Friday, September 30
One down; two to go.
I have to draft press releases and letters of appeal for sponsorships.
No, wait - that is supposed to be corporate citizens in partnership.
Look, I haven't any idea how a professional press release looks like.
How the hell am I going to draft a decent one?
I need to find out how they look like.
Or sound like.
The job's pretty engaging, I must say.
I'm just working on my own and left to wade helplessly.
I'd rather that, of course, than someone who breathes down my neck half the time.
So I need poetry to help me breathe.
I need silly, dramatic Taiwanese serials to indulge in.
Like ???The Outsiders.
I got influenced by F.I.R.'s Lydia which is this show's theme or something.
Interesting show.
I keep laughing since they all look pretty silly.
It's gonna be a marathon to finish up the remaining 18 discs by Sunday night.
Alright.
Back to corporate citizenship now.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 10:19 AM
Wednesday, September 28
Lesson #1: I become seemingly happier around people.
Note to self: Seemingly.
Lesson #2: I ought to work off the negativities.
Note to self: Literally work, meaning that I start the job tomorrow.
Lesson #3: Stop talking to people so much.
Note to self: I am a bad influence; and just in case the 300 hours rule is valid.
The eden I seek is but, temporal.
Even if it's for a fleeting second.
I should just drop the optimistic shit of a pretense.
It's just not working for me.
Damned.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 11:35 PM
Tuesday, September 27
I am beginning to love life a little more.
I am beginning to love myself a little more.
See?
I told you it was seasonal.
All the ugly phases I go through, just like the moon.
I am beginning to love Him a little more.
More than life, itself.
Afterall, my life's not mine to keep.
It was bought over in that gruelling six hours on one friday.
For that, I feel a little less worthless.
Hmmmmmmmmm, I am actually worth quite a lot.
Now, I just want to dwell.
No - not just dwell, but dweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell.
Forget the pandemonium.
We all need to learn to be still and know Him.
Haaaaaaahhh.
I feel loved.
So all that has been happening were just frivolity.
The psychotic fun moments with mini mahjong, horror flash games, scheming against the freshies and story-telling.
Of course, that was amb camp, made more bearable with people like the wacky people I hung out with. See, at least I didn't suffer super deep blue alone - it's horrible to be doused with bucketfuls of ice water with pentel poster paint. And anyway, Greg got to show off his bod to Royston, his current obsessor, since his adidas (!) shirt was then tinted blue. Harie had fun cracking eggs over heads and Keith was brilliant at impersonating the F.E.A.R. girl.
F.E.A.R.
Ah yes, it looks like a cool game. Not that Royston and I were very much impressed with Keith's impersonation and raving, though. But seriously, looking at horror games when it's dead quiet all around you is enough to make you pee in your pants. It's the first time I had so much fun in amb camp, man. We should plan to take over the world next - Royston, Keith and I. Uh, plus the little girl from F.E.A.R. She can replace Greg since he fell asleep, that traitor.
And dammit, I am good at mini mahjong.
Really.
Children's Day is coming!
It's gonna be somemore fun this week in Sunday School! How are Mich, Jean and I going to pull Aretha Franklin's R-E-S-P-E-C-T song off? Oh wait - it's not us, it's Auntie Maggie. We're just the dancers around her. Ha, ha! I am convinced that Blue Brothers is an awesome show.
I do like the Sunday School, no matter how obnoxious, blur or annoying the kids may be. They are still adorable in their own ways (: I love the way they wave their hands and laugh. The way they run in circles and are all excited and sweaty. The way they shout at the top of their lungs till they are red in the face.
I want to have kids of my own!
d e b b e e e kvetched at 10:49 AM
Wednesday, September 21
La Der Des Ders.
Truly the last?
It's seasonal, perhaps.
One phase ends to begin another.
She never lived.
Has she?
She shrinks like cytoplasm.
Her cynicism,
her emotions,
her store of cacao beans -
lovingly osmotic.
Drawing in breaths of stale air - have you lived?
She only remembered the rush of cacao beans in her mouth.
The times her eyes sprang into a salty stream of strength.
Spy the intricacy of such mastered embroidery on her pulsating organ.
These spelt life.
They said life tastes good.
A little sweet, a little sour, a little bitter.
Garnish with a healthy measure of saltiness.
Bottoms up.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 12:56 AM
Tuesday, September 20
I got sick of html tags.
They are dead useful and such a chore.
Gaaah!
I triumphed over them.
Sweet victory is mine.
Debbeee underwent a major facelift.
Now, don't you just love Calvin?
I adore him simply because I can see myself in him.
Just like how I can see myself in Garfield, too.
Calvin hates school; so do I.
Calvin loves Hobbes; I love dotdot.
Calvin waxes dada-philosophical; I spew dada-philosophical.
See the resemblance?
Seriously, school has got to be real bad if one has Miss Wormwood.
But it's alright for Calvin - he has Susie Derkins with him.
I like to think that he only sees her in his world.
These weeks are going to be jam-packed with fun-filled family frolics!
First up was the wedding last Saturday.
Then came the dinner-cum-karaoke on Sunday.
