shipping out

"You can drive up and down this street all you like. Because I don't live here anymore!"

That was probably my favorite scene in SATC. When Carrie Bradshaw finally finds the gumption to tell Big she's so over him.

Anyway, it's new year's eve, and we'll (random friends and cousins) be leaving the house soon for a Countdown. Why they've decided to go to all that trouble, I'll never know. And you don't even get the Countdown Kiss here because it's just not tradition. Dad cooked up a storm tonight. Am wondering if I'll spill out of my dress. More than anything, I'd just like to curl up in my dark dark room one last time and watch Sabrina on repeat and have my heart ache over and over. Not mingle with a bunch of strangers whose presence will only make the loneliness even more acute.

We've finally moved back. So well, I don't live here anymore. This is the last night we'll be sleeping at the old new house, and come 2007, we'll be staying at the new old house for a long time yet. Can't say I won't miss this place, in particular, the basement carparks and gym that's 30s away (not that I use it, but it's comforting to know that it's just outside...), and the boys'll miss the facilities etc. I'll miss the wonderful rooftop we never used. That's about it. My room at the new old house is basically a walk-in-wardrobe with a bed and 30inch flatscreen. There's more wardrobe than room. It's still teeny, but at least there's light now, and the evening sun spills delicately through the gossamer curtains and it's pretty. But inifintely less sexy than my barely lit basement hangout. It looks pretty virginal. Palest blush on the walls with white and wine accents. Oh well. My mum's idea of what she'd want her daughter to like I suppose : ) Am grateful for the wardrobe space. It's genius.

Happy new year, and a Countdown Kiss!

monday's child

Linus! Why didn't you tell me? You do want to take me with you, don't you?

These don't mean what you think they mean.
I know why you didn't tell me. You think it's wrong. They'll say I'm too young, there'll be a scandal, and the market will go down. Linus Larrabee Esquire is taking me to Paris.

Sabrina, l... wasn't going to take you to Paris. I was going to send you.

Alone?
Yes, all alone.

But there's a ticket for you.

For an empty cabin.

You were joining me in Paris?

I'm afraid not.

I think I understand.

I'm sorry.

But why? Why did you do it, Linus?

High finance. Expansion. Marriage. A merger. A new plaque on the Larrabee Building. You got in the way.

David?

That's right.

How inconsiderate of me. And how inconvenient for you, such a busy man, having to waste so much time to get me on a boat.

I'm ashamed to say I enjoyed every minute of it.

And I suppose, in your empty cabin, there would have been a farewell note, dictated to and typed by Miss McCardle? And perhaps a few flowers.

A little more than that. A letter of credit. An apartment in Paris. A car. Shares of Larrabee Preferred for your father.

You're very generous.

We regard it as a necessary business expense.

I'll just take one of those tickets. I was happy in Paris. I think you would have been, too. Good night, Mr. Larrabee. I'm sorry I can't stay to do the dishes.

woods and trees

I have a secret place.

That people go to but doesn’t belong to anyone else but me. They see it, but they don’t see it for what it is. And I delight myself in the knowledge that this secret place is all my own, my refuge and my comfort in a world where secret places hardly exist anymore.

I visit as often as possible because I can’t help but be drawn to it. And as I sit watching myriad faces pass me by, some familiar some not, I find the still unruffled core of my heart that revels in the joy of such public private delight, taking perverse pleasure in keeping a secret so openly, but to which only I hold the key.

broke

I have in my possession a most infuriating watched pot. It never boils when you watch and will and want it to but when you least want hot water, there you have it – it boils away like the little Pot That Could.

When caught out like that, I always feel like telling it to either boil when it’s needed or stay Ornamental. But I never do, and always find some use for the nice hot water, even if it is to soak my feet in. And if I weren’t such a sentimental fool, I’d chuck the darn thing. As I ought. Only, it does still boil, albeit at the most inappropriate times, and it does so most charmingly, puffing and whistling away and well, one can’t have too many footbaths.

So there it stays, my inconsiderate watched pot that boils only when it wants to. Because I remain a fool.

Maybe I’ll toss it out come new year’s eve.

the Observer

When privy to a hit-on, I often vacillate between feelings of amusement and cringing painfully in my seat.

