blablab-land

just one day at 2012

2012-01-01T02:36:00.005+08:00

In 2011 I:

- survived 2011,

- started to pay tax like an employee,

- managed to not get myself fired from job,

- took pole dance class and for the first time in my life, performed in front of public,

- got myself a gym membership,

- moved out and moved on ;)

Two thousand and eleven: The year I started to completely feel that I’m a full-flagged adult.

“Here’s to the end of another shitty year we’ll one day be strangely be nostalgic on.”

May you survive doomsday/tsunami/great flood/eruption/zombie apocalypse this year!

that awkward moment...

2011-11-13T16:04:00.002+08:00

...when you are reading poems or romantic writings that you wrote in the past and can remember exactly how you felt back then, but are completely unable to recall who you wrote it for.

about being cool

2011-11-13T01:42:00.000+08:00

How cool you are is not about what skill you posses or what you master. It’s all about how capable you are to just not give a single fuck to something that could well be a cause of emotional turmoil for the rest of normal, commoner, un-cool people.

I’m absofuckinglutely one of the coolest people you would ever know.

PS:

Ohai world. I’m still alive, and stronger.

just a thought

2011-08-29T22:59:00.003+08:00

If a man is not brave enough to have his ego challenged by you, he doesn’t worth your time.

How to be Sad

2011-04-29T00:23:00.001+08:00

Cry in the office toilet cubicle, try to wipe your tears and hide the red eyes to avoid questioning from colleagues or passers-by. Go back to your seat and feel stressed. Join dinner with colleagues, participate in a boring chitty-chatty conversations with them, take photos with them just because, laugh at things that isn’t even funny, avoid more than 5-seconds eye contact with anyone. Drink water and orange juice instead of booze.

Feel ignored and bored, play with your phones. Browse the sites that you regularly patronize, all the articles are sad. Excuse yourself earlier from the dinner. Cry on the way back to the train. Cool down and try to listen to some shitty songs to cheer yourself up and make you feel badass. Doesn’t work. Take the train.

You swear not to ever be nice to people again, not to ever laugh at some shitty jokes again just to make other people feel good. Swear not to work so hard ever again. Swear to be impolite, swear to ignore humanity and heart. Swear to bury friendship and compassion and empathy completely. Swear not to ever be human again. Swear to be a cold, cold hearted monster. Swear to turn yourself into a horrible human being who everybody else would hate. Throw in some blasphemies, add curses, garnish with some swearwords.

Catch the bus. Blame yourself for being boring, uninspiring and unmotivated. Blame the works that never end. Blame your boss who pushes you so hard. Blame your colleagues for being insensitive. Blame your friends who never care. Blame your parents who have no idea. Blame the life and the poverty. Blame the world for being unfair to you all this life. Blame God. Remind yourself that you’re an atheist.

Reach home. Cry in the shower. Feel good. Dry your hair. Write about the day. Go to sleep.

The next day, wake up and forget all about it. Back to be an emotionally vulnerable, psychologically unstable and all-around naive person who is who you were yesterday.

what happened in melbourne stay in melbourne

2011-04-13T23:38:00.003+08:00

From the recent Melbourne trip, I learn some uncheesy things like:

I thought I was good with directions when I needed to. Apparently I wasn’t.
When I’m drunk, apparently I : speak in higher tone, am not the bitchy-blabberish drunken kind, speak in perfect English, have more interesting topics to talk about (let’s not discuss further about this), am funnier, am a good dancer, am friendlier. In general, am much more attractive.
‘Hello Stranger’ kind of story could really happen. But why would you ruin memorable things with boredom? Why would you turn a sweet, funny, lovable lust object(s) to friend(s), and therefore reducing the thrill to nothing? (With this, am deleting the necessary phone numbers/emails and rejecting the un-necessary friend requests)
Hanging out with people you barely know (read: strangers) and crying each other’s heart out over some drinks is an experience everybody should have. After you’re back to sober, it feels meditative. And the best thing is, eventually you won’t even remember their last names (or their names at all, and so don’t they), so your secrets are good.
The best thing about travelling alone is not really the places that you visit of things that you buy. It’s really the people you meet.

every once in a while, a few fellas will come and destroy it

2011-03-07T10:50:00.007+08:00

Am too overwhelmed by so many good music and videos released/discovered on/near my birthday. I’ll take it as my gifts! Thanks awesome living music-makers of the universe ( I’m talking about YOU and YOU and YOUUU, Alex and Jules and the bands!).

Arctic Monkeys - Brick by Brick

(Alex, I hereby declare again that I wanna feel your body brick by brick. Let's just forget about how this song is too American or how the lyrics are so non-Arctic. Just rock n roll, brick by brick, aight)

The Strokes - Life is Simple in the Moonlight

(Can somebody please kick Miley Cyrus off of the screen?? On the more serious note, this is a very beautiful song by The Strokes. I'm rooting on this already.)

The Strokes - Under Cover of Darkness

(Now I figure why Jules was on twitter's trending topic yesterday.)

Look at what miss Eliza DOOlittle shared on her blog. Isn't this a very awesome rendition of The White Stripes' 'Seven Nation Army'?! Ah, reminds me of good old highschool time when I first knew The White Stripes (courtesy of MTV Trax magazine, which I suspect is no longer publishing now.) Now The White Stripes has dissolved and Jack is a father! Holysh*t how time goes.

Ben l'Oncle Soul - Seven Nation Army (The White Stripes Cover)

On the other note, Sara Bareilles <3 is love. Can't wait to cry my heart out on May, 11th.

Sara Bareilles - Gravity

the official birthday post

2011-03-05T10:17:00.000+08:00

I’m 22 today.

Beetch!

Last year I got a birthday wish from Alex Kapranos. It shot me over the moon, and I haven’t really got back from moon since. My friends, kind hearted souls, extended the fun by drafting a special birthday letter from ‘om Alex’. Kind hearted souls, they were.

Last night. A cute waiter at the bar wished me happy birthday (though from far away and when we’re about to leave). I was as happy.

Happiness is as simple as that. Those days were happy birth days.

PS:

Apparently when I was kind of drunk, I’d be talking about how I wanted to wash clothes on Wonbin’s abs. Pretty tame, don’t ya think? ;)

Overheard in Bus 2*8

2011-02-25T22:59:00.005+08:00

In the most tiresome and miserable moment in life, entertainment can come in a form of a very interesting conversation you overheard in a super-packed bus. In a place and time where and when you can’t have the luxury of space, you can even listen to others’ minds too, very clearly.

Boy (B) : So your birthday is coming soon. What do you want for birthday?

Girl (G) : Anything that you give to me would be special.

(Flowers are nice, but I prefer something solid, you know. Like diamonds, and oh, I figure that my neck and fingers would look more gorgeous with something sparkling, don’t you think?)

B : Sure, baby. I’ve given it a long thought actually. And I decided that…the special gift for you would be….myself.

G : What?

(Umm, HAHAHA, thanks. That would be really, um, interesting… Wait, you mean, something like birthday sex??)

B : I said, the special gift for you would be me, myself.

G : (giggling) Oh, that’s sweet.

(Oh ok, so it’s birthday sex. And you’re saying that it would be MY gift?? I can’t figu….)

B : You know, with the girls that I went with before. I never thought too much about their birthdays. I didn’t even bother to give them presents.

G : Really?

(Thanks, but now I’m confused. Are you really cheapskate or are you trying so hard to impress me?)

B : Yes. But with you, it’s different…I see my future with you.

G : Yeah, I do too.

(I hope your dick is as big as your joke…)

B : You know what, if I have a family, I’d like to have sons.

G : Why?

(…in addition, I hope men like you don’t populate.)

B : So you will be the only special girl for me.

G : (giggling) Ah, you.

(Ok this is too much. You know that people within radius of 30cm from us can hear this, right?? I can’t take any more embarrassment. Just tell me, what do you want from me??)

B : In fact, I’d like to have twins. Two boys, or more.

G : Yea, that would be nice.

(Good lord. I appreciate your opinion, but for your information, after this I don’t think I’m going to let my precious womb carry your offspring, thankyouverymuch.)

G : Eh, you know what, I’m stopping here. I need to get something from x shop for my mom.

B : Oh really? Then I’d go with you.

G : Ah, ok.

(Beetch! Quick, I have to cover my face with hair as much as possible, so nobody in this bus will be able to prove that I’ve ever dated someone as cheesy as you!)

dot dot dot

2010-11-29T22:11:00.001+08:00

A happy person is the one who always has what he/she needs. Not one who can always get what he/she wants.

Cliche, but for a valid reason.

I'm the happiest person....

2010-11-26T23:06:00.001+08:00

I love walking in the central business district area in a gloomy weather. For me, it always feels as if the place sucks the happiness out of the people who rush in and out the cold, fancy, soulless buildings. And since I'm a nobody, it can't suck the happiness out of me. I am the happiest person walking in a central business district area in a gloomy weather.

I'm an ostrich. A very cute ostrich.

2010-10-01T22:18:00.001+08:00

Testing this blogging app from phone. And holla...

today's inspiration....

2010-09-10T21:14:00.004+08:00

Some time in the near future, my butt will look like that. For the start, I’ve already bought the damn shoes. This advertising campaign is nasty. So, so nasty.

PS:

Better print and hang this poster on my wall pronto, just to remind myself when I wake up every morning that life will be more beautiful, work and singledom will be more bearable, and world will be a better place to live in if you own a fantastic butt.

the greatest

2010-09-05T14:34:00.004+08:00

Listening to Cat Power’s album ‘The Greatest’.

Makes me feel like packing my bag and going far far away, though in the middle of the rain, with nowhere in mind, and still feeling like I’m going to be okay.

Ohai world. I miss you.

skinny little bitch

2010-05-18T22:06:00.003+08:00

‘Skinny Little Bitch’ – Hole

“I’m fine being called a bitch as long as I’m skinny and little.” - a friend who shall remain anonymous.

Such a mercy brought by being skinny.

On a lighter note:

Hello world. Oh life’s been fine. My four years of life in NTU has been amassed in mere ten boxes of stuffs, a luggage, piles of dust, sweats here and there, and less than an hour of the process of relocating every bit and piece that has been with me throughout these years.

Moving out was easy. Moving on probably isn’t.

on new york and turning 21

2010-03-13T22:23:00.001+08:00

Flatron Building, New York

Everything does look better in New York.

Photo from Clarice

PS:

Will be back to the writing business after finishing the draft report. Trust me, I really miss those times I was still awake at 2am in the morning -having either a cup of chocolate, some crackers or cup noodles- and rattling on anything and whatnots and you would just patiently wait up and read.

Ah such the joy of being young.

On the lighter note, I’ve turned 21. Happy birthday to me. FML.

I was in World War 2 fighting Nazis...

2010-01-31T02:15:00.004+08:00

...that is just why this place was left abandoned.

Sorry.

Honestly I am too disoriented to realize that the year is already two fucking o ten. I mean, I can’t really remember what happened between 2000 and 2009. Did I graduate highschool in 2004 or 2006? Was tsunami in 2002 or 2007? When did I come to NTU? 2008? 2007? In fact, I can’t really remember which thing happened in what time between 1998 and 2009. Has it ever happened to you too?

This kind of thoughts, like, I don’t have any more vision of space and depth of time. I no longer have sense of chronological time. Not only that I can’t remember ‘what at when’, I also can’t tell how ‘one year ago’ differs with ‘three years ago’, or how ‘long time ago’ differs with ‘just recently’, or how ‘last seven months’ differs with ‘last two weeks’. They are all just the same for me: in the past. Past occurrences and occasions feel the same now. They came, left marks on a few spots on memory lane, and went. No fuss no frills. Heartache from five years ago now feels the same as if it was from two days ago, vice versa. Laughter from five minutes ago feels the same as if it was from yesterday, vice versa. In this dimension, time doesn’t heal. It has lost its depth…

…which can be kind of good, if I come to think about it again. Memory is just a dustbin of things from the past; time and date don’t matter. All the goods and the bads can be just thrown in and sealed. Old jokes do not lose their charms. Pains do not heal, they’re just forgotten, and hopefully for ever. If only I can recall them, they will still be as funny, or as hurting as they were.

Baffling as it is.

And when was World War 2 anyway? 1940’s? Last year? Fuck.

it's ok, i'm good

2009-10-18T01:03:00.001+08:00

Another good friend has just left the singleville.

Though I’m happy for her, it’s just sad to know that my position on someone’s priority list has been shifted down. Again. Not that I’ve been in anyone’s priority list in the first place, but still, you know…I am a second class friend now.

Now that everyone’s busy (with their boyfriends and/or other friends and/or stuffs), I must get myself used to dine alone, go to Sephora alone, hang out in café alone, and *insert all activities* alone; unless they suddenly feel like hanging out with me again (this actually has happened for quite some time).

And yea all that blablabla ‘you’re still a good friend of mine’ blablabla crap can’t buy me.

I suddenly fucking hate this all lovey dovey situation. I don’t hate them though.

PS:

Yes, I am just fucking jealous. Especially cos it seems like everyone’s playing behind my back. Oh yea I forgot, who am I for them to tell anyway.

it was clear, but probably wasn't

2009-10-15T21:41:00.001+08:00

I know she lied. Well, maybe she didn’t. But she clearly hid the truth.

I know she needed someone to talk to. Maybe she didn’t. But I clearly was a cunt.

No more phone call for near couples of days. Maybe I don’t need it. But I clearly just have lied.

i am a snail

2009-10-13T14:52:00.011+08:00

I am a snail.

PS:

Just want to test twitterfeed, fyi.

"

2009-10-12T02:11:00.002+08:00

Had a lovely dinner with good friends who are now an item.

No matter how I try to look at it, I guess love is indeed sweet.

love is sweet, love is blablabla...

2009-10-11T02:48:00.020+08:00

I started the day trying to work my ass off for the FYP progress report, but I ended up eating cup noodles in the middle of the night and falling in love. With a guy. See below.

Ricky Van Veen. Ok, he is not this cool all the time in real life, but pretty close. And he's got a pretty girlfriend. S.o.b.s.

I personally think he's a perfect image of Michael Moscovitz from The Princess Diaries series (yes I read these - talking about trace of now non-existent teenage-hood, and I know that the said guy is so going to kill me if he knows I compare him to one lead male character from a cheesy teenage-novel-turned-disney-movie. I mean, seriously, who isn't?).

Thanks for myself betraying the initially-strong allegiance to furnish all the works. I always do this. Fuck.

So anyway, actually I’ve been spending more time being ass-glued to the chair watching College Humor’s videos instead of doing what I should have been doing. It is a comedy website, but my favorite is their original videos, especially those from Hardly Working series. This series consists of short comedy clips played and written by their crews (writers, editors, including the mighty hot RVV the boss) acting as themselves, and were shot in their New York office.

So they are writers. They work in New York. And they do have cool sense of humor. Isn’t that fucking awesome??! I am seriously thinking that they probably have the best job in the world ever.

Honestly, other than RVV, I am in love with Patrick Cassels, too (the skinny, curly haired guy in the clip; the guy who says ‘whaaaaaaat?’ GEEEE isn’t he cute???!!). Talk about boys, I realize that I actually think that nerds are hot, so are the nerd-and-funny ones, and so are the ones who act gay (refer to RVV in the clip above). I remember last time I had a crush with this boy who worked on Ripcurl shop back in Palembang because he was wearing a singlet and he’s pretty hot, and he was checking me out. Then when I was on IA there was this guy who worked at the nearby eateries; he was cute and he always smiled all the time so I used to come back there to eat on the next….

(blablabla, the bottom lines are: a. there is just a very thin line between hot and not, b. I simply fall in and out of love all the times, no big deal)

PS:

This is probably the most gibberish post ever, but it probably is because I’m in love. You know, when you are falling in love, your IQ drops like 10 to 50 points, depending on the depth and consistency. It is true, as reported in Cosmopolitan May 2009 edition.

