Musings of an Ingenue 2

2007-03-29T18:30:00.000+08:00

Do you believe I forgot about you?

In fact, I don't think anybody I know comes here anymore.

I'm much =) now.

It's just to say Hi.

2006-08-20T23:18:00.000+08:00

Today, I thought of surfing Friendster and I found someone's profile.

They look good together. Even though his status says "In a Relationship" and hers read "Single" for the first time in a long while.

Now I know what FnF means.

On a sidenote, I hate the feeling of insecurity and being left in the dark.

They are first his friends before they're my friends. That's the order of the hierarchy here.

I will get over it. This whole damn thing.

2006-06-19T00:32:00.000+08:00

I think I've discovered another side of me which isn't exactly the best trait to possess.

I believe in holding on. Hanging in there. Sticking it out.

It's like this job opportunity which is happening right now. In my mind, it's not exactly something I'll drop everything for right this instant. So I decide to stay where I am. And wait. For the best.

It's the same for my relationships.

Maybe actually I am the world's biggest fool. No doubt about it.

2006-06-09T00:35:00.000+08:00

Random thought of the day:

Maybe women want to get married so that they can have a rock they can call their own (without paying for it, of course). The bigger, the better.

I made a major boo-boo when I commented that a particular colleague's diamond ring from her boyfriend/fiancee isn't that big after all. In her face. How stupid can I get? Yes, I'm not proud of it.

Everyone around me seems to be on the idea of rocks, rings and marriage lately.

It doesn't help that I seriously don't know much about rings and diamonds. The only jewellery I know are from Perlini's and the odd Tiffany & Co. And they're both silver.

Diamonds? I just know that they look good.

What's clarity? Cut? Carat?

I have no idea which diamond is the biggest. Which is probably why I said what I said. I could have been staring at a freakin' 10-carat diamond ring and I won't even realise it's like freakin' 10-carat.

I only know a solitaire when I see one 'cos it's the easiest one to identify. Like a lone island out in the vast ocean. Nice.

One of my closest buds from my JC class is getting married. In July. In Hong Kong. And it was planned only 2 months before D-Day. You get the idea.

An ex-colleague is planning her ROM this year.

I heard that another colleague is planning his wedding too.

Strange. I still think these people are like adults wearing diapers, we're too young to be talking about marriage. And wedding rings.

2006-06-03T13:29:00.000+08:00

I lost my motivation a long time ago and I don't know how to retrieve it.

She's right. I have no goals in life now.

And that is why I am perpetually unhappy.

Because there's nothing to be happy about.

I need to get out and start afresh.

Remaining at where I am is akin to not doing anything for myself, not improving the situation and being perpetually "stuck in the rut".

It may not be true that I'll be any happier if I leave this place, but I think it's worth a shot.

Because it's not just about leaving a job, it's a metamorphosis of sorts.

I want to leave the old self behind. The past. Him.

I want to say hello.

2006-05-25T23:19:00.000+08:00

Happy Birthday to you.

I hope you're happy. I really do.

"我在幸福的门外　
却一直都进不来"

2006-05-25T00:24:00.000+08:00

Remember my last post?

It happened.

Again. And again.

Men over 30 leaving messages on my Friendster.

I shouldn't have started that test in my mind. The results are frighteningly skewed.

I wanna die.

Give me a child! I'm actually a closet paedophile.

2006-05-18T00:33:00.000+08:00

I am conducting a test in my mind and the results so far have been disgustingly astonishing.

Every once in a while, like so many of you out there, I receive messages from strangers via Friendster saying something along the lines of "Hi, I'll like to be your friend, etc.. Pls add me to your msn/friendster..." and then I go click on the guy's profile 'cos of course I'm curious as to how this guy looks like right? and then I see his age on his profile and I look at his face in his photo and 99% of the time the guy is close to 30 or above 30 and does look white-collar middle-aged. and every single time I have something close to a seizure because my mind tells me that there's something about me that's attracting guys who are O-L-D.

And of course that gives me a perfectly legitimate reason to ignore these men because they insult me by being so old.

And then I think - Could it be because maybe I'm a 24 year-old who looks *gasp* looks *hyper-ventilates* O-L-D?

What the fuck.

I should change all the photos in my profile to Chicken Little's.

That way, I'll attract guys closer to my age.

2006-05-10T12:56:00.000+08:00

Did you catch the interview with MR G on the English news channel last night?

I wasn't even sure if it was him until he started rattling off on the infamous form all over again. I thought what I saw instead was a doe-eyed deer caught with his eyes in the oncoming headlights.

Crash and burn, baby.

Pardon me, I'm not exactly pro-ruling party. Like all others, I believe in free speech, loosening of controls, a healthy mix of parties in our political system, and I'm definitely all against rising costs and all that moolah that's feeding them.

But - This entire Mr G saga is nothing short of a farce.

Sure, you might say, it's just a missing form and most people feel sorry for him that he's having to face the music for a MISSING FORM, nothing else. I would have voted for him if all he did after that was to come out and say, "I was an ass, blur like sotong, I kept the form without knowing what I did, I was an ass, I was an ass (to the power of 10), now if only everyone can move on".

The way I see it, he was a complete fool and no way am I going to place my vote on someone who's an idiot and does not have the guts to admit he was an idiot after being an idiot. I mean, c'mon, his own party did not have any explanation for what he did. Which goes to show the stupidity of it all.

Again, I'm not saying that everyone in the ruling party are genuises. But at least none of them has gotten themselves into trouble because of a MISSING FORM. Really.

Integrity is something that's always contestable. You can't pinpoint someone to the slaughter because he wasn't honest about a piece of document. To use those high and mighty terms in something as dirty as politics is being, well, phony. Unless you were really brought up in an ivory tower that tells you there's only goodness in this world and shuts you from the real evil around you, I can't believe anyone can sincerely cross their hearts and say that politicians are people of high moral integrity. Woe begone to you, if that's the case.

My point out of this almost pointless post is this - If you have to try anything dirty, even attempt it, for whatever reasons, do it so well that nobody catches you in the act. Because I'm looking at someone who's smart and effective to successfully lead an opposition against the mighty fortress, not a martyr about to be hanged a la Guy Fawkes. Which is only a good idea if your aim is to be commemorated in a film 400 years later.

Remember, Remember the Fifth of November
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot
I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot

2006-05-09T18:13:00.000+08:00

I started paying more attention to Gilmore Girls reruns on tv because of him.

And slowly, I found out that I did enjoy Rory's quirky way of speech, Lorelai's paranoia and how their sharp retorts at one another (mother against mother, mother against daughter, daughter against mother) intrigued me.

I like how Rory styles her hair - brown, straight and sleek.

I like how both mother and daughter pull off demure frilly tops with such ease, as if it's second skin.

I like the producer's hidden stab at alliteration - there's Lorelai, Luke and recently, Rory's boyfriend, Logan.

I find that I'm beginning to like the sound of the name Lorelai so much that I'm considering a toss-up between Evey and Lorelai for my own daughter's name. It's a tough fight though. Evey is such a cool name for a girl and the image of Natalie Portman with a shaved head is imprinted so strongly on my mind.

Luke still holds the crown for top favourite name for a boy - not because of Luke in Gilmore Girls, but because of THAT other more famous Luke with a light-sabre.

And now. If he knows I enjoy Gilmore Girls as much as him.

2006-05-08T05:13:00.000+08:00

I'm blogging because I'm wide awake at 5.10am in the morning.

I woke up earlier at around 4plus am, couldn't get back to sleep after and decided I needed to brush my teeth, wash my face, prep my skin and cut my nails (both fingers and toes), in that order. I don't know of anyone who does all that at 4 in the morning other than me.

That must have been my punishment for falling asleep at 10pm earlier (an insanely early time for me).

Already, I'm thinking of excuses for not turning up at work in a few hours. Yawn.

My tummy's giving me a hard time now because I had a super big dinner at Fish n Co despite not having a bite to eat the whole day. This was what I had - 1 Fish n Chips (shared), 1 Seafood Platter for 2 (shared) and 1 big glass of Passion Fruit drink (all to myself), on top of glasses of iced water. I felt like dying at the end of the meal.

That was our indulgence. Both of us have had nothing to eat the whole day and all we did was curl up in bed falling in and out of sleep, getting into each other's way in the process. We agreed that we were both torturing our bodies - sleeping at insane hours (6am in the morning), not getting adequate sleep, skipping meals, and eating a huge meal at one go.

I understand now how some people choose to get off from work and just sleep the whole day and why it's such a great fat luxury. Except it was Sunday and there was no work.

2006-04-29T23:05:00.000+08:00

Where I really want to be is somewhere other than here. Maybe Mexico. Or a little south of Mexico. Or a little further to the right south of Mexico. Yah maybe that's about right now.

He said he's leaving for a holiday over the weekend. Needless to say, with her. I didn't ask where. All I said was, have a safe trip, enjoy and take care. I can be so damn fake.

The partying on Friday helped a little. Although at the moment when I read his sms and immediately after I'd replied, I really felt like just shouting at the top of my lungs. Which I did. In the karaoke room. I need distractions 24/7.

I want to go on a holiday too.

2006-04-24T23:35:00.000+08:00

Leaving seems to be the trendy thing to do these days.

An old friend left for Bahrain to pursue her dream of being an air-stewardess. She's contracted to stay there for 2 years, and maybe the soonest we'll get to see her is half a year from now.

Although half of me thought the idea of her leaving to stay in the Middle East is crazy, for a pay that's not exactly what you would call attractive, or prospects that are not potentially sky-high; the other half of me admires her courage to just give it up here and leave at the same time.

It's not that easy to just pack your bags and leave. Sometimes, it may even defy all reason.

Except passion.

The only thing that perseveres at the end of the day is passion.

And I'm still trying to figure out if passion can be cultivated.

I'm still working at it.

I have zero passion for my job but I work at it continually, giving it bursts of passion like periodic jabs at the doctor's.

At other times, I just block out everything and WORK. Yes, I do function like a robot sometimes.

But everyday, I tell myself that I will find a way to get out. Nobody understands the degree of excitement that I crave right now.

And yes, passion can be cultivated.

I know because I'm still doing it for him right now.

2006-04-19T22:20:00.000+08:00

I'm so drained, it's unbelievable.

Shedding tears has always taken alot out of me. Each time, I feel emptied, hung out to dry like a wet towel, and it always makes me want to just cuddle in bed and zonk out.

Like now.

Seeing her sob was like the straw that broke the camel's back, i.e. it triggered a chain reaction in me.

I know we were hysterical, we even scared one or two people, but we'll be fine tomorrow. I'm always fine tomorrow.

They can't understand why we reacted the way we did, it all seemed too emotional for them to swallow. I admit it was overboard, but I totally understand her mixed emotions. As for me, I have no defence at all because we will still get to see each other, it's not like Armageddon, you know.

Can they understand when I say that I feel left behind? No, I don't think so.
Like everyone you know has moved on but you're still stuck behind, because your shoe got caught in a rut on the ground and unless you leave your shoe behind, you're trapped there until someone rescues you. And you don't know how long that might be. A few hours, maybe days, months? You don't know whether you can survive that long in one piece. On the other hand, it could be your favourite pair of shoes at stake here, like a pair of Ferragamos or something, and you're caught in a dilemma because you know, no girl can bear to leave her Ferragamos behind. So what do you do? Stay or forsake something in order to move on?

OK, that was a crazy analogy, but you know, only to bring the point across.

And everyone who knows my position in the workplace is telling me to stay, to persevere, because they say I've got a future here, I can go far. I can do so much more.

And I know they're right.

It does not make the problem any easier. I've been thinking about it until my brains are fried.

All I want to do is get a good sleep.

2006-04-16T03:10:00.000+08:00

It's 3am Saturday night into Sunday morning (however way you want to see it).

I haven't decided if I should try to make it for the Easter Sunday service at o63ohrs Sunday.

It's too freaking early.

-But- I made it for the Good Friday service on (when else) Friday. *pats back*

A sea of old faces, some of which I feel nothing, for nothing, anymore. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

Again, I played the part of social chameleon that night.

Made earnest small talk, appeared attentive and interested, even made it seem like I might just come back to church on a regular basis. Oh yah.

But, I will not deny that I enjoyed a good moment that night. Even had it enough in me to pray for a friend as I sat in the pews sharing a quiet moment with God. As usual, I omitted praying for myself. It was pointless.

Although I was reasonably touched, and would certainly like to believe that there was someone out there (human or entity) that genuinely loved and cared for my goodness and wellbeing, enough to make the sacrifice of death for me, I am still disillusioned.

Because of everything I have gone through and all that have yet to come, I now only believe in one thing. What I can do for myself. Which no one else can.

There will be none who will sincerely love me without selfishness. Maybe God. But even that is uncertain.

I have only me.

Happy Easter Sunday, everyone.

2006-04-07T17:15:00.000+08:00

I bumped into a ghost of my past.

He was going down the escalator, I was going up.

He called out my name in his deep bass voice.

I didn't recognise the voice, but the face, the face, it was a ghost from my past.

A face which used to be so familiar to me, like a grinning Jack O' Lantern in Halloween.

Now, I have trouble remembering its unique features, the huge teethful smile, the squinting eyes.

It was certainly an unexpected event, one of those moments which made you wonder about its significance, even if it was purely coincidental.

And then the past came flying back to me, moments of distress and heartbreak, when everything failed to make sense.

If only everything went the other way. Things would have been perfect; not like this, no. If only.

2006-04-02T13:12:00.000+08:00

BECAUSE OF YOU

I lose my way
And it's not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because you know that's weakness in your eyes
I'm forced to fake
A smile, a laugh everyday of my life
My heart can't possibly break
When it wasn't even whole to start with

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I watched you die
I heard you cry every night in your sleep
I was so young
You should have known better than to lean on me
You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry in the middle of the night
For the same damn thing

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I try my hardest just to forget everything
Because of you
I don't know how to let anyone else in
Because of you
I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty
Because of you
I am afraid

Because of you
Because of you

***

I don't know which is worse. Being stranded or being forced to leave.