Not hit-ons on me personally of course (God that'd be the day), but hit-ons on my darling friends. It becomes painfully obvious to a third party (loathe being a third wheel but there you have it – singletons just don’t have it easy) when a man is obviously trying to come on to a girl, who hasn’t quite yet decided if he’s a shit or God’s gift to women.

It’s amusing when he’s doing his best to impress, and some of them are quite successful here, but it becomes cringey and almost pathetic (tis not my intention to be mean, But.) when the lady decides she’s had enough and that he is a shit but he’s just not getting it.

Everything plays out most adorably and it’s just so obvious to the observer, that one wonders why it isn’t obvious for either of them. Well, one of them at least, at any rate.

Poor men. Some women are such bitches I wonder why they bother. Not that women have it easy either. Some men are just so disgusting they oughta do things to them that we don’t know about. Like massive makeovers or a lobotomy. Before their reintroduction to society.

Then there’s the hit-on that’s spot-on. When two people meet and there’s instant attraction and sizzling chemistry that’s obvious to merrymakers all round and The Observer decides to move on outta there to let the two of ‘em get it on : ) Which explains the early night.

Merry Christmas darling! Told you he’d arrive, sooner or later.

that's all

The past few entries aren't accurately reflecting my current happy zen-like frame of mind.

So. Just to prove I've been otherwise happily occupied in the midst of moving houses (which admittedly, is a pain), these are some pleasant things that have occupied my senses:

1. Curse of the Golden Flower
2. Arrested Development (wahahahahaha)
3. Prison Break 2 (I'm beginning to adore t-bag)
4. "Jose Mourinho -- Anatomy of a Winner" (bryan's christmas surprise)
5. Peaches from some remote prefecture in japan (the sweetest and juiciest ever)
6. That's All specifically, the version by Steve Tyrell (one of my favorite songs)
7. "Staying at Daisy's" by Jill Mansell (trashy 4week-overdue novel that's so funny I can't bear to return it till I'm finished)
8. Ocean's 11 (oh George. plus it's also one of my favorite crime capers)
9. To Catch A Thief (oh Cary Grant!)
10. The Matrix (I still think it's genius)
11. Ten-inch wieners for lunch (chicken, not pork)
12. Angel Innocent, Thierry Mugler

I can only give you love that lasts forever,

And a promise to be near each time you call.

And the only heart I own

For you and you alone

That's all,

That's all

Oh I know jazz is sometimes incurably corny and romantic, but I still love it so. I love it especially late at night, when I'm all alone and there's always hope and magic and the thought of somebody sometime next time to look forward to. And even if there weren't, there're those for whom all this exists, and that's almost just as good. That so many wonderful feelings are shared by so many, that these songs really mean something because they're true, after all.

stopping at 2

Mama knows best. Well better, at any rate. Better than me.

She was totally right about gel eyeliner being better than liquid. She was totally right about those gold shoes being uncomfortable. She was spot on about that black dress that’d drive everybody wild (it is currently my dress du jour). She was right about bangs. She was right about eye cream. She was right about caffeine and wrinkles.

There’s one big thing she never got right though – blind dates. She was totally wrong about those.

I think blind dates won’t ever work with me. Well, in the way mama hopes they’d work. Because it’s just plain uncomfortable. And at best I’d walk away with a new friend, and at worst, well let’s not even think about it. Not saying I’ve done this lots of times, just twice, and way back when I was young and impressionable. And I’m not going to be subject to some more social experimentation anymore. It’s just tedious and worse, Boring. And even humiliating come to think of it. As if at 21 I didn’t have a life. Or a mind of my own. Or any ability to attract somebody. Which, even if any of the above were true, I wouldn’t need anybody (not even my mama) publicising that to all and sundry.

So no more, mama. Not even if the third one’s supposed to be lucky. No More.

20/20

I have a huge problem remembering things in entirety.

My memory is hugely selective, and I only ever remember good things. And even the really bad things become vague with time simply because it’s just nasty trawling through all that ickiness so I chuck it out of sight and mind, and soon, it becomes all blurry and that’s just the way I like it. Pretend like it never happened.

But not the way I need it. I need to remember more of the bad, and get less suckered by the good. Because there’s that – I wind up a sucker otherwise.

