i am still sore about the whole fiasco of my composition. but i shall not mutter on and on about it, because i think They are quite sick of my repeated mentioning it. i will though print out a few copies and ask some other english teachers to review it on monday. its my prelims.

speaking of english teachers, guess who called my handphone yesterday while we were having a girly window-shopping trip yesterday after mamma mia?

'hello izyanti, this is ms lee speaking.'
'oh, um, hi. yes ms lee?'
'izyanti..yabber yabber yabber yabbe-'
'um, is this ms lee? ms suzanna lee?'

i was very much confoosed. grk, how did she get my number? freaky-dicky.

to sum it up, she had called me to ask me for one of my techinically correct argumentative essays for the school trilingual digest, which to be honest and frank, i sighed in relief. cuz she hadn't and wouldn't ask me, and i got quite quietly insulted about the non-invitation. lol, how very..conceited of me. but whatever. and then afterwrads, she proceeded to lecture me about my english results, which was what i though she had called for in the first place. *sighs*

mamma mia, like it has been mentioned in all the other blogs, was absolutely enlivening. i think the best bit was when at the end of the show, the audience got up to do some lovely cheesy grooving hurhur. a few of the scenes and dance sequences were particularly memorable, i especially liked the choreography and directing for the Money, Money, Money scene and the finale with the OMG giant 6m in diameter glowing moon. it reminded me of Bear In the Big Blue House, which on a random note, is a very good kid's show by the way. muchos better that Blue's Clues which gets dumb after you get over the cute novelty.

i was inspired [so cliched, that word] to write after the whole mamma mia today. in the rough, about an extra in the cast of a play..and basically her obsession about not being in the limelight. very typical i know, but i'll work on it - some day when im free. hopefully, it won't grow stale like all my other half-baked [pun intended] ideas.

so anyway, here's a little muselet i wrote during religious class [hoho]. excuse the rather awkward names, i hate naming my characters *shrugs*.this takes place during in a cast after-show party:

There it was, all by itself on the table. She couldn't believe how Olivia could bear to part with the beautiful bouquet. If it had been her, she was sure that it would be permanently attached to her arms for the whole night, the rapturous burst of colours accompanying her to sleep by her pillow. But of course, for Olivia, this was just another well-intentioned gift that she did not really care about. What was one bouquet -and not a very expensive one at that- compared to the dozens she recieved season after season?

With that reasoning, Jean tried to inconspicuously toe to the table where the flowers lay. She turned to look around, reassuringly, as always, nobody was watching her. Gingerly, she reached out a hand, rustling the translucent crepe paper. She sniffed the air and inhaled the fresh greeness of the flowers. She savoured it, it was the scent of approval and even more wonderfully, admiration.

Her fingers caressed the velvety blooms lightly and allowed the sprigs of babybreath to tickle her palm. Once again, she checked to see whether anybody was watching her, she paused as she looked around, almost daring them to make eye contact with her. Holding her breath, as if about to do a very dirty thing indeed, she grasped a thin green stalk and with a quick tug, uprooted it from the bouquet. Hurriedly, she stuffed it in a pocket inside her jacket, wincing at the thought of bruised petals.

Walking to the bus stop, she felt the leaves tickling her. Her flower was a burden that was both unsettling and delicious. It thrilled her to think of the stolen, no, taken flower in her posession. Like a child slowly unwrapping a gift, she reached for the bloom in her jacket. In the illuminated night, the petals were dark crimson, almost maroon. She knew though that it was in fact, an exquisite ruby red. It was a bit rumpled, she lovingly arranged the petals to the perfect condition it had been the bouquet. A petal threatened to fall off and she considered plucking it out but instead, caringly patted it back into place. This is my flower.

She sat down on the cold plastic bench of the bus stop. It was just her and the flower, and some old man sitting at the next bench. She knew it must have looked stupid, constantly fiddling with the flower but as she grazed it against her cheek, she did not care.

"That's a very nice flower. "

It took her a full second to realize that the old man was indeed talking to her. Snapping out of her reverie, she said, "Yes, it is isn't?"

"Don't mind me saying this, but you look very much in love miss."

"Oh. Well, erm."

"Did a certain young man give it to you?"

"It wasn't ah, exactly given to me."

They fell silent. The bloom lay silent in her hands.

A bus finally rumbled near, and she and the old man got up to anticipate its arrival. As she did do, she tripped on a tiled chip and dropped the flower. It landed in a little patch of mud and she let out an almost whimper. She picked it up quickly, and gave a small cry. An unseen thorn had pricked her, she held up her index finger to the light and saw a droplet of blood. Instinctively, she sucked the injured finger. The taste of blood and mud mingled in her mouth.

She had reached home. With a click and tinkle of keys, she unlocked the door and stepped in. She flicked on the lights and headed to her bedroom. She placed the taken flower carefully on her bed and reached in her drawer for a box. It was silver with carved details, her mother had given it to her when she was very young. Picking up the flower, she wistfully caressed it with her sore finger. She opened the box, and placed the red bloom along with the other wilting flowers .

Cartoons

The beanbag in the living room is his throne and every afternoon aftere school, he reclaims it. Ian turns on the television and tunes to the only channel he watches, Cartoon Network.

He will sit there for an entire four hours until I call him for dinner and that too is scoffed down in mere minutes before he shuffles off to watch more cartoons. His life revolves around it, and I would not be surprised is he dreamed in technicolour as well.

That plastic box is at the same time, a cursed and revered object in the house. It is ridiculous to call it evil, but it is. I have lost my son to it, and my son has lost himself. Is it all my fault? He hardly talks to me and teachers have reported that my dear son, the once talkative and rambunctious Ian, has become withdrawn and reclusive. They ask me why, but I am never sure what to answer.

………………………………

My eyes are dry and tired from the unblinking stare that I have been giving the buck-toothed Bugs Bunny. Nothing interesting today, it is a rerun that I have watched do many times that I know the exact tauntings he says to all who chase him.

I mouth his lines. My lips curl into words that have no sound and hence, no audience. A bit like what I want to tell my mother really.

She thinks I sit here all day watching the slapstick antics of these running and talking animals. That is not what I do though, there are only so many time that a falling anvil can be funny and that novelty has left quite some time ago.

What’s up doc?, the rabbit asks.

Well, not much mother. I still resent you for leaving us, you know. Three years is a long time, I don’t think I can just let it go.

The lines on the screen go blurry as I sink into myself. I do not hear dialogue, just mufled sounds. No moving scenery of the Western desert, just washes of colour. Finally, peace. I have lost myself in the predictability of the cartoons. I am not really here. I am somewhere else, away from the tangles of the convoluted theads of my mind.

………………………………………………

He is still sitting there, catatonic. The television blares kitschy Western music. The Roadrunner is still running running running, he is a blur. No one will catch me!, he beeps.

He is running away, My son speeds of into the chrome sun of the desert, leaving me in this trail of dust. He refuses to talk to me and I sadly, do not know what to do. After three years of absence, I have forgotten how to be a mother. I reach for an apple in the fruit basket and wash it under the tap, The water feels cool against my tight skin, the thing that makes me feel trapped. I am uneasy in this new skin of mine.

The knife cuts the apple into neat slices. The apple is no longer whole and its juicy flesh is exposed for all to see and devour, vulnerable. Did I do that to him when I left?

I did. My heart wrenches in guilt. My hands feel the smooth skin of the ruby red apple, and I remember him, my child. Sitting in my lap, we were watching Snow White. How he squealed in delight at the glittering jewel mines and cringed at the ugliness of the transformed queen. Was I too like the queen to him now? Once beautiful, but now forever ugly in his eyes. He refuses to look at me.

The slices are on a plate, I walk over to his throne, wary. Silly of me to be afraid of my own son, but I am. I sense his animosity and ut does nothing but pain me. I am afraid that he does not love me.

That is my fear. My nightmare, that I probably deserve. After all, vilains must be punished. I set down the plate beside him. He will not touch it till I go away. I know your habits, my son.

I go back to the kitchen and look at him. He takes the apple, he bites. A smile creases my face.

…………………………………….

