(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.