Not that I want to harbor grudges or any such thing. Because it goes against my natural instincts.

But this vermin really needs to stay out of my life.

If it hops and buzzes and smells like vermin…

Bugger and it’s Christmas for chrissakes.

the lee of the rock

Everybody always tells me what a Good Girl I am. You know, no late nights, no ciggies, no boys over at the house, no DRUGS (honest, not even weed), no personality disorders, no mood disorders, no abortions, no credit card bust-ups. Basically, your goody-two-shoes dream of a daughter.

But the thing is, you can't be "good" unless you know what "bad" is. And you've actively made a choice to be good. I'm merely sheltered. And ignorant. Protected from all the "bad stuff" by parents who love me too much to let me make wrong choices. I never saw a girl my age and well-educated high on uppers and 5's and heroin, never even heard of one till tonight. Never puffed on a cigarette, never intended to get pregnant before marriage, and because of my social conditioning, will never ever do either. Needless to say if it weren't for medschool I probably wouldn't know the difference between heroin, opium, coke and weed. And even then, I only know the nerdy chemical consequences and classifcation of the drugs, as opposed to their street names or where to find them in Singapore.

I always wonder if left on my own like a weed as opposed to a pot of bonsai, I'd end up a junkie with multiple abortions and no money.

I'm not Good, really. Just never given a chance to turn Bad.

stalling

It's always easier to spill deepest darkest dirty little secrets to complete strangers in random places than to nearests and dearests.

Because there aren't any consequences. And they aren't invested. And they're allowed to be objective. And they don't have to take your side.

So I did. Random stranger sidled up to the bar stool next to me while I waited for a pal and we started chatting. It was a particularly dull and down night and my usually icy aloof bitch was weak and in the mood for a chatup, so it was alright. What started off as a "I'm with somebody so don't try anything funny" line of conversation progressed to a proper one, and we discovered a few mutual friends of friends (of friends?) so it was easy and even sorta fun. And he gave particularly good advice.

Later and alone, I thought about how everybody was living a life that mirrored someone else's from the past. You know? Not reincarnation per se, but because there're probably a limited number of permutations a life course can take, we'd probably be living a life similar to someone else's say... 143 years ago. Okay pretty warped, but I was bored stiff, and not at all in the mood for cocktails and fuzzy alcohol induced stupor.

When said pal finally arrived, we left the bar and went to watch The Holiday instead. Because Chasing Cars hurt too much.

maudlin mistletoe

"Does he make you laugh?" asked the one who did.

"He doesn't make me cry," said the one he loved.

Well as we all know, in the end she still went back to the one who made her laugh.

It's so hard sometimes, deciding beforehand. I mean, coming up with hypotheses is easier than living them out. Like, I try to tell myself to avoid certain species of people but when they come along and circumstances are changed, I always wonder if prejudice was what got in the way of my seeing them in different, better light. We don't want to cry, but what if all that laughing and fun comes hand in hand with tearful bouts of heartache and what if avoiding all that crying means having to settle for someone everybody says is better but in your heart of hearts you know you don't have magic with?

Oh I don't know anymore. Do they really know better? Or do we?

Settling. Selling out. They're just such awful concepts. I don't want to be a last resort, or a sort-of promising stock with option to buy or a future investment or just some random girl you picked up in a bar and thought you might get lucky with. I especially don't want to be "not bad" or "okay" or any other insipid adjective. I want to be somebody's Someone. Somebody's perfect match, perfect catch and the love of some person's life. And what're the chances that that somebody'll be my somebody too? Haha what a mess.

Oh it's Christmas I'm telling you. It's just making everything so misty and fuzzy and warm :) And Hope is like an intoxicating scent in the air that leaves one heady with ridiculous thoughts of pillow fights and hour long soaks in a tub.

nat eats!!!

Oh it was absolutely wonderful.

Bangkok remains one of our family's favorite places in the world. It's so easy to get around, is always exciting and the FOOD is just ... sublime. No other word for it. And it's somehow impossible to put on weight in bangkok despite all that eating because we spend the day roaming the streets and malls and it just keeps the kilos at bay, most enjoyably. This was mostly a foodie trip, although shopping of course figured a substantial part of it, because after all, it was the abalone rice and Greyhound cafes that daddy so craved that drove us there in the first place : ) This was without a doubt, the best outing there though. It was Perfect.