The apple is sweet and the juices run down my throat. Sometimes she gives me oranges, or pears. But I like the apples best. I would never tell her though.

I will not tell her that I still remember the first tome we watched Snow White. I loved it, and I think she did too. Popeye is playing, he is annoying I think. Spinach is disgusting, apples are much better.

I wil never be able to tell her that I wanted Snow White to eat the apple though I knew that it was poisonous. Surely an apple so red and saturated with colour must have tasted so good.

Bruto asks, how you doing?

Still angry, I reply. I still resent for leaving so suddenly. Why did you go? I wondered and pondered for those three years. You were unhappy with father I know, but did you not know that things will always end happily ever after? That was what you taught me with the Disney cartoons.

You left and I was alone with father, and he was alone with himself. We were sad, I think his heart broke the way Cinderella’s glass slipper did. Shattered into a million pieces. I hope you heard it. I did, in every second of his sullen silence.

And then, you came back. Father called you, you said, he told me that he had cancer. Suddenly, you were in our lives again and I did not know whether you were the villain or the hero. I wa still flummoxed, overwhelmed by your return, his illness and soon, his departure form our lives.

I am still very much confused, mother. I do not know what to do, and I think you feel that way too. When I see you, I do not know whether to run to or away from you.

Which is why I stay silent and watch cartoons, mother. Things are easy and simple here. Everything is defined by a clear black line. One day, I too will have my clear black line and these monologues will stop because then, I will know. The cartoons would have elucidated me, and things will be all right.

I will talk to you, and yes, that’s all folks.





















please leave commentary. will tell you full details of my reason behind this when it's not 0156.

yesterday, i discovered that i have *drumrolls* tear drop shaped nostrils. i revel in my unique-osity because i am the only one in my bunch of friends that have them. ohohohoho they who are owners of mere triangle and round nostrils, cower at the existence of my nostrils!

it was a thoroughly enlightening and entertaining ride on the MRT that we had yesterday. other than comparing each other's nostrils we also sang several enthusiastic renditions of the Birthday Song while hailing the Birthday Girl as well as recent clique favourite, Sticky-Outy Elbows [aww, it's dedicated to me, how uberly sweet of them].

i think it was at this point that our truly exhibitionistic selves were exposed. the more we glimpsed that some of the passengers were smiling amused at our antics, the more antic-y we got! and trust me, we are very full of said antics.

or maybe the above only applies to me. ooh-er.

but you know what's even more significant? i think we were more entertaining that Jack Neo and his crew. or it could be just my biased dislike against him that's speaking out. we should make a movie! based on teenagers!

man, that is such a good idea.

what did you say? oh, they have made productions based on teenagers? but i bet they didn't show the angst that we *sobs* face as students! ..oh, they have. well then, we'll make it completely light and fluffy! true, they did already come up with Light Years, and that was quite flobby too. but what about our luurve lives?? darn, i forgot about the whole Teenage Textbook thingamajig.

man, that is such a bad idea.

but i stil can't stand jack neo though. pbbt!

i am disconcertingly nonchalent about tomorrow's chemistry paper. mug session results are well, if we were to talk about percentage yield and such, it's really LOW. hours put in is much more than what has actually go in. actually, the getting in is quite easy. it's the retaining that is oh so bothersome.

i suppose it's also because of my lit paper. i recieved horrid news about mine yesterday. nadya says i have been whiningly harping on it but pbbt i do not care. i am still upset. to condense the whole traumatic affair, i found out that the marker cannot read my handwriting for my unseen essay and so even though he can tell it has substance and get an A, i will not be getting it. *quietly bawls in a corner*

speaking of korners, we were at the BP mcD under the pretense of mugging today and for some reason, it had literally turned into Mat-Minah Central! i think it's the rain, that's the reason for the sudden congregation. maybe on usual days, when the sun is happily shining, they head off to a Korner and do mat-y things but were hindered by the weather today.

they were very annoying. somehow i am not ashamed of my prejudice against them.

and and AND, we might have just discovered the reason why they like Korners so much. apparently, it is indeed magical and grants you wishes! why have we managed to come up with this deduction? see, nadalala was wistfully looking at a person eating potato sticks. look, he's so happy easting his fries. i want to be happy too. i want to eat fries, said she.

some time later, a friend and her boyfriend came over and lucky for our empty stomachs and more importantly, wallets, he knew the Team Manager. for the ignorant, a Team Manager is a very important figure in the whole McDonald hierachy indeed. so important that he managed to buy 4 Extra Value Meals at incredibly cheap prices! so HURRAH nadya and i stuffed ourselves to death with fries. oh yum.

apparently a stick of fry contains as much oil as the oil on your nose. that is a fact that is supposed to deter me from the yellow salty things [as well as disgust me, i suspect] but i am STRONG. you cannot easily sway me from my beloved nutrient-less food!

oops i digress. my point here is, the Korner grants you your wishes. automatically upon the dawning of this realization, i started chanting A1s for my prelims but i suppose that would count as a miracle.

on a random note, i have been busily printing out photos on my computer after a surge of Nostalgia and then went on a blu-tacking spree all over my desk. so now said desk is not only cluttered with normal debris and detritus but also pictures of your existence my Dear Friends!

here's a list on who's up on my desk:

• chaaaaarmaine
• gennie
• nadalala
• yeuey
• aini
• shi han
• yuzhen
• hui ting [in a slinky dress no less!]
• heng pei
• siim ynn
• matthew
• kass
• andrea
• bern
• siak
• vincent
• hazri
• jolynn
• and my alter-ego, Post-It Girl!

yayness if you're on the list, that means you are very significant in my life. cue: Warm Fuzzies! or..the photo is hilariously ridiculous. if not, it means that a] i have not printed it out yet b] I DO NOT HAVE A PHOTO OF YOU HOW COME WE DON'T? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE, YOU BETTER TAKE A PHOTO WITH ME BEFORE THE YEAR IS OUT AND WE LOSE EACH OTHER IN THE WIDE EXPANSE OF SINGAPORE.

THE PRELIMS ARE A BREEZE.

HOW HAPPY I AM, I NEVER EXPECTED TO LITERALLY FLOP EACH AND EVERY PAPER TAKEN, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF ENGLISH. AND THAT ONE ALWAYS WAITS TO SURPRISES ME, IT JUST LOVES DOING THAT. SO I COULD DO REALLY WELL, OR WELL, FLOB.

the way amoeba flob. flobbity-flob.

i am a funkeh amoeba.

BUT WHAT THE HEY, SAME DIFFERENCE.

I'VE BEEN DOING SO WELL THAT BOTH PRACTICALS WERE TRASHED, I HAVE NOT MANAGED TO FINISH ANY OF THE PAPERS EXCLUDING ENGLISH. MAN, I WILL SO BE UN-JCing FOR THE FIRST THREE MONTHS IN 2005. THIS IS JUST THE WAY I PLANNED IT. UBERLY PERFECT.

I COULD NOT ASK FOR MORE. BUT THEN AGAIN, I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN SO INDULGENTLY BLESSED..JUST LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENS TODAY.

APPARENTLTY, I ALONG WITH THE REST OF THE STUDENTS, HAVE MANAGED TO MISINTEPRET THE PROSE. let me ask you, can you actually misintepret prose? THERE WAS NO CLEAR INDICATION OF THE actual STORY PLOT. SO OBVIOUSLY, IN THE VERY SHORT 40 MINUTES, WE GRASPED AT THE NEAREST FIGMENT OF LOGIC. I DO NOT THINK IT IS COMMON HABIT TO QUESTION AND DELVE INTO SOMETHING TO SEE WHETHER THERE ARE OTHER ANGLES OF LOGIC THAT CAN BE USED.

WILL THESE YOU-LEARN-SOMETHING-NEW-EACH-DAY WONDERS EVER CEASE?

OTHER THAN THAT, I AM HAPPY.

REALLY.

