quixoticity

i'm just me.. n that's ok

Sunday, July 25, 2004

i hope this works



did it work? can u see anything?

old photo at ubin. old rock quarry. that's water behind us, not sky.

i look like a boy. well, confession, i looked like a boy all the way til i came to NTU. Then i slowly (sloooow-ly) became more girlish. I'm still pretty uncouth in manner, but at least i now look like a girl.

thank gawd for small miracles.

i need sleeping pills~

regarding below

omg, when i wrote that shite below, i had in mind some rubbish about a werewolf story.

when i reread it, i saw the whole thing as a parable for a serious problem i'm having.

WEIGHT GAIN.

i'm fat. it's true, i've been told. to my face. many times. by many people.

well, what else is there to do in the hols?? i slack at home... and eat... and read (in bed)... and go out... and eat... and go home... and (repeat from start).

heeeeeelp.

question: Does PMS cause weight gain? Please tell me something good, even if you have to lie.

thanks.

my insomnia is back!!!!! effing shite~**

Thursday, July 22, 2004

don't ask me why i wrote this

She hurried along, glancing for the umpteenth time at the roiling clouds. It was time.

Then she stopped. And stared. And stared a while longer, open mouthed, craning her neck up so a shaft of milky moonlight glimmered on her taut throat, like an offering to be slashed and consumed. The orb of the full moon hung low in the dark clouds, obscenely bloated like a grinning corpse’s face. She bared her teeth in a grimace, recognizing the danger, her features momentarily beast-like.

A sibilant hiss escaped; her teeth clenched in pent up anger. There wasn’t much time. She had to go before it’s too late! Desperate now, she flees along the forest trail, heedless of the brambles and thorns, gaining a hundred shallow cuts and scratches as she fought to break free of the forest’s sinister embrace. Even as she runs, she feels the beast within her stirring, awakening. The change is coming!

Too late! She’s not going to make it! She threw back her head, howling in anguish. The primal sound of it ripped through the midnight woods, reverberating with fear, silencing all the forest creatures within. A note of pure terror...

The change... the change! It begins! She dropped to her knees, gasping, clutching at her throat. Her body jerked in spasmodic fits, cruelly throwing itself onto the stony path, thrashing like a beast seeking to escape its binds. With a sickening thud, the back of her head smashed on a rock. Mercifully, she passed out. The change continued unseen save for the forest creatures, which shrank away in fear, their petrified chitter, yelping and whining chorusing in a symphony of terror. The cacophony swelled for one unbearable moment; then subsides. A thick silence ensues; as one, the forest holds its breath in awful anticipation.

It is done. The once slim figure of the girl now lies blocking the entire path. She, no, it, lies unconscious, its heavy breathing raggedly filtering through the shuddering trees.

A creature, inhuman. A monster. An abomination whose mere gaze will arouse the deepest fear in any living, thinking being. And behind that fear, an unexplainable, killing hatred.

To look in its eyes is death. To run from it, instinct.

Yet what this creature wants, needs, more than anything, is help.

wanted



poster courtesy of wl.

i'm sooo pissed with blogger, i tried to upload a massive entry with lots of pics since monday and it failed. finally i accidentally deleted it and now i can't be bothered to rewrite the damn thing.

on the other hand, u readers have been saved from another piece of mind numbing crap, so thank your lucky stars.

technology, indeed.

Monday, July 19, 2004

my desktop

i'm bored, again.



my colleagues @ nick. my office, and the farewell lunch. other interns.

seems a million years ago

Monday, July 12, 2004

because wiff asked for death wish wishes

Remember Me

Remember me when I'm away
When no longer am I here to stay
Remember me whem I am gone
When against my will from your side I'm torn
If you should forget me in my absence
No longer shall I make known my presence
If thought of me from your mind do fly
By your hand I'm slain
By your hand I die.


Saturday, July 10, 2004

humph

so bored. so sad. nobody's free, got rejected twice in one morn. third time lucky? ... duwan. gonna sulk. *hmph* nobody wants meeeeee... sob.

last nite my little brother got up in the middle of the night. my sis saw him and (dun ask y) went "miaow..." my bro froze and came into the room, sayin to himself "kuching?? mana kuching??" ("cat? where got cat??") & he stood there for the longest time peering in the dark until my sis sat up laughing. (we don't have a cat but all of us wld die to have one, we're forever bringing up strays that my mom will bring down again the next day)

that's my family for u. don't blame me, blame my parents.

am now reading shakespeare (have a volume on his entire collection of plays, sonnets, poems, letters... thick as a phonebook and about as heavy) just finished Romeo&Juliet & i cried. (oh, shut up). maybe i'll read another play today, y not? there're worse things i can do on a balmy saturday than snuggling in bed reading shakespeare. (again, shut up.)

ooh, call me a bimbo but i wanna watch mean girls!!

i think im fey...

Friday, July 09, 2004

blurbs

The Cat In The Hat

Girl: The fish is talking!

Cat: But is he saying anything? No, not really.