PPS:

I was tempted to create a new account at tumblr, because I saw someone’s tumblr page and the layout was awesome (just black and plain, but the color coordination was really nice). And I really did create an account. But afterwards when I tried to post something, I didn’t really like it anymore. It’s kind of less simple to use and I don’t like the font and the text editing; maybe because I’m still a noob. So no worries, seems like I’ll be sticking on here for long enough. But if you want to check out my tumblr page, it’s here.

PPPS:

I am still traumatized by the OT (not going to explain what this is) experience last time. I must keep on reminding myself that I am out of his reach, so I’m actually okay. I am okay. I just want to say to whomever it may concern: ‘Please redefine ‘high class’’.

PPPPS:

This is really the most gibberish post ever. My English teacher would really kill me for lack of informational value, clarity, depth and entertainment in this post. That, and also for the over abundance of postscripts and postpostspostpostscripts. I kinda like postscripts though. You see that I almost always have at least one in my post.

PPPPPS:

Those statements in PS, I lied.

PPPPPPS:

Please, for the sake of my sanity, don’t ask about how my progress report is doing.

PPPPPPPS:

Alright, this one’s just to piss whomever who dislike postscripts. Here’s my favorite quote by RVV from College Humor.

“Remember this, kid, heroes get remembered, but legends never die. Now, seriously, get the fuck out of my office.”

RVV

Seriously how could you not love that??

gay-haters: the quiz

2009-10-04T02:31:00.007+08:00

My quest to find good music on the net got me infuriated sometimes. It was the internet commenters. They probably have the most uneducated and misbehaving mouths on earth ever, which they themselves find so hard to keep shut.

Encountering youtube pages of some fantastic artists (the likes of Queen, Sliimy, La Roux, among others), it was irritating that instead of giving positive/reasonably critical/appropriate disapproving/polite comments, those bollocks were instead more interested to diss the sexual orientation of the said artists, which mostly are/were gays or bis.

Please tell me why I couldn’t be mad when Queen’s live performance of ‘Another Ones Bites the Dusts’ on youtube was commented by 98759289 (random number, fyi) freaky homophobes who seemed to be so amused to mock the sexual connotation behind white hotpants and scarf Mercury wore, instead of enjoying the great vocal.

All the times, I’ve been baffled by the ludicrous reasoning behind the attribution of sexual orientation on someone’s professional work. I mean, so what if Freddie Mercury did dudes? Did it change the fact that he was a superbly great, probably the best, vocalist of all times? Does being gay make Sliimy’s music less interesting to hear?

Thanks must also be extended to those religious freaks who have made the comment pages even juicier. Dude, please. So I got it, you’re not gay and you’re going to heaven. Good for you. But please save your preachers for somewhere else. We're listening to the music here. Church time is 9am Saturday, if I'm not wrong.

As much as I believe that any preference/choice in religion/sexual orientation/style/attitude is okay as long as it doesn’t harm anything/anyone, I still see that they are probably other reasons behind the deep hatred.

I’m a compassionate person; therefore I sacrifice some time to set a little quiz below to understand these gay haters’ rationales.

PS:

I don’t drink, but just assume that I was drunk when I was writing this. I still put this up anyway. Just to piss everyone off.

of the stockholm syndrome and ninety-eighty-four ride

2009-10-03T01:29:00.008+08:00

Being busy has turned me, a person, into this industrialist-capitalist-opportunist-like cute little mind. In between classes, laboratory sessions, finishing this and that and polishing here and there, and taking care of my future, I feel tired. I want to believe that this body is not a mere cog, but it turns out that it is. We’re back to ninety-eighty-four ride.

In some occasions lately I’ve told Jong so many times that I am probably, the victim of Stockholm syndrome, a very acute one. And even though to realize and admit such fact requires an overwhelmingly great effort, I don’t hate it, I appreciate. Though I hope the below story won’t come true.

***

If I were over a hundred years old, the scene here now would be me sitting hunchbacked, with every sign of failing botox treatments on the face, telling this story to grandchildren or whomever might care…

When I was young, I was always the kind of girl with big and plentiful of dreams. I wanted to be a journalist flying all over the place to get pieces to write. I wanted to go to New York and study fashion or history or art and never look back. I wanted to be able to sip fresh cappuccinos in Rome in daily basis. I wanted to spend lovely days in alfrescos having tapas and drinks and love and live. I wanted to sit on the lip of the Nile and enjoy youth as if I’d never grow old. And many other wants…

However someday, somehow, gravity and its cronies denied my dreams. I was pulled back to the earth and stuck to a place, let’s say a closet, for years. Dear, have I tried to escape. Many times, many ways. I didn’t succeed. In the period of denial, the spirit I had was the spirit I wish I still have now. I wanted to break free in every way possible, and I kept dreaming, and kept denying.

But these people, they treated me oh so well. How could you be not nice to those who were nice? Every spit I threw, they gave me smile. Big and wide. When I had tantrums, they pacified. You would think they loved you. Even I thought they loved me.

Then, what could you do? Your heart, it melted. You softened. You would let go. Of your dreams. You would succumb. You would smile back. You would love back. And you would stay. Did I stay.

The Stockholm syndrome. It killed. Your escape plans, your dreams. When you finally realized what happened, the moment of truth, you would have been inside the closet for too long. Your paws weakened, your teeth blunted, your vision blurred. It was already too late. Whether their smiles, their loves, their attentions were real or fake, it was already too late to care.

In the end, you realized. You didn’t have what you thought you had. You had never had what you thought you’d ever had. And one look from the corner of your eyes, two looks; you slowly launched one hand from the closet, reached the door, and slammed it closed.

Stockholm syndrome.

And you stayed inside, repeated their chants, you gave up, you loved back.

PS:

It has become harder to write. I don’t know if I’ve lost my sense and all. But there were some points of time in which I stopped and thought; maybe I should give up on this writer stuffs all together and get a proper boring life. And there were even more time in which I would have written pages and suddenly I’d stop, re-read, reflect, conclude ‘what the fuck’ and in the end, delete it all over. I hate such moments. It did feel like aborting an unborn handicapped child.

I am insane. I just want to be able to write again. Good ones.

PPS:

If you think this writing is so Palahniuk, you are right. Orwellianism works well with Palahniuk. Both men are geniuses. I’m the idiot one who can only imitate. Thus, thou shalt hast no mercy.

the september issue and other stories

2009-09-30T03:02:00.025+08:00

Actually I shouldn’t be too free this recess, but apparently that’s all I've been so far. It is nice, though, to be able to enjoy days with friends; just go out and have a lovely dinner and chat.

Anyway I watched ‘The September Issue’ with Sonson yesterday. If you’re a facebook friend, you’d know that I’d been in a desperate want to watch the movie since I posted the trailer a couple of weeks ago. The movie is a documentary about the making of American Vogue’s 2007 September issue. And man after I watched it myself, was it amazeballs! I mean, I know Anna (Wintour, editor-in-chief of American Vogue) is the queen of fashion and such accolades alike have been very oftenly attributed to her, but I didn’t know that she is THAT important. That important so that even Stefano Pilati, Jean Paul Gaultier, and Christian Lacroix did consult her whether or not to include a piece in their upcoming shows. That important that she was the important figure who launched the already shining Thakoon (Panichgul, American-based Thailand designer, internationally famous for styling Michelle Obama on the evening Barrack Obama accepted 2008 Democratic nomination for president) to fashion stardom.

However, I didn’t quite agree that the trailer and many reviews are more focused on Anna and Anna alone. Sure as hell that most people do not know anyone else in Vogue other than Anna, but still I think the most interesting side of the movie is Anna’s relationship with Grace Coddington, creative director as well as a senior stylist in Vogue. Grace just has a few cuts in the trailer even thought she easily makes the second star in the movie.

Grace, apparently, seems like the only person who can crazily argue, challenge, and (though in a more backstreet manner) go against Anna. I can totally see that the dynamic between these two is the powerful turbine behind Vogue. Some publications mentioned Anna and Grace as the fashion’s Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, and I can see where such comparison comes from. Imagine how boring it is if Anna’s always right (she is, most of the time), but Grace sometimes would have a way to sneak out of the tyrant’s order. I think she outshined Anna here. It also helps to know that most of the fashion photo spreads for that issue were under Grace’s stylings. And I love them! Grace’s a really great, great fashion stylist.

On the other note, I’ve been reading Richard Dawkins’ ‘The God Delusion’. I was so excited to read this book initially, but the spirit goes down, thanks to lack of leisure time lately. I try to read it on and off but it feels different as I keep losing the thread. My verdict so far is that actually, I’m the kind of reader/atheist that Dawkins would hate. The kind who would say ‘I’m an atheist, but…’.

The truth is, I personally won’t despise those who choose to believe in God and religions. Even though the existences of such are logically questionable, I can understand that the beliefs provide hopes for those who need it, and for those who can’t walk well enough by themselves in life, guides. I’ve been trying to disassociate myself with religions and beliefs, but majority of people prefer not to. It’s just a matter of choice.

So just to piss Dawkins off out of fun, I’m an atheist, but I respect choices as long as people of different choices and preferences do not start dissing each other. (Honestly, I’m trying very hard not to comment on the Einstein’s video some people have posted on facebook. The video depicts the young Einstein arguing with his atheist teacher on the existence of God. The end shows the teacher left speechless with the genius boy’s explanation that leads to the indication that God does indeed exist. This is a hoax, for sure, as Einstein was a pantheist. He didn’t believe in personal God.)

Dawkins is too militant in my opinion, but if I try to put myself on his shoes, I think I can understand why. Afterall, he is a scientist; a biologist, no less. I shall pass further verdict until I finish reading it.

Speaking of books, I’ve managed to catch a good bargain of Joseph Heller’s ‘Catch 22’. My most favorite book ever! I bought it for only 14 bucks at Bras Basah last time. I’m hoping to be able to re-read this book without putting it down, but it seems to be impossible at these times. Oh gee, I miss the quirky Yossarian and Major Major Major Major!

PS:

I’m on twitter too now. You can follow me here.

I think twitter is more fun than facebook. I’ve just had a few people on my friend list and they all know me well, so I can use any swearwords as I like without worrying that ‘some people’ (including prospective boss) would mind it. And I can update my status (or in the new twitter dictionary, tweet) very oftenly, every now and then, and nobody gives a damn (well sometimes someone does). I can even tweet to my favorite celebrities!! How amazeballs is it, you think!?!

But still above all, I love this blog better. Though I’m not writing everything day in day out, this is still my most private place (and I’d like to keep it humble with only a few readers). Albeit still, it’s more fun and easier to just jab 140 characters than writing a long winded post. Like this.

I’m off.

i suck, what the fuck

2009-09-28T02:12:00.002+08:00

Me equals being a big fail as a girl. Shoot, why I was (or am) so heartless when he had already tried, and I ended up reading Dawkin’s all the way back to dorm with 95% awkward silence. What the fuck was I doing?

Couldn’t I just pretend I had a great time? And why, above anything/one else, was I thinking about you? Is it romance or is it just because I know that you’d always make me feel better and safer at such moments, and above all, are just better than him? And yeah fuck you I texted you out of boredom and you didn’t reply. I thought we’ve understood each other? Each of us is the escape route of another? To have thought that I missed you in another sense of ‘missing’ is enough to make me shudder.

I hate myself. Well I probably should not. Think it was just a matter of chemistry, or rather, lack of thereof. Gee, I’m hard to please.

There I said it all.

PS:

First post after month(s) and is a drama already. Sorry I can’t help it. I hope you all know well I’ve succumbed to endless deadlines. Am here just because this week is recess week and my heart urges me to scream out.

PPS:

You’ll never see any post like this ever again here. Well, I hope you and I won’t.

this is friday morning

2009-08-21T01:21:00.003+08:00

Ok, seriously, how can you keep on being mentally monogamous all of your life? I admit even though I refuse to be one, I am indeed a very loyal person. If I’ve found something good for me, most likely I will stick with that thing for as long as possible; just because I’m lazy. But does my heart really stick there through all the time?

I doubt so.

Therefore a man (ok, the word ‘man’ is just to represent an individual human being in general as using the word ‘a girl’, ‘a person’, or ‘a lady’ etc sounds blunt) who can set his foot and heart at one place for as long as ever is an extraordinary man. A super human.

(I should have had a lot of arguments and points for backing this up, but let’s make it an unwritten story for another day.)

PS:

Random thought.

PPS:

Yes, yes, yes. I do think you are cute and all and I totally have no idea why people think it’s funny. It IS funny, but in another sense of humor ;) I’ll just laugh and go with the flow and leave you alone at the end of the day. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hunt you down. If you’re cool you will just sit back and enjoy the game.

i love the big brother

2009-08-15T02:50:00.003+08:00

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you will be trapped in the love and hate relationship with the Big Brother (let’s not discuss what or who is the Big Brother here; I assume you understand the analogy). When he fucks you up, you’ll hate him, despise him. But your lives hang on him so you are a deserter, the victims of doublethink. You praise him in the mornings and draw moustache on his face at nights. You really want to hate him, you can’t. When you hate him the most, he will pacify you. He often serves you well, too well, and you’ll forget all the shits he has thrown at you. You’ll wake up in the morning afresh with total devotion. You succumb to his power and mercy. You forgive and forget.

PS:

Diary of an atheism freshman:

It’s hard not to refer to ‘God’ anymore after had been living practically all my life having faith of His presence. Simple tasks like expressing shock (‘oh my god’/masyaoloh) or thankfulness (‘thanks god’) become awkward, as I find it hard to find equivalent lines which would deliver the exact same expression. Also when people ask you to show your condolence/sympathy through a prayer, I wonder what I should do. While everybody else is praying hard, should I pretend to pray as well, or should I just stand idly –which would lead to automatically looking at other people's serious praying faces?? (I have done both and neither was comfortable). I will need to find good book which tells about this.

PPS:

I’m still in Ninety Eighty-Four mood. Newspeak is pretty cool. George Orwell is a genius; I need to re-read the book soon.

early august

2009-08-14T02:06:00.003+08:00

Despite the horrible fact that this blog has not been updated for months (it’s been officially more than one month since the last post now), you should have thanked me.

This passing month was horrible. There was the equivalent of 30,000-feet plunge down to the deepest dark place of don’t-know-where; it broke all my bones and flamed chaos at heart, and fate was on its most evilish state. You should thank me that, instead of churning out mischievous swearwords and blasphemies here, I chose to write it down on some notes and keep it for myself. I thank my intuition; some things are better kept unsaid.

One month updates in point form:

- I’ve finished my internship.

It was really touching that my seniors were so dear and arranged not one, but two farewell lunches for me and another student intern. I will surely miss every moment in Arup, in fact I have. I keep on comparing how fun lurking around in office was as opposed to sitting down in a lecture theatre listening to the boring lectures. And ah, I’ll sure miss Mr. Number 1, Mr. Number 2 and Mr. Number 3. My days were brighter with them in sight.

- I’m an atheist.

Turmoil has got me believe that if God does exist, He should have helped me out. He didn’t. During the worst down, I spent days cursing God. It was so bad, I started to think I’d be going to hell the very next moment I started saying the word f. Therefore to prevent further blasphemy and blablabla, it’s better to assume that He, whoever it is, doesn’t exist at all. It doesn’t matter; I’m going to hell anyway.

- I went back to Palembang.

Just for a six fucking short days. First day doesn’t count; it was a night flight, so in total there were just five days. Thanks to sore throat + flu + fever, I didn’t manage to satisfy my taste buds with longed local delicacies. Fucking awesome. And I probably can’t go back Palembang on December. Eff.

- I’m joining GTD 11.

Again. I think I’m already too old for this kind of thing. I hated my involvement in GTD initially. I hated doing my job (preparing decorations). I hated that I had to do the performance; I sulked like a bitch one day. Only after seeing how supportive my teammates were, how everybody loved our crystals/decors, and how enthusiastic everybody else was today (first day), I think this is maybe not so bad.

- I’m in final year and will be doing (or for the argument’s sake, am doing) final year project.

Can’t say much, haven’t done anything for it yet, as I’m still busy with GTD. School’s okay so far, it’s just that I ain’t used to lectures and tutorials anymore.