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

i also discovered today that with the growing dominance of my Inner Geek, i have also developed certain personality traits that are interesting indeed.

for example, i am very choosy with the pens that i use. i suppose today served to remind my mother of this particular idiosyncracy of mine. see, a few days ago, i came across this shop. a typical HDB shop selling a mish-mash of everything. it was a new place, walls newly painted in a garish and painful shade of orange. boxes full of cheap plastic artifacts likely to stop functioning in a month or so [even more possible, they don't have a function at all] were littered on the bare concrete floor. curious and irrelevently full from chicken rice, i wandered around the place and came to stop at the shelves of stationery.

i found a pen. it's ink ran surprisingly smooth and the nib was just right, 0.48mm. perfect other than its tacky design. but more importantly, only 80 cents a piece! oh how my stationery-slut soul cried out, cheap cheap you must get it!

and of course, so i did. three in fact, but only because $2.50 with me.

yesterday, i had a discussion with my mother. we had depthful discourse and i told her, mother dearest, you must get me more of those pens. i have fallen in love with them cheap skinny things, i simply cannot do without them for me Examination! inspired by my very inspiring speech, she said, all right daughter i shall get them tomorrow for you. oh how my heart leaped with the fresh joy that came with having new pens! i hurriedly shoved to in her hand the pen and conspiratorally, i whispered, this one. you must get me this one. in fact, BUY THE WHOLE BOX.

and so, i went to sleep dreaming of my new pens. well, not really. i was actually hurriedly re-hashing Warings gossip, but that is another point entirely.

today when i got home, utterly happy-ied up from the disastrous prelims, i skipped to my mother. 'mother mother', i cried, 'did you get the pens?' indeed i did, said she and pointed me in the direction of a yellow plastic bag.

'you got the same brand that i wanted, right?'

'no, i got (insert cheena brand) instead. they right better.'

i frowned. hmm, a straying in my very specific instructions but no matter, i trust her. peering into the bag, my mind careened off into a spin of confoosion amidst the rustling. not only were they a different brand, they were *GASP* in aqua blue ink.

i was utterly horrified and relayed my emotions by spluttering. in a thoroughly bratty manner, i wailed, 'i can't use these!! their, their, b-b-blue! you KNOW i only and ONLY write in black. oh mother how can you disappoint me so? i refuse to use them, give them to my sister.'

it is true, i have fully developed into a student with disturbing a diva-esque attitude.

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

ohmigod ohmigod, mtv's playing an OLD spice girl video! --nostaaaalgia----

tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post MOTORCYCLE tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree [no tree] lamp post tree tree tree lamp post SIGN BOARD tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree [no tree] lamp post SIGN BOARD bougainvillea bougainvillea bougainvillea l-l-l-liiiiiiiine LONGKANG fern fern fern fern fern fern fern tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-line SIGN BOARD. tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post tree tree tree lamp post BUS STOP.

this was the game that nadya and i played on the 190 home. we were both tired, zonked and thoroughly pissed at the very unfulfilling Expedition To Town. hours spent there only brought us to the conclusion that we were not:
rich
pretty
thin
tall
with-a-cute-boy
rich
carefree
gorgeous
tall
thin
rich
enough. as you can see, it really was a vicious cycle; sometimes i don't even know why put myself through such torment. it is a very effective way of forgetting om all things true deep depthful ommm and meaningful.

anyway, i digress.

the two of us were sitting on the steps of the bus when it had reached the highway and we started counting motorcyles that passed us by and it was thoroughly upset when there were no more 2-wheeled vehocles for me to count. then nadya started mis-labelling the road plants as hibiscus and i pontificatingly corrected her. 'they are bougainvilleas, my dear nadalala', said I. she nodded with utter serious-ity and we started chanting the above.

today, we learnt that being singapore, roadside greenery is very well planned. we have no less and no more than THREE trees in between ONE working lamp post. however, there is an exception when there happens to be a SIGN POST before the lamp post, in which we will then only have TWO trees. also, sometimes, the bougainvilleas are nothing but scraggly leaves on twigs so all you see is the longkang. and behind that, the supposed 'wild' foliage consists generally of ferns, a few vines and heart-shaped leaves.

we have also discovered that we can appoximately gauge the speed of the moving bus by taking note of the increasing or decreasing speed of our chant. when the trees, lamp posts, occasional signposts and whee construction work provided diversity[!] moved faster/slower, we had to change the speed of our chant to keep up and hence and therefore, we can safely conclude that the bus driver had in fact, changed the pressure of his foot against the accelerator pedal. we however, were not able to determine the CAUSE of this change because well, we were not able to see from our positions. if we were to actually move in front of the bus to gather said data, we would have lost our favourable positions and therefore, wrecking the entire experiment.

and my mother says i did nothing educational today. pbbt!

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

on another note, i have found my soulmate today in a gorgeous tan blazer-ish jacket that i've been searching for eons from um, zara. i will like to appeal to the masses to help me unite with this beautiful creature; please, donate with utmost generosity.

today's Playlist: 'n sync and backstreet boys.

yes i have the cds and yes, i was listening to them. hah say what you want but the reason why they were pop is because the songs were engineered to be catchy and fun.

pbbt!

honestly, i'd rather listen to my olde boyband cds than the hip-hop trash dominating all the channels of music recently. here i again shall emphasize how much i cannot stand this invasion! in the car, i listen to *croons* Gold 90 FM because both Power98 and Perfect10 are playing some generic mainstream rapper. they're like UFOs. unidentifiable because they all sound the same *seethes*

and mtv, thank you so very much for filling my screen with images of flashy cars, gaudy bling-bling and girls wearing expensive fragments of cloth. i have learnt that to be happy and be -what do they say now?- ah, phat, i must have an ugly boyfriend wearing more jewellery than my entire family has with a huge car that probably consumes so much petrol, it only serves to aggravate the whole crude oil crisis. and of COURSE, i must learn to dress like a whore. whee mammary glands and gluts!

how can they pass this off as hip-hop culture? like kiss my friggin, wholly covered, and non-gyrating arse.

this is not culture. this is cheap trashy marketing. if you're going to take over the airwaves and screentime, at least give me Quality! i do not appreciate being bombarded with attempts of brain-washing and marketing. what i cannot stand i suppose is the degree of blatent-ness. it's so in-your-face, its offensive. because after all, being the consumers, the media is always trying to sell something to us whether its an actual tangible product or an idea or lifestyle, but with the way the media is using hip-hop as it's new medium, i feel like its being slammed right into my face. there is no choice, it is THERE.

this is not very fair is it? i turn on the radio, its there. tv, ditto. i go orchard and i see all the deluded wannabes in their over-priced clothes rattling of the lingo, pretending as if their in some kind of music video.

i feel like going up to them and telling them to WAKE UP. is it because they have no identity of their own that they cling on to this ready-made, instant image? to be fair, there are those who really are into the actual culture and the -do i dare say it?- art that is hip-hop but the buggers who parade around in their fake Von Dutch shirts and baseball jerseys without ever touching a baseball in their life augh.

and if the guys are not bad enough with their disturbing affinity for jewellery and loping around like the hal-evolved apes they are, the GIRLS. oh geez, where do i begin? ah yes, i know.