I don't know how many times I've said it, but I WANT TO ESCAPE! I REALLY REALLY DO!

All the reasons are present before me, to remain where I am, and I have no defence against them except a feeble emotional response. C'mon, be practical now, the inner voice drones.

And HE said to me, "Control your feelings. It's just a job". As usual, in his eyes, I'm being impractical. Making a mountain out of a molehill.

But what I really need is, for someone, anyone, to say this to me: it's OK to go, you'll be fine, there's no need to worry. Just do it if that's what makes you happy.

And then I'll be happy.

2006-03-29T23:32:00.000+08:00

I'm feeling very low now.

Two of my best friends made me tear on two separate occasions today. In a way that I totally did not expect.

And you know what? I can't even blog about it because I can't let it out of the bag yet.

This sucks. Big-time.

I hate it that I'm such a good-for-nothing, and let these things get to me so easily. I just hate it that I'm so freaking emotional, sentimental and all that emo crap. Enough! Stop it! You're not a kid anymore! Grow up!

I'm supposed to stick to my grand masterplan of self-detachment, to master the ultimate skill of emotional self-control and practise just one and one emotion only - indifference.

I'm supposed to have locked my heart and not let *anyone* get to me again. Ever. Whatever happened to that?

If there's ever anything that I really learnt about life and growing up, it's that at the end of the day, it's just so hard to find one person who will be there and stick by your side no matter what.

Because life is all about separation. Only when.

I will be alright tomorrow.

2006-03-28T00:36:00.000+08:00

I got promoted.

Clap clap hooray hooray clap clap.

I guess it's supposed to be a joyous event but the truth is, I wasn't the least bit exhilarated when it happened. It was more like, yah thanks *looks around not knowing what to do*, hum hum dum-di-dum.

And then I felt the need to tell everybody who has been more or less concerned about how I've been getting along at work, and that includes the jc clan, the ahs gals, the ex, the uni bunch, my parents, and then before long, it seemed like too many people to tell, too much trouble.

Congrats, congrats.

Treat, treat, treat.

Too.much.trouble.

2006-03-21T23:45:00.000+08:00

These days, I'm trying to put on my best behaviour at work.

It's like the lull before a storm, the calm before the fall. If the ending is what I expected it to be, I want to leave on a good note. No bad behaviour.

So I may just be that extra bit helpful at work these days. Make full use of it. It won't last long.

***

And for the first time, I'm gonna lodge a formal complaint against a cab driver. Hell, against anyone, for that matter.

He caught me at a bad time, when I'm dying to get home after a long day, I've had enough of travelling and it's that time of the month so my back is hurting me, which means I have back pain + PMS = dangerous woman please stay clear

And the most important thing is, I really do think he was in the wrong.

And because I have had enough of inequity in a world that is seriously on its way to eternal damnation (me included), I just have to make that complaint, ugly Singaporean or not, we'll all burn in hell together, allelujah.

'Cos you know what? I'm sick of all this shit. I really am.

2006-03-16T00:35:00.000+08:00

It was just crazy, I caught 3 movies in 2 days. Capote, Walk The Line and The Constant Gardener, the last 2 of which I'm very glad to have caught before their run in the cinemas ended.

Capote was slow and draggy, I seriously advise against you watching it unless you're OK with slow, draggy arty-farty films and if you're a pretty big fan of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

By the way, on a sidenote, he will also be starring in the upcoming Mission Impossible 3.

I truly enjoyed Walk The Line. Maybe because I find dark, brooding characters like Joaquin Phoenix's attractive. I like it that someone has had a past, and maybe because deep down, I can relate to the messed-up character that is Johnny Cash. I like it that he is so perfectly imperfect. And I can't think of a better character to portray this than Joaquin Phoenix (even Johnny Depp would not have cut such a fine figure for this role), him with his slurred speech and crooked smile. And they both sing so damn fine, him and Reese Witherspoon.

I thought The Constant Gardener a mild disappointment. It was so signaturely Fernando Meirelles in the colour and cinematography, as well as the social themes involved (bordering on poverty and/or morality issues), but yet, it did not strike me as strongly nor as beautifully as his previous film, City of God. The colours seem that bit weaker, the cuts more hurried, less involvement on the part of the native African actors in the picture, less engaging a storyline, and less impressive a lead actor in Ralph Fiennes. In short, the impact of the movie was lost on me. That is not to say that it is not a film worth watching though. On its own, minus whatever pre-conceived notions and expectations that you may have, it is still a rather commendable effort to explore the theme of corporate corruption on disadvantaged third-world nations. But it just didn't really do it for me (maybe I was too tired to focus on the film, I do not know).

I still have 3 more films to catch - V for Vendetta, Transamerica and Crash.

I am hoping something will blow me away. None of it has yet.

2006-03-12T18:29:00.000+08:00

I finally caught Munich.

Honestly, I wasn't impressed. Although I do think that Eric Bana gave a commendable performance. But I'm not particularly impressed with Steven Spielberg's direction, just like in War of the Worlds. I think his movies always turn out extremely watchable because he has great material to work with in the first place, an opportunity that does not come easily to other lesser known directors. But he always fails to give me that extra oopmh, that extra kick that tells me this film is great because the director's vision is perfectly executed. Oh well.

And I'm happy now because I've got someone to watch Capote with. On Tuesday.

I know what I'm going to say next sounds crazy but it's just so hard to find someone suitable to catch a movie with these days,especially when it comes to obscure, alternative films like Capote, for instance. Everyone may be dying to catch Mission Impossible 3 and X-Men 3, but ask the same people to watch Crash or V for Vendetta and it's like hitting your head against a brickwall.

I've found out that not everyone likes to watch intense, heavy-duty films, those that require a fair amount of brainwork (read: concentration) and are far from being labelled as "entertaining". I never used to have this problem because my ex watched every single movie I wanted to watch with me for years, even when we were no longer together. He may not share the same insights as me but at least, I'm not dragging a bull by its horns to go watch these movies with me.

And then I thought I had found the perfect partner when it comes to sharing personal insights on movies with - someone who knows even more than I do about the technicalities behind each scene in Tim Burton's Corpse Bride, who is as eager as me to catch The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and who will never say something along the lines of "Lord of the Rings was way better", but instead "I'm glad that it does not look like it's gonna be another LOTR", someone who understands my point of view when I say that Star Wars Episode 2 didn't do it for me because it was "neither here nor there", and how we both relished the last episode so much more.

I thought I had found that perfect someone. Guess maybe I never did, because you were never mine to begin with.

And now I think I have finally woken up from this reverie.

2006-03-12T02:40:00.000+08:00

The urge to simply leave is stronger than ever.

I'm hoping to clinch a new job which requires me to work overseas, I'll pack my bags and leave in a flash so long as the place in question isn't a shithole like Hong Kong.

Now, I've half a mind to wait for my bonus, do the ultimatum and just escape from it all here. I'll go somewhere where there're friends, maybe somewhere like Sydney, and just hole up with them, leeching off their apartment for as long as I can. Who knows how long I can do this for, a month, maybe two?

I can't say why, but there's just this incredible urge to get out of wherever I am, and that includes my job, my home, even the people I know and have always known my whole life. I want out of everything.

Now, if only money isn't such an issue.

I hate rich kids sometimes, I really do.

2006-03-05T19:55:00.000+08:00

One day I'll fly away
Leave all this to yesterday
Why live life from dream to dream?
And dread the day when dreaming ends

-- Satine, Moulin Rouge

One day I'll be able to say this.

Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love.

In the real world, there is none like Christian. And I am no Satine.

2006-03-04T20:41:00.000+08:00

I have the weirdest conversations with my mum over the phone sometimes.

This time, she thinks I puked in the lift last night, am suffering from gastric, and I dunno what else. I am thinking she secretly suspects I'm suffering from bulimia, but am just too polite to say it.

There must be something wrong with a relationship that takes place more over the phone than in person, when both people are living under the same roof.

I do feel bad. However nonchalant I appear at times.

I feel bad for not talking to her enough sometimes. Women need alot of attention, especially mothers. And being a woman, I do know that.

***

And I've decided that I really really do not like MOS. Even though it's being greatly raved about and the numbers keep heading there.

It's always so overcrowded (especially in Smoove), the people look funny and the music's not exactly exciting. And I don't get what's the craze over Pure. So what if the room's totally white? People who go there simply look like they're in bed at their own homes, all zonked out and washed out. Go home and sleep if you want to, stop hogging the sofas and cushions.

And we met quite alot of strange people there last night. It was hilarious, but I felt so sorry for my male colleague who had to endure the girl who could stare us down with her dagger look. Well, what to do, it's like this, the perils of being a good-looking dude (I can so sympathize). Hiak hiak.

Speaking of good-lookers, there were ALOT of those in Phuture on Wed nite. Both guys and girls. For once, I was seriously impressed. We ended up clubbing till the lights were out, and even made some new friends.

But, despite all this, I know I'm never going to fall in love with clubbing. Sure, it's a great diversion, and a great way to meet new people (especially if you're a girl 'cos the guys do all the work), and occasionally, it's a great way to relax after a shit-week of work, but at the end of the day, it's just that - clubbing.

Once the lights are up and the alcohol's done it's work, it's back to reality.

2006-03-02T18:29:00.000+08:00

We give up many times because letting go seems the right thing to do

--- Atomic Symphony

If you were me, would you let go or would you hold on?

They say love is patient, love is kind. Love perseveres.

So if it's true love, I wouldn't let go. I'll wait, even if it makes no sense for me to wait, even if he doesn't want me to wait, even if he doesn't know I'm waiting. Simply because I have this conviction within me, because I need to know for myself what I'm capable of doing with this love; simply because this was what I wanted most out of this life - to experience love for what it truly is. And maybe, love means waiting. And patience. Holding out and holding on.

Or is it letting go that truly defines love? Some say that if you love someone, you'll let the person go, as long as he's happy. Yes, maybe that means I'll let him go physically, but this love, it'll stay with me, we'll be entwined within each other and I'll never let it go. Because by letting go, am I belittling this powerful thing that I have within me? Am I belittling this love, and what it's capable of giving?

Jesus taught me that love means sacrifice. That's the only lesson I choose to believe up till today.

I still have not decided.

2006-03-01T00:08:00.000+08:00

He gave me a CD.

Although I know full well that he was broke, and had insisted that he burned me a copy instead.

But being the usual stubborn him, he conveniently bought a new piece and presented it to me on Monday, like he promised.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I don't have additional speakers attached to my PC, so the volume's really soft and I have to strain my ears each time I listen to any audio CD that he gives me. I also could not bring myself to tell him that I have never owned a discman, nor a CD player.

And after all that he has done, deep inside of me, I know that it's really not a big deal, he's merely trying his best to be a good friend, and doing what he thinks may help me.

And sometimes, sometimes, during the rare times when I'm lucid and my head rules over my heart, I get the nagging feeling at the back of my mind that it's better things were like this between us after all -- pseudo-close friends, nothing more.

Because if things were different, I know I would always be the caregiver in the relationship. Always. And maybe, that's just not the best thing for me.

2006-02-27T19:05:00.000+08:00

She to Me: You love too deep.

Me to Her: And not myself enough.

***

Some "unauthorised personnel" have been reading my blog lately.

I'm particular about people I know reading my blog. Some of my best friends do not even have the link to this space until very recently. Some of them do not even know about it at all.

It's not that I mind sharing my thoughts with the world in general, after all, I chose to post them on a blog which technically, is on the www and nothing on the www is, or ever can be, private.

But the thing is, I do not appreciate the modus operandi. If you're genuinely interested in delving into the intricacies of my mind, ask like you would for anything you want from a friend. Do not snatch as if you are a bandit. Oh, but I forget, the person in question has never mastered the art of social courtesy in the first place, don't we all know that (i.e. take first ask later).

And the worst thing which truly pisses me off? You parade and act around others as if you have attained some special access to a private event which only you have been given, and which was how I found out that you have this site address in the first place.

What can the next worst thing be, pray tell?

You or anyone else acting as if you know me freaking well just because you read my freakin' blog. Well, get this straight. You only know what I choose to write. So if you believe every single shit that I write in here and equate it to the one true me, or worse, create your own false conclusions about me, God help you.

Some people are such idiots, really.

***

Got this from a fellow blogger and friend. Dunno why, but it reminds me of the infamous Sudoku game that's a huge craze right now. Try it.

http://kevan.org/johari?name=musingsofaningenue

2006-02-21T17:50:00.000+08:00

Sometimes we imagine our relationships to be more meaningful than they really are

--- Desperate Housewives

I caved in and declared MC today even though I have a meeting with several TLs scheduled in the afternoon.

I think that signals the point of no return.

It's not like I'm very very ill, all I have is a headache, aches all over my body, a blocked nose, and an overwhelmingly intense notion not to get out of bed. So yah, an MC.

Speaking of which, I ended up only waking at 4pm in the afternoon. Kudos to me.

I think that I am so very sick and tired of my work and the situation that I’m in that I am rebelling in ways that are subconscious even to me.

***

This is totally unrelated, but for the first time in my entire msn-using life, I have a strong urge to put someone on the “Block” list.

It’s because here I am trying my best to blog, which isn’t easy considering I had just woken up and am feeling groggy and sedated, and someone keeps trying to have an online conversation with me.

He so does not get the hint that I am simply not interested in talking to him. Even though I am currently on “Away” mode or “Busy” mode. BUSY, you get it? What’s it with men? I’m a weirdo magnet even at age 24. God help me.

Speaking of weirdo men, I had an encounter with one last Friday outside Zouk.

I was with my colleagues and as usual, we were standing around debating on our next course of life at the taxi stand.

So there I was, in another dimension of the universe as usual (i.e. stoning), whilst they decide where to head to next, and suddenly, this angmoh appears in front of me and blocks my vision of the line of taxis with their blinking lights.

I was enjoying the moment, just staring into the blinking lights and not thinking about anything in particular (i.e. stoning) but no, he has to get in front of me and start asking a train of strange questions, such as, am I heading to Jurong (which I replied no), where am I heading to (probably the east, I said), is anybody in the group heading to Jurong (no, I don’t think so), was I in Zouk just now (no, Velvet), will I be in Zouk next Friday (no, I don’t think so), where do I usually go, MOS or Zouk (neither), blah blah blah.

