GoAway.

2008-01-10T04:47:00.000+08:00

I fucking need a white Kit-Kat now.

If I dropped everything now and ran away to Lapland, nobody would know. This sense of aloneness is strangely beautiful; I wish I could be used to it.

But of course, who do I kid?

2008-01-09T05:19:00.000+08:00

I'm really falling in love.

If my heart breaks this time, I may never recover this lifetime.

Then, I may well become Lady Lazarus.

I hate to say all these, dammit.

2006-09-13T21:52:00.000+08:00

China bans Wordpress.

):

Being the first update from Hangzhou, I ought to kick the whole episode off with a smile. BUT but but Edenisation is banned here. How horrible.

It's been an unbearably cold week here in Hangzhou. Knitted sweaters are my best friends now, seriously. Truth to be told, the weather right now, though bitterly cold, is perfect for a pensive moment. How annoyingly befitting of my moods.

Oh, and they banned Wikipedia, dammit.

Pictures will be up once I upload them.
Till then.

2006-07-25T21:30:00.000+08:00

Exactly two months after my last update, things turned pretty awry. Or maybe it's just me peering through tinted lens, curling my upper lip at the sights in disdain.

I'm so sad,
so sad,
so sad.

There.
I've said it.

That's a passion stolen away from me, and you know it.
I'll try to get over it, of course.
I'll try.

Meanwhile, I'll find another love.

2006-05-25T19:38:00.000+08:00

I hope this is safe enough a haven, 'cos I really need to say that I'm afraid of being left on the shelf. Even after everyone - Al, Em, Kim and Yves - walk down the aisle. That's a truly horrible nightmare. Can you imagine me setting up a spinster house?

Wah, that was one embarrasing moment.

---

Debbeee

2006-03-25T00:52:00.000+08:00

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2006-03-24T10:02:00.000+08:00

The shock didn't settle in too comfortably. Neither was it as quick as desired. The tears didn't overwhelm first-hand like anything in the telly. Everything was paced in slow-motion. I managed a few calls and msn conversations without breaking down. Then the anger wore out a hole in the dam. Friction of indignance widening it. All ended swiftly within twenty minutes. Not fast enough, but passable.

I'm good. I'll handle this with pride and courage. Still, prepare more chips and chocs and tissues, just in case.

2006-02-27T13:36:00.000+08:00

Flaring tempers. Someone?s just pretending to be strong and stubborn. Wheedling and yelling are impotent; the dreaded silence whittles away at the bloody heart.

Bloody fool.

She doesn?t want to go. But now she?s going anyway, thanks to the magical silence. Oh, why? A fear so overwhelming it?s already in her mouth. A fear so deep that she?s no longer hungry. ?No,? she thinks, ?Cecelia will not leave just like that. The robust, fun-lovin?, finger-lickin? matriarch.?

2006-01-19T23:07:00.000+08:00

Cast aside.
Bruised and tattered.
With pupils shining,
a strained song arises:

Go forth, then.
Leave me here.

You need me no more,
so I enclose my heart,
my tears.
Your memories.

With pupils shining,
frothing
the last breaths of a sacrificial death.

This is a calculated haste: half a spur of the moment, half an age old temptation.

I'm never quite the person to let go. In fact, I cling on awfully hard. Yet I don't wish to tarry on in a place that echoes with the ghosts of a scarred history, hence the shift. It's a new year afterall, and I have resolutions to keep. Goals to achieve. Objectives to meet. Rules to abide by. Wished to be fulfilled. Whatever it is, I'm ready for the draw of fresh air. On hindsight, this place will never be forgotten, for it has walked me through the two most difficult years of teenagehood.

It's got to be a win-win situation. I'll never raze this place down to oblivion. It'll be like revisiting an old friend, or the childhood playground at which I used to cry at the slides, or biting the colourful icing sugars off the tiny gem biscuits again. It's going to be like a door that never shuts between two worlds that co-exists on a parallel level and Time ceases to matter.

So, meet you at my new hideout.

2006-01-17T12:41:00.000+08:00

My head's about to explode in roughly, twenty-six seconds.

May I just hereby, condemn SIM's desserts stall because they [un]intentionally poisoned me? I am hardly the Snow White, for goodness' sake, so why put me through such an episode of misfortune? I'd rather be the dwarf anytime.

It's truly the night of a thousand shivers. I have never experienced a worse bus-ride. Every ten metres it moves seems to last half an hour. I felt like I was in icy Narnia, only without the nice fauns and centaurs. Heck, I didn't even have a girly fur coat!

I haven't eaten anything for the past nineteen hours. If I have to lose weight this way, I'd rather be a sumo-wrestler. I want to eat, but my stomach churns ever so vigorously at the mere thought of food. Ugh, I smell the devils that waft across the chilly air to taunt my stomach.

Thy kitchen hath no mercy. Oho! None at all.

Whatever it is, I hope the school won't debarr me because I am missing this entire day of lectures. To be ill is one stroke out of the censure of misfortune; to be debarred is two. To be debarred because I am ill is beyond the little tolerance I hold for the absurdities of life. Bah.

Alright, before my eyes are squelched out because the computer screen is hurting them, I shall go back to counting down before my head explodes. Or implodes. Gah.

2006-01-10T00:41:00.000+08:00

Jesus, won't You light my way?
Jesus, won't You light my way?

What grace is this?
That saved my soul!

My God, my God.

I give it all!

The endless rain (or so I supposed) finally ceased, much to my surprise and somewhat, dismay. Besides being deprived of the chance to wear jeans and pants, or anything that may get wet along the puddle-y streets, I thought it was really cool to wear three or more layers everyday.

Shiok, lah.

It's been a giddy week. Excitement aplenty, with a dash of glorious sadness. I am thankful for the wonderful surprises He has graciously given, but I'm battling [bloody] beliefs. The headaches, swollen eyes, Cathrine Lim novel and cheezels come together in a major conspiracy.

Toilet-bowl moments. Facing the white tiles, examining the patterned toilet paper, delicately tracing the checkered flooring with my toe. Perched atop the toilet-bowl with the cover on is an extremely uncomfortable position for aimless pondering - but just as well so I won't fall asleep there. It's not easy to find the solitude I crave for in an HDB flat, you see. There aren't many such spots or chances.

I want to take time to relax. My calculations shouldn't fail me: I should be released from the unrelenting clutches of school by third of March. That will mark the start of a new journey. Away, away! Away from it all. Solitude comes with a price.

I had a productive Saturday, unexpectedly. I had brunch with my mama, watched a hilarious Taiwanese drama showstarring Zaizai, 5566's variety show and Full Metal Alchemist together, painted her fingernails and got nagged at. How fulfilling, how comforting. She actually thinks that I am still eighteen. Oh, the horror. Haiyah, she's awfully disappointed because I am actually nearing the big two and have absolutely no potential suitors in sight. I promised her that I ought to be married by age twenty-six. I think she was a little unconvinced, still.

The yellow roses have bloomed under the kitchen basin.
My mama and I have funky yellow glitter nails.

Just for fun, I took tests to see if I've changed over the past year.
Unfortunately, I haven't.

INFP - "Questor". High capacity for caring. Emotional face to the world. High sense of honor derived from internal values. 4.4% of total population.

Take Free Jung Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Main type	Variant

Enneagram Test Results

Type 1	Perfectionism	36%
Type 2	Helpfulness	40%
Type 3	Image Awareness	46%
Type 4	Sensitivity	56%
Type 5	Detachment	73%
Type 6	Anxiety	56%
Type 7	Adventurousness	50%
Type 8	Aggressiveness	46%
Type 9	Calmness	56%

Your main type is 5
Your variant is self pres

Take Free Enneagram Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Time for some back-dated photographs (:
First up, the escapades of stellar programme "The Thirteenth Hour" (hour... hour... hour...)

Thank you, Gra+Gabby, for all the insanity, the kancheong-ness and the fun in the freezing radio production studios. You guys deserve the A in all its merit (:

On an irrelevant note: Gabby, c'mon! You freakin' spoilt my last picture with Nurul! Hmmph. I shall photoshop you away. Ha!

Anyway, I am in love with Dalet.
That's my recent boyfriend.
We met during Radio.

Oh, Dalet, Dalet.

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

I don't doubt the necessity of breaking down before God.

It's like going home to a listening ear,
a hand that wipes away your tear.

It's like going home to this smile waiting for you
at the kitchen table for two.

It's like going home to a love you know
that won't despise you, but only grow.

It's like finally going home at the end of a very, very long day.

It's been a wild week. An undetermined slither into my new year. Desmond Kon was inspiring, nonetheless. Thumbdrives were definitely evil. Assignment deadlines stretched me taut (I probably have stretch marks now) .

School, drab; self, crap.

Still, I can't thank God enough for granting me a voice and the little musical skills I possess to sing Him love songs. But I want to take all these to a higher level. There's a need to break off. There's a need to take off. All in time to come.

I love looking out of the window on buses. Running past the scenery on wheels forms my daily ruminating process. The only bad part is forgetting to alight and ending up late for my lessons. When I have time, I want to just take 30 from Bedok to Boon Lay. I think that'll be hell of a ride.

Mmm, I found this very interesting show on Channel U. Saturday nights, after Kang Xi Lai Le. It's so cute and amatuerish. The show is set in a Chinese high school, with a class of oddballs, troublemakers and school stars. There are problems the students face, the problems the teachers face and some very intriguing turns in the plot. Ah, the school days I never had.

I realised that something is very wrong. Looks are really deceiving. Emmy the Wormy said I looked like I don't like flowers. I don't like flowers? Oh good Lord! I like flowers! I love flowers! Don't judge me by my cover. I may look kind-hearted and an animal lover but seriously, I hate anything furry other than my bimbotic pen and luxurious feather boas. I look like I eat my greens but ha! I eat more chips than vegetables. So much for looking smart, now that I know looks totally contradict the truth beneath all the skin.

That is not the point, though. The point is to make it known that I love flowers. Emmy has a point: I must tell people then they will know mah. Fine! I like flowers, okay? So when I get married, will everyone please do me a favour and tell my beloved that I really, really like flowers?

Fwah! Channel 8 is showing reruns of Tofu Street (hahahahaha!) starring Cynthia Koh now at 3:05 am! I like that show!

Haiyah. I always want to blog about alot of stuff but by the time I plonk myself in front of the computer, I forget everything. THIS IS FREAKIN' ANNOYING.

Five more weeks to a brand new journey of self-discovery.
I can't wait for school to end.

2005-12-31T22:08:00.000+08:00

Happy New Year!

Spent my NYE afternoon with an old friend's worship team practice. I really like their environment: lovingly encouraging. Sure, patience wears thin, but the form of genuine friendship and care shines through such teeth-gritting times.

Sidenote: I need to declare my love for Borobudur's ang ku kueh!

I need to get going, get going, get going lahhh. Nothing's quite progressing academically and I'm fretting. C'mon! I spend so much money on freakin' school fees and I dare fall short of my own expectations? Someone slap some sense into me, please.

Moving onto something more exciting. We are going busking! That's Shannybabe, Emmy the Wormy and Maria! That'll be a cool 2006. Let's do this together! Let's sing, sing, sing and have fun!

You know, I was thinking that this blog lacks a little content. It's all just fragments and rambling. Nothing constructive or enlightening. 2006 will be a time of change (:

So.

Watch this space for renovations.

2005-12-27T11:51:00.000+08:00

4 jobs I've had in my life:

Pushcart sales
Relief teacher
Receptionist (actually, it's kopi-soh)
One of those temperature-takers at KK

4 movies I could watch over and over:

Jeux D'enfants
Romeo+Juliet
Black Hawk Down
Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights

4 TV shows you love to watch:

America's Next Top Model
Desperate Housewives
What Women Want Really
IN ?? Closet Affairs

4 of your favourite food:

Belachan Kangkong
Arnott's Mint Slice
Potato Chips
The non-existent McSpicy Double (It became single!)

4 schools you attended:

Bedok Town Primary
Dunman High School
St Andrews JC
Ngee Ann Poly

4 places I'd rather be now:

Tibetan mountains
Rome
Grocery shopping at NTUC
In my bed, dammit!

4 things you find yourself saying:

Wah liauuuuuuu!
Fwah!
Phooey.
Shudduppp!

2005-12-27T11:22:00.001+08:00

Horrid, horrid!