COVER UP.

who am i specifically directing this to? the minahs. i need other adjectives apart from 'trashy' and 'cheap', help me here.

what is wrong with everybody? or more logically, the malfunction must be with me since the general masses seem to like mainstream hip-hop music pretty fine. meanwhile, i will be huddling in a corner of my room listening to my robbie wiliams[!], britney cds and other non-hiphop stuff. yay pop indie um um bollywood! anything but the Eville One and it's equally schizophreni

fortunately, not everything has been corrupted by market-driven said genre. i am safe. there's still buffy, the Simpsons..harry potter. although i would bet somewhere out there some uber idiot who deserves to rot wrote a incredibly bad piece that was made worse with draco etc using terminology like,

'yo, homey. check out my phat new ride, its' the Nimbus 4500.'
'woah, that's [insert weird term here] dawg.'

ahahahahaha i crack myself up! at the same time, i have succeded in providing myself material for several nights worth of nightmares. *shudders* ...what would dumbledore wear? or auugh, snape.

my sister should not be allowed to choose the communal toilettries that we use.

grk, for some reason, she ALWAYS chooses the wrong thing. she is a total slave to advertising and marketing - she actually believes that we'll orgasmically scream yes! yes! yesss! when we use clairol's shampoo because augh how many times have i told her that it is just simply CRAP.

at least, that's the theory i have come up with to explain her lack of om wisdom in choosing bath soaps. om om i must teach her poor naive 12-year old soul. because i'm too lazy to buy my own stuff cuz when i do, she'll end u using it anyways.

but zenith of her lack of wisdom-osity has led me to this uberly annoyed state. ona grocery shoping trip with mudder dearest, she got us a nice new bottle of shower gel. it is an appealing fruity green and boasts aromatherepy benefits which again is good, i do like ylang ylang and such. like, yay man.

however, my sister chose something that essentially smells like. . . car air freshener. you know that sickening, over-powering, nausea inducing citrus scent? the one that plague taxis, making me hold my breath as long as possible? yes, that one.

and woe is me because today, my facial wash was for some reason in my room and not in its usual place beside the shampoo. typically, i was too lazy to run out to get it but i could not bear the thoughtof not washing my face, i would just feel so icky and uh, incomplete. but whatever, bimbotic idiosyncrasies another topic for another day.

so i had to wash my face with said shower gel and now my face smells like car air freshener. whee.

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

oh hey, here's a survey.

generous readers out there, please, spare a few minutes and recall:

what aura was i giving out when you first saw me?

this is very muchos important for um, scientific research. your lack of participation may cause the dolphins to die and the aliens to come leading to the sad conclusion of the earth spontaneously combusting. *nods with absolute serious-osity*

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

i have not written in a long time.

blogging and the occasional school composition is all i've done this year, which is very sad really. i am for the record, never venturing into poetry EVER again *shudders*. the writing is fine, it's when you read what you've written that i cringe painfully and pray that the ground will swallow me to take me on an educational trip through hell. hopefully, that would teach me permanently never to write poetry again.

thing is, i have all these incomplete and half-baked ideas that never get the oppurtunity to be fleshed out because of the very lame excuse of insufficient time. bugger.

another point is that i almost fear writing a full length prose thingymajig because uh, i recently have been a rather harsh self-critic and opening this door might be rather detrimental to me already fluctuating self-esteem hoho.

exactly the same reason why i refuse to take an IQ test. recently in class [edit: hmm. actaully its only nadya but she's so loud its like the whole class hurhur] has been harping on IQ scores and well, i took a test last time and my score was [insert three digits here] and general pondering of where to take said IQ tests.

i do not want to.

i repeat, in case somebody in alaska has not heard, I DO NOT WANT TO. i have no interest in finding out my IQ largely because of the same self-centered ego reason [which i think is what pushes people to take these tests] except that in my case, it is the reverse. oh yes, of course, there is Curiosity. that's what everyone says. but well, excuse me, that's how the cat was killed and having recently seen an actual one, i do not wish to be that dead cat.

and besides, i have these niggling thoughts which whisper eville thoughts about my probable declining intelligence. evidence can be found in dipping quality of work. hmm. they say that every conversation you have increases or decreases you IQ by a few points. i wonder which egoistic genius came up with that theory. although at the same time, hypocritically of course, i wonder whether said hypothesis has a basis of truth. basis? of course it does. but is it ALL true in all situations and case studies?

interesting. interesting indeed.

What Happened This Morning.

there was a cat lying down beside a tree just outside the school. it was rather cute. white fur, and brownish-grey spots. i said hi. it didn't respond. i wondered why it was sleeping so early in the morning.

it's eyes were open. pretty blue eyes, i peered in. strange, why are its eyes not tracking? and why is it so glazed?

-silence as we realize the stillness of its torso-

i prod it with a stick. it was hard.


and dead.

it is uncanny. in my last post, i said something about giving up on searching for euphoria and instead just valuing simple happiness. and that's what i had yesterday.

the morning started HORRID though. i was uber rotten because i left the house fuming at my mum and there i was, seething when i got up the bus and i realized that all the other BPians were wearing their house Ts and i was in my full uniform! i felt so stupid and proceeded to call my friends and finally ONE of them actually picked up their phone and i found out that i was supposed to at school 15 minutes earlier.

augh.

and then we were late for assembly cuz we weren't sure where it was being held and were detained by the supremely eville and sneering Develline Ee. how i loathe her. she was a sore sight in top to toe maroon. i think she's taken the whole 'maroon is the new In colour!' thing to far. and it was a nylon tracksuit no less *shudders*

but yay jolynn managed to find me a purrrple house T to wear so *beams* no more trouble. and at the last moment, randomly, i remembered that i kept a pair of shorts in the art room so i then proceeded to the field, safely looking like everyone else to do cheesy line dancing.

and the thing with cheese is that taken with a generous amount of sodium chloride, it actually ends up fun because we were all fumbling and making up our own cheesiER dance moves complete with Muppet arms so that too was a barrel of laughs. then at the end of it, we gathered abumch of our classmates and did an impromptu mongolian circle dance as a tribute to our ex-form teacher, mr kuek. it meant a lot to us because some timep back, he had taken a lot of effort [he's usually a lzy bum kinda person hurhur] to book the laptop, carry it up four storeys and *gasp* plug in all the confoosing wires to show us this looong and painfully boring video of mongolian people dancing in a circle. basically, he wanted us to perform it for teacher's day and was a direct hint at us to you know, mend broken relantionships with each other because i suppose for quite some time, our class has been pretty divided. he was beaming at us when he saw the whole bunch of us, clique-less, chortling and poking fun at ourselves.

and the actual dance [swing dance thing] that we put up for the concert went surprisingly smooth [or as smooth as it can get] because even the day before, everything was still rather messed-up and timing was waaay off. *sighs* and i just received the video of our performance and am really just happy. cheers everyone, am so proud of ya! who knows? maybe we'll win the Most Entertaining thingy and get a hamper of junkfood for us to gorge on!

after school, we [ie. matthew, charmaine and i] trooped of to slack around cuz it was his BIRTHDAAAAY and that was uber mega fun too. we ended up bypassing the inoriginal original idea of drinking over-priced coffee hybrids and dropped into chijmes to check out the architecture that i've always loved.

stained glass and spiral staircases nice nice.

we randomly went to jason's and scoured the shelves for unknown food items. the japanese really have gross stewed veggie things. but of course, the cubes of blue cheese swimming with squishy olives in disturbingly murky liquid took the Gross Factor award. and we found out that matthew's favourite childhood food was uh, canned spaghetti+cocktail sausages.

an over-priced lunch at this soup and salad place but it was fine anyway because the cushioned stools were cushy and supported our bottoms muchos well and they played nice oldies music. the potato salad was weird though and matthew's dislike for onions reared its head again. hah i promptly pointed this out because earlier on, he had said my queasiness at the sight of dairy products was weird. *snerk* what can onions do to to you, may i ask? at least i have an ACTUAL problem. i have *dramatic pause* lactose intolerency. HAH! he is the sad irrational git snerky snerk not moi.

and the conversations was typically funnily Random and and oh oh oh i found out about the existence of a certain lurid video of a certain someone *PERVY LAUGH* i am however unsure about wanting to see it though. do i, or do i not? that is the seemingly unneccesary question. oh what the heck, matthew, you better somehow find it and /then/ i'll decide whether i want it or not mwahahahahahahahaha.

ditching the citilink way of going to the esplanade, we trooped of into the balmy outdoors. we walked through matthew's church and went saga seed hunting charmaine who i think, might be colour-blind cuz she walked over the things while looking for it hurhur. and then we discussed the merits of long swishy straight hair ie. charmaine's while she tried to defend my more, ah yes, medusa-ish *flashes big WHATEVER fingers at the whole world* but she should not have bothered. there is no hope of trying to convince the male species against something that i think, may be genetically embedded.

we dissed this installation 'art' piece at the E, it was basically a bunch of painted bamboo poles and honestly, looked like what might be the setting backdrop for those gongfu movies if the were on an anorexic budget. pfft! the same to a couple of those singapore Lions around, some were just shoddy. tsk tsk. we went to the library where i bemoaned my lack of musical ability which is hah linked to the same ineptness at all things mathematical. ah ho hum, pig's bum. at least i haven't managed to crack any glass items yet with my singing =
we snuck up the barricaded [under reconstruction] escalator to the terrace thing but the doors were locked, pfft! ah well, so went to the riverside and counted the crabs on the rocks. at first there were only two but quite suddenly, it was like Invasion of the Alien Crabs. there were so many and who would have thought they actually existed in so urban a place?

sadly and guiltily, i started thinking of my mum's crab laksa though.

it was really nice weather, just a bit shady the way i like it with a breeze and it felt just so zen sitting there with my closest-est friends. i didn't want to go home at all. but like we said later on, our afternoon was a paradigm of escapism and bleargh, we had to return to the Real World. that's just the sad way things work. on the way back though, we came up with brill ideas.

