; see above.
- Agitated; disappointed they didn't play this, but good too I guess. If they did, I think people would have died in the crowd surge.

In retrospect, they played a hell lot of songs! Haha while I was there it was moving so fast, so intensely and then it ended. At least, that's how it felt - one long, beautiful assault on the ears.

*Part II: Mosh Pit

On the body though, not so beautiful an assault.

The drama began with Jennifer.

I don't care Jenn, I'm telling!

The show had not even started okay, but they were playing some music. The crowd pressure was considerable. This girl suddenly crouched down on the ground - at first I thought she was making a phone call.

But no, she was feeling giddy, which okay, we'll keep a close eye on you. General concern and whatnot.

When she crouched down the third time however, a WAVE of bodies surged from both our left and right - which let me tell you, is incredibly scary because it would have trampled over her. Incredibly, in retrospect, Tash, Aini and myself managed to form a ring around her and either through a burst of superhuman strength stemming from panic and SURVIVAL, managed to push back the surge.

Most likely also is that the crowd in close proximity saw the Casualty (that's you, Jenn) and helped too, which is the Thoroughly Awesome thing to note about mosh pit behaviour. More on such etiquette later.

So when we finally got her to stand, we and the crowd tried yelling for attention so that they could pull her out and YEAH THIS IS THE PART WHERE I FEEL LIKE A HERO haha. Because we weren't getting the security's attention, with my free arm I threw the poncho that I had in hand and it landed exactly in front of the security guy's face (who was a distance away). This is awesome because in general, I have a reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally crappy aim.

Hurrah this proves that when the situation calls for it, I CAN DO ANYTHING hahaha!

So! It was my thrown poncho that first got the security's proper attention and consequently, Jennifer Champion was saved. (At least, that's how I remember it lol)

But anyway, fucking nuts lah, this girl in the end was fine, and had a hell lot of fun. Perhaps more so that me and Tash who were overwhelmed in the front row. Pffbt. WELL AT LEAST I WAS CLOSE ENOUGH TO LOOK UP HIS NOSTRILS, HAH!

In the early beginnings of the concert, there was some fair amount of bodysurfing, which after the novelty passed, began to piss the hell out of me.

It sucks okay. In rock concert footage, it always seems like a lot of fun, and crazy rowdy camaraderie but hell to the N-O. We're "supporting" you because your arse is about to crush my FACE and I need to BREATHE dammit! Tash said she punched a guy who was bodysurfing and I can only say that I wish I had done the same.

The middly first half of the show was rough, with massive, ribcage-crushing shoving especially because we were in the third or fourth row. It came to a point where it seemed that the crowd's bodies (consisting entirely of shoulders, because of my height) were going to smother me. It was at this moment that I thought: This is why my mum doesn't want me to go to a rock concert - I could die here.

And I don't think anyone who was there could honestly say that it wasn't a very real possibility. I also think this was why I did not feel as exhilarated as at the Franz Ferdinand show. A good portion of my adrenaline was being channeled into making sure I stayed alive.

How To Stay Alive (for short-ish people)
1. Keep your head up, as in TILT it to make sure you have access to air.

2. Always, always make sure that your hands are not pinned to your sides, because you need them to push people back. Keep them at chest level, elbows out, for good leverage. Good also is having an arm free in the air - no, this is not to make ROCK-4EVA signs, but to get security's attention when you need it, and also, to get water.

3. Communicate. Sounds crazy I know, talking in a civil manner in a hellhole but it works. Rather than a lot of angry shoving, there's angry shoving but people know that you're shoving only because you need to BREATHE. When they know this, I think its realized that you are a Person instead of an anonymous body with whom to struggle against.

Such is the etiquette that I mentioned before. At the Franz Ferdinand gig, I felt like a collective whole with the crowd physically, but this time, it happened mentally as well. After awhile, you realize that you are completely in tune with the crowd's movements and crazy mish-mash of shouted single words and hand gestures.

It's quite incredible, and thoroughly interesting, from the perspective of studying human behaviour.

Words are reduced to move, out! out!, 1-2-3 push back!, you okay?, everybody okay?, need water?

Gestures eventually have clear and distinct meanings. Palm straight faced out means Wait. Lots of people pointing at the head of a single person means This one. He wants out! After a period of some rough shoving, looks given and returned mean Okay?/Okay. To get your attention, the security would gently touch the top of your head, which I find strangely intimate and perhaps because of this, rather reassuring.

I had a snippet of conversation with a girl beside me who went:
"This is the worst mosh pit I've been too! I can't even mosh!"

"Well at least you can breathe."

"True."

Or funnily, with this guy behind me where I said:
"Can you move back please?"

"It's the people behind pushing!"

"Sorry. I'm going to have to push you anyway."


The show finished, with a single, lucid thought in my mind: That was intense.

But hell yeah, I feel like a tough cookie for having survived it all! FRONT ROW CENTER, NAH I'M NOT BRAGGING AT ALL.

Hahaha, I feel accomplished.

OMGUH MUSE TODAY.

My heart is all a-flutter.

I'm so worried that I'll leave the house all excited, then realize I'd forgotten my ticket.