All I taste is the smarting bitterness that lingers on my tongue relentlessly - the taste of fever. No matter how many times I brush my teeth and scrape my tongue, it's there.

Phooey.

So, Christmas is past. (oh, finally)

No more maria(s), m'ams or turkeys (XXXXXL).
No more mops, feather dusters or pails.

It was a night of a thousand sneezes.

Pardon the minute hysteria, for I have fallen ill in the midst of Christmas camaraderie. How very unfortunate, I know. Blame no one, but the unscrupulous claws of the torturous institution called school. Why, I work harder than that fat, blubbery man in red suits this Christmas! 'Tis utmost injustice!

See lah. I am getting a little out of hand. The reins of emotional control are slipping out of my jelly hands. I get too happy and too kvetchy. I need to listen to some very happy songs.

Watch my triple chin! --> ((((:

2005-12-20T00:42:00.000+08:00

It's been a blessed birthday.
A wonderful closure to my eighteenth year of oxygen depletion.

I expected an ersatz eighteenth but I must admit, cynicism got the better of me a year ago. For the past 365 days, and counting, God's grace has been sufficient. If it cannot exactly be excellent eighteenth, at least a eureka eighteenth will do fine.

As I cross the obvious mark and leap into the last lap of my teenagehood, everything suddenly seems much more precious, much more real. There are a thousand things I want to try, and some more... ... Time is rather unkind. Having green hair is hardly acceptable beyond the big-two. Neither is shaving half my head, or trying kids meals, or simply acting plain stupid in public areas.

Of course, life is not all sweet and dandy for me. But that is besides the point, really. I learn to look at the brighter side and thank God for it. I mean, things can be much worse so why hanker after that which is beyond reach? I say it with ease; I do it with strife. I cannot help being a terribly slow student, but rest assure - I'm learning.

There are rocky moments, naturally. I fall to temptation. I compromise. I traded times of refreshing with Him for times of not-so-much-refreshing with my bed. I allowed guilt to overcome me. I believed in the devil's lies. An unstable little lush surrounded by spirits of old. A high stool with one leg short. These will be the barricades I need to clear. It'll be hard, but I like to remember that Jesus is right beside me.

All I want now, is to know that my family will be with me in Heaven.

School is the same.

Everything adds up to the nightmare before christmas.
Don't get me wrong - I actually like Tim Burton's work, but all I'm saying is:

- one, I lack sleep;
- two, I am in a bit of entanglement with feature and webd;
- three, I am absolutely unprepared for christmas musical.

Looking pallid.
Do pray for me (:

2005-12-12T12:54:00.000+08:00

Overwhelmed.

Five days after the official break of camp.
119 hours and 56 minutes, to be exact.

I take a long time to finally put these down in legible words. 'These' being almost everything that happened over the four days, three nights. It's got to be be cryptic or no. Well, I'm really not making much sense, but surely that's immaterial at this moment. All I know is that I'm overwhelmed - have been, and still very much am.

Youth camps have always been something special, something I cherish in my early teenage years. Perhaps the invisible fingers of Time turned a page, or two, in my life? The special feelings lessened. Only beautiful memories, mottled with age, remain. The Dark Ages entered. That is another story for another time. And by November '04, I was already far, far away from the Youth, and from God's embrace.

For fear of missing His embrace, His grace was, and is, sufficient. Yes, even when I told myself, "O Good Lord, I am never coming back to this Youth again." I laugh at myself now, and I tell God that He pulls some really brilliant stunts. I like to think He just chuckled at my ridiculous manners, stretched His little finger and prodded me along a little carousel to where I found my first love with Him: Youth.

Under ordinarily sane and logical circumstance, I will never be caught dead in another Youth camp after I foolishly uttered the abovementioned line. Okay, laugh all you want now because God, who planted the special seeds of yearning in me, never did allow these feelings to die down completely. I headed down for Changed '04 and never did regret it.

In Changed '04, Martin gave the word:

Do you pray a lot?
You like to pray, right?

God loves to hear you pray...

(Memory fails. I cannot remember what are the exact words and I don't dare to make them up for fear of Judgement Day. It's something about me being a prayer warrior and intercessor for this Youth)

... You are different from the rest. You know, some people will go out there on the front of the stage but there are also people who stay in the background to do support work? That's you. You will be the one supporting this group of people in prayer. Intercede for them... ...

It's almost like Moses wandering around in the desert for forty, long years and then one morning he wakes up to find himself already in the land with milk and honey.

It's like being thrown out to the sea and then finding that the waters are as shallow as the wading pool if only I will cease thrashing around and blindly walking towards the deep pool.

It's like giving me a tissue when I cry and saying "Don't worry. I'm not asking you to stop your tears. Cry all you want and just blow your nose on that tissue. I have more with me if it's not enough."

It's like romancing with God.
It's like... ... magic!

Almost one year passed. There are obviously times when I think I probably heard Martin wrongly and shouldn't be in Youth lah. The lies that float all around. Phooey. Working within a committee of ten is the epitome of 'iron sharpens iron' (we really do make sure we sharpen each other), and 'refiner's fire' (oh, the trying times). The truth cannot be plainer: all ten of us are so unique, we are undoubtedly complementary. The committee emerged one year-old and stronger than ever.

Splendid.

You see, each and every committee member entered A.S.K. '05 with our own ideals and visions and expectations. I had to hear from Him again. I had to. I stepped into Caleb Room on December 4, 2005, with one prayer, "God, there must be more than this. Speak to me. Overwhelm me." Ah, His unfailing love. There's no denying of His love.

Only He knows what makes me tick. Despite the onslaught of pressure from schoolwork, et cetera, He showed me love. It was a whole new dimension of worship in my eyes, shut tight. He spoke. Not once, but twice. He overwhelmed me.

In A.S.K. '05, Martin gave another word:

Have you ever written songs?
Okay, have you ever had little tunes or lyrics floating around in your mind?

It is time for you to start writing songs?? Write some songs and sing them. Lead worship with the songs that you write. Sing your songs in this Youth.

I sense a sweet spirit within you.
Yes, yes... a sweet, sweet spirit inside you.

Write songs.
Write songs for God, okay?
Will you write songs and sing them for God?

I sense you are a melancholic person.
Are you a person of melancholy?
You know what is a person of melancholy?
Melancholies are people who always reflect, in deep thought and tend to be sad? you know, depressed?

HAHAHAHAHAHA! Yes! Melancholies are the best songwriters!
HAHAHAHAHAHA! Reuben Morgan is a hardcore melancholic!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Being a person of melancholy is nothing wrong. It just means you reflect more and that is when you find the ability to write songs for God. There is no need to rush things? you don?t have to go back straight away and start writing songs. Just do it when the words and songs come to you. Okay?

Beautiful. But I was greedy, I wanted more. I told God, "Is that all? Is that all You want to tell me, God? How about something more? Make Martin turn back, please please please... ... Make him retreat a few steps and tell me something more, can? Can?"

"OVERWHELM MEEEEEEEEEEEE..................."

Wonderful God. Wonderful, O God. His unfailing love lah. God spoke again, since I was such an insistently annoying little pest, then. Pastor Mark gave the word this time round, but as this post is getting too long, too long, it will be anotehr story for another time.

All I can say is I'm overwhelmed - have been, and still very much am. This is the best birthday present in all my nineteen years. I still have tomorrow to round up my eighteenth year in this world on a very satisfied note - probably just to close my eyes tight.

To close my eyes and feel God near. Very near.

Cry
City Harvest Church

[verse]
Lost in You alone
is where I want to be
To hear Your voice
Softly in my ears
You whisper words to me
That I am Yours

[tag]
Can't liv a day without Your presence
Closer to You, I want to be

[chorus]
My soul cries out
for more of You, my Lord
My portion and hope

I close my eyes and feel You near
There's nobody else
that can take Your place in my heart

2005-12-01T01:06:00.000+08:00

It's really a D-isappointment.

And so it is.

Days are rushed and nights, fretful.

If destined as such my paths are laid, then deny no more the error of my way.

I have since swallowed the bitter pill of a wayward style.

The onus has been lost for good.

This funny, little thing called happiness is nothing.

I rather remain stoic for a lesser hassle.

But for now, I have to contend the night away with heart pangs, attributed to a mish-mash of guilt, sadness and indignance. I feel horrible, and I can't guess for how long will such a phase last. I take minimal comfort in knowing that perhaps, I would never recognise sweetness apart from this bitter pill... ... or these bitter pills.

2005-11-25T13:44:00.000+08:00

Family is most important in your life.

Having a high focus on family indicates that you are a loving and nurturing person. You want to have a nice big family of your own, and you are very close with your siblings and parents.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

2005-11-24T21:59:00.000+08:00

I am good in two things: enraging others and upsetting myself.

It's been a long, gloomy, wet week. I don't think anyone fancies arguments. I, for one, believe that senseless quarrels sap energy like vacuums, like the Black Hole, like hygroscopic salts - unnecessary yet inevitably concurring.

Exactly twenty-two words from my mouth and I manage to wreck the night before bedtime. A sisterhood of near nineteen years is never immune to pettiness and a certain extent of childish, stubborn nature, as proven about half an hour ago. Three hopeful lines into the chilly air ignites little response other than turn up the chill.

Silly, silly.

I know my remedies well. To cry into my instant noodles to Romeo+Juliet is amazingly therapeutic; to crank up the volume for Radiohead is a neat trick; to go to bed and pray that Jesus comes tomorrow morning takes the cake.

Dozing off involuntarily on:

1. buses to and from school;

2. during the classic supposed-horror movie, Psycho; and

3. in front of the computer

just says it all.

Fwah.
I feel like I'm spinning on a stationary chair.

This spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

So, excuse me while I indulge in remedy #3.

2005-11-22T21:38:00.000+08:00

I quite like CommIss lectures.
Who doesn't like MTVs and funny Budweisser commercials?

[Cue: "Wassuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup?"]

I was especially tickled by the Numa Numa Dance thingy today.
And that, being the sole saving grace for my school week, is extremely sad.

Well, to tell the truth, I detest school with almost indecent enthusiasm nowadays. It is greatly traumatising to be crushed by the 15-minutes rule this semester. 'Tis ridiculous! How can FMS be as unfeeling as to mark me absent so many times for coming into class past the 15-minute mark? I actually make an effort to turn up and you mark me absent? You might as well get ready to dismiss me on basis of perpetual absence due to frequent latecoming (probably only by 16 minutes or so each time).

I have already been marked absent for being more than 15 minutes late twice for feature lectures alone. "Incredibly well done!" I tell myself. It will be my eternal joke-of-a-lifetime to be the top student who gets dismissed for being too late, always. Yay.

It's rotten enough to have 151 break down in the middle of the road on my way to school. I felt real stupid when I overslept on the next bus which was 154. Then plenty of salt had to be rubbed in by marking me absent. It was a cold and stormy morning.

People say life is beautiful.

Let's make a school checklist for irrelevant reasons!

1. I&E in Action project
2. Radio Magazine (about Pontianaks)
3. CommIss essay (about online shopping)
4. CommIss group project
5. WebD creative journal
6. WebD portfolio site
7. Feature 1 Project

It is only freakin' Week 4, for goodness' sake.

Whatever it is, I need to thank God for His faithfulness, through it all. He sustained my grades, despite mounting distractions and obligations. I feel greatly blessed. I do hope I don't let Him down for this semester because I strive to be a better role-model in terms of studies.

To be top is nothing; to be on top of my own game is everything.

I want to come up with birthday resolutions because I can't wait for New Year's.

Coming soon.

Real soon.

2005-11-21T19:40:00.000+08:00

You know I hate to see (hear) you cry.

I feel like a lousy friend.
And I absolutely hate that.

If only I have all the time in the world.
If only I know what to say.
If only I can help.

I want to be a better friend in 2006.
I promise.

YouthCamp

ChristmasMusical

Junior Sunday School

SchoolWork

NeverEndingIllness

Youth camp is coming in 2 weeks' time.

I really want to have a good time.

40 more days to 2006!
It only gets better.

2005-11-19T23:56:00.000+08:00

His Love
Raymond Badham
Key: E

Intro:
F#m A Emaj9

Your light is over me
flooding over me
the night is lifted
Heaven over me
flooding over me
I can't contain it

My cup overflows
My cup overflows

Praise the Lord with all my heart
Praise Him for He has done great things
His banner over me is love, His love
His banner over me is love, His love

You brought the sunshine in
and turned the dark to day
You made the shadows flee away
You opened my eyes
to a new and living way
the dawning of a brand new day

I actually smile and start twirling around in circles, prancing like a fool and waving my hands madly to this song. Only at home, of course. Sometimes, I think my mum wonders why I get all excited and insane over blasting tunes over the comp speakers. Yeah, I act pretty weird at home. And that's without dotdot (my ultra lovely baby pillow of many faithful years) by my side, mind you.