- coming up with my own line of stationery [we were at the uber over-priced notebook place and i was cooing over this really pretty one and then realized it looked kinda similar to what i do] the wheels in my head have been turning and thoughts have been churning, not unlike the way they make cheese. urgh squirmy.
- Gatsbying matthew's hair! hohohohoho. this if anything comes ou if it, will be muchos fun. charmaine and i have a great task about our hands.

and so end the tale of the Afternoon and we live not so happily ever after, but it is okay. The End.

i've always thought a good regression to your childhood is an effective cure for the blues. right now, all i want to do is stay at home and watch disney movies. classic cartoons like cinderella [yay!], sleeping beauty and the little mermaid. and the lion king is good too.

i suppose its the same logic when slightly psycho people hide in That little corner in their head - seems like a good idea now. i really wish i could forget being 16, taking the O's and other crappy stuff that just contaminate your life with the uber kill-joy factor.

don't you?

i do.

let's all be kids again! read books revolving around watching jack and jane climbing a tree and going on a picnic at a cold dreary beach with their dog spot. school was a mere 3 hours spent colouring playing at horror of horrors, practising your writing.

i can't remember much of my childhood though. it couldn't have been just about watching seseme street and trips to the library. i don't think i played at the playground much, i was pretty anti-social even back then. hmm i remember going to the botanic gardens. i never enjoyed that much other than feeding the swans and ducks.

i had imaginary friends. not that i actually believed in them, i had them because i heard that children my age normally had them and decided to try it out. i'll set up my plastic crockery and have picnics with myself and the air. i would try to imagine said friends but couldn't. i couldn't even try imagining imaginary friends! it just made me feel stupid because i knew that it was just me, myself and i.

sometimes, my cousins would come over, then we'd play school. we even had an attendence list! and we had spelling tests, and i always give nice stars to all my students even when they didn't actually write. scrawls were good too *nods*.

and sometimes i played cook. i'd take remnants and scraps from the kitchen like veggie stalks, mash it up and add 'condiments' like baby oil and talcum powder, wrap it up neatly in brown paper [the kind used when you take-away your food] and give it to my mum, and she'd smile. thinking about it now, she probably grimaced and threw it away the moment i left *snerk*

anyhow, i think its safe to say that it was muchos funner than handling the big O's and biyatch principals.

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

hurhur you know when i went back home thoroughly drained from trauma after the biology practical, i took a nap. and i dreamt.

i dreamt that i was in this weird Amazing Race thing with white water rafting [which seemed so fun and real] and going through this crazee wet market. but the mainpoint that dtruck me was the through out the whole dream, i was trying to catchup with my bio teacher, mrs wong.

i would spot her in the crowd and i'll go mrs wong mrs wong waaaait, i need to ask you something aand she'll pause and wait for me to catch up but when i came near her, she would suddenly have to go and i'll be waaaait, i need to ask you something reallly important! mrs wong! but she'd be gone. then i'll see her again and the whole routine repeats and it's just horrible.

talk about surpressed frustrations.

i've been doing a lot of that recently. i think whatever i vent out to people is only a whisper? of the surpressed scream.

i haven't blown up at anybody in a loooong time, that used to help. somebody would tick me off and i'd scream and rage and fume and seethe at said person and afterwards, i would feel all better.except now, if i do blow up, i feel guilty afterwards. so that's no fun either.

find me something fun to do people! cuz i for one can't think of any shiet that will leave me with decent euphoria. but then again, things in life don't usually happen in extremes, it's always the tiring boring mediocrity. so why look for euphoria when it's unlikely?

i'll tell you why, because the possibility is still there! just like there are pots of gold at the end of rainbows and you can marry a prince when the day before, you were sleeping with the ashes.

O HAIL THE OPTIMIST.

am slightly happier now that i've burned a cd of soothing oldies to accompany my mugging.

this morning was traumatizing.

i even came up with a song as a soundtrack:
-sing to the tune of Tomorrow-

the sun won't come up tomorrow!
cuz we we flunked our prelim practicaaals,
now we're dead.

the sun won't come up tomorrow
you can say goodbye to rjc,
there's no hope~

chorus:
we've flunked it!
its all screwed!
why didn't it
change colour?
there was nothing
that we could do!

we kept shaking the thing
stupid test tube
why the hell was it stiiiill bluue?
dumb enzyyymes

we've flunked it!
its all screwed!
why didn't it
change colour?
we'll spend first three months....
slacking awaaaaaaaay

*sighs*

what happened was that we were supposed to time the duration that the different concentrations of enzymes digested the iodine-stained starch solution.

sounds easy enough right?

oho but 10 minutes passed and still NO decolourization at all. in the next 30 minutes, only /some/of us had one test tube decolourizing and geez if that that too half an hour, what about the double triple and quadryple dilutions?? huh huh?

we were all in a silent frenzy, furiously shaking the test-tubes. we asked the teachers in wide-eyed panicky tones why it was taking so long? is this supposed to happen? and she just gave me this benign look and told me to the next experiment.

augh.

the unlucky one re-did this experiment over and over thinking they mixed up the solutions and had no time to do the rest of the paper because they were to caught up in their uh, frenzy.

near the end of the practical, i was so frazzled [like others] and knocked down several containers of liquid, thereby soiling my paper. augh. bio practicals are supposed to be EASY.

later on, amid the panicky exclamations of everybody who were on the same shift as us, a teacher finally came to explain What Had Gone Wrong.

the enzymes had been in the refrigerator and when it was time for us to use it, the bloody protein things had NOT WARMED UP TO USABLE TEMPERATURE.

am not happy. it was uber disastrous. i walked out of the bloody lab stunned.

today, i woke up with heart palpitations.

my first thought was fuck it's morning!

the last thing i remembered was lying in bed waiting for the click of the door closing and therefore, daddy dearest has left the building. i would then be able to stay up as late as possible cramming and finishing the threatening inanimate objects called homework.

• 1 lit essay
• 2 chemistry papers [uber tough ones no less]
• completed art prelims
• malay paper
• and um, random e.math

well, that 'as late as possible' turned out to be 5 minutes [or less, i suppose]. all i recall is visualising the format of my last preliminary studies board for art and the next moment

my mum flicked on the lights and yelled at me to get up.

panic panic panic my heart was hammering from the sudden onslaught of even more stress. it was 6 am and i had done NOTHING at all which meant i could NOT go to school because all the lessons that day required the presence of completed homework. oh no oh dear what what shall i do?

i did not go to school.

it's a beautiful thing when you get to pick and choose which lessons you go to and how you spend your day because hey, we know that when you're at school, you just do not have a choice.

the weather was nice and cool. i spent the morning sitting in my room right in front of the fan doing my art at my nice slow diddly pace. sneaked into school at 1400 for art [avoiding teachers] and learned pottery [extreme beginner's stuff but it was new to me so YAY].

muchos cool. AND i managed to skip a e.math test that i had forgotten about! uber coolness. i haven't had such a pleasant day like this in eons,

thank you. i needed it.

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

i just read this very vehement anti-Lee post from someone i know.

all i have to say is, why?

i'm not falling for propoganda here, i'm not blindly following the government. its just that honestly, i cannot see the cause of this person's wrath.

i think they have done a fairly good job with our country. not great and there is a LOT of room for improvement but so what. it's not alone in that characteristic.

why are you so wrathful O Angry Idealist?

