Category: The Friends
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Almost the complete set
Mug’s sleepover with nine of us, making it the nearest we’ve ever got to a complete set!
Becky’s mom, as usual, fed us lot with amazing food. I can’t even begin to describe just how – it’s… we shut up for a good hour while we ate which is quite a feat for us. Pesto and salsa and anchovies-eggplant spread and baked garlic MUSSELS (THE MUSSELS!!!). And then baked cinnamon banana, Cat’s apple pie and Xin’s lemon curd for dessert with Island Creamery. Life, right then, felt complete. If there’s one thing we have in common unanimously as the Mugs, it’s food. And cam-whoring. AND THE FOOD, OH GOD THE FOOD.
Being a strange lot, we migrated north to, wait for it… reenact the exercises we did for Transience. And then there was a brief period where we collapsed and died in a food/stupidity coma before going into what we’ve been waiting for THE ENTIRE WEEK (like the losers we are)…
MUSICVIDEOX OF CALL ME MAYBE. This resulted in noise pollution and half an hour of us just standing in a row NODDING to the camera (No, seriously. We did that.) Eventually though we did manage to get a handful of clips where we essentially crazy danced and knocked each other aside to primp to Call Me Maybe.
When I said we nodded to the camera for half an hour. I meant it. Nodding:
That was the maximum amount of productivity we could achieve. Everyone basically flopped around after that outside at the porch couch (attempting to play Kung Fu Fighting! and failing). Eventually we tried very hard to be Sleepover-ish and engage each other in Intense Conversations Which Are Intense.
That means we ate copious amounts of cookies while trying to outdo each other in snarkiness. Well no we DID achieve a fair amount of INTENSE CONVERSATIONS THAT ARE INTENSE all the way up till 6am in the morning (with some perishing along the way and the sole survivor being Beni). The rest of us slept for about an hour and woke up to do, again, what we do best.
Eat. The cycle repeats itself: after breakfast we descended upon porch couch and just lepak-ed the entire afternoon away.
I’m not sure how normal, sane teenagers find time to dress up and prepare fancy stuff for their house parties/sleepovers.
It’s like we have some kind of deficiency that binds us helplessly to pajamas and nua-ing. The bursts of energy come about in the presence of FOOD and when we get excited over retarded single projects that involves being caught on film and appearing like hyperactive, slightly spastic children. Attempts at board/party games, standard Cool-Dancing or social interaction disintegrate and we spiral into very, very migraine inducing yelling and chaos and (the occasional horrific unexpected episode where we somehow manage to set off the burglar alarm).
By all these, I mean I enjoyed myself very, very, very much and I can’t ask for better company.
:-)
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this.
Between completing my applications, stocking up on smart-casual (I have a pathetic range of work clothes) and paying bills on AXS machines, I started reading my archives. What the Lord of the Flies said about a brighter childhood becomes relevant. I don’t know how this hits everyone – or when, but it happened to me this morning when I was eating a Kit Kat chocolate egg my grandma got me (they discontinued Kinder Surprises, you can only get them in German markets now), somehow fully expecting to see some kind of gimmick in it, but it was empty. And just like that I realized that I’ve been watching myself and my friends grow out of childhood. I don’t mean grow up. I mean grow out of something. Yes we unanimously still hold on to those childlike activities because as a group we are afraid of becoming jaded and boring. We do dance dares, we refuse to act responsibly, we watch Hannah Montana and make loud obnoxious sounds to defy the calm, steady tones adults are expected to have. I am somewhat grateful we have all that, a reminder that we can still have fun. But it doesn’t change that we’ve grown out of things that are much more than kidult activities. I have a photo of G and C in my phone, dressed up all wacky in our St. Nicks pinafores for their little hosting gig in the Drama Studio. Every time I see that photo (and I’m usually strictly non-sentimental), I get a strange feeling of loss. I’ve watched G face things no one should face in her two years, and without having to tell each other, we know something inside her would have changed. We grow out and learn things, learn that things we’ve believed without question for nineteen straight years might not be true. Don’t allow it to break us, hold on to one another, can only get stronger, but it is true that life isn’t as pretty as we wished it’ll be. I’m not terribly upset, I can only say it’s a pity – so this is growing up (out). Growing up, I have that. I’ve formed solid world views I spent years developing, I fully understand now what it is to love a friend (to feel concern for them more than you can for yourself), I can sense the center of control extending so strongly in my mind it scares me sometimes. I’m not saying I’m brilliantly intelligent, which I kind of am, but. If there is one thing my mind does well, it’s that I can categorize, compartmentalize, merge, delete, drag-drop, basically computer-function anything that goes through it. (G says, don’t over-rationalize too much) But I can’t help it. Because I know at the end of the day my mind is the only thing I have full control over, so I can’t possibly