- I get a hall, and it’s hall 3.

This is really fucking awesome, I’ve finally got lucky. I love my new room. The block is quite hidden in the corner. The room has terrace facing the greeneries. The room is high up so the scenery from the window is pretty cool (other halls though). My roommate’s okay so far. I can’t expect more.

- I have finished some books.

Picture of Dorian Gray, Catch-22, Nineteen Eighty-Four and Haunted. Don’t think I’ll manage to write reviews though, but Catch-22 surely makes it to my favorite list. Chuck Palahniuk (writer of Haunted) managed to make me think that I had never read anything as sick. The rest are pretty cool but just so-so.

- I manage to get into the good-girl list again.

Even though still, I’ll be going to hell, the commemoration paper doesn’t help a shit.

- I’m still poor.

Poverty loves me. I fucking hate it.

of the rock and the roll

2009-07-07T01:16:00.010+08:00

It was the cryings of the audience, or the states of near trance, maybe the screamings and shoutings; the dancings. And there were the drunks, the highs, the troublemakers, the peace lovers, preggers, men, women in any color, any race.

And a man, on the stage. Spotlight illuminated the skinny familiar silhouette with bellbottom and the mullet. The camera captured the scene like crazy: psychedelic, colorful, energetic. He was Mick Jagger, the band was The Rolling Stones. And the scene could have taken place at everywhere: from London to Altamont, it could have been peaceful or chaotic, but all could be condensed into one word: magical.

The scene graced my vision like nothing had ever done before. It was whimsical, surreal, yet so real and so close. It was a scene from 'Tonite Let’s All Make Love in London'.

I’ve heard a lot about the telltales left behind the scene –of every scene in which the bands were involved: the local groupies would be lurking behind the backstage seductively, playing Penny Lane; or they would be back in the hotel room, preparing themselves in what would equal to Agent Provocateur today. Later at the dawn or at random time on the day, best songs were made during acid or cocaine high. Sky was the limit for them rockstars, and some of the best of them would die at 27; which really didn’t matter because they’d had it all during their lives by then; fast track tickets to hell, no refund, were safe in their pockets.

At some points down the age thus far, I would like to curse life and demand answer on the question of why I was born way too late. I could have fitted so well to the flower power slash love generation era. I could have had the style and the look, and most importantly, I definitely could have got the attitude. Damn, I could have been at Monterey and Woodstocks and wouldn’t mind being thrown out of stage while trying to plant a kiss on Mick Jagger’s face (I personally prefer Charlie Watts though, but he’s got a wife and he’s very much monogamous; and anyway young Mick was kind of cute).

It didn’t require me to be a fan of any to enjoy the spirit and messages conveyed by the bands of 60’s/70’s. It was the spirit, the love, the rebellious attitude towards the establishment, the honest –maybe naïve- ambition to just have girls and money, and above all it was just the music! It was honest and unpretentious, and space-less. Everyone was invited.

It would never be the same now. There will always be space in between stage and audiences; recordings do sound better but the sound of the music isn’t; producers embrace music lovers as cash cows; originality dies and repetitive money-making patterns start to destroy creativity; songs and music are written, not sung and played; dances were perfectly choreographed, not danced; music and art are parts of entertainment, not life; and as people become smarter and more idealist, the naivety gone and pretentiousness arises.

We’re born in the era so smart, so stiff that we’re no longer easily swayed and mobilized by change. We don’t dare to leave the comfort zone, oh we do love establishment a lot; in fact we build it and enslave ourselves to it….

Oh well, I digress, I’d better stop playing the ‘Fight Club’. Maybe I’m just too young. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t had to trade my converse to leather loafer and skinny jeans to khakis.

But above all, maybe I’ve just got too amused over something I believe was there. Maybe I’ve just missed something I’ve never had.

PS:

I should have posted this from weeks ago. It was fruition of watching two documentaries at National Museum two weeks ago.

PPS:

In the week when MJ died, I read New York Times everyday just to read testimonials from people around the globe on how MJ’s music had been integral part of their lives. They were really touching. I nearly cried many times. He was a great man. A very. Godspeed and may you rest in peace, MJ.

PPPS:

Have you watched Franz Ferdinand’s video, ‘Can’t Stop Feeling’? It certainly isn’t the most favorite song of their album, but the video is totally awesome and hilarious. Reminds me why I love Franz in the first place. It was (and still is) because they’re not afraid to just have fun while making and playing their music. You can feel!

Franz Ferdinand - Can't Stop Feeling

morning glory

2009-06-26T08:29:00.001+08:00

Thanks for making my morning Mr. Twenty-Something-Cute-Preppy-Guy In-MRT, Mr. Number 1, Mr. Number 2 and Mr. Number 3.
Ah boys, boys, boys (or should I say man, man, man?). How do we not love them?!

PS:

Fucking awesome, I won’t make it to the Gaga. Thanks to GTD. Thanks to myself being a responsible biatch.

PPS:

Michael Jackson passed away today. My condolence goes to him and his families and friends. He was a legend and would always be.

Farah Fawcett passed away today, too, after battling years with cancer. She was one of the original Charlie’s Angles. Farah was just about to get married with her boyfriend of 20-years. She would never walk the aisle but I bet she died happily and peacefully. Rest in peace.

2009-06-22T23:07:00.005+08:00

I was so mad and sad and scared today I sat on the train holding tears and writing hate letter to no one and everyone, just to make time went faster. Walked slowly, sat on the bus, I got home, cried in the cubicle and cooked and felt better. Maybe I was just hungry. I need to bounce back from this rock bottom. For goodness’ sake all of this shit is beyond funny. Not even funny AT ALL. Maybe it’s karma.

between spanish omelette and tuna casserole

2009-06-21T04:38:00.008+08:00

Berlina is cooking.

No it wasn’t typo. I am really planning to cook for this whole week (and weeks to come probably). As to prove my persistence, I’ve bought this recipe book, ‘The Credit Crunch Cookbook’, which I bought because I thought:

The cover was so cute (see above), I just couldn’t resist.
The title corresponded very well to my current financial condition.
Recipes were written as if the dishes were ‘really’ easy to make (while after better reading, they actually not really are, and some spices and herbs don’t ring my bell).
I was in a good mood.

This whole shit is actually really scary. In my whole life I had never thought that I would be doing the stuffs below altogether:

Thinking and planning to cook. As in serious ‘cook’. Instant noodles and pastas and Campbell soups don’t count.
Buying a cookbook for myself to cook.
Sitting down, religiously googling names of spices, herbs and foods on the net.
Planning menus for next week and actually noting down the ingredients and cooking suggestions for all of those recipes.
Frugally budgeting and amending the menus to cater to the tight budget; noting down prices of different labels of each ingredient in order to make it easy to pick the cheapest ones. Using calculator. At 4am in the morning.
And above all, enjoying the whole process.

But matter-of-factly what I did was:

Thinking and planning to cook. As in serious ‘cook’. Instant noodles and pastas and Campbell soups don’t count.
Buying a cookbook for myself to cook.
Sitting down, religiously googling names of spices, herbs and foods on the net.
Planning menus for next week and actually noting down the ingredients and cooking suggestions for all of those recipes.
Frugally budgeting and amending the menus to cater to the tight budget, noting down prices of different labels of each ingredient in order to make it easy to pick the cheapest ones. Using calculator. At 4am in the morning.
And above all, enjoying the whole process.

FML.

It’s amazing what poverty could have done to you, yes? I’ve been surviving these 20-days of poverty (days went so fast, God’s mercy) by sandwich (wholegrain bread, ham, cheese, mayo, tons of lettuce) mostly, and pasta bolognese. They were tasty and healthy –and filling, but seriously, I couldn’t stand eating those forever until the day when money drops onto my head. Hence all the cooking stuff.

It’s actually pretty funny because I don’t even have proper cooking utensils. I don’t even have a knife, nevermind the saucepan and all others. At this time, I must be really grateful to have a housewife-y roommate who has provided me access to all her cooking utensils without which I couldn’t survive.

So for next week, the menus would mostly consist of rice, pasta, tuna, potato, and egg, and vegetables. You’d be surprised by how creative I am in giving posh names to foods. You’ll hear later, tee hee.

PS:

Isn’t it strange that suddenly a guy popped up in front of you and blablabla asked for your telephone number? I mean in US and Europe, it’s a very common thing; but in Asia?? This was just the second time for me so I still thought it was quite strange. I was in pageone. He was quite cute, though. But sure I didn’t give him mine. Because when someone did that (asking for a stranger's telephone number, in Asia, talk about conservative eastern culture blablabla), I couldn’t help but to think that he:

was trying to sell something later on, and insurance agent maybe,
was a pimp, omgoodness,
was desperate to get laid, or
was a porn movie producer who spotted a talent (read: me, fml)!

But in fact, if he genuinely wanted to make a friend, he’s sure got guts; and it was a very positive and ‘gentleman’ thing to do. However to be conservative, I’d prefer to believe the fourth option. It, actually, is quite a compliment to consider me as a talent.

resilient modulus test, moisture susceptibility, and LADY GAGA COMING TO SINGAPORE!!

2009-06-16T23:42:00.008+08:00

So in the midst of assignment avalanche (in office, ECA, and school altogether) I’m posting this post. This URECA research paper really mindfucks me to the max. Tomorrow’s deadline, and it’s like, uhm, in less than 30 minutes? Ok I can push it until Friday the latest, but the sooner I get over this, the better. Franz Ferdinand and Lady Gaga on iTunes are team berlina tonight. Hopefully I can reach the finishing sentence by the dawn (yea I’ll be staying awake booo).

Meanwhile just want to spread the news that LADY GAGA’S COMING TO SINGAPORE FOR A FULL CONCERT ON 12^th AUGUST!!!!!!!!!! Pre-sales ticket will be selling at S$75, free entrance to Zouk inclusive. I’m sooooo buying the ticket once it hits SISTIC (read: have to survive by sandwich diet until August). I’m assuming Arctic Monkeys, and really anticipating Franz Ferdinand having gigs in Singapore as well. So far no hearsays about someone will be bringing them here. For goodness’ sake, Franz hit Japan and Australia, why the hell wouldn’t somebody catch their feet and drag them to Singapore?? I’m totally pissed. For Arctic, I’m think we all must wait until next year to see if they’ll be having Asia tour. Their new album will only hit music stores on mid August.

PS:

Sorry for the ‘Courtney Love’-ish post. Must. Back. To. Paper.

PPS, update @1.20am:

Woe is me. I’m not gonna stay up until dawn. This paper’s for tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. Friday’s the latest. If they really want the paper pronto, they’ll get one in shitty quality. Darn I don’t even know what I wrote. I need Midas touch!!

panton et al

2009-06-14T15:40:00.026+08:00

I’m brightly optimistic about this whole days-at-the-museum stuff. Even though delayed by the lazy body clock (I never wake up before 12.30 on weekends), I eventually managed to drag not only myself, but also Suryani and Lukas down along, to National Museum of Singapore for Verner Panton’s exhibition yesterday. T’was fun!

***

Honest, it was a very fantastic exhibition of Verner Panton’s works. Verner Panton was an ultra-modern Danish furniture and interior designer. I understand that he had tricked the then unspoken rules of Danish furniture-making by creating mass products, and moreover, made of plastics and steels. In this case, imagine Henry Ford and his assembly line circa 1900's; or IKEA nowadays. Along the way, Panton had successfully caved himself a comfortable niche in the worldwide pop art movement. His style is distinctive; his works are bold, colorful, experimental, and most importantly, fun!

I reckon my first encounter with Panton happened via Spice Girls. They once posed on Panton’s ‘Living Tower’ and I remember the first time I saw the photo I thought, ‘What a chair!’. That very same line was screamed many times yesterday during the exhibition.

Photos for your viewing pleasure, as they speak a thousand words:

The entrance.

A photograph of colorful 'flower pot' lamps welcoming us at the entrance.

Touche, Mr. Panton.

'Karisruhe', Panton's architectural design for 1970 urban planning competition.

'Dralon' cluster seating system. It must be fun sitting on one of those.

Orange 'cone chair'.

'Cone chairs', the orange one is a bar stool.

'Acrylglas' chair.

'Trumpet chair'.

Me in the 'topan pendant' lamp.

'Modular chair'.

'Wire chairs' with the popular 'geometri' carpet.

'Heart cone chair'. Super stylish.

Another 'heart cone chair'.

'Wire chairs' + 'peacock chair' + 'geometri'.

Orange 'peacock chair' with 'geometri'.

Array of 'cone chairs'.

'Wire series' and 'panthella' lamp.

'Wire series.'

More 'wire' installation.

'Wire lamps'.

'Pantonova' chair.

More 'pantonova' chair.

Sketch of 'pantonova' chair.

Interior of Varna Restaurant, designed by Panton.

The fabulous ‘Phantasy Landscape’. This photo is from the net as photography wasn’t allowed inside the landscape, but it was totally like this. We had a great time sitting, lying, climbing and crawling inside it and nobody wanted to be the first to go out. Seriously, even if you’re really not interested with the rest of the stuffs, this installation is one thing that you have to go for!

'Panton chairs'.

More chairs...

...and more with different pose.

'S chair'.

Nice tricks. Kids shouldn't try this at home though.

Lukas on 'Panton chair'.

Suryani on 'Panton chair'.

'Kill Modular Furnishing System'. Reminds me of artworks made of match boxes we used to make back then in primary school.

Verner Panton and wife at their eclectic house.

'Collection decor, design quadrant' starts the array of colorful fabrics.

'Collection Linea, design zwiebel'.

'Collection decor, design kurve'.

'Collection decor, design streifen.'

'Collection decor, design welle'.

System furniture consists of lamps.

The famous 'fun lamp'. I believe I saw this at my grandma's house.

It actually looks pretty classic.

'Tommy Lund chair/Vilbert' in between.

The ethereal-looking 'flower pot' lamps.

Variation of 'Storz & Palmer seating', 'fun lamp', 'aluminium fun lamp', and 'VP Globe' lamp.

The cute 'VP Globe' lamp. These lamps were used in many interiors designed by Panton.

'Aluminium fun lamp', which I think is more modern than the original white 'fun lamp'.

‘Luminous Ring Wall Element’. Install this at your home entrance if you want to make a statement. Just like what Panton did at his own house.

‘Spiral lamp’, ‘wonder lamp’, and red hot ‘Living Tower’ behind. I totally saw photo of Spice Girls posing on the purple one several years ago. T’was my first encounter with Panton I suppose.

'Spiral lamp'.

'Wonder lamp'.

What a playful set of sofa! Panton had this at his own house.

Guess what it is….It’s a boombox! I didn’t realize it until Lukas pointed it out and I saw the buttons and cable. Darn, forget iPod, I want this.

‘Schoner Wohnen living unit’. I won’t mind NTU triple sharing room if they have these instead of the hideous double decker beds.

I so dig the first sentence.

The fantabulous 'flying' chairs and 'mirror sculptures' behind it. Someday I'd like to have my room looking like this.

‘Panto pop’ chair and table. Lukas and Suryani thought it was cute. I said it was cute, like a cute dog bowl.

'Visiona rocking chair'. I bet it would make you feel as if sitting on a purple moon. Awfully romantic.

And finally, LET'S WE ALL GO AND WATCH THESE!!!!!!!!

***

This was then followed by visiting IT Fair, dinner at Aston Specialties, and the usual stomach-aching jokes all the way back to hostel, before we called it a night.

PS:

I watched the Oscar winning ‘Milk’ today: a totally great movie, maybe the best I've watched in the year so far. I shall write about this movie soon. I watched ‘Kambing Jantan’ too. It was boring, and didn’t make me laugh/cry/shed any emotion at all. Blah, the book’s farrrrrrrrrrrr better.

of trying to live a civilized, rock n roll yet (soon) roofless life

2009-06-13T00:40:00.014+08:00

Okay, so I’ve officially been a fan of National Museum of Singapore. I was first caught in an affair last week at Lacroix’s exhibition. Now I find myself planning to go there again tomorrow. Tomorrow’s for Verner Panton’s exhibition (the iconic Panton chair, ring a bell?). Free admission for students, no damage; this is really a benefit I must enjoy to the max especially now that I’m in final year. At this point, I must have completely abandoned the fact that I have to wrap up the draft of my URECA research paper due this Sunday (which of course by now is nowhere near finishing except for introduction part; come on you know me). That doesn’t matter, though.