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

i've been spending alot of time in the library.

its Izyanti's Quiet Time.

i've been needing a lot of that recently. my nerves are not frazzled, their frayed and the commotion of people just make it worse sometimes. on the other hand, when i'm alone a lot i risk my tendency to be indulgent and sink into DepressionAbyss.

What To Do When Izyanti Turns Metephorically Blue:

note to Patrick Star:

• do not leave me alone when i'm in a funk. i hate being alone when i'm in that state, i feel abandoned. unless of course, i ask to be alone then that's a different matter =P

note to Everybody:

• please please do not ask me why i'm crying. i hate that. better still, don't acknowledge the salty tracks! this includes the whispering of why is she crying? what happened? did she break-up with her [non-existent] boyfriend?
• buy me candy. sure i could do this myself, but hey that's absolutely less fun.
• do stupid stuff hurhur. i love stupid stuff. besides, i get warped and will then have an even stranger sense of humour ohohohoho.
• send me home in a taxi with my fuzzy green sweater.
• uh, don't put me near a mirror? *snerky snerk*
• kill all annoying people. [hmm. just occured to me that that would include me and most of my buddies. oh well]

What to Do When Izyanti Turns Literally Blue:

• CALL THE AMBULANCE DAMMIT!
• if it calls for cpr, make sure its not a fugly guy. or a fugly girl. ooh-er.
• oh oh and i happen to have a suicide note on me and its uber pathetico, please throw it away. i do not wish to die remembered for painfully angsty writing.
• and make sure i wasn't murdered.

i digress [a lot].

ah yes, libraries. it's just a simple pleasure that i have not experienced in a long time - being surrounded by books in a quiet place with no leg cramp yet and a bag of candy all to myself.

oh whot peace.

all those books waiting to be read. soon my dearies, soon. i used to go to the library twice a week, 4 books a time but that sadly has stopped. the bookworm in me has been resurrected.

yayness after the O's [my life is now on a pre-O's and post-O's calander] i'm going to hog the library and vcd rental shop. it is pathetic that a thought like this fills me with euphoria but it does anyway. so hah!

advanced invite to chaaarmaine nadala2 gennie and co.

- movie marathon, my place! dumdeedumdum! soon!

i have emptied my bladder and am happier.

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

i have this urge to blog but not much to say.

this is the fourth entry that i've written, the rest were quickly deleted away when i saw the whiny tone it had.

i should probably Write. i have tried, but fear that continuing with the half-baked thing might only serve to add on another item on the Confirmed Incompetent List.

it's been growing that one.

if it helps, i managed to do my bio practical really well today. i finished first yay because the rest were all befuddled by the befuddling instructions [just like the time we were asked to carve up that stick of celery] *beams* haha i rock.

pfft who am i kidding? i do not think there is anything more pathetic than this.

biology practicals.

recently too, i have discovered other imperfections i never knew i had by very helpful friends and a PARENT who pointed them out with much enthusiasm and mirth.

apparently, everybody but me knows that i have sticky-out elbows.

can elbows do anything but stick out? that's what i want to know. i thought mine were perfectly normal but hey, guess not. *nods wisely* you learn something new everyday.

sooner or later, i think someone will come up and tell me, with no offense meant of course, that i have weird [add insignificant body part here] oh haha you mean you never noticed it before?

one day, maybe soon, i will go down to orchard road with an entourage of buff intimidating beefcakes. i shall go up to random strangers and cheerfully impose Izyanti's Let Me Tell You What's Wrong With You service for free. with scathing sarcasm, i shall deliver enlightenment and revel in pleasure to see them crumple on the floor with their equally shattered self-esteem. oh oh what power i shall behold!

and um, if they react with violence, well, that's what the beefcakes are there for.

somehow though, i don't think singaporeans are that mild. if they were not to fling profanities at me, they'll probably glare at me in a mixture of horror/amazement before dismissing me. and you know rejection leaves me all sulky.

it would be an interesting social experiment nontheless.

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

i want to rant about something but this being a blog that people actually read, i don't think i shall lest i walk out of the house tomorrow to find people with pitchforks and blazing torches waiting for me.

thing is, i can't tell anybody either but i want to. that's why scribbling in my diary won't work.

solution!

i'll go stand in front of the mirror and have a deep conversation with myself. *nods wisely* you can only count on yourself. hmm. but what if i get annoyed with myself? i'm not very good at ignoring random thoughts in me head.

you know what i need? a random stranger.

someone i've never met and will never meet again. hurhur i need a burden loading bay person. let's see, if someone were to suddenly come up to me and unload their Poor Sad Life Story on me..i would be freaked and annoyed. and i'd tell them off.

aha hence and therefore, i shall find a docile meek person with a hint of intelligence and well, if i end up traumatizing them, heck, ain't mah problem.

or i could just try the wall in my bedroom.

why, how do you do, wall? it's amazing that despite having been with you for a whopping 12 years, i have no idea who you are! tsk tsk, please forgive my habit of ignoring inanimate objects.

so, what's your life story? not much huh, well, a whole lot sure has been happening in mine! just yesterday, something happened that left me horribly and terribly perturbed . . .

etc etc.

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

on a more happy and irrelevent note, cassandra claire [the muchos best fanfic writer of all fandom] has secured herself an agent! she's writing a YA novel and augh augh i bet it's going to be awesome.

yayness *beams*

you know what's better than caffeine? [heads up aini!]

2 mega multi-vitamin pills and chicken essence.

that's what i had for breakfast -not to mention nutella YUM- and i arrived at school actually in a state of perkiness and brain not caught up in the remnants of somnolence.

which i believe is rather good. after all, fully functioning brain equals to maximum absorbtion of supposedly crucial knowledge which will then ensure me good O Levels grades and yes yes, i'll live happily ever after with a wardrobe full of glass slippers i never wear because they give me blisters and singing mice to entertain me. and of course, the essential Charming toyboy.

oh whot a perfect life i would lead!

but well, you know, not gonna happen. i don't think i could stand another 2 yeara of 'academia' ie. jc. despite all my qualms about mass comm, i think i would suffocate. a friend suggested going to a Hip jc. hurhur, there is no difference buddy when the A's come rolling by. tis all the same, too soon and too similar.

i sense that i am rather incoherent to[night]. i suppose this is because that i am tired and therefore, have reverted back to my usual state of um, living and all the excess vitamin B that i had ingested earlier on has either a) been fully made use of b) been fully peed out.

i don't know. maybe i should stop taking them? but i like the rush, despite the fatigue that comes later on. and it doesnt give the the queasy buzzy feeling too much caffeine gives me.

ah yes. i did quite crappily for my malay O's. merf. a grade lower than what i expected but no matter really. i'm not that affected. what i am annoyed about is that my mother told her friend who told her son and he was like 'she should work harder'.

pfft! it is irrational annoyance i know. i shouldn't be bothered but i am, mainly because i don't think it was Nice of mother dearest to tell her friend. just because i seemingly am non-chalent about it does not mean i want the whole world to know or at the least, make it free knowledge to the gossip/what's-new information network. augh can i say privacy?

ironic that i am ranting this slight discourse on privacy on my online diary but pbbt to that!

why i am writing this i do not know, but i got my hair cut. i am not muchos happy. i would shave it off to spite the world, Eville Hairdressers and yes, myself but fortunately, my family has the sanity to keep sharp pointy hair-altering instruments away from me when i am in a stroppy mood.

aha now i remember why i mentioned this in the first place.