allow it to go. Archives tells me this thread of thought begun in mid-09, that was where I started to hoard and build a command center in my brain that would be absolutely infallible. That was my first sign of growing up/out. The first fully formed thought that nothing that happens to me can ever get to me. I mean, because I’m not a Vulcan (unfortunately), I still feel of course. But it takes me maybe half a day to get over things. To think it through so thoroughly I realize there’s no point sinking into it anymore. My logic goes like this. Yes you’ve done something I cannot forgive you for, but if I let it upset me – I’m the one responsible for myself being upset. Besides, it is your brain that has incited this wrong, this fault. Yes I am disappointed in you, yes I can now see you weren’t the mature adult I’ve always seen you as, but so what. It’s such a removed thing. You’re the one doing the wrong. I have done nothing, my mind has done no wrong, tripped no wires, breached no trust. As long as my mind is intact and unblemished, I can not care. This is how scarily it works, this is growing out. She tried to appeal to me; you wouldn’t know until you’re in my situation. I told her firmly no. It hasn’t happened yet but I have complete confidence I’ll never do whatever you have done – and I’ve never believed so strongly in anything I’ve said before. That was when I knew I’m finally done forming the beliefs I’ll keep from now on. Growing out. While my Vulcan-ian brain system scares the shit out of me, I’ve decided – whatever I cannot feel for myself, I do it for my friends. In a way, this has already been true for a while though I’ve never consciously registered it. How do you worry for yourself when you know whatever happens you’ll be fine? That’s needless worry. But I have no control over my friends and how they take things. I have influence yes, but because I’m not them I’ll always be uncertain of how things can go wrong for them. ‘Just tell yourself to stop thinking about it,’ ‘Don’t let whatever he says affect you at all,’ ‘Try to see it from this vantage point’, and they say yes I know I know, but I can’t. And when I so desperately want them to be able to, so they can be alright, I know it’s not something I can do for them.
There’s a lake where all things lost go and you have to dive in so deep that you feel like you’re almost crushed before you find it, hand it over to the friends you love and watch them put it on and they smile like they did five years ago and you feel like there’s nothing in the world that can take you away from this happiness.
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Transience.
So. We did it.
Everything is still incredibly surreal.
From three days to show with all our barang, to backstage, to right now.
WE DID IT, GUYS.
Where do I even start?
Some of us have known each other since we were 7, most since we were 13. Have gone through Drama classes for four years together, if not at least watched each other grow in our performances.
Had dreams like any other group of friends – ambitious ones: “Let’s put up a play! A musical! Self-directed! Self-written!” Did I believe we’ll actually do it one day? I did. Did I expect it to be anything like this? No.I’m sorry if at any point I get over indulgent with self-lauding, but right now, i’m just incredibly proud of us all.
To Gloria and Cleo, for their insane courage and amazing ideals. Without which this play would either a) not have taken place or b) taken place in a void deck. For their leadership and vision and sometimes unbearable workouts.
To Naddy, whom half of us only just met a couple months ago but now love so incredibly much. Thank you for being so strong – physically, emotionally, holding the (often crazyass and uncontrollable) group together with your calm and your insight.
To Celine, for your broken tooth and fractured foot, but also for bringing what is an important sense of realness into the play.
To Xinyi, our baby – director turned actor for your ability to be carried around and manipulated like a rag doll. Also for your house, your food, your witty asides.
To Becky, for being such a powerful performer (and I don’t think you even realize how much so).
To Cathleen, Rei-En and Dhimas – the best three-man crew anyone can ask for: for their nimble fingers and fleet feet, and basically doing everything for us.
And to me, for being a bright spark of brilliance as always.
How many teenagers (and thank God, this is my last year as a -teen) can say they self-devised and performed in a play they can truly call their own? Every scene is so much a product of everyone’s that when someone asks, Oh, who came up with this? I truly cannot answer them. It’s that extreme sense of accomplishment, of having DONE something you’re always always be proud of, and it being fully yours – some people spend their lives waiting for this. We’re very lucky.
Better yet, how many of us can say we’ve done this not just alone – but with people you have already known and loved for years? And who share your passion strongly, and are capable and driven enough to take action? We’re lucky also because we have each other.
People. People. We put up a show. In a real theater. Left to our own devices entirely.
None of us are trained dancers, or have had much experience with physical theater. But we did it.
Two sold-out shows.
Happy audience.
Happy us.
Two months. (And now it’s over. The withdrawal symptoms will be terrifying.)
I’ll briefly describe our rehearsal process right up to the play, with lots of people to thanks throughout!