Sunday

When we arrived straight off the plane we headed to the Greyhound cafe at Siam Paragon (the latest megamall), a Thai franchise that just drives us wild. Especially the salmon sashimi (!!) which I could spend the rest of my life eating, chicken wings (the boys love'em but I don't touch the stuff) plus assorted thai dishes and perfect PERFECT parfaits which they serve in giant mugs that look so gorgeous you wish you wouldn't make a mess of them but you do anyway becausce they're just as delicious as they look. And dinner on Sunday was at Zanotti, a world-famous italian joint which served the most awesome T-bone steak I have ever had in my life. And prior to that we had course after course of appetizers -- prosciutto, foie gras, squid ink pasta with truffle, portobello mushroom, can't recall what else-- and together with T-bone steak, we shared giant servings of Fish (have no idea what species they were but they were achingly good). If only uncle H didn't spend the whole bloody evening puffing away at his cigar. It brought on my asthma and gave fat one and me a fever.

Monday

Shopping. For the first time ever mum and I actually fit into sizes other than M/L. We wore mostly S/M this time round so the Thai clothing manufacturers probably got round to accomodating the more average female form. Previously, clothing in bangkok was just too tiny to be practical. This time though... we let our dawgs out : ) Oh yeah. Shop till we drop? More like shopped till we were ravenous and aching. Shop eat shop eat shop. Eat. Eat. Yeah. Massage at HealthLand, which was so much better this time round. It was 2 hours of mindblowing bone-crunching, tendon-stretching bliss. Love how they make spines pop. And my sore stiff neck from all that headtossing on Friday (whoops) was totally fixed. Yeah! For dinner we visited another regular haunt -- The Mango Tree. It was disappointing this time round... flavorful but oily and not as memorable as before. Still serves a mean Tom Yum Gung though. Yeah. Tom yum. Great stuff.

Tuesday

Lunch at Napoli, another italian joint but this one specialises in Pasta. One of the best truffle fettucines ever, and served in a claypot covered with pizza dough and baked in an old-fashined stone oven to get maximum flavor. Ate till we absolutely couldn't anymore. Dinner at Kieat. This dodgy little hole in the wall near Patpong (bangkok's red light district) that supposedly serves the best Shark's Fin Soup and Abalone Rice. And it absolutely did. This was the King. The Numero Uno. The ultimate best meal. Okay fine. Tied with salmon sashimi and T-bone steak. The sharkfin broth was perfection and the abalone rice was sooooo amazing. Think -- thin slivers of fin in a piping hot golden broth with accents of ginseng, vinegar and prick nom pla (thai light sauce with chilli) and a dash of pepper... the scent of which leaves you dizzy. Generous slices of abalone in a soupy-saucy-special-broth served with a few spoons of rice that plugged that gaping hole in my appetite and left me so satisfied. As food seldom does. We are so going back.

Wednesday

A gorgeous, ingenious, superchic pair of ... bottoms? Because they haven't come up with a name for such a perfect invention yet : ) They're a cross between pantaloons and bermudas and capris and are black. In the most luxurious fabric. And they have ... suspenders! And are meant to be worn at the waist with a shirt cinched in and suspenders thrown over for good measure. They are a treasure : ) And they make me feel absolutely gorrgeous. Magic : )

Okay, am aching now from all that typing. And I've lost 2 kilos from Bangkok. Isn't that amazing??? Oh my gosh. I think it's because we didn't eat in between waiting for the orgasmic stuff, and walked a whole lot. I love this newfound metabolism!!! Hope I don't jinx it by talking about it, or my magic pants for that matter.

It's only been a few short days, but I have now renewed my zest for Life. Am recharged and in a supremely happy place. Armed with a new wardrobe : ) I love you and you and you and you! And me too!

Ahhhh! Endless engagements till Christmas, and then a trip up north to learn more racedriving skills : ) Happy holidays indeed.

And no shoomie, I'm not drunk/high. I promise.

flux!

The time I hold now is never coming back and I am wasting it a lot of the time. I should be reading more, retaining more of my experiences, listening more, exploring more, travelling more, going out more, eating more, drinking more, exercising more, LIVING more. Grow up quicker, make life fuller, be less of a Robot.

