I suppose three consecutive meme-only entries is quite sad, so in response to being vaguely prodded by various people for this shameful behaviour, I shall blog properly and not rely on memes that are in a way, the instant brownie mix for blog entries.

But I love instant brownie mix, and am guilty on relying on them for a quick chocolate fix. And besides, performing the miracle of adding water, oil and eggs, and popping it into the oven is such an easy way of making people happy that I just succumb. The thing is, I don’t quite understand baking. I can cook, and cook rather well – it’s more instinctive but baking!

Everytime I’ve tried baking, and have tried enough times to be able to say that I have tried, it’s been an almost-disaster and the fact that the end-product rather falls short of AMAZING just annoys me.

Like this one time out of boredom and poor mathematical skills, I baked cookies but had to reconfigure the measurements with no help from Internet conversion tables. I ended up with a disproportionately monumental amount of batter, too many cookies that took nearly more than a month to consume (and throw) and batter remnants up the mixer.

And so, I would like to extend a thank you to the fictional Betty Crocker. (Because did you know, the character was created to make the brand more friendly to the housewife consumer group. Marketing works wonders, it does.)


In the course of a conversation with a friend I have not been able to talk to properly in a long time, I, or we, realized that the problem with me is that I think people will behave the way I do and the reason for this is that my brain thinks it to be the logical thing.

What if that happens? Why wouldn’t it, that’s what I would or think I would do!

And therein lies the crux of all my paranoia. A major case in point here would be when social insecurity hits, primarily when I feel as if I have been left out. Now, in all clarity of thought, I do eventually realize that a) its usually unintentional, and b) I probably imagined the whole thing anyhow!

The reason why I get so paranoid that people (who matter a lot to me) are drifting away, and perhaps, don’t care for me as much as I do for them is because the truth is, I am guilty of this. On the ridiculous basis that because I somehow can and have easily distance and detach myself from friends, others can and will too. That suddenly we’re not so close anymore, and you won’t mind – because as cruel as it may be, I’m like that, too often when a friendship starts drifting.

It’s definitely not nice, and I do feel guilty at times but that doesn’t negate the fact that it comes easily for me. So people who have been my friends, and still are my friends for these past few years – inner circle people, inner circle.

And the terrible irony is that it would kill me if you do to me what I’ve been consistently doing all this while.

I don’t even know why I’m telling everybody this. Exhibitionism is a masochistic thing – it’s as if I want you to know how ugly I am. Not because I want you to by reflex, deny my convictions; I don’t think assurance from people is what I’m looking for. It’s crazy but I think I just want you to know: look, I’m a horrible person. It’s not because I’m proud of it, which is a disturbing and discomforting thought because it’s too alike to attention-seeking teeniegoths displaying their penknife scratches.

I’m dissecting myself in front of you because I want you to know me.
isn't it why you read this blog, after all?

because i've been tagged, and really memes are very good blog-fillers when you don't quite have much to say but need to wipe the dust of your blog

Five Weird/Random Things About Izyanti Asaari.

1) I have gone through many different phases. i have been goth, some-what punk and preppy. And before random people start flaming me for being a poser, let me just state that (i) at that point of time when i was in that phase, i really did feel it. then, i grew out of it and moved on. deal with it. (ii) it's just FASHION, god. you dress to suit your mood, which is why i occasionally still do dress up likewise. (iii) besides, i look good. so there.

2) christmas is a time where i make things for people. post-christmas is a time where many projects lie around in my room incomplete: half-painted, half-sewn, half-assembled. why do i feel this year is going to be the same?

3) i have an attention span of a chipmunk (see above) and the fact that i think i can do anything (weird really, considering that i fail a lot too) doesn't help this because the moment something gets kinda iffy, and i get bored, i moooove on because i think the next project is way more interesting and that i would definitely pwnz that. leaving behind me a trail of half-finished projects.

4) i am only completely and thoroughly comfortable being group leader even if it is hectic and chaotic and i want to die, because at least i'm in control instead of under (or waiting for) the instruction of others.

this is also the reason why i am wont to get in trouble with Disciplinarian Figures Of Authority, especially when they're incompetent because i'm way too busy thinking of how i'd do a better job than them to be respecting their Authority - and what do you mean she can suspend me when she's so (note: this is relative, of course) incompetent!

i don't mind being a worker, and sometimes its a relief and quite fun knowing that the complete ruination of a project is not on your shoulder, but i function better on top *cough*

5) i don't like giant big group outings, and i think going out with friends in groups of more than 5 people borders on useless, especially when it simply means taking an extensively long time to decide on something moronically simple like Where To Eat. this also means that i suspect that given power, i might be a closet tyrant/control freak quite akin to good old LKY. but i bet you guys know that already. *beams*

Seven Defining Songs*

1. As long as that's true; Skin
2. Everything will be all right; The Killers
3. Not for all the love in the world; The Thrills
4. Maybe tomorrow; Stereophonics
5. Stay; Lisa Loeb
6. Lately; Stevie Wonder
7. The second part; The Dears.

*at this current point of time, of course

a long long time ago, hazri told me about the You Are Beautiful movement (see: http://www.livejournal.com/community/arebeautiful), and i finally visited the site today and yes it is very sweet and the wheels in my head are already spinning madly for ideas.

but it just made me realize - its odd how we feel the need to be told that we are beautiful. it doesn't even matter whether i'm talking about being physically beautiful or politically correct inner beauty because the point here is that more often than not, being told that people accept you, and in a sense, love you, is something that humans always seek.

now that i've put it in terms of love and acceptance, it does seem like a rather 'duh' situation but i still think its strange how we're almost engineered to need the acceptance from others to make us feel good about ourselves.

because i feel like it (condensed from jeanie)

What did you do the last time you were in school?
i kicked pw to the curb with finally getting OP over and done with! i think its kinda cool that nationwide, all jc students recognize the forementioned acronyms with much drear drudgery, but NO MORE HURRAH.

Who was the last who sent you an sms?
My primary school friend who's rather sad because she thinks that we won't go out for hari raya this year. that would be a...5 year tradition finally being broken.

Are you good in your studies?
I think i am, the examiners apparently think otherwise.

Who was the last who said "Love You"?
Hm. Actually, charmaine who said she loved me bestest after i passed her my mum's pineapple tarts. She's very easily bribed, that girl, and it would be completely shameful save for the fact that the reason why we are besties is because I AM EASILY BRIBED TOO. hurhur.

What do you call yourself?
Eville Overlord of the Mystic Realm of the Dusty Curtains. actually, despite the more popular(?) variation of my name that i go by with, in the moments that i am uh, talking to myself, i call myself yanti.

What song are you listening to now?
In my head, right now, Do You Wanna by franz ferdinand. and yes, just hey do ya, do ya do ya wanna hey do ya, do ya do ya wannahey do ya, do ya do ya wannahey do ya, do ya do ya wannahey do ya, do ya do ya wanna NEED TO GET FULL LYRICS NOW.

Are you in trouble?
Considering that i have NOT finished reading the THREE chapter long Heart of Darkness, - yes, it's that tough to get through - maybe.

Have you been HeartBroken before?
hehe. why the caps? oddly, i don't think so, no.

How many As do i think i can get?
Three please! somehow i will wrangle As for art, lit and gp. yes, i do take econs.

Missing Someone?
yes.

What day is today?
Sunday going on Monday..in 4 minutes

Do kids love me?
Sometimes. Sometimes they hate me and don't want to play with me and i feel so horrible it's like kindergarten all over again.

Are you Caring, Loving and Tender?
hehe caps again! yes, but now you're making me feel like an overemotional slab of steak.

but i love being organized!

i've already thought about it and in my future place, i would separate my laundry according to dark, light, colour and to-be-handwashed not before it gets thrown in the laundry, but in the beginning baskets! i'm thinking four rattan baskets with lids arranged perfectly outside the toilets. such anal organization! i smile just thinking about it!

it's like how right now, the certain section of my wardrobe where you hang clothes is all hung according to colour. and no, this isn't just blue goes there, red goes there etc etc, but shade and nuances of colour are noted so it all blends from one colour into another and oh oh it is just brilliant.

its like how my t-shirts are arranged from white to gray and with much dismay, i had to jump to navy blue and then dark grey and finally black. and in the corner would be my bright yellow spongebob tee because i didn't know where to put it.

and the pens on my desk are in two canisters, colour then black&greyscale.

and the most enjoyable part of studying for me is getting all my notes in one big ring folder and then categorizing it with plastic sticky tabs and post-it notes. it is just so lovely to look at.

and in the daily planner that the school gave/sold us, i mark each day i meet up with a certain group of people with a different sticker. (the EBS is a ladybug.) realllly good days are marked with assorted puffy stickers of vintage vehicles.

if i couldn't draw, i'd be writing a lot more bad prose and even worse poetry.

i'm rather proud of these:







oh my lovely converse sneakers bought in malaysia at a steal.

here's the pitch - see, i'm getting rather broke nowadays what with all the funding art materials need as well as saving up for overseas ed. you've seen my work, and i think it's pretty decent and hey, i WANT to draw on your shoes if you'd like me to. for a nominal sum, though.