For this we have our producers G and Cleo to thank – they organized all the logistics before roping us in (a cast of seven: G, Cleo, Celine, Me, Becky, Cathleen, Naddy. And Xin as our director). About mid-December we met up to discuss, it’s still crazy thinking back. At Pastamania where we were literally directionless, had no idea what we’d be putting up.)
Our time at Hong Wen School’s dance studio (courtesy of Xinyi’s VP mom THANK YOU SO MUCH). In the beginning we were all track pants and seriousness, but later it degenerated to (honestly) pajamas and slippers. Hours and hours we spent in there devising, scraping, experimenting.
Xinyi was roped in after (and we all became directors), but Cathleen unfortunately had golf commitments and dropped out (but came often to shower us with food). Later on we also bumped into the Goodman Arts Center (with a FRIDGE – we were ecstatic).
The play went through so many stages, and had grown so much in just a month.
Come to think of it, some may see these past two months as tough. Rehearsals every other day for long hours, and rehearsals are non stop experimenting and practicing (which means we are constantly moving – by that I mean running, jumping, lifting). But I don’t think I’ve ever felt grudging or reluctant. Sure, there’s always that few seconds where you wake up at 8am and think “What the hell. I could have been sleeping.” But once we’re in it, it’s actually… fun.
It helps that we’ve been friends for awhile.
All the inside jokes, all the falling on the ground laughing until we’ve exhausted ourselves, the hobo-ing on the ground eating tuna crackers, appreciating each other’s ideas and that exhilaration where together we find a sequence which works. And of course our neh neh exercises involving lots of HTHT and tears (and fries. and farts).
It wasn’t without obstacles though.
Towards the last week (where we had one entire scene un-finished.. YES. scary), things happened. We were over-budget (by quite a bit) for unexpected costs and ticket sales were slow for 3pm (which meant more losses). To be frank I’m quite the worriers so I internally panicked about all the money and was thinking “Why the hell are we doing this WE ARE UNPAID UNEMPLOYED STARVING ARTISTS NOW. IN DEBT.” For this, we have people to thank, and I cannot stop thanking them.
Most of all – the St. Nicholas community. Six of us were from SNGS, and we’ve always felt that whatever we are capable of now and who we are comes mostly from our time in St. Nicks. And we trusted that St. Nicks will be there for us when we needed them. It’s just a SN thing. We were not let down – in fact the response was astounding. We sent an email to the SN alumni describing our position, and in no time and all, many SN Jiejies had raised funds for us (from their own pockets) to partly sponsor our play. It’s with utmost willingness, without any doubt or expectation of returns, just with that distinctive St. Nicholas spirit to instinctively help each other.
The response we got from our donations jar and the spike in ticket sales after we sought help from friends (3PM SOLD OUT TOO), we credit wholly to the audience. Thanks to you guys we are NOT IN DEBT!
And then there was the problem of cast. Celine’s tooth got chipped for one of our later rehearsals during a particularly bad fall, and there was the fear of her leaving. A week before show. Imagine the angst. After we have calmed down (from bubble tea and stress-laughter and good news, tragedy struck again (the next day), where Celine slipped after rehearsals and apparently fractured her foot. Thank God it was a false report and it was just a tissue tear.
We also have to thank God, because I truly believe He helped us through all our obstacles. As a cast we were all pretty strong in our faith, and had prayed and prayed for everything that had gone wrong – and in the end everything was smoothed out for us in ways that’s nothing less of a miracle.
Bump in was surreal. The last time I had performed at the Black Box (with fancy bulb mirrors and dressing rooms and sign-in tags) was under Temple, where we were masked crocodile cheerleaders and part of an ensemble for a piece much greater than ourselves. This time, the play was ours. We were it.
Thank you G’s mom for the fantastic food and G’s uncle for the brillz photos (G BETTER UPLOAD SOON) throughout tech-run and recording.
AND THEN IT WAS SHOW DAY.
We met early at Xin’s house in varying shades of lethargy actually. Again I’m thankful for the dynamics of our friendship, because it calmed me down like nothing else. I KNEW we’ll always have each other’s back and until then we had our usual mocking thing going on to bring me back to the familiar. Make-up, taxi.
Stand-by. Warm-ups.
Neh neh exercises.
(One particularly got to me. I had trouble dealing with understanding loneliness to a deeper extent. The exercise required us to think of a moment where you felt a very real human connection. To hold on to it, want it forever. Naturally I thought of the Mugs, where we just loll around and be completely ourselves. Then G says, imagine you never, in your whole life, experienced this. How would life be for you. That was the part that broke me down really bad.)So and then.
Show.