Finally feel a need to break out and go off-track for awhile.

But I love my toil-ridden, claustrophobic, un-exciting, unromantic, naive, sheltered, completely simple life too much. And there's NO TIME. I am simple, I have come to realize.

Comfort, delight, convenience, ease. Hedonistic Lazyass.

I drive the same routes everyday, because it's comforting. I eat the same stuff everyday, because my tastebuds are unadventurous. I listen to the same track over and over because I love how it makes me feel. I wear the same stuff over and over because they're seldom wrong. I've ogled the same men since I was 17.

Things need to change. Help help help?

this island

Pictures, because am rushing off to Changi, back on Wed/Thurs. Won't miss me aye : )

friday evening, pagoda street, chinatown. mission: pick up white kimono, spot hot monk

distracted!
jackpot!
friday night, after the opening of the cannery, butter factory pre-drinksoops. guilty red grimace. we're smashed (really. okay maybe not jean)
hahaha jln kayu post-party prata! our bill? $3.40!
oops... price just went up to...
$4.60!
saturday night live: trinity from the matrix, o-ren, corpse bride
with gorgeous :) HAPPY BIRTHDAY darling manny!!
issac lizard, hanboon clark kent, dickson roddick
goodbye : )

spiralling

Celebrated the end of the school year with lunch at Marmalade. It was so nasty though -- we had cocktails for starters (I hadn't eaten in almost 18hours) and I'd ordered White Russian, which I never do because vodka just obliterates my airways and puts me to bed, but I've always wanted one of my own so I went ahead with it. Was stupid that way. I had two of those darn things plus a Long Island and by the time my miso-baked tofu came along, I was smashed. Gone. Wasted. Depressed. Euphoric too. Shitass crazy. Falling asleep, giggling like a nut and rambling nonsense. It was pretty hilarous and pathetic and uncool and fun at the same time but oh well. YAY. It's all OVER. The good thing about alcohol for me is that it wears off within an hour and a half or so, without any effects (champers' a whole other story though), so I could drive myself home after that. Lunch lasted from 11 to 3. A bloody marathon. Have figured I only really lose it when I drink on an empty stomach. But don't drink often enough, so I never know my limits. Only what feels good : ) Take that, Apley! I am done with ORTHOPAEDICS!

Stepped out of the car and into the house only to decide that I'd wanted to go Chinatown so I spent the afternoon/evening with sticky skin and grimy nose and in the rain. It was nice, the indians weren't though (yeah there're plenty of 'em in Chinatown). It was exactly like it was in Egypt. They wouldn't leave girls alone. I bought a white kimono for my O-ren (Ishii) costume for Manny's bash tomorrow. And a present for Theresa's birthday tomorrow too. And foot cream so I can step out in gorgeous feet tonight. Oh tonight!!

poodle

What's left:

1. MCQ-OSCE Part II

2. Two more lousy write-ups

Couldn't get to sleep last night. So instead of being constructive and starting on both my lousy write-ups or reading my Ortho text, I engaged in equally energy-sapping albeit less important activities -- sorting out my clothes and accessories (we're moving soon, I think). Have found that at last, there really aren't many things I won't actually wear ever again left in my wardrobe. Unlike in the past (as recently as half a year ago), where everytime I sifted out stuff, half the cupboard would find it's way out the door. Better choices now, I suppose. The accessories though, are a whole other story. Am left with roughly a third of the stuff. Shoes and bags after tomorrow. I hate going through shoes. Bags worse. Can never bear to part with them.

The light in my room's really bad and I generally get up late always, so I'm always throwing on the same old staples. But after sorting out all my stuff yesterday, I packed those staples away and drew my other unworn old new clothes to the front. And for the first time in months (minus special occassions), I put on a pair of earrings today and to celebrate, went out to town with a million chapters and two lousy write-ups still untouched. Can't help it. It's DECEMBER and less than two weeks to Christmas and I'm too young to be working through the festivities!!