Next will be my mother's birthday dinner this coming Saturday.
Oh yes, my family places much emphasis on good food.
Wait.
Did anyone warn me about the dangers of this place?
That of revealing too much and that of a certain emptiness in the soul?
I think I'm suffering the side-effects now.
Doubled, possibly tripled, by Alice Sebold who frightens me with life in the face of death.
Life in the face of death.
Not death in the face of life.
To be living when a loved one is dead is ___.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 1:14 PM
Sunday, September 18
Weddings!
Glorious, joyous, boisterous events!
Handsome pageboys, pretty flowergirls and yummy yam!
Forgive me for the abundance of exclamation marks.
It is merely the frivolity of life returning to haunt?
I demand flash presentation instead of microsoft powerpoint for my wedding. Okay, mine may be a little too far away, so make that my brother's wedding then. Powerpoint! How much of a laggard can a wedding be? Powerpoint is so anti-climatic, so unglam.
I demand flash.
I demand flash.
Anyway, it was hilarious when this eye candy of a waiter walked right into the light hanging from a huge stand that formed half an archway at the aisle near me. His forehead collided painfully with the light; the whole stand swayed precariously; he looked positively ready to burst with embarassment.
My brother and I were mean enough to roar with laughter.
As an afternote, I really do like weddings. Excluding the yam seng parts lah. Oh, and the 'when is it your turn?' bombs. Or the ultimate 'why you don't have boyfriend ah?' nuclear bombs. Gaaah.
I am going to die from overdose of gaming. Can someone be kind enough to ask me out for March of the Penguins?
Huh, Megan?
Huh, bebe(s)?
Huh, MHA?
Huh, anyone?
Watch me turn
frumpy,
grumpy,
dumpy.
But for now, I like weddings and will be happy for the next 5 hours, at least.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 12:21 AM
Friday, September 16
I am so bored, I'll post entries every single day, I reckon.
This is holidays?
This is holidays!
Days of awaking well past noon;
time passed lolling around in bed with books and chips;
liberty to pick up paintbrushes and canvas;
nothing but games and songs swirling in my Mind.
Splendid.
I just have such a niche (note: not boring) life of books, games and acrylics. Plus a little guitar and that's the one. Simple and thoroughly enjoyable.
Books, they make the most of my life. I'm currently on this book entitled The Boy Who Couldn't Stop Washing. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorders and its darker, scarier, multi-faceted side. Apparently, such disorders are not just confined to the limitations of cleanliness or physical aspects, even. One can helplessly censor his/her thoughts in a disorder, too.
Thoughts. Then life will be a never-ending game of police-and-thief, hide-and-seek, or block-catching with oneself. It saps your energy, does it not? I shudder with every page I turn of that book. Terribly engaging, it is.
Actually, it was my brother who purchased the book on account of our collaborated suspicions that he was somewhat obsessed with cleanliness. See, he uses dettol disinfectants, magic wipes for the floor, mini-vacuum for his bed, and scolds me when I leave a small clutter on the computer work desk. He has an inexplicable need for tidiness which annoys me. I am the perfect sloth afterall. My bed is akin to the battlefield after an atomic bomb attack, minus the radioactivity, naturally.
My mother is fiddling with the guitar now, strumming aimlessly and quite happy that she's producing some form of sound. It is a funny sight. She can't really hear very well, you see, due to old age. She's much older than many of my peers' parents. Anyway, she loves songs with heavy basslines since that's something she can hear very clearly, what with lower frequencies being able to sensitise her eardrums. Effectively, she fancies techno instead of Theresa Teng. I am so proud of her.
As Emily was telling me that Audrey Hepburn was a 20inch-er, I was mortified. My mother was a 22inch-er back in her salad days and that's considered a mean feat. I am way fatter than that, which is a fact my mother never fails to point out. She can be brutally honest when she wants to. She has been nagging about my size this week because we have to attend my cousin's wedding tomorrow and somehow, she shrewdly sniffed out my wardrobe-worries.
Damn, she's right.
Sometimes, I think she's worried that I will be left on the shelf, yet secretly harbouring hopes that I will embrace singlehood and stay with her all her life. It's not entirely impossible, of course. Then again, she will probably be driven to her grave earlier than expected by me since we always have petty half-a-day-squabbles. Her blood pressure is already high, oh dear, is that a hereditary thing? I know I should have pretty clogged up arteries by now. But my blood pressure is low sometimes, so does that offset the entire process?
Since it's holidays now, I ought to start my culinary lessons with my mother. I think it's true that emotions play a part in the art of culinary, as with all other forms of art. When my mother's feeling great, her dishes are superb. Inversely, when she's pissed off, her food comes out a little off. Oh, I must pick up sewing, knitting and embroidery from her too. We have this antique-ish manual sewing machine at home. Get this - manual as in one has to keep your her legs on the see-saw thing below and step continually to activate the machine. Of course, my mother's not that ignorant. She attaches an external 'stepper' that runs by electricity which just needs one-time pressure to keep on sewing, just like that of a car, instead of the see-saw thing.