And then his friend appears, which is a really fortunate thing, and it looks like they will be hopping into the next available cab (a definite fortunate thing by now), and I thought I would be rid of entertaining a weird angmoh stranger who keeps staring straight into my eyes during the entire weird exchange.

And then just when I’d thought that this was all over but waddaya know, he manages to appear mysteriously behind me again (without a sound), which utterly spooked me and I told him that in his face, you-gave-me-a-fright, to which he again smiled that spooky smile of his.

And this time, he tries to stuff his namecard into my open bag.

And I had thought that angmohs are supposed to be way better than local men at picking up women, a stereotype I know, but so what, ‘cos this one here proved the stereotype wrong once and for all.

Speaking of which, I ought to google for his company.

The above incident merely served to convince me beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am a weirdo magnet.

I am so not proud of that. So don’t you dare laugh when you read this. Yes, I mean you.

2006-02-20T16:23:00.000+08:00

I hate my job.

Somebody just kill me.

I feel like chewing off somebody's arm right now. Grrr.

2006-02-19T00:48:00.000+08:00

Everyday, I tell myself that I am on the road to recovery.

That I am slowly but surely getting over him.

But then again, all it takes is for something small to happen, and it proves me otherwise.

Like him turning up late for a dinner which you had painstakingly planned for you and your friends.

Like him telling your girlfriend on the day of planned dinner that he will have to leave early that night. As with all other nights.

You still get upset that he no longer goes home together with you, no longer offers to send you home like the way he used to.

All it takes is for you to remember that the 2 of you aren't talking as much as you used to, and the tears return again.

Does this mean that even the old friendship can't sustain?

Human relationships are just so so fragile.

And in the words of someone in a similar plight, it's just so ironic that your greatest joy and happiness, and your greatest sorrow and pain, stems from the one same source.

And after all this, he tells you that he's still your friend.

You're not quite sure if you believe him.

2006-02-14T17:25:00.000+08:00

An SMS convo:

Me to Her: What happened, gal? You sound upset.
Her to Me: Don't worry. Love is nothing.
Me to Her: Love is everything, gal. It's the only thing that keeps us going in this world. Love, and the hope of love. Without these, we are nothing.

I am so surprised I actually said those words.
And this convo made me recall what a fellow blogger wrote:

What keeps us going?
Love.
What if there's no love?
The hope of love.
What if there's no hope?

Yes, what if there's no hope? That's when you drop dead into a well, like me.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

And just for the record, I plucked up my guts to sms him a happy valentine's message at 9.35pm tonight.

I know it's only a small step, but I'm making my way through a snowstorm.

2006-02-13T23:13:00.001+08:00

"God, I wish I knew how to quit you"

--- Jack Twist to Ennis Del Mar
--- Me to You

***

Brokeback Mountain is gawddamn brilliant.

It may be too slow for some, but it's perfect for me. I simply love its understated, subdued sense of longing, passion and desire. There's hardly any confrontational scenes between the lovers (just one in the entire movie), and I like that. That nothing explodes big-time in your face, but when it happens, it moves you because its true nature is weak and powerless - the exact spirit of a lonely, suppressed soul.

I'm not sure if I buy into the "it's simply a love story" shit; the way I see it, sexual passion and love are irreconcilable in this episode. In almost everything, I guess.

Which makes me think.

Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist are on the pathway to no return after one night of released pent-up desire culminating in intense physical pleasure. And like an addiction, they can't run away from it.

Me? I'm not sure if there was ever an "us" to begin with, and there's definitely no sexual tension to speak of; I'm not in love with the dude because he turns me on the right way.

Why then can't I quit him?

It makes everything, all this that I have, a joke.

2006-02-11T14:27:00.000+08:00

"On bad days, I lie in bed and think of things that might have been"

--- Paul Simon, Slip Sliding Away

Suddenly I realise that I've been afraid for far too long.

I've possibly been afraid of so many things, for such a long time, that unknowingly, I've turned into this person whom I've grown to dislike, and even God-forbid, loathe.

All this whilst the other more natural, more loveable side of me is not surfacing, the way it should be. I've managed to suppress her with all of my fears, it's like she's trapped in a 10m-deep well that she can't climb her way out of. You've got to surf through all the few hundred channels of cable tv just to find that specific one to lure her out of the tv screen.

And I have to admit, these 2 gals know which buttons on the remote control to push for me. I like how I am so much so much more likeable (to myself, especially) whenever I'm with them. Somehow, for some strange reason, they unwittingly manage to bring out that rare side of me whom even I secretly adore sometimes.

This is the me who takes things lightly, who always cracks others up, who acts like a kid and mock-pouts and mock-sulks. This is the me who's cheeky and who's not afraid to goof up. This is the me who plays with soft toys and talks to them and imagines I'm them and doesn't find anything wrong with it. This is the me who grabs at people and force-hugs them if I can. This is the me who's not afraid to look silly, to look ugly; who's not afraid about whether the colour of her top matches her skirt and what's so-and-so gonna say about it, this is the me who is just plain me, myself and I.

In other words, they possibly bring out this better side of me which even I did not know had it in me.

Without them, I would not have known that I'm capable of behaving in this bimbotic fashion, capable of making fun of my situation and my depression, capable of simply not being afraid to speak my mind and not afraid of people judging me in whichever manner. Capable of every gawddawn single thing.

And that's when I realise: with him, I'm always afraid.

I'm afraid of ~~101~~ 1001 things when it comes to him - afraid of how he'll view me if I tell him that yes, I do get jealous when you're too chummy with my best friend, afraid to let him know that I'm insecure to the power of 100,000, afraid to show him just how often I think about him all the time, afraid to speak badly, behave inappropriately, curse and swear in front of him, afraid to show him all my bad points and display them like deck cards on a table. I'm.plain.freaking.afraid.all.the.time.

And the thing is, I did not use to be like this in front of him.

I was that same childlike character (even more so) because he brought out the best in me. And then, I don't know exactly how or when I did it, but I killed her and buried her in the well myself.

And you know what? He probably liked the before me much better than the after me. I wouldn't blame him. Not one bit.

And so I've decided, it's about time to end the charade and get over all these fears.

I'll start being more comfortable with being myself, start getting used to wearing my emotions on my sleeves when I'm around him, even start to stop pretending how much I care about him in front of him. I have to face my fears and face up to my emotions. I have to stop being a plain ~~puss~~ wuss.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll even start becoming happier. Because now, I like myself better.

Each time I forget anything that I've written here, someone please slap me.

2006-02-06T23:37:00.000+08:00

I think "happy" is a word that is greatly overused.

Eating home-cooked meals makes one happy.

Reading an awesome, insightful book makes me happy.

Enjoying good times with great friends most probably makes you happy.

Seeing that smile on his face and that sparkle in his eye makes even me happy.

Until soon enough, happy isn't sufficient a word to describe all that you're feeling anymore.

What's beyond happy and the simple pleasures in life that make you happy?

What word do you substitute to refer to that level of happiness beyond mere happiness? What do you call that feeling?

That's what's lacking in my life. Not merely being unhappy or not happy.

Have we grown to numb our senses, to desensitize ourselves so much that we no longer find joy in even the simplest things which so easily lifted our spirits?

Or have we merely grown up and moved on, knowing that that superficial level of happiness is not enough to sustain us; not adequate for our long-term survival in a hugely depressing world, a world where we're constantly fighting to retain our sanity?

Give me that feeling beyond simply being happy.

I demand it.

***

It's the same with love.

One person's definition and scope of love differs from the other. What's love to you may not be to me. What's love to me may be strange and absurd to you.

At any single point in time, when we're so absolutely certain that that is the thing that we love; unconsciously, without knowing it, we demand to have it; to own it. It's our gawddamn right.

It ought to have been mine.

Like what Ellie wrote, depression is terribly narcissistic. And I have to agree.

I have to admit that this provided a great avenue, a mighty excuse, for my depression to swim to the surface all over again, to take root and flourish, because I was getting so self-absorbed. It all started very simply, a pure feeling of innocent love, whereby you expected nothing and the little things were enough to keep you bright as a bulb for the rest of the day. And then the little things kept growing onto each other and everything began to grow like a slow poison, slowly infecting you from within, until one day, you're hooked onto it like a drug and you didn't even know when it started. Suddenly, without realising it, you can't imagine life without him, and you sink deeper and deeper into this self-inflicted mire by harbouring thoughts of being with him all day, everyday, and having him all to yourself. Before long, you start to believe that he was the only one who could rescue you from this abyss that only you'd created yourself; he was your saviour and knight in shining armour, and you, his Cinderella, and what could she do but wait for her fairy godmother to bring them together?

Only thing is, in this case, the fairy godmother never appears.

And so you think you have a reason to be depressed, it's entirely warranted and you're not being spoilt and unreasonable.

Like I'd said, it's a perfect excuse.

2006-02-05T14:03:00.000+08:00

Watching him play tennis fills you with an indescribable sense of pride and 感动.

It's silly and ridiculous; how standing there watching from the sideline, your whole vision contains him and nothing else, how everything else fades into the background as you watch him return the balls with precision and effortlessness.

It's the first time that you've watched him play the game that he's played since age seven.

And you know this is it, when you are merely contented with standing there watching him play, even if it's for the entire time in the mildly drizzling day, at a game that you're not crazy about.

That, and chicken soup with ginseng cooked by the tender hands of your best friend's mum; those two things go down in your list of "感动"s for the day.

2006-02-04T01:42:00.000+08:00

How does it feel like to walk around aimlessly in the dark looking for a place to hide; to not be seen by any soul, and not finding one?

How does it feel like to want to escape from it all, to want to be the only soul prowling the streets in the dead of the night, with only the blackness as your cover? How does that feel like?

I know that feeling tonight.

I wouldn't stop walking; I must have walked like a crazed woman with a mission and circled the streets around the train station for more than an hour, even though I was supposed to be on my way home. It was, after all, late (at 12am) when I'd alighted the train and I was tired from a long day.

The prancing felt like hours though, because I'd covered so much ground. I'd even walked past the same 24-hr MacDonald's twice.

It's no surprise that, during the entire pilgrimage, my face was drenched in tears.

I wouldn't stop walking until all my tears had completely dried up. They took their time. So did I.

I swear however, that I would have started running on the streets just to get my adrenaline pumping and blood running if I were not wearing my inch-high gold heels. Now I understand why some people like to jog in the wee hours of the night. Not only does it work your body, it's also deeply therapeutic. There's something about the strange calmness of the dark that contrasts with your riotous emotions, that seemingly, has the power to quell it and bring it under control. I looked up at the dark sky and there were no stars tonight. No stars.

The darker the place, the more secure I feel.

There's only one thing I'm ashamed of.

I turned the bus driver away rudely when he stopped (yes, stopped!) the bus in the middle of road, opened the front entrance and asked me to not be upset anymore and to go on home (in case you were wondering, he was driving an empty bus because it was so late at night, all bus services had terminated).

I don't know what I was thinking of then, cross my heart. I must have been so ashamed to be caught crying by a total stranger, and a bus driver at that (no offence to bus drivers), that I absolutely gave him the blow-over when all he did was to worry about my safety and advise me to go on home. I was, at this point, just walking on the asphalt next to the main road, desperately looking for a place where no one can find me.

He must have thought that it was part of his duty to ensure all passengers (even lone, distraught girls) arrive home safely. I was, after all, sitting in the desolated bus interchange for a good twenty minutes just head-bent, sobbing.

God bless his kind soul. Although I'm not sure if it's the same bus driver on both accounts (because I did not look at either of them in the eye), God bless their kind souls.

2006-02-02T00:48:00.000+08:00

I went out of my mind today.

I went totally ballistic and started punching the wall with my right fist. Repeatedly.

The result?

I have a bad bruise on my right fist, at the knuckle of my smallest finger.

The doc wants it x-rayed.

I totally asked for it, yes I know.

Besides therapy, I may need anger management classes. Problematic child.

***

I know I have friends who are trying to make me snap out of whatever I'm in, and I know they're trying hard. Real hard.

Thanks to the 2 great gals who had dinner with me at Simpang Bedok tonight. I know it was for me that they'd planned this. They were so worried that I'll be gone before they could even catch hold of me.

But don't worry, gals. I'm crazy but not that gutsy yet. And I don't have the right tools to do anything serious except hurl myself from a HDB building which, by the way, requires a truckload of guts. So no worries there.

And as I'd said, I'd injured my right fist so that may take my mind off death quite abit.

I now it sounds very disturbing but I get a kick out of seeing the bruise on my hand. A result of my anger and frustration, a result of the culmination of intense feelings manifested physically on me, myself and I. It's.very.fascinating. The power of human emotions at its height and depth. And I get to flaunt it like a prize trophy. There, there, see this on my hand? I did this to myself.

As I've said, I'm sado-masochistic.

Let's see if I sleep soundly tonight.

2006-02-01T06:21:00.000+08:00

I'm in deep shit.

This is the second night in a row that I have woken up unexpectedly at 6am in the morning. 6 freaking am.

And I can't get back to sleep.

Something is really wrong when I start waking up in the middle of the night. Me. Never one to find sleep sufficient and one to sleep through a thunderstorm if I could.

And the first thing that I thought of when I woke up?

Her.

How good she is, how right she is for him, how happy they are together, how much better she is than I am. Than.I.am.

The lady's even got prettier shoes than me.

And I started crying.

I need to see a shrink.

***

I might as well say this since I'm up and blogging.

I hate how I look in pictures these days.

I think I look alright with rebonded hair ('cos that's what I see in the mirror), but take a photo of me now, and I cringe.

I don't like what I see in the photos. Any photo.

Maybe I should really cut my hair off like Denise Keller. Like Charlize Theron in Aeonflux. Who knows. This could be a sign. Hair-hating moment? Check. Self-loathing moment? Check. Whole-life-in-peril moment? Check check.