HENCE AND THEREFORE, prod me through the usual avenues and save me!

i feel so freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

so this is what it feels like, not having anymore PW to be troubled with. even the air smells fresher.

actually, today's presentation was a control freak's nightmare, because something DID go wrong, and it was something that was beyond this freak's control. the speakers in the classroom did not work.

but we got over that, in about half an hour of staring at our toes, fiddling with our cue cards after giving up on twiddling with the wires and switches ourselves, and waiting for the chief technician, otherwise known to me and zara as The Administrator, to do his magic. not smooth sailing, but it went well enough.

you know how when you use school computers, and sometimes you want to do things like i don't know, illegal porn downloading programmes, this annoying pop-up comes up and reminds you that you are not the Administrator and therefore, should not have the audacity to feign such authority? yes well, zara and i once came up with this paranoid conspiracy theory about the truth of the Administrator's existence and to cut the story short, it went along with the plotline of the Matrix. but it's interesting isn't it, that at times, people yield to authority because we GIVE them the authority to exert that authority over us.

at least, that's how i see power as.

now that i am rather chatty, i think i'll give a full length reply to mel's tag in response to my art = comparatively trivial comment. i had a feeling that statement would illicit a response from her.

so here goes:

i admit that saying what i did, without justification (rather odd that i automatically feel the need to do this) - it was a strong statement i made. if i read it myself, on someone else's blog, i would feel a twinge too.

but you know, i still stand by what i said.

art by itself, is not trivial, and obviously, anyone who has the notion that the arts is a rather unneccesary aspect of life is for lack of finer terminology, an idiot.

the reason why i think that it at times pales in comparison to medicine is for the fact that doctors well, save lives. and that ability i feel subconsciously creates a link to our inner psyche that it is an ability that is god-like. the thing is i suppose, humans will unfailingly connect more immediately with the physical, the tangible - and life (or the absence of it) is rather tangible, and the mere fact that a doctor is able to do something that is semblance of what god can, is pretty amazing.

literature can be brilliant, and visual art..well, there's a reason why its in image form because the way good art can move you is almost undefinable in words. i think the arts enhances life and gives us that crucial connection with our emotional selves. but still, without a heartbeat, what's the point of being in touch with your heart?

(we can still argue on this if you want mel! or maybe after your As, hm.)

[end]

so that's that. i just watched 3-Iron with my dad's awesome sennheiser headphones (note to self, must watch eternal sunshine, yes again, with said headphones). my home's sound system never sounded so good!

anyway, i just wanted to say that we COULD have watched it without subtitles the last time janice's DVD remote control apparently refused to co-operate because guess what? THE MOVIE HAS HARDLY ANY DIALOGUE.

which is not a flaw in itself, but you know, just pointing it out. it WAS a good movie and perhaps, occupies its own spot in my mental shelf of Brilliant Love-centered Movies To Note. if moulin rouge was tragic, and eternal sunshine terribly poignant, 3-Iron would be enigmatic.

its the very silence of the protagonists that draws this tension, kind of like a guitar string being tightened and maybe my only half-whinge is that at times, it gets a bit tiresome waiting for that string to be finally plucked, and when it finally is, you're not that quite sure because it wasn't as mind-assailing as all that anticipation had lead you to believe.

that was a very long sentence.

because there was hardly any dialogue, its a given that they were very challenging roles for the actors (i can't remember korean names =\), and though i think the acting was very good in general, especially the actress who currently plays the japanese woman in Lost, it did have the tendency to have some moments that didn't quite ring through. the guy especially in his crazed moments at the end, and i don't fault him that he was not able to exactly pin-point what his character ought to be because that character is mystery personified, so how do you define something that is meant to be undefinable?

its a movie that did manage to capture an enigmatic atmosphere - when you're not completely sure why things are happening, but in a good way unlike an incredibly bad movie like Creep where i was too busy thinking 'wtf?' to be scared by the zombie-like apparition.

it was that it felt like a dream, and it being practically without speech very much contributed to this. you know how in dreams its not actual words that are spoken but just what i imagine to be a linear stream of emotions as dialogue? yes, that. and alike to dreams, you are just compelled to watch it because in its silence, you're in it.

everybody's falling ill,

my grandma's in the hospital with some odd fever of unknown cause that refuses to go away, and both my sister and brother have pretty high temperatures too.

i am officially Florence Nightingale until my dad comes home from work in a few hours. its one thing to fall ill yourself, but pretty scary watching everybody else being attacked by foreign pathogens. and rather scary too, when their depending on you to take care of them - not so for the siblings, cos that's probably just the common flu. but when it came to my grandma, when the other day it was just me and my mum with her, and she was really frail and my mum had to leave the room to get something, i was actually for a moment caught in this fear that something would happen, and oh god its only me in the room WHAT WOULD I DO.

and then i figured that i was the oldest kid in the family, so in the future, when a similar situation were to happen, i'd have to be the responsible one and i don't even know anything about hospital admission, or bills or Medisave/Medishield (yes, i know we learnt about it in social studies, but that is not the point!)

i hope i won't screw up.

then the other day, i accompanied my mum to the hospital, when they just sent my grandma there and seeing all the well-meaning but rather blur (it was 3am), i kinda realized: just what the hell am i doing?

a GRAPHIC DESIGNER/ILLUSTRATOR?

just how in the world is that going to contribute to society, apart from making things aesthetically-pleasing, which when people are DYING, means nothing at all. so, i'm going to have to do something about that aspect, yes. i mean, i've thought about it before, in the hypothetical situation of scholarship interviews, and they ask 'how do you feel, can you contribute to society?'

and i would and still, draw a blank. it would, i suppose, help develop the growth of the design/art/culture environment in sterilesingapore, which is somewhat important, but relatively trivial in comparison.

so, i'm proud of you gennie the Future Doctor. i didn't use to really understand your sudden switch in careerpath, but i think now i do =)



my sister just yelled from upstairs for three ice-cubes, so i suppose she must be feeling better.

so, capital punishment huh.

isn't it just a little odd that the only time singapore's judicial system is thrown into the limelight is when it is being put into action against a non-singaporean. it's as if we deem it perfectly fine for our government to prosecute and execute its own citizen, but start to question the justification of our laws when it is applied to others.

i think that the case of australian drug trafficker being prosecuted here, and the case for the abolishment of capital punishment are rather different issues actually.

do i protest sole execution of the viet-australian? no. because as sad as his story may be, my stance stands firm that he made an informed choice when agreeing to carry the heroin knowing that singapore is well-known for being supremely cruel on matters like these. he made a calculated risk, and TOOK the risk and i would think it ridiculous not wanting to accept the consequences when you decided to risk it. so yes, on the basis that the law for capital punishment exists, and he knew about it, yes i think it logical (if cold) that he be prosecuted.

but whether the law should exist at all - now that's a different matter. ruling out capital punishment for murder cases (that's another barrel of fish), i do think that execution for drug trafficking is unjustifiably harsh based on the fact that the only evidence needed for prosecution is possesion. which, excuse me, is absolutely ridiculous since the likelihood of being wrongly charged with DEATH is incredibly high.

now, i'm not sure with singapore's judicial system, but my dad says that being prosecuted and convicted are two different things and that when it's a death penalty (how trivial, the word), they'll be uber-vigilant in ensuring that all reasonable doubt is cleared out but here's how i feel:

I DON'T KNOW. do you?

how many drug trafficking cases do you keep track off, and we don't actually KNOW whether they have some shred of mercy to check and fight for or whether they just shove you under that ugly label of being a drug trafficker because seriously, who in singapore's brilliant efficient beauracracy is willing to spare the effort and fight against the flow of efficiency? i'm more than willing to be proved wrong, but right now, i'm inclined to think that a system so clinical and thoroughly merciless, does not have the time to make sure that its right.

i know that seems like a dubious paradox and gosh, i hope i'm wrong.

capital punishment for drug trafficking is unjustifiably harsh - he doesn't really need to die. i understand that singapore has to take all effort in ensuring that we don't become a central trafficking port because of our oh-so-convenient geographical location but unlike murder where the shady, but existing logic of retributive penalties stands, the death penalty for trafficking seems like over-reacting. which, isn't too far from how singaporeans usually behave.

it could be argued, logically, that the drug trafficker does kill and ruin more lives than the one murder, but gosh, why not prosecute all the tobbaco companies then? they've killed a lot more people via lung cancer AND they get paid for it too. i think i'm going off-tangent -

[tangent]
should tobbaco companies be prosecuted! under the logic that in most countries, cannabis heroin marijuana is illegal, i don't see why not but hey, they're still standing making bajillions and bajillions of money out of people slowly killing themselves and others around them. the world is just odd, i'll give you all a call once i figure it out - don't hold your breath though.

so taking drugs is bad, smoking is bad, but so's refined sugar!

(i did a project on refined sugar in secondary four, and yeah it just kills your liver.)

[end tangent]

wait, lemme just take a sip of my coke.

now where was i?

Mr. Nguyen i think, has to accept the death sentence. that is the cold truth in this situation, and you know, the agenda behind the australian government's protest is that somebody in there, wants to put singapore in the humanitarian hot seat. a government, rather notorious for being racist, defending a vietnamese immigrant for a crime he is in most certainty guilty off? maybe it IS time that we be given this seat, but do i have a feeling nothings going to change.

but on a whole, and not based on his case, capital punishment for trafficking needs to be reviewed. after all, rapists are let loose back into society after a few years.

sungguh menakjubkan!

ya, saya sedang menulis dalam bahasa melayu dan sebab perkara yang sangat ajaib dan juga lucu ini adalah kerana esok adalah peperiksaan bahasa melayu saya. saya telah menghafalkan berbelas-belas peribahasa dan kini, sedang berbual dengan yasmin si lelaman MSN juga dalam bahasa melayu - sungguh lucu!

kami telah mereka beberapa frasa baru untuk buat demikian, yaitu:
KDK - ketawa dengan kuat
KSBAL - ketawa sambil bergolek atas lantai.
ANI - apa neraka ini

saya kini sedang berasa agak sedih. ramai kawan-kawan saya menghadapi supp paper, atau akan ditendang keluar sekolah. terutama sekali mereka dalam kelas melayu saya. hampir setengah menghadapi situasi tersebut. sesungguhnya, =(

pada awak tahun ini, saya tidak sangka kita akan menjadi kawan kerabat, tetapi jika perkara yang buruk akhirnya berlaku, saya akan merindu mereka. perkara seharian, seperti bergelak di dalam kelas dengan cikgu hanisah, atau dengan solikin yang sangat pandai dalam bahasa, ataupun pada hari Racial Harmony apabila yasmin dan hafiz dikahwinkan - sungguh meriah! terutama sekali, kumpulan Slut Posse: Yasmin, Ili, Jennifer dan saya. bersama, kita bercadang untuk mengambil tindakan terhadap seseorang lelaki yang amat comel tetapi sedihnya, kita tidak pernah diberi peluang untuk melakukannya. sesungguhnya, kita memang lembu dogol (orang yang penakut dan hanya cakap banyak sahaja). tetapi, tidak apa-apa! =)