So, I really do fancy happy songs. I went around with a cheshire grin the entire day after listening to it yesterday. It has been a long time since I felt this exhilarated. Almost like there was an unspeakable joy emanating deep within, like the world suddenly became beautiful and my life so wonderous.

I am content.

However, when it came to leading this song, I must concede defeat and express deep, deep, deep disappointment. It just felt... ... different. The vibes were wrong, the joy evaporated. Maybe it's my lethargy that robbed the song of its energy. I feel so dui. Never mind, I shall go listen to Hillsong's version then I'll be happy again.

I hope lah.

Yay. I got my maid dress today. Christmas musical should be a blast with all the wacky costumes.

Oh, come laugh at my Filipino-accented banter!

Oh, come watch me dance with the broom and feather duster!

Oh, come hear me sing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with gutso!

I never knew why I had such affinity with maid roles. Does my forehead sort of spell M-A-R-I-A or something? It's fun lah, but being a maid all the freakin' time gets boring after awhile. I prefer something less tiring and more serious. But I guess the role is stuck.

I can't wait for youth camp, then christmas, then new year's day. I want to usher in 2006 with a bang and start running for the real stuff in life. I want to start soon, then continue running all the way into heaven. You can hear that I am feeling really happy now, I guess.

I am on a roll now. Since I am so high now, I might as well say this: I really, truly like my friends for who they are and who they aren't. Movie marathon mates like Yvonne and Alisa, youth comm comrades like Kim and Em, and youth music ministry people like Foxy, who thinks dotdot is called jubjub - what an insult. I don't really know why or how, but these people really keep me sane and going. I feel happy, happy, happy, happy!

Perhaps it's a new phase. No more dark, depressed, angry teenage years. I greet the looming twenties with a sunshine smile and a song to sing. Songs of hope and joy and love. I am not afraid of the big two! Of course, I still get emotional and teary once in a while, but let's face it - who doesn't? It's healthy to be pensive occasionally, I say. But yes, I want to strive and see 2006 as a happy year down in memory!

This lovely song, His Love, shall be my 2006 theme song (: I just love songs about His banner over me being love. First my favourite signature sunday school song then this. Ha ha! Come, smile with me! I know, I just know that 2006 will be a special year for me. God will shower me with surprises throughout.

C'mon . Let's . Go!

2005-11-15T23:38:00.000+08:00

somebody help me o somebody. anybody. everybody.

amidst changing gears between being horribly ill, suffering in a seriously suffocating school, juggling camp and musical plus all the other nitty gritty areas of my tornado-ed life, i have to concede defeat. there's no way i can keep up with all the stuff going on around me, especially when it's the jolly season drawing near, when my nose keeps doing its lil marathon.

there are still so many things i want to do.
there is always too little time, even for the things i am expected to do.

c'mon my lovelies.
pray for me.

2005-11-12T01:26:00.000+08:00

The intolerable self.

I spy the noisy fan that spins and spins tirelessly.
My fingertips hesitates in its tap dance.

Ah, the times when words fail me.

2005-11-07T18:22:00.000+08:00

I have never felt so paiseh in my whole history of cabbing. Within a S$4.00 cab journey from Bedok to Siglap, I was reduced to tears that were worthy of the tragic-est Korean drama. Never have I met a cab uncle as adept at storytelling; he poured out his family tragedy with a twinge of tired resignation, half-smilingly bitter.

So I thought, 'It's one of those real life melodramas, deb. No need to get worked up over it.' I managed to maintain my composure whilst I was in the cab, but damn. I started choking on words after alighting and the tears just tumbled. So paiseh.

The tale started in the days when this 67-year old uncle was a young detective with the Singapore Police Force, with a loving wife and four kids, three sons and the youngest being a 6-month old baby daughter then. Apparently, he brought a nephew, whose age was pretty close to his own, out of Malaysia and into Singapore to earn a living but this ingrate got into a love affair with the cab uncle's wife, who was several years older than this detestable nephew.

So, the ingrate became very, very close to the family and then one beautiful morning, he was - ugh - caught red-handed by the cab uncle's third and youngest son. Thinking that their father would probably gun the unfaithful wife down if he knew, the cab uncle's sons decided to keep the affair a secret for at least twenty years. By the time they were ready to tell their father the truth, he was already sixty-five or thereabout.

Naturally, he confronted his wife after hearing about the affair. She pleaded guilty and collapsed in front of him, but this nasty little wanton witch followed up with a false report of attempted murder by her husband to the police. The incident was then, brought up to the Syariah Court and the poor can uncle had no choice but to agree to a divorce. And next thing he knew, the adultress married his nephew within the year they got divorced. I hope she lives in the permanent shadow of guilt, that liar. And that ingrate, too.

Oh, the deceitfulness of a woman's heart.

All these within a S$4.00 ride.
Imagine the succinct nature of the cab uncle's narration.
Imagine the depth of his quiet resentment.

Imagine how stupid I felt tearing in front of my lovely comrades.
They were so lovely - Kim, Em, Manda, Mich, Ben - they didn't laugh at me.
I kind of like having coffee with them.

So fun.

2005-11-04T10:46:00.000+08:00

So I'm awaiting the exclamation mark in my life, now that the ominous question mark has slowly trailed off behind my elongating silhouette as I stumble, battleworn, into a foreign land of blinding light.

I believe it will be an encounter I will not regret. Not that I ever looked upon the eroteme with disdain, of course - I am never such an ingrate. It was precisely that which made the woman, did it not? Then again, perhaps it was a rhetorical question mark that pointed her away from the life-sentence, which I may mean literally, or may not mean at all.

I do not profess to know the woman. We could be stuck in the interrobang for years and years to come. Or what if the life-sentence was a right mistake at the end of everything? All the guessing is so silly, I'd rather just sit and wait for the big bang!

I secretly wonder if there are people afraid of blogger[dot]com.

2005-10-26T00:38:00.000+08:00

I Mean It, Really.

The Plastic Frames

Stupid things we do together

Cheers to one and a half years worth of spasming.

My sole joy in school.

for all the times you laughed at my auntie ways
for all the times i pressurised you
for all the times we quarelled
and cried buckets
and made up

.Thank.you.

2005-10-25T23:31:00.000+08:00

F is for Flash.

I do not deny a certain lacking in patience.
'Tis a virtue! Or so they claim.
I doubt that these folks have a conscience -
they lie and smile all the same.

Working on 500 frames at 18f/s and only completing less than a quarter of the desired length is totally shattering. I get frustrated too easily for precision and perfection. Phooey.

I was under the impression that I have a good grasp on my actions, thoughts and emotions. Maybe it was more of an assumption than a fact. My imagination runs amok under physically tiring circumstances, as weird as it may sound. I don't even know how to explain this, really. It's just that when the exterior gets tired of moving, the internal speeds at an unbeknownst dimension altogether.

I like being physically tired, actually.

There comes a time when a blog, or even saving drafts only, cease to be cathartic. In the end, it boils down to mugs of tea, a mix of Cranberries, F.I.R. and Radiohead plus an uber cool mother who switches off the glaring lights and releases her randomly eccentric daughter into a pensive black, erasing the blank wall from sight.

2005-10-20T21:58:00.000+08:00

Gaaaah!

I'm going to be the butt of jokes in my family for months to come.
I hate Changi Airport.
I love my brother.

So, there has been an idiot who hacked into my neopets account and stole all my savings.

Eeeeeeeeee-diot.

And yes, I do play neopets still. It's pretty fun when one has nothing better to do in an air-conditioned office alone. Ho, ho, ho!

These days of mindless lolling draws to an end next week! Then comes the horrigible Wednesdays of 8am to 6pm, ten-hour days. It's going to be undoubtedly detrimental to my physical, emotional and mental well-being, I tell you. Gah.

Okay, my lovely mum's still snickering at me. I am going to drown my humiliation in DVDs. Ciao.

2005-10-14T17:52:00.000+08:00

Weekends.

A love-fear affair in my humble existence.

300 seconds in the face of fair cruelty.

I lead a dual life within and without this passionate scandal.

180 seconds in the throes of pending anticipation.

I feel slightly sick at the sudden rush of thoughts inside my mind.

60 seconds in the race against myself.

I hate people who share my sentiments because they remind me of myself.

2005-10-11T09:45:00.000+08:00

Memories are either like expired candies or glass shards.

Sometimes, you hit on a truly memorable one that lights up your life. One very moment, you swear by that memory and promise never to forget it. Yet you are fighting a losing battle with Time, always. With a swipe of her talons and a swish of her breath, all that you held onto dearly loses its sheen.

Like candies that expire; the sweetness forgotten.

Other times, you find yourself hounded by nightmares that wreck vegeance upon your life. They seize your heart and embed themselves within, burrowing deep. Nothing is left behind, except an intricate criss-cross of hollow tunnels and a bloody trail of eternal regret.

Like glass shards that refuse to be removed; a cruel skewering of the flesh.

2005-10-07T12:45:00.000+08:00

It's no use trying to dodge the depression missiles because I've just about hooked The Outsiders into an IV and attached it to my arm permanently. The main theme here is even more powerful than opium, I tell you.

The stupid sequel, which lacks my favourite character from the first series, is selling at an exhorbitant $39.90 at TS Video. Not that I am going to wither without the sequel, but I was sorely disappointed to know that the sequel does not continue the story from where it ended in the former serial. Instead, it will be zooming into the 4 year span when Blue* was serving his jail term.

*YAH LAH YAH LAH. It's a damn silly name for a dashing actor as such.

How ridiculous! Why would I still be interested to know what and who added to the mess of raging wars in that intermission when I already teared myself dry as I watched the main characters, likeable and dislikeable alike, die in agony? In other words, I just want to glue my eyes to the teevee with Blue oozing his brooding charisma all over my slimy screen.

Before you start accusing me of being a teeny-bopper or one of those silly girls who go gaga over the likes of F4 (!), I have to say this show reeks of raging regret. See, alliteration? I haven't lost sense after the show, which in fact showed me how regret is so much more frightening than say, anger and jealousy.

Well, I genuinely wish for The Outsiders III that will satisfy my withdrawal symptoms.

I started on another VCD set with my sister. It's Korean this time round, with the wide-eyed actress from Myth and red-lidded actor from Stairway to Heaven. It's quite an interesting plot - she's blind; he's illegitimate. I'm developing this huge taste for drama serials of late. Perhaps it's making up for the time I lost during school term and an almost effective distraction from anything remotely associated with school.

School.
Results.

It's not even a matter of distinctions anymore - more likely to be the weeks and months and years of oppression left in this wretched environment that matters.

I wish I could write more, but I'm stuck at work feeling extremely drowsy. I would love to take my storybook out and read but I have an entire mount of newspaper clippings to sort in infinity. It's lovely reading Empress Orchid, thanks to Weizhu's tasteful recommendation and generous loan. I recovered a long-lost love; the tumult of emotions almost like a heady rendezvous.

Huckleberry Finn, O Huckleberry Finn. Oh, I suppose I still have The Wind in the Willows somewhere at home! The thought excites me - that was my very first book in kindergarten. I don't think I knew how to read before six. I only knew the teevee, jotter books, drawing block, cheap crayons, China pencils and the lovely smells of my brother's water colours.

It'll be a poorly-wrought lie to say I don't miss those times.
I'm actually terribly afraid of loss.

But no, don't even think of sympathising with me. I don't need to rely on someone else to be strong. I pawn my heart and mind for strength. Maybe one day, I'll be capable of redeeming all these, memories and all.

2005-10-04T17:26:00.000+08:00

It's infuriating how blogger doesn't support chinese characters in its posts.
Especially when I'm on a Speak-and-Write-Good-Chinese roll now.

I have to resort to writing scraps in office (because they have the programme), email myself the Word document, and save it in my home PC.

Tedious.

My office has these really cool displays of a community project they had done up previously. The framed up works of postcards, like those ZO cards we always pocket in stacks, except these are all in Chinese. And they are all about love.