It’s a 50 minutes play but it feels like 10 when you’re doing it, seriously. Maybe because there is no backstage and you’re literally performing every freaking single second so there’s no time to stop and think: HELL. THIS IS IT.
The 3pm crowd was great in that they really GAVE energy. They were very tense (“Cannot breathe.”) in a good way and responded amazingly. 8pm crowd had many, many crying – that one was slightly more heartfelt than intense energy.
While some of us were concerned more with what important theater veteran guests thought about it, I was way more worried about whether my friends would enjoy it. My perspective is that we’re doing a show not only for ourselves, but to give the audience (my friends and family) a message in a way that’s extraordinary.
8pm for me had the greatest impact. Maybe because it was the last show, maybe because we’ve rid of nervous energy at the matinee, maybe because we had good feedback from theater people and kept in mind the minute details that called for a more nuanced performance.
The craziest thing is this: we actually had a few technical screw ups – basically sequences we’ve drilled for ages. Strangely, I’m happy they happened. The group dynamics was so strong, so focused, we picked ourselves up immediately and convincingly, no one could tell. I felt that made me grow so much more as a performer than a thoroughly perfect run could have.
The audience were too nice, really.
Even the ones we thought would be critical thought it was “damn good”. Friends I didn’t think would appreciate it, did. We had constructive feedback from professionals about theater techniques of course, which I learnt a lot from. Maybe they were being nice because after all we’re a fresh new group of young people, but they gave a lot more compliments than we deserve.
My greatest fear was that people wouldn’t understand or enjoy it because it’s slightly less explicit (thus less accessible), but I under estimated the audience – they didn’t need to fully understand to enjoy it, they just needed to feel. Understanding comes later. In fact, by making it less explicit, many had original interpretations that applied to them personally, which probably makes it more relate-able than text-based. You can say we aimed to incite feelings/thoughts (viscerally), not to entertain.
Every time an audience tells me they could relate, they could feel, or that something made them cry (8pm had lots, for some reason), it makes me feel like everything, EVERYTHING is so worth it. THAT’S what I’ve been performing for.
My parents/relatives: “Now we know why you lost weight! Cause it’s like exercise the whole time! Climb here run there!” Which is their way of saying they liked it and that my time away from home was worth it.
Probably the most unexpected but common comment we’ve got from many, both professional and not: They want to see another show by us. Nad’s friend: “Please don’t let Pedestrian Productions die.” We were not planning to have another (didn’t even know if we could survive this one), so this came as quite a surprise.
Back in the dressing room Gee asked us seriously, Are you guys happy just letting this end here?
It was a unanimous no.
So, friends, we’ll see you again in the future. Maybe when we’re 60 and Celine with dentures and osteoporosis. But we’ll be there, and when we are please come back and show us the same support you have this time round.
To do something you love so much, with people you love so much. And for others to love the product so much (ok or at least not hate it).
I’m blessed.
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Schmaltz
while in bed today i experimented with how far back into my life i could recall.
it’s surprisinglyextensive – not specific events but just images; texture; feelings. i went as far back as two – not sure how common that is. then again, i was an insanely active thinker as a toddler. apparently i was quiet and obsequent.. probably because i was way too busy inside to bother with the real world.
anyway, i’m not sure how long these memories would hold, so while they’re still vivid let’s recount them. when i’m eighty (which will be entirely depressing – i’d hate to live that long into menopause) i can remember my 18 year old self remembering my 2 year old self. (although when i’m 80 we MAY be living in an autocratic world where the interweb is banned. obviously have been reading too much politico-sci-fi.)
ALRIGHT.
Age 2:
spending days in my nanny’s house.
– mattress is slightly rubbery with braille dots all over.
– laid there the whole day and if i fidgeted too much i get scolded.
– i called the nanny’s husband uncle-papa.
– they fed me milk and when i drank too slow they’d tap the bottom of the bottle really hard until i suckled like some over-starved piglet.
– a rainbow slinky.
anyway i remember just laying there like an abnormal child just thinking about life.
retrospect: i was obviously repressed from being a bratty, noise-producing two year old, therefore manifestations of hyperactivity in my current self.
Age 3/4:
i remember trying out different day-care centers. one was dark and small, neighborhood-ish. they had wooden puzzles with cut out shapes and separate wooden shapes you had to fit into the molds. that day it was a trial run, i played it with my parent (either). remember thinking: ‘what. this is too easy for me. i don’t like it here.’
somehow i ended up in Rosyth childcare. which (REALLY) was academically advanced (because when i went on to Kindergarten, everything they taught i already knew). plus it was a huge pink compound with a hugeass garden playground, like a real sandbox and huge swings and tyres and metal slides and playhouses.
there i had lots of memories spanning 3 – 4.
