Q

19

Obligatory birthday post~

So I’ve turned 19! Frankly it was pretty terrifying. To be this old. I entered 19 in pigtails wearing hobo wear and my dad’s slippers. Also with lots of comments about how un-19 I am.

There’s really no other way I’d like to spend my 19th. Just chilling~ with good food (and I mean SERIOUSLY GOOD FOOD) and company. Lots of noise and being a general nuisance to the public with inappropriate outbursts. Thanks all you lovely people for making this day extra special so I feel like the queen I am and everything.

Although I was at first reluctant and doubtful of my abilities to be a nineteen-year-old, I’ve come to realize that I’ve reached a very zen period of my life. Understand myself and the world more than I’ve ever have – mostly from knowing I have friends I can trust and depend on wholeheartedly, and staying grounded to what I believe in and love, etc. those cliches. I’m not usually this maudlin, but it’s true that I’ve never felt so much myself, and so comfortable with myself.

So, I guess while the dancing in public transports making troll faces and yelling naughty bits remain, I am kind of ready to be nineteen.

January 20, 2012
Pedestrian Productions Presents: Transience

So about these Rehearsals I’ve been going on about for awhile…

A physical theater play put up by a cast of seven 18 year old girls. It explores the state of being alone. It may sound cliche, because c’mon, who doesn’t think about loneliness. But through devising we found ourselves repeatedly back on Ground Zero – an individual in relation to others and the process of making and breaking bonds. Instead of exploring wide, general themes or trying to show our audience something new, we’ve taken to show what we all would have experienced at some point. Maybe even everyday. From there we pursue depth of exploration.

What to expect: It’s based on a specialized form of theater – physical theater. Whatever we want to convey will be done so through raw movement. Speech is minimal. Come prepared to just feel, understanding comes later after thought.

If you’re interested in theater, especially that of physical movements, come watch us! If you’re not that into physical theater but are a good friend and would like to show support, please come too~

11th February! 3pm/9pm!

Ticket available at:

1) WWW.GATECRASH.COM.SG
2) GATECRASH HOTLINE- 6100 2005
3) SINGPOST OUTLETS
4) S.A.M KIOSKS
5) STB TicketCube @ Orchard

More details here!: http://www.facebook.com/events/294182250632784/

January 10, 2012
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.

January 10, 2012
top 7 favorite literary symbols (as of now)

so i’ve been wanting to do this since after Lord of The Flies and my obsession with the image of the Conch Shell, but managed to put it off till THE NEXT YEAR. YES. WHICH IS NOW.

before that – thinking back to what i’ve read was a pretty amazing journey in itself; i’ve forgotten just how many great books i’ve come across but eventually stopped gushing about. essentially i sat in front of my screen and stoned for awhile but trust me, my inner self was having lots of fun prancing about neurons in literary goodness. trends i’ve observed while excavating best loved symbols:

a. quite a few American classics of the 1950s+- variety, although they take up the least percentage in my reading list. the ang mohs are big on lit devices, i’ve heard.

b. a great lot of them have made me cry. or at least really, really sad after reading them. i point this out as an anomaly because i usually feel happy about books no matter the ending. in fact deaths can be quite satisfying because at least they close the story. these ones are sad in a way where it’s just pervasively upsetting throughout the novel because of it’s underlying message.

c. the ones i’ve chosen are pretty.. STRANGE. my internal journey/external stoning came across many mirrors and water and skulls which i actively avoided. over-usage is such a pity, because pretty things that are just SO. PRETTY. but lose their value as cliches.

d. a lot of books from my childhood. i need to start re-(re-re-re-)reading stuff. for purpose of this exercise i dug out all the books below and it took me quite awhile – very telling of my dying reading habit. also, i can’t find my copy of Wrinkle in Time which is depressing.

YES.