A ROUGH TRANSLATION FOR THE ODD INCIDENT THAT IS THE ENTRY IN MALAY:

how strange!

yes, i am writing in malay and the reason for this strange and funny thing is that it is in preperation for my malay exams tomorrow. i have memorized tens of proverbs, and am now conversing with yasmin on MSN in malay! it is very funny!

we have come up with several new phrases to do so, and they are:
KDK - ketawa dengan kuat/LOL - laugh out loud
KSBAL - ketawa sambil bergolek atas lantai/ ROFL - rolling on the floor laughing
ANI - apa neraka ini/WTH - what the hell

i feel quite sad. a good number of my friends are facing supp papers or worse, being kicked out of school. especially friends from my malay class. almost half of them are facing this situation. it is truly =(

this year, i never expected us to become such god friends and if the unfortunate was to happen, i'll miss them a hell lot. the daily things, like joking in class with cikgu hanisah, or solikin who is SO GOOD in malay he makes us look horrible, and racial harmony day when hafiz and yasmin got married - such fun! and especially our Slut Posse (started when i apparently made a good impression of those coy pornstars in online popups - don't ask) comprising of Ili, Yasmin, Jennider and I. together, we conspired ploys concerning a certain cute guy (he is la!) but sadly, we never got the oppurtunity to materialize our ploys. we are such 'dogol' cows (cowards who only know how to talk big), but no matter! =)

END TRANSLATION.

so yeah, i realize only the handful of malay-comprehending people i know will be able to read the malay post.

first of all, I CAN'T STAND SEEING OVER-ACHIEVING PEOPLE.

i mean, really. so this kiddies, is the danger of random flipping through online journals because you never know when one single entry will hit you and make you feel so small and miserable like you would never believe. i'm not going to mention names, but geez this person is just - augh. they should have a warning label for entries like that man:

"Volatile. May cause temporary, but intense damage to your self-esteem. Stay away, you insecure things!"

it's just nuts. huge macadamias!

especially since i got my promo results all presented to me properly today on a piece of paper and i cannot honestly say there is one single grade that i'm proud of, which you know, is just shit. because a C for lit, although decent, was a complete FLUKE. its a C that i didn't deserve at all because all my other essays were complete shit, and it was only through one miraculous essay that was able to pull the rest up to a C-average.

this makes me very angry.

and obviously, i am under some extent of emotional duress because not only is my period 2 weeks early (sorry guys, but yeah its a pretty siginificant point), but i've been having a more continuous onslaught of the most weird-ass dreams! like the other day, i watched people hurtle themselves down from a collapsing construction crane and then yesterday, SERIOUSLY TOUCH WOOD, i dreamt my grandfather died and it was horrid how emotionally accurate it all was.

and then today, in class, my thumb started twitching for a whole fuhreaking minute. i just sat there, staring at my twitching thumb.

god, i am in such a mess.

but let's focus on the good things in life shall we? i just had a whole tube of cadbury milk chocolate. tomorrow, we're going to film our shortfilm for our OPW, and it all sounds very promising. we're trying to round up a team for this awesome shortfilm competition, and that's pretty cool too althought it might involve kidnapping SOME PEOPLE WHO ARE WAY TOO OCCUPIED BY DRAMA REHEARSALS. i've got a whole line-up of projects planned, and all i need to exceute them is some discipline and a bit of money. i'm doing okay in school, and i don't think people have rallied around to form a committee to throw rocks at me yet -

so yeah, all is fine and dandy. save for the odd physio and pyschological anomalies but otherwise: HURRAH!

"'m reading kazuo ishiguro's never let me go, but i think the freezing climate affected my reading speed cos i only got to page 51. it is quite all right - wait no, let's be honest - i don't think much of it at all. granted, i've only read the first few chapters but well, from what i have read, i haven't encountered any impressing poignancy, or strikingly beautifully crafted sentences. its all very ordinary."

well that's what i said a few days ago. i've read the whole thing now, so for the heck of it and indulging in the rare moments where it seems that i actually have nothing to do, let's have a brief review:

i won't be giving away any spoilers for those who intend to read the book save for the fact that this book, in terms of stylistics is very subtle, and this would include the plotline itself such that it would seem that the story goes nowhere, which is not very true at all.

the difference in tones, atmosphere and even the conveying of themes is done through shifting nuances, so if you're reading through this in a rush, it would seem like a whole 263 pages of a hazy dream that just leads the reader in circles, back and forth without anything concrete to say. i suppose it takes some getting used to, especially since for lit, i've been reading stuff like huxley where the plot complexity (wait - what plot?) is just so obvious its like whamming your head against the wall.

but after awhile, especially reading it in comfortably cold rainy days in bed like i did, you come to appreciate this haziness - that the plot and revelations unfold gently, such that you are not wholly aware of the acknowledgement of a development, but it kind of subtly builds its layers so that with every suggested truth, you go "oh yes, that."

so that, is the merit of ishiguro's writing - very clean and subtle. i wasn't bored though, which is something, even though it should be taken into consideration that a substantial part of my reading was simply because i wanted to know what was the big deal about this writer. the only time that i dazed off in the middle of this book was when i caught myself daydreaming (i was in bed under a soft blanket at this point hurrah), and not being able to remember when exactly i had started to drift off, or whether or not i had closed my eyes at all.

at the same time though, i don't think it was a brilliant, life-changing book but i suppose that's quite a lot to live up to. no moments of poignancy or beautifully crafted prose that jumped up at me (save for an achingly touching anecdote about Norfolk - look out for that), but i suppose it's congruent to the writing style. it is very nice in every sense of the word, and a good book to pick up when you have the time and are in the drifty mood.




oh and by the way, this is post number THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY. cheers and fireworks everyone; if you can spare the time, actually do have something to say, and don't mind bolstering my esteem, then leave a tag about how this blog, (cue: dramatically cheesy voice) has changed your life.

though i highly doubt it, but eh, why not give it a shot.

for the first time in my life today, i was late for school. (how exciting)

it amazes me actually, this record that has only since been broken, considering that i am usually late for everything else. i suppose its because more often than not, if i find myself in a situation where it is likely that i will be late for school, i opt for not turning up at all!

its a very convenient ploy that half my class employed today.

so for the first time too, i officially was given detention. that's a but odd, you ask, since you say that you used to get into much trouble in secondary school. well, true that - but you see, BP has no official system of detention.

when you get into trouble, the DM will snarl at you to see him after school, so you do. in doing so, you actually wait around an hour or two waiting for him to turn up, and when he finally does, he snarls at you to get lost, that you are a waste of his time or what are you doing here, which is then your cue to take advantage of his frazzled state and downplay whatever grievious misdemeanour commited. then, you go home.

its an absolute waste of time. but if you DON'T see him, he somehow retains your absence, and then you're in deeper shit the next day. its quite odd really.

cj detention on the other hand, is actually quite fun. i spent it catching up with my friend, calling charmaine and matthew, scheduling a pw meeting, cursing the bloody school laptop and when i got bored, trooped of to siberia to read one of those hyped up books to find out whether it was worth all they said hype.

so, when the DM asked us later on, "what did you do during the two hours?" (apparently, i-did-some-form-of-study answers is the key to getting back your EZ-link card. hmm. i am such a detention noob), i feebly said that i read a lit book - which is true! just not the one assigned on our syllabus, that's all.

i'm reading kazuo's never let me go, but i think the freezing climate affected my reading speed cos i only got to page 51. it is quite all right - wait no, let's be honest - i don't think much of it at all. granted, i've only read the first few chapters but well, from what i have read, i haven't encountered any impressing poignancy, or strikingly beautifully crafted sentences. its all very ordinary.

and the thing of course, is that i usually do like things that revolve around the ordinary - that one of the beautiful aspects of literature is finding the catching, fleeting moments of brilliance in the ordinary.

i watched cold mountain with my brother and sister, and watching it, i'm assuming it is NOT pg because they were quite shaken by the violence brutality and moments of crass nudity. i wondered for awhile whether they should go on watching it, suggested that they stop which of course, was left unheeded; but i came to the conclusion that actually, i think its good that they did. it might do my sister some good to be aware of humanity's propensity for cruelty, and for my brother to know that war is so much more than the the tactical strategies for the computer games that he plays. good movies are just brilliant.

yesterday was the J2s graduation day, and somebody got thrown into the fish pond. i wonder how much he smelled afterwards. kinda ew, yes. to be honest, its something that i've always wanted to do, to be thrown/jump into a pod of some sort and the only thing that stops me is the thought of residual pond smell.

speaking of fishes!

if you thought that eating dinner (which may or may not include fish) in front of your fish tank like i do at home is darkly amusing, or cruel as steffi would find it, i have news:

so one of the fishes died, and we were supposed to remove it but i couldn't find the net and not feelin up to putting my whole arm into the tank, i put it off to another day.

the next day! i was walking past the tank when i thought i saw one of those 'i-can-see-its-skeleton!' fishes swimming at an odd angle and i was thinking oh dear, is it an epidemic of Mysterious Fishy Deaths like the last time? when i took a closer look, it was the half-eaten corpse of the dead fish.

I HAVE CANNIBAL GUPPIES.

they ate almost everything - all th guts, the tail and well, i suppose they left a bit of flesh - i suppose they got bored.

