so, I am Charlie Brown's baseball team.

I say this with no irony at all, unless those in the know would like to point out that it is not baseball m'dear, it is softball. Which, as we all know, is a gigantahumongous misnomer since the ball (and this I say from physical experience) is not soft at all.

In fact, I am so pre-occupied with the contradictary nature of this name so much that it is probably why I cannot play it all. That, after the fact that I was also too pre-occupied with the grossness of feeling the slick-with-sweat cushioning of the catcher's mask against my face, and that it is also too heavy and is slipping of my head and I actually have to hold it up with one hand and WHOA - ball flying into my face!

Just how does one cope!

It is the most cruel game to impose on a person with no sense of hand-eye coordination whatsoever. Somehow, when I stick my gloved hand in the air, waiting for the recently propelled un-softball to fall into said thick gloves, well, it doesn't. It's a mystery that I've been trying hard to figure out. Sometimes, it falls just besides me, before taunting me and making me run by rolling a 100m away or so. To others, I am sure, it appears that I am (moronically) standing still but I am telling you my dear sirs! According to my spacial judgement, it looked like I was standing at the right place and at the right time for it to land into my hand!

Okay, save for the few times I closed my eyes the nanosecond before it is in graspable reach.

Maybe it's because as an art student, I'm used to seeing 3-dimensional stimuli and translating it into 2-D and my brain just cannot understand the thought process required for activities such as softball. I sympathize with my brain. After all, it must be hard trying to process such unfamiliar thought patterns while being overwhelmed by the instinctual thought of: FAST BALL COMING YOUR WAY! PHYSICAL PAIN RESULTING FROM COLLISION IMMINENT - RUN! RUN!

At least I can throw the ball pretty okay, I think.

I am Charlie Brown's baseball team.

But you see, the problem is that the distinguishing line between love and hate is dotted.

That's why I couldn't seriously pick anybody when I mused on the topic of who I'd pick to be with if stuck on a deserted island with a couple of friends today. The first notion of logic that comes to mind is that you'd pick people who you love, or love to be with (which is not quite the same thing), but then you realize that because you love them, you also know their very flaws and at least for me, that really means I know you well enough to hate you.

That's scary, isn't it? It's true as well, that I do feel vestiges of hate for the people I love at times. It's just that I love them a lot more for 99% of the time, and the moments when I get mad, or massively annoyed/pissed/infuriated at them, I have the propensity to hate them because in any situation, I feel more for said persons.

The question I would like to pose, since I can't answer it is: Who would you rather be - the person I love and possibly could hate, or a person I am absolutely indifferent about?

WARNING: MASSIVE FRANZ FERDINAND RAVING.
Turn away if you're sick of this already.


O curse my short term memory!

The FF concert was shit-awesome of course, all worries about lacklustre live-audio flying out of the window since the sound was so clear and tight in tune and pitch that you'd think it was a recording, save for the fact that alex kapranos missed a couple of lyrics which in the grand scale of things, everybody who was there says - WHO CARES.

Right, back to the short term memory point. Too quickly too quickly the experience is fading for my memory like the bruises on my knee and hips. All I have in my head are quick flashes of bright lights, alex being a complete and lovable slut *FANGIRL*, nick and his guitar with the broken string swinging about, and for one of the songs zomg they had three people on the drums, and the quiet bassist who tash and i tried to wave to just to I don't know, so he'd be more cheerier somehow, so before all of this fades from my old brain:

PLEASE PEOPLE WHO ARE MY FRIENDS AND TOOK PHOTOS THEN, SEND THEM TO ME! SOON!
This means dhaniah/shila, jenn and your friend yvette (ask her to add me on msn, yes?), jaaanice and pam goh, although i suppose she doesn't even read this blog.

At one point, alex was standing on the drums and I thought woah, is he going to jump off then he uh, kind of nimbly hopped off and i was like, eh?

But the white light that made them look like angels and then turning blood red when they played This Fire, the way they sauntered out knowing, like tash said, that they didn't need a opening act or even massive dramatic shindig to work the crowd. When they played the first few bars of crowd-pleaser songs (which is almost everthing, basically) and the crowd just surges and the atmosphere was just there and zomg, alex really knew how to work the crowd with his sneaky, flirty furtive looks and uh, tight pants. or when the atmosphere is just SO up there and nick just kills you with the slick guitar and he plays with this pale and feverish gleam, or paul i think is standing hitting the bass drums pounding out a steady beat for us to cheer the band back out from their short breather and breaking out into Your Diary.