Red nail polish, like red lipstick, is probably the hardest thing to do. First, you have to find the perfect shade -- too dark and it becomes goth, too bright and you wind up looking like a streetwalker. And then, you'll have to apply it just right -- any mistake/chip/smudge and you've gotta start over. I tried an old shade of Rochas red that I'd found in my dressing drawer last night, instead of my trusty Red Red Rhine. It'd been hidden away for so long, I'd forgotten why. So I happily gave myself a pedicure in my semi-dark cave of a room and this morning when I walked out into the sun, I realized why I'd kept it out of sight. It's the ultimate Slut-red. It'd probably look gorgeous on someone fair, but it looked totally wrong on my poor feet. Felt like an SPG. And it's impossible to remove, as all Rochas nail colors are : (

fugly toes : (

It's not the holidays yet, but I've run out of steam. Have never felt more sapped in my life. Well, sides from A-levels. Tuesday sapped whatever was left of my drive and I'm just cramming everything in one last time tonight and shall pray for the best.

I never do this though, ramble on like a bimbo and Oh right. I remember now. I'd wanted to whinge about how people never fail to remember how much each item of clothing costs. Specifically there's this column in Urban and these 'good-lookers' get asked about their get-up and it's just awful how they always know the prices of their stuff and tell everybody about it. I mean, can't they feign amnesia or something? ("Aahh be nice! be nice!")

Am at my neurotic worst right now : ( I really really need Friday to be over.

mulberries

Lousy idea, watching a latenight movie alone. Even on a Tuesday night. Especially when seated in the last row in a half-filled theatre. You see ALL the action, and hear it too. And there's no one to share a laugh with you. What's with these people? There are parkbenches and stairwells and empty bathrooms where there's at least a modicum of privacy... Oh well. I'm single and sometimes in need of a cuddle, but getting my freak on in a theatre sure ain't something I'm looking forward to when that someone finally comes along.

The house is full of flowers now : ) Christmas hampers and well-wishes all coming in (tad early) and we've got two baskets of ponsiettas and a whole bunch of other white bridal stuff (like the ones down there). Gotta love the hampers though. There's one with a stocking full of dark chocolate and nougat. Love the chocs, loathe the nougat (they've got a funny smell).

Poo. Gotta stop munching. If not being sick and losing Xkilos would've gone down the drain and the skin would head for craterville too. Bad chocolate, bad chocolate!

platonic

“Does it have a happy ending?”

“As only celluloid can deliver.”

Am in a fantastic frame of mind : )

Ortho clinical posting test just over, and it went as good as could be expected, better even, when one factors in 1 finnicky old prof and 1 lazy student. Dr K was a real blessing though -- he was the Buffer who smoothed lots of Prof L's edges and made things much nicer and easier than they would've been otherwise. I've been really slack with this posting... No excuses. Ortho is practical knowledge (we'll probably need to keep it, unlike something dumb like ... hm. plastics?), it's not boring, it just doesn't catch my fancy. It's like the nice guy you meet and like, but aren't ever considering going out on a date with. Y'know? Ortho is my platonic guy friend to whom I am not even remotely attracted.

I wound up with a prolapsed intervertebral disc (slipped disc) for my long case, and a pair of crutches, Russell's traction and an external fixator for my 3 short cases (why I'm telling you this I have no idea). And well, I could've taken the test in my second week of posting and they would've been none the wiser because the knowledge required was already delivered then, and I was still ignorant and would probably still remain ignorant till the month before final mbbs about the many esoteric orthopod stuff they asked today (which wouldn't have been necessary had I not baited them).

Flowers today : ) Beautiful flowers. And a wonderful dark chocolate fudgecake. And Casino Royale tonight (albeit, all alone... but it isn't Friday night so it's alright). I am again, Happy.

Aren't they bee-yootiful : )

cottage cheese

"To a smart girl, men are no problem -- they're the answer."

Haha another Zsa Zsa classic. Well, it's clever, but all the same, while tempted to think that men are the answer to some things, they simply aren't the answer to everything. Happiness is elusive, even with someone to love and who loves you too, and it's also what I want most in life I think : ) To be happy. It's probably better than being content.