TOP 7 LITERARY SYMBOLS
(AS OF NOW)
(of book i’ve read so disclaimer: this list is far from comprehensive and/or representative of the general public)
(in chronology of my reading them [roughly])

1. The Tesseract – A Wrinkle in Time

i think i read this when i was way too young. still, enjoyed it because of it’s images (which i vividly recall thinking was ‘special’) and the adventure-y theme and plus i LOVED Charles Wallace (i have a thing for precocious boy genius and scary manipulative doll-like girl [Reiko’s piano student in Norwegian Wood brought that out perfect] type characters).

anyway, i started understanding it with age and MAN. this shit probably brought out my life-long interest in sci-fi despite my ineptitude with the sciences. also i was very angry with freaking Mia Thermopolis that whiny piece of princess who went on for five hundred books about her flat chest and multiple boyfriends (I HATE HER) for alluding to Meg and how she could empathize with her FLAT. CHEST. screw you Mia Thermopolis. this is not a book about chests. where there are Tesseracts and The Black Thing concerned, there is no time for you, your neurosis, and your stupid chest or lack thereof.

wow THAT was a plentiful digression.

maybe an odd choice for a symbol, this Tesseract, given it’s very scientific nature. but still, L’engle to me is telling much more than sci-fi. the elusive Dark Thing is an ambiguous representation of Evil, while the Tesseract (obviously), for good. in my case i’d like to see it as a representative of religion. why.

the Tesseract (basically the fifth dimension which allows travel through space), is presented as wholly possible in the novel. yet, because it is not yet experienced, people do not believe in it -in fact they CANNOT comprehend it (such as Meg who understood it for only a fleeting second after given a description). then there are the believers, the natural understand-ers, Charles Wallace and Meg’s parents, who fight to ascertain its truth. if you’d like to take it out of the religious context, let’s think of it in terms of Goodness. Goodness in itself can defeat the Black Thing and enables men to do what was deemed impossible (space travel). Meg (general people) is blessed with Goodness from her family, but herself cannot understand it and thus did not believe (until she actually space travels that is).

i love it. isn’t it just beautiful. the incomprehensibility of Goodness (complicated workings of the Tesseract), it’s undeniable existence (they did space travel all through the novel), people who fight for Goodness, people who understand and believe in Goodness defeating the Black Thing with this belief. it does sound elementary when i put it in those terms, but that’s it. it’s such a simple message, such a crazy adventure. dude, i need to read this book again so badly.

2. Rose – The Little Prince

a symbol of human relations, and despite the somewhat commonplace usage of roses; the Little Prince tells it with such truth. almost all of us have had a Rose in our lives. someone you go into an intimate friendship with the dynamics of power being obviously imbalanced. both are aware of this situation, but take great (almost comical) pain to side-step it to please the one of higher status. this is what we’d call a poisonous relationship, which the Little Prince realises: he starts to doubt her and thought that one ‘ought never to listen to flowers’. what is surprising here is that in exploring this relationship, the Little Prince concludes it was because he was ‘too young to know how to love’.

the most poignant scene, perhaps, would be the scene with the rose bush and later on the Prince’s realization that the Rose was of such importance to him because she was tamed by him. yes, the Rose is vain, she did hurt the Little Prince, but by mere virtue of having formed a relation with him (tamed), she continues to be loved. novels usually pursue the process of extricating oneself from a relationship deemed unhealthy. but the Little Prince recognizes that it is not possible, because human relations are more complex than a measure of what is beneficial for you and what isn’t. it’s about the bond that’s been formed and will last despite vanities, despite manipulation or hurt or doubts.

3. Switchblades – The Outsiders

ok this is here first and foremost for being badass. back when i was a lesbian (i’m kidding, but i was quite a wild monkey-boychild), the Outsiders inspired tremendous feelings of loyalty and courage and general baditude in me. although i also cried and cried like a baby when Darry and Ponyboy made up. i’m a sucker for sad family scenes. i also wished i had a buff older brother like sodapop/darry.

anyway, it is kinda lame, but that is it. blades are just a symbol of being incredibly wild, which i found to be unendingly fascinating. i think only Johnny and Two-bit had switchblades, and they were supposed to be very tough. Two-bit’s: ‘jet-handled.. that would flash open at a mere breath’. but he’s never used it and was only there as a ‘showpiece’. that’s the pride and crazy sophisticated sexyass violence the Greasers had, symbolized by the switchblade. best bit though: ‘Dally knew how much the switchblade meant to Two-bit, and if he needed a blade bad enough to ask for it, well, he needed a blade. That was all there is to it. Two-bit handed it over without a moment’s hesitation.’

if you’ve read the book and also are very much in love with gangfights and badass boys, you’ll understand the attractiveness of the whole switchblade concept. it’s dangerous, powerful, for show. it’s just the appeal of getting up there and fighting it rough and having a life on the streets of living and breathing every second and the extreme pride you’ll never compromise. and then there is the love they have for each other as friends, that they call each other brothers, and would relinquish their prized weapon – representative of their identity – to another in need.