THIS IS A POST TO CELEBRATE MY 2000+ VISITOR!

for those who have not realized it, i have installed a web counter on this blog and well, i'm not going to beat around the bush, i had it installed two months back for purely egocentric reasons. oh come on now, don't look at me like that! we all know that a large portion of the appeal for keeping an online journal is having a readership, and fandom (pathetically limited or otherwise) is purely a vanity.

and besides, this web counter has an awesome feature that pinpoints my readers from their geographical position - when i click on this feature, this map of the world comes up with all these dots that represent the readers so hey - I CAN SEE YOU GENEVIEVE ANTONO TAG MY BLOG UPDATE YOURS PLS WHEN ARE YOU COMING BACK TO SINGAPORE =) HOW IS CANADA, MY FRIEND GOES SKIING THERE, APPARENTLY HE'S QUITE PRO HAVE YOU GOT A FUNNY ACCENT, EH?

you know, this post was actually meant for something of a more depthful matter, religion to be exact, seeing that it is ramadan, and many many related things have been swimming in my head, but then i checked my blog for tags, saw the counter, got quite excited, blog-hopped this and that, and augh i must now strive to move away from the tangent(aha, see that's fulfilling my quota for mathematical information-thingy; a mathematical term.)! its about time i write something somewhat serious, looking at the past half-hearted entries.

some time back, in a conversation with hazri, we talked about the coming ramadan and the ensuing bahavioural changes that it entails. roughly, he thought it was nonsense for people to be substantially more pious during this month, and then regress back into i suppose, morally decadent ways once it has passed - as if to build up credit so that you could be bad for the rest of the year, something along those lines i think.

it's almost a reverse be-good-santa-is-coming syndrome.

at that point of time when he said that, i don't think i replied much because what he said made me wonder whether that was what i did, be good for a month in compensation for the 11 months of neglect. you see, for me right, i don't or can't respond fully to the opinions of others and formulate my own opinion immediately - i'm the kind who kinda nods, mulls over it five minutes, hours, days, weeks or months later and THEN, my somewhat fully formed opinion.

i would agree that his opinion is very true, it happens and undeniably hypocritical. but then again, i don't think it would be true to say that it is the basis for all momentarily pious behaviour. for me, during this month, i do end up adhering more to morally/religiously upright ways, which include from a conscious effort not to cuss (not always working) and to do my daily prayers as far as possible (ditto). partly, from obligation, and to be brutally honest, that oligation comes more from family/society rather than i don't know, an inner call of faith.

but that does not mean that it completely negates any effort of finding a better connection with God. maybe its easier to do so during this month, because the oppurtunities and well, atmosphere is there. it is a month, especially allocated for such things, and i suppose it is sad that it is more likely than not that i will regress into my usual ways post-ramadan, well hey, i'm trying. in spite of my cynicism and unconventional thoughts of religion and God, i think i do want to try.

gosh this feels odd.

do you know what else is odd? extreme displays of emotion resulting from worship etc. now, i'm not saying that it's weird per se, but I find it odd and like the way i don't understand how art students can so easily convert to science students, i simply just don't get it. it unnerves me. and i'm not even going into the questioning of the sincerity of all these displays.

the thing is, i am very wary of people displaying such extreme and rigorous conviction of their faith. this primarily means evangelists (not neccesarily solely Christian) and oh i don't know, crying. on the case of evangelists, my sticking point is that how can you be so completely, absolutely, infallibly sure that you are right, and that therefore, others are wrong? i mean, seriously. in all logic, you have to concede to the existence of other options and in doing so, the marginal possibility that they too have a chance of being right since after all, its not like you've got a giant rock with a divine carving that goes: HA I'M RIGHT, YOU'RE WRONG. you know? its just ridiculous, and such extreme conviction is just..narrow-minded.

and for extreme displays of emotion. see, i've always considered one's relationship with God to be a very personal and intimate thing, and this would also mean that hey, nobody else has to see it! its kinda the same logic for Public Displays of Affection for Couples - like, oh hey, glad you guys are happy and loving each other muchly but yeah don't have to see the physical evidence please kthnxbye. for reasons unfathomed, it just unnerves me.

for example, we once had this prayer session thing at home, with lots of random people my parents knew from the pilgrimage group and amiably going along with everything, when this man starts crying. which is okay, if it was the quiet type but oh no. kinda loud, definitely noticeable and while i was hey, happy for him that he i don't know, had an epiphany of some sort, i could not help but think oh gawd, pull it together please. i suppose its just that in recent times, i find it somewhat appropriate to keep a level of detachment between your private and public self. i don't know. well, the other day, we were doing one of the daily prayer things as a family and well, in the middle, my dad who was leading, at first his voice wavered, and then kibda cracked until it was clear that he was you know, crying. at least it wasn't superly dramatic like the other guy, but still it unnerved me. for one, i've never seen or heard my dad cry. have you?

faith - what a difficult, difficult subject. my faith in God comes in the form of little small things, like knowing that things that have or are happening, are essentially for the best, and that problematic dilemmas will work out fine and that i will be okay. that i should govern my life not from the nitty-griity rulings that sometimes come up with islam (can you say, micro-managing?), but just by being as good a person as i can be. so what if my arab is far from fluent (more like, non-existent) or that i can't memorize the hadiths, or the 101 rules pertaining to islamic legistlation?

i think i'm a good person, or at least, try to be.

my one flaw though, the one thing that will send me into the fire and brimstone of hell is that i am a compulsive liar.

i'm not proud of it, but i have to admit that its one of the things that keep my daily interactions with the Outside World smooth and well, functioning the way i would prefer them to. sometimes there's guilt, but not as often as it should be. i could, and should stop, and have tried actually. it lasted what, three weeks before i slipped back into it and well, yeah.

i lie.

do you guys have to be wary and distrust the things i say now? not really, i think. you believing the things i say is what keeps the relationship smooth and functioning, the way that both you and i would prefer it to be, and that, kiddies, is why i lie.

the irony of course, is that my compulsive lying does not negate me from being completely and baringly honest, as the past few paragraphs have proved.

all right here's what i don't understand:

it's actually after the promos, having somewhat survived it and yes kids, its very much worse than the O Levels and yet and yet i am so tired, there's actually hardly a spare second to catch my breath and god, even for leisure, i find myself rushing and struggling to squeeze it in between EVERYTHING (i.e. events of today) so everything is just bad, and under all the laughter is the unmistakable undercurrent of strain and lethargy, and the knowing that you are out with your friends not doing work, because you know that is as opposed to doing MORE work and it is just horrible, is everybody going through this.

i actually would want to list down everything that is a) pissing me off and b) making, or promising to make life hell but yeah i doubt you guys would be interested in that whining shit so i think i shall exercize some good ole self-restraint.
and you know the worse thing of all is that you can't even complain with satisfaction because there is this guilt that nudges you all the time that hey, whatever you're going through, he's getting it as bad too, or worse.

a case example:
struggling with photo exhibition shit - with amazing help from jenn+jerm+shim+shawn THANKYOU; watches a tired and rather frazzled ms narinder make her way to go home

ME: nnngh, you're going home? (read: whaaaat, you're going home while we're still stuck here being minions when we're not even the ones supposed to be minion-ing!)
NARINDER: i'm going home to work on the presentation for the minister due tomorrow (read: i'm bigger, and actually earning money for this, but hey, still a minion)
ME: oh. sorry.

which you know, makes this blog (and by this, i mean ALL forms of online journals so i am NOT converting, you eljay kids) completely pointless. i don't even find inane daily incidents remotely amusing anymore, so no light-hearted anecdotes either. there's barely enough time to breathe, let alone think substantial/interesting thoughts.











and on monday and tuesday, we have post-exam activities that is brilliantly all athletic-oriented, so i will spend time taking up court space as a relatively useless mass of lack-of-coordination hurrah.

it's crazy. recently rushing my art project, i'd end up so tired and forcing myself to sleep only with the compromise that while falling in and out of sleep in those odd half-conscious moments i would think up compositions for a problematic thingy, and oh dear god, the stress-induced strange dreams don't help either

interestingly, schizophrenia is hereditary.

i would kick this blog alive, but am preparing for my imminent death in the form of tomorrow's Econs essay paper. tell me how you want to be listed under my will; what do you want me to refer to you as, and what you would want from me.

Channelnewsasia Forum :: View topic - Arts or Science..Which is better?

Channelnewsasia Forum :: View topic - Arts or Science..Which is better?: "I was an Arts student. I think the main diff is that Science subjects are more towards theory whereas Arts makes you think. (real hard I tell you)."



yes, thinking. absolutely iffy, that!

*much amused*

i've been poking around the CNA online forum pages, and it really is quite fun. and i realize how geeky just saying that makes me - OH WELL. it's brilliant really, you read posts by incredibly astute people, then completely moronic people that you just want to slap and cannot believe they exist, and then you encounter bits of endearing true Singaporean-ness:

on the costs of studying overseas
"If you want cheap go study in Indonesia. Woaaaa lau lan ey, everyone so giam siap one."

i actually burst out laughing when i saw that.

Poking through forums like this is like blog-hopping, but in a better condensed form and it makes me happy because i get in a debate-y mode and actually CAN put forth my opinion because that's what i'm supposed to do!