The thing that matters is that I mistakenly bought two tickets for Gimme Shelter, a documentary about Rolling Stone’s tragic concert at Altamont Speedway on 6 December 1969. The documentary is a part of four documentaries on show during National Museum’s ‘All Yesterday Parties: Rockers, Mods and other Oddities’ cinematheque event, 27-28 June.

I’d contemplated for days before I finally decided to purchase the ticket and go alone; since the possibility that any of my friends would like to watch this (especially that it’s not free) is nearing zero. No, it actually IS really zero. Exception is for Naldo whose ass, unfortunately, will be in Jakarta by then.

Nevertheless the prospect of meeting some cute/hot guys with same interest in rock culture made me think no longer. I’ve impulsively also purchased a ticket for another documentary Tonite Let’s All Make Love in London, which is described as compilation of rare footages of concerts by The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett. What appeals me most is the preceding Peter Whitehead’s music promo for Rolling Stones.

Unfamiliar names on the descriptions of these documentaries (that I don’t mention here because I don’t know them) remind me to the fact that my knowledge about 60’s/70’s music culture and its whatnots is dwarf in comparison to whatever the rest that I don’t know. Yet I’m still so thrilled to watch these musicians pulling out their 60’s/70’s rockers at best on stages.

Actually, only second to the roaring twenties, sixties to seventies are the years that I yearn the most to have lived in. I mean, which young’ns wouldn’t be fascinated by the whole love generation movement? By rock n roll, bands, and their groupies? By their mod, pop culture and fashion? By the hippie bohemian style (which made a comeback and was very catwalk hip back then in early 2000’s)? Come on, your subconscious minds can’t lie; I know you still have those infamous bell bottom pants somewhere hidden in your closet! And those flower print shirts, too!

So anyway, all this days-at-the-museum stuff is in fact a way for me to force myself to go out and ‘soak up the sun’ more often, instead of gluing myself in chair watching endless series and turning into a lazy couch potato; though in the midst of personal financial crisis. But right now I’m torn up between going out and have fun versus staying at room, savoring my last days staying here. Yes I’m homeless again next semester, fml. Fate hath no mercy.

PS:

Below are the documentaries on show and their respective brief descriptions that I've managed to sum up from the official site and imdb. All will be at National Museum of Singapore’s Gallery Theatre. Ticket can be purchased at 8 bucks, but only 6.4 for students; booking fee exclusive.

Monterey Pop (1968)
Dir: D.A. Pennebaker
Saturday, 27 June, 2pm
California met the Summer of Love! Predecessor of Woodstock. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Otis Redding were on the lineup!

Gimme Shelter (1970)
Dir: Albert & David Maysles, Charlotte Zwerin
Saturday, 27 June, 4pm
Rolling Stones free concert at Altamont Speedway on 6 December 1969 ended tragically. See the non-loving side of the Love Generation.

Tonite Let’s All Make Love in London (1967) preceded by The Rolling Stones Music Promo
Dir: Peter Whitehead
Sunday, 28 June, 2pm
London’s Mod scene, revisited by appearances of Who’s Who, The Rolling Stones, and Pink Floyd among many others.

Wonderwall (1968)
Dir: Joe Massot
Sunday, 28 June, 4pm
One rare chance to witness the acting of the actress whose name is immortalized in the most expensive bag on earth, the Birkin bag. Yes, the legendary la boheme Jane Birkin’s here!

Let me know if any of you are going (MEH, I know no one of you will be going, am just asking for courtesy).

PPS:

But seriously if any of you guys are going, I have one spare ticket for ‘Gimme Shelter’. Stupidly placed two tickets in my Sistic shopping cart and didn’t realize it until they’ve deducted my debit card. I am broke and have been trying to survive 5 days by only 20 bucks while one ticket costs me 7.5. FML

lacroix et al

2009-06-09T01:00:00.034+08:00

Sunday was a great day. I finally managed to drag myself down from the bed, got dressed, and killed the plan. So Sunday happened to be the last day of ‘Christian Lacroix – The Costumier’ exhibition at National Museum of Singapore. I had already planned to squeeze it in my agenda since looong time ago; but then the plan rotted and all went pete tong until a colleague in office blast a mass email to remind us that free entrance would be granted during last three days (I could always get free admission thought, bonus privilege of being student in Singapore).

***

Imagine how magical it is to have one, two, three, no, more than that, colorful tutus flying above your head; swinging, twirling, dancing gallantly as in reviving the poise of invisible ballet dancers. And I didn’t even try to belittle the word ‘colorful’ here. There were fushcias, greens, tangerines, yellows, goldens, and motifs in the air! Transparent wires played dancers.

That really how magical Christian Lacroix – The Costumier was. The exhibition set as the commemoration of Lacroix’s works as a costumier of some famous operas like C’est la vie, Carmen, Eliogabalo, Cosi fan tutte, Othello, Les Arts Florissants, and Romeo et Juliette, among many others. Lacroix has set a foot on fashion industry so well, he’s ready to be crowned legendary. His prêt a porter collections are not among the trendiest, but remain sought after; his haute couture creations stand strong through the roughest of times.

I wasn’t particularly a fan of Lacroix, and you and I are just as blind about operas. Lacroix’s haute couture collections have remained my least favorite for seasons, even though fashion editorials worldwide would have applauded his couture and they would never lack of being wanted. There was something about his signature style of exotic mix of rich colors and materials that spare me from his fans.

His couture creations would always be too costume-ish: bold color palettes and dyes, patterns including his favorite black and white vertical stripes (I can never forget the image of Becca Cason Thrash wearing Lacroix’s bolero jacket and ballgown skirt in this dashingly comical black and white vertical stripe, topped with red satin belt). Or if not colors, it would be the texture; always elaborate with mix of exotic materials like ostrich, fur, tulle, and lace to texturize. In short, always whimsical, even though many times I couldn’t resist that some picks were really to die for.

This characteristic of style then came as Lacroix’s and operas’ advantage, as in stage the more the merrier. Costume-ish is good because that basically what all the clothes are. It makes quite a good sense then if Lacroix is considered as a grand costumier. He has practically broken the back of opera costumes. Imagine those colorful tutus on stage, or the maid’s costume, the flower girl’s, Carmen’s, or everyone else’s that he has created for. Knowing that textures were too aloof to be seen from stage, he then played with shapes. Who wouldn’t admire those awe-inducing crisp pleats in Carmen’s? Or that extravagantly blown-up silver ballgown?

All of those color feast and eye-shocking constructions are enough to drop every audience’s jaw and give a totally different visual experience, as all the while we’ve just been familiar with the classic white or soft-hued ballet costumes, earth colored gowns and coats, rotten laced ball gowns, or whatever that associates the opera-blinds with the plays on stage.

NB:

Forgive the shitty quality of photos. I’m clearly not anywhere near good at photography.

Me and partner-in-crime of the day, Suryani, at the entrance.

Arrays of amazing sketches.

The maid costume is just plain gorgeous. You should see the real clothes, it was just as gorgeous.

Make this in white, and I'll call it my wedding dress.

How he could create such pleats remains a mistery for me.

Cute Nutcraker costume.

From here, the magical tutus were born!

Cute-sy Japanese-sy.

Bella!

One pretty darn good bustier. I'll call it my wedding dress too.

Beautiful dyes.

They're dancing above your head.

Extravagant ball gown. I wonder if the actress could walk through any door on it.

This one's very Lacroix. Mix of rich colors and materials.

I love this red one.

If I were an actress, I would like to wear that tutu on the far right to Oscar.

The pink skirt is to die for.

***

On the lighter note:

PS:

Arctic Monkeys' latest album will be out some time in mid August. Tracks’ listing has been out, but the album title is still yet to be known. For goodness sake they’d better be as good this time. Hopefully they’ll be planning to hit Singapore anytime soon after the release. Cross fingers.

Anyway, I’ve just listened to Ok Go’s latest single for Banana Republic, and I still can’t really make up my mind on my opinion about the song. It’s ‘Skyscraper’. The first time I heard it, I thought ‘oh fuck, have they been spending all these years in a depression clinic or what??’. It is musically gloomy, as if it would bring you into the realm of depression. It gets quite catchy towards the intro though, and I reckon it would make quite a good soundtrack for an advertisement.

I mean, many other bands do sound depressive like that, but not Ok Go. Even their sad songs didn’t usually sound like that. And when I jumped to another single, ‘Gigantic’, I was furious because it sounded almost as depressive. I just found out later that it's a cover version of Kim Deal’s song. I assumed the original song has already sounded depressive.

I’ve been playing these songs for a couple of times now and I think I kind of like ‘Skyscraper’ (or try to, I’m biased in their favor). However conservatively, let’s assume that their next album won’t sound all similar to this.

PPS:

‘Coco Avant Chanel’ for your viewing pleasure.

I am amused by how Audrey Tautou looks almost exactly like Coco Chanel herself here. Karl Lagerfeld, the Kaiser himself supervised the selection of costumes for this movie; and I totally saw that iconic spiral staircase from Chanel's 31 Rue Cambon atelier!

This should be one hell of a good fashion movie, but sadly there’s still no news about this movie hitting Singapore cinemas so far.

Gabriel ‘Coco’ Chanel was a great woman; one of few fashion designers whose other than creations, the character I admire; you can see that I quote her excessively. Her outspoken, witty, yet liberated manners really inspire. I totally can’t wait. Do we need to sign petition to movie distributors here?

life is...err...hasn't been good yet

2009-06-04T17:07:00.008+08:00

Life is good when you can just fly to Vegas, put on a nice virginal-looking yet kinky white dress, get drunk in a party, non-soberly rent a limo and get married to a crazy-sexy-beautiful guy at Little White Chapel’s drive through, wake up early in the morning in a hotel room screaming ‘oh fuck’ upon seeing the result of last night’s mischievous incident, file divorce or marriage annulment -but still keep a very very good relationship with the said crazy-sexy-beautiful then-husband, and live happily ever after as if nothing has ever happened.

Repeat cycle to different crazy-sexy-beautiful guy at different iconic location each time.

PS:

Talk about living a boring life.

PPS:

Anyway have you heard The Pretty Reckless and The Filthy Youth? The first is Taylor Momsen’s band and the latter is Ed Westwick’s. If you haven’t, you should now! They rock my day. And Leighton Meester sings a great rendition of ‘Bette Davis Eyes’ (wayyy better than Gwyneth's version last time, sorry Gwyn). Go gossip girls/boys; let the world be devoured by enviousness over the redundant amount of beauty, fame, and talent you have!

PPPS:

As much as I love Franz Ferdinand, I still don’t get it why they let don’t-know-who spoilt their record and released a dub version of their ‘Tonight’. ‘Blood’ is a very saddening (though danceable) record, and is very painful to hear: a blemish in Franz’s discography. I despise NME for giving it 7/10.

PPPPS:

Anyway I turn to love Lady Gaga. I didn’t really like her at first (a lot of people still don’t). But she wrote her own music and she knows how to sell. Moreover, I think her Mugler-ish style is kind of cool for her. Her haters say that she’s trying too hard. I think world needs someone like her to revive costumes a la the punk era when Sex Pistol ruled and Viviene Westwood was still playing with ‘Sex’.

the importance of being bankrupt and other stories

2009-05-31T04:42:00.022+08:00

OK let’s just be honest and get straight to the point. Finally disaster befalls on me. They have cut my money TWICE, once for goodness knows what, and another time was for the hostel fee. (Let’s not discuss who ‘they’ are here. Let’s just assume ‘them’ as a part of highly powerful institution before which I’m powerless.). Since my dignity and sunny optimism don’t let me ring back home to ask for money, thus my bank account is in the most horrifying state ever and I’ll have to bear with constantly reducing amount of it until the next paycheck. So what am I gonna do with it? Reducing myself to tears and/or whines, counting days forlornly, and giving up to the godamn forced poverty?

No.

Because attitude and how you behave in the state of crisis differentiate the real poor and the real rich, the unstylish and the stylish, the one without class and the one with, the unglam and the glam, Lisa Lopes and Hillary Clinton, Chris Brown and Hugh Grant, the nice cute girl with the self-made bitch – ok, you know what I mean.

Financial emergency unpreparedness list:

Let everyone knows how poor I am CURRENTLY. That makes a pretty good excuse to skip the fancy dinners and unnecessary hangout sessions with friends; as well as a good slap for self for disobeying the holy ‘rules about spending when you’re not rich AND not dating a millionaire’. And anyway, the story about ‘a girl who independently struggles for her living and education abroad in the storm of financial crisis’ always draws sympathies. Some people might have started a donation box for me somewhere.
Put on nice outfits on every single day. Even when it’s Sunday and I’m going to bed. This is very important to boost the feel-good feeling.
And of course, before doing number 2, I shall put on one of some nice cute expensive sets of bra and knickers (which actually have been playing quite a good part to drive me to the extra low financial level that I’m in; but let’s forgive and forget). Like number 2, this is very important to boost the feel-good feeling.
Then apply my lip gloss.
Then style my hair religiously.
Then this is the ultimate: all the killer heels must go back to work (Cos actually I’ve been starting to keep them in their boxes cos I get kind of bored with my work already, and that leads to my growing kind of tiredness to dress to kill for it – which actually is the thing that I SHOULDN’T do. I should have never lived without high heels. And oh, by the way when I say the ‘ultimate’, it also does mean the ultimate convicts of the bankruptcy. But let’s get away with it: everyone knows that real lovers are the ones who’ll be with you for richer and for poorer. Those heels will, until death do us part.). Use them wisely to enhance the dying spirit, just like how men use alcohol and junkies use heroin.
And before stepping out of the door, I shall equip myself with some flirting tips from YouTube. (Actually this should be done well before number 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6; and well, long loooong before this financial crisis swept away all my money.) Bookmark them in ‘education’ category.
In one way or another, all of the above things should lead me to some rampant flirting sessions with some guys –who happen to be rich- who will ask me out for ~~free lunches/dinners/drinks~~ dates.
If number 8 doesn’t work, let’s face it: maybe the best thing to do is to make a full use of office facilities for living. I’m not talking about printer or photocopier: the pantry. They have pretty good stockpiles, and I should be able to get coffee/tea/milk/fruits out from the shopping list.

One of the advantages of working in notable companies is that they are always very keen to improve the quality of their employees. To reach that goal, every now and then, they’ll organize seminars or talks which are really useful, educating and interesting (and most importantly, provide free lunches). Eating only coffee/tea/milk/fruits (with some occasional free lunches) for a month has never been proven to cause death, just a symptom of malnutrition. Take the positive side: I'll loose some weight effortlessly. Anyway, if thing gets really bad, I can always contemplate to start ‘printing and photocopying’ service at home.

Repeat this prayer every night:

‘Grant me the serenity to accept my salary may not extend to couture.

Courage to go own-brand in times of trouble.

And the wisdom to always look a million dollars, even if that’s the amount I owe.’

The Naughty Girl’s Guide to Life, Part Five

Don’t pity myself. Even with the fact that other than being bankrupt, I am also close to being homeless, single and dateless without any promising romantic journey in close proximity, my job is getting boring lately AND all of my friends seem to have the otherwise (The ten commandment demands us not to ‘cover neighbor’s wife’. I swear that until the day when I turn gay, I would have never coveted anyone’s wife. I’d just be happy with coveting other people’s bliss/luck that I couldn’t have, FML).

Remember that being less lucky doesn’t mean that you’re less fabulous. You might not have money, you might have been living in a cardboard, you might have been single, but you can’t afford not having style. ‘Bankruptcy/cardboard/singledom fade, style is eternal,’ said Yves Saint Laurent (well he didn’t really say that, but it’s verrry close).