S.E. Hinton makes the Greaser life so incredibly appealing, i’ve always kept a secret desire to join a gang. contact me. i’m very hazardous especially with a floorball stick.

4. Billboard Eyes – The Great Gatsby

this symbol is genius for being meta-everything. as a symbol, it explores the absurdity of symbols. George Wilson sees the large eyes on the billboard as God’s judgment but was mocked by his friend who points out incisively that it is ‘an advertisement’. he highlights that it is Wilson himself, a religious melodramatic emo suffering from a staggering need for pathos at the point, who instills his own misgivings and consciousness on the billboard – making it the Eyes of God as we would eventually see it in the novel.

basically, in the Great Gatsby, a character makes an object the symbol but was later exposed to have given meaning to the meaningless.. in the novel itself. i think it’s trying to bring out the ambivalence of perspectives and sometimes, it’s complete vapidity and pretension. it’s not a brilliant message in itself, but the brilliance lies in it’s meta- and that Fitzgerald quickly controls the search and usage of symbols in his novels before his readers can, a mark of a skilled writer i should guess.

5. Hedwig – Harry Potter

alright i admit i didn’t recognize this until i read it online. but apparently, HEDWIG. SYMBOLIZES. HARRY’S. INNOCENCE. actually i read this off harrypotter wikia which i do for all hp characters. Hedwig’s death is a symbol for Harry’s loss of innocence as he came of age. WOW. tragic.

although if you ask me, i’d much rather liken it to protection. Hedwig was given to Harry by Hagrid as came to discover the magical world and later the truth about his parent’s death. this justifies his first need for psychological dependency. Hagrid is a huge paternal figure while Hedwig becomes Harry’s correspondence to his magical pals and gals + Dumbledore (also protectors), including Sirius, another father figure. so Hedwig becomes a feature much associated to those who’ve always been around to help Harry through almost everything.

in fact, much as i love him, Harry is a complete wuss who enjoys angsting, tries to be self-sacrificial but does little to preserve his life. his dependence on Hagrid, Dumbledore, Sirius and all of the Order shatters (or at least the understanding that he CAN’T anymore). this eventually culminates in Harry being smart enough to outwit Voldemort (still, with help from the unlikely Narcissa Malfoy.. OH WAIT and Neville). isn’t that a much better interpretation, though? Hedwig dies, Harry realizes that he’s by himself. no more convenient heeding of advice or call for help. ultimately he began to deal with Voldemort like a real man.

6. Red Hunting Hat – Catcher in the Rye

Holden, whose one ideal in life is to preserve the innocence and truth of childhood, becomes the catcher in the rye. basically there’s a huge rye field where children play. eventually they fall off the cliff of happiness into adulthood which he alludes to death (of purity and honesty). Holden sees himself responsible for preventing this. the hat represents the role he has taken up.

the flip side is that Holden himself has lost that childlike veracity. he is critical, confused, and a self-confessed hypocrite. this is where the wonders of symbolism take shape again, and Holden passes his Red Hunting Hat to Phoebe. while Holden previously was unceasingly critical of adulthood and society, even messing up his life – which he found pointless – Phoebe understands way more. Phoebe is a child but at the same time perceives the hypocrisy of life (conceivably through Holden). but BECAUSE she is a child, Phoebe possesses a kind of hope Holden has lost. she sees that life is worth it despite all.

Phoebe becomes the catcher, in fact, Holden’s catcher. she brings him from the cusp of depression (i think?), redirecting his immaturity to find a balance between the workings of adult society and that of childhood purity. it’s just a good book in general, and the hat is much better a symbol if you read it than if explained.

7. The Conch Shell – Lord of the Flies

https://dopaminedaze.wordpress.com/2011/08/11/why-lord-of-the-flies-is-a-classic/

Conclusion:

I’m hungry.

January 8, 2012
It’s 2012!

January 1, 2012
Resolutions v.2012 (I intend to keep)

Intended to do a post running through my resolutions for 2011, and if I’ve kept them. But archives tell me that I ‘kept private’ most of them, except for one: be nice to people and babies.