– a boy he was mixed and was really cute. he told me to be Yellow Ranger. he was White Ranger. i was pissed off because i wanted to be Pink Ranger. once he held hands with Lisa and started to nosebleed.
– Cassandra the bully. with the whole imaginary siblings sequence.
– January. years later i found out her name was Genevieve but anyway she was gentle and timid and we were friends.
– there was a girl born without nails. she had to take cold showers.
– all the teachers thought i was adorable because i walked in tip-toes.
– a boy, during mass assembly, yelled I NEED TO PEE, and pulled off his shorts right there. everyone laughed.
– we stood in a row during shower time and shampooed the hair of whoever was in front of us.
– there was a teacher who made the kids in the front row press their nails on her legs. i don’t know.
– the hot pink bikini escapade.
– i ate slowly and seniors would feed me choo-choo train style. no apples for me because i ate too slow. but lots of caramel sweets.
Age 5/6:
then i got transferred to PAP nearer home, where i became a manipulative tyrant.
– we had to read glossy thin books about animals and their parts – noses, eyes, legs. it was so simple for me, the teacher assigned me as helper so i went around teaching the other kids.
– i had a clique. there was a girl Fiona, some other girl i really liked because she listens to me, Daniel, and a Malay girl. everyday we play-acted.
– Daniel says, i am your boyfriend. he flashed his shoulder at me. it was the most horrifying, obscene white expanse of flesh i’ve ever seen. i screamed.
– we had to wear white hello kitty tank tops with blue trimmings and dance for some local performance. i said NO i will not do it. everyone says GOGOGO (a recurring pattern in my childhood, you’ll see). the teacher forced me to. i hated it because i was a wild monkey-boychild and i had to hold hands with a boy. boys always have boogers on their hands.
– we did computer art on MS PAINT trololol. i won an award.
– i loved the curry puffs (wednesday i think). and hated green bean soup.
– there was a teacher, Ms Tham. she was incredibly biased towards me. i told everyone that. no one knew what bias was. fools.
Age 7:
CHIJ Punggol which later became CHIJ Our Lady of the Nativity. if read out in whole: Convent Holy Infant Jesus Our Lady of the Nativity. where i was in CLEO CHEW and CELINE ONG’s class. i can’t believe people i’ve met when i was SEVEN are constantly in my life now. in fact i’ll be seeing them tomorrow, so i guess after this age there’s little need for recollection.
– an incredibly annoying indian girl named Teeviya.. or something. she was just crazyass wild and (I WAS MONITRESS) when i told her to STOP IT. she went ‘OR HOR YOU SAID STUPID’. i wish i did, really. she was very.
– there was Cleo’s club and Madeline’s club. i sat on Cleo’s table, she said – Ok Weiqing. now you’re in CLEO’S CLUB. you cannot play with Madeline and her club. during recess, last to reach the flag pole will be the loser.
– eventually i joined Madeline’s club anyway because they played Spider which was amazingfreakingly fun. so everyday during recess we played Spider.
– once, a group of uncouth indian girls from another class yelled the F word at us. we told the teacher. she read an story which was a twist of the Three Little Pigs. apparently all the wolf wanted was pepper, and his huffing was sneezing from pepper. then we ate sunflower seeds.
– at the end of the year we did a school play remaking some sleepy bear thing. or something. the drama teacher asked, who’s really funny! and everyone said ‘her! her! (me! me!)’ i said nonono-aw, alright! so i became the grandma who said ‘if you don’t sleep, i will SIT on you!’ i remember that. Celine was narrator.
this concludes the innocent half of my childhood. after this section, a tiny girl named Rachel came in and polluted everyone’s minds. by everyone i mean MANY PEOPLE, and we became a conglomerate of screwed up perverts who fed off each other’s strangeness and eventually when Primary Six rolled by, we were the WEIRDEST 12 year olds you would’ve come across. i have others to vouch for that.
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FAYNAHLEE
LIKE ALWAYS,
all the activities I engaged in while procrastinating became boring once As were over. Funny how I’d be desperate to finish a book (and usually will within a five hour study break.. if you can call it one..) during the period of As, but right now can only finish ONE novel in like, two weeks.
Right so I’ve been reading:
1)
as per Zephyr’s recommendation. Have been craving crime for ages (fueled by Castle, the Mentalist, and John Douglas) and Natsuo Kirino is apparently really good. Like all other books I’ve read written by Asian authors, it didn’t disappoint. I loved the extremely biased and personalized angles for the different characters – you can never know who’s telling the truth. Every character is flawed, twisted, and beautiful because of that. It deals a lot about aesthetics and (i guess) controversial stuff including incest, prostitution, bla. but honestly when you read the novel those aren’t the things that jump up at you. it’s really mostly about human failings. nothing is resolved in the end, though. you just get to know how everyone screwed up. it’s good.
