The External Agent

Oops, Sudden Realisation

2006-06-17T21:48:00.000-07:00

Haha, I just realised that I haven't update this blog since... forever? Close.

Something to mention... I have another blog, where I mostly post my works of fiction and pseudo-fiction. The thing to be noted here is that I prefer (strangely enough) to write stories than to simply converse via blog posts. But I don't mind writing, if there were people listening. There isn't, usually, but I don't mind.

For courtesy's sake: www.livejournal.com/~Andropovka

Go read it. The stories are not really arranged, and some are actually fanfiction... But check out the pseudo-fiction. Partly real-life and partly fiction, my imagination runs wild...

Also on the 27th... the Tragedy Never Ends

2006-03-28T17:19:00.001-08:00

Also on the 27th...

Other misadventures on the first day of NJC enrichment week…

8:00am, Arts Education Programme B, East-West Gumbo!

Generally, a presentation of dances in early America, ranging from the Cakewalk, Lindy hop, early disco, tap-dancing and any number of Afro-Anglo variations through the ages. Two lady dance instructors came by from YMCA Singapore to demonstrate the Lindy hop.

I hope never to see such a sight again in my life. Or, more realistically, hope to have more mental preparation before seeing someone my mum’s age dancing so violently. I feared for the dancers, who might have popped a hip at the speed of those turns and jumps. A very remarkable demonstration, them being dressed in tasseled dresses, bob haircuts with glittering headbands, dancing jaw-droppingly spectacular and utterly embarrassing moves. The dresses were short. They had a slit allllll the way up here and they were doing split and jumps as if their mothers wouldn’t somersault in their graves. And… and … they were my mother’s age! That’s bloody old!

And so, to help them make the concept of dancing the violent Lindy Hop more acceptable to the rest of the sedentary NJCians, I volunteered to go onstage to learn a few of the more decent moves. Big, plucking mistake.

Upon standing on stage, I felt my knees quiver, despite vigour in my breast. I had neglected my past history of stage fright. To make things even worse, the sub-zero air conditioning, of which I had been grateful for, gave me cramp.

Not singular. Plural.

Cramps. Both legs. Cramped.

Bloody pshitting hell. And I was supposed to dance that?

And then we did some moves which involved leg lunges, leg crossing, jumping and splitting, leg movements...

I almost died.

I tottered offstage after the damage was done and didn’t manage to walk properly for the rest of the day. I think I strained both legs. And it doesn’t help the fact that I had a hip-hop lesson later that night, one run by a slave-driving, overly flexible commando. I’m not kidding. The dance instructor is really a commando. SAF-trained. You can even use him as an anatomical model to see all the muscles. ( interesting to look at, but not my type.) But we’ll get to that later.

At around 3:00 pm, there was a ‘How to Enhance Your Body Using Lingerie’ talk.

I seriously signed up for it because I wanted to see the discipline mistress talk about that. I’m not kidding. She is notorious in school for being a stickler for decent dress and school rules. I suppose you have to, being the discipline mistress and all that. She’s nice, but can give a hell of a scolding (and punishment) when the situation calls for it. And she used to be a body-builder/tracker or something like that? Gosh. Talk about a colourful history! Who would miss the discipline mistress giving a talk on lingerie?

But then, as fate would have it, she was just in charge of the talk. The actual presentation was given by this two ladies from Triumph International. The lecture theatre was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. And a nervous giggle. And the paranoid turning of neck to see if any guys were sneaking in. (Was thinking of trying to sneak a classmate in, but I wouldn’t risk the wrath of the D.M.) Turns out I didn’t pay so much attention to the talk as I did trying not to swallow loudly in the silence.

Seriously, the boating course was so much more interesting. But damn, I think I missed some useful tips there… Young girls like us must learn how to attract the opposite species. Seriously. If humans weren’t sexually inclined, there wouldn’t be a problem of overpopulation, what’s more us? And I am 18. And as crudely as I can put it, as horny as a hormone-charged female can possibly be, being absolutely obsessed with sex. But thankfully, logic stays my hand. I AM A REASONABLE CREATURE. But still a creature obsessed. (winks)

Tips (Which may embarrass guys, but that's their own fault if they want to read about Lingerie)

Beachwear

If your top is bigger than your bottom... Wear a padded top which covers the sides of your assets. Match top and bottom patterns or colours.
If your bottom is bigger than your top...Wear a padded patterned top with a plain bottom. Also, bottoms should preferably cover the hips, i.e. not low slung as this attracts attention to the lower regions.

Daily wear

Best colour for all clothes... Skin tone colouring. White is a mistake as it stands out more under a white shirt.
To avoid pantylines... Wear a g-string (o___O)
To wear halter-necks or various cuts... Ask the saleslady. They have cuts for no straps, single strap, halter neck and etc.