PS:

I’m not in the phase of denial and I’m not kidding.

PSS:

Ok, maybe I’m a bit in denial.

PSSS:

Well, only a very very super extra tiny bit of it. And I’m still not kidding.

prayer

2009-05-30T02:00:00.004+08:00

Grant me the serenity to understand that his avoidance of me is just a form of his being shy of me; which happens because he knows that by doing otherwise he’d have been lured to enliven his true affection to me, which he's been trying so hard to repress.

Courage to realize that if only I’m five or seven years older, he will definitely have his head over heels for me, and together we can make a pretty cool item.

And the wisdom to truly believe –for own good sake- that all of the above fallacies are true.

PS:

Inspired by The Naughty Girl’s Guide to Life by Tara Palmer-Tomkinson and Sharon Marshall. Based on true story, wtf.

of books

2009-05-29T01:05:00.025+08:00

The accomplishment of this week was my being able to finish two books: ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ by Harper Lee and ‘The Great Gatsby’ by F Scott Fitzgerald. It’s lovely that I could catch both in good bargains (that’s the benefit of liking well-known literature books: they’ve been published and re-published by many publishing companies, and thus readers won’t be short of cheap, cheaper, and cheapest versions of them).

My ‘classic literatures’ epoch has just started, and these books were all written well many years ago; set in eras I’m not familiar with, places I’d never heard of; each has its unique background, culture and history. With merely little knowledge of them, or rather lack thereof, it was surprising I still could enjoy both.

Harper Lee’s ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ could easily make it to my favorite list. It was arguably one of the liveliest books I’ve ever read. It tells a story about Atticus Finch, a white lawyer who put his career at stake by defending a young black man who was accused to have raped a white woman; told from the point of view of his ten years old daughter, Scout.

Even though the story exposed a bitter theme of racial discrimination, the narration of a smart ten year old Scout about all the events would easily charm us with her innocent yet witty character. Anyway she’s just this little girl whose biggest fear was only Boo Ridley, a mysterious neighbor who’d never been seen out of the house for years, whose infamousness has been a popular topic of hearsays in the close-knitted neighborhood.

The Finches and companies represented the righteous moral ground as everybody else despised Atticus’ choice to defend any ‘mockingbird’ and forgo any racial and class differences which were hold uptight by the rest of Maycomb residents where the story was set.

Other than Scout, my favorite character would be no other than Atticus himself. In popular culture nowadays, Atticus has been perceived as some kind of hero and icon of modern law. He represents honor, humanity, and justice; altogether many lawyers find it hard to have. However what I like the most about him is the unconventional manner of interaction he built with his kids (at least for that era). Atticus had always talked to his children as if he was talking to adults. He deeply cared about them, and had always been honest with them. Atticus is a character who’s very noble, either as a father or as one who represented justice. It’s very difficult not to like him.

The part that I like the most is the scene at the court where the trial was held. Atticus’ speech at the trial should be read by all shallow minded who still back up racial discrimination. It was very beautiful and moving, and shows what an honorable man Atticus was. Another favorite is the last sentence of the book, which shows another side of Atticus as a devoted parent.

***

I was quite surprised by how fast I could finish Fitzgerald’s ‘The Great Gatsby’. Actually, by reckoning that the book is only like of 140-something pages, it’s not awe-provoking that I could finish it in just two days.

I had always thought that ‘The Great Gatsby’ was about all the glamorama of the roaring twenties, as we all have been so familiar with the term of ‘Gatsby era’. I was partly wrong. It has the aspect of glamorama a la the roaring twenties though. However it only makes a part of the setting and background of the story. The real story to focus is on a man named Jay Gatsby, a young, rich and famous socialite in the West Egg whose history was rather mysterious (but would be revealed slowly along the chapters). His penchant of throwing random parties attended by random people always managed to awe Nick Carraway, a modest neighbor, from whose point of view the story is told.

It was then found later that Gatsby, all the while, still loved his ex-lover, Daisy Fay, Nick’s second cousin who’d been married to another man named Tom Buchanan. The fortunes he made, parties he threw, and closeness he built to Nick were just his ways of finding and luring Daisy back to him.

Having made it to numerous reputable greatest-books-of-all-time lists, honestly though, I think the book is not as great as I expected it to be. I don’t find it a bad reading; nevertheless I can’t really guess what makes the book so alluring to the critics. Maybe it’s the subtle yet sharp symbolism of gloominess of great depression era, or that of shallowness and superficiality of aristocrats.

However, I found the book really touching. Towards the end of the book, I think I could slowly absorb Gatsby’s sorrow and loneliness. I find him miserable. I saw him as an unrealistic man who’d give and do anything to turn his wish to reality, but eventually failed to do so. He was very romantic, affectionate, yet deluded by his own thoughts.

‘The Great Gatsby’ is indeed a very sad and touching book, decorated by glittery yet forlorn background of jazz era; one great book, but not as great as it was claimed to be.

In the waitlist:

‘Catch 22’ by Joseph Heller
‘The Picture of Dorian Gray and Three Stories’ by Oscar Wilde

On the lighter note:

My roommate is playing Westlife’s ‘Allow Us to be Frank’, which I surprisingly love (I’m an avid boyband hater). I guess I’m just a sucker of any jazz.

lady don't you fall backwards

2009-05-26T00:27:00.004+08:00

I hate hate hate it how I always surrender under the same endless procrastination. That kills my time and kills creativity. I ponder how many walks I could have taken and how many books I could have read if only I have more courage to pull myself out of the bed and get dressed and just stroll around wherever my heart wants to. But that have never happened most of the times. And when the weekend went, I’d just regret what great things I could have done instead of gluing this lazy bum in the chair and trashing myself with cheap dinners and lousy takeaway. I didn’t even manage to get my ass off the chair and make some tea.

Sometimes I hate life for its unbearable mundaneness, but then again if you never ask you’ll never get.

I wish I could be happier: genuinely happier as day goes and take challenges and hardships as reasons to burst a loud laughter. I wish I could live happily ever after with many whimsical journeys throughout. I wish I could pull out my best look everyday, spell the magic charm, and feel confident about everything I am. I wish I could ban envies and live and let go and forgive and at some moments, stop and smell the flowers. I wish I could laugh when falling and failing and learn from mistakes and understand that I only live once.

I’m going to bookshop tomorrow.

On the lighter note:

Trashing myself with amusing movie (plus laughters and frappes till past 1.30am over a hangout at Clarke Quay) and cheap ride on Singapore Flyer (plus popeye's dinner and brutally hilarious conversations on bus) yesterday and today made me feel alive after days of living with fast foods and deliberate segregation from society. I shall ban macdonalds. No more fries and mcspicy, alright (However, popeye’s, burger king and kfc are still okay).

On the playlist:

Apes and Androids – Blood Moon (2009)
Peter Doherty – Grace/Wastelands (2009)
The Strange Boys – And Girls Club (2009)
Lady Gaga – The Fame (2009)
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – It’s Blitz! (2009)

Am reading:

To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee

if a body meets a body coming through the rye...

2009-05-16T02:07:00.014+08:00

I’ve finished reading ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ (from ages ago, but had to forgo the urge to note it down here due to nonexistence of leisure time lately). Actually it was triggered by this silly (yet somehow decent) quiz on facebook which likened my character to Holden Caulfield from this book.

The book may have been indentified with labels like ‘classic’ or ‘vintage’ but do not expect flowery sentences and prose with intricate plot -miseries and all- a la typical ‘classic’. My verdict would say that ‘The Catcher…’ might probably be one hell of a very modern book, in contrary with the fact that it was written around 1940’s. Holden fits as the boy-next-door kind of character with familiar slangs, expletives, angst, fear, discomfort and instability of youth.

Three quarter of the book tells his perspective on his breakaway from school. As described on my facebook quiz result, Holden ‘always complains about the things happening around and is never satisfied with them. He likes to criticize people and hates phoniness’. I couldn’t agree more. So there, for like almost 200 pages, what you’ll read is pretty much him telling his complaint about the things happening around, how he’s never satisfied with them, as well as how he indulges himself by criticizing people and hating phoniness.

Towards the end, his character becomes more and more annoying, with all the wild thoughts in his mind getting wilder and wilder; and his shallow persistence to stay away from ‘phoniness’. At that point, I couldn’t resist thinking that he’s phony too. And I kind of hate him, really. I usually never really hate a character from a book.

It’s just after you read the last chapter, that, you’ll understand what makes this classic classic: how he finally decides to go home for his sister – his catcher in the rye. And that scene on the zoo, the carousel, it kills me. I’d never expected to have my eyes watered from reading his story, but it just happened that way.

Following Holden’s narrative is like listening to a friend telling a story about one random day: nothing bombastic, yet difficult to be put down. Holden has all elements of life which usually lack in other books’ characters. His fear and coyness are clear to see. He has problems with himself which seem nonexistent, yet obscure; and he plays awfully good roles of protagonist and antagonist.

His storytelling style is distinctive; I could feel I was kind of swayed to speak like him in real life for several days during and after reading.

How I was able to relate myself with Holden’s character actually scares the shit out of me. I would say that the quiz result was 50% true. I’m not as hateful as him, though; am pretty much disinterested with people’s phoniness, even though I won’t resist the urge to bitch about it when the mood strikes. And surely am nothing close from being a troublemaker –not to that extent of trouble he made, like been kicked out from four schools. I’ve had time when I liked and disliked him, and liked him back because later I realized that ‘hmm, actually it’s quite like me’. He is complex, and not likeable; sensitive yet trying hard to be uncaring. Well, nobody’s perfect. I hate myself too sometimes.

Salinger, in no doubt, has written a hell of an excellent work. Not really my kind of favorite, but it’s good, so it’s good. This book is the kind which you’ll either like or despise, so I won’t really recommend it to everyone. Read and enjoy with your own verdict.

catch 3.30am

2009-05-04T03:02:00.012+08:00

Ok, it’s 2.19am here but I don’t bother to sleep because I’d slept for like forever these last few days, and I feel like I’m obliged to stay awake now. Anyway there will be a morning tea session in office tomorrow (today) so that will buy a few hours for me to have a good sip of coffee.

I was on my halfway reading ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ by J.D. Salinger, and at a point, realized that I still have some books on my shelves, left unread. See, I’ve told you many times about being commitment phobic.

So there is this Belle de Jour’s first book that I haven’t finished. Then some old ones that I don’t really bother to finish; like ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ by Audrey Niffenegger, then ‘The Pillars of the Earth’ by Ken Follett. I should have finished re-reading ‘The Origin of Financial Crises’ by George Cooper as well, but I was distracted by ‘The Naughty Girl’s…’ last time. Then I spotted in one of the shelves, this ‘Freakonomics’ by Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner, tucked in between Tim Harford's , which I don’t really worry about because I’ve read the library's copy of it a year ago- bought them just for the sake of having it. And there is this Harper Lee’s ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ on the table, idle and untouched, which I purchased together with ‘The Catcher…’ yesterday (er, two days ago).

I can see now that I should fret not about not having much stuff to kill time. Instead, I should have been anticipating time killing me. I’m afraid I must left some being unread forever. Talk about unfinished business, I remember that there are also some titles left unread for years in my house in Indo: Jostein Gaardner’s ‘Sophie’s World’ and Ayu Utami’s ‘Larung’. It’s such a shame actually, because both are said to be must reads and as far as I can remember, they were pretty damn good actually. I bought both when I was in highschool, and have been trying to read few more pages on and off during holidays when I could lay my hands on them. But I’ve never made it. There was no reason. Some things are meant to be unfinished and undone, and those titles, oh so they are.

I’ve been eyeing and googling some new titles though. My reading mood is easily swung day by day. There was this time when I was crazy all over with Meg Cabot’s. Then there was another time when the ‘How tos’ and fashion books filled the cabinet. The latest was the ‘economics books’ period; and I think I can foresee a penchant of classic literatures coming in. The latest purchase (‘The Catcher..’ and ‘To Kill..’) has started the new epoch (and I’ve spent hours reading synopsises of Maugham’s, Fitzgerald’s, Nabokov's and Wilde’s; contemplating and budgeting to buy some of their titles).

I kind of regret it that I file for IA extension with my company. I like the job, but I think I can use some months -ok, weeks- for a real me-time: reading books and hanging out at HSS Library, and finishing the ‘homeworks’. I wish and wish not that they will grant the extension. Fate decides.

In the meantime let me finish whatever I can finish and all (let’s not overlook the IA report and logbook – fcuking awesome, why don’t they just let us work, have fun and don’t make a big deal about it?).

I probably can start to use some good sleep now.

I’m off.

0830 in the morning

2009-04-29T08:26:00.006+08:00

I was walking past spinelli café on my way down to office this morning, and I suddenly missed:

- a good cup of coffee, I want mine sweet;
- at near midnight;
- in a coffee shop somewhere downtown;
- with a bunch of close pals with whom any kinds of chat can be hold;
- some time in a holiday, preferably near Christmas, but in general, any holidays can do.

I’m having a fresh-brewed cappuccino in my desk now. Must praise my office for investing in that 5 grand worth of coffee maker.

dotdotdot

2009-04-28T19:34:00.003+08:00

I had a dream this morning. There was my mom’s voice, the very familiar voice that I used to hear everyday during schooldays back then, waking me up in the morning. That voice, no matter how annoying I found it for years, had never failed to get me onboard to school on time. In my dream, I woke up, and there was she, smiling. Her hair was longer and she looked much younger, and prettier than the image I could remember from our last encounter.

I woke up, for real. It was my phone alarm waking me up. It was raining outside. I went to shower, and cried inside the cubicle.

I don’t want to ring home tonight. I hope it was just PMS.

bam!

2009-04-28T00:33:00.007+08:00

People in this planet must understand that, when they are playing part in the process of procreation pro bono (not really a correct term to use, I, and I believe public in general, don’t feel benefitted, but let’s get away with this) while the space we live in has never been expanding; it is just perfectly normal that we’ll slam into strangers, on the road, in the train, everywhere. Oh come on, we’re not untouchable!

Today, I:

- on the way to office in the morning, accidentally slammed into a pregnant lady. I said sorry but she gave me the evils. I didn’t fell a slightest bit of sorry anymore.

- when heading to MRT station after office, saw a man riding bicycle almost hit this old lady in front of me. This lady later gave the man this evilish look which strangely looked familiar. He said sorry. I chuckled behind her. I swear I saw that man secretly smiling at me as I was trying to hide my teeth from showing.

I mean, I don’t mind any slamming and hitting as long as it doesn’t involve any brokenness, and oh, groping. It makes a good excuse to let out one or two swearwords without being blamed anyway.

courage is...

2009-04-26T02:59:00.003+08:00

…being able to stand cool and remain graceful –with Karen O shouting at your ears- while all the smug couples tirelessly tried to convince you how pathetic and alone you were while they were all but nothing like those; by thinking that it was funny to put their flaming affections on full display in every aisle you walked by (and really doing it); on a Friday at near midnight when you were shopping groceries in a nearby supermarket all alone. FML.

a, b, c, d, e, f...ml

2009-04-23T21:43:00.014+08:00

Wearing flat shoes today made me feel less fabulous and hence, reduced a significant level of self-confidence and self-esteem (which have been naturally low, by the way): true story. Even if the said guilty shoes were Converse, which are actually equally stylish as any other heels, but still. High-heel shoes really do wonders.

OMG, have I:

fabulously turned to be a member of the ‘sisterhood’ (refer to The Naughty Girl's Guide to Life by Tara Palmer-Tomkinson and Sharon Marshall)?
non-fabulously turned to be a member of the ‘sisterhood’ wannabes since I have never laid my hands on any Prada/Gucci/LV/all those labels mentioned in every fashion-themed shabby pop songs - at least not as my belongings (refer to a)?
mixed up between reality and larger-than-life, stylishly dogmatic, Vogue-ish/fashion magazine-ish lifestyle, in short, been living double standard?
been being delusional all the time, thinking as if the world was just as big as 5^th Avenue/Rodeo Drive/Via Montenapoleone/Rue de Fabourg Saint Honore?
not reached self actualization yet, and therefore, become highly reliant to fashion items as basic survival kits?
b, c, d and e. FML.