Not much about crime, though. If you know any good crime titles PLEASE RECOMMEND. Maybe of the Agatha Christie/Sidney Sheldon variety? Actually, whatever, I’m a very non-discriminatory reader.
2) http://cracked.com. I love lists. I love lists. I LOVE LISTS.
3) Alright like I said I’ve only read that one book so far. :-( Am somewhat into Kiran Desai’s Inheritance of Loss.. but I keep getting bored, distracted or sleepy. NOT that it isn’t a promising novel. Next I’ll do Neil Gaiman and William Golding like a true book whore yes I promise.
And I’ve been watching:
1) You’re the Apple of my Eye.
Guy is cute. Ass is cute. Girl is ANNOYING. Yeah I know most guys are in love with her, but I have no idea why. Girl has got stick up her ass. Dude, who gets pissed over their boyfriend FIGHTING? FIGHTING. IS. AWESOME. It’s a badass sport that MAKES men. Every man must fight at least once in their lives or they aren’t men. You don’t cry and fuss and make your man run in the rain because you decide to spontaneously condemn what natural and, oh did I mention, AWESOME? ALSO HE HAS A CUTE ASS (BARE). YOUR LOSS.
But still, GREAT movie. Consistently hilarious and has a kind of irreverence that brings back a strange nostalgia. Will watch again for cute guy ass parts. I was laughing so hard I cried where the cute ass guy kissed the groom. Cel and Gee cried when they watched too, but for very different reasons.
2) STUDIO GHIBLI MARATHON at Becky’s.
Because Studio Ghibli makes only the most magical of films, like. Watched Nausicaa. I don’t know how, but Ghibli makes a bunch of huge city-devouring bugs and warships incredibly interesting. I feel like I know a greater part of the universe every time I finish a Studio Ghibli movie. So after that everyone wanted to watch Spirited Away which we’ve watched a gabazillionmillion times, so I pulled some votes for Grave of the Fireflies WHICH WAS SAD AS ALWAYS. ALWAYS. I LOVE THAT FILM. Yeah, actually that was all we watched HAHAHA.
OH and Date Night the morning after WHICH WAS SURPRISINGLY GOOD? I mean – Steve Carell and Tina Fey? Not a fan of either, but together they’re funny in a retarded way. Or maybe it’s the tight plot.
3) Rewatched: Easy A, Confessions, The Incredibles. THE THREE MOVIES I NEVER EVER SEEM TO GET TIRED OF EVEN AFTER REPEATED VIEWS. Especially The Incredibles. It’s amazing how many times I’ve watched it and still feel excited when it comes on TV. And that is when I have the DVD.
4) Watched half of Se7en. Because Rotten Tomatoes promised me it’s a good show. But I was NOT prepared for the gore, I repeat NOT. All the dead fats and spewing guts and blood and Brad Pitts, so I went on to else-things.
5) SUCH AS WATCHING MAURY’S. Which I spent the afternoon today doing. HAHA. HAHAHA. Please guys. You have to watch
TOP 10 SLUTS ON MAURY’S
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cz-wX2RiIc
AND. Top 10 Best Maury Moments 2009 (or any other year, really)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dP-JbmDMfk
6) Starting Castle over from Season 1. Finished all HIMYM, Big Bang Theory, My Little Pony and New Girl episodes – so now I’m just wasting away in a fetid circle of waity waitingness by my computer for the new ones. I’m such a loser.
So besides all that I’ve been living in the outdoors too, PEOPLE:
1) OK MAYBE NOT since I’m concurrently playing Pokemon Yellow, Sapphire, FireRed and SoulSilver. SOME HEAVY NERD-TASKING HERE, NO?
2) SLEEPOVERS -> at Xin’s and Becky’s has led us to the conclusion that we are the most ourselves and have the most fun when without undergarments. OK BUT THAT ASIDE, really. I think those moments of rolling around, giggling over nothing and everything, just chilling and pigging out, trolling each other, being at total ease – are what I’ve been looking forward to in the half a year preparing for As. happiness is just that simple.
3) SHOPPIN’. So far physical shopping has yielded little except a blouse and a dress. Ordered my prom dress online but it’s not shipped over yet ANGST.
4) BAKING~~~ at Vanessa’s where we watched hilarious videos on her bed, lolled around, and BAKED plastic-fumed brownies with gay icing. One of the best ways to start out post-As, really. OH and the gooey brownies were (y)
5) SPEAKING OF BAKING. I’VE BEEN EATING. SO. MUCH.