One thing that I did not inherit from my mother: love for all things green. She adores plants and flowers and even cacti. I only fancied growing green beans at the tender age of nine. She has flourishing orchids and gigantic red flowers which could be hibiscus outside the corridor. I was never able to share in her excitement when a plant starts blooming. It's beyond my capabilities. Really.
As I've resolved to pack in my morosity, I decided I should change the layout here. Seriously, I am very fond of this GoAway one. It defined me for longer than I had expected. I'll look around for something that will define me away from the prying eyes of many, under layers of veil and sash. It sounds woozy now, but I'm quite certain I can find what I want. It'll be like my eden, where I hold the exclusive knowledge of its existence, and others think of it as a dream.
Edenisation.
You know, like urbanisation?
I demand edenisation.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 1:00 PM
Thursday, September 15
I need professional help.
I can't get a move on in life without impulse.
I dislike planning for activites - if I plan in advance, I'll probably forsake the plans two hours before its commencement.
It's definitely not what you might term fickle-mindedness.
I just need to act on a immediate thought to feel good.
Anything otherwise just don't measure up.
Maybe it is the sloth in me that rejects plans.
Gaah! I want something exciting and topsy-turvy!
I am so boring.
When I am in school, I yearn for holidays.
When holidays settle in, I anticipate the next semester.
I am a freak.
Oh oh, this is a fun topic to expound on.
Let's play 10 reasons why debbeee's a li'l strange.
1. she loves grocery shopping
2. she eats at snail pace
3. she wants to take chinese presentation skills
4. she... actually has a baby pillow christened 'dotdot'
5.
Alright, I can't think of anymore now.
It's not fun to expose myself like that.
I want to hear from others, so go ahead - don't show mercy.
I'm certain Megan's mouth is twitching furiously already.
Going off to tuition a kid.
Later.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 3:10 PM
Monday, September 12
Unearthly hours, ideally two to four in the early mornings.
When my mind is clearer than ever.
Truest, too.
Yet, the danger lies in holding conversations at this time since I tend to talk a little too much while my mind packs itself. It is no good, no good at all. Incidentally, I have much opinions I ought to keep to myself. It is always wiser to keep mum than personify a loud-hailer. Not everyone can empathise with my cocoa(80%) inertia theory.
Don't ask - I plead the fifth.
I rest my case.
MRM's really difficult, but I put my trust in He who holds my world in the palm of His hand. I've been undeserving, especially of late, but He's always so faithful. I feel ashamed of myself, and somemore.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 3:35 AM
Thursday, September 8
It's eleven in the morning on Thursday.
I had my breakfast (yes, finally a healthy lifestyle but note the breakfast was unhealthy) and I'm online reading a very interesting blog and listening to Eisley. I am then, mildly surprised at the sudden revelation: I have two exam papers next week which have not yet been studied for.
I brush aside all these mundane thoughts and continued my indulgence.
Who the hell cares about longitudinal research methods when there's Eisley? They fall into the same league as Cranberries and Sixpence None the Richer. The beautiful melodious voices, harmony and imaginative lyrics plus a slight melancholy feel set apart their songs. I feel contented now. After all that has crashed down upon me, I feel the tranquility. I decided to adopt a very effective mantra:
"... however lousy you may feel,
there must be some other fool
out there who is suffering
more than you do."
I've turned optimistic, I think. Let me leave you with an Eisley addiction, for now.
(My darling will have to be my precious... grades)
I Wasn't Prepared
by Eisley
Oh, when the day is blue
I'll sit here wondering about you
And how the pollen fell all around your face
In strange yellow patterns, but
I wasn't prepared for this, I...
I wasn't prepared for this, I...
When the morning came,
the bees flew down and wrapped themselves
around me and that's when I spoke the word to
have them trace your face for me in pollen. But...
I wasn't prepared for this, I...
I wasn't prepared for this, I...
Come, come back to me my, my darling
Come, come back to me my, my darling
I wasn't prepared for this, I...
I wasn't prepared for this, I...
When the day is blue
I'll sit here wondering about you...
Actually, I take back my words.
I am alarmed at the amount of studying I have to catch up with. We'll have to part here, debbeee. Debbie has to bid farewell and seek her precious grades in solitude.
Till then.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 10:50 AM
Wednesday, September 7
" HAH! "
A snort of contempt for everyone, including yours truly.
When the ancient Chinese nodded their heads in circular motions in a sure act of wisdom to reciting,
"Yi Shan Hai Bi Yi Shan Gao"
(There'll always be a mountain taller than this)
I'm almost certain the historians forgot to record the complete saying with the latter chain,
"Yi Gu Hai Bi Yi Gu Shen"
(There'll always be a valley deeper than this)
How else can these wrinkly old men be deemed wise? I fell in deeper than the deepest ravine I could ever have envisioned, yet the slide still declines to cease. I feel like I can empathise with a quarter of Job now.
Seriously, tasting a whole range of emotions within a span of six days tires me out so. What's my remedy?
chomp slurp chew
gobble wolf nibble
devour munch gulp
"i am done for, therefore i eat."
- debbeee
d e b b e e e kvetched at 12:17 AM