And I forgot what it was that I wanted to write about when I edited this post.

2006-01-30T01:28:00.000+08:00

I'm just obsessed with one thing these days.

Thinking about the best, least messy way of doing myself in.

I know it sounds very morbid, and might probably scare you quite abit, but let me assure you there's nothing to be afraid of.

Why should you be afraid of something that will release me?

***

I hope that, one day when I'm gone, some kind soul will take this url and distribute it to all my friends and family, to all who know me and to all who want to find out why.

Because I want them to know that, it's not their fault. Or anyone's.

If ever for a moment, they think that it might have been something which they have done, or did not do, let me assure you that it's not the case.

You're dealing with someone who's sick in the head here.

And this sick person's just tired of all the pretence. It's taking too much a toll on her.

So, if you would be kind, she'll like to take a rest now, thank you very much.

***

Since it's been my practice for previous years, I don't see why I shouldn't keep up with the tradition now.

Here's a list of all that I've received for my birthday for Year 2006, courtesy of all who bother to care (or care to bother):

1. One bouquet of purple tulips, nicely wrapped and tied in ribbons
2. One bottle of Ralph Lauren's Romance
3. One Guess? wallet
4. One gigantic, white doggie soft toy
5. One box of Famous Amos cookies in a teddy-imprinted tin box, with 2 stems of hearts
6. One long clutch (in white)
7. One pink shrug from Mango
8. One $50 cash voucher from Guess?
9. Two birthday cards
10. One bodywash from BodyShop
11. One bodywash from (I'm not sure where or what)
12. One wooden lantern (from Vietnam)
13. One Lancome cosmetics set (contains mascara, green eyeshadow and wrinkle remover)
14. One The Corpse Bride set (contains mini figurines of Emily, Skeleton Girl & Boy, Scraps the dog, Black Widow the spider, Maggot the well maggot and Mr. Skeleton)

Guess which is my fave present of all the above?

And, because I've done this before, I'm gonna do it again.

Birthday greetings via sms from:

1. Kat
2. Ce Yu
3. Xinyu
4. JL
5. Shayne
6. Boon
7. Cheryl
8. Marie
9. Song
10. TC
11. Ding
12. YC
13. Diana Tay

Don't ask me what's the point of the above. Just.don't.ask.

2006-01-28T01:24:00.000+08:00

It's madness the number of films that I'm looking forward to catching this month and the next.

Here they are (in some order of merit that only I know of):

1. Walk The Line - both Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon, singing!
2. Brokeback Mountain - film about 2 cowboys who form a bond (Heath Ledger & Jake Gyllenhaal), directed by Golden Globe winner Ang Lee
3. Broken Flowers - stars Bill Murray (Lost in Translation, but I remember him better as the GhostBusters guy) and Julie Delpy (Before Sunset)
4. Proof - stars Gwyneth Paltrow in a film about geniuses who are somewhat sick in the head, and by the director of Shakespeare in Love
5. The Constant Gardener - by director of City of God
6. MatchPoint - Woody Allen film, stars Scarlett Johansson
7. Dreamer: Inspired by a true story - stars child talent Dakota Fanning (I am Sam & War of the Worlds)
8. V for Vendetta - Natalie Portman (shaved her head for the film!), Hugo Weaving (LOTR elf & The Matrix villian), and with the brains of the Wachowski brothers (The Matrix writers), what more can you ask for?

And.. I want to watch Sylvia.

It's only now that I know they made a film on her, after all.

2006-01-28T00:34:00.000+08:00

It’s been almost a week since I last cried. It’s not supposed to be this long.

I’m supposed to be so overwhelmed with grief and all things negative that I’m supposed to be crying every chance I can get. But for the last few days, it’s not been the case. Until now.

I don’t know which is worse - wanting to cry and actually sobbing your heart out so bad until you’re weak from crying and nothing else; or wanting to cry but failing to do so, like someone’s surgically removed your tear ducts and you’re left with nothing but a dry, empty feeling; as if someone’s robbed you of something, something that binds you together and keeps you sane.

I feel nothing.

***

During our late-night supper, I told the girls that I cannot find it in me anymore to like anyone new all over again, even if I wanted to.

In other words, someone’s locked my heart and threw the key into the fire. It’s irrevocable. And the person who did it wasn’t me.

People always laugh inwardly when they hear this. To them, it’s nothing but an emotional statement; a thought conjured up when one’s still reeling from a bad breakup or an emotional trauma. You’ll get over this, you will, is what they always say. And you’ll like another guy all over again, perhaps even with the same intensity as before, yes you always do.

At times like this, I wish Elizabeth were here with me, only she would understand the truth of my words and what they mean.

Thing is, I’m really just a detached observer watching myself from a distance now, and making a factual observation (I know it’s very Prozac Nation). I’m just reporting it word for word. Like I’ve said, I don’t feel anything and I don’t think I ever will.

How I wish someone will take me seriously. For once.

Maybe in order for that to happen, I have to resort to measures that people do to get attention and the help that they need. I need to do something drastic. Like blow my head up in an oven a la Sylvia Plath. Or walk into a lake in the steps of Virginia Woods. Pop some pills or slit some wrists like thousands of desperate souls out there. We are constantly crying out for attention. But the ones that matter, those who can actually redeem us, they’re never here. They never listen.

2006-01-25T11:47:00.000+08:00

My head is giving me such a bad time that all I want to do is just to scratch my brains out.

My left eye has been tearing practically the whole day. I keep rubbing at it but it just keeps going, as if it has a mind of its own. In case you're wondering, I'm not crying. Really. I'm not.

***

Every waking moment, all I want to do is either go to sleep or read Prozac Nation.

I think Elizabeth Wurtzel is onto something.

If ever for a moment, you thought you knew me, you were probably wrong.

You don't know me until you've read this book. It's really me she's writing in these pages.

***

2006-01-24T00:47:00.000+08:00

I hate it when others, out of goodwill or sheer pomposity, raise their finger in the air and point to God for the answer to anything and everything.

I simply hate it when they constantly try to illuminate your vision by pointing to God's path, as if it explains everything - this misery that you're going through, the pain that you're feeling and have always felt, the absence of pain, the absence of feeling, everything.

The fact of the matter is, God doesn't explain anything.

To be more precise - the presence, or absence of God, doesn't explain ANYTHING.

It doesn't explain why people suffer heartbreaks, it doesn't explain why the people in Africa suffer extreme poverty, it doesn't explain war or disease, it doesn't explain why some are born healtiher, others richer, some more loved; it doesn't explain why some are just always that bit more fortunate than others. It doesn't explain all that I'm going through.

It doesn't explain this.

So stop belittling this episode that I'm having by constantly giving me reminders about God, like that explains everything. Like that makes everything disappear and drives all the dark clouds away. If I need a reminder of any kind, I can always go to church, thank you very much.

In case this doesn't get through to you, IT DOES NOT MAKE ME FEEL ANY BETTER WHEN YOU KEEP TELLING ME THAT GOD LOVES ME AND NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, HE WILL ALWAYS WATCH OVER ME.

Because you know what?

It's nothing but an empty promise to me. Yes, sirree.

2006-01-23T01:12:00.000+08:00

Today wraps up a 3-day continuous birthday celebration for me.

It's been the same every year; without fail, my secondary school gal pals and my jc clan will take the effort to meet up during this period. It's good to know that some things never change.

The thing that struck me most about both gatherings is this: almost everyone's unhappy.

There's always something in your life that you're unhappy about - that job of yours that you're so stuck with but so loathe, that insectile boyfriend, that non-existent boyfriend, that insectile boss, your family, your life, God, yourself. If I had to count the number of unhappy events versus happy moments, the dark side that is us will win hands-down.

It seems like the older we get, the more things we're unhappy about.

I found out today that an old friend of ours is undergoing severe depression. She's seeking psychiatric help. She's possibly done the full Prozac Nation package - crying, slashing of wrists, banging of head against walls, throwing massive fits, having panic attacks, attacking her boyfriend, et al.

When I hear of this, I find myself pretty sane in retrospect.

At least I don't hurt others, all I do is attack myself.

Recently, I find myself turning into this split-personality creature; at night, I bawl my eyes out, I can't crawl out of bed, I can't eat or drink. Given the necessary tools, I could have hurt myself beyond repair.

On the other hand, I wake up when it's time and go to work. I behave as if nothing is the problem. I write concise emails, I deliver results. I talk to the big boss in what I deem as a confident demeanor. I do what it takes to prove that I'm capable and worthy of a promotion. And then when darkness falls, the whole cycle repeats itself. Again and again.

How many of us struggle through life in this way? Day after day after day?

The way I see it, life is meaningless. If only to make us stronger, bullshit. If only to bring us closer to God, triple quadruple religious bullshit. Where is the light at the end of the tunnel? Where is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? All a mirage to keep us fooled, to pull the wool over our eyes, to attempt to explain this unexplainable mess that is our existence. In the words of Lizzie, we are all preparing for death. This joy-ride that we're having right now, we can't wait for it to be over. It's simply a pain in the ass.

2006-01-21T05:55:00.000+08:00

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me-e, Happy Birthday to ME.

**

Although you think that your world is one huge, messed-up universe, the cosmos seem intent on showing you the exact opposite.

It seems like everyone around you has been tasked with the impossible mission this very day - that of making you one HAPPY girl.

In the words of someone, I'm so adored it's making everyone envious.

In the words of another, from the way things go, it looks as if I never ever had a birthday before.

The moment I sat down at my table after coming in late for work on 20th January 2006, I noticed a little box perched on the top of my CPU. It says Happy Birthday. First present of the day is from someone I didn't really expect. It's a bottle of Ralph Lauren's Romance. Perfect.

Few hours later, I received a huge bouquet of flowers, tulips to be exact, purple tulips, my favourite flowers, and they were delivered right to my work-desk. Courtesy of my colleagues. They wanted me to believe it was from some secret admirer, but I wasn't duped for a moment. Oh no. Only COT would have come up with something like that.

An hour later, after I'm back from a meeting with the big boss, I found a huge blue box on my desk. I thought someone had bought me a man and smuggled him in it.

Turns out it's a gigantic fluffy white dog soft toy, but he's my new-found boyfriend. Lonely nights, no more.

Less than an hour later, I catch someone trying to slip a present on my table without me knowing. I catch her red-handed. It's a box of Famous Amos cookies in a nice teddy-imprinted box. And 2 stalks of hearts, which I take to signify as hearts of love. They look pretty and I look like a fairy godmother waving her wand holding them.

More hours later, when the work-day has officially come to an end, I received another gift from the bunch of "secret admirers". It's a wallet from Guess?. Just what I need. And I'd thought the flowers were it.

Less than 15 minutes later, I received the last of my presents for the day. A box of cosmetics from Lancome. As you know, I'm such a lazy girl I hardly put on any make-up nowadays. Not even for a date. But I appreciate the efforts made to scour for a suitable present for me, it is, after all, really tough to buy something for Ms Chong the Bimbo. So, for their sake, I will attempt to put the cosmetics to good use. Oh yes.

Is it wrong then, if after all these, you're still not quite there in terms of being happy? If, at the back of your mind, you're still thinking about that someone, and what he (did not) do for you for your birthday? Doesn't he know that all you want is for him to personally say Happy Birthday to you, give you a hug (or even a handshake) and present you with a card that he wrote, or some such small gift? Even if it's another Thursday Next book, you wouldn't mind. In fact, you'll be jumping for joy if after all this huge mess that only you'd created, he'll still get you a birthday present of his own. Maybe another Nightmare Before Christmas figurine? Jack Skellington on a keychain? Anything. Really.

It's terrible when, on top of unhappiness, you have to deal with guilt for being unhappy.

2006-01-20T01:17:00.000+08:00

I don't know what made me decide to revisit my old blog today, the first edition of this site which you are currently reading.

Imagine my surprise to find out that people still visit that site, because I found new comments under some posts and new entries in the guestbook. And my tracker shows how many people are currently online at that page at a single point in time. People still read the shite that I wrote years back, back at a time when I was insane enough to put to words the same crazy ass-shite that goes behind my mind on a religious basis. The last post that I had written on that page was sometime in August 2004.

And I found this.

Under one of the comments column, after an absolutely devastating post which I had written more than a year ago on August 15, 2004, someone anonymous wrote this:

Y'know who you should remember?

GOD.

I broke down and cried.

2006-01-19T01:06:00.000+08:00

A friend asks: What do you want for your birthday?

Your answer: Him.

***

A Letter to Him:

Did you know I almost chop my hair off because of you? That's crazy, I know. So the furthest I did was to get my hair rebonded. That's Me, possibly the only young, trendy girl left in Singapore who has not had her hair rebonded at all since its craze started and darn proud of that. I gave up the title of not ever having rebonded my hair because of you. Now I have stick-straight hair just like every other girl walking down the street; an urban manifestation of cloned beauty. I don't know what you even think about that. Do you like my hair better now?

Did you know I got a manicure and pedicure because of you? That very night we were doomed for our talk, I skipped my meal and had my nails cut, buffed and painted during lunch hour. Not that you have not seen my naked nails up close and personal. I'm sure you have and know what they look like. But still, I wanted them to look their best for you. Not that you would have noticed that there's anything different about my nails whilst we were going through our chicken at dinner. Did you?

Do you know what I want for my birthday this year? Not any present in the world, not any branded good, or fancy jewellery, or even clothes, bags and shoes. All I want is your time. Just one day. Me and you. For dinner, you can take me to your favourite Italian restaurant that you so love. I haven't been there. After dinner, you will take a stroll down the beach with me and we will talk all night under the stars. You will tell me about your childhood, your favourite films; I will share with you my favourite books and we will discuss about Tim Burton and George Lucas all over again. As usual, you will send me home and take the elevator up to my floor with me; as usual, I will always refuse. And then, before you go, I will give you the biggest, tightest hug that I can muster before the elevator doors crash on either of us again. This time, I promise I will not stand there like a stone figure. And that will end our night very perfectly. The next day, we will both return to work and to our individual lives and we will behave as if nothing extraordinary has happened. Do you know what I want for my birthday this year?