Once upon a time, a silly girl with hair that she was impatient and sick with went to the hairdressers. She went in with half amoosement because the tacky counter lady kept speaking to her in chinese despite the fact that she had repeatedly and tiredly pointed to herself and said malairen [or however you spell it]. then, Lady in horrid black spandex hybrid outfit asks her to wait for half an hour and, so with much stupidty, she does.

time passes and she finally is escorted on to the faux leather seat and is handed a stack of magazines full of photos of doe-eyed japanese 'cute' things/sultry caucasian women. but tis all right, this happens everywhere.

the Scissors-Weilding One appears, and yes, again speaks to her in chinese. she asks her to converse in malay and well, she can't speak malay that much better chinese and does not trust her linguistic skills in this particular languange to handle such a delicate task as Instructions for the Haircut.

the girl calls over her conveniently chinese best friend and entasks her with the very important role of translator. things ought to be fine, no?

absolutely not.

now we have an impatient hairdresser rattling of chinese hieroglyphics, tugging my hair, complaining about how i canNOT cut my hair that way, talking over my head [and i uber HATE this] infuriated because she obviously thinks that they are stupid and should listen to HER because well, look at her hair.

thing is, if i wanted a helmet-headed fringe thing, i would not have bothered. i would have simply simpered up to the principal ie. Herr Hitler and ask her for her hairdresser. no doubt i would have to descend to the the seven levels of hell to get my hair done by her's but pffft

i am digressing.

and as a parting shot before she lfet to blowdry somebody else's hair, she sighs and says, you should go rebond your hair. it would be much nicer then.

so in a huff, i left. if i had stayed, i might have just broken my record for levele of stupidity and patience and honestly, i am not sure which one would have been more awe-inspiring.

so we trooped of to another salon. their nicer to me, and the shampoo girl was nice and chatty without being overly and disturbingly intrusive so that my Social Recluse walls will go up. but ah yes, still, later on, the bloody hairdresser tells me [exact words here], oh you have natural wave. you should go rebond your hair. it will be much nicer then.

oh hey man, thanks a whole friggin lot. in a span of an hour of so, i have been told that my hair texture of all things is a considerably imperfect characteristic and that in the name of pantyhose, i should conform and join the rebonded hair troupe because you bet your gumballs, that is the only nice kind of hair there is!

fucked up narrow-minded people.

next thing you know, i'll start listening to SHE and 5566 and watch trashy Taiwanese variety shows [variety cuz they for hell can't make up their mind what they want] and hey, to make sure i don't ignore my malay ethnicity, i'll transmorgify into a full blown Minah. huh huh? i will track down the Source of all Tapered Pants and subject my ears to the torment of trashy music they call mainstream hip-hop.

pbbbbt!!!!!!

look, i am back safely from the chalet.

the first half was okay i suppose, a semblance of fun that we used to have. what brought it was actually a literal regression of our childhood; we went to the playroom on the pretence of baby-sitting the little ones but oh oh the ball pit was just to tempting. so in we went laughing feeling like we're 10 again and i think hey, maybe it'll be fine after all.

sadly, the next day was near disasterous i think. ah well. if it helps, i somehow managed to take a 5 hour nap! something quite impossible at home with mother who just hates to see me stumbling off to SlumberLand, the selfish woman that she is hurhur.

meanwhile, i am in a general state of un-mirthfulness because of:
a. the impending Exams.
b. the prospect of coming up with decent choreography and making sure they all will be able to 'dance' by next um, tuesday.
c. the monstrosity that singapore idol was.

you know what i want to know?

which strings were pulled or who slept with who so that the bloody radio producer woman was made judge. pfft! pathetic. you were awful..awfully good.

*CRINGE*

it's not that the other judges didn't sound painfully scripted as well but shit, the person who wrote that line should be condemned to an eternity of watching reruns of Living With Lydia, Daddy's Girls or hahaha VR Man.

yeah. that would teach the bugger.
its just that there is something seriously wrong when i'd rather watch spongebob. although i would not be quite sure which to pick if it was CatDog. painfully lame vs. painful?

i was arguing with my father dearest who was in his usual style, defending singapore's incompetency which somehow lead to the topic of he-who-will-be-hung and the media people guilty of leading him into the life of a a media clown. the manipulation that the Eville Creatures took part and it would be very much amusing and not so disturbing to visualise them wearing dark hooded cloaks of heavy black cotton around a fire of a worrying shade of emerald plotting Schemes for World Domination.

and i want to take mass communications?

i am not quite sure whether i want to join this cult or not. first off, hoods are like, total no-nos for hair and geez, who can look good in that shapeless sack of a thing?
haha.
NOT.

the thing is, i definitely forsee compromising of principles and manipulating needed to succeed in the media, whether tv or press. and i don't want to do that.

maybe i'll become a kindergarten teacher. but then again, my short return to the ball pit has reminded me that some kids, like the people belonging to the media cult are just born EVILLE. some kids are just frocking assholes! and see, if they were kids my age, i would have hurled scathing sarcasm or at the least, good ol' profanities and vulgarities. but no, can't do that because of watching (and ironically, oblivious) parents. my restraint was leading to an increase of volume for the voice in my head. it was telling me to kill the nasty little bugger! i honestly felt compelled to sit on him, pin him down and stuff the bloody balls down his trachea. better still, stuff it up his head where there is an obvious cavity.

i hope that kid will grow up fat and ugly and miserable and unloved (easily done).

hence and therefore, i do not have the patience to handle these hell minions and cannot be a kindergarten teacher lest i end up in jail for first degree murder of an underaged youth.

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

yesterday's national day did not [surprise surprise] leave me bursting with patriotic spirit or tearing at the sound of our national anthem. i am proud to say that yes, the latter has happened to me before! oh oh i was standing watching the flag being pulled up the rusty pole and hey, whaddya know? a dust particle decided to take a tour of my eyeball. the goodness of foreign intervention to leave one all patriotic.

doesn't count because it was caused by an external factor? you saying that *gasp* i am NOT patriotic?

well, there was that time i yawned and gee, i weeped! so there.
*snerk*

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

ah yes. i've wanted to rant on this for quite sometime.

Supposedly Singapore's [or asia?] Best Blog.

this blogger has been featured repeatedly in the newspapers. recently, in the New Paper i think. if this be true, it is quite expected seeing what is published in Singapore's No. 1 [and ONLY doofus!] Tabloid. If i am mistaken, and it happens to have been in the Straits Times, i am seriously doubting the judgement of the reporter then.

in your duty as a journalist, are you not supposed to be in search of truth and expose and condemn falsehood? *rolls eyes* i suppose someone is not doing his job then, because clearly, said blog is NOT the best in singapore and if said reporter [since that is all that he does - report] thinks that is our standard, well, shame shame SHAME ON YOU.

her's looks like it was written by a 7 year old compared to say, karen's. and no, *wags finger* i am NOT not liking it just because it's pink okaaay.

of course, i am not condemning the blogger. it's not her fault that others are amazingly competent at misjudging. the more disturbing underlying current here is that where has all our talent gone? we KNOW it's here. where art thou where art thou save us quick from the disaster that thy disappearance has condemned us to.

i have returned from my religious classes and if food for thought was literal, well, i'd be too stuffed to eat for the next few days.

the most important thing to note is that I DO NOT LIKE GOING. i wake up in the morning, all draggy feet and intentionally cold showered. then i spend the travelling time unintentionally thinking/wishing for things to crop up so that omg, i don't have to go!

today's Fantasy struck me into a fit of guilt. my mum was driving me and we were going through a junction where this old ah pek was crossing the road when the man turned red [the traffic light, not the old guy] and my mum waved at him to encourage him you can do it! cross the road we believe in you!

i digress.

the thing is, when my mum did so, my brain threw itself into fantasizing what if we had knocked him down, or someone else did? then oh dear, we'd have all this drama and have to send him to the hospital then oh NO i wouldn't have been able to go to class..seriously, i was SO in it i was thinking of us crouching beside him and rushing to the hospital not caring about the blood stains on the seats

and primarily, so i could get out of going. it hit me then.
oh geez, my over-active imagination is a terrible monster. a few minutes later i confessed to my mother what had went through my mind and we had a good laugh, but nonetheless the underlying current is terribly disturbing =
but today's class was different.

i'm not really a deep-in-faith kid of person. i've always thought that religion and your relantionship with god is sacred and therefore, a private thing. hence, not something to be publicized on the internet. but, i will be slightly hypocritical and say that i think today's Difference had something to do with well, god.

the teacher that i loathe did not come today. instead was this sub who was really nice she gave us this non-peppy pep talk that left me thinking. it was disconcertingly uncanny because she said stuff that i was just grumbling to myself about 15 minutes ago.

cut: yesterday, my mum out of nowhere said that hey, maybe with your O's and everything, we could stop your classes for awhile. which is amazing because i've been tryng to get her to do that for eons and trust me, that equals to a hell lot of whining. and there she goes, without any prompting.

so now, considering all the unmentioned factors, i'm starting to think i shouldn't take up my mum's offer and stop the classes. it's only 3 hours a week and it isn't much. and it's my fault that i don't give a shit.

i don't know.

to be honest, i just finished my tuition and the fervour that i started with writing this entry has left. probably dissipated into all the trigo questions.