During As I might have forgotten to pig out as much as I do usually (especially with braces). Now with time and companionship, I’ve been travelling the island for FOOD. Also I think my parents think I’ve been starving myself so they’ve been subtly stuffing me up with ice-cream and pizza and fat kid food. WHICH I LOVE.
6) Had a productive meeting with the Pedestrian Productions group. Ok will keep you guys updated on that soon a’ight.
I PROMISE I’LL DO LOTS OF AMAZING THINGS SOON, THINK AMAZING THOUGHTS AND COME BACK HERE AYE-K?
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Strange starts young.
Talking to Celine triggered off memories of my childhood. I realize I’ve been strange and somewhat of a genius from a young age.
So now Math is over (taking my life away with it) as is International History, for stress/exhuastion relieving purposes, I’ll indulge a little by giving you a Bildungsroman you’re probably are not interested in anyway. Too late you’re trapped my words are holding a strange power over you. Read on.
Alright to begin you need a little context. I attended Rosyth Childcare in my earlier years – a relatively advanced nursery, slightly old in a posh way. What hasn’t changed is that I was cute back then. What has is that I was a lot, a lot less scary.
In fact I was the most harmless little creature you would ever come across. Pigtails and bangs and a stubborn habit of tip-toeing. Oh right, and I was VERY. VERY QUIET. Most teachers loved me because I was a silent but obedient little spazz, and also I was perpetually scared of everything which they probably found sadistically adorable.
Although it might also have been after that time my mom forced me into a BRIGHT PINK, HALF POLKA-DOTTED HALF STRIPED STRING BIKINI for swim class. It amused my teacher so much she made me parade around to show EVERY. SINGLE. CLASS. Like, literally we went outside each class and she’s laughs maniacally and says LOOK LOOK AT MY SKANKY LITTLE CHILD. This fully explains my exhibitionist tendencies now. DO NOT MAKE YOUR FIVE YEAR OLD WALK AROUND IN A STRING BIKINI. IT IS A GIVEN THAT SHE WOULD BE SCARRED, OR AT LEAST CATCH A COLD. That aside.
I was so harmless, in fact, that I became the target of bullying by this girl – whom forever I will not forget (and I mean seriously, I told myself explicitly always to remember her so when I’m grown-up and awesome I can laugh at her hundred pound weight gain and degeneration). So anyway, this girl’s name was – is – CASSANDRA. For a visual stimulant, picture an exceptionally nasty looking bulldog with a bob haircut. Yeah, you got it. That’s Cassandra.
When behind her in the morning assembly line doing the daily Macarena routine, she turned around and said in a bitchy way as a little bitch like her would: (THIS WAS MY FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH A BITCHY TONE K) Can you STOP blowing on my hair? I wasn’t. I was breathing.
SHE WANTED ME TO STOP BREATHING.
I have no idea why that one incident stuck with me, but she bullied me for the longest time possible (which I think meant about a couple of months). My mom had to come to school and point an umbrella menacingly at her to make her quit it. She didn’t.
Alright so you have to remember that I was a child with an extremely, extremely fertile imagination. It was also incredibly easy to reconcile fantasy with reality back then. The thing was I had TEN imaginary siblings (oh yeah I was sisterless back then), each having unique personalities and with whom I have vivid interaction with – ok in my fantasy but still. Whenever I got bullied by Bulldog Cassandra, I’ll be in the toilet after that telling my imaginary friends about it and pretending they can somehow right things or at least exact revenge.
YEAH OK? I WAS WEIRD.
Then my mom decided to transfer me to PAP for kindergarten, because it was convenient and Rosyth was out of the way (or maybe they heard me talking to self in the toilet one too many times and booted me out on grounds of insanity). I’m not sure how lucid five year old thoughts actually are, but mine were pretty damn articulate. I had lengthy internal monologues about how I’m to make sure I never, EVER get bullied again (and that I’d be the bully if I had to), and how I’ll entrench my dominance first straight and RULE THE ENTIRE PLACE. I know right.
Funny thing was, it worked. Partly it was because Rosyth prepared me well academically. But mainly because I was precocious and even as a kid my genius bits couldn’t help but surface. That was probably what I’d call the volta of my life, the social awakening, the maturation, my emergence from the crysalis. It was as if I suddenly understood the mechanisms of human relation and hierarchy, and also slowly recognized that I was different and special and intelligent and probably ten times better than most of the other dumb kids and a million of Dogface Cassandra.