2006-01-18T00:23:00.000+08:00

Who do you talk to when emotions are choked in the core of your heart and your voice has decided to disown you? When thoughts fail to form and lay lifeless and weak from trying to take shape? Who do you turn to?

Not your best friend, nor your sibling, or parent. Not God.

You take to pen and paper.

Here, words have a life of its own. Without trying too hard, without being too explicit, they convey everything that you've tried to communicate to another living being. Tried countless times and yet have failed much more.

There's only one thing.

The reader's missing.

The longer this writer is still writing, the reader's nowhere to be found.

2006-01-16T23:21:00.000+08:00

It's funny how life makes a mockery of you.

Really. It just tickles me.

On the one hand, you cry buckets for hours on end over ONE guy; you can't seem to climb out of bed on a fabulous Saturday afternoon even if it's to use the bathroom; you can hardly eat nor drink. You don't even think about how gross you look, with messed-up bedhair and grubby face and puffy eyes. On good days, all you do is listen to the songs that he gave you, stare at the picture that he shared with you, re-read and re-read the messages that he sent you, play images over and over again in your mind about the conversations both of you shared, that hug you'll never forget and especially that look on his face when he's troubled/worried about you. On bad days, all you think about in that peabrain of yours is how cruel God/fate/divinity/life has been, because THEY (with all of their mighty powers combined) have failed you and failed you terribly. On days like these, all you can think of is to hurt yourself so that you can mask that tight knot you're feeling somewhere in your chest. You're not sure why it hurts so. But the guy that you're absolutely crazy over is not going to go to any lengths to be with you for happily ever after. Why no. He has his perfect 10/10 girlfriend to die for first.

On the other hand, you have MEN dying to get to know you better. Well, almost. You go clubbing with a group of friends and at the dance floor, a guy shimmies up close to you, all the time trying to catch your eye and disarm you with what he hopes to be his most charming smile. No chance in hell. You stand at a crowded MRT station in the heart of town waiting for your friend and a stranger approaches you, swoops out his digital camera and tries to snap a picture of you, all the time complimenting on your looks and insisting that you should be his girlfriend. You think he's either a nutcase or someone with no sense of shame. You go to your neighbourhood grocery store in the middle of the night to pick up extra supplies and 2 teenage boys are caught dead in their tracks when one of them lays his eyes on you. Both linger outside the store until you come out, and whilst you are still busy browsing, one of them surprises you by saying to you in Mandarin, "My friend wants to get to know you". You feel like telling them that they both look underaged next to you, but thought better of it, and merely politely declined. One night, you go out for drinks with fellow colleagues after work and the next thing you know, someone's friend has gotten hold of your number and has been texting you every single day, with offers of supper, dinner, lunch, even offering to send you home after work - no questions asked. You wonder what you did right that night when you two first met. Maybe it was dark, that's why. You go online to check your mail much like what you do every other day, and before you know it, you're reading an email that a stranger has sent you and he's asking you for your msn, the place where you work, what you did over the past weekend, etc etc. He says he's read your blog. You wonder what a guy like him with a decent job and background is doing emailing a stranger. You have absolutely no idea.

You couldn't believe just how bloddy ironic life can be. Until this.

And yet, after all this while, the one you're still thinking of is him.

2006-01-16T00:58:00.000+08:00

The world doesn't stop turning because of you.

However crestfallen you are, however down in the deepest, darkest pits of living hell you are in, it continues to turn on its axis; and everyday, the sun still rises in the east and shines, oblivious to you. Mocking you, perhaps.

Because why?

You are NOTHING.

You are not even comparable to the smallest, most minuscule insectile creature on earth, because nature takes care of even that.

You?

No one gives a dime about you. Certainly not Mother Nature, or the Force, or the One Above, or Fate, or Divinity, or the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Heck, not even astrology.

You think it cruel that everyday is a new day, that other people are walking down the streets humming to themselves, that others are tucked in by thoughts of their loves ones every night, that no one single life is disturbed by the turbulences and injustices of your one solitary pathetic excuse for an existence.

Now you know.

Wake up and smell the coffee.

2006-01-12T22:20:00.000+08:00

It's been so cold these days that I almost feel like I'm back in Sapa, which isn't right.

It's been raining so much that I'm getting quite sick of seeing dark clouds, muddy puddles on the road and drizzles of rain. Go away. You're boring me.

Not that I'm complaining about how nice it is to cuddle up in bed though. It beats feeling all hot and bothered under the collar just before you tuck into bed, definitely.

I had promised not to write about him in this blog. I know I did. Somewhere in these words.

But the feeling of trepidation is taking over, as the hours tick past.

I'm scared. Literally.

Tomorrow's going to be the first in a long while where we're going to have a proper talk, just the 2 of us. I can't even recall when was the last.

Ok, if truth be told, the last was just on Monday, the eve of Hari Raya Haji, but I'm not going to count that in 'cos it hardly qualifies as a talk, given the length of time we had for each other.

I'm really quite scared.

I'm not at all sure what to say to him; I'm worried that I will turn dumbfounded, and clam up when it comes to baring my heart, as usual. I've never been good at communicating my feelings in the oral language.

I'm not surprised if he hardly understands what I've been going through.

All I know is, I'm going to remember that hug for a long long time.

I can't believe it actually happened. It's really too surreal.

I don't know whether to thank you or not, God.

2006-01-01T13:13:00.000+08:00

I'm sorry if I've not blogged about my trip the entire time that I've been back.

I'm sorry that I've not been blogging about the preparations that I have to undergo for my sector's Dinner&Dance, and how I made two appearances on stage that night.

I'm sorry that I've not blogged about the actual D&D, which occurred on 30th Dec, and in someone's words, it is the night that I am the most beautiful out of all 356 days in year 2005 (not really a compliment, if you know what I mean).

December 2005 was just such a crazy crazy month, I doubt I'll forget it for years to come.

And oh, Happy New Year, my friends.

What are your new year resolutions?

I can't think of anything right now except that I resolve to sign up for hiphop classes in the new year, and also, that I resolve to be HAPPIER! No tears!

I will cease to be a crybaby in the new year. There can't be anything else that can happen to break me anymore (bad English, I know). After all, haven't I been through the worst already?

So yes, to a year of smiles, no tears! Cheers! =)

2005-12-25T17:53:00.000+08:00

**Edited** (x2)

I have no idea why I'm doing this now and not earlier (before Christmas) or later (nearer to my birthday). Whatever. Bookmark this page, wilya?

Post-Christmas / Pre-Birthday Wishlist: (in order of importance)

1. Digital camera - that Canon Ixus something (in red)

2. Apple Ipod Nano

3. Wallet - I like the longish kind (preferably one that's classy)

4. Military jacket, or any cropped jacket - no fancy colours or wild prints (one that's really really versatile.. oh yah, and must be fitting.. get the smallest size pls, usually a size 6)

5. More shrugs! (from Topshop, size 6)

6. One pair of stylish silver earrings (small hoop kind, a pair that I can wear to work almost everyday if I want to.. if you want to add in diamonds, by all means haha)

7. Bag - bags for work, for going out, anything

8. Gift vouchers (from Mango, Topshop or Warehouse)

9. More long necklaces! (from Topshop, Warehouse or Forever 21)

10. More underwear (from Topshop, size 6)

Oh! and yes, Merry Christmas to all! =)

2005-12-19T00:40:00.000+08:00

I can't believe Christmas is going to be here in a flash.

This year's horrid. Walking down Orchard Road tonight with its many splendid lights and some random photo-taking still did not manage to give me that shot of upcoming Christmas delight and anticipation.

Whatever is the matter?

Maybe I'm just numb to all. What's Christmas? Just another pretty holiday in a man-made calendar year where some people go to a sit-down party and sing slow songs that touch your heart the first few times you hear it, and then wham-bam thank you m'am, that was fun, see you next year.

I know something's wrong with me.

I haven't even the slightest clue what Christmas gifts to buy my friends this year.

Usually, buying Christmas gifts gets me brimming with excitement. It's even better than receiving gifts 'cos you'll never buy the "wrong" gift for someone, but you're always susceptible to receiving the "wrong" gifts from people.

But no, not this year. I'm seriously not excited about anything this Christmas.

This year, Christmas is here too soon, too fast. Slow down a bit and take another year, pls.

By the way, in case you missed this, I'm safely back home from Vietnam. And yes, I did survive it.

2005-12-03T00:49:00.000+08:00

Day 2 of Hanoi trip over.

It's 11:49pm here in my hostel and I've just showered, getting ready for bed.

I'm not used to not having my own PC, my own internet access, my own music playing in the background, my own toilet.

But still, it's been a pretty awesome experience so far.

Today was a real eye-opener because the entire city was alive.

The people of Hanoi are celebrating Vietnam's win in the SEA Games.

Can you imagine an entire city ablaze with motorcycles and their headlights in the dark, as they circle the city streets?

Have you ever seen something close to a riot, matching the sheer number of people on the streets united as one, waving their red national flags and carrying banners on their backs as they race on their bikes?

Today, my friends and I did.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

It was a revolution without the violence.

A celebration of triumph.

How can you ever beat that?

Not here, of course.

2005-12-01T15:17:00.000+08:00

Blog addict at work!

I'm blogging from our airport's T1 free internet access area!

I love our Changi Airport!!!!!!

Now, I know why we've always been FIRST! YEAY! =)

Bye, folks, I'm off to Hanoi!

Promise to blog once I'm there! Muarks!

2005-11-30T00:10:00.000+08:00

I bought a new pair of shades.

I like it. It's huge and black, and protects me not only from the sun but from almost everyone.

It's like a protective shield, keeping bad karma away from me.

Or at least I hope.

I'm bringing it to Hanoi with me. A tourist in shades, nothing strange about that.

**

Speaking of bad karma, I've enough of it.

Somebody buy me a four-leaved clover, give me crystals or something, I need more than a healthy dose of good karma to shower upon me.

I slipped and fell right on my bum today. At home.

I went out to shop for my trip and busted one of my toes against a table corner in the store.

Maybe it could have been worse.

I could have slipped and fractured a bone, busted my toe and contracted tetanus.

Positive thinking at work, everyone.

**

Did I say that I'd also bought a thin scarf from Topshop just for the fun of it?

It's striped, and very Brit-looking, and no prizes for guessing, but I'm bringing it to Hanoi with me.

Now all I have to do is to figure out a plot to keep my travel-mates with me until the last day of my existence in Vietnam. *scratches chin*

**

I won't talk about the last few weeks, or how muted I've become.

I won't talk about that night when my tear-ducts took ownership and ruled over me after a few cups of wine.

I won't talk about the extent of damage that I've potentially done to my reputation in the workplace as a result of the above.

I won't talk about what a loser I've become. To people who know me intimately enough. To myself, even.

I won't talk about me. Or you. No I won't.

2005-11-15T15:10:00.000+08:00

You think about the lessons and you never learn from them.

You think about the lessons again and how you never ever learn from them.

I was like this 2 years ago and I'm still like this now. Today.

I'm really beginning to believe that God did not make me for love.

If that's the case, I should seriously start acquainting myself with self-sufficiency. Who knows, we might even fall in love.

After too many horrid lessons from the teacher of life, I'm just going to bow my head, quieten myself and submit to the dictatorship of whoever is the mastermind behind all this.

There will be no more dreams.

I'm officially dead today.

2005-11-10T14:17:00.000+08:00

The night sky was beautiful tonight.

It was red.

But the sudden bolts of lightning marred its beauty.

An element of fear resides in us deeply. Like thunder pulsing through the bleeding backdrop of one's heart.

If you find yourself not understanding my words, you probably aren't supposed to.

**

Last count: 5 times

I'm still not satisfied.

**

This may sound cheesy but it gave me an opportunity to see who genuinely cared about me. And what I liked.

There's that close girlfriend who managed to snitch a free movie poster from Balaclava. For me.

There's that other girlfriend who surprised me by offering to give me a free copy of the film (pirated, of course, shhh). For me.

There's everyone else whom I'd dragged, coerced, forced, coaxed, whatever, to watch the film with me.

And then there's you who first downloaded the entire soundtrack onto your mp3 player, transferred it to my computer, and then gave me a burnt CD of the exact same soundtrack. Just for me.

When you think of moments like these, there's a small part in you that tries to make you believe you're not alone. I guess not.

2005-11-07T05:58:00.000+08:00

It saddens me when people cannot appreciate what goes behind a film.

Or worse, they fail to even realise what is it that truly goes behind one.

Sure, they know to appreciate the blockbuster hits, like Harry Potter and LOTR, they ooh and ahh over the strange, mystical creatures and take delight in them, they are intrigued and are tickled by characters like Gollum (LOTR) and Jar Jar Binks (Star Wars).

Sure, you watch a film for its entertainment value, and so long as the storyline is decent, characters believable, throw in some awesome special effects and a kickass soundtrack, it's almost guaranteed to be a sure hit.

But one shouldn't stop at just that, should we?

It speaks greatly of a generation that cannot go beyond the superficialities.

When I tell people what a superb film Tim Burton's Corpse Bride is, they look at me as if I had gone bananas.

And then they start to say, "But it's just a cartoon." (insert rolling of eyes)

I can't believe the sheer idiocy of these people.

Does being classified a "cartoon" or any other genre has anything to do with whether or not a film is good?

And for your info, Ms/Mr Pompous-I'm-So-Smart-I-Can't-Believe-I'm-Having-A-Conversation-About-A-Cartoon, I won't even classify that film as a cartoon, the furthest I'll go is to say "animation".

And not just any off-the-mill animation, it's Stop-Motion, for chrissakes. Does that word even mean anything to you, you thick skull?

Don't people ever know what they're watching these days?

It's such an insult to the producers, really.

They judge a film by a)how much they enjoy it, b)how big a hit it is, and c)what genre of film it falls into.

Doesn't anyone care what goes behind the scenes anymore?

I say that Tim Burton's Corpse Bride is such a great film not only because it has a moving storyline, unique and interesting characters, some great songs by Danny Elfman, but more more so because it's stop-motion and they did such a great job of it.