Today, I was happy, albeit sick and stressed. Fat one, skinny, ma and I watched The Holiday (yeah 2 days before the ortho practical on Tuesday bleurgh), and it was warm and fuzzy and so perfect for the season! I loved every minute of it. And I'm not even a Jude Law fan! He really worked with Cameron Diaz though, and Jack Black, who's usually such a pain in the arse, was perfect for his role. And of course, Kate Winslet, overdramatic and neurotic in bits, but she played the vulnerable lovelorn fool to perfection just the same. Ah my sympathies! Only I wouldn't ever want to wind up with Jack Black, E-V-E-R.

That aside, the ENT are still bad. Now my ears are all plugged up and I can't hear out of my left ear. Plus my voice sounds like it's been put through a grater. Am wondering how long before this bug decides to find another host. I'm tired of feeling such a weakling.

Need to get back to ortho, stat.

And anyway, this smart girl says -- men ARE a problem :P

burning eyeballs

The worst thing about missing somebody is not having them miss you back.

Makes you feel a complete fool, because you can’t help yourself, and neither can you do anything about the fact that they don’t.

Well, I’m not helping myself any, but if it helps make me less of a loser, I think of people not worth thinking about only 55% of the time now, as opposed to a chart-topping 75% way back when.

I think it’s an inherent Arian trait you know. The playing hard to get thing always gets to me. I never hold on to a good thing when it comes too easily. And when it finally goes and really never comes back, it’s like “oh my GOSH what have I done??”. Conversely, when finally holding one's long-awaited prize in hand, one is left to wonder -- what on earth was it that drove me wild in the first place? I am Ms Contrary : (

On a happier platform, my baby’s back : ) I’ve missed it so! The powerful rev, the wonderful sound system, the union jack, and best of all, the joy of changing gears and thumbing noses at ah bengs in their zenged-to-the-max subarus with pipes the size of sewers.

And the bloody bug has made its way up to my nose and eyes and my head. It's a frigging war of fire eyeballs up. It better be okay by the morrow because I need the weekend to mug for ortho on Tuesday (eep) and Friday (shite).

chips

10am today. 1 pack of tisuses down, 9 more to go. Bad bad nose. Worse throat and HEAD. Bugger.
Ahahahaha tongkat ali is malay viagra! This tutor had a whole cupboardful of them (whoops better hide his face).
This was what I had to contend with the night before the big test. TEMPTATION argh.
AAAAAHHHH!

tonsilitis?

Whatta shitty paper. Hopefully it'll end up okay. I mean it's not like I didn't try!!!

And am down with a nasty throat infection that's slowly but surely spreading to my nose and ears and head. Hurts like a bitch. And the phlegm's the sticky green, absolutely impossible to cough out sort. Coughing hurts and not just the throat but behind my eyes and under my jaw and even my neck. Can't sleep at night because of the asthma and can't eat because I can't swallow.

Yay, should be able to fit into my new party clothes most nicely : ) Only my face is getting all puffy from the lack of sleep and the inflamed lymph nodes and the coughing. Shit.

And I did everything I said I would -- shop, sleep and read. Big splurge yesterday (post-stress so it's forgiveable), dresses, blouses, and a hot new RED lipstick (MAC vivaglam 4!) in time for the Christmas parties! Haha no shoes yet though. No alcohol yet either. And in line with my new starve-before-Christmas-binge plans, I am laying off champers and carbs. Till the 24th of course : )

Gorgeous new dress! Gorgeous new dress!

Isn't it horrible how materialism manages to fill up the aching void in my pathetic excuse of a life so perfectly? Wonder why.

"I learned in school that money isn't everything. It's happiness that counts. So Momma sent me to a different school."

back to school

Behold the proof and never doubt again.

Our termite-infested table!! Plus jos : ) who squashed a cockroach today, with me squealing away in horror. This is the second floor of the med block at NUS. We hate the library. It smells funny. Guy in the background praying for deliverance. Thank God we haven't reached such depths of despair.

My side!
Best friends -- iPod plus Haribo gummy bears. Love 'em.

Tomorrow. It'll all be over tomorrow! I shall sleep and shop and read trashy novels again. Tomorrow!!!

SINBAD

People are so mean, but also so so funny. Seems like I'm a philistine who's absolutely out of touch with datespeak. Well, at least I'm not a SINBAD!

While having tea today (2 days before the big pharm crappy CA yeah bite me) with an oldish friend (hot, 5'7, legs that go on forever, now running her own fashion retail outlet thing) who had a thing or two to teach about dating, dumping, and keeping men (having been through a wardrobe full herself), I was introduced to the world of SINBADs.