Arrrrgh. I can't remember. Nevermind.

NJC Enrichment Week, An Ominous Start

2006-03-28T17:19:00.000-08:00

27th March

Yesterday was the start of the NJC enrichment week, in which all the students get to sign up for courses that have absolutely no relevance to academia, for the mere fun of it.

I went for a Boat handling course, and thus now know how to tell the front from the back in daylight, and how to tell the front from the back in pitch darkness. And it’s not called the front and back. It’s called the bow and the stern. And at least I won’t run aground on coral/rocks, and if we ever capsize (through utterly no fault of my own) I would have been driving sensibly in a place in which we can be rescued or be swept to shore, notably not gallivanting around like some foolhardy idiot who fancies the thought of reenacting Lost, Survivor and all the other tragedies that involve a ship, sinking, handsome and beautiful survivors and probably cannibalism.

Note to self: Avoid entering the water at all cost when in the vicinity of known natural reserves of marlin (a whacking huge fish with a wickedly sharp, long snout), sharks ( also whacking big fish with a toothy grin) and barracuda ( surprise, surprise, speedy, big whacker with razor-sharp pearly whites). Why humans are constantly presented with a friendly nip, this is something my curiosity can remain unsatisfied about.

What I have learnt... (straight from the notes)

Glossary of Boating Terms

Bow: Front of vessel
Stern: Back of vessel
Aft: At or near the stern (back)
Forward: Towards/near the bow (front)
Ahead: In front of the vessel
Astern: Behind the vessel
Knot: A speed of 1 nautical mile (1.8 km) per hour
Underway: Not at anchor, not made fast to shore, not run aground (or in other words, still. Must satisfy all of above conditions)
Port: The left, when facing forward (or, the alcoholic beverage )
Starboard: The right, when facing forward
Wash: Waves created by the vessel’s passage when moving (also the command when in charge of the dishes, laundry and dog)

Vessel Parts

Bow: The front
Quarter: The part before the stern
Anchor: Weight
Anchor cable: Strong chain attached to both vessel and weight ( also, not attached to one idiot.)
Gunwale: The upper edge of the vessel’s sides
Hull: The body of the vessel
Freeboard: The height of the hull above the water
Draught: The depth of the hull in the water (or entire of ship when sunk)
Helm: The steering wheel
Wheelhouse: Enclosed structure containing the wheel, compass and controls
Flying bridge: Open area above the wheelhouse, usually fitted with a secondary wheel and other controls (unfortunately also the area, when faced with an abrupt stop, the launching point of flight. No misnomer.)

External Aids to Navigation

Buoys: Floating markers anchored with chains ( can also be said with a sigh and a roll of eyes)
Beacons: Conspicuous fixed markers
Lighthouse: House, with a particularly strong, er… light.

Types of Buoys and Beacons

Lateral: Port Hand Marks ( red, cylindrical can), Starboard Hand Marks (green, conical pillars)
Isolated danger: Black and red horizontal bands with a black double sphere topmark
Safe water: White and red vertical stripes with a single sphere topmark
Special: Yellow with a single yellow cross topmark (X) ( obviously notable for something but to find out without getting nasty surprises such as pufferfish affections, refer to a navigational map)

Important Lighthouses ( within Singapore waters)

Raffles Lighthouse: South of Pulau Senang ( White light, flashing 3 every 20 sec)
Sultan Shoal lighthouse: Western Anchorage ( White light, group flashing 2 every 15 sec)
Bedok Lighthouse: Laguna Park ( White light, flashing 1 every 5 sec)

*Flashing, not exposing nor streaking. Also no naked lighthouse keepers. Usually.

Important Restricted Islands

Pulau Senang, Pulau Pawai, Pulau Sudong: Southern Islands, SAF Live Firing Areas ( anything is a target, no kidding.)
Pulau Tekong: SAF Training Area. Largest offshore island. Restricted by SAF Regulations but not under Port Regulations
Pulau Brani: PROHIBITED. Naval Base. Shoot on sight.
Pulau Seraya: Part of Jurong Island, largest power station. Very prominent due to 3 towering chimneys with strobe lights (obviously not meant for disco.)

Unrestricted Islands

Pulau Sebarok: Fuel Storage Depot. Caution to be exercised when anchoring due to marine pipelines.
Pulau Tekukor: (nothing notable. Small. Don’t run aground.)
Pulau Serangoon: Designated mooring for barges and local fishing trawlers
Pulau Seletar: Designated area for water sports

Sound Signals

* = short blast of 1-2 sec
_ = long blast of 4-6 sec

Note: Intervals of not more than 2 min

* : Altering course to starboard
_ : Altering course to port
_ : Vessel making way
_ _ : Vessel underway
_ _ * : Overtaking on starboard side
_ _ * * : Overtaking on port side
_ * * : Dangerous vessel making way ( or dangerous driver making his own way)

Light Signals (on vessels)

2 white lights: Vessel at anchor
2 red lights: Vessel not under command (mechanical failure)
2 red, 2 white lights: Vessel run aground
1 red, 1 white lights: Vessel engaged in fishing

The More Important Rules for Avoiding Collisions at Sea

Rule 9:
A vessel proceeding along the course of a narrow channel or fairway shall keep near to the outer limit of the channel or fairway which lies on her starboard side as is safe and practicable.