And I fucked up my work today (or I think I did, see the paragraph about low self-esteem). It must have been something with the shoes, wth. Thank God I’m seeing a counselor tomorrow.

PS:

Talking about counselor; cripes, I think I’ll need to fake a list of ‘What critical parents and nurturing parents inside you say about making mistakes’. I still don’t quite believe this entire counseling thing but at least I admit I’m going crazy. Maybe I should try a shrink.

Anyway, from my point of view, I have never doubted that mere retail therapy could do magic in curing all ongoing craziness. Ok let me make this clear: counseling center is opted instead because I’m too financially ruined to splurge on a lavish retail getaway. There.

PSS:

I’ve bought The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl by Belle de Jour. Finally. It’s obvious that this was my most anticipated book purchase of the year.

On the playlist:

Lily Allen – Back to the Start (2009)
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – compilation of all albums
Kings of Leon – Only by the Night (2008)
The S.I.G.I.T. – Visible Idea of Perfection (2006)

washing hands is a selfish deed indeed

2009-04-19T03:33:00.004+08:00

Election was just a week -or so- ago, and for the first time when I supposedly had a right to vote, I chose to neglect it. Don’t judge me easily. Been reading newspapers since I was 12, and ever since, have been aware of national politics and its turmoil (only to be paused when I’m here in Singapore, and will be resumed every time I come back Indo during breaks): deciding whom to believe in, and who deserves the trust is daunting. With every political season changes; new faces, new groups of people, new political parties come rolling in with new jargons, better advertisements, and longer, more promising promises.

The thing is, when everyone’s offering their best deals, how could you ever make a choice? So I thought it was just normal that for this time I let myself be apathetic: just shut and observed from afar. And I know many people had the same thought.

Politicians hate people like me. It drives me nuts to know how far they would go to force people to vote. At the same time it amuses as well because I know that many people who deliberately choose to be indifferent when it comes to elections are actually those who indeed care and understand politics: the system and those blablabla inside out. However being sickened by the system (votes are cheap and are buyable commodities), this kind of people were disgusted and hence decided to leave the loop, which actually was not a really good way to voice out. It’s just that, it’s better to keep hands clean and stay away from making mistakes…

…which I reckon now that is actually a VERY wrong philosophy. Watching, and being deeply touched by, Laskar Pelangi and Daun di Atas Bantal (shall write about these movies on other day) during my sick days have reminded me that there should have been something we all can do to change this condition: poverty and how it abuses children and violates their opportunities of having brighter futures. We all can’t possibly get down and help, but maybe, well maybe, government and those with higher authorities have a way to do something, make a change, and stop potential tragedies from really happening.

Choosing the right characters to take care and represent the needs of those who’re actually in need would be a good headstart for us to help. I am not a really optimistic person, and am totally aware of how nasty our politicians can be; but could it be so bad that, all of those elected are bastards? One good guy can make a change, methinks.

Yes, campaigning posters and banners in every corner (some are really ridiculous beyond limit!) still make my eyes sore sometimes. Yes, I’ve been seeing political parties from a very cynical point of view. But regardless how I disbelieve/hate/am cynical about these people, and regardless whether I like them or not, the show shall go on. Some of them would be the ones stepping in and probably, taking parts in changing the lives of us people. I should have cared.

Citizens of many other countries have been longing to embrace democracy since forever, but yet to get a chance. Indonesia has given us a privilege to enjoy the real-life, full time democratic features complete with the rocky rides, even though the cost is pricey (read the above paragraphs). The high cost should have urged us to make use of the benefits to the max, and that we shall do.

Washing my hands clean off election was so selfish of me. If I voted, my vote could have been meaningless, but that would be the least I could do to show that I cared (I do) about the future of our nation and its people. That; at least before I can do something myself.

Better get my hands dirty next time.

after sickness

2009-04-15T09:42:00.002+08:00

Second day of MC, and let me tell you: this is not a funny affair. Catching flu is totally unglam, and being collapse over it is so not recommended.

Apparently my body hasn’t really understood this rule: lonesome and poor fellas are not allowed to be sick. Hence, yesterday I dragged down this weak body myself to medical center since nobody was going to take care of me. Not when exam is here already and my friends are all on IA. What I am to them. This occurrence has taught me that I need to have a kid someday when I’m old (not necessarily from my own birth canal, wth). Or, that I need to get very very rich so I could pay a nanny to take care of the old me.

I spent the agonizing yesterday staying in and sleeping practically ¾ of the day. Today, since I’ve felt a bit (a bit) better, I’m just gonna bundle up and maybe read book or watch movies. My IA friend has just called and said that my boss needed me urgently. I was in the middle of some important works when I left office AS (Ante Sickness, wth). I hope my boss has mercy and understands the agony of being sick.

I recalled last Sunday I wondered if I could take some hours off office to go catch discount at UNIQLO. Apparently, a greater power has heard my wish and granted me not only one, but TWO days off office. What an opportunity. (No la, just kidding la, God will hate me if I dare to drag myself down to Tampines this time.)

Anyway, am so bored, hence this pointless post. Being sick has made me realize that I had never really appreciated being healthy while I was. I’m so gonna eat more fruits and continue my new jogging routine.

Being sick is unglam, especially when it’s ‘just’ flu.

spring shopping

2009-04-12T00:28:00.005+08:00

So what’s the outcome of me coming down all the way from Boon Lay to Tampines today?

Zero. Nada. Nothing. Epic fail.

So there was this famous Japanese clothing line coming to Singapore. (U*I*L* you-know-what, they’re in every magazine already). And since I’ve been informed that they are famous for the faboo skinny jeans (come in colors and by this ‘s’ I mean MANY) which are now retailing for just 50 bucks during the ten days promotion, I came to check it out. Alone, without the girls in tow -so you know how determined I was.

Once I landed in there, I realized that hours of travelling time had all gone pete tong. The queue was absofcukinglutely long from outside the shop. It freaked me out. What I needed was simple: me in*dash*skinnies*dash*out. But seemingly, there was no way I could sashay in to the store with minimum effort. I left the place straight away. There is no way I would like to line up and queue up like the rest of them commoners. And this arrogance would be paid by me not being able to snatch the discounted price skinnies (buying them full-priced is totally out of the to-do list). Well I probably could, if I was smart enough to think of a way to sneak out during office hours. Thanks God since I’m not, I save bucks.

I was aghast: the last time I saw such queue (other than at Donut Empire, wth) was when Stephen Sprouse came out with his graffiti collection. For Vuitton! Holy crap, thanks for the marketing and advertisements.

And just like that, my shopping journey of the day ended tragically (umm not really I got Zara’s stuffs as reliever in the end, but no skinnies. No filthy cheap 50 bucks skinnies!)

Ok thanks bye.

2.20am

2009-04-04T02:20:00.003+08:00

Okay so I thought counseling center was another ‘miscellaneous’ department in this fcuking university. You know, the kind of, it has to exist just because a reputable, world-class, international, blablabla-insert-all-good-advertisement-crap educational institution has to have it. I was wrong.

A counseling appointment costed me a full day leave from office as they placed me in the most inconvenient timeslot possible, and their schedule is so tight that they can only slot my next appointment for the next two weeks. Geez, is it true that there are too many depressed people already in here –me included, wth? Because if it is so, well, euh.

the confession of a shoe-a-holic (in the making)

2009-03-29T16:55:00.006+08:00

Aye. Heart-poking statement about how intelligence is inversely proportional with the height of your shoe heels might be –dishearteningly- true. Or at least, it is for me. I, yours truly, could – for self defense- produce my dean’s list certificate and you, gorgeous and smart ladies, whose universal aim is to disprove the first statement could smile in glee. I mean, I know what you ladies are going to say: ‘How about Anna Wintour?’, ‘How about those DABA girls?’, ‘How about Michelle Obama and Carla Bruni-Sarkozy and Queen Rania, and oh Grace Kelly?’, and your list of examples goes on.

Victoria Beckham may have shoes collection most fashionable women covet, but she's never been really smart.

Trust me ladies, I don’t think Anna Wintour and those DABA girls are really that smart. Aye, they’re sharp, but if your definition of smart means knowing how to put on five mega-labels at a time stunningly –and get themselves rich finance boyfriends, then we’re on different league. And I think Michelle and Carla and Rania and Grace just want to be fashionably-politically-correct (ok I don’t know how to put this correctly but you know what I mean) by strolling around in public wearing a pair.

Michelle Obama always chooses politically safe pairs.

I mean, really, in my case now (which is immortalized in a book titled ‘The Banal Adventure of a Rather Insipid College Girl’, wth), the statement IS really true. Ever since I started my internship last January, what I’ve been eager to do is expanding my shoes collection instead of working tremendously hard, making use of the real-life learning experience and trying to impress my superiors with my ridiculously sky high intelligence (which I have never had by the way, but you understand the sarcasm).

Well she, Imelda Marcos, is just lucky to have all the money to build that GIGANTIC shoes collection - 2700 pairs and keeps adding. WTH. She's never been that smart either.

One pair a week is never enough and a stroll pass a shoe boutique now turns to be a nail-biting experience. And from time to time, my choice would be the ones with higher heels. The worst part is, lately I’ve been thinking to buy one rather expensive pair for investment (Gucci and YSL are rather ‘affordable’ methinks, but even so, not that my savings allow anyway). This is, FYI, proportional to the increasing direness of working performance. FML.

With the current economic downturn (they predicted Singapore to reach its peak by next year, the year in which I’ll graduate, thank you very much), I think what I’m gonna left with after I graduate is just a bunch of worn out shoes. I’ll be living Carrie Bradshaw –in her poorest state, and sans Manolos!

PS:

“We have no budget. We do what we want and throwing money out of window brings money back through the front door.”

Karl Lagerfeld

Not a really relevant one liner, but yet the Kaiser’s wish is our command. In a bad economic time like this, world will be a better place if all people emblazon this chant in minds.

fml to the maxxxx

2009-03-14T17:47:00.002+08:00

Combo FMLs from my miserable life for you to laugh at:

Today,

I had to wake up at 7am for an important project presentation. I slept at 5am preparing the slides. The presentation didn’t need slides. FML.

Today,

I am a civil engineering student doing research on pavement. I had my project presentation in front of a panel of judges. One of the judges asked me about the result from X-Ray Diffraction test blablabla which was just actually a minor data for my project. I didn’t know the answer. I bluffed and I thought I was bluffing successfully since how many civil engineering lecturers know about X-Ray Diffraction. Later I found that he was a Material Science Professor. Material Science students use XRD all the times. No wonder he kept on smiling when I was answering his question. FML.

fml

2009-03-14T03:38:00.001+08:00

Today,

Not only have I conquered my fears, I actually chatted with them. I can feel all despair and sulkiness evaporated as I was able to embrace those fears. Sometimes we should not see things from just our own perspective.

les miserables

2009-03-12T22:09:00.000+08:00

How to summarize the engulfing feeling of dissatisfaction towards self, or stifling thoughts of my being invisible to civilization, coupled with reassurance from subconscious self that such self-actualization is non-exist in every layer of present life, topped with surliness of self-confidence, and dressed with humble realization that the state of lousiness –or blurriness- is now an acquaintance in every stage of thinking and doing process?

Two words:

“oh fuck”

Exclamation mark.

Words.

20

2009-03-03T00:45:00.020+08:00

It’s the fact that I’ll be turning 20 in mere days that makes me sit and think. Seems like after nearly 20 years of running and walking away and enjoying my existence as a living creature, this is the moment in which I have enough maturity and gut –and chance, even though nearly no proper time- to sit and think about myself.

Ah sweet 20 I will be. How does it feel like to live for 20 years? Fast and hard, I think. Seems like it was just yesterday that I was listening to Norah Jones’ first album –it was when I was about to get to high school. I was 15 –or 14, can’t remember. I was so young and carefree and ideas were running free. I knew where I wanted to go, and the best part was, I didn’t have to think about failing; future seemed to be aloof. Time was wide open for me to play around with. I could fool the time. ‘Nevermind,’ I’d say to myself, ‘I still have a lot of spare times’. I was very young.

Yesterday, when I listened to ‘Painter Song’ by Norah Jones again, I felt like being time-travelled. Five years haven’t changed me much. But memories within those five years –good or bad, happy or sad- I can no longer remember. I wonder where the five years go, where the years before that go. Which kind of persons had filled the gap in between? Who and what had shaped my life? And thinking about it again, as Norah wonders ‘if she were a painter’, made me sad. I’ve become a ‘now’ person. And even though everybody says I am very young, I feel old.

---

Chamomile tea would be good for times like this. But tomorrow I’ll have to go to work, I don’t have time to sit back and enjoy. I must accept this: I am capitalized. So with the absence of a cup of warm tea, I wonder if I want to live this banal reality forever. Don’t get me wrong. Everything in my life seems to have been crafted and assembled perfectly. The twists were great, so far. However I must admit that even though God is a talented director, I’m a poor actress. I am powerless to stand up from falling, and to drive away dialogues from mundaneness; I don’t improvise, or even if I do, I believe it will turn out bad. Hence a poor actress I’ve been for 20 years.

Later when the candles are blown and the cake’s cut, the new epoch starts. Twenty years is not a short time. I can’t wait. I want to know how it feels like to breathe the air when I’m twenty, and how good/bad it is the view from 20 years-old eyes. I’ll need to improve my acting. I must call God and make an appointment for an acting course. This will also be a perfect time to make the ultimate resolutions. Damnit, who says I’m young? I’m rotten.

***

On the lighter side:

Things I hate about turning twenty:

You can no longer use ‘teenager’ status as an excuse for ridiculous temper-loss or random doldrums, or stupidity.

Questions about your future steps, careers, marriage (??), kids (!!!) etc, etc will rise exponentially. Your world in on your shoulder.

You’ll soon join the real rat race.

One year closer to death.

Twenty-somethings are years in which you will experience a lot of firsts: first real career, first real salary, first real super inhumane boss/colleague, first job loss maybe, first fiancée, first husband maybe, first kid (omfg), the list is endless.

Graduating soon. See point 3.

Being older without actually being more mature.

---

To make your lives easier, just in case you are wondering what kind of thing I would like to have as present(s) for this bday, here's my wish list; complete with the possibility of really getting each of them. Friends, I do not underestimate you all, but I know you all so dearly I know that chances are I will get zero thing(s) from the list. But why don't I try, just for fun...ha

Not in order of preference:

a pair (or more) of Manolo shoes (probability: -30000% !!!)

a Polaroid camera (probability: 0%)

good book(s), or a bookshop voucher (probability:2%)

a ticket to Coldplay concert (probability: 0%)

a beautiful bouquet of flowers (probability: 1%)

Max Brenner’s pralines (probability: 1%)

a treat to a lovely restaurant/café/bar that I’ve never been before (probability: 2%)

cute lovely birthday cards (probability: 5%)

cute handmade scrapbooks from dearest of friends (probability: 0%)

a cute guy inside a wrapped box with huge ribbon on it. And by saying cute, I mean REALLY cute. Not just cute, not cute: REALLY cute. Whoever it is. (probability: 2% - somehow I’m quite confident about this being part of my present, but I believe whoever that guy will be, he won’t be a REALLY cute kind that I like, wth. I bet at most it will be Dhany. Somehow they've given strong hints about this. Really wth, haha...)

a lovely, relaxed weekend without homework/overtime (probability: 1%)

But above all, if I can ask, I want recognition: that even though now I might be small and unimportant, but I’m here: alive and thinking, and I’m growing big – or well, hopefully.

It’s indeed never been easy to get what you want in life ;) especially when you are just/already 20.

PS:

Wtf was happening yesterday? It chilled my blood in no moment to imagine how he went through last minutes of his life.

This incident makes a good reminder for us to contemplate and unite; as well as a chance to swear out loud in the midst of all the craziness, methinks.