So this incredibly eligible friend of mine suddenly goes, "Oh Nat. At least you're not a Sinbad!!! Have you seen Harvey?" So of course I hadn't, and out came her blackberry. And there he was -- the most hideous excuse of a man ever. Short, botak, with a wispy goatee (the kind that looks like it belonged on another part of a guy's anatomy). Her Boyfriend.

She's not madly in love with him, just.. comfortable. She's been with him for nearly half a year already simply because she's had not enough time to break up with him properly and also because she's so busy she's not had time to meet other people. Well, people who'll hang around for longer than a ONS and actually bother to find out what's in store above those long long legs. Plus Harvey's eligible, in her opinion, because he's smart, got a great sense of humor, is so willing to accomodate her whims and fancies, respectable and best of all, he's madly madly madly madly in love with her. She hooked up with this dude following a disasterous year long tumultuous romantic crazy relationship with her ex.

Anyway, that aside. I couldn't believe someone like she was settling! After all those years of dating, all those years of getting to know people and getting in touch with who she was and what she wanted, going through eligible man after eligible man ... and it all boiled down to ... comfort? I asked her as much. And she said, "What to do? 31 already... Told you I was single-income-no-boyfriend-absolutely-desperate my dear."

Oh my heavens. I'll be damned.

blueteething

Working that phone camera! Haha I've only just realized I could've bluetoothed all my pictures.

The cat. Camera doesn't do her fur justice though. It's a lot brighter.

Mugging!

i love me

"One of my theories is that men love with their eyes; women love with their ears."

It was only a week or two ago that I'd declared that I was a clean slate.

But I guess one never really knows how clean one's slate is till one takes a good hard look at it. And the only reason why I did was because of the final bust-up which made me realize that we'd really come to The End of all the drama.

It's true though. I'd thought it was my heart that got bruised, but really, none of this made its way there. It's only my ego that got bashed up, and while I really liked this person, I never cared enough to really let him through the door (and vice versa, of course). We couldn't even officially claim to have had a relationship! Ego-bruising though it is to realize finally that someone who flattered you with attention etc never really got you, and never really made an effort to treat you as an intelligent being with thoughts of your own, and was always condescending and mostly inconsiderate, ego really counts for shite anyway.

I'm grateful for this though, because I've learnt so much from him. I've learnt what my deal-breakers are, how to deal with a jerk, and best of all, how to recognize when one really isn't 'in love', and simply taking the easy way out and settling for what appears to be a convenient arrangement. Okay fine fine -- the idea of the 'sexy older guy' was pretty intoxicating too : )

I'm so glad I didn't come out of this cynical or bitter. If anything, am more certain than ever of what I really want from a relationship, and that I really want a relationship where there's mutual respect and understanding and of course, Love.

just for the girls

How does one know what's Reasonable?

I never can decide if I'm asking for too much, or not expecting what a normal, decent, eligible girl should be entitled to.

For example, if he says he'll call/mail/make contact and doesn't till you've given up but says the nicest things when he finally does, is it too much to make a fuss? (For the record, I simply ignored him.) Or, if he says he'll give up -insert sacrifice- just for you and of his own volition, only to keep harping on it, is it wicked to resent him for being such a nag? (For the record, I told him to shut it and get back to -insert sacrifice-. Which he promptly did, of course.) And if he waits till the situation becomes practically irreversible to pull a trick like an all night movie conference call where we both watched -favorite hepburn movie- together on different continents, is it weak to forget about all the bad stuff and start over? (For the record, we were happy for 2 weeks before it all began again.) And if his response to a car crash was a non-stop barrage of I-told-you-never-to-blahblahs, is it very loserish of a girl to be turned on by all the reprimanding? (For the record, I cried, but was turned on just the same.)

But all those aside, the deal-breaker was when once again, we agreed to dinner at 8. And he stood me up. For the umpteenth time. For a conference call, again.

Was I unreasonable? Or was I a LOSER for waiting around till he did it the umpteenth time before calling it quits?

That's basically the only issue I'm grappling with right now. Am I reacting within reasonable limits, or have I earned myself a bitchslap?