I'm going to copy down all these cool quotes from all the different postcards, to serve as inspiration in case of dry spells for my Mind. I call it incubation and illumination (!)

I single-handedly mastered Microsoft Access in a single day. Okay, it couldn't have been too difficult a programme to learn but allow me some credit, please. I need a little more space to breathe nowadays - I can always blame PMS.

I was swimming through the newspaper clippings I was supposed to sort when I found something really good. There was an ST article that reported scientific proof for a positive relationship between the amount of time spent sleeping in the day and depression. I don't know how accurate the research was, but I do feel a little less grumpy on the days I wake up earlier than noon. Then again, there are external factors that come into play, such as number of hours slept in total and programme of the day. If I can wake up before noon, I should have turned in pretty early the night before, which means I had adequate rest. Going to school definitely doesn't account for waking up early and lowering my grumpiness, so that's where I hold my reservations on these findings.

The only reason why I'm rambling is the countdown to my results with a growling stomach and heavy eyelids.

Fine, that's three reasons but really, I am getting fidgety. Fifteen more minutes to knocking off and a blissful bus ride. I look forward to [re]watching The Outsiders later, and I am still contemplating whether I should purchase the sequel. It's comparable to Meteor Garden, a rare find amongst Taiwanese drama serials. Not so much of the plot or cast, but more of the beautiful songs, emotions and underlying themes.

Now, if only I could expound further in Chinese... ...

2005-09-30T10:19:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-28T23:35:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-27T10:49:00.000+08:00

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!

2005-09-21T00:56:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-20T13:14:00.000+08:00

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 ___.

2005-09-18T00:21:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-16T13:00:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-15T15:10:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-12T03:35:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-08T10:50:00.000+08:00

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.

2005-09-07T00:17:00.000+08:00

" 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

2005-08-31T16:55:00.000+08:00

This is as good as it gets.

So things come to a surprising standstill now. The earth almost stopped spinning and debbeee nearly forgot to breathe.

This is as good as it gets.

They say spilt milk is spilt and therefore one shouldn't cry over it. But really, there isn't anything else to do but be extremely sour. So I cry in hope my tears can ferment and curdle the spilt milk and choke -

This is as good as it gets.

Am I a pushover or what? This is my fault, really. I thought I learnt to work with people - well, it seems that I didn't.

This is as good as it gets.

I almost swore, but I seriously shouldn't. I channeled my internal ire onto food. I gobbled them as though they owed me a lifetime of palatable pleasure. I still feel inadequately appeased.

This is as good as it gets.

So this is how the curtains fall and the lights dim at the interlude of my second year in fms. None of the brilliance and glamour as promised; I have at least emerged wiser and more prudent.

Let me be annoyingly crabby for now because this is
as good as
it gets.

2005-08-28T04:01:00.000+08:00

I don't allow excessive self-expression at any given point of time.
It instills in me too much paranoia and emptiness.

There are always moments frozen in dawning comprehension.
I have poured much into this space.

This is where I fell the deepest and found the most.

Maybe the fear lies in not wanting anyone to understand me.
Otherwise, I'd have no more excuses.

So the fact that I delude myself proves that I still don't understand my mind.

Silence steals the scene;
yet not silence reigns within?
A gush of cacao beans bursting in taste -
the bloodied heart felt and lied in haste.
"Fear not! I'm good! And clean!
Merely bitter berry balm down my front in waste!"

2005-08-25T23:47:00.000+08:00

Gibberish.

That, incidentally, is my native tongue acquired of late.
Not everyone can manage the such complicated languages with the sophistication that I muster.

It's a whole new record - less than eight healthy hours in a total of three days.
That's how I endured gruelling mind battles to master Gibberish.

I swear never to take media research and advertising again.
(oh wait, never say things like that before you jinx yourself)

I love to snack.
Oh, how very random these words are!
I really surprise myself sometimes.

So surprise me again, my good'ol self!

I'm actually extremely cranky now, and all I want is a little love.
Now that my bebes are scattered all over this sunny island, I lack this potent ingredient.

So instead of having me surprising myself, can someone surprise me?
(and I do mean surprise - not shock or scare)

As random as random.

"... pursue the flighty temptress, adventure..."

2005-08-22T01:14:00.000+08:00

Phooey.

The devil certainly knows how to be very irritating.
He really turns out to be the world's greatest prancing twit.

http://pushpushpush.blogspot.com is cranky now. I have absolutely no inclination nor energy to be terribly upset. I am merely staring sullenly at the monitor and wondering why am I not in bed.

In case any bc youths are reading this, PLEASE CONTINUE PRAYING. The calendar can still be accessed since it is not completely obstructed by the overlapping. We can still click and view the calendar and still keep on PUSHing.

CS (BC) registration is therefore relocated to http://areyougame.blogspot.com so it's no excuse for not signing up for this deadly exciting event. Keep checking back for details to this mystrious event I'm talking about or simply tag to enquire.

I won't bite.
I promise.

2005-08-11T00:12:00.000+08:00

It's a beautiful moment,
soaked through and through,
in the glorious sadness of a completed Red Curtain Trilogy.

The ceaseless wonders of a play script brought alive in a new dimension on the silver screen, or in my case - a glaring computer monitor. I still fancy the original play, yet Baz Luhrmann brings revived intrigue and symbolism to one, cliched twenty-two times over. So that adds onto Strictly Ballroom and Moulin Rouge to form the unforgivably outstanding trilogy. They make me weep four buckets' worth.

Now I'm jealous of three men: William Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde and Baz Luhrmann.

The latter has an untitled production to be released in 2006, and I am aching terribly for it. I simply live off DVDs and VCDs, with school as merely a sideline. Meanwhile, as I continue drowning myself in deepest sorrow for the star-crossed lovers, won't we share in the gall-like bitterness plus triple-coated dulce?

my favourite scene in
the entire film.

never wonder why aquariums
are considered romantic?

the best wedding band...
... EVER.

2005-08-08T01:54:00.000+08:00

Everybody needs space.
Some more than others.

I cannot pretend I am not unnerved,
I know perfectly well I should not impose my standards on others.
I know, however, I cannot compromise and let down.

Let's talk.
Am I to be my sole audience, then?

Let's see.
I forgot to ask if my willed blindness can be lifted.

Let's hear.
I am a little tired of your voice, in truth.

Let's go.
You and I and everyone else - away on our own separate thoughts.

That will be all.
As of today, I pack in my internal morosity.

2005-08-01T19:48:00.000+08:00

A trip to the Esplanade in the morning made quite a remarkable difference to my mood. Acute disappointment is not productive at all. Throwing my energy into every other aspect will perhaps, give me a little more endurance and renew my confidence.

I must admit I have little flair for photography - merely an unusual eye for appreciation at the most. Besides, it doesn't help that my camera isn't superb. I think I want to start a collection of toddler and infant shots, after realising they are my favourite subjects today.

KidA, as I affectionately labelled him as, is from Taiwan and appears to be exceptionally grumpy. But he's an interesting kid, with funny expressions and gestures. His mother was very easy about letting a stranger snap photo after photo of her son, even coaxing him to give me a 'V' for victory pose as I busily focused on his emanating grumpiness.

Looking foward to FOP with loads of expectance weighing down my heart.

There must be more than this.

2005-07-30T03:26:00.000+08:00

Strangely enough, I feel no sense of immense relief after completing the Field Assignment Two and advertising tutorial + campaign. I just simply came straight back home for a nice lunch of stewed beef and rice, then slept six hours in oblivion.

No SonicFest. No shopping. No social life.

I need some time alone; just relax and breathe. Blogging and reading other blogs are my main interests now. Got to read this really inspiring blog through Em's trusty recommendation. I am hopelessly smitten by her personality, attitude, lifestyle and most importantly - HER SONS!

Look at Callum and Sean and my heart turns gooey. Read about her Super-mum role and my heart flutters. Thinking about having a similar lifestyle that is as fulfilling makes my heart leap!

I need to get a boyfriend, get married and start "making beautiful babies", just like what Em was saying over MSN. I want to be a mother and I want two sons and a daughter. In that order. Starting from the time ordained by God, the author of my family saga, naturally.

It's official: Witness the return of the highly lethal Babies Obssessive Syndrome.

2005-07-29T04:19:00.000+08:00

WAU LAU EH WAU LAU EH WAU LAU EH

How do I justify my journalism pursuit?

There's no need to argue.

Sense?

Nothing makes sense after one stays up unwillingly till 4:20am.

Whatever for?

You are right - WHATEVER.

PC's just not my cup of tea LAH.

Speaking of which, I need tea to keep me awake as I embark on advertising now.

2005-07-26T23:08:00.000+08:00

All I Need Is You
Hillsongs United 2005

Left my fear by the side of the road
Hear You speak
Won't let go
Fall to my knees as I lift my hands to pray

Got every reason to be here again
Father's love that draws me in
And all my eyes wanna see is a glimpse of You

All I need is You...

All I need is You Lord
Is you Lord
All I need is You

One more day and it's not the same
Your spirit calls my heart to sing
Drawn to the voice of my Saviour once again

Where would my soul be without Your Son
Gave His life to save the earth
Rest in the thought that You're watching over me

All I need is You...

All I need is You Lord
Is You Lord
All I need is You

You hold the universe
You hold everyone on earth
You hold the universe
You hold
You hold

Never want to live a day without Him anymore.

Cast away my inhibitions;
weep in repentance;
sing with every ounce of soul I possess.

Fall down in awe;
lose myself in adoration;
breathe His very presence.

It will be.
The day I truly wither for Christ to blossom in me.
The hour I care enough to deny myself - pride, dignity and all.

I've taken the first step, but it's not enough.

2005-07-25T02:05:00.000+08:00

"Why Lord? WHY?"

"Stop, Debbie - STOP!"

"This is wrong, and you know it fully well."

"Oh Lord, if these are not from You, take them all away..."

"Get behind me, Satan!"

Top five thoughts that run through my mind on a daily basis.

enough is enough, is enough.

hand me the axe.

2005-07-23T09:09:00.000+08:00

Dawn breaks.
It is a new day.

It is a new WORLD.

I feel much happier on Saturdays than any other days, especially when I know it's gonna be a day of bonding with friends I cherish and am thankful for. I woke up before noon - that's a mean feat, mind you - and felt totally uplifted. Then good news came streaming in one by one and it is one of those golden moments when you really want to dance because you know He is real.

I am not going to wallow in the 'why's and turn in circles any longer lah.

Come, dismount that sick carousel and get going; a whole new world awaits just a few steps away. There are things that consumed a good five years, spent in futile folly and in wrong wait. Now is the time for revolution, liberation and radical change.

So I'm changing who I am
Cos' what I am's not good.

Varsities' the hot topic of late. People are already deciding their next education pitstop and here I am, still worrying over a simple Newswriting Field Assignment 1. I jumped on the bandwagon and highlighted the following schools (in no particular order, really):

1. Columbia College (Columbia even has a graduate school for journalism!)
2. University of North Carolina
3. University of Minnesota, College of Liberal Arts, SJMC
4. University of South Carolina
5. Bethany College

Choosy, choosy. All of them are freakin' expensive so unless I get a scholarship, I may not even consider US universities. So that effectively means Aussie ones. If I can only get a scholarship for local BA at NTU, then maybe I'll settle for the prestige of a scholarship then hope I can go onto graduate school with that NTU degree.

Columbia looks awfully good lah.

2005-07-22T14:26:00.000+08:00

Life's a fluke (or cheat, if you prefer)!

I, the damned spinster for life, was momentarily one half of THE winning couple at a Maybelline Couple Makeup Challenge at Cathay. I walked away with (supposedly) S$300 worth of Maybelline cosmetic products and felt guilt-stricken for having being a big, fat liar.

But the guilty phase didn't last for long - I felt cheated instead. When I peered into the goodie bag, I could not convince myself that those products totalled S$300. It doesn't even come close, man. I would probably price it at about S$200, which is a very generous estimation. Phooey!

I cheat you; you cheat me.

I shall not contend but be a good-natured participant. The co-organisers in charge of event publicity are fellow mass commers, after all. Must give them face and thank them for these free gifts. All I had to do was sit onstage, smile and be made up by my pseudo boyfriend. He's the one who didn't get such a sweet deal since he had no use for cosmetics, but he did have the measley Loreal hair products from the goodie bag. Anyway, he had fun pretending to look professional too.