They did it so well that most, if not everyone, was fooled into thinking it is a "normal" animation film, where everything is computer-generated.

No no No.

It's Stop-Motion, meaning the producers had to create the figures from scratch (think clay figures but with alot more work and effect), not only figures but everything the characters use, knives, forks, spoons, chairs, tables and piano, everything.

And then how do they actually film the characters?

By moving them for one frame, stopping it there, and taking the frame as if they were taking a picture (i.e. stop-motion).

For every smallest movement (twitch of an eye, quiver of a lip, whatever), they have to actually change the figure, hold it there and take the frame. This goes on for repeated times to capture actual movements. That's how strenuous it is.

If you were thinking of creating the characters from pixels on a computer, you are terribly off the track.

So until you are able to appreciate something for what it's truly worth, it's better to shut your trap lest you come off looking like a fool. It's even worse when you haven't even seen it.

2005-11-03T15:24:00.000+08:00

I can't believe I've not dedicated a single post on this blog to this little man.

When it suddenly occurred to me just, I mentally chided myself.

How could I have not? To date!

And to think that he is the single best thing that has happened to me and my family. To date! I can't stress that enough!!

Before you think that I've found the love of my life, let me just clarify that you're not exactly far off the mark.

He is the love of my life, at the moment. As well as my family's.

I can't think of another living being who is more deserving of our common love than him.

I'm very proud when I hold him in my arms. Like all others before him, he is the living emblem that something wonderful can happen to us - lesser beings who are no longer capable of making this world a better place, no longer capable of anything sovereign, or good, or pure, other than to shower him and all others like him with all of our love.

He is our pride and joy. Really. I mean it.

And later this month, he will be turning one.

What gift can you possibly give to someone who deserves the world? Pray tell.

I want him to remain one forever. The magic loses its sparkle and lustre when children grow up, bearing only a semblance of their former true self.

Happy Birthday in advance, little nephew. May you always find this world a beautiful place.

2005-11-02T11:03:00.000+08:00

I'm getting hyped up about my upcoming trip to Vietnam.

Was watching the news the other day and they reported cases of avian flu in Vietnam. Which totally freaked me out. My colleagues have been bugging me about getting that flu jab before I head off to Hanoi in Dec.

Which I will, really.

That aside, I got down to getting ready for my trip today.

Which included scouring for winter wear - jackets, long johns, turtlenecks, gloves, ski caps, the like. I didn't have to spend a single cent, thanks to an old friend who provided me with all these and more.

I'm not sure about the gloves and ski caps, but I'm sure the jackets and long johns will come in handy.

NOBODY believes me when I tell them that it will be cold in Hanoi come Dec.

According to my travel guide, day temperatures are about 18 degrees, and night temperatures can fall below 10.

Since we will also be going to the mountainous areas, it's safe to say that temperatures will drop below that.

And to top it all off, my dear friend also lent me her $350 backpack which I will be using for the trip instead of a trolley bag.

I'm almost ready.

Personally, I kinda like lugging the backpack around, I think it looks pretty a'ight on me. Heheh.

I've never been so hyped up about travelling as I've been this year, I guess it comes with the cash.

In fact, I'm already thinking of planning for a Bangkok trip in either Jan or Feb next year with my colleague.

We'll see.

2005-10-29T11:37:00.000+08:00

This is a long overdue post.

I did something rather out of the blue the other day.

It was spontaneous, unprecedented (at least for me), and totally reckless.

I took up an old friend's offer and posed at a low-budget photoshoot for her company.

It was quite unnerving, posing for all you're worth in a room full of strangers and some young models with bodalicious figures.

The girls were all sexily dressed in low-cut jeans and mid-riff baring T-shirts.

Me? Dressed in my signature office attire (I went down after a day of work with no spare clothes to change into) of a white shirt and black pants.

It was just wrong for a photoshoot for a new beer brand, but my friend insisted that they wanted people from all walks of life to model.

Honestly, I was just delighted to have free beer, which I took hearty swigs of whilst posing with a bottle in my hand.

As it turned out, I got SO DARN red in my face and neck that I'm very sure my photos turned out like crap.

Photos of a lobster, really.

But it was still a fresh, novel experience, and though it wasn't a super glamorous shoot, I walked away with the experience of doing something I've never thought I'll possibly do.

If they like what they see in the pics, you might just see some of the photos in a certain men's magazine, but who knows, really?

For me, I just liked my hair which they did in huge curls with a curling-iron, and played up my eyes with super dark, intense eyeshadow.

I didn't look like me. More like some Jap or Taiwanese girl who OD-ed on eye makeup.

Which brings me to this.

This motivates me to get my hair professionally curled at a salon come Dec.

Hello, curls.

2005-10-12T09:17:00.000+08:00

I've been to the Journey of Faith exhibition at Asian Civilisation Museum recently.

For the ill-informed, it's an exhibition of Vatican artifacts, with pieces from Rome to China to India to Vietnam and even Singapore.

I've never been to any seriously arty-farty kinda exhibitions, much less to the actual places of culture and the arts.

So that small exhibition was enough to impress the pants off me.

I love the paintings and the sculptures the most.

Although the pieces of Vatican-related items were impressive - the tiara, the throne, the garment worn by the Pope himself, etc, all that gold reflecting the spotlights off - what really caught my eye were the items that look old and ARE old.

They speak of so much more history and character.

There's this amazing mosaic painting that I remember most clearly.

Think of it as a painting, a painting that was originally on the ceiling of St Peter's Basilica (I think it was St Peter's Basilica) and, due to some rebuilding, they actually had to remove the mosaic off the ceiling, and whilst they were doing that, they used paper and some substance to go over the mosaic to create a "copy" of the mosaic itself, and thereafter pieced all the tiny pieces of paper together to form a mosaic of a mosaic.

Cool, ain't it?

It doesn't look that impressive compared to all the glorious paintings in their vibrant, vivid colours, but it's an interesting piece.

And you learn.

This spurs me on to start saving some serious money to visit ROME, GREECE, TURKEY, SPAIN, SOUTH AFRICA, and all those places one must go to at least once in their lifetime or it's considered one huge abominable irreversible sin.

First stop: Vietnam in Dec.

START SAVING MONEY.

2005-10-08T09:25:00.000+08:00

Last count: 4 times.

I am Emily. Emily is me.

**

My office is freezing these days.

I've got a new nickname.

Chubs.

As in Chubby.

It sounds cute, but I'd rather not associate myself with chubbiness or skinny-ness, thank you very much.

The nickname came about when a few of my colleagues saw my childhood photo and decided that I was a chubby kid.

And cute.

One asked, "Whatever happened to you now?"

As if it was positively criminal to lose both the chubbiness and the cute-ness.

I admit it. I'm neither now.

Everyone loves a chubby, cute kid. No one likes a skinny, morose lass.

Did I say I'm Emily?

2005-10-05T10:53:00.000+08:00

I got a giant HUGE movie poster of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride.

For free.

I'm unbeatable. Muahaha.

**

Been reading this book by the title of "Seven Types of Ambiguity" by this guy called Eliot Perlman. Seriously, never heard of him.

But it's such an amazing book, I just dunno where to start.

It's like all those thoughts that're trapped within me, those words for which I cannot find any voice, nor give them any face, they come to life in the lines of this very book.

Many a time I just can't help but let out a gasp whilst reading.

Or give a knowing smile.

There are so many lines in this book that make me catch my breath and wonder how this genius was created, but I can't list all of them here. Let's still give you a little teaser for effect.

How many people around the world who have not yet fallen off Alex's graph are eating dinner night after night after night on their own? There are the divorced. There are widows and widowers, of course. We think of them as old. They are not all old but even those who are - are they in some way meant to eat dinner each night on their own? Do they deserve it? Have they earned it? How many nights must you spend alone for every night you were not on your own?

It feels ridiculous to make a salad for yourself. You wash the lettuce, tear it apart, cut up the tomatoes, add a little dressing and wonder whether it will feel less ridiculous, hollow, artificial, with the passage of time. Don't add dressing. No one is watching. Try to cover the hum of the flourescent strip light and the refrigerator with the radio. The radio is worse. It shouts at you, advertisements, drum and bass, little girl or boy groups voicing perfectly timed musical cliches to computerised accompaniments, right-wing shock jocks with switchboards lit up by fear, hate and ignorance, or New Age flatulence masquerading as enlightenment. Turn it off and that leaves you the hum and the salad. If you don't add dressing, it will be over that much faster. Then you try leaving out the tomatoes.... the idea that there is a definite warning sign for people living by themselves - the salad dressing stops appearing in the salad, then the tomatoes, then the salad itself. Then you're just left with a bowl which, sooner or later, you fill with cereal and milk and then - for the hell of it - you start to add a little scotch to the milk.

2005-10-01T11:27:00.000+08:00

I knew this was it. It's now or never.

What better time than this? With something I love so much on-screen.

And so without thinking too much about it, without dwelling too long over it, without allowing myself time for regret and doubt to eat their way through, I challenged myself and just went ahead with it.

It wasn't at all too bad, really.

Somewhat daunting, but not unbearable daunting.

And look, I survived.

For the first time yesterday, I entered a theatre on my own and sat through the entire film.

The plus point was that I wasn't disturbed - I had the entire row to myself, could sit in whichever fashion I liked, I didn't have to worry about my neighbours disturbing me with trivial comments, I didn't have to bother with ceaseless munching all around me, I didn't have to put up with flashing handphone lights and constant messaging.

And the best plus point?

I could really focus on the film and ponder and analyze over whether was the film really stop-motion or did Tim Burton pull a fast one on us?

I appreciated all the little details in the film much more, because it was the second time I was watching it, and because I was alone to fully enjoy it.

And was I proved right?

Yes, it was liberating.

Now, I really have abolished all reason for human companionship.

I could climb Mount Everest, survive Vietnam, embark on a dangerous mission to aid Palestinians in Isreal, whatever, just throw it at me.

I could be the next Angelina Jolie.

There's nothing stopping you now. No, not really.

2005-09-30T04:42:00.000+08:00

I wasn't really expecting it.

I didn't think it could possibly measure up to the first.

After all, they always said that first love runs deeper and further.

But he did it.

Without consigning the first to an anecdote, to be remembered occasionally upon probing, he created a second in a class of its own.

And I loved it.

I won't delve into the intracacies of stop-motion feature films here (I'm no expert in the topic, after all), but if you're here for my 2-cents' worth of opinion, please watch Tim Burton's Corpse Bride.

E'nuff said.

2005-09-19T12:10:00.000+08:00

The circle was complete last night.

By sheer chance, or divinity, we met an old friend and she made the circle complete.

It was the 6 of us again.

Just like old times almost 9 years ago.

I don't believe things happen by coincidence.

She returned to us for a purpose, and for whatever reason, it felt right.

And so, we spent an entire night catching up on old times, reminiscing about the past, laughing at previous goofs and secondary school silliness, and moaning at how old we've all become.

And the saddest part of it was, although we were still the same people, with our individual quirks and traits, our way of conversing and poking fun at people, of making jibes at one another, the thing was, I realised we weren't as happy as before.

That childhood naivety had been vanquished.

In its place was a sense of weariness, of learning to accept life and living with it, from it, despite all.

All these years, I wonder if we have progressed at all.

Another 9 years from now, I hope things will be alot more different.

I still mean what I said though.

I still wanna be the next Angelina Jolie.

We'll see.

**

By the way, if you're a beer fan, please please try this new brand of Canadian lager called Moosehead.

I'm advertising for my friend who works for the sole distributor of the beer.

It tastes rather like Hoegaarden, with alot more character.

Try it if you see it, it'a available at most local bars.

And recently, we've discovered another gem of a hideout.

This diner/pub called Blooie's, and guess what, it's located in one of my favourite places in Singapore - Siglap!

It's rustic and hidden away amidst private estates, and reminds me of a lonesome pub in Dempsey Road.

This is so gonna be one of our favourite chill-out places of 2005.

Blooie's, Moosehead beer, some awesome snowskin mooncakes from Raffles Hotel and a bunch of old friends.

The only thing that's lacking is some Belle & Sebastian.

2005-09-18T04:41:00.000+08:00

So what happens after you finally meet your soulmate?

What happens next?

I must admit, there was naivety in me.

I thought it would end perfectly once the all-important, crucial link was found.

After all, wasn't the whole point of love about being together once you've finally found it?

Many spend all their lives looking for that single one to complete them. Some are lucky. Most settle for second-best or third-best because they are too afraid to try, too afraid to lose. And then are those who never do, however hard they try.

As it turns out, the only thing that I learned from this whole search, this whole journey of self-discovery, is this.

Soulmates don't always end up being together in the end.

Reality of life always constricts us. Gets in the way. Always gets between us. It always does.

Our sense of practicality always wins over. All those years of bourgeoisie education have effected its grasp over our minds.

There may be many reasons why. But the most powerful ones are often, ironically, the most trivial.

And so, there's no happy ending to this tale.

2005-09-16T14:20:00.000+08:00

Go watch Eric Khoo's Be With Me.

Support the local film industry.

Even if you dislike local films, just watch it. You won't regret it.

Someone once told me that a movie is good so long as it succeeds in getting its message across to the audience. In whatever fashion. Whichever genre.

And I'm like yah.

This movie does that.

Gets its point across.

It's subtle, almost silent, and beautiful in that quiet, succinct way.

And another thing.

I'm liking Belle & Sebastian right now.

Not that it's related to Eric Khoo in any way. =)

2005-09-14T03:23:00.000+08:00

I've been left high and dry.

I don't know if this is God's idea of "everything working out alright", but at the moment, I feel like I've been taken on a ride.

I'm a fool.

Part Two hasn't happened yet, in case you were wondering.

I seriously have no clue as to what's going on.

Sometimes, most times recently, I wonder what's the use of doing so many things and trying so hard?

Perhaps nothing matters anymore.

Everything's just futile.

**

I'm on MC today.

My eyes have been giving me some problems, it's twice in 2 months that I've been on MC for swollen and sore eyes.

I used to get this problem alot when I was in secondary school.

I HATED it.