(paragraph break!)

how alex spoke with a funny elvis-accent, which is supremely odd for a scottish man and by general consensus, nobody understood but it was funny and they were having fun so again, nobpdy cares. oh oh and when they did those guitar jumps, or when people were jumping in the mosh pit and you jump along and it's like you're being carried by a giant organism IT IS SO WEIRD. oh oh and they played all the songs I wanted to hear by the first half and could die happy already because you could tell they were all really into it, and not just playing for a bunch of fans from a tiny speck of an island. hand punching and pointing in unision, screaming the words to the songs but you can't hear yourself anyway and then falling into captive silence when the song falls into a slow and soft catch and you can just see everybody watching the single notes and syllables flowing from the band like spheres of sound. Oh the bridge for Walk Away and That Was Easy were like that.

(oh come on, I must remember more than this!)

Hm, at some point in between songs, alex mentioned something about 'stirrings in his nether-regions'. I'm pretty sure I didn't imagine that, really! And for the love of everything in a flowery shirt and striped pants, I can't remember what led him to say that, or what he said afterwards.

I love that they made theatrical stage bows that were dignified in their own way, and did not smash one guitar at all throughout the whole thing because I honestly don't understand how musicians can bear to do that. Even though this entire entry quite shows that I have massive leanings towards Alex Kapranos fangirlhood, you know, we really were all there for the music.

Which was brilliant, and I don't think anything in 2006 can top that sweaty and cramped hour and half being hardly a meter away from FF although I would very much like to beg the Powers That Be to try, because man! If the peak of this year is in February, what does that say about the next 10 months?

So many times, I just wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the music the way I do with my earphones plugged into my ears in a closed and empty room but could only bear to close my eyes for 3 seconds each time because the nanasecond-thought of missing anything would immediately send my eyelids flying up.

Oh and when alex stand-curls around the mike stand and his light blue eyes glint under the spotlights singing slowly:
"You can feel my lips undress your eyes
Undress your eyes, undress your eyes
Words of love, words so leisured
Words are poisoned darts of pleasure"

Things that you can only see from a live performance, things that made the $90 so very very worth it. Somehow, I must convince you readers that I am not that massive a rabid fangirl, and even though I have vestiges of that, it's not the main point of this entry or why it was so brilliant.

It was the performance in itself, and these musicians with such a fresh sound, with an audience, a convention of like-minded souls you know? I suppose you have to admit that it is a form of idol worship although that makes me think of *shudder* Taiwanese boybands because for a long while, you've only known the band and their music and brilliance through indirect contact like cds and what, blog posts on their official site. and suddenly, their RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. Slight underexaggeration to say that things like that don't happen all the time and yes, again I suppose you could blame the celebrity culture that we have right now. But above all, it's just you want to know and meet the people that you think are incredibly talented because gosh, I'm sure they're pretty interesting people aren't they?

AND EVERYBODY WHO GOT TO
A) SHAKE HANDS
B) GET AN AUTOGRAPH
C) MANAGED TO PROCURE SUBSTANTIAL PIECE OF STAGE DEBRIS LIKE DRUMSTICKS AND GUITAR PICKS
D)STALKED THEM BACK TO THE HOTEL AND HAD MAD WILD ORGIES INVOLVING SINGAPOREAN FOOD

DON'T TELL ME OKAY. I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY UH, SMELLY CLOTHES THAT ARE STILL WAITING IN THE LAUNDRY BASKET. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.


My phone is so battered from the mosh pit it wants to cry.
Oh oh I don't want to forget so soon - come back neurones, come back!

One of the nice things about having an mp3 player and receiving too many songs to keep track is that sometimes, you are suddenly pleasantly surprised when you find an awesome song in your player that you didn't know even was in there. Today, that song is:

Kite
I hid myself from failure and fear
O my dear you're a threat to the bad in us all
They tell themselves that each word from your lips
Or the grace in your eyes overcomes any fall

Over the twilight you're listening for me
Darling, go to sleep
Cradled by moonlight, I'm dreaming we'll be
Loved so deep

Floating and fighting, like a kite on a string
Till you cut through my tether and changed everything
From the sky you looked small, but I loved you the same
So I darted back quickly to spell out your name
And when they say that I'm just a terrible kite
You'll tell them you're proud of my marvelous flight

Don't hide yourself inside till I'm old
O my dear you're a threat to the bad we all see
I'm beside myself for the touch of your lips
Or the grace of your eyes that can see good in me

Over the twilight you're listening for me
Darling, go to sleep
Cradled by moonlight, I'm dreaming we'll be
Loved so deep

Floating and fighting, like a kite on a string
Till you cut through my tether and changed everything
From the sky you looked small, but I loved you the same
So I darted back quickly to spell out your name
And when they say that I'm just a terrible kite
You'll tell them you're proud of my marvelous flight

- Copeland.