*glee*

A session of camwhoring by the river with the EBS.

because i don't feel quite wordy recently, for lack of inspiration or more likely, sleep, here's a summary of sunday's events.

it rained, a lot.


as the wet roads should testify. this photo was taken by hazri, and gleefully digitally-fiddled by yours truly.

we trooped over to lau pa sat for food, and more camwhoring of brilliant architecture that is somewhat lacking in singapore recently *coughSMUcoughsupremecourtcough*


i love this shot. it is something about the masses of dark space in brilliant contrast to the light from the stalls and windows that i find - guh. i don't know, there's a reason why i took a photo of it, instead of writing a prose piece.


likewise.

and what is a camwhoring session by the river, without pictures

of the river itself!


i can't quite decide which i like better, so yeah.

and of course, the customary emoshots of beautiful people (why am i not getting paid for this?):

vincent.
hoho i knooow you like this picture vincent. so, just a friendly reminder: if seft needs a photographer cum graphic artist, remember who is willing to work for a nominal sum (or lunch)!


hazri.
it's quite a pity that you can't see his face in this picture because hazri usually makes very good photos. oh well, TOO BAD - besides, i have enough photos of you looking dramatically and photogenically good


matthew.
so you see matthew, if all else fails, you can be - A MODEL. don't try to deny it, you stood there for eons just waaaaiting for someone to take your picture


janice.
Embodying the spirit of adolescent angst and burn-out. after one too many circular debates on the merits of local poetry and pretentious art, perhaps? but lovely photo though.


janice, again. (taken by hazri, edited by me.)
suddenly, she is quite happy. i wonder why - passing parade of nekkid gay men, hmm? i think this was an attempt by hazri to take model-esque pictures of all of us, and this proves me wrong on the fact that people look best in candid shots, cos jan looks awesome here.


kass. (i *think* i took this one, don't throw rocks at me hazri!)
so pretty - the thing i like about taking pictures of kass is that she has this simplicity and innocence about her. i'm not saying this is who she is, or isn't, but my pictures of her always have that quality. it's quite a rare thing, nowadays.


and me (taken by hazri, edited by me).
decidedly happier behind the camera, ja.

(written on a internet-less laptop, while computer was being sent to Reformatting Land)

18 August, 2005 02:23AM

Right. I’ve realized how much I miss rambling without the worry of an audience like I used to in a similar computer journal before I was attached to the Internet, blogging and the subtle (or not) exhibitionism that comes with it. I’m writing on the school’s laptop by the way and shit, I need to go shit but I want to finish typing this sentence before I go – heaven forbid I forget to delete this off the desktop before I return it IF ANYBODY IS READING THIS BECAUSE I FORGOT TO DELETE THIS, DO TRY TO CONTAIN YOUR LAUGHTER AT MY SELF-ABSORBTION I KNOW YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME TOO, DO NOT TRY TO DENY IT.

Besides, it’s not as if I don’t know how ridiculous the previous entry sounded.

This is really quite liberating, I like the laptop’s keyboard – it makes nice, soft and gratifying clicks. I realize how little I’ve written recently, and GP essays are just hell, and lit essays! Well, they’re not that far behind either. I was telling my mum earlier on, how I don’t know whether I can do brilliantly enough to get a scholarship considering how recently, I’ve been screwing up so badly in just about everything! Other people who listen to my similar griping are quick to say, “No laaah, you! Retain! It’ll never happen” and so on, but my mother (bless her heart) didn’t say anything. I’m not quite sure what that means but at this point of time, it’s nice to hear something that is not the mistaken positive conviction of my scholarly aptitude. It gets tiring you know, and I know this does sound trite and again, self-absorbed, but its tiring and trying to hear people convinced that you are doing well when you’re actually not! It’s embarrassing, and it’s not like they’ll ever let themselves be convinced otherwise too because they’re (and rightfully so) are too caught up in their academic nightmare as well.

But then again, my mum not saying anything might mean that she can see me failing.

But then again, this would also mean that my mum doesn’t mind me failing. Of course she wouldn’t want me to fail, but there is a fine line between wanting and minding.

I suppose its times like this that we have be reminded that failure at one path does not equate to the end of the world. It isn’t after all. Right? Even so, you can hardly blame us for being so afraid of failure. In a time where the word fuck isn’t quite a profanity as it used to be, f****** might just be the new F-word.

Randomly, here’s a justification for the…mushiness emo qua-(ok I have to go shit)lity: I have a need to purge it out you know, I don’t think I should let it be quiet and simmer by itself because it might lead to a mutation of god-knows-what, and that I can bet, will not be very healthy. So yes, purging. I mean, besides, nobody that I’ve told, seems to grasp the gravity of what I’ve told them which to tell you the truth, is a trifle annoying.

I mean, seriously. To be unrestrainedly and unabashedly emo: I am trying to tell you the deepest depths of my feelings here (cue: melancholic face). I don’t know why, and can imagine why people would find it far from fun, but I want to talk about it. But everybody is so busy trying to finish their essay outlines and what-shit, and I don’t really blame them for not really veering towards being the passive half of a session of self-indulgent navel gazing. But still – darn!


August 18, 2005 09:41AM
Let’s talk about food.









Or rather, the lack of it. I have not been in eating much, and it’s not as if it’s a conscious effort to diet. It’s a lack of appetite and maybe, boredom at what there is for me to eat and the solution for this, is to not eat. This isn’t very difficult to do in school where the range I have is minimal and well, not that great.

But that is not the point here. With this lack of eating, and being constantly hungry, I cannot help but hope that hey, maybe this will help me lose some of my squishiness! When I first realized this sentiment, it made me quite wary because it was the start of joining the ranks of the legions of women who are obsessed with weight – it’s stupid, and silly but God help us, it is almost something that we cannot avoid. Maybe the answer lies within our extra X chromosome.

Do you know, whenever I come across those Beautiful People mini-articles that cite their healthy habits, what I check is not what they have for breakfastlunchdinner (which usually, amounts to nothing or should be nothing considering how bad it must taste), but their height. I look at their height, see that their much taller (not that difficult, really) but weigh THE SAME OR MUCH LESS than me! Which only makes me want to go,

“Guh.”

Or worse, they are my height, and still skinnier. I’ll explain the logic behind this: You see, if they belonged to the willowy waif-like demographic, it would be more all right because they’re not like me at all. But when they’re my height, it hits closer because well, they’re short people like me too so why aren’t they squishy and a little stumpy like me! Tres unfair.

But the even more significant point here is the fact that I am actually bothered. It’s not that extreme until upon reading such articles, I immediately rush to the loo to puke (and heaven forbid I ever end up like that, someone slap me silly really) but come on! It’s just weight.

You know, bone flesh and fat. It seems ridiculous that everybody is so concerned and pre-occupied with the amount of it. Achieving the perfect dress size has almost become the Holy Grail and I cannot understand our obsession with it.

#EDIT: HAH I'VE LOST 2KG. not that it matters anyway, because these things have a funny way of coming back to haunt you - usually in the form of the peanut butter sandwiches that i'm eating now yum.

This morning, it took me fifteen whole minutes to realize that my father had woken me up half and hour earlier, and this resulted in my face contorting into a befuddled and annoyed scowl which i suppose, is rather amusing when you consider that i was sitting on the toilet bowl, fully clothed and doing nothing because i was too groggy.

Then, i spent another ten minutes being more annoyed, and uh, doing nothing.

because we forgot to bring a camera today, and this mistake proved VERY irritating and regrettable as the day wore on with more Kodak Moments cropping up, i am blogging to try commit to memory at least, the seemingly insignificant, but brilliant moments had today,

a Picnic at the Istana.

the grounds of the Istana are really beautiful, to the point of looking like tellytubby-land. we walked in, where there was a pond and charmaine yelled quite befuddlingly, "flamingos!" why do i consider this outburst of emotion odd?

because they were swans.
*pauses to remember hysterical laughter that ensued*


and she took 3 seconds to realize her slip. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT CHARMAINE. i might know why she said flamingoes - because thinking back now, the landscaping of the pond and the non-pink birds looked uncannily similar to the flamingo enclosure of the singapore zoo when i was little so *that* might have i suppose, triggered something, yes. and don't ask me how i can remember such things, it's a strange but pleasant odd feeling in the gut.

MATTHEW GOT SNUBBED BY MR. PRESIDENT! this was hilaaaaaaaarious. personally, this can only mean one thing. that this benign, affable (see, positive adjectives kiddies) man has Sekrit Superpowers. why do i say this - because on the way to the istana, what charmaine and matthew spent a considerable amount of time saying Not-so-nice Things about said man. when matthew offered him some pasta, what i'm theorizing is that Mr. President has the supernatural ability to look into a person's soul and know whether you are a fan of him or not! aha.

but then again, obviously he doesn't like half-hearted defenders either because he ignored me too x( you wait, mr nathan! one day, i'll pop over the istana from under the giant flower bushes and steal your prata! then all you'll have left, is a bowl of fish curry. just because we didn't want to fangirl/fanboy you by joining your growing entourage of (oddly) enthusiastic singaporeans. of course, there were all the parents to attend to, what with them shoving their little kids into your arms and all - someone should tell them that Personal Contact With President on (insert date), (insert time) for a duration of (insert negligible number) minutes WILL NOT get said kid into a prestigious primary school after he progresses beyond monosyllabic words.

let's see, what happened next. there was massive eating, and the realization of economical it is to eat/make home-cooked food. lying down staring at the clouds through the backlit pattern of raintree leaves. sketching, bumming and an attempt to do schoolwork on matthew's part because he read an ENTIRE CHAPTER of his lit book. also! charmaine and i made friends with this cute boy.