Rule 13:
Any vessel overtaking another shall keep out of the way of the vessel being overtaken.

Rule 14:
When 2 vessels are meeting at reciprocal courses so as to incolves the risk of collision, shall each alter course to starboard (right) so that they pass each other on their port side.

Rule 15:
When 2 power-driven vessels are crossing so as to involve the risk of collision, the vessel which has the other on her starboard (right) side shall keep out of the way, and if possible, avoid crossing ahead of the other vessel.

Rule 16:
Every vessel shall take early and substantial action to keep well clear of another vessel

Rule 18:
A power-driven vessel shall keep clear of:
a) a vessel not under command (mechanical or human failure)
b) a vessel restricted in her ability to maneuver
c) a vessel engaged in fishing
d) a sailing vessel (wind-powered)

Traditional Wisdom Sparingly Dispensed

Do not make out in parks along the Singapore coastline, despite it being pitch black and deserted. The Singapore Coastguard patrols the coastline 24-7 with infrared detectors to spot objects in the water in pitch blackness, examples being buoys, illegal immigrants and other thingummies. More often than not, the detectors are turned towards the shore, where officers have the doubtful privilege of seeing enough action to make a Karma Sutra.

Pirates do not (usually) wear eye-patches, have parrots, wooden legs and go "Yarrr! Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of RUM!" Despite what Johnny Depp has to say about it. The normal ones come under the cover of night, wear women’s stockings over their heads and tote enough firepower to puncture you, the ship and other puncturable objects. Go figure. As long as they outnumber you, hey, it’s anybody’s game. Target are usually smaller (and hence, richer ) pleasure craft.

The Navy (not pointing fingers at any country in particular, really! I have full trust in the Republic of Singapore Navy. C’mon, my dad’s in the Navy. ) can be pirates, or at least, whacking bullies in their own right. Some military vessels, commandeered by corrupt naval officers may stop you from entering the territory even though you have every right to do so. Passage may be bought with (rubs fingers together). Safe passage with military escort against pirates may also be arranged. Worst case is that you pay to not be harassed by the navy. Hey, this is the real world.

There are sharks in Singapore waters, along with many unpleasant inhabitants. White-tip shark, which may grow up to 7 m in length, live in the waters around the islands. So when you’re down there, beware. Also present are stonefish (poisonous spines), pufferfish (also with spines, but with an inflatable option.), jellyfish and numerous other denizens of the under…water.

Watch out for the racers! Oops! Generally, young hotbloods like to line up their jetskis and have a street race on the open water. Usually spotted by their characteristic bottom-in-air positions, please refrain from sadistic impulses to run one over. Instead, have mercy and pity for their rashness, for they live such short, short lives.

Avoid having a argument with a more expensive craft. Larger pleasure crafts can reach US six, seven figures. Imagine losing that argument. Or even better, imagine losing that argument in court.

If interested in getting a Power/Pleasure Craft Driving License (PPCDL), contact CPT (NS) Jon, Singapore Powerboat Association at 9-6892857 ( as recommended by a Mr. Ducro)

2006-03-06T22:28:00.000-08:00

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion		46%
Stability		70%
Orderliness		33%
Accommodation		56%
Interdependence		56%
Intellectual		90%
Mystical		50%
Artistic		76%
Religious		43%
Hedonism		30%
Materialism		50%
Narcissism		76%
Adventurousness		83%
Work ethic		63%
Self absorbed		36%
Conflict seeking		70%
Need to dominate		36%

Romantic		36%
Avoidant		63%
Anti-authority		63%
Wealth		36%
Dependency		23%
Change averse		23%
Cautiousness		83%
Individuality		83%
Sexuality		90%
Peter pan complex		50%
Physical security		76%
Physical Fitness		84%
Histrionic		50%
Paranoia		50%
Vanity		50%
Hypersensitivity		36%
Female cliche		43%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

messy, tough, disorganized, fearless, not rule conscious, likes the unknown, rarely worries, rash, attracted to the counter culture, rarely irritated, positive, resilient, abstract, not a perfectionist, risk taker, strange, weird, self reliant, leisurely, dangerous, anti-authority, trusting, optimistic, positive, thrill seeker, likes bizarre things, sarcastic