It sounds like a beautiful and sad lullaby, and lovely lyrics.

Thanks (insert name here) for sending it to me!

i have a sudden craving for blueberry waffles. and not the fancy-schmancy gelare kind mind you, i miss the good old heartland bakery kind so it is with much sadness and longing that i announce that the Nagoya Bakery at Teck Whye Lane has closed down.

i suppose it means nothing to you, but oh that was a place for cheap birthday cakes that always looked better than they tasted as i would find out every time when i was able to convince my parents to buy me a small mini-cake slice, the kind that has a tasteless wafer biscuit shaped as a disturbingly distorted dwarf. i won't be able to trace my name (the narcissism! the narcissism!) anymore in the condensation of the chiller while waiting for my waffles, or choose candles that eventually end up dusty at the bottom of the kitchen drawer.

NO MORE WAFFLES FOR BREAKFAST.

who says Singapore beaches are ugly?



so while the majority of the singaporean population triapsed around the island trading (at times) mouldy citrus fruits and collectively bemoaning the torturous activity that is visiting relatives you hardly know AND don't quite wish to know, I spent the monday "camping" at east coast.

I've said this to people many times, but only because it's true: on holidays where malays are generally excluded (i.e. christmas and CNY), the beach becomes this happy refugee camp! half the malay population comes to congregate along the shoreline with their respective families and if people say that the kampong days are gone - well, they're mistaken. all that's missing is a couple of running chickens and the fact that instead of attap houses, you have nylon tents that sprout suddenly like garish mushrooms. it's our malay blood answering the call of our orang laut roots!

anyhow, it was quite nice i suppose despite having to constantly worry about rain since the sky was dangerously grey and dim. food was good - think i undercooked prawns though, had a stomachache the next morning.

but yes, back to beach scenery!



what might the retreating wave reveal?



a washed-up cottony bra, of course!



or a rubber sandal.

but seriously though, as gross as the bra is, the beach does have some merits depending what kind of perspective you decide to take. sure, it's not brilliantly pretty, but what it lacks in sparkling marine wildlife, it makes up for..interesting litter. i say this with no sarcasm.


a massive entanglement of junk.
from the perspective of an art student, it's brilliant texture - wish i had got a sharper shot, but was pre-occupied with not getting camera wet, so!






I get annoyed by people sometimes who say with vehemence that Singapore is ugly. evidently, i disagree - there's a lot of beauty around here, you just need to be more open to the other definitions that it can take. not everything has to be sprawling pastoral lands or neo-classical architecture (hah i don't even know what neo-classical means!); our old and slightly mouldy hdb estates are beautiful in their own dank way, just like how the vines growing over construction boardings are beautiful as well.

like how there are actually TREES (ok, saplings) growing in the underground drains of matthew's hdb estate and that they peep through the metal gratings, or that the dandelions and small weeds growing by janice's estate cheer me up a lot more than the trimmed lawns of her neighbours. today while waiting for her, i was plucking the dandelions to uh, blow when i noticed a yellow stain on my fingers. turned out to be (i think) aphids! so queer - but they were brilliantly yellow with black spots.

there is beauty.

because we're camwhores.


really funny sticker. see this is what good street art/vandalism should be about!


It seemed that today was destined to be Hazri's Funny Face Day!









Guest starring our favourite kiwi(half)import - matthew crawshaw!



who can be perfectly normal, i swear.







quite an suggestive picture, if not for the camera in his hands. (darn!)

and because i really am quite inept when placed in front of the camera - when lacking in subtlety, blind them with dramatics!




would have gone all the way to the top if i knew i was already half way up - another time then!


not that you didn't know already, but just in case you need reminding...


it was quite funny, how skate-punk-mat went up to slightly gawky/geeky tourist and started an earnest conversation. hullo mat-skater who finally managed an ollie that night!

contrary to popular belief, our primary intention was not to camwhore (gasp!), but to see my cousin Dhaniah's band, My Writes, open for Mocca's gig at the Arts House.


Dhaniah and guitarist, uh, sean/shawn?


and the other guitarist, Zul!

#As seen in matthew's lj, but with some fiddling:

"It's a rock."
"I know."


LOVE THIS PHOTO MATTHEW CRAWSHAW. like, best ever, you with shaky hands.