Vernon, age: 0ne and a half years.

after playing with said little boy, who was quite shy awww, we trooped up to the istana! this turned out to be a smart move indeed.

it was getting quite hot by then, and we heard the inspiring sounds of a bell tolling - the bell, of ice cream. this made us so so so very happy that we started singing,
"DO YOU KNOW THE ICE CREAM MAN
THE ICE CREAM MAN
THE ICE CREAM MAN

DO YOU KNOW THE ICE CREAM MAN
WHO -"
because we didn't know the following lines, but you know, we've never let a bout of ignorance ruin our fun! and so, continued the wailing. we then found out however, the extent in which capitalism ruins such joy BECAUSE THE PRICES THEY CHARGED WERE DAYLIGHT ROBBERY. it was exploitation of the People! who, in all consideration, are the patriotic ones since they were at the istana, of all places.

as such, we whined a little about the prices, but hung around the booth because matthew doesn't mind being exploited for some chocolate ice cream. charmaine however, went to ask the Old Man to lend us the bell that he was ringing to lure in unsuspecting victims of enterprising capitalism and with the Power of the Bell bestowed upon us, we decided to help (no not out of goodwill, just because you all should know by now that i have an inclination for doing inane but insanely amusing things).

and we rang the bell, going, "ICE-CREAM ICE-CREAM! GET YOUR ICE-CREAM HERE itsreallyexpensivebut BUY YOUR ICE-CREAM ITS REALLY GOOD daylightrobberydaylightrobbery ICE-CREAM ICE-CREAM!" twas hilarious fun, and it only got better when we passed back the bell, and the nice Old Man gave us a free cone to share -

HURRAH FREEBIES. this of course, caused a spurt of guilt considering the um, subliminal messages in my short advertizing stint BUT CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM ON A HOT DAY KNOWS NO GUILT.

much satiated on ice-cream, we proceeded to the customary trip to the istana. much opulence yadda3, but hey air-conditioning! and no, i am not going to describe in detail the shiny pewter or the velveteen curtains (although the flowers were quite pretty) because since you've read this far, i am going to reward you with the exclusion of boring details! how's that for a magnanimous gesture.

matthew: "the curtains are really nice."
we toddle off to examine said curtains that hang over huge french doors. the situation here is that i am already quite giddy on endorphins and the golden doorknobs of said doors are hard to resist. fumbled with the first one, locked - BUT THE SECOND ONE YIELDS WITH A SATISFYING CLICK and an oppurtunity to skulk in areas that are out of bounds

and honestly, which self-respecting adolescent who has not stretched out her mischief bone for a looooong time not take it up? it was given to us, dammit. so we slipped out, under the noses of grandly uniformed guards who were pre-occupied with ensuring that the legions of toddlers didn't put various pewter objects in their mouths.

to be honest, i was quite at a loss on what to do once we got out. and i suppose, most of the endorphins came from the fact that it was absolutely clandestince, and it didn't matter that what we did was actually quite inane, like avoiding the pool attendant and laughing at room signs that indicated the Butler's Store and Flower Arrangement Room. but you see, the essence of doing classic adolescent things like this is the stupidity! and that, kiddies, is the beauty of it.

also, we learnt that while it is lame, the "sorry i didn't know we weren't allowed here, we kinda got lost how do we get out?" story *does* work. so! they didn't even check our bags to see whether we stole the butler's..shoe polish or something. shoddy work Mr. Policeman sir, shoddy work. but all is forgiven because you were so nice to and affable and accepted our story without blinking an eye.

i mean, really. do you THINK we actually *accidentally* got lost.

but you know, if there's one single moment that i would like to remember about today, it would be us sprawled on the dense carpet grass, barefoot by the water fountain with the beautiful architecture of the istana looming above us. yes the skulking and creepily hospital-like corridors were quite cool, likewise what lead to resulting free ice cream.

charmaine and i, after waddling in the fountain for awhile sprawled on the grass. at first, we were all just sitting down but you know, it was just so beautiful and UN-SINGAPORE that you just had to lie down on the grass. and then we had one of those Brainwaves (not neccesarily intelligent), i looked at her and said, "let's roll on the grass."

"what?"

"let's roll."

"no!"

"yes."

and we did! it was brilliant! three seventeen year olds, rolling around on the grass (while none of the um, other little kids were doing so) and i am telling you, tumbling around was so LIBERATING. can you say, stressedjcstudentsregressingintochildhoodandindulginginactiviesthathaveneverbeendone?

and this is the Perfect Moment that will be what carries me through the ensuing weeks of inane academia, kiddies: the seconds laughing and laughing after we stopped rolling, giddy on endorphins, feeling every blade of prickly grass through my polo shirt, eyes scrunched shut because i was laughing so hard, the sun on my face, with my two best friends close by my side






it was, for lack of better expression, a flash of what experiencing a utopia would be like, and that, is worth everything.

OMGTHISBLOGISSTILLALIVE.
i surprise myself sometimes.

today, in GP or wait no, it was ethics class -which, we all know, is just half an hour spent bitching about the dire state of the human condition- i said something which perhaps, has been the most apt thing i've said in a looong time:

"i'm sorry we're not suffering."

the context here is that we were talking (ONCE MORE) about the complacency, hedonism, indulgence and lack of intellectual strife in singaporean youths. it is getting to be a very tiresome topic that surely by now, has exhausted itself! i know i am. vell, at the least, i have come up with my stance on this issue (i.e. the above sentence) and whenever this topic comes up, as i am sure it will, i will repeat it in my head over and over and over again until i drown all the other voices out so that all i'll here is the silence of the cows coming home.

speaking of cows! today, was steffi loe, our very own Vegetarian's birthday. the day was quite brilliant because birthdays just have the tendency of inducing endorphins, even if they're not your own. i was therefore, rather hyper and mind you, this was before the onslaught of chocolate and willy wonka. THE MOVIE WAS ALSO AWESOME CHARMAINE DON'T KILL ME I'M GOING TO WATCH IT WITH YOU I PROMISE REALLY. you know, one of those days where everything seems to go smoothly even when they're not actually because you're feeling nauseous from the spray paint and your feet are wet because of the hole in your sole but you insist on wearing said tattered sneakers anyway and there's lots of work but you conveniently ignore it AND THAT BAR OF CHOCOLATE DISAPPEARED MUCH FASTER THAN YOU EXPECTED seriously, like where did it go! but none of that matters anyway, because for some reason, everything seems to be going so well today from the inane like blowing huge bubbles into the gray sky and witty repartee with Eville counter-part/anisha and walking around with a ridiculous (and not very good) british accent because the movie was just so good and i ate a packet of tomato sauce in the cinema, on its own, yes it was quite nice shut up i do NOT have a tomato fetish and i wonder when this sentence is going to end, no, i suppose not yet, let's see what else can i remember that was good and endorphin-rushing about today well AH YES i have finally noticeably defiled a piece of school property and yes, i know this is rather long overdue considering the events of 2003&2004 but give me a break yes, it is rather difficult balancing the whole I'm A Geek Really Act and surpressing the Die Establishment, DIE aspect but indeed - the blue door of the art room now has strong vestiges of limey green spray paint i wonder what annoying Operations Manager will say oh the day was charmed even for the bubble that we blew which took a fascinating and much emphasis must me placed on this, LONG-LIVED journey whereby it narrowly escaped the spikes of the roof, floated up and then paused in mid-air absolutely still as if musing what next to do, which by the way, included floating over to the next block and all Punsters with substantial experience with the Livelihood of Bubble-blowing should know that this, is nothing short of miraculous but it did after all, after some time and much joy in this corporeal world, go *pop* fare thee well, little bubble that brought us much joy and laughter, your achievements, though seemingly trivial, will not be forgotten and wow this IS a very long sentence isn't it, i wonder whether anybody's still reading this by this point, IF YOU ARE, you are quite silly indeed because i'm sure by now you would have realized that this is simply a mass of incoherent rambling that is even beyond my usual level of well, incoherence and you all really must find something to do with your life, ambition is the key IT IS THE KEY and perhaps, you should find a hobby, like like what is really passive and inane ah yes, mountain-climbing without ropes and a knowledgeble, if hobbit-like guide oh all right i suppose i'll allow you to bring some raffia and geez this rambling this is quite exhausting, i used to be able to do this for ages i must be getting old, in fact i am feeling an odd sharp pain below my ribcage, in addition to the chronic neck and backache - oh yes i've forgotten the entire purpose (yes there was one) of this rambling: happy thoughts!

because after matthew's sms and the subsequent checking of my e-mail inbox, only to find more suggestions on how to make my penis larger thankyouverymuch, endorphins that had coursed through veins dissipated quite significantly which, leads me to the conclusion that endorphins must have some alcohol-like property since it can hit you in the head so fast, but then, evaporate so quickly as well. according to the wise words of willy wonka, and yes this is the accursed accidental alliteration, endorphins make you feel like you're in love. all i have to say is, well! i've always known about the endorphins but just thought that it just made you feel generally happy but noooo. love, indeed. all right then, close all the dating agencies, re-write that Beatles song (dontkillmejanice) because it's not love, but all you need, is chocolate.

so i've regressed back to charcoal drawings.

i have been quite perturbed how i've been so reliant on basic cartoon-work, what with all my morose stickmen figurines. the convenience of doing crude line drawings you know, it just makes you plain lazy. and like, much to my horror doing art class the other day, my hand just refused to draw "properly".

so am forcing myself back to the basics.

the even more disturbing thing is that guh, i'm quite unnerved by what i've been drawing. i'm doing quick portraits, and well, charcoal is naturally dark and me - i've got this inclination to be dark and it is something i can't quite let go of.