What cheats we all are.
I shall take life with a pinch of salt and laugh at myself.
Even if I do fail at times, I will smile and wave and dismiss myself.

Oh dear.
I am not even spurred onto excellence this semester anymore.
I feel the interest wearing thin; the vexation and lethargy leaps.

And as such, I need Maybelline cosmetics to hide my worry-lines.
Grades are not my world - God is.
Always and forever.

2005-07-18T00:34:00.000+08:00

I cannot express my disappointment aptly.
It's a terrible feeling, yet I know I deserve this.

That was hoping for what has been denied from me, and rightly done so.

I am not this.
I am not that.

Don't squeeze me into that mould you hold;
I don't usually do exactly as I'm told.
Neither impeccable nor extraordinarily bold -
I also feel days empty and cold.

2005-07-16T00:26:00.000+08:00

Damn.

I want to watch Romeo + Juliet but my comp is throwing tantrums again.
I want to complete the Red Curtain Trilogy in one week lah.
I want to have it MY WAY.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
I sound like some sickening spoilt brat.
Seriously, I am in high spirits now.
Family excursions two days in a row makes me glow literally.

I'm on this roll on old movies.
I'm itching to catch Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961).
Then I want to watch The Virgin Suicides (1999) because of its theme - Playground Love by Air.
Oh goodness, you'll be haunted by the vibraphone version once you've heard it.

Then I felt like watching Shakespeare in Love, but... alas, comp askew.
And here goes.

"
I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love.
Love above all. No... not the artful postures of love, not playful and poetical games of love for the amusement of an evening, but love that... over-throws life.
Unbiddable,ungovernable - like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture.
Love - like there has never been in a play.
"

Does this not ring a bell?
The petulant insistence on Love that wows.
Nothing less than that worthy of the silver screen.

Omit the part about being ungovernable, Love as above is what I anticipate.
Something that wins life; something that surpasses poetry and adventure.
Like a riot in the heart; like nothing ever read or heard.

All because it endears to myself, emanating from my own soul.

Visiting my sister today, like any other trips, weakens my heart of lead.
If she's happy and she (does or doesn't, alike) knows it, she looks the part.
I can't wait for little nephews and nieces.
How beautiful.

Viola De Lesseps once said in the story, "I love you, Will, beyond poetry."

The stuff scripts are made of.

2005-07-12T22:59:00.000+08:00

Times when one is afflicted with immense self-indignance
and guilt.

For not choosing the road less travelled.
For skiving along the easier route.

Never undermine the stray thoughts, strolling casually behind those crinkling eyes.
Unbetrayable, unspeakable yet undeniable.
Closer to reality than that of your permissive disillusionment - this is the voice of Regret.

Look in retrospective, in all truth to the abyssal.
Witness the ceaseless wonderings whirr to life.
I ask and I ask and I ask.

I ask.

- I am only one -
The excuse is long dead, lying amongst the dust.

- I am only one but still I am one -
No amount of derisive sneers can refute the facts.

Good times; bad times.
After these, I know it's gonna be up, Up, UP!

It can only get better.
Oh yes it shall be.

Times when I suspect Love outside God and the family He gave
me is a joke, actually.

2005-07-07T18:33:00.000+08:00

I have never known relief before today.

If I said I had, I'd be lying.
Or perhaps, I was merely inadequately exposed to the real world.

So, welcome.
Welcome.
Welcome to the arena of anxiety-induced tummyaches, frantic phone calls and
rejection.

Ah, yes - rejection.
The word akin to hearing inch-long fingernails trailing along chalkboards in vindinctive energy.
Nobody enjoys rejection, for goodness' sake.
Yet how amazingly awakening these humble pies are, albeit a tad untasteful.

All in a nutshell, you ask?
This wretch of a downer called TV Production 2+1 Interview.
It worked out fine and dandy, sure.
But oh, how wonderfully concealed the terrible predicament we were in just 24 hours ago!

I am pretty sure I have exhausted all the teenage pregnancy hotlines and help houses.
If calling them could make me a teenage pregnant girl, I'd have probably be a mother of twelve now, complete with a pair of twins and a young jaundiced baby.

Hmmmmmmphhh.

Alright, alright.
I know they are busy and we are giving impossibly short notices.
I know it was a perfect scenario of 'hoping against hope'.

So I really thank Focus on the Family for their timely help. Thank God they were there to prevent my group from looking like complete idiots in the studios. I mean, just imagine us standing around with no guests - nada. How very assuring it looks, huh?

And so this is the relief I should have known.
Okay, just a check:

TVProd - check
MRM - *sniff*
Newswriting - *eyes widen*
Ad Analysis - *gulp*
MM - . . .

I say it best... ... when I say nothing at all.

2005-07-01T00:28:00.000+08:00

Can you hear the sound of faith?

This is the time to PUSH.

I am... ... are you?

2005-06-30T02:50:00.000+08:00

Any movie about ballroom dancing, especially Latin ballroom, is good.
I say so.

Miramax film again. Strictly Ballroom is not the most fantastic show, but it was hilarious with strangely bitter moments thrown in. Sort of like cotton candy with bits of black licorice in between. The fact that neither leads were extraordinarily good-looking made the whole film even more tasteful. It is little wonder its director is oh-so-famous Baz Luhrmann whose belt holds Romeo and Juliet and Moulin Rouge. It's the way the shots progressed with the plot, I tell you.

I like the library in my school merely for recreational purposes, sadly. Movie-watching takes on a new dimension when I am doing it in school and the movie are ulu ones.

Shiok.

2005-06-27T21:14:00.000+08:00

Drained, inside out.

How Green Vision could be so mentally and physically gruelling remains the eighth-or-thereabout wonder. Snip Bauhaus from the picture and I can safely declare that I've never run so fast around NP ever, prior to today. I never realised my stamina could push me thus far.

What an achievement.

Funny people are telling me funny things nowadays.
Yet in all contentment, I can now proudly say that I've found my love in Him.
I'm not looking around; just waiting for the person He intended for my life.

This person who will chase Him with me.

I can't wait to watch A Lot Like Love!
Hurry, Emily! Oh, and Kim too!

(:

2005-06-20T11:50:00.000+08:00

So little time.

Unaffected for quite a few months, then afflicted by the merciless T-factor.
It's not often that I forgo blogging - it hurts.
As with many other things.

Like saying sorry.

No matter how small my share of blame is, or rather as little as what I wish to think it as, there's no escaping from those awful words of apology. It's terribly painful to deny myself, my rights, my dignity. Look, I'm stuck and I need to get on with catching up. With Him, that is. Like what Alisa jf, my good'ol friend, always says (with almost indecent enthusiasm)," DIE! THE OLD YOU NEED TO DIE WITHIN FOR CHRIST TO FULLY LIVE IN YOU!" Or something to that extent, at the very least.

So here I am, aching in the death of my worthless pride and invalid excuses. Damn, I can't trudge along with my own make-belief anymore, can I? I need more space to open my eyes wide and inhale deeply the very essence. I need less of me and more of Him. More of His glory. More and more and more and more and more.

It's never enough.

2005-06-09T19:32:00.000+08:00

Did I mention magic is transcient?
Damn, it is so.

The very same day I was transitorily teleported to cloud nine, I got hurled down to rock-bottom reality when I lalala-ed away from the nice print-for-free lab at 53-03-06 without my thumbdrive.

My black and silver, swivelling Imation thumbdrive with all the precious and unretrievable information inside, lost.

We (comprising friends who bore testimony for my presence in 56-03-06, sympathetic MeL guys and my lamenting self) are very, very certain that it was an FMS student who conveniently took the forlorn-looking thumbdrive from the workstation I was seated at.

Higher probability goes to the FMS guy who was sitting in front of me. I was at the back row and he, the second.

Anybody reading this should really help me ask around. I am all of a dither now, seriously. There are my photos and leadership essays and two unrecoverable powerpoint slides, which I truly have to get back.

Gossip, pry, snoop, laugh at my misfortune, whatever - just get the word around that a poor girl has lost her Imation thumbdrive at 53-03-06 on Monday and she needs it back.

Go.

2005-06-06T11:38:00.000+08:00

It's magic... ... it really is.

How else can you explain how I can finish my management essay about Gandhi before noon today?

Even classmates who pointed me to 53-03-06 when I foolishly brought an uncharged laptop?

Generous friends who lend me management books for desperate referencing?

Or how about those magical sheets of paper that mysteriously appeared beside the printer?

Exactly six sheets I found, and I used all of them up for my essay.

The magic of this entity called God.

Gaaah! I always screw things up and expect Him to clear my mess for me.
Same thing on Saturday, Sunday and then again, today.
I need to learn to be less messier.
More of a good girl.
Bah.

They are all away at camp in Malacca and I am slogging here in Singapore.

Lovely.

2005-06-03T14:56:00.000+08:00

It has been clinically proven that blogging regularity increases with my return to school. Underlying reason is the positive relationship between hours spent in school and throngs of complaints. One has much more to rant about when school is a pesky nuisance.

Oooh! I am such an MRM freak now.

(MRM stands for Media Research Methods,
possibly the most mundane module that has ever existed.)

I hate guitar chords with 9 and sus4 and I hate green tea.

2005-05-30T20:19:00.000+08:00

School has started.
A thousand barrels of dread drenched in indignance.
Life goes on.

New classes, new faces and perhaps a new me.
I push as far as I can go just so I won't pause to think.
My sole existence hinges on awaiting the time when grace amazing takes me home.
And till then, I'll trust in Him.

I sing it; I hope for it.

Panadol is my new good friend.
The best company an exploding head can have, really.

I constantly fight a battle against aircon and my thoughts.
I need more panadol and sleep.

2005-05-23T15:48:00.000+08:00

It's a lazy Vesak Day and I'm a geek glued to the computer, as always.
Thank goodness for a nice day off before I drag myself back to school tomorrow at eight.

So what do I do, you ask?
The things a geek does, my dahling.
After the Crimson Room, I expected the sequel to that would be even better, or at least on par.

Phooey.

People, do not waste your time on the Viridian Room.
It was comparable to the joke of a toy called Barbie Doll.
Equally evil and silly.

I do all these to distract myself from the torment of my new fringe.
Not really torment lah, but just really different. Really.
Okay, they say that being impulsive brings much regret.
I like to learn the practical way, you know - instead of just theory ):

So, I look like Edna Mode.
Call me Auntie Amy, your next-door ah soh who irons clothes for a living.

I caught Once Upon A Time - A Tribute to Hans Christian Anderson on Arts Central last week and wow! That was all I could express, spellbound by the songs and dances they put up in memory of one of the most revered fairytale authors.

How I loved his The Snow Queen!
I used to hide in bed and pretend I was in the Snow Queen's palace and everything was as cold as cold. The Snow Queen they had at the tribute wore a really pretty white dress with a long, long train that fluffed out and down as she rose up in the air (on wires, of course).

I was quite sad.
He led such a sad life.
But he didn't allow any of his problems to stop his imagination or his will to live and tell.
I want to be just like him - living life as it truly is.

I am not at all confident in myself and the things I need to do, but I'll hold onto the memory of such great people. There's always Moses, someone who stuttered his way to the Pharoah's throne, for me to be encouraged by.

God didn't make a mistake in choosing Moses.
God didn't make a mistake in me, either.
I will live and tell.

I want to do so much more everyday.
Not just sit around and trudge along!
I want to find myself and then somemore.

The games have already begun.

2005-05-13T22:16:00.000+08:00

Everything is double-coated with schmaltz today.
Schmaltzy-licious.

Clouds are drifting away; nothing stays the same ever.
Pilferers will be pelted with matzo dumplings.

If Dadaism be my pursuit, let the games begin!

2005-05-09T21:51:00.000+08:00

I am appalled at how blur I was back in Dunman High. I knew less than half the people in school and currently remember only about a fifth of that. Oh, actually I am not appalled - that's Ruoya and Weizhu - but merely intrigued. I lived in a shadow of incessant ponning (which Ruoya used to show displeasure at) and formidable mathematics skills (such that they ceased to exist).

All I recollect from those mundane days were rare savoury bits of the frequent visits to the school library (our old hunt), weekly laksa treats on Thursdays with Ruoya, silly India-Pakistan-plus-foreign-intervention games that occured with alarming regularity, using our calculators to reiterate our common sentiment of madam-sim-the-ntuc-cashier, and dashing for the 1415hrs bus 30 every single day with Weizhu.