*hugs hazri for taking such a nice photo of me*




What a lovely weekend.

i think i should mention that a few days ago, somebody returned My Lost Library Book.













singaporeans are lovely people!


i think it's odd and even silly of us people to be constantly oscillating from feeling fine, then being hit with an onslaught of loneliness. the crazy thing is that people feel this way, even when they circulate among enough social spheres to make up the solar system. you would think that we would have figured out by now that humans are inevitably quite alone as individuals and be okay with that - but of course the biggest joke in the universe is that we were made social creatures.

on another random note, unconditional love may be the highest form of love simply because it's the most difficult. not to obtain, since that is oddly, relatively quite accessible - but that unconditional love will stand, enduring all the resentment, anger and guilt that now and then surfaces, things that co-exist with love. it is crazy how we associate pain with greatness.

i think we're nuts.

and sometimes, sometimes, i found myself saying this on new year's eve to myself, i just want to be happy. not that i find currently find myself in torrid anguish and DESPAIR (haha, inside joke!), but i would like to be happy, in the simplest way. and maybe, because this would be nice for once, not have to think of other's happiness first. i am quite tired, rather.

i feel awful.

i've been reading this brilliant book called The Buddha-tree by Fumio Niwa and the author's observations and portrayal of human weakness, hypocrisy and religion is so deftly handled and if i do manage to get that lit S paper, this book would definitely be a book i'd critique.

except that i've lost it.

and it's a library book.

IT'S SO HORRID, I WAS (rather) UPSET THE WHOLE DAY. first of all, because it's a library book and it's going to cost so much to pay for it, and i will be paying for it cos i borrowed it on my brother's card. secondly, i haven't finished reading it! now i feel so incomplete and well, dangling. usually i wouldn't be so affected, save for the monetary aspect, but augh i want to know how it ends! the characters are formed so poignantly, i really love the japanese sense of aesthetics where everything is handled in a stoic manner, so quiet and dignified which only makes it more beautiful.

so much heart pain! just thinking about the book being on the dirty bus floor AUGH. i've never felt so heavy-hearted over a lost book before.

i've been lugging it around with me for some time and likewise, this morning on the way to school. on the bus, i fell asleep and suddenly! the uncle sitting beside me is furiously tapping my shoulder because woah i've reached school and all other felloe cjc students were filing out of the bus. very flustered and harried, i sprung up saying thankyouthankyouexcusemeexcuseme and got off the bus.

forgetting that the book was in my lap.

and no, i've already called SMRT - almost immediately - and they said the bus driver didn't find anything, nor had anyone returned it to the interchange counter. this, despite the fact that i had valuable information like knowing that i got off the bus at exactly 07:25. i suppose someone could have found it, the nice uncle maybe, and is on the way to returning it to a library near you? i hope so. do you think? so much heartache.

the worse thing is that the reason why i was so sleepy was because i was watching (finally!) The Talented Mr. Ripley the night before and i suppose this is very overdue but oh my, that movie is brilliant and painful and oh oh. so now, by an unfortunate habit, i'm going to always associate the movie with this loss.

<3-ache!

it's odd how a relatively trivial thing like losing a book can have this much emotional impact. is it trivial though?

you people don't tag anymore.

usually, this would make me quite sad but not this time round - and it's not because i've suddenly gained immense self-confidence and no longer need the assurance that: you like me, you really like me! the truth is simple.

FRANZ FERDINAND, HERE I COME!

also, it has dawned on me that i am quite mad, jumping into doing so many things at the same time when there's only one of me and 24 hours in a day. the problem is of course, i love it! it's crazy and insane but dear god help me, i feel most alive when i'm running around with a packed schedule and buzzing from all that multi-tasking. it's such a thrill, and is quite exciting.

even though in all that buzz, sometimes i feel like dying and i wonder: i am a giant macedamia. A HUGE NUT. and i start thinking like my mom, along the lines of shrill are you crazy?! you're going to burn out and come home exhausted everyday and just completely crash. which is completely true. then sometimes i think the voice in my head that is actually my mother is quite right as well, and i am tempted to take it easy, be like a normal person with some slack CCA and just stroll through school life without jumping at every door that opens and enthusiastically nodding YES I'LL DO IT, even though at the back of my mind, that very voice that is my mother is frantically gesticulating for me to say No.

my mother compares me to small cc engine. to continue that metaphor, she thinks i'm behaving like say, a Benz when i am in fact, a rusty old Toyota Starlet. Which by the way, in the very like event that i will not be able to afford a 1957 Volkswagon Beetle, will be my car of choice. it's a very boxy little car, usually smelly because it's second-hand and completely lacks the glamour that its name suggests. i find this very funny. i will name my car something along the lines of a atypical 1950s starlet as well, like Scarlett Davis.