Deepest condolence. May he rest in peace.

if this is an ideal case

2009-03-01T18:12:00.004+08:00

In an ideal case, these last two days would have made the most perfect weekend. It was raining, the air was cold, I was all alone in the room. In an ideal case, I would have been sitting comfortably in my chair, jazz songs would have been playing, and these two new books I’ve just bought wouldn’t just lie there idly.

In an ideal case, at moment like this, time wouldn’t pass so quickly. I would be able to sip my tea slowly. Praise the Lord for the good day, as I’d be trying to seek warmth in the midst of not-so-friendly coldness by hugging my tea mug so dearly.

Alas non-ideal is the new ideal. Scenario was ruined. World is filled with chaos.

NB:

It’s raining. It should have been a perfect lazy Sunday afternoon. I want to sleep.

I hate Monday.

yeah yeah yeah (to death)

2009-02-18T00:59:00.007+08:00

Whilst waiting for the amazingly slow company email to open up:

When he (an engineer I’m working with in my office) said, “Enjoy your first design experience.” I couldn’t hide my smile. I know it’s gonna be a neck-wrecking, stomach-turning experience, but isn’t this what I’m waiting for?

When he stacked this thick soil report and archi-drawings on my desk, I could feel my blood circulating at a faster rate. This is a sudden euphoria.

I feel like I've just won toto. If I were the ‘mankind’, Neil Armstrong’s quote would work on me: it was a small step for a man, a giant leap for a mankind. Okay, lame, sorry. Anyway, I know that initially he was reluctant to let me do the work, but I think I kind of have gained his trust after he saw my effort in doing his first assignment on composite column.

So anyway I am given this chance to do the preliminary design of an indoor sport hall of a high school. Roof to piles; top to bottom. I believe I will be found dead by the deadline (which is coming verrrrry soon to my surprise), but isn’t this what I’m waiting for?

I regret the fact that I’m always be an idiot when it comes to doing minor jobs, and that I must refuse some jobs (blimey, I’m like working freelance in this company; everybody can ask me to do everything for him/her). But this time, I believe I’ve been put to a test. Okay, let put it in this way: exam on Friday, prepare yourself, open book, you can ask but can’t do things wrong.

PS:

And by the way, why do I sound like very enthusiastic about this? Hey, where is the lady who keeps on saying that engineer’s life is not her life? Where is this lady who keeps on complaining about how she doesn’t like her study? This lady who swore that instead of working in as civil engineer, she would definitely put her lipstick and her heels on and work in Vogue? This lady whose dream is to be an aspiring journalist-cum-fashion-stylist?

Oh cripes, please somebody assure me that instead of a growing likeness (because I really, really like my office, and colleagues, and the working culture here - despite the unavoidable stressfulness and overtime-working - and am so000 dying to move on to more challenging stuffs to do), this is more to my being goal oriented and perfectionism in doing everything. Otherwise I’d better shoot myself to death. I'd feel like I've been cheating my inner self.

because the boundary was just as thin as cold air...

2009-02-15T17:16:00.009+08:00

Things I hate/love about Valentine’s Day (because the boundary between love and hate is just as thin as cold air):

I don’t know if it has something to do with VD but suddenly all shops were like having discounts and sorts. Hail to the marketing departments that single ladies could express their ‘oh-it’s-VD-and-I’m-single-but-so-what-because-I’m-cool-smart-and-stylish-and-it’s-not-like-I’m-the-kind-who-buys-such-VD-thingies-btw-so-fcuk-those-couples-I-pity-them-actually-hahaha-look-at-them-they’re-trapped-in-this-silly-marketing-gimmick-and-look-at-those-dresses-and-flowers-oh-I’m-so-gonna-puke-so-look-at-me-I’m-having-a-perfect-life-now-I’m-just-gonna-have-a-good-day-with-myself-and-my-credit-card’ kind of feeling/desperation at the same time (because, again, the boundary between those two things is just as thin as cold air, le sigh). For me, I was happy enough to catch this yellow patent pump from m)phosis with 70% discount and this grey sequined top with 50% discount. Me likey.
Who says we’re in recession? I’ll urge everyone to spell C.O.M.M.E.R.C.I.A.L.I.Z.A.T.I.O.N. VD was undeniably a perfect excuse to spend money like water. I spent three digits of dollars during this day. (Okay, ¾ was for other things, but trust me; those bills from chocolate bar, cinema, Japanese restaurant, and German pub -combined together- were not for the faint hearted. And I didn’t even celebrate VD! How on earth could I fall into such a marketing trap? Cripes, I’m cheappppp.)
Spending day with good friends, good foods, good drinks, at good places was probably the best thing I could ever have to revamp my mood after bad days and nonsensical doldrums. However, have I talked about the bills? And commercialization? And the bills???

Good day, I had a great day and night, although was in the midst of light desperation. Thanks a bunch, peeps!

"While the rays of light catch my eyes, the coldness in the air fills my lungs, and couples’ loves fill the air, do your senses capture it as well?
Where are you?
What are you doing?
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

(…and all these stupid butterflies kept on caroling, dancing, teasing, tingling in my stomach until one perfect line came to destroy it all: ‘He’s just not that into you.’ Cripes. I must repeat the chant, grab my girlfriends and catch this show in cinema. I’ve got a feeling that the moral of the story is very sound. Le sigh. And this is how I’m going to end my VD post. Oh how I love/hate being single!)

they people

2009-02-07T13:05:00.004+08:00

My oh my.

It didn’t take me so long to see that world, indeed, is filled with lost boys who, surprisingly, breathe the same air with you and can be found easily within radius of less then 1 meter around you.

It is a shame that some people grow up but have never really reached maturity. I thought that maturity –even the least amount of- would exist by default when people grow old, or after they have passed certain rites of passage in their lives. But I am proven wrong.

These boys –or girls- are lingering around, thinking they’re grown-ups while basically they’re just the very same girls and boys we could find hanging around in high school corridors: lost and are still finding paths to walk on. The major difference is just that they don’t realize they’re lost; hence forfeited by fate to have very severe personality problems – de facto result of immaturity.

The campaign of growing old gracefully is futile.

As for me, I’m still 19. I’m okay. I’m a teenager. I’m finding excuses.

madddddnessss

2009-01-29T00:15:00.001+08:00

Being unseen is uncool.
Being uncool is uncomfortable.
Being uncomfortable drives you straight to maddddddddnessssssssssssssss

I’m going maddddddddd!!!

PS:

Be careful of what you wish for. It might really come true.

girlgirlgirl

2009-01-27T23:56:00.003+08:00

Have just bumped into some of my high school girl friends’ facebook profiles –and some high school acquaintances which I’ve never got to contact after I went abroad to university. Feel bad for that, but it feels good to see that they are all pretty now. I remember this one girl who used to wear the thick glasses and styled her hair in the simplest ponytail possible -altogether made it kind of unflattering for her- and now she comes as this pretty chick. Make up and hairdo, check; stylish clads, check. It’s great to see how those things come handy to these young women when it comes to beautify (and along the way –glorify) themselves. No matter what those nice songs say, superficiality lives, and skin is important. I’m happy for them.

I bet uni life has changed the lost ducklings a lot. You know what I thought about it at first? I thought it was kind of like sort of things you would find in K-dramas (which I don’t like) in which this ordinary young girl would turn into a pretty lass and get the boy she liked to like her back etc etc. Ah, hate clichés I do. Anyway, cheers to the young ladies who have survived this minor K-drama cliché. The question is, have I?

PS:

I’m tired. A girl of my age should have been falling in love, stopped and smelt the flowers. But what am I doing here? What, you tell me?? (Poster is –presumably- done, office assignment is done –close eyes.) Gosh, I need to feel young again and dance like mad on the street like nobody would care.

tonight

2009-01-26T16:54:00.014+08:00

Here I am. Bending my body backward, resting on the chair; letting my head nod aggressively to Franz Ferdinand’s latest album, Tonight. I let my fingers run in my hair, while the rest are dancing on the keyboard as if they’re dancing to the electric tunes. I feel so good. This music is ecstatic. I can say to any man, ‘bring me to the dance floor and I’ll be alright’. I really will. I wonder when these guys will be coming here and playing live. I don’t mind going alone, I can dance the night away and wake up and still alive on the next day. (Talk about not attending Peter Cincotti, The Ting Tings, and most probably Kaiser Chiefs live concerts, too)

Anyway, notes are all over the table. I thought when school was over, it’s over. But it’s not. Educating self goes beyond school. And you know me. You know how much I am willing to sacrifice for a greater good for self. Hah. (For me, going to school is a job). Holidays don’t come as how it supposed to be. I am totally mindfucked. Thanks to my own penchant of giving up so easily to past endless procrastination. Posters and all. And that holiday gift from office. You know, after several weeks of working, I come to like those business jargons: corporate ladder, salary men, etc etc. Maybe because going to work kind of makes me feel like entering the rat race. It's bad I know- entering the rate race I mean, but take me as an excited first-timer. After a while I also come to think that those business jargons don't really apply in my office. Rat race, definitely yes. But corporate ladder, hah. I don’t even think that it’s a corporation; and even if there is a ladder to climb, it must have been well hidden –or perfectly invisible- so only some good eyes can see it and start to land their asses way up high. For the rest, they’re just condemned to work and work and they don’t mind because they love what they do. Good for them fellas, I wish I could envy them. Anyway, I do. Envy them, I mean. I wish I could love something that much and live from it.

Do I love what I do? Well I am basically not human, so that question is rather unethical. I do what I have to do, for goodness sake it’s a job. I think in my entire life job has never gotten something to do with phrases like ‘love’, ‘like’, ‘passion’, ‘enjoy’, etc etc. So anyway, I have to finish my poster which I have to present to my supervisor tomorrow. I have to finish reading this british standard and understand it and make the ‘corporation’ happy. But in the meantime, why do I let my head nod to this music, and eyes cry to the ballads?

Am I basically not human?

You can feel it.

On the playlist:

Franz Ferdinand – Tonight (2009)
The Killers – Day and Age (2008)

“Are we human, or are we dancer?

My sign is vital, my hands are cold
And I’m on my knees
Looking for the answer

Are we human, or are we dancer?”

Human, The Killers (Day and Age, 2008)

godspeed

2009-01-17T02:40:00.003+08:00

Okay. No rings, good sign.
Anyway, have I ever been good?
For you? As a human? As whatever you think I am? You think?
Poor you, I’m right under your nose. And I’m gonna call it home.
For long enough, I'm afraid.

Hey me, godspeed.
I’m not gonna win what I want, I can see that,
But I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win something over.
Because I’ve tried to be good.
You can't deny that I'm good.

PS:

Forgive corniness. Just some unimportant note to self.

2009

2009-01-14T20:53:00.002+08:00

Mmmm, ok you can shoot me to death; I’ve been practically abandoning this blog for like 3452 years already. I’m not even sure if there is any of you who still assiduously tries to open this page just to find nothing new. But for you who does, my bow down goes to you. I won’t bury this page away. Damn, where else I could bitch at? Friends are not really friends when it comes to your time to bitch.

Ah, so where should I start?

‘Holiday dramarama edisi desember’ is not finished yet. Actually there were quite many things happened, may things I managed to notice during the short December holiday. Alas, time doesn’t let me tell. Hang on with me like what you’ve done, fellas.

So is it 2009 already? Cripes, really, for this year I didn’t even bother to make resolutions. ‘What for?’ I asked to myself. All past years resolutions were all gone pete tong. There is no need to spend much time planning this and that just to find out that every New Year will just bring me to the same old brand new homework. So this is it, resolution-less year. I just want to live by the way, and if that means living a lousy life, let it be.

Am not going to school this semester, and instead, am having internship in a notable consultancy firm in town. Melikey? Hell yeah so far. First week was the worst. Me no likey when it came to fooling around doing nothing while my, ehm, coworkers were busy with their stuffs and couldn’t be bothered to entertain new fish like me. Once they gave me work, I’ve never looked back. Really, just throw me any shit to do, I’ll be happy. Just don’t leave me idling. I can’t take such a torture. By the way, do you know what other things are torturing me during this internship? My heels. That, and having to dress like an old office lady everyday. God forgive me I just have no style.

Cripes, you can see how big my love to Scofield is that I’ve been practically sacrificing my life trying to live his world (note: not in jail lah ok).

PS:

That 'Merem Melek' show is a fake. Nothing was real, it was all on the scenario. Blimey I should have known this was gonna coming. Cripes.

holiday dramarama edisi desember: forewords

2008-12-23T00:30:00.006+08:00

Three words are enough to summarize my holiday so far: flu and couch potato. Now that I can remember, flu has been a loyal welcome back gift for some last holidays; and yes, regardless my never-ending complaint about how shabby, dull, and cheap Indonesia TV programs are, I still can’t get enough of watching more than three infotainments a day (I think this one should be Indonesia’s signature TV show –along with sinetron, for we have a lot of it –A LOT). Hence, couch potato.

I spent most of my days at home. Friends are still busy with their finals week –or whatsoever, and available hang-out friends are not that many. I’ve finished ‘Microtrends’ and now been moving to ‘The Pillars of the Earth’. I liked ‘Microtrends’, but ‘The Pillars’ hasn’t been really successful in egging on my desire to continue reading it (I stuck on page 131, my verdict so far: Tom Builder is a bastard).

I wish I bring my laptop along with me. Despite the dosage of infotainments, I need something to kill time in between. And trying to use computer at home usually involves a disastrous sibling rivalry, as my brother has come to believe that he is the proprietor of the throne. I had to step in and show him that it’s me the one with power, and thus among the heirs, I’m the one who’s in line of the throne. (That was just why I didn’t go online so often lately).

Being couch potato has given me privilege to ‘enjoy’ Indonesia-style of TV entertainment on a full time basis. Some funny things I’ve managed to notice so far:

They can’t get enough of sinetron. I will be happier if they offer quality shows, but so far, I’ve been quite happy by laughing my ass off to the lousy acting by cute Eurasian faces, and the unbelievably funny plots (believe me, they are all so typical –not in a good way, I’m sorry to say). I think sinetrons were at their best only in the end of 90’s and early 00’s. Their qualities have been declining ever since, and I don’t think they’re gonna get better anytime soon.

I think TransTV could arguably be the best national TV station so far –together with Metro. Melikes the new show ‘Termehek Mehek’, a reality show which involves helping ‘clients’ to find their long lost relatives, lovers, or so; as well as spying on their clients’ cheating lovers –anything that has to do with clients’ calamitous situations. I liked both of the presenters (forget names), as they aren’t shy to get emotional, step in and confront people. Cool.

Infotainments are getting more competitive lately. Some of them involve presenters who read gossips as if they’re reading the most important ‘news’ on earth. Maybe even more important than the fact that Indonesia has entered recession or, that prices are on the hike (Silet, Insert Investigasi, anyone?). Terribly funny.

Talent reality shows are still in. And so is Cinta Laura.

I’m also happy to report that sapi is fine. So is RM. Our last date involved watching twoIndonesia movies in a day. I can’t get myself to write a review here, those movies aren’t worth any review (Merem Melek isn’t worth a watch, so isn’t Kawin Kontrak Lagi. Kawin Kontrak Lagi is better than Merem Melek. Merem Melek is the worst movie I’ve ever watched. That Miller guy was an eye candy though, ironically his acting was horrible. Poor eyes.). Sometimes I regret why good movies are not playing when I’m here (Kala, Laskar Pelangi for instance, and that movie in which Vino G. Bastian plays and with which he won the FFI Awards–forget title). Cripes.

Anyway, I’m good here. Will be back to Singapore on 4 January, morning flight. No choice. It was either 1st of January (which obviously I didn’t prefer) or 4th. Work starts on 5th, and I don’t even know where the office is (in fact, I think I know nearly nothing about the job –office attire, salary, etc etc). Jolly good. The first thing I’m gonna do after landing at Singapore is (boo, I’m not gonna tell you now), followed by doing laundry, and probably a hasty shopping of office attires (trust me I nearly have none). I long for a nice dinner outside with friends too. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure that I’ve been doing too well in Singapore that now I’m coming to miss my life there.