I don't think we will ever forget our prom together. We have taken our er, fellowship (Weizhu will be pleased to witness my choice of words here since she is deluded into thinking she's an elf) up a notch by immersing in the amazing world of monopoly.

Basically, our friendship revolves around Monopoly, LOTR, junk food, exercise, communism and our past/present/future.

Superficial?
Only if you think so.

So Ruoya and I were NUS Medicine professors for the day. Very flattering, indeed. If you could envision Gandalf and Aragorn grilling Frodo on why he wants to be a doctor, I'm certain it's pretty much a summary of our time together. Witnessing how Weizhu appeared "positively pissed" was added to our top ten list of the greatest jokes, which include the "WA SI ZENG HU" Monopoly phrase and how PANG makes a fantastic name.

By the way, "WA SI ZENG HU" means "I AM GOVERNMENT" and is exclusively uttered by yours truly because I really am supreme in Monopoly.

We are fellowshipping somemore tomorrow.
Rendezvous at 85 with bak chor mee.

2005-05-07T21:43:00.000+08:00

http://flash.qbol.net/pl;p/youxi/images/04042203.swf

There are 13 items hidden in this room in order to let you get out of this room.
If you found:

0-6 items - your IQ is very low, total idiot
6-8 items - low IQ, u r an idiot
9-10 items - you are normal
11-12 items - your IQ is high, above the average
13 items and you get out of the room - less than 4000 people in the world can do it.

I received this in my email from my sis.
It was pure, great fun immersing myself in a flurry of clicks and great deal of frowning.
Well, I got out of the room but only because I had some extra help from the clue's url.
It got frustrating at the end when I was repeating the cassette over ten times but I'm glad I finished the game.

An enigmatic stream of satisfaction derived.
Then again, another surprise laid ambush in my inbox.
So, I drew a pig under an invitation.
Oh, what a splendid time I had!

You drew the pig:

Toward the bottom, you are pessimistic, and have a tendency to behave negatively.

Facing front, you are direct, enjoy playing devil's advocate and neither fear nor avoid discussions.

With few details, you are emotional and naive, they care little for details and are a risk-taker.

With 4 legs showing, they are secure, stubborn, and stick to their ideals.

The size of the ears indicates how good a listener you are.
The bigger the better. You drew small ears, you are an OK listener.

The length of the tail indicates the quality of your sex life.
And again more is better! You drew large tail, WOW!

So this was how I amuse myself all the freakin' time.
Well, I didn't feel like emailing the test to everyone so here's the link

http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/draw.asp?f=29363

I got caught up with lamenting these days.
I really got Green Vision.
I was quite unsettled over the news (Megan dahling had to enrol for me).
Well, she had to do Green Vision, too... ... but we're in different terms.

Aren't we all convinced of the school's conspiracy?

I dislike change. I dread it.
Don't we all?

I am determined not to take myself seriously.

2005-05-03T13:28:00.000+08:00

This is utterly frustrating.
The hair-tearing sort.

Look here, I missed the enrolment appointment.

Missed.

I'm going to be ensnared by Green Vision.
And that's that.

Perhaps I can get AD for Green Vision lah.
Perhaps it's God's divine intervention that I should wake up past noon.

Or was it just the post retreat's nua-ing syndrome in full swing?

IT'S GREEN VISION!
Howdy howdy howdy howdy howdy howdy how?

I'm in the right state of delirium.
Since some good time ago, and... ...

It was all de javu.
Then as all stuff that dreams are made off, everything went -poof-!
Energy seeps out like lifeblood from a slit wrist.
Lethargy hammered in one fatal blow; smiles nudged off in discretion.

Stop.
Stifle the jumping urges.
Spontaneity?
Rudeness is learned.
Listen! Listen!
We don't create noise whilst hearing.
We don't create noise whilst hearing.

Quiet.
Crank up the brainwagon.
Quick.
Solve the riddle and ask no questions.
I am not here.
I am not here.

It's time to rest our cases; it's time to rest our minds.

Blank surges of intensity inevitably exhausts.
Let's smile and be merry.
Sincerely.

2005-05-01T01:13:00.000+08:00

Oh, did I mention how much I adore Le Violon Rouge?
The Red Violin.

Beautiful settings, enthralling music, talented cast and haunting plot.
I can never imagine the work put in for it to happen.
It's just insanely awesome.

I want to whine a bit now.

I had no dinner. Mum's away at Genting. I was just notified of certain obligations for tomorrow.
I am preparing tomorrow's sharing and discussion questions now.
Did I say I was hungry?
I am hungry.

I can whip up a mean pot of ... ... instant noodles.

It's officially Labour Day.
And I'm still labouring.

This reminds me of Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost.
Don't ask me why; it just struck.
I love the structure and ending of the play.
So different from other Shakespearean works.
Someone should just modernise it and put it up as an idol drama.

Yah lah, I'm still on the roll about dramas.
And I'm still upset over my new class.
Like Noor said, it's a major conspiracy on the school's part.

Nurul, Noor, Hana and I are all separated. All.
It's a tragedy.

What adds to this tragic upstage?
I drank so much tea that I can't sleep now.

Yay.

2005-04-30T16:47:00.000+08:00

It's been awhile.

Being ill frees me from the usual day-to-day programmes and confines me to bed and books.
I've been reading Sophie's World again, and digesting it for real this time.
It gave my mind quite an indigestion, I must say.

A make-believe world - a vortex - yes, it had me spellbound.
It became a tri-reality with Sophie's, Hilde's and mine.
And that's excluding the Magician's world which I cannot fathom.

I took a break from books with tiny print and returned to my teevee addiction.
Mediacorp snowballed their tendency for lovey-dovey.
And I like that!

Let's see, out of so many foreign love dramas I've watched, these are my favourites:

1. Love Revolution
2. Golden Bowl
3. Long Vacation
4. Power Office Ladies
5. Antique
6. Food Fight
7. Success Story of a Bright Girl
8. My Love Patji
9. Autumn Fairytale

and of course

10. All About Eve (the cream of the crop)

Top ten.
Beautiful shows, these are.
Notice they are all Japanese and Korean dramas.
Taiwanese shows are rarely nice, except for Meteor Garden which is theoretically a Japanese script.

I needed teevee therapy to soothe my fretting nerves.
The prospects of days without Nurul, Noor, Lynn or Megan was horrifying.
It is still very much a dread.

Now I need to return to more drama serials.
I ommitted Heaven's Coin ~ Die Sterntaler because this show is incomparable.

Awesome.

And I need to get back to yucky medicine and how one can make the most out of singleness.

2005-04-23T11:59:00.000+08:00

This is what I do when I am mindless holidays - bloghop and do the quizzes I see posted. This one was from Emily's. Pretty fun, I must say.

Your dating personality profile:

Traditional - Modern culture does not move you. You hold traditional values dear to your heart.

Religious - Faith matters to you. It is the foundation that you build your life upon. You trust that God has a plan for you.

Intellectual - You consider your mind amongst your assets. Learning is not a chore but a constant search after wisdom and knowledge. You value education and rationality.

Your date match
profile:

Traditional - You aren't looking for someone who is sexually repressed. You want someone who is adventurous under the covers.

Shy - You are put off by people who are open books. You are drawn to someone who is a bit more mysterious. You want to draw him out of his shell and get to know what he is all about.

Religious - You seek someone who is grounded in faith and who possesses religious values. You believe that a religious person can enhance your life.

Your Top Ten Traits

1. Traditional
2. Religious
3. Intellectual
4. Liberal
5. Romantic
6. Big-Hearted
7. Athletic
8. Funny
9. Stylish
10. Wealthy/Ambitious

Your Top Ten Match Traits

1. Traditional
2. Shy
3. Religious
4. Conservative
5. Intellectual
6. Romantic
7. Funny
8. Athletic
9. Wealthy/Ambitious
10. Big-Hearted

Take the Online Dating Personality Quiz at Dating Diversions

2005-04-21T09:26:00.000+08:00

Extraordinary effect that pending secret had on me.
Impeccable impact its revealing held, dangling over me.

I cannot decide whether to crumble in relief or in tears. The scramble of intangible letters sprawled across the vertical pithole that threatens to suck me into a vertigo of no end. Staring at the letters for so long, I cannot deny the progress since prior. The only bitterness drew from a pent-up reservoir of unwarranted expectations and desires, breaking the dam and rushing past the barrage to drown.

To drown.

Thankfully, awry circumstance pass and such emotions are fleeting.
Dawning upon me, the beauty of it all.

The faithfulness and grace of God.

I placed too much emphasis on the wrong things.
The focus due Him was stolen away.
I hoped for the unduly; it was hope misplaced.
Yet He allowed U-turns in all mercy and tender, loving care.

Every new day
Your glory unfolds
Filling my eyes
With Your treasures untold

And so it is.

I can still proudly say I got arguably good results.
3.6042 for GPA.
But it's all about Jesus.

2005-04-14T17:05:00.000+08:00

If I gave you everything you asked for,
where would you put it?

God .

The overwhelming human interest in more of God's blessing is innate.
It didn't take Einstein to figure out why we, humans, are such epitomes of selfish desires.

We are never contented for long; that is if we ever were at all.
Satisfaction is always thwarted by our vivacious imagination; the bubbling spring of what ifs.

"What if... God gave me a billion bucks?"
(i can use the money for my church!)

"What if... I am the world's most sucessful politician?"
(i can lead whole nations to Christ and advocate world peace!)

"What if... my vocals were to be the most magnificent ever heard?"
(i can use beautiful songs to spread His gospel!)

The kind of creativity the Mind is capable of.
It all sounds so absurd, these out-of-the-world what ifs.
But we always manage to seemingly justify our own selfish desires.

See, like a very young girl who is a right brat - always whining for more toys.

"Oh, I want that barbie doll!"

She gets it, for her father doted on her.
She plays with the doll for awhile and realised she wanted more than this.
Getting dissatisfied, she yells,
"I don't care,
I want a television set for myself. NOW!"

Her father prompts her,
"Why do you need a television set?
You are only five years old."

She wails,
"I want one, I want one! So that I can tell my
friends how much you love me, Papa!"

He knew he did love her so; he doesn't want to let her down - she got her television set.
She watched the television all day long, an addiction incurable.
She spent less time with her father, but he still loved her.
One day, she saw an advertisement for a pretty convertible.
Her heart ached with longing and she decided she had to have it.

"Oh Papa, Papa! I want a car - a sports car!"

Her father was mildly surprised.
"Why do you need a car? You are only five, ages away from the time to drive!"

She was adamant about her desire, so she exclaimed,
"So I will have more time to familiarise myself with the car and then I can finally drive you around when I am eighteen, Papa! Then I will be so happy and all my friends will know you as the Ideal Father!"

Her father knew this was too much, but accedes to her request out of sheer love.
She got the car, forgot that she promised her father she will only drive at eighteen and charged onto the road.

What happens when you put a five year old with legs too short for the brakes in a car?

We know the verse by heart - "Ask and you shall receive..."
This is when we get carried away, thinking that God is no more than a genie in a bottle; someone who grants our utmost desires.

But we forget to acknowledge that faith has a very big role in prayers.
And this faith is the by-product of an intimate relationship with God.

This is when we lose focus of Him; when we think too much about ourselves and demand that He, the centre of the universe, give us His attention; when discontentment allies with pride and obscures our view of His love.

If God gave us everything we wanted, do we have the capacity to keep them?
God's infinity cannot be contained or measured in our finite world.
Do we have place in our lives to receive and use these blessings wisely?
If God gave us everything we wanted, do we know where to put them?
Temptation will hound us day and night and lead your soul astray.
Can we guarantee we know where to invest these extra talents in?
Stick by our promiseto Him?

He can give us anything, everything!
He is willing to, but are we able to handle so much?
Do we truly think we need that much to survive?
Can we keep our focus when there's a whole load of cash waiting for you?
Will temptation not threaten to swallow you up in one yummy gulp?

Thank goodness, our Heavenly Father is much wiser than the young girl's Papa.
God knows us best.
How much we need to be healthy; how much will result in an overdose.

Don't fret.
Learn to be content, not to contend.

I am learning, too.
We all learn on the job, and our jobs are to be good children of The Almighty.

2005-04-09T13:33:00.000+08:00

Back from another awakening - Triumvirate Outing (capitalised and bolden to signify its importance).
I have been very vague in my blog of late, or so they claim.
Confusion? Random ramblings? Their guesswork needs some improvement.