Now, like a bad past, it's coming back to haunt me.

Thanks but no thanks. =(

2005-09-07T14:35:00.000+08:00

I love James Blunt.

I don't care that the one song has been on my replay mode for ages. Ever since I heard it being used as a track to promote the "Lost" trailer.

I can go on listening to him forever.

I love love love James Blunt. Don't you just?

**

I did it.

Unlike what my last post suggested, I didn't wait for the golden, perfect opportunity to manifest itself.

Sometimes, it may be a good thing to subdue the perfectionistic nature in you.

Just let loose. Go with the flow. Allow your spontaneous side to reign once in a while.

And so I did it.

In a rather timidly way, in my opinion. But still, I'm proud of myself for finally following through and acting upon my desires instead of procrastinating the entire time and eventually end up berating myself for lost opportunities and missed chances, like what I'll tend to do.

It seemed to have turned out pretty well, however. The entire thing.

But I can't be too sure yet because I've been away.

I'll find out soon enough when I get back.

In the meantime, you can't imagine just how many times I've silently appealed to The Lord above to "just let the whole thing work out".

I don't even know what I mean by those words exactly, but I'm sure that He does.

And that He will.

The entire episode has been really draining for me.

Without really expecting it, I broke down and cried last night.

It was a good cry, like a good, clean catharsis.

I didn't feel any worse for wear after that.

There's going to be a Part Two.

I'll write more when it happens.

2005-09-04T06:37:00.000+08:00

If there's ever one thing that I'm waiting for right now (other than a new job), it's chance.

Just one chance.

I'm waiting till the sun sets and the days past, waiting till the cows come home.

And still waiting. Waiting.

Waiting for that one chance to manifest itself.

Seriously, there's actually no need for me to wait. But no, the perfectionist in me wants everything to be perfect. The timing, the mood, the vibes. The feeling.

Wait a minute.

What if it will never turn out right? The way I want it to.

Am I going to continue waiting? That would be completely foolish.

You can't believe just how big a dilemma I've gotten myself into.

And it's been seriously overdue.

Like how Charlie describes it when he presents Willy to his father, Wilbur Wonka, after a separation of goodness-knows-how-many-years, where both father and son eventually reunite, and the one comment to that by Charlie was, "He's overdue".

I'm overdue.

If for once, everything will just work out alright, I'll be eternally grateful.

Really.

Just one chance.

2005-09-03T14:11:00.000+08:00

I think my blog's pathetic.

There used to be a time when I'll blog about almost anything and everything, a time when I was utterly forthcoming in my words and when I spared no punches.

A time when this space served as a great catharsis, a refuge, a place I'll always return to and once I've left my mark, everything will seem alright again.

A time when I'll blog almost everyday, sometimes even twice a day, and I never found it to be a chore.

A time when I actually delighted in being a public display, when I'll (gawd!) "advertise" my blog to friends.

A time when I was completely confident of my verbal prowess and superb writing abilities.

Things just aren't the same anymore.

I'm not sure what changed. Me or the blog.

**

I'm tormented at work.

I'm making such a huge risk whenever I write about work, because it's such a sensitive issue and lotsa companies just aren't prepared to have their employees typing away and displaying their grievances to the world.

But, since I've already said it, here goes. I'm tormented at work.

You cannot just imagine how utterly bored and uninspired I am every single waking day.

This is actually comparable to going for Math class back in the days of yore.

That's how terrible the situation is.

And it just doesn't help that I'm currently in a "hermit-like" state.

Meaning I actually seriously believe-it-or-not enjoy just staying at home the whole day doing nothing but reading sleeping and watching telly.

To prove my point, I'd purposely omitted all punctuation in my last sentence.

And I'm A-OK with not going out shopping, prowling the streets as if I'm in search of gold (or a rich hubby), or not meeting ANYONE for that matter.

That's how seriously steeped I am in hermit-zone.

The only time when I had no choice but to look for people to hang out with was when I desperately wanted to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory like a gazillion times and I didn't want to do it alone.

If one day, I can get past myself to just begin watching movies on my own, I would have seriously abolished all reason for human companionship.

Yes, not even sex.

I can't wait for that day to arrive.

2005-08-22T04:44:00.000+08:00

The past week has been very colorful indeed.

Wed saw me entering Velvet for the first time in "celebration" (how odd, that phrase) of a colleague's impending farewell from our company.

I liked that place. Velvet.

One thing about it is that it looks cosy without being overtly classy. There's this area which they call the lounge that I like especially. It's cordoned off from the main dancing floor and people just lounge in there, literally. Of course, when there's a lack of seats, most people end up standing around. But still, it's aight.

And in that place, you really get to see some of the most-dressed up people around. Some of the hunkiest dudes/models. Some of the prettiest babes/models/celebs. It's good eye candy. When you get bored with the conversation, just glance up and around and you'll hit jackpot. It's that easy.

I saw Sara Ann K and Fiona Xie that very night I was there.

And in that place, I met a stranger.

The very same stranger that I was talking about in my last post.

He's worth commemorating in my blog because he is the first official stranger that I ended up carrying off a really long conversation with whilst in a club (and no, he didn't try to strike up a conversation by attempting to pick me up), and..

He's the first official stranger who (by his powers of persuasion) managed to convince me and my colleague into having supper at his place after drinks. At 3.30am in the morning of a workday.

This is going to go down as one of the few crazy things that I did in my entire life (I don't have many of these, being the cautious bitch that I am).

And let's be honest here.

It was great fun. Even though me and my colleague were both dead tired from the entire episode.

And you know what, I'm going to start doing more crazy and unexpected and spontaneous things in my life. Starting from now.

In his words, let's live life. Life is beautiful.

Whatever are you waiting for?

***

Fri saw me celebrate another colleague's birthday at this really ulu place called Villa Bali.

And gawd, I love that place.

It's really like miniature Bali in Singapore, if that's ever possible.

You know that kind of feeling? Where you just feel like wearing one of those loose Mambo shirts and loose berms and sandals and just totally relaaaaaax in your surroundings with a good glass of wine?

This is the place which gives you that kind of feeling.

And how I love those little pavilions that they have!! =)

And you know what is the best part?

Me and 2 other colleagues spent the night there, and the staff didn't even once care.

We slept in that pavilion (though it was somewhat uncomfortable) until 7am in the morning, and everything looked oh so beautiful in the early morning light.

It was truly amazing.

If we had breakfast served to us (Mac hotcakes) right there and then, it would have been awesome.

Complete perfection.

On hindsight, the only bad thing out of spending the night there was that I was almost frozen to death, with only a thin shawl and a pillow to protect me from the cold and the fan (yes, we left the fan on, even tho we weren't allowed to).

I love it whenever we do spontaneous things like that.

Love it love it love it.

***

Sat saw me meeting up with my JC friends since like the longest time that we have met up.

It was great, some of those pals were pals that I have not seen for months.

And I just love how we make each other laugh.

And how we all love to eat. And drink. And eat.

I don't know what else to say about that night, except this.

The wine was great, the company was great and I know that this is one bunch of friends that I'm going to keep until I'm old and grey.

I love you guys. =)

2005-08-18T13:31:00.000+08:00

Should you fight for something that you want very very badly?

Even though you know that in fighting for that something that you want, you might be viewed as unethical/unscrupulous/just being a plain bitch?

A stranger that I met last night told me to go for it. Follow my heart. Whatever that may be.

Live for today. Plan for tomorrow.

Die without any regrets, were his exact words.

I'm so tempted to heed his advice. Even though deep inside me, I know that such a lifestyle is self-centred, and not Christ-centred.

I want to do what's right. Not what I want most.

Should I or should I not? Am I being too harsh on myself all this while?

Do I really need to lighten up and live life as he said?

Someone please tell me.

I need to know.

2005-08-11T23:46:00.000+08:00

I caught Nip/Tuck the other night and one of the lines that this psycho/manic depressive has-been plastic surgeon said to Christian (the drop-dead gorgeous, rich hunk of a supremely successful plastic surgeon) stuck to my mind.

"Jealousy is seeing someone with something that you want, and you working harder to get it. Envy is knowing that someone has something that you want, and that you'll never be able to obtain it. No matter how hard you try."

Something like that.

I didn't say it quite so well as the character in the show did.

But boy, was it good.

How apt, duncha think?

Going by that definition, I guess I have tasted envy before.

It's like a slow but deadly poison, working its way deftly within you, and before you actually realise it, you're trapped by its cruel, horrid grasp, ensnaring you, and you can find no way out.

And the irony of it all is, it's torturing you from within.

You're torturing yourself from within.

Your mind convinces you that you're in such a pathetic state, that the universe conspires against you to prevent you from reaching for your stars, that your family owes you a gawddamn living, that God Himself majorly let you down when He failed to demonstrate one of His crazy miracles to deliver you from all that's pulling you apart.

Hell no.

Snap out of it already.

Yes, you.

2005-08-09T14:44:00.000+08:00

Why-ever did I go and start a new blog?

Oh yah. Reason being I couldn't get back into my old one.

Maybe I shoulda have emailed Blogger Support for help. It somehow doesn't feel right here.

Do you think they may be able to give me back my user access to my old blog? Huh, huh, huh?!

By the way, Charlie and the Choc Factory was far too wacky. I laughed quite a bit but I would have preferred more heartwarming bits, if you know what I mean.

There were even certain bits that were rather lame. Like how Johnny Depp keeps slamming headfirst into his Glass Elevator.

Which totally makes sense anyways, how can you see and not walk into one? Whatever was Willy Wonka thinking when he decided to make it totally glass?

Maybe it was Tim Burton's take on satirism, I really do not know.

But the entire show just did not do it for me the way I'd imagined it, before I watched it. Which is a pity, really.

But I'm not going to give up just yet.

Which is WHY I'm going to watch it just one more time.

Just once.

2005-08-01T22:30:00.000+08:00

I'm taking leave on Wednesday, Aug 3, to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

*_______________________*

Call me nutty but I really do not care. I just want to sit through the entire show without a single drop of drowsiness and enjoy myself as much as I can.

I can't imagine how lucky I am to be able to do exactly that in 2 days.

I'm not the Cindy that I know. Sometimes, that's really how I begin to feel.

I'm not sure who or what I'm changing into, but I welcome it.

Maybe people will like me better with the new me.

2005-07-25T04:37:00.000+08:00

I survived the 2 weeks.

There were times when I thought I might collapse from fatigue, and many a time when I actually fell asleep at my desk. But thankfully, all that is over now.

My boss will be back tomorrow, and I wonder what her reaction will be after she finds out all that happened while she was away.

Would she be pleased? I really do not know.

I think I did the best I could during the time she was away. Sacrificing rest and enjoyment to finish the work. Though my own work had been piling up during those 2 weeks.

Now that all that is over, I finally allow myself to feel tired.

And yes, I am tired. So much so that I'm thinking of taking a long break.

Not that I have anywhere to go or anything to do. But just staying at home and lying in bed might not be that bad an idea afterall.

2005-07-19T15:31:00.000+08:00

I survived Monday.

Tuesday in a few hours and 3 meetings, 1 clean-up to go.

Please eyes, stay awake.

2005-07-17T15:41:00.000+08:00

This past week has been crazy my boss went on leave so now i'm the de facto team leader which is really funny considering I'm only a Senior Officer and basically paid peanuts to do the work I do and yet they still expect me to strut around like I really have the authority and power to manage a whole team of clerks who have enough work experience pooled together to squash me and kill me with a stamp like a dead fly.

Did I say the past week was crazy?

And the worst possible thing that could have happened happened during this week.

In my department, we have this dreaded word which everyone breaks out into cold sweat and starts getting into fits whenever they hear it.

Nope, it's not 'retrenchment'.

Or whatever you were thinking of.

It's called 'clean-up' and basically it just means that hey, someone screwed up at their job previously resulting in a whole chain of events which needed rectification or else MAS will come after our backs and now we have to 'clean up' the shit, so to speak.

And I was handed the shit to be in charge of 'cos hey, your team leader ain't around right now, so yah, for your kind attention and necessary action, pls.

I went back to work on Saturday to clean up the shit and no, I'm not proud of it. The deadline is on Wednesday and I don't want to be informed later that the clean-up which I did required another clean-up. Which is why I'm doing my all to make sure that whatever I'm doing right now is right and not full of shit.

I've been sending out masses of emails too. Can you believe that the higher-ranking staff of the world basically just does 2 things and that makes up the bulk of their work and yup, fills out the requisiste 8.5 hours a day?

Those 2 things are: 1)read and 2)reply to emails.

So everyday, I'm doing the above 2 things. And going for meetings. Like every team leader does. LEAVING ME NO TIME TO DO MY DAILY WORK.

Which is why I have to stay back and work late. Only during the night when nobody comes to disturb you can productivity reach its peak.

I have 1 more week of such to go through. And that deadline on Wednesday. And one other deadline. I can't remember which.

Now pray that I don't just drop dead in front of my big boss.

2005-07-10T17:33:00.000+08:00

I like lazy Sundays where the only thing that happens is rain.

And all I get to do is remain indoors, cuddled up with a good book, some of my favourite Nightmare Before Christmas music, and the occasional awesome movie on tv.

Recently, I've realised that it takes little to make me inwardly happy. Little in that it takes very little for others to make my day, and that I need to do very little for myself to feel better after a horrid day.

A sms or two from a friend who remembers you to ask after you.

A meet-up with your old girlfriends where the highlight of the day was sitting in the car singing old songs out loud with nary a care as to how you sound.

The thought that in a few months' time, I will get to watch some of the most-anticipated movies ever - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on Aug 4, Tim Burton's Corpse Bride in Sept and C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia in Dec.

The thought of how the Corpse Bride toys will look when they are launched later this year.

Spending hours in Kinokuniya Children's Section just scouring old titles of books that I read when I was young, and remembering that I'd read this, and yes, I'd read that too!

Buying children's books for my friends for them to share in my simple joy.

Staying up late at a friend's place watching my favourite films like Nightmare Before Christmas and Edward Scissorhands.

Being able to listen to some sermons on the road you as you prepare for a long day's work ahead.