C'MON I MANAGED TO MAKE PURPLE DARK AND MORBID. geez.

the portraits are just that, dark, and unintentionally so! it's really something i can't quite shake off GUH. it's like the time zara and i laughed hilariously because i tried to draw a happy stickman,

and he looked sinister.




i am not even going to try draw a happy portrait. who knows what might come up *shudder* if i have the time, i might scan in my doodles and all

yes and baybeats was good.

today is a beautiful day.

wow, what an unusual burst of optimism izyanti, you say.

i know, it's not often i feel this way, and especially when it's over nothing really. it's the little things, i've decided, that make a day simply brilliant and even this brilliance is not the monumental hit of supercalifragilicious expialidocious-ness.

i'm spending my first five minutes in school on the computer blogging because well, i just arrived and it's 1350. i skipped the first half of school to stay home to do schoolwork due today, and i feel so calm. and much better than i would if i had gone to school, ploughed through lessons that i won't be paying attention to because i'm busy trying to finish due assignments under my econs notes. so i'm in school for art, which is starting in about an hour and honestly, getting away with things like this fill me with quiet glee.

hee.

well, there is the whole missing malay and therefore, not being around to do the group presentation thing, and i do feel a bit guilty for that - BUT, i'm planning to do the written component all by myself so i hope that will help. there, conscience appeased.

the weather is really pretty today, there was a slight drizzle while i was walking to the bus stop, and i reached just in time before the heavy shower started. and before that, i managed to buy the elusive blue packet Skittles, and that makes me happy too. when i got out of the bus, the weather was just perfect.

and even though perfect weather usually makes me wish i wasn't in school, it was fine. it was bright, but not hot or humid and you know, if there's one thing i will always remember over cjc is that for some reason, it always has a brilliantly beautiful sky over it. maybe i notice it more because we're always climbing stairs here and so, have our heads tilted skywards. i don't know, but i certainly don't notice the sky much otherwise.

usually it's in the morning, going up the overhead bridge and you can still see the sun rising and all the colours that come along with it. and then there's the expressway that we cross over, and this huge stretch of tarmac kind of rising and fading in the horizon, with all the buildings sort of framing the clouds and from the art-student point of view, it's a perfect composition from every angle.

i suppose a large reason why i'm so annoyingly cheery is that i've been re-reading totto-chan and this book is just brilliant in it's poignant simplicity. the idea that such a school existed fills me with the silliest emotion - idealistic hope. like gee, there are so many wonderful things that can and will happen! and you know, totto-chan just reminds me of gennie in all of her exuberance.

i'll miss her a lot when she goes to canada, but i'm so happy that she'll be happy doing her own thing there.

yesterday, i had a good talk with my dad (well, he did most of the talking, as usual) but for those who know, i'm comparatively not that close with my dad and i kinda avoid talking about things that might bristle with him, for obvious reasons. we talked about a constant cause of friction between us - my curfew, or rather, how often i don't curtail to it. talking things through, he said things like how there are many things that i do that he disapproves of, things that he'd rather "forbid" me to do, but he doesn't because he understands and wants me to prove the trust that he's put in me. and it's the little things like that, when he reins in his well, absolute authority even though he doesn't want to, that mean a lot to me. it's kind of thing i'll remember twenty years from now.

and this morning, he picked up my (sort of) essay on what i thought about god, faith and the strange fumbling around that comes with the search for it. i was just about to leave the house, putting on my shoes really, and he was at the gates when he mentioned it. i kind of froze at first, because religion is one of the topics that fall under the To Avoid Talking About With Dad list, because he's so conservative and i don't think he would like hearing more..liberal views coming out of his daughter. but do you know what he said?

"sometimes, i feel that way too."

and maybe, it's that simple statement that made my day because for the first time in a long time, i don't know, i love my dad so much. and it's not often (what an understatement!) that such clear sentiments arise.

Recipe for Surviving Scenarios of Mental Fatigue
- 1 bottle Brand's Chicken Essence
- 1 humongous vitamin B pill
- bananas (avoid heavy carbs because they make me even more sleepy
- assortment of candy, as an uh, compensation for putting in effort not to nap in lessons
- understanding and sympathetic friends who bear with my high-strungness and sometimes, sudden tongue-lashing (thank you zara + stef *sniffles*)

oh bugger it, i've got cranberry stains on my skirt.




speaking of recipes right, i was thinking that the next time we (read: ebs/punsters/whoever) meet up, instead of having another mooovie marathon, let's have a cooking shindig! cos i was reading this person's blog the other day, and that was what they did and it sounds muchos fun. and no, Angry Nugget Men do not count janice. it'll be the awesome - we'll have an appetizer, main course, dessert! mmm.

guh. i'm hungry. i can't stand canteen food no more. they stopped selling brownies because the moe (or some Eville branch of it) decided that no, it is not good to offer the students an avenue for instant gratification. this makes me very unhappy. but by principle only, actually - considering that i never did buy brownies much when they were around. but c'mon! i'm not selfish, THINK OF ALL MY FELLOW FRIENDS WHO ARE SUFFERING FROM BROWNIE WITHDRAWAL.

tis cruel, indeed.

i cannot wait till debate is over, although paradoxically i do hope it won't immediately end post-saturday, for obvious (or not) reasons. you know, when people ask me what cca i'm in, it's easier to say "i'm in debate", rather than

"i'm a debater."

i just find it strange to say the latter. it's the same feeling you get when you tell someone "i'm getting straight As" when you're not, or "i'm a purple hippotami" - it's like a complete lie, or that's how it feels. what a perturbing feeling! i think it's linked to the fact that the debating circle, i think, is a very close and closed thing, and i am such a noob. and most of them are brilliantly competent although this does not exclude them from being friggin' pompous and irritating prats *coughajccough*



















STOPPROCRASTINATINGGETBACKTOWORK

if i'm not careful, this blog is going to turn into one of those SCHOOL-CENTERED ANGSTY WHINING BITCH-FESTS that are so dreary to read.





but it's true laaaaa. i'm so pissed at everything, at this moment right now that you know what would help? Marks & Spencer's milk chocolate buttons that don't melt into a squishy coagulated lump. this, can also be substituted by a volunteer who i willing to be bitch-slapped/shin-kicked by me - so yes, the line starts here, please take a number.

guh!

what is overwhelmingly pissy-offy is that today, was My First Day of Proper School, and it was just horrid. although to be fair, any day is horrid when you've only had THREE FRIGGIN HOURS OF SLEEP.

but you know, to make myself sound less shallow-whiner, i shall pick a Scapegoat to vent my Undirected Angst. today's goat will be: MINAHS.

it's not that i'm just picking on them because i'm senselessly pissed off at nothing okay, it's this thing that has been hovering in my head since monday, and has left me quite perturbed. what happened was that took a cab ride on that afternoon, and Mr. Cabdriver was one of the particularly chatty ones.

so it started out as a conversation about the Importance of Education (i was on the way to school) and how educated people (he said one, not me arh) simply behave differently. somewhere along the line, it got racial, and we, or actuallyhe, went on about the different kinds of malays that he meets as a cabdriver.

he talked about the malay girls that he picks up from boat quay, post-clubbing, and was very hung up on how drunk they were, how young they were, how skimpily they dressed, their tattoos and how that in their drunkeness, they'd sit by the roadside in their short skirts, exposing their pantaloons for all to see.

and all i could do was sit there and squirm, because well, it's true. these stupid friggin minahs are completely without dignity and shame that even the common taxi-driver you know, well, HE KNOWS. it's terribly embarassing to have this low-life pond scum ruining the perception of malays.

i know i'm being very harsh, but i am just so pissed with them.

note: why am i not so pissed with the mats, i don't know. maybe because personally (no offense random reader who might be a malay guy), i've found that generally, malay guys are just dumb. NOT ACADEMICALLY mind you, it's just totally different mindset and wavelength. if i wasn't in such a crappy mood, i'd bother to think up of a better and more apt adjective, but i can't so bear with it.

come on, think about it. when you hear the word malay, what's your first response? i don't know about you, but geez! i think, mats and minahs because they are the dominating demographic in our racial culture. its crap-shit, but damn it's true. which is why i've given up being annoyed with people like bern who call me a minah because oh my god, i wear emo-glasses and am *gasp* malay. automatically, it's easy to assume that because i share a physical resemblance, i am one of the flock.

you give a chinese person emo-glasses, and he's funky, or uh well. emo. i shop/dress with a sub-conscious effort not to look like a bloody friggin minah, because you know, huge disadvantage that i already share the same skin colour. fuck that man.

but that's not the point here. what is hugely disturbing is that it is THE FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND. and this is juxtoposed with the politically correct assumption that malays are conservative, mild-mannered and religious enough to bear the discomfort of a headscarf in this bloody weather. the disparity is just so - on particularly bad days, mortifying.

friggin pond scum.


the strange thing of course, is that while i may sound like a moralizing bitch right here and now, i hardly belong to the opposite camp of staunchly religious malays. they're okay, but my peeve with them is how easily they accept what they are told. and sadly, i more than occasionally disagree with what i'm being told, because (and it doesn't have to do with god here), certain things are man-made, and we all know humans are fallible and flawed. i hate dogma.

but that's another rant, for another day.

i've been thinking what being 17 has meant to me after i watched this docu-show on mtv on a couple of famous people when they were 17.

has it been awesome? well, not really, considering how non-descriptish i've been in cjc. but on the other and much happier hand, there's the EBS. a recent conversation with bern who was musing how much more she wants to achieve:

"you're already an over-achiever!"
"but i'm not over-achieving enough -"

and that, is the essence of how i've been this year too.

yesterday i came home from school absolutely and thoroughly zonked.

1045: arrived in school, wandered around wondering where my malay projectmates were.

1055: i embark on a quest to get my mentorship form signed by the principal. after much deliberation and noises of disbelief, i am told that he is not in school and that i should leave the form in school so i can pick them up on monday. "BUT THAT WOULD MEAN I HAVE TO TRAVEL TO SCHOOL ON MONDAY AND I DON'T WANT TO SPEND MORE TIME HERE THAN I HAVE TO", i want to whine, but i resist.

1100: into siberia aka school library to fiddle with portfolio while waiting. had an encounter with art classmate, who's doing major research work on van gogh. you know, reading those huge and dusty tomes. had a burst of procrastination-induced guilt, because i haven't started. the horrors.

1105: Groupmate1 messages - she just woke up.

1120: Groupmate2 messages - he too, just woke up. brilliant.

meanwhile, i'm freezing my bloody arse off, and pondering the age-old question - "what the hell am i doing here?"