Last night I nightmare-d that I was on my way to Fort Canning for the concert but so many things kept going wrong! And I was late for the concert. THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN TODAY.

Evidently, 512MB of RAM is not enough for the RAM-whore that is Photoshop.

My frail, 512MB is Tokyo and thus, crashing disastrously under the savage rampage of uh, moving lots and lots of shapes.

I'M IN YOUR COMPUTER, EATING UP YOUR RAM!!!

I AM SO FRUSTRATED I WANT TO SCREAM. But of course, the worse kind of frustration is the sort that you are resigned to, such that the only sound that you are possibly making are whimpers:

Meep! Meep! Meep!

I am so sad. Going to go draw on Yeuy's shoes now (will post pictures soon). Dammit, damn technology! And thus, we conclude.

At least, even if a lot of things have been almost-disastrous, and I'm sort of emotionally drained, tense, and embarrassingly weepy...

I JUST HAD THE BEST SOLITAIRE GAME EVER.

Take comfort, dear heart. Surely, this is no mere co-incidence!

But also, to cheer myself up I have bought:
- the February issue of TeenVogue.
Since I am no longer in class with people who buy such magazines (i.e. Tash or Stacey), I now have to buy them myself! For reasons such as this, I miss school dreadfully - what, no more free magazine browsing!

* I was actually looking for the February issue of W, because (I hope you're reading this Jenn), it has a lovely, lovely pictorial/interview of DANIEL CRAIG & NICOLE KIDMAN. I've seen peektures, and they are awesome. Swoon-time, you lot!

- Three new pairs of ear studs.
Three, you cry, how extravagant! Well, not so my dear reader. For I only purvey a certain shop in Bugis Street that sells these pretty new studs 3 for $5! Ever since I found this nifty little place, I have solemnly sworn not to patronize other shops! For they cheat your money!

And so, I am a little bit cheerier. Although I'm not sure how I feel now, having finally gotten around to surveying and downloading Photoshop brushes online. It's like:

"Cheyy that's how they did it! Wah lau, damn cheaterbug."

I want to be a cheaterbug too, hahaha!

Racism, is dumb. (Woah, profound statement!)

Okay, but seriously. It all started when Syahrul told me that he had a Malay friend who was for a time, neo-Nazi skinhead.

YES, BUT YOU'RE MALAY AND THUS, NOT ARYAN. IF THE ORIGINAL NAZIS WERE HERE, THEY'D SLAUGHTER YOU BEFORE YOU COULD SAY, "ACHTUNG"! They would be offended that you allied yourself with them, and you know, you just don't want to offend the Nazis.

You know what they're like when that happens.

Silly billy.

Welcome to the new year.

Let's defy the evident death of this blog by posting! Well, here I am tip-tapping on the keyboard trying to pull out of this dry spell, think think what is there to say?

A List

• I spent the New Year at Tash's house partaaay, which was really fun for many reasons.
  

1. Our arrival brought upon much screams of genuine JOY and MIRTH and yes, give it up for burst of sincere and intense emotion! (We told her that we were not coming, God-Knows-Why actually. But I suppose Mission Plans for Pleasant Surprises need no rational justification. Which is nice.)
2. There was much mad laughter.
3. Quite absurd actually.
4. And, the best part I think, is the DANCING WITH NO SHOES ON. It is comfortable, it is casual, it is comfortable and altogether BRILLIANT. I mean, I'm a sucker for shoes but truth be told, it is a mildly crippling relationship I have with them.

Exhibit A
My most recent addition:

I wear it without the funny strap because it well, looks funny. But the colour is so saturated, and shiny, that I just have to forgive it for battering my toes. I mean, how can you not when the shoes make your feet look as if they're sheathed in bright leaves, wet with rain? You just do, you just do.

• I have, for the past month, been working in a studentcare/daycare centre. I swear, each day spent there was a blog-worthy moment SO THERE ARE SO MANY STORIES TO TELL.
  
• Which makes it a little bit baffling, why this blog has been so empty, of late.
  

Things That Make Me a Bit Sad

• So a couple of my secondary school friends went to the Siloso Beach countdown party, and suddenly I feel sad that I didn't go with them. I didn't because the parental authorities would not approved, and I only went to Tash's cos I told them it was a small gathering. Which it was, a kinda loud, small, gathering. HOW WAS I TO KNOW, is my weak defence.
  
• Well anyway! I feel a bit left out. A social miscalculation per'aps?
• But I really didn't want to face the crowds, AND have to pay to face the crowd. That's valid, I think. No?
  

• Also, dammit, I have no prom photos!
  
• This is because I did not bring my own camera.
• This was because for some reason, I feel much too silly whipping out my own camera and indulgently taking photos of myself and surrounding friends.
• This however, does not come into play when it is the camera of other people.
• Then I most willing to vapidly pose and prance about!
• AND CERTAIN PEOPLE HAVE BEEN RATHER TARDY WITH THEIR PHOTO-SENDING.
• This person's name starts with a 'Z' and ends with an 'ara'.
• Hello Zara!

And because I am truly an exhibitionist, even though recent behaviour would beg to differ, here's a painting I did, badly scanned.