I'm thinking of shifting to another blog soon. And so, this may be more short-lived than I'd thought.

2005-05-19T13:16:00.000+08:00

This is a temporary blog template.

Might be a tad too pink for most people, but hey, it's my blog, so dig it or scram it.

Ha ha.

Back to what I wanted to blog about.

You know you've really grown up when you change your view about certain things.

Like your definition of "sweet".

A year back, I might have thought certain messages were sweet.

Or certain gestures for example.

Like someone buying you a gift you've always wanted.

Or feeding you porridge when you're sick and bedridden.

Well, certain things don't change.

I still think that looking after someone when he/she is sick is a sweet gesture.

But now, the gift isn't really that important.

I remember how for my 21st birthday, a friend gave me a bible.

I was miffed, to say the least.

First of all, it wasn't the bible that I wanted.

And, of ALL things, why did he have to give me a bible?

Did he find me not "spiritual" enough?

Did he think that I needed to acquaint myself with God's Word?

I was offended somewhat.

And now, 2 years later, my view has changed.

I thought it sweet when I received empty CDs as a gift (so that I can burn music onto the CDs).

Now, I think it sweet that a friend gave me audio CDs containing sermons for me to listen to.

But I guess it just gets better.

When someone gives you a tape cassette containing a sermon for you to listen to, AND, along with it, loans you his walkman to go with it (knowing full well that you don't have one of these).

Something like that might not mean much to most people.

But I just thought that it was one of the sweetest gestures I'd ever received.

Thank you.

2005-05-19T00:01:00.000+08:00

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to obedience and warmth.

In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored.

You'd like to your lover to think you are optimistic and happy.

You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic.

Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets.

Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.

You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred.

In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

2005-05-03T04:42:00.000+08:00

There are some people you meet in life who genuinely bring you up.

Or down.

Most others fall in between. These are those who don't seem to make much of a difference in your life.

I'm lucky.

I came to realise that there's at least one friend who has turned from a mere colleague to someone who's not only a friend but an encourager in Christ as well.

And I believe that this friend has been planted by God to bring me back to Him.

In moments like these, you stop regretting about the dozen or so other scumbags whom you'd innocently thought were your true friends. And then you knew better.

One such person erases the other dozen or so scumbags you've met in life.

That's the equation of my life that I've come to realise.

It seems unbalanced but I'm happy that there's at least one such person.

**

Whilst at Changi Airport yesterday, I bought a kaleidoscope.

I think it's just about the most beautiful contraption ever invented by man.

It's so simple, it's just mind-boggling.

Ironic, I know.

And then, I thought.

That the most beautiful things in life are often simple.

A kaleidoscope.

A child's smile.

Laughter.

The wink of an eye.

A hug.

Holding hands.

Looking at stars.

Silence.

Words.

A sense of awe.

Imagination.

Contentment.

The knowledge that someone genuinely cares for you.

Making someone's day.

**

I can't wait for the movie screening of A Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy to be out.

I'm currently devouring the book.

Just in time for the screening.

Please go read it if you haven't.

By the way, it's my first sci-fi book.

**

2005-04-26T17:53:00.000+08:00

Don't mind my blog.

It looks hideous now, I know.

The design's all gone, even the pic at the top.

Guess the owner probably removed the image-hosting.

In any case, this means a revamp.

Very soon.

Well. Depends on how available I am these days.

But it'll be new and readable in a jiffy, I promise.

Meanwhile, don't stay away.

2005-04-25T01:29:00.000+08:00

These days I've been reading my old blog online.

It's kinda sad that I can't access that blog to write in anymore.

After all, it represented a huge part of me. And my past.

Although I have to admit that, at times, I was cringing at some of the stuff that I wrote.

As I was going through the older entries (by month), and trying to search for my poems which I'd posted on the blog, I chanced upon a month of what I feel are my best entries.

Which is why I'm placing it here .

My personal fave is the pseudo-letter that I wrote to Pierre Png back in the days of the Slim 10 drama.

Go read it if you have absolutely nothing else to do.

And gosh.

It has been a good 2 years since I've started blogging.

It really didn't feel that long to me.

No it didn't.

2005-04-24T00:43:00.000+08:00

I rejected an offer by BTM on Friday.

It was agonizing to arrive at that decision. Everyone else around me were egging me to go for it, claiming better prospects and such.

There were a few simple reasons why I did what I did.

Firstly, they can't even match my current salary of $2.3k. How dismal, really.

Secondly, I don't fancy the idea of working in a predominantly Asian corporate culture.

Thirdly, and most simply, I don't envision myself being very much happier over there.

And perhaps the third reason is the most important reason.

I went with my gut. And followed my heart.

I'm not going to deny that after I'd conveyed my decision to the bank's HR, I felt this tinge of sadness welling up in me.

Don't ask me why.

I guess it was just appropriate.

2005-04-20T12:36:00.000+08:00

LEAVE ME ALONE

That's the mood that I'm feeling as well as projecting today.

I'm tired of being in this office and seeing these people.

I'm tired of everything and everyone.

All I want to do is just to lock myself up in Kinokuniya and never get out, just dwell amongst shelves and shelves of books that do not make noise, and that do not talk, but yet project a million million thoughts and emotions all at once.

And it's not like I had a fight with anyone.

I just feel this way.

2005-04-20T12:26:00.000+08:00

This is a new love story

If you have Quicktime, you've got to preview Tim Burton's new upcoming movie, Corpse Bride .

Many of you may not know my insanely insane respect and admiration for Tim Burton.

It started one day many many moons ago when I'd first watched Edward Scissorhands. Who doesn't love that movie, tell me and I'll give you a left-right-up-down.

And then there was Sleepy Hollow (somewhat of a let-down, but still impressive visually).

And, for the first and only time, an old friend introduced me to his all-time favourite movie, Nightmare Before Christmas.

I still remember the old apprehension I had when I sat in his massive bedroom watching the show for the first time. To me, the title sounded scary. Like something akin to Friday the 13th.

It was anything but.

It was a show with vivacity, colours and music.

A show with characters so queer, they reminded me of Edward Scissorhands. Only cuter.

And that was how I fell in love with a show that scared me s***less at first (just by the name). Up till today, it still stays in my mind like an eternal ghost.

The awe for the films' creator revived when I was browsing at Kinokuniya one day and spotted a small blue suede-covered book.

By Tim Burton.

It wasn't really a book.

It was a collection of poems on more weird characters. Laced with macabre and a dark sense of humour.

With names like Oyster Boy and Stain Boy.

Right up my alley.

That small book is on one of Kinokuniya's best-seller lists.

And then there was Sally.

The heroine in Nightmare Before Christmas presented to me in a small parcel.

She now sits watching all the goings-on with her huge, lidless eyes on the top of my CPU at my work-area.

And then there's the musical box with miniature Sally perched lonely in the middle.

And a backdrop of the movie used as a backdrop for the musical box.

And don't even let me start on Beetlejuice.

I feel like a kid experiencing childhood all over again.

Or rather.

An adult catching up on lost time.

No wonder.

I only read as a kid. Now that explains it.

2005-04-19T14:05:00.000+08:00

The more you know what you want, the more you realize how far away you are from it.

That’s the reality of life.

And that’s how you stop sucking on your thumb and grow up as well.

Because the reality of life would have hit you so hard in your face wham-bam! that all of a sudden, you just know.

How true it is.

And that’s me.

I’ve come to realize what I want, and at the same time, what I need.

That’s the price you pay for growing up.

It’s like a double-edged sword.

With growth and knowledge comes dismay and discontent.

My life summed up in one sentence.

Hooray.

2005-04-10T17:26:00.000+08:00

I guess a few people might be concerned about the state of my interviews, so here goes.

I called Barclays a week after the one and only interview that I had with them. Turns out I wasn't shortlisted.

I was disappointed, to say the least.

But surprisingly, it took me only a day to get over it.

As for the other B, Bank of Tokyo-Mitsuibishi, I've gone for 3 rounds of interviews already.

It's getting too much for me to bear. I don't think I have the stamina to keep up with any more interviews.

On my 3rd round, I actually met 2 different groups of interviewers.

All in all, I reckon I've seen 9-10 individuals from that department alone.

They're really being very very cautious in their selection, indeed.

But, contrary to what some of my peers think, I'm not so strung-up about whether or not I will be selected.

If they do select me, fine and dandy.

If not, it just means that God wants me to stick around UOB for a bit more.

Up to date, I'm not crazy about heading over to BTM, it's not like such a big deal to me.

So, we'll just see what goes.

2005-04-10T16:51:00.000+08:00

This is so cool.

One of them says what I'm feeling right now.

Guess which one is it.

As for you.

Go ahead.

Post a secret.

I promise not to tell.

2005-03-14T22:33:00.000+08:00

I thought I would skip this here, but then again, circumstances decided no, that I should write it down and share it with you peeps.

Prior to the interview with Barclays, I went for another interview during the same week, this time with Bank of Tokyo Mitsubishi for a position in Corporate Banking.

I wasn't that enthusiastic about it in the first place, as I'd thought that a Jap corporate culture wouldn't suit me.

Furthermore, during the interview, they proved me ignorant when the interviewers questioned me about the kind of products that Corporate Banking offered to customers.

I had no hell of an idea.

Turns out they were heavy shite like derivatives, securities, forex, structured deposits and whatnot.

Totally Greek to me.

And I didn't even pretend to be embarrassed by my ignorance.

What's more, I really asked for it by writing down "$2700" for my expected salary. Way too high in anyone's opinion.

I was really trying to push my luck that day.

And just when I thought that that's the last I would hear from that bank, waddaya know, they called me to arrange for a 2nd interview today.

My colleagues at work totally flipped out.

They weren't expecting me to be so lucky.

Maybe March's my month or something.

But then again, I'm really just waiting for the other B.

Barclays.

C'mon now, don't let me down, wil ya?

2005-03-12T19:05:00.000+08:00

I know I haven't been blogging for a while now. Bad me.

It's not for a lack of stories that I've kept away. In fact, the past week has been really eventful indeed.

It's just that inability to pen your thoughts into words surfacing again. Dismal, I know.

Ok, back to the past week.

The one thing that I would really like to highlight is that I went for a screening interview with Barclays Capital on Friday. It was one of those "sneak out for another interivew during lunch-time" thingy that I did, and boy, was it exhilarating.

Truth be told, I knew nuts about the world's leading investment bank prior to the interview.

It was only after the interview that I scoured the bank's websites and discovered, to my sheer joy, that I actually LIKED the firm. Or that I would actually wish to work in such a dynamic environment.

In short, I had a pleasant time during the interview. In my own words, it went splendidly.

Not to say that I would definitely clinch the next interview for sure.

The fact is, I don't want to jinx it by saying too much here.

But I would be lying through my yellow teeth if I said I didn't care.

So, I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed for now. There're supposed to be another 2-3 rounds of interview to go.

And in case you didn't know, Barclay's office is located at The Atrium next to Plaza Singapura. It's that very good-looking glass building where Baker'z Inn is housed.

Enough about it for now. As I said, I don't want to jinx it.

2005-02-28T04:11:00.000+08:00

A comment from an ex-team leader about me on Friday made me ponder.

About how much I've grown, or rather, how much more street-wise I've become at work.

Before I move too ahead of myself, let me fill you in on the event that brought about the comment.

Something cropped up at work last-minute on Friday, which was brought to the attention of my ex-team leader, and resulted in her having to drag her ass into the picture. I wasn't really handling the case, because my colleague from the same team was handling it, but as she had to go off work in a rush, and I was the only one left, she brought the case to my attention and asked me to call her if it could not be settled.

After my colleague left, my ex-team leader (let's call her Y) came to me and said she did the best she could, that there's nothing much else she could do for the case. I immediately called up my colleague on her mobile, and had her fill me in on the background of the case.

The entire time that I was conversing with my colleague on the phone, and firing her questions along the way, Y was standing next to me, listening in on the conversation.

She heard something that I'd said on the phone, which prompted her, and she immediately took action.

Turned out that that something that I'd said gave her an idea, which helped us to solve the case in a jiffy.

When I'd put down the phone, she filled me in, and true enough, the case was settled afterwards just because of that.

Then she said something which surprised me.

Y (in Mandarin): Ni jing bu le. (roughly translated as "You've improved")

When I gave her a surprised look, she explained herself.

And this was what she said:

When you first joined us, you readily believed everything that other people said, and seldom questioned. But now, you know how to question and ask for evidence to show that something has been done. That is an improvement.

And I knew immediately that she was right.

I've always tended to trust people too easily, and to believe others' words too readily.

It's only after I've started working that I feel that I've grown up, that I know instinctively which words to believe and which words to doubt; when I should take action, and when I should not; when I should bring my boss into the picture and when I could solve it on my own.

And this is what you call experience.

Really, I've only worked for 8 months.

For 8 months, I've grown alot.

Alot.

2005-02-21T14:47:00.000+08:00

I was reminded of why I loved the Wedding Singer so much tonight.

It must have been at least the ~~3rd~~ 4th time that I've seen the movie on tv since I first caught it in the cinema way back when I was still in secondary school.

I'm a diehard romantic at heart, I guess.

How, may I ask, can any girl resist its perennial theme of love and romance that is captured so poignantly in the show?

My favourite scene in the movie happens towards the ending, when the character Billy Idol (the rock star) poses as the captain making an in-flight announcement to the plane's passengers.

Every time I watch that scene, I'll repeat the lines after him.

Especially: ".. and since we pretty much let our first-class passengers do whatever they want, here he is.."

Enter Adam Sandler with his crooning:

- "Grow Old With You" -

I wanna make you smile whenever you're sad
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad
All I wanna do is grow old with you.
I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches build you a fire if the furnace breaks
Oh it could be so nice, growin old with you.

I'll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold.
Need you, feed you, I'll even let you hold the remote control.
So let me do the dishes in the kitchen sink
Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink.
Oh I could be the man to grow old with you.

I wanna grow old with you.

Which girl in her right mind won't say yes to a guy who came up with such a song for her?

Not me.

Not anybody.