A somewhat mandatory post for the new year. I would post pictures, but am too lazy and tired, it is 04:34AM. Do cross your fingers that the late night and lack of sleep will not cause me to trail into a rambling mass of sentimentality though strangely, i feel inclined to rambling today, or tonight, how can it be morning when it's not day? i am quite tired of being forcing myself to be so restrained in what is written here.

strange, that this attempt in achieving some degree of maturity means beginning to ignore or censoring what you really want to do, say or feel. i should have known that's what growing up is all about.

This year, was an emotional buffet.

Terribly brilliant, and brilliantly terrible - what was simply awesome was that it was incredibly intense, and here i am being Ms. Superlative again but maybe that was what the past 365 days were: a superlative year.

I loved it.

The year was great because of the EBS – simply because they were completely non-school related. Originating from CAP05, which was also brilliant in its odd and tedious way with its never-ending plenaries and not-too-great workshops but who cares when out of it, we had pseudo teeniegoth poetry, and actually WON the poetry reading contest with it (which says something about the latter in itself) and then there was the delirious sleepless nights (though Hazri would have to beg to differ on this point, since all he did was sleep) and the Adventures of Super-orgy Man and clover and cranberry <3 and I don’t know, that funny sperm whale that janice draws.

Then there were of course the sleepover/movie marathons – of which I missed half of the last one RAWR. But awesome nevertheless, and yes, life-changing what with brilliant movies watched and equally brilliant (though occasionally comatose) company.

Top 3 movies:
Old Boy
28 Days Later
Requiem For A Dream

Bottom Movies:
Monty Python's Holy Grail
Donnie Darko (admittedly, a cut version that caused it to suck, janice says. We believe her.)

AND ALL THAT CAMWHORING. more, please.

oh there are so many things i want to talk about but it really would be too long to chronicle everything and the only reason why there's a substantial chunk on the EBS is because i jotted it down earlier when i was thinking about making this post, please don't hate me, people i have neglected!

so here's what i'm going to do; a whole list of names, in no particular order, my own People of 2005. I know it's not exactly the Times magazine, or even a trashy but lovable and strangely alluring tabloid but yeah. If you spot your name, well, yay you!:
charmaine matthew gennie nadya hazri vincent janice zara jennifer jeremy steffi tash myPWgroup bern aini cjdebatepeople yasmin theslutposse cjdramapeople dhaniah anisha.

oh boy, that was a briefer list than anticipated.

and yet it doesn't quite do any justice to all the things that are behind those names and why they're there. like for zara, because you're one of my closest friends in cj and i can really talk to you and wouldn't know what to do without you and hey, look! i'm writing what i meant to put it your christmas card that i never got around to making (sorry) but anyhow, it's lovely to have someone to obsess over art materials with (BATTERY-OPERATED ERASER ZOMG) without getting weird stares from other people and telling you about my paranoia and vice-versa and never feeling the fear of being judged as a complete psychopath because i know you understand and thank you for that, you are the nicest person i've ever known and i think you managed to make me nicer, somehow. love you muchly.

and gennie, even though you flew off to canada and have to yourself haagen daz in your school cafetaria while i stare with much melancholy at sad, dismal sugar donuts, i'm glad we're still friends and we've come a long way baby! it's amazing that after all these years, we can still meet up and still make sense in the same wavelenghth.

cjdebatepeople, even though none of you read this, save for the inactive nadya (haha), well, you're in that list because debating was just intense and made me want to die and i spent those dark dark times with you guys, and came out of it still liking all of you despite my nasty habit to lump unpleasant events with the people that came along with it so hurrah! glad that we were sharing the same leaky boat.

charmaine! why wouldn't you be there in that list? in all fully meant cheesiness - best friends forever. even though you never tag. tag! i think that phonecall just about redeemed all the distance and drifting we had this year, thank you.

oh this is horrid i'm falling into that overused pattern of short tributes for almost everybody - i think what we can learn from this is that if i ever win an award, it'll be a long speech i'll be giving and they'll probably take away my newly-loved plastic, gilted statuette and ruin my $15 This Fashion dress by pelting me with assorted fruit. if it helps do stock up on fruits i like: raspberries and cranberries. which brings me to the first person i converted into cranberry<3 - matthew. you wouldn't think i would actually write a whole Chronicles of 2005 without a proper mention of you, did you? So, to the person who still annoys me almost as much as he did when we weren't really friends, but somehow i put up with it (i.e. being so anal, stubborn, sometimes cranky, being perpetually busy) because we are friends now, and great ones at that and this should be a cue for some epic and dramatic soundtrack, because this year was that, wasn't it? It's an odd way to put it and i don't quite mean it in a blase way, but in addition to everything else: it's been nice talking. And i'm not only being nice because i owe you money. Damn.




So here's to 2006!

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.