{story of my life}

the sopranos

"All the girls in New Jersey, ya had to pick this one?" (whack) "For God's sake, Tony!" (sobs) "Cry. Cry like a bitch." (exit)

{watched dis @ 1 am on ch5 one sleepless nite}


Monday, July 05, 2004

Dreams

it's been a while.
since i woke up and gone str8 to words.
i'm not three quarts up yet.
it's a vulnerable feeling.

anyway, i've been having, nightmares? not quite. exhausting, series-like, dramatic sagas of dreams. yeah, throw in the odd ghost or two, some of it IS nightmarish.
but the rest is just plain ODD.

it's certified, for instance, that i'm displaying serious withdrawal symptoms.
someone i know is working part time continuing the internship. while he works two days a week, me, two nights a week, i go back to my former workplace somehow or another, and although i don't exactly work, i see the people there, my table... i'm dreaming of course. once is chance, even twice. but three times?? that's a bit much for sure. and it's been just over a week since i left, dios mia.
the other weird thing is the number of times i've had a nervous breakdown in my dreams. in my experience, that almost for sure tallies with the genuine article in real life. how droll.

not to mention the people who are making guest appearances. i've had the oddest acquantainces pop in for a role, many times before, so this is nothing. but the few who've had mojorly big parts, i feel connected to them somehow.
am i nuts? nobody pays mind to their dreams this much, surely. neither do i. once i'm up i forget all about it in a matter of hours, regardless how odd or horrific. but if night after night, the same theme of dreams recurr, doesn't that mean i have some issues to settle? that as yet i'm not heeding, but my subconscious is prodding o0ut gently to me, only the prodding is getting more persistent with time, and i'm getting a headache. well it doesn't actually ache per se, but i'm just puzzled.
oh well. shows u what an excess of time i have on my hands to be able to muse l;ong and hard on such a particuarly trivial matter.

i did have the idea, before, that if i were to document each and every one of my, umm, interesting dreams, i may well come up with a modernistic insensible novel. titled The Book of Dreams of course.
egad.

I walked up to a vending machine. This is the type that has to have a key inserted into it before u can insert coins. I pushed in my key and stood back to survey my choices. Along come two bimbos, one of whom's extraordinarily tall, and thin to boot. I hate her already. They go on to try to push their coins into the slot, but fail. Bimbos. I give them a few seconds, but though they plainly see me seething in the background, and my key in their face like an accusing finger, they ignore me and continue their antics. Finally my patience runs out and I push my way to address Tall Thin Bimbo number 1.

Me: What do think you're doing?
Bimbo: Buying a drink, duh.
Me: Are you blind? Can't you see I've already put my key inside first?
Bimbo: (Sniffs and looks away)
Me: (too angry to drink now, I yank my key out. It falls into the drain grating)
Me: FUck!!
Bimbo: Are you calling me a vulgar word?!
Me: (covering up) No, I just realised something - are you from TPJC?
Bimbo: Ya...
Me: Oh my god, don't I know u?

(At this point Bimbo and me stares abashedly at each other, drinks forgotten. After a while we both mutter sorry and head back to our seats.)

Real sounding? Well that's just one example of a dream encounter. The bimbo turns out to be one of my good friends whom I recently met up after years of not seeing. And we're on good terms. See what I mean? My dreams totally don't make sense. Well, maybe they're entertaining. The rest of my encounters are far more disturbing; situations that make me out to have a lot of feelings, for exmaple, towards individuals who in real life are no more than friends or even barely known acquaintances. Worse are encounters that paint me in bitter opposition to people who in real life are my good friends.

Oh, wtf, enough of this nonsense. I just think too much; NOT a good idea when it's all shit and rubbish.

adios.

Saturday, July 03, 2004

What Book Am I?




You're Les Miserables!

by Victor Hugo

One of the best known people in your community, you have become
something of a phenomenon. People have sung about you, danced in your honor, created all
manner of art in your name. And yet your story is one of failure and despair, with a few
brief exceptions. A hopeless romantic, you'll never stop hoping that more good will come
from your failings than is ever possible. Beware detectives and prison guards bearing
vendettas.



Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Friday, July 02, 2004

i'm a wuss

and i kill animals.

unborn animals.

turtles?

remember all those touching nature shows where Mom Turtle cries real tears giving birth to millions of eggs? and the pathos, the absolute inspiring moment when all the eggs hatch into cute little turtle juniors who look just like Mom, and the lively scramble when all of them lil' buddies dash madly for the water??

well, when was young, i remember watching that on tv. i remember too, going to geylang market with my mom, and yes, vague memories of buying turtle - turtle! - eggs, and reminiscence of her tipping some (liquid baby turtles) down my young, unsuspecting gullet.

yuck.

well yuck again. cos this afternoon, my mom excitedly calls me upon coming home from her market trip. she shows me four ping pong balls in a plastic. come, eat! she says. Turtle eggs! your favourite. Since when?? i shriek. last time u small u like to eat... nice la, just eat!

so... shudder...

i took one egg, slightly smaller than a ping pong ball, minus the plasticky texture, and pinched it open. i was supposed to smash it first apparently, to mix the yolk and albument, but hey, this is bad enough already. a colourless watery liquid drips from the torn egg, i take a halfhearted lick, the rest pools on the table. then the pale yellow yolk; i took a tiny bite, a powdery vaguely eggy stuff coats my tongue. at this moment, a vision of those little buddies swimming into my mouth. i hastily pushed the rest to my mom, who laughed and popped it all in(minus the shell), chewing with apparent enjoyment.

shudder.

i'm a baby turtle killer...

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