1230: Groupmate1 arrives. we work out the project lenghtily, and finish in 20 minutes, in english. it is decided that we shall entask the ardous job of translating our scribble into malay to Groupmember2 who never showed up.

1250: wanders over to the dark (really, it is) shelves of the malay section and pick up a book of malay essays in an attempt to somewhat, prepare for the A Level Malay orals later on.

1255: decide that it is all very boring, and also, that i do not like Malaysian propoganda.

1400: *toddles of to this specially built Teaching Development Center that's quite nicely done, with actually GOOD sculptures around. but, like all school development projects go, this room is apparently only used for aforementioned oral exams*

1405: Groupmate1 realizes that today's exam, is NOT an internal examination hurrah

1440: i screw up my oral paper.

1445: very much dejected, i come across desmond, and wail about the horribility of it. he says he too, horribilified his, but i don't believe him. stupid efficiently bilingual people.

1500: spend more time in siberia with portfolio, reasoning that i certainly won't do it when i get back. i pick another spot to sit that from experience is not as siberia-ish. i expect it's more, canada. gee my library is international.

1645: librarian toddles over, and asks me what i'm doing (illustrating some stuff). she says, "wow other people go out party after exams, you're still here ah." oh this is great, i am OFFICIALLY THE LIBRARY-HOVEL HOBBIT. this will do wonders for my (non-existent social life) i'm sure.

1715: dash out of the library, to make my point that i am NOT A NO LIFER THAT SHE THINKS I AM to the librarian. well, not really.

i spot the principal's huge SUV in the car park. for a moment, i wonder why he has such a huge car when he uh, doesn't have a huge family with all that celibacy shebang. but this means! HE IS IN SCHOOL AND I CAN GET IT SIGNED NOW

1755: i find out that in general office terms, "now" can mean 40 bloody minutes. but it is time well spent! i read three NIE newletters, and discover that trainee teachers are "hip and happening" as seen in the extensive article on their Dinner & Dance. brilliant, old fogeys doing the limbo rock - THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO BE WHEN GROW UP MUM.

1800: goes home

1850: NTUC HAS NOT RESTOCKED ON CRANBERRIES. this makes me very sad, and i literally drag my feet home.

1900: shuffle around home, had dinner, but didn't really eat it.

2030: falls asleep on bedroom floor.

2300: "why are you still in your school uniform?", my very concerned mother asks. she quite obviously, has overlooked the whole collapsing on the floor business.

0500: wake up when handphone alarm goes off. supposed to do art, but hell i'm rebellious and i uh, don't.

0800: wakes up finally after i wear out the Snooze button, with the realization that i have debate later on.





and so, as i dragged myself to school (once more), on the bus, trying to sleep without leaning my head against the grossly head-greasy window, stuck in a traffic jam, I WONDER WHETHER I HAVE BITTEN MORE THAT I CAN CHEW.

this is what it feels like:

*chokes*

because with applying for cap things, and the art exam prepping, and the debate nationals *dies* which is next weekend, which is also the day when we'll be filming the thing for temasek sem, and i really want to be in the video and did i mention, the deadline for the portfolio is the day before my art paper and shit, i shouldn't even be here but i am.

would i want any less? somehow, and god knows why, no. i just really wish they wouldn't co-incide all in one go so that i somehow, can BREATHE.

geez.

(obviously an half-written entry from some time back:)
it is two hours into saturday (02:06AM), and i must say, FRIDAY WAS QUITE WOAH.








as a result, i am currently very much broke. i wonder whether i can open my own charity. it's a good cause you know, kinda like the Feed Izyanti Fund and! it'll make quite a nifty acronym - FIF. everybody knows that in singapore, it's the acronym that makes or breaks you.

the tale behind this of course, is not how i'm contemplating/pondering how to uh, convince mother dearest to give me more allowance for next week. but how i became so broke:

i woke up this morning, at 06:15, five minutes before the alarm on my handphone rang and don't ask me why i'm being so meticulously detailed and anal, just shut up and listen.

with much dread, i dragged myself to switch the bloody thing off. the alarm is undoubtedly very annoying and i suppose this makes it very effective in the whole purpose of uh, waking me up but it also means! that i wake up cranky, and this, is a Bad Thing.

what is also a Bad Thing, were the lit papers that i was sitting for that morning. my mum, being ever so kind, and more importantly, paranoid that the bus might get trapped in a rift in the space-time continuum and that *gasp* i might be late for the exaaams, drove me to school. we arrived, as i predicted, VERY early, and since i had no intention to spend more time in that exam-anxiety drenched institution more than neccesary, we sat in the empty carpark for 15 whole minutes.

at this point, i'm not quite sure why i'm being so inanely detailed but yes. this is not like me *shifty eyes*

the paper came, and passed. i think i pretty much screwed up the blake essay and disturbingly! i don't recall mentioning the word "theme" even ONCE in the whole two essays that i wrote, and this is very perturbing and upsetting and i can just imagine flunking lit omg the end is nigh and all that jazz.

in a spurt of adolescent rebellion, WE DID NOT GO HOME IMMEDIATELY TO STUDY. the horror, indeed. instead, being the hedonists that we are, i actually walked around town with zaratashkai, whereby i then abandoned them with much reluctance to meet the various members of the EBS (that's the Elitist Bastards Squadron, for you stupid people out there) and an Innocent Girl Named Jill. oh and also a Guy Named Terence. who! called! me! a! minah. but because he's the Signifant Other of a person i love very muchly, i suppose i shall not kill him. it's also probably because this particular person ALSO calls me a minah. i just cannot win.

larking around in kinokuniya, is of course a Crucial Bit on outings with the madCAP/EBS. it's a significant point of our Geekhood, i think. so as per usual, there was dissing and defending of local writing, and don't we all know that's very much a circular argument.

the favourite activity of an adolescent i think, is escapism. trooping over to the travel guides section, this we did extensively. you see, after the A Levels, we've been thinking off embarking on a Quest. it would be challenging, gritty and all too unhygienic but honestly, back-packing is the answer before we settle down into the serious humdrum pattern of life. the original plan was what, to take a train up to bangkok, switch to a train going through the Silk Route, across Moscow and poof! landing up in london before taking a plane back to singapore. brilliant.

except that we conveniently forgot that travelling across several continents require oodles of MUNNEY, and i calculated that even if i save a quarter of my allowance every week, i'd only have about $600. which! is why i think i should seriously consider plugging for my own charity. as all conmen would agree, don't steal it from them, make them give it to you.

The Izyanti Needs Your Money Fund, or the INYMF. i suppose FIF (Feed Izyanti Fund) sounds much snazzier, but that would mean i'd have to add in fine print what exactly you'd be feeding. it could be my literal appetite and current fixation on Tropical Skittles, and it could also feed my growing list of art supplies needed. it could feed the Sembawang Music coffers in exchange for the Love Psychedelico cd that i've been looking for, for years. so you see, like all charities, we function by lying by omision. so now that i've been gracious enough to be brutally honest, GIVE ME YOUR MONEY.

*beams*

batman begins was very good. it has cast spiderman and all of his geekiness in its dark shadow, everything was well done. i nearly cried once, and cringed terribly when ALL THAT BRILLIANT GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE BURNT DOWN TO THE GROUND. that could have been the saddest moment, ever. but! that's just me. also, post-watching the movie, i realize that i want a butler.

no, not a maid. i want a nice old man to be a yoda-like figure in my life, without being green, wrinkly and with a warped sense of syntax. because trust me, that's gonna affect my speech habits and very annoying it would be indeed, yes.

i also have to announce that Running Around In Odd And Cheesy Mascot Suit has since been scratched off my list of Things To Do Before I Die. although i would have to admit that i did not manage to do the running around bit very well, so i suppose i shall have to make another attempt at it, hoo!

in the late afternoon on friday, for (this makes me sad) approximately less than a minute, i was a huge and fuzzy droplet of haemoglobin. i think it's quite hilarious.

Things To Do Before I Die
- drive an excavator machine, and dig things with it.
- drive one of those huge field lawnmower things. (i tried to do this last saturday, but sadly was foiled because there were no keys. and yes, i can hear the sighs of relief from all of you! crud.)
- go on tv, pulling of a mad (but non-masochistic) stunt ala MTV Whatever Things!
- take part in a strike/boycott involving huge placards and angry faces. have no idea what cause i shall be Angry about though.
- travel extensively, or at least somewhere aways from *mutters* bloodysoutheastasia
- love. (edit: and be loved, in return)
- have kids. i think.
- be brave or brilliant enough (whichever comes first, i suppose) to publish something despite the clear knowledge that people out there are going to tear it apart largely on the basis that it's Local Writing.
- help put together a theatre production. and no, not as a backstage minion.
- own/drive a vintage 1967 volkswagen beetle

i think that's about it, for now. it's cliche and all, but supposing that (TOUCH WOOD) i die tomorrow, the one thing that i'd be sad about is that i've never loved in that way before.

and also that i studied all the econs for nothing.

so after i became for a moment in my life, a blob of haemoglobin and being Publicly Obnoxious by plopping ourselves down in the middle of nowhere to stone and muse in our typically EBS way, we walked back to town cos i HAD DINNER WITH THE 406 PEOPLE =D.

although i uh, got sidetracked into a burger king and took ages to rip myself away, the dinner went finey-fine/brilliant. it's just the familiar faces, and the old chemistry that we all have. the stupid jokes that we never tire of, yelling out the school song down orchard road with admirable bpghs pride, and of course, the endless camera-whoring. Good Old Times.

now that's what i call a Productive Day. spending time (cue: hallmark moment), with people you looooove. sadly, this involves the expenditure of munneh SO DONATE TO THE FEED IZYANTI FUND TO KEEP HER IN THE LOVELY COMPANY OF THOSE SHE LOVES. ALSO, THE THINGS SHE LOVES. donations will not be returned, because she would have spent it so hah!