*sighs* here's another dead-end.

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

in a few hours, i'll be in a chalet with all my relatives on my fathers's side at pasir ris.

whee yay whoopidoo!

not.

it's annoying times like this that i suddenly go all panic-eyed Social Recluse. with a huge sense of dread, i know it'll be an intense painfully prolonged period of awkwardity and toilets too small to cope with that large an influx of people without going into a state of ickiness.

yay prodding questions from aunts over my academic results and even worse, love life and BOTH are embarassingly lacking.

yay sitting around with cousins i don't know what to say too so we'll all condemn each other to a loong period of silence and cries of help to other friends via that wonderful invention, handphones.

yay the possibility that they'll all be fine and i'll just condemn myself to being alone, serving only to pique the curiosity of my aunts who will then broaden their Question Topics to include what are you doing? and how come you're by yourself?

oh yeah. cheers all!

i am in pain.
i feel so tired fatigued
i ache
hurts so bad everytime i move
i never knew i could hurt this way




hurhur nope not TeenAngst. i'm being literal this time =]
remind me to make sure everybody stretches next time before we practice for the concert. *winces* it feels like i'be done too many sit-ups and *gasp* my not-so-existent biceps are whining as well!

i blame it on all the dips we were doing. but oh oh its so funnnn. buble in the air and us twirling and dipping. i would love to learn swing dance professionally.

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

i've noted a certain decrease of quality in my entries recently =\

ah well, not many musings when life starts to revolve around the O's. sorry all! i vow to do something remotely interesting like maybe kidnap a giraffe and ride it down orchard road and scream out hah! hah! i am tall!! bugger you little people!

hello all.

i have started wondering whether i was a Snob. and as much as i hate to admit it, i think there's a significant smudge of it. isn't it snobbery that i drip disdain whenever i talk about mats/minahs/bengs/lians? apart from their truly ludricous characteristics, i suppose they might not actually be so bad right? =
i feel the weight of my karma. it's true, i kinda do diss partly because its just oh-so-Fun. maybe i've been wrong all along?

*recalls ugly incidents involving hostile minahs*

pfft, Naaaaah.

huh, see this is why we'll never attain the beauty pageant ideal - world peace. despite it all, our favourite way of working is still an eye for an eye and hell, we don't really care if we end up blind!

i was watching tv with my mudder and this Mango ad came on, so i was waaaah, i wish i was gorgey like Her! and she patted my head and said, it's okaaay, you're gorgeous inside.

[i think all mothers are programmed to say cliched stuff like that but this not the point of matter here -]

the thing is, i'm NOT gorgeous inside. how can i or anyone say that? certainly and especially not me, thinking back on how i cackled when i found out my two disliked persons -jamie yeo + tata young- were appearing on tv together and were supposed to hate each other. petty bitchiness like that, how imbecilic *snerk*

but anyway my point is, um. we're imperfect. woohoo what an epiphany.

bugger it, i hate it when i launch myself into these bush-beating discourses and end up with a conclusion that i've known all along
: i should have better things to do. like study.

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

speaking of which, a funny Event in school today!

while lining up to buy what they call 'healthy' food, we saw a friend who for some reason was dressed completely geek-O! we asked her why, and she said she just felt like it. so hurhur we thought oh whot fun! let's have a Geekazoid Revolution! and so, we tucked in our shirts aaaall the way so our skirt bands can be seen [just like dahling mrs. ee wants] and pushed down our glasses to the tips of our noses and started our geek laugh

hur-hur-hur-hyok-hur-hyok-hur-hur.

and we pranced around amid horrified stares and dropped jaws. oh what fun attention-seeking is! later on, we came upon our buddy-teacher and stood in a row of 5 and bowed deeply to her like all teachers crave causing us to erupt in peals of laughter. almost hysterical, we went up the staircase only to find the DM glaring at us, searching for something Wrong with us so that he can give is detention but nooo, he could not do abything despite the ruckus we were making because well, we were specifically following the school rules!

*chortles madly* i love it.

note: we have three teachers who pick on our uniform law-breaking. we have mr. osgodby who is fixated on our 'missing' ie. ankle socks.
mrs. ee [assholic pe nightmare in dreadful track suits and boobs+bum that have surrendered completely to gravity]. she specializes in catching us for 'untucked' shirts and um, coloured bras. the thing we hate about her is that if our shirt looks untucked, she tugs it until it becomes UNtucked and the she'll hurl us to Herr Hitler who is another case entirely!
and there's good ole' tiger, who basically does everything else but we like him anyway cuz he's actually a Nice Guy and is only doing his job because og Herr Hitler [whom he hates too]. unlike the sagEE one, they don's victimise and pick on us =]

i did a very Teenager thing yesterday.

i told my mum i was going out to study, and went to a gig instead. oh oh the GUILT! but maaan, if i hadn't gone, i would have so missed out and was it worth it? absolutely. *sighs* what a dilemma.

standing right in front of the amplifiers and you could just feel the reverbrations in your throat heart belly jeans it was just woah. i wonder whether i looked stupid bobbing swaying and 'head-banging', i probably did. ah well.

the field was all muddy and i was wearing sandals. it was a bit gross at first but i ended up actually liking the slick squishiness of the mud in between the toes. splish splosh splishy splishy splosh.

it was a great place to people-watch. people who were the epitomy of Cool [aaah! i am going to get white/cream hair extentions after the Os] and erlack, we saw this skanky girl. micro skirt, tiny top and stilettos.

anyway the music was awesome. kinda The Vines-ish, a bit of Switchfoot and i hereby pledge my allegience to local bands! it makes me furious thinking of how they're not getting the credit they deserve when manufactured things like tata young [yes i still very much cant stand her] are painfully being broadcasted through all forms of the media. it is simply unfair.
we came while Gloria were playing and afterwards was Sky of Euphoria which was a bit too screamo for my liking and after that was Vertical Rush who were just jaw-dropping.

and not only because of their music.

the lead singer was singing this song he wrote for his girlfriend who was in the crowd and then he paused and asked her to come up on stage. his voice was cracking and he was tearing, he said, "i am just so happy.". there was this tension in the air and nadya and i felt something bubbling under but i thought naah it can't be. it's too perfect for reality but he did.

he went down on his knee and proposed to her.
it was so sweet i nearly died of diabetes. =]

the next band was from KL, Her Reverie and it was uncanny because their sound was this really mellow and sublime..it just fit the mood perfectly. closed eyes, atmosphere bathed in their music and pure happiness for two strangers.

and there was this Beautiful guy. he was, you know. i was actually struck by his profile, deep-set eyes a beautiful nose and this long lopsided grin. i could have just drawn him right there and then. he was this tanned caucasian guy but with a taint of roman-italian facial structure. dark mahogany hair that looked so soft and silky that if he was a girl, he would have his own shampoo ad.

he was beautiful.

but ah well, he didn't seem to have a crazy or quirky personality. he was rather..subdued during the whole thing. haha he was looking our way once, i think he was looking at shi han who's really pretty with great legas and she was wearing this shorT skirt *smirks*

typically, they were like go get his number laah just for the heck of it! but again, typically, i didn't. and i shall explain you why other than the more obvious are you nuts?? i'm not THAT sad!

my theory
we have a population that we can categorize and in this case, we'll use supermarkets.

the low-lifers are found at ECONMinimart and the little shops you get at the void decks. and there are those who belong to the higher-end supermarkets that i don't bother remembering their names for. the minimum will be like, Liberty and Cold Storage.
and the rest of us, we're NTUC hurhur.

Beautiful Guy was on the shelves of unnamed branded supermarket *nods*