The two masalahs lah.

Well, what can I say in self defence?

I learnt fear.
I have allowed fear to reign this thought-haven and coat my words with wool.
That's why things always seem so woolly.

Ha, ha!
Alright, alright - enough of word puns.

See?
I learnt to let go and be more light-hearted here.
For the sake of my triumvirs, I can forgo everything else and dive into the river of madness with them.
For the sake of Lembek Jean and Mickey Esther, I'll throw all caution to the wind.

Prepare yourself for a fresh dose of Debbiean sarcasm,
dark humour and cutting comments.

So as usual, I was bullied by Lembek Jean into emotional blackmail (and physical) as she manipulated me by having me travel from Terminal 1 to 2 and back to 1 again (and somemore after that). It's pretty sad how I allow her to get such a hold on me. But then again, she's lembek so I ought to show her more sympathy.

Good'ol Mickey Esther stayed true to her word and gave us a treat. Not at Grand Hyatt like what Jean wanted, though. Back to our old haunt, Changi Airport. Alas, we didn't get to try The Soup Restaurant. I really like their Samsui Chicken, you see.

Another time, another time.
There's still the movie marathon!

Oh, and just bear in mind, my dear triumvirs, that I dislike answering phone calls or replying smses. To everyone else, as well.

I think I like teaching alot.
Way too much, in fact.
Perhaps even more than writing for journalism.

Now, now.
That will be some kind of bad news for me.

Okay, to rewind things a l'il, I have been doing relief teaching in Anglican High School. Enjoying myself thoroughly, doing English Literature with the Sec Ones. It helped that they were doing poetry now. And I am not too bad at Practical Criticism myself, after all.

Maybe I will fulfill my childhood dreams of being a teacher.
Yes, yes - I did want to be a teacher badly many years ago, and the feeling's returning now.
but things will have to wait for another 2 years and any feelings will probably be worn out by then.

We shall see.

I don't know what it means to be frank any longer.
The distinction between being brutally blunt and truly honest is no more.
They say great people are often misunderstood.
In that case, I doubt I want to be great in any way after all.

I know what they mean when they say I evolved, devolved or mutated.
In Sixpence None The Richer's words,

"So I'm changing who I am
'cause what I am's not good.
And I know you love me now
but I don't see why you should."

- I've Been Waiting, Sixpence

I lost quite a bit of myself over the past year.

Not that I've been good to begin with, but somehow I even lost that little I had.

I feel thoroughly rotten because I know despite my being as such, there are people who still love me. There's my family, my true friends and best of all, God. I always say expectations kill the soul and these people love me without imposing expectations on me. Sometimes, it seems that they want me to do certain things and do it their way, but I realised there is only a thin line between expectation and hope. And the latter is always what saves the soul.

2005-04-04T20:41:00.000+08:00

Kiss the frog, kiss the prince.
The prince may turn out to a frog again, who knows?

I'm really addicted to Pucca and her various antics.
How bold can that girl be!

In a roundabout way, I recognise my own timidity.
Why, I don't even dare to watch The Way Home !

I fear for my conscience.
I fear the overwhelming revelations that may weigh down upon my bloody conscience.

It was all cold and rainy today.
Not that I had any cause to complain, seeing that I adore such weathers.
I made my way home from the library, under an umbrella and thoroughly enjoying the dreary skies.
Then I had great books for company in the evening.

O how lovely.

The flowers on the dining table are withering.
In a very graceful manner, though.
So beautiful yet so melancholic.

I have a new notebook!
A big, scented, beautiful notebook!

I get awfully excited when I have new notebooks.
Especially when it's a gift.
Even more so when it's a gift from my brother. "

I must have had at least thirty notebooks thus far in my life now.
They are seldom filled up to the last page, because I don't bear to finish them up.
It's a queer notion, yes.

My most treasured notebooks of them all will be those I kept during secondary school years.
Not for academic purposes, mind you.
They were my faithful company for services and oikos.

I spent many an awesome service scribbling the newly gained insights with much fervour.
Then the Fridays came and the notebooks followed me to 10 Aida Street.
Those were the times.

The times when I devoured each opportunity to learn with relish.
The times when I pored over the notes again and again and again.
The times when I spent sleepless nights wondering about Heaven.
The times when I prayed that God will use me someday.

And when I flip through these notebooks once more,
I realised how faithful God has been.
These are beautiful memories strewn atop the ragged pages.
Even more beautiful than that imprinted in my meagre mind.

I have recently taken to scrawling stray thoughts for further meditation.
'Tis a brilliant way to not let Him pass me by.

Won't you allow some paper and ink to nab the fleeting moments of His magic in your life?

I look back in the past with two whole sacks full of regrets.
Not even just the distant past, three hours back is bad enough.

I can be such a wretch.
I am continually amazed by why He was willing to die for me.

It didn't come cheap, but I got it for free.

Regrets constitute such a heavy price tag for mistakes.
I never want to do it again, but words are really cheap.

I don't mean to be as anti-social as I seem to be.
It's just as how Desperate Housewives aptly puts it:

Trust, once earned, puts one at ease.
And trust, once betrayed, is almost impossible to salvage.

Sometimes, we withhold or doubt trust so as not to get burnt.

Is that right?
What if I had been wrong?

I get paranoid over human relations.
I get even more so when it's about true friends.
And the worst is yet to come for I don't even want to think about my ribcage.

I started by writing about frogs.
I end by writing about frogs.

I can hardly trust my so-called instincts.
Especially on issues like differentiating between frogs and princes.
Well, you never know which is which.
After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
That slimy frog could be a prince - just the right one at the wrong time.

And the right one at the wrong time is still wrong.

(Sometimes, I get freaked out when I considered the prospects of God pulling off a real big one in my life, whispering in my ear that a supposedly slimy frog is in fact, my prince and my rightful ribcage.

He always gets the last laugh, you know.)

2005-03-29T01:23:00.000+08:00

In view of the Easter that just passed without much mention on my side, here is my brooding sentiment (:

Why?
- Nicole Nordeman

We rode into town the other day,
just me and my Daddy.
He said I'd finally reached that age,
and I could ride next to him on a horse
that of course was not quite as wide.

We heard a crowd of people shouting
and so we stopped to find out why.
There was that man that my dad said he loved,
but today there was fear in his eyes.

So I said
"Daddy, why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why is he dressed in that bright purple robe?
I bet that crown hurts him more than he shows.
Daddy, please, can't you do something?
He looks as if he's going to cry.
You said he was stronger than all of those guys.
Daddy please tell me why -
why does everyone want him to die?"

Later that day the sky grew cloudy
and daddy said I should go inside.
Somehow he knew things would get stormy,
boy was he right but I could not keep from wondering
if there was something that he had to hide.

So after he left I had to find out,
I was not afraid of getting lost.
So I followed the crowds
to a hill where I knew men had been killed.
And I heard a voice come from a cross

And it said
"Father why are they screaming?
Why are the faces of some of them beaming?
Why are they casting their lots for my clothes?
This crown of thorns hurts me more than it shows.
Father please can't you do something?
I know that you must hear my cry.
I thought I could handle a cross of this size.
Father remind me why -
why does everyone want me to die?
When will I understand why?"

My precious Son, I hear them screaming.
I'm watching the face of the enemy beaming
but soon I will clothe you in robes of my own.
Jesus, this hurts me much more than you know.
But this dark hour I must do nothing.
I've heard your unbearable cry.
The power in your blood destroys all the lies,
soon you'll see past their unmerciful eyes.
Look there below, see the child
trembling by her father's side.
Now I can tell you why,
she is why you must die.

Add me in msn and I'll gladly share the song.
Just promise you'll pass it on, too.

2005-03-28T23:59:00.000+08:00

Nua-ing days are very pleasurable, I must say.
The insane joy of spending hours in front of the comp leisurely.
Not rushing assignments now, mind you.

Monday nights become deliciously serene.
There's a pressing need to let the emotions surge.
Perhaps that's why I have an permanent twitch to my mouth.

You know, emotions are never negative.
It is only when an unscrupulous mind imposes them on the unsuspecting conscience, that emotions become a highly sought after psycho-weapon of the most conniving.
Or when they become innocent victims of temperamental abuse.

See?
Nua-ing allows me free reign in waxing dada-philosophical.
I've got the time and the mood.

I miss those old Sunday School songs I used to repeat in my head, again and again.

"Turn your eyes upon Jesus
look full in his wonderful face
and the things of the earth will grow strangely dim
in the light of His glory and grace"

"When I look into Your holiness
When I gaze into Your loveliness
When all things that surround me become shadow
in the light of You"

Delightfully beautiful lyrics that tell us how unrealistic it is to keep on worrying about the things around us - school, work, relationships, people, circumstances. Lyrics that give us an inkling of how awesome it is to just drop our anxieties and be drawn curiously to his glory. I like the idea so much, but this is when the emotions surge skywards and words are jumbled in ecstacy within my meagre mind.

2005-03-26T01:27:00.000+08:00

It's unbelievable how a tee-shirt endorsement can escalate into a major
blogger movement in a matter of days.

Okay, for people who don't really concern themselves with other bloggers, there's this I'm-too-sexy-for-my-blog viral-rave on the loose in our blogging community. Swing by flickr and you'll be surprised how many bloggers responded to the call and posted pictures of themselves in the supposedly sexy pose.

Very interesting, indeed.

[Well, I may be a camera-whore, but I look ugly sticking out my tongue.
Alright - I look ugly, with or without my tongue hanging out - can?]

I was stumped by the sudden rush of concerned enquiries when my MSN display nick read

If you believe in love at first sight, you never stop looking.

Okay, it's just a silly display nick, which I like to change every three minutes.
It's not controversial, it's just an opinion worth prolly one and a half cents.

And if you thought by saying this, I am all for 'love at first sight', I pray you get out of my circle of acquaintance.
Now.

Intolerable! Intolerable!

I have little patience with presumptuous people. Presumptuous meaning they are wilful, attention-seeking and/or plain annoying, a fatal combination of which will make these people presume they are unique, cute or even lovable. Unfortunately, I seem to have an affinity with them. In fact, I am surrounded - no, beseiged - by them.

Now, do I learn to be more patient or start being an obnoxious anti-socialite?
I prefer the latter, naturally.

I do realise it is wrong, thank you for reminding me.
My incredulous looks and biting sarcasm (which has little effect outside of school) need to cease.
Seeing blank faces is not much of a gratifying response anyway.

And guess what?
The mouldy days are about to start again.

Goody!

2005-03-24T09:01:00.001+08:00

And as an afterthought, I reckon lying to be a great sin.
No - not that I do not lie, since I am a bloody liar, myself.
The finer point I want to make here is never to lie, thinking that you can ask for God's forgiveness later, my dahlings.

It pains me to see someone lie so blatantly.
And a great conspiracy!
What insult to injury.

I am neither blind, deaf nor senseless in any other manner.
I may work out traces faster than you think I can.
And it's you - yes, you know yourself, I need not harp on any longer.

Quick, save each other's dignity and integrity before it's too late!

Mark my words.

2005-03-24T08:13:00.000+08:00

Well, yes to all who have been asking me if I've read the NPal mail regarding the journalistic trip to Big Apple.

I happened to also notice the part that sums up the trip's expenditure to say, 2.5k? (which you people nastily glossed over in your excitement!)

So, no to all who are trying to wrangle an answer out of me.

My body is really not in the best state.
And school is just another excuse, really.

I am contemplating a healthier lifestyle just to restart my immune system.

(All credit due to the abhoringly addictive channel 8 show that forewarns of an unhealthy lifestyle comprising overeating and lack of exercise every 10 seconds.)

It doesn't really help that I am sitting for a paper today.
Or that I am not feeling as well as I ought to be.

I never resolve to be a happier girl.

Albeit the overwhelming number of difficulties and dislikes I could [not] tick off my hands, I still must walk through Life at a leisurely pace.
Avoid taking upon myself the burden of being happy.

I mean - how can one be bent on being happy?
How much happiness can that bring me?
In the struggle to keep to my resolution, I'd have lost the eternal spark of pure joy.

Now, I may not be the brightest, but I am definitely not that dumb.
And in my one-and-a-half-cents' worth of opinion, being happy is indeed a burden.
I seek not happiness, but fulfilment.

(So when happiness swings by one day, I'll be ever pleasantly surprised.)