It was pretty scary, but it was like I knew all the tricks to manipulating all the kids around me. I knew what to say or act to make them feel guilty or give in to what I wanted – and I mean I did all these consciously. Like, I KNEW doing that would make her worry or scared and I’d exploit all these nuances I gleaned to achieve my own ends. I know, I know. So through all my arm-twisting I broke the rules and allowed myself to be Lala in the Teletubbies Game even though the Club rules explicitly stated that I couldn’t be the Oldest Sister in Family Game if I were Lala.
Oh and also I used homework answers (mine were always right) as bribes for favors. Such as exchanging lunch break duty days so I get extra curry puffs (they were great) and skipped green bean soup (they were not).
Basically, throughout kindergarten I was a tyrant. Except no one knew because I did it in such subtle and implicit ways they just thought it was an obligation to make me happy.
Besides being adept at social manipulation I was also revolutionary. Currently I’m pretty intolerant of feminists because they’re usually PMSing, bra-burning, unreasonable women with shriek-y voices and un-shaved armpits, but back then I went through a phase where I was like WHY SHOULD I WEAR SKIRTS? WHY MUST I? I WANT TO WEAR PANTS LIKE BOYS ALL THE TIME. So I straight out refused to wear skirts. For about three years actually. Except for school. But I’m digressing.
After the first year, everyone pretty much got used to the idea that I’m their intellectual and emotional superior (I was), so I could relax all my scary child tac-tics. It was throughout that year that in addition to my discovery of how freaking easy it is to manipulate people, I decided that my X-Men powers of mind control can be used to serve different purposes – to be a total boss and work magic on everyone shamelessly so you’ll always have your way, or to use it for the good and only for the good of people you love.
The path I chose is obvious. RIGHT? I mean I’m totally peace-loving and benign right now.
Yeah. Mostly it was because of friends. I found friends I didn’t need to manipulate to be happy around, both in primary and secondary school. It was borne out of the need for protection and defense (from Dogface Cassandra), but I quickly found out I didn’t need it because a large majority of my circle are of people who are just NICE. I haven’t exercised my powers to gain personal benefits since, and I don’t think I can/know how. Also, right now I have no idea what point I’ve been trying to make all along.
I started because I thought some bits here and there were bound to make you think I’m freakier than I already am, which made for an excellent update post. But now I’m just revealing how much of a genius/altruistic person I am – which most people already know anyway.
Hm.
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i’nsane.
BLOCKS. ARE. OVER.
it was altogether such a terrifying experience there wasn’t much relief yesterday when it we were finally done with it. events after – lunch at ichiban-boshi, drugged out shopping, and scaling up the orchard central, was BIZARRE. plain bizarre. we saw colored men in bodysuits trying to drink (and failing because, well duh they were wearing FREAKING BODYSUITS). there was also apparently a cosplay fest we were uninformed of in our stint of reclusion, which was frankly quite scary, and then the star wars troopers and chewbacca and for some reason, sharity elephant, were leading a dragon-dance. i have no idea what happened, really. but anyway.
all i’m gonna do now is read. and read. and read. and eat. and watch billy elliot. also i’ll find some time to update more nonsense here.
challenge of the week: read 30 novels. because PRELIMSPRELIMSPRELIMS then As! here soon and i won’t find time anymoar arghswisshawahah i’m going mad.
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a thank you
life had been so amazing to me, it’s kinda hard to settle down and do work. i’ll try, but before anything i need to let you guys know how much i love y’all.
to my class, for being spontaneous and all-accommodating, for all the time we spend together in hell keeping each other alive.
[Here was, for a few hours, a photo so representative of our embarrassing escapades that I have been requested to remove it from the public eye. Sorry bbz!]
to all my crazy friends. i’m sorry for choosing only the really unglam ones. i also regret not being able to meet up with all of you :-( i srsly need more photos to prove that i have not one friend who is truly sane. WHERE ARE Y’ALL AND WHAT HAPPENED TO REDUCING OURSELVES TO USELESS EATING CAMWHORES. Also – why we have no photo of G’s bday.
to my CAP OG, thanks for being lovely and obedient babies despite me being probably only a year older and acting about five years younger. you guys were amazing and my only hope is that y’all had as much fun as i did.
and to cap’11 councillors, i miss you guys so much. :’-( all the nights we spent either wasted away by intense fatigue or watching epic balloon fights or debating over the merits of Justin Bieber’s existence and of course the aCAPella/report chiong-ing. is it possible to start loving people so much after 5 days? hoho anyway all y’all are beautiful.
and most of all my family, who taught me to face life and its challenges with good humour and altruism, and who never fail to practice the same themselves. for never grudging my constant muck-ups or demands.
THIS LIFE IS GREAT. BUT I NEED TO STUDY. D-‘:
Q 