Hey, I miss my life there! Isn’t that quite a surprise?

before leaving sg

2008-12-12T04:00:00.010+08:00

By now I should have been either sleeping or writing for you a damn long, beautifully written farewell post – as I am going back home tomorrow. Instead, I’ve been totally blown away, enthralled by this movie I’ve just watched, and hence, couldn’t stop my fingers from clicking on the mouse, trying to rewind best scenes I’ve ever managed to behold in a movie. It’s The Shawshank Redemption.

For you the avid movie goers, woe is me. This movie has been up in the list of best movies of all times of almost every publication in the world which has ever published ‘best-movies’ list. I’ve been having the video in my file for quite some time now, and despite all the praise, wasn’t really moved to watch it until just now. And there I was: stunned and soiled, all for good causes.

I’m not good at writing review, so I shall pass. This movie is the thing you have to watch yourself, and if –after you watch it- you say that the movie isn’t beautiful, you are a non-human. Or simply, tasteless. Hint: my favorite scene was when the cons were watching the morning sky and drinking beers in the roof.

***

So, about me. Yes, I’m going back home tomorrow (or should I say today?). I’ve packed with me some good stuffs to get myself busy during this short break: books ‘Microtrends’ by Mark J. Penn, and the word-of-mouth title, an over-a-thousand-pages Ken Follet’s ‘The Pillars of the Earth’. They should be able to keep me quiet for weeks at home.

Yes, I’ve also managed to free myself from psychological torture I had to endure during ureca sessions –for this semester at least. And to my surprise, I’ve even managed to wrap it all in a nicely written progress report. Quite an achievement if you know how I’ve been doing with this project. Note for self: it is hard indeed, to work hard at days and play hard at nights. The work wouldn’t be completely done, and the play wouldn’t be all that fun. Spare a day.

That is just what I’ll do at home: spare some days. But I know things can go quite crazy sometimes during holiday, so I’ll pledge that during this holiday I shall not:

Be uncool.
Be unstylish.
Kill myself.
Kill other living things except for insects.
Destroy world peace.
Endanger conserved animals.
Make myself a rockstar.
Join pop idol contest –or another shabby reality show.
Runaway from home.
Fancy one –or more- boy band whose personnel consists of typical cute, ridiculously styled young men whose voices have more than enough power needed to generate a mini-disaster.
Fall in love with a man –or woman- in general.
Fall in love with a man, and thus runaway with him and drop my study.
Get married with a man –or more.
Get myself pregnant (if you’re not smart enough to take this as sarcasm, I don’t bother to explain).

On a lighter note:

To buy. That’s the result of the so-called ‘serious consideration’ I talked about on my last post. Paul Smith ‘Rose’. I keep a bottle now. I managed to secure quite a good deal and buy it online. Not as costly as it actually is in retail, but still it burned some holes in the pocket. This is serious: there would be a time for a young woman to get herself a perfume and start a life. I’m in it now. It was a no joke, casual shopping I did. I’m investing in a future (and by now you should have figured out that I’m this pathetic devotee of Coco Chanels’ words).

By now, I’ve been totally ensured that it was really make sense to covet ‘Rose’ in the first place. I’ve read mixed reviews: casual perfume buyers like it, critics hate it. But as a humble first-timer that I am, I like it.

Honestly, it’s not the best scent I’ve ever dabbed on my skin. Giorgio Armani ‘Sensi’, that is. So beautiful, sensual, and strong it is, I still can remember how it smelt like; even though my last sensory contact with it occurred around three years ago. I have never managed to keep possession of it. Believe me; having expensive taste doesn’t equal bliss at times.

So that’s all it. I may probably unable to get myself a proper internet connection at home, so expect nothing until I get my ass back to Singapore. In the mean time, pray for me a safe trip and a blissful holiday.

Adios, hasta pronto.

***

As a bonus, let me share my favorite quote from The Shawshank Redemption. This is the narration from my favorite scene. I could nearly feel myself shivering when this narration was spoken. The scene was beyond beautiful.

"And that’s how it came to pass that on the second-to-last day of the job, the convict crew that tarred the plate factory roof in the spring of forty-nine wound up sitting in a row at ten o’clock in the morning, drinking icy cold, Bohemia-style beer –courtesy of the hardest screw that ever walked a turn at Shawshank State Prison. The colossal prick even managed to sound magnanimous. We sat and drank with the sun on our shoulders and felt like free men. Hell, we could have been tarring the roof of one of our own houses. We were the lords of all creation. As for Andy, he spent that break hunkered in the shade, a strange little smile on his face, watching us drink his beer. You could argue he’d done it to curry favor with the guards. Or maybe make a few friends among us cons. Me, I think he did it just to feel normal again, if only for a short while."

Morgan Freeman as Red (The Shawshank Redemption, 1994)

***

I’m off.

On the playlist:

Hotel Costes vol. 5
Hotel Costes vol. XI
Christmas with the Jazz Legends
Smooth Satin Christmas

o holy days

2008-12-02T02:47:00.013+08:00

I said I wanted to give my body proper rest during this holiday. I lied. Facts are, I’ve been utilizing every bone and vein, every cell and limb to play hard as if there is no tomorrow. From clubbing to shopping to sun-tanning and enjoying lonely hours watching sunset in Siloso to strolling around Orchard Road with its tantalizing Christmas decors till wee hours in the morning to starbucks-ing, I got it all done. And it’s nice.

Days before holiday feel like yesteryears and gone are days in which I preferred to glue my ass to the chair watching shows or listening music. When I said I’d play it hard, I meant really hard. Some things I’ve managed to notice during crazy days and nights out:

Hanging out like there’s no tomorrow with people you don’t really know, or with people you barely know could be fun too. They won’t hang their shit on you –not applicable to all situations though, I’m afraid.

Music is ecstatic and your body is merely a cog when great music’s playing.

I might consider clubbing as a hobby given that free entrance is guaranteed.

It’s nice to meet old friends- for good old times’ sake.

Starbucks’ Green Tea Frappucinno serves as a good substitute of orange juice –for a beach day out purpose, I mean.

Vacuum cleaner is a great invention.

I wish it’ll be raining in the day when I’m free so I can just spend the day in room and have some tea and enjoy.

Wasting money is the source of all pleasure. This is a really personal and provisory statement. Thou shalt not speak out thy arguments on this issue as they will be highly unappreciated.

I need a make-up lesson. Like, really. And a good eyeliner which is cheap and won’t smudge.

I want to have a future.

I want to go back home instead of spending awful lot of times wondering why I am somewhere else but home by now.

Oh, ureca, that’s why.

I want to be a bridesmaid, somebody please get married.

I want to sleep early and get up early as well, but can’t.

I’m tired, but condition is reversible for a good day out with friends.

There was actually an awful lot of things I wanted to say but words just won’t say it all so let it be all kept in silence.

Christmas wish-list (not in order of preference –and even though I don’t celebrate Christmas):

Paul Smith ‘Rose’. Coco Chanel once said: “A woman who does not wear perfume has no future.” I replied: “Touché.” My first call which I thought was gonna be my signature scent -Giorgio Armani ‘Sensi’- is no longer produced. This is the second call; this must have been a sign from fashion god. I guess 146 bucks for a future – after living nearly 20 years of having none- will be money worth spending. In the present moment, to buy or not to buy is still a subject of serious consideration.

A treat to a nearby café -which plays good Christmas numbers- by a good old friend.

A good book, any kind of.

Island Creamery: warm brownies with one spoonful of ice cream on top. Darn you Lukas Hari Suryanata, thanks for the brag.

Starbucks’ Toffe Nut Latte. As I hate being a victim of capitalism, this one really tastes good.

The end of ureca. But since they sew the hole in my pocket, frankly I don’t have the right to complain.

duh

2008-11-28T01:04:00.007+08:00

Gila. Akhirnya keinginan gw buat leyeh-leyeh di kamar sambil denger lagu-lagu natal bisa kesampean juga. Paper terakhir gw selesai hari ini. TERAKHIR, sampe setaun ke depan soalnya gw semester depan attachment. Maka dari itu pantaslah kiranya selesainya iksem taun ini dirayakan dengan cukup heboh.

Cuma ya gw udah keburu capek duluan sih. Ternyata sekeluarnya dari iksem hall gw gk ngerasa se-happy yg gw pikir. Lagian badan gw udah tepar abis bok. Gw cuma tidur tiga jem. TIGA. Gak gw banget, buat Engineering and Society lagi. Wuwuwuw, bahkan buat subjek core gw aja gw masi tidur cukup gituh (eh, btw engsoc core juga ya). Buat situ yang ngajakin jalan dan akirnya gw batalin, maap ye. Beneran capek banget gw gila, mana pegel-pegel lagi gara-gara kelamaan ngeceng di IKEA…hehe. Next time, dude?

Ngomong-ngomong tentang IKEA, sumpah gw cinta Ingvar Kamprad. Puas banget tuh lunch dan keliling-keliling di sono. Kapan yah terakhir ke sini? Udah lama bangettttt. Duh, hari gini kayaknya perlu banget deh companies kayak IKEA gini. Gila aja cuma dengan 20an dolar gw udah bisa dapet seperangkat alat makan desainer gini. Keren anjir. Kalo kayak gini mah gw gk perlu nunggu sampe kaya dan beli home collections nya Versace atau Armani, hmmm. Giranglah gw dan rumet gw, sampe-sampe kami dengan noraknya pengen beli peralatan makan yg matching gitu. Saking girangnya bakat model rumet gw mendadak muncul. Hmm, mestinya tadi gw suruh dia pose yg provokatif dikit ya. Misalnya baring ala cover playboy di atas meja makan ato gimana gt.

Segini 20an dolar? Gimana gak cinta??

Rumet gw getting excited. Jangan liat poto gw, my hair looks like shit!

Besok pagi, uh, pagi pertama gw bebas. Rekan ureca gw yang gila udah gk tahan nyuruh gw cepet-cepet balik lab besok. Tapi gw tinggal aja deh. Paling ntar mampir bentar sejem dua jem. Hihi…maap ye part, Senen deh, Senen. Janji deh, gw bakal baca-baca previous reports dulu. Besok ngapain ya? Uh, kayaknya gk bakal bangun beneran pagi juga siy. Ini rumet dan tetangga ngajakin nonton ulang Orphanage. Paling siangan gw ngambil kue pesenan, terus pegi ngasih surprise buat the belated bday boy (okekah gw nulis gini? Gw assume dia gk bakal baca ini sampe besok as dia tadi udah bilang mau tidur). Malem diajakin ke Zirca sama si bday boy. Club baru pengganti MoS? Huff, MoS aja gw gak pernah pegi gitu loh. Gw mah anak rumahan –well keluyuran juga tapi gk ke club- yang cuma bisa ngeteh-ngeteh dan ngopi-ngopi. Bukan clubbers, dan gw gk suka minum. Duh, tapi gak papalah, just look around and have martini mungkin?

PS:

Setelah nyobain berbagai teh –okelah belom semuanya kok, gw ujung-ujungnya masih lebih suka black tea yg biasa. Chamomile yg lagi gw minum ini aneh banget rasanya. Duh, dasar gw nih suka sok-sok chicklit ;)

for one last time, please hang on...

2008-11-26T17:25:00.003+08:00

Here I am, sipping a cup of freshly brewed jasmine green tea: a form of support from the generous roommate who, by now, has been off and is on her way to regain back her stylishness and grace which had been ripped off brutally by exam.

And I haven’t finished all my papers yet.

The aircon is on, the tea is warm, lecture notes are all over the table. I haven’t finished all my papers yet. In fact, tomorrow’s paper –my last of this year- could be the most appalling, stomach-turning, among others I’ve had. I’ll never know. My clarity and spirit have been blurred by discouraging atmosphere of freedom radiated by the neighborhood. So I sip my tea slowly.

These things on the notes, all of them, I’ve never read before. I should have been panicking, but I’m not. Caffeine in the form of this cutesy little teabag, somehow, might have contributed to this superficial calmness. I don’t know. But I know I shall finish this by tomorrow, so I am of no worries. I love my arrogance sometimes. And my overly-set self confidence.

As I’m sipping the tea slowly, the conscious side of my brain tells my body, ‘take you time, dear. enjoy your tea. take your time.’ So my body does. Take her time and spare long minutes: praising the tea for its fragrance, its color, its taste, and so on. This is just a little act of pacifying, more of persuading I guess. Little does the body know that later the brain will utilize her badly to spend an agonizing night for the sake of tomorrow’s paper.

Cheh, sometimes I wonder who has the control.

‘take you time,dear. enjoy your tea. for tonight’s gonna be a long, long night.’

(brain to body, or vice versa?)

exam updates

2008-11-24T17:40:00.011+08:00

Okay this one’s gonna be quick:

Check this out! Gawd this peace is amazing.

Lost – Coldplay feat. Jay-Z

Coldplay alone is great tho. OMG OMG I love them. Come to Singapore again please please pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee would ya?

Had the once-bloody environmental engineering paper today. Me heart the lecturers so much for setting do-able questions -for Berlina’s standard at least (which is really very absolutely quite low if you reckon how I messed up with this subject during the whole semester). I could even leave the exam hall earlier -which was mostly because I could not think of any more things to write so I didn't bother to spend my time *wth*. Now I can pack the notes and shits (let’s assume that I pass the subject). Bye bye darling, touch you I shall no longer!

While fellas have already been singing in joy and caroling cheerfully in the elation of coming christmas, I’m still bounded by these two papers which I have to sit for in two consecutive days: foundation engineering and engineering and society. Fucking awesome. No worries, expect an awesome revenge right after I write the last word on my last answer book (of this semester).

These are what I’m gonna do after exam. First, go to beach and enjoy solemn lonely hours reading a good book, having orange juice, and enjoy the sunset. I really will. Then next, go to IKEA. Next, clean the room. Massive cleaning homework is on the way, and I and roommate have sworn to our lecture notes that we will transform our room into a goddesses’ chamber. Ok la, that’s me hyperbolizing. Next, St. James Power Station? Shisha? Bring it on dude ;)

(My ureca partner has just called me and asked if I would like to come back to lab right after the last paper. He’s not to blame. Actually we are still like having zero progress to our initial objectives and thus, need to continue the work in haste –despite efforts invested all semester long, that’s why I don’t like research- and worse still, we have a progress report due 15^th of December. But holy moly my body and mind need rest. A lot of it. I said, could we start on Monday please? They try to make me go to lab, I say no, no, no…*sing a la Amy Winehouse*)

Alrighty, please please God can You just give me more brain and numb my heart temporarily during exam period? Because I think the nervousness and panic attack are even more torturing than lecture notes and the paper itself, they’re killing me slowly. I need my coolness back!

Ok. I’m off. Saludos.

On the playlist:

Coralie Clement – various albums
Putumayo Presents: Acoustic French
La Caina - Head in the Clouds

that will do

2008-11-20T03:09:00.007+08:00

Oh God it feels like the night had never been as good as it is today for the longest time already. La Caina is on the playlist, the roomate’s sleeping and it’s cold and dark here, the kind that I like. Kind of reminding me to my old room back in Nanyang Crescent. Spanish notes and books are all over the table (I’ll have Spanish paper in like 14 hours time), a glass of the now-nonexistent tiramisu flavoured ice cream is on my left. This is just so good. No, this is not even a perfect day. It’s a bad, bad one. But I think sometimes we need a hit to remind us how good things we’ve already had are; to remind us that little things we’ve always ignored are not insignificant, and that small things you’ve never thought of can eventually make you day. Aren’t you amazed by the fact that stress indeed gives us human gazillions ways to be creative in finding our very own instant getaways from the craps and shits? I am.

And my getaway: La Caina on the playlist, a sleeping roommate, the coldness and darkness –the right proportion of. That will do. That will do.

On the playlist:

La Caina – Head in the Clouds by Café del Mar (2007)

Albums I want to have:

Putumayo: Women of Jazz
Putumayo: A Jazz and Blues Christmas
Putumayo: Acoustic French
any Bali Lounge's albums