I'd like to live in a little cottage in the outskirts of the countryside,
spend my days watering dear plants
and pursue the love I once renounced in the face of societal pressure.

Ah, bliss! What delicate bliss!

Any takers? Any?

2005-03-21T00:16:00.000+08:00

Deprivation of proper eye-shut for 48 hours straight is detrimental.
At least I had four packets of chips, peppermint tea
and a raging fever for company.

Excuse me, but I need to feast on some delicious slumber.

2005-03-17T13:01:00.000+08:00

I am a l-o-u-s-y friend.

You never knew -

I am difficult and bothersome.
I never have enough time for you.
I am a kvetch, a moron.
I spew words sweep like hailstorms; saltwater like tidals.
I am high-strung, O so annoying.
I am the camel whose back was broken by a straw.

I. Naggy. Greedy.
I. The fishmonger.
It's all about I, revolving around I, only I.

Life isnt as it was anymore.
That tame domestic cat you know is not me.
I really tried and you will never know the sarcasm I had to put up with.

I failed, that's all.
I am sorry I failed.

2005-03-15T23:41:00.000+08:00

"Hello, God? It's me, Your Servant. - "

I really want to claim the reassurance of His love for me.
And her.

I will give anything in the world to quell the shared fear.
Muted fear that ends in faraway sunshine - an arduous passage which hides a terrible storm.
Looming before us, its gloom shadows all signs of summer sunshine.

Yet in faith we know and trust to glimpse the inkling of a sparkling sweet summer through the rippling thunder.

Will you believe in me?
Will you trust Him?

" - I'm all of a dither now, Lord! I run to You in times of need. I know You
hear my heart's desires. I know You are always true to Your words, too. You
promised the Holy Spirit as my Comforter, so I pray the same for her now. I am
but Your humble servant, but will You heed my cry tonight? Will You take away
our fear?

We are caught totally unaware. What can she do? What can
I possibly do?

Her anxiety cannot be a solo: I will always love
her, because I love You, O God. And I love You, because You first loved me...

and that my soul knows very well. "

2005-03-12T12:30:00.000+08:00

Oh, what galore!
Expelling extremely excruciating ennui,
I am all wrung.

All ye sharp-tongued homosapiens,
hold thy venemous words.

Why, see!
I am under scrutiny of a bloody, glistening apex of death.

Know it is the sword from my sheath.

So, it's the end of Gums 'N' Roses (for now).
We are all spiralling steadily into dejection, amidst a scurry of our submission of proposal essays, flash assignments and radio capsules.

Or was it the status quo, merely brought into light?

Liswanto is so nice.
I feel bad for always making him stay back to install macromedia for me.
I still am in denial regarding his cousin being Sammi Cheng.
For the exception, JLo was speaking the truth.
JLo has been ultra nice too.

Well, it is the last two weeks of this semester and first year.
HuBiaQuaTinNa are all feeling pretty awful because of that.

I hope I can get the Poetry and Drama IS module next sem.
(Oh Lord, please help me.)
It will be Desmond Wee again, and he is just such a cool lecturer.
Therefore, I must demonstrate the full-spirit of kiasuism when it comes to enrolment on NPalNet.

At this point, I shall end off by apologizing to the victims of MHA.
You guys have been unknowingly bombed, yet still have been so nice about it.

I have to say so many thank you(s) to so many people,
I guess that will come befitting at the end of the semester.
That will be when we shall all gather and weep in unison.

A sneak preview first -

And to raba raba rabia sakura (!):
yes, I am extremely greedy.
I eat alot and shall balloon up with pride.
Do I get a distinction for being Little Miss Greedy?

And to Hoooooooooood-a!:
You love me! ... and everyone else ):
But nobody can steal Lissy away from you, dahling.
Can I please have his cousin, Sammi Cheng, instead?

Now, it's time to have a lil fun with my Johnny-with-the-broken-neck.

2005-03-10T14:54:00.001+08:00

This is ridiculous.
Rabia's lappy is totally unreliable and pissive.

This is a cover on the entry I had just now.
And like I say, second-attempts are just crap.

What was I saying?
Ah, yes -

There are no such things as a breather or a break.
(Damn those kit-kat commercials)
There can only be unjustifiable tempers and endless fatigue.

I hate being misunderstood..
I know you do, too.
The mere distinction here being the piercing directness of personal insult and blatant assumption that leads to outright malign.
(I won't even bring in the topic of spelling and grammar.)

Look at what you've done.
You just reaffirmed my waning suspicions.

Perhaps you were right, and I was wrong.
Wrong in not fulfilling your expectations of the bitchiness in me.
My apologies for not forewarning of the gnawing cynicism within.

I am no angel, indeed.
I get tired, too.
I can't do a project all by myself, either.

So just let my eyelids flutter in simmered drowsiness, my
body collapse, and my mind slip into the long-awaited sweet unknowing .

2005-03-03T20:55:00.000+08:00

This is sheer joy and relief.
This is post-IS euphoria

But I am terribly disappointed with some things, some people.
But it's alright.

More after the horrigible test on saturday.

2005-02-26T23:48:00.000+08:00

Not vying to be exceptionally kvetchy, but I must conclude that some guys can get rather crass. I won't have much first-hand experience to vouch for, since I seem to have more chemistry with cissies and himbos, but I seriously ought to put some weight upon insights from certain girlfriends. Exceptionally observant and sensitive girlfriends. After all, wise words from a woman should never be too far off from the reality tangent.

I digress.

So, statistics have proven the male population to be lacking in a certain substance called EQ. Ah, yes - the all encompassing pair of letters that threatens the hegemony of men today. You can hardly blame us, women, for this emerging menace because it was a man, you own clan member, who came up with this brilliant theory. Daniel Goleman, if you must know and curse him under your breath all the days of your life.

Little or no EQ, however, does not suffice as justification for insensitivity, stupidity, or simply a combination of several resulting attributes. It is awfully sad to see a girlfriend getting all upset because someone failed in managing his emotions and related behaviour. A point to take note: it does not happen just five or ten times to two or three ladies.

These guys continue to wonder why they are swinging singles. Ending on a lighter note, I guess nobody has the heart to puncture their inflated egos by enlightening them on how they ought to conduct self-QC.

And yes, I consider this to be a lighter mood, my love.

I met up with Yvonne.
Slurping yoghurt and cat-fights are never such great fun without her.

As usual, we went bonkers together.

I suppose there's a side of ourselves unbeknownst to anyone else.
Just the one facet where you can totally be yourselves, which you present to a limited audience.
That of one for me, but I shan't be greedy.

O Level results are coming out on Monday, and I am anxious beyond words.
I realised Time passes at a frightening pace.

Time doesn't fly.
Time skyrockets away and away and away.

(while I dawdle along, sleepy eyes and all)

2005-02-25T00:30:00.000+08:00

steaming cups of blues
one at a time, my love
savour each slowly
drink in its bitterness, drop by drop

by drop

Is it me, or is it me?

I can be the nicest person you ever knew.
I can be the weirdest.

I can be the coldest and most ruthless too.

Niceties are free, but they never come cheap.
Consider the opportunity costs.

Look at what you have done.

Nevertheless, I am happy.
Whatever about, I do not know.

What's crucial now is to keep on smiling.
Keep on breathing.

In moments of rash emotions, I get in the mood for waxing lyrical. Now I understand why admirable men like Wilde and Van Gogh are strapped by society for their seemingly absurd inclinations. They found solace and joy in those course of actions. They found themselves amongst the throngs of faceless crowds who didn't.

Catharsis warranted, my love.

2005-02-22T21:33:00.000+08:00

constant blues' an epidemic among us

Even though I still defend my previous post,
the highly impulsive-depressive mood ought not mar this little thought-haven.

Verdict - replacement required.

How many times do you think I can repeat the words 'Thank God'?
The worst of WebCG is over.

To crapping buddies Noor, Nurul and Hana -
sorry for all the times I screamed and yelled at you guys.

[but there's still marketing, so expect more of the panic attacks]

School's such a chore.
I hate schooling.

Have I mentioned that school puts me straight to bed?

I watched Black Hawk Down again.
The VCD's at home and I still want to catch the one on Channel 5.

You never want to watch this show with me.
I am animated like anything when I go through the scenes.
Black Hawk Down is just so alluring.

Yeah, I know.
What a word - alluring.

Yesterday was just too lousy a day for me.
Project work always put my best friendships on the butcher table.

I decided it's never ideal to work with people you are too close to.
I rather hack at those I do not think a waste.
A waste to hurt them with my words.
My words and absurd attitude.

I am quite upset about running out of Marketing lecture.

On a serious note, the notion of having to submit an assignment worth 35% at 5 pm when you have only the navigation bar and banner to show at 4.13 pm is too much to bear with.

Oh, but facing J.Lo after that was the ultimate guilt-trap.
I would have felt better if he uleashed some of his sarcasm, but no.
He didn't.

And I'm plagued by incessant guilt pangs.

All hail Mass Commers.

I need to find God.
I need Him here.

2005-02-18T13:14:00.000+08:00

I missed Jive while I'm at it - Latino dancing still intrigues me. (except for the schedule part)

Remnants of Cha-cha and Salsa linger in my mind, so that's alright.
I really do want to learn Samba.

The good news is they dropped the fees, pared it to half!
But I still haven't gotten good shoes and a skirt.

Shawn and Gladys rocks (the school, not the persons. they were either really stuck-up or truly kancheong)

Well, no more Bridget, but Melvin will do.
He's afterall our nation's pride in Latin ballroom (:

Loads of work and play swirling around - almost menacingly, I would say.
I need to master self-control and patience.

2005-02-17T03:54:00.000+08:00

3.56 in the dead morning.

In the last leg of my [not so] freshman race, blogging takes a backseat. Getting a couple of good grades should not allow me to bask in the glow and rest on my laurels.

Never.

I have to press on and make a mad dash for the finishing line. With so many things happening concurrently and all vying for my attention, I feel really wrung. But what's a little fatigue when I am reasonably happy?

So in true fashion of my favourite advertisments, here is mine:

Cabfare to beat the deadlne: $12
Printing at the Auntie shop: $1.20
Euphoria over history-smashing essays: priceless

2005-02-11T04:36:00.000+08:00

Overdose of essay-writing renders me at a complete loss for words now.

Tucked away, tapping furiously at the keyboard.
You could say I am at the brink of self-reproach and sympathy.

Make yourself comfortable in my nocturnal dimension, won't you?
(At this point in time, all you can see will be my dangerously saccharine-sweet smile.)

Four-thirty in the morning:
I still have one more set of research cards to go.

I need You, Abba Father.

There's still radio tomorrow.

I think P.Wong ought to revise the semester schedule for next year.
'Tis inhumane to put students through such inane torture during CNY.
I am thoroughly sick of foot-binding now.

Let me drown in absymal silence forever.

2005-02-07T14:15:00.000+08:00

I truly should run into a pillar.

Who would have known?
My own great-grandmother victimised by foot-binding.
Now it pains me doubly to write about it anymore.

So much for forgoing the Monday lectures just to finish the essay.

[NURUL.Nurul.nurul.
Please forgive me for letting you wait at DAW for so long.
Pardon my senility and sleepiness.

I'll never call you Huda again,
and look!
I even used your fave Barney colour]

Brilliant.
Now our one-minute SFX capsule for radio is stalled.

BRILLIANT.

O Mentally-Challenged Me.

I have Sunday blues.
Sundays scare the daylights out of me.

Sundays ceased to exist.

And I think I am addicted to the Holy Spirit.

Chinatown is/was a complete horror, I say.

Ugly Singaporeans rearing our ugly heads at each other.
(I reiterate: 'I' am never mutually exclusive)

Talking about Singaporeans leads us to crabs.
(You see the link, do you not?)

How many legs does a crab have?
Do they look sideways or upfront?
Why are pepper crabs always larger than chili ones?

The kind of questions we asked.
We even had our own bread (Ha, ha!)

We are supreme, man.

Timothy Koh.

A totally unfamiliar name.
What audacity to sms me and annoy me with his incessant laughter!

Better still, replied with 'u don noe me n i don noe u either'

BAH.

G O A W A Y .

I may have multi-faceted personalities.
Call me Debbie and Debbeee and Debbeeeeeeeeeeeeee (or bebe will do for fellow CWs).

Like a diamond.
Like the Centenary.

So many colours within the same diamond.

I can't write properly now.
I must focus on my essay.

Adieu.