Well ok, besides the occasional urge to eat them up (affectionately of course), I’m mostly (and freakishly) nice to babies. About the people.. I haven’t killed any so yay.

ALRIGHT, SO. Resolutions du 2012

1.

Be nice to all people – even the annoying, the fat, the ignorant, those oblivious to proper usage of grammar, and of course babies.

2.

FIND A JOB. so i can fund my increasingly unsustainable lifestyle without feeling guilty.

3.

Volunteer. With kids or dogs. Maybe old folks.

4.

Wean off the Mugs. Because we spend virtually all our time together, and because next year everyone will be busy or overseas. Our separation will either be sudden and frightful, or – if we work on being independent – exciting.

5.

A-Z food trail.

I’ve done Apple Pie a la mode, courtesy of Geegee. Next, B. Any suggestions?

6.

WRITE. please. this needs to be done. Okay and read, though that I’ve been doing. Basically to strengthen them neuron networks while I still have the time and energy.

ALSO to start reading up on science so I can be awesome and all-rounded.

7.

Stop trying to get a tan.

I’m always between OKAY LET’S GET A TAN AND LOOK LIKE A MALIBU BEACH BABE, or OMGATZ I’M NOT THE CAST OF JERSEY SHORE IMMA GET SKIN CANCER. So after some intense tanning early this year, I discovered I’ve developed a whole score of fresh moles on my arm. Celine says that’s dangerous – then again she’s hypochondriac.

ANYWAYS, my natural shade is pretty light so let’s just keep it at that instead of messing around with color.

8.

Grow my bangs out. Because I’m not 5-years-old anymore (after about 13 years stuck at that age, yeah). Although I stand by my belief that bangs are adorable on me kthnx.

9.

REGULATE MY BOWELS.

10.

I’ll come back with a good one.

December 29, 2011
White ghosts.

Hi guys.

3:08AM in the morning/dead night.

Rehearsals tomorrow at 10am. Yeah I’m crazy and also heavily insomniac. Considering I’ll be up the whole of tomorrow night, I’m pretty much screwed. So right now I’m playing online Reversi with Daphne, whom I suspect just chugs down so much sugar she doesn’t need rest to function.

So it happened like this.

After a day of wandering around and getting stuck on the North-South line, went to support JR for her church event where she sang smack in the middle of Orchard Rd. I got home really hungry so I found a bunch of GOLDEN OREOS.

Which are seriously addictive.

And ate a bunch of them. Moral of the story: I tried to sleep and everything up there’s just crazy. It’s impossible to sleep. So I have given up on sleep. Something I have not done before. Hopefully after rehearsals tomorrow I’ll get to crash for a few hours before going out again.

It’s fine though.

As were amazing in that EVERYTHING after just becomes bright and beautiful and nothing much can bring me down. Stuck in the rain -> Oh well at least i’m not stuck at home studying. Can’t sleep -> It’s k no exams tomorrow. MRT breakdown -> Let’s just chill I have much youth and time.

Yeah okay and Daphne just owned me at Reversi.

December 21, 2011
Supdate.

I know I have not been updating for AGES and AGES. Usually that means I have a life.

Although I’d like nothing more than just mooch around the house, really. Oh I HAVE been very into reading and watching crime related stuff though. It does nothing much but bring lots of paranoia and induced trauma into my life. Also I keep reading other’s body language and speech and/or profiling them unnecessarily.

That aside, PROM.

With the girls~

And then there was Post-prom where all the repressed communists came to life. I’m kidding but not really.

OH YES GUYS. I’M LOOKING FOR A JOB. Preferably something that pays reasonably well LOL. I am young and strong, I fear not dogs or cats (and I like wild animals), I can carry plates but whether food on it will remain after contact with me not guaranteed, I can speak fluent English (sometimes hindered by braces) and about half-sentences of Mandarin. I can teach anything except sciences, also not afraid to make lots of noise in public. Ideally you can make me a food-taster with about 2,000 per month?

But anything else is fine – TELL ME IF Y’ALL GOT LOBANG PLSKTHNX. Because if I continue to eat at this rate and variety, I need extra moolah.

December 17, 2011
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?

December 4, 2011
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.

November 12, 2011