Trait Snapshot: as of 7th March 2006

2006-03-06T22:11:00.000-08:00

( continuous from test)

secretive
reclusive
messy
disorganized
introverted
unassertive
rarely worries
dislikes large parties
does not like to fit in
does not need to control others
solitary
ambivalent about chaos
tough
leisurely
does not respect authority
not aggressive
observer
abstract
impractical
dislikes leadership
daydreamer
bizarre
does not make friends easily
not a perfectionist
suspicious
rarely irritated
strong physical instincts
unsympathetic at times
risk taker
submissive
weird
sarcastic
strange

2006-03-06T22:09:00.000-08:00

Global Personality Test Results

Stability (70%) high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic..
Orderliness (23%) low which suggests you are overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense too often of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.
Extraversion (33%) moderately low which suggests you are reclusive, quiet, unassertive, and secretive.

Take Free Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

In Retrospect

2005-11-24T00:56:00.000-08:00

The year is ending.

Yet, it is not a complete failure.

How remarkable.

I expected worse.

You can't be a pessimist and set goals of glory at the same time. Your mind will resign and shut down.

Hip hooray.

For mrere fun and no more

2005-09-21T22:37:00.000-07:00

Your Brain's Pattern

Your mind is a firestorm - full of intensity and drama.Your thoughts may seem scattered to you most of the time...But they often seem strong and passionate to those around you.You are a natural influencer. The thoughts you share are very powerful and persuading.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

Back from the Dead and into Reality

2005-09-15T22:10:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder whether being a dumb animal is better than being a human. When you're human, you hear all the news about the damn world being flooded by meltwater, some country far off getting bombed by terrorists who abhor their guts, the politicians in your country complaining about the dire state of the country's toilets...

To add on the wonderful list of benefits, there is still the unending and ultimately useless information glut that we have to practically memorise in order to be ensured as safe and secure job in the not so near future, for the mere reason that as job pretty much covers everything you need for your survival. AND even that may not be certain.

Yes, maybeing being a dumb animal is much better. But then, any pessimist may predictably quote the use of animal testing, the shrinking of natural reserves and the inhumane cruelties inflicted on poor dumb animals by the perfectly wonderful, intelligent, moralistic and higher (just higher) humans.

Maybe it is altogether better not to exist. But then religion dictates( or at least Christianity and Catholism) that there is no spiritual salvation if you were never born a human.

So where does that leave us?

In the unknown, back against a wall, facing the expanse of infinite darkness.

I'm Lookin' at You, Girl

2005-06-20T04:38:00.000-07:00

Parlez Vous Desire?

What is it that we all want?

After an action-filled disappearance, I am sad to say I have forgotten many of the particularly embarrassing things that have happened to me over the last three weeks of holiday.

Or have I?

Vaguely Interesting Fact #1
Held a class reunion on the first week, Italian pasta and dishes. About 6 people turned up. I am distraught. After all that effort trying to cajol the classmates, a poor response for a epic goal.
Thus, in revenge, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

So there. We had fun without you. Pffbt.
Lol.

Vaguely Interesting Fact #2

Beixi tells me that she is more mature.

If your response is :

A: (Like my mum) "Eh? So what, she's more mature then." You are destined to become like your mother, out of touch and just SIMPLY NOT GETTING IT!

B: (Like dear old Shuhui ) " BEIXI tells YOU that SHE is more MATURE?! BEIXI?!" You are my soulmate, my old friend, my sworn sister, my countrywoman.

And so, friends, sisters and countrywomen; lend me your eyes.

Vaguely Interesting Fact #3

I harbour a deep disgust towards males who are:

a. Under twenty. Or in the case of the Singaporean male, under thirty. They have no maturity.

b. Are reliant on their parents. Such males have no shame.

c. Play computer games and extol its virtues.

d. Do not assist in housework.

And to all such males, I say to thee: FIE FIE, AWAY FROM ME!

Vaguely Interesting Fact #4

I have been interrogated by my dear old friends as to who resides in my highest ideal, who is this mysterious person who appears in the posts of my nearly-defunct blog.

Who is it, I wonder? Who, who?

I have described him to Jade, or in actual fact, she twisted the truth from my lips. I can't tell an outright lie and keep a straight face. It is my only failing. I can't lie all that well. Sigh.

Here is the gist of the conversation (or what I remember of it):

Is he tall?

Uh.... not really..... About 1.7m- ish

Is he a mugger?

Uh... no I don't believe so... just does his work constantly... I think.

Is he outspoken?

Yes. A definite yes. He can't sing though. It was rather horrible.

Is he active?

Uh... in what sense? School? Generally? I guess so.

Is he sporty?

OOooh yes. Yesyesyes.

So he's in a sports cca?

No. Can imagine so, though. Performing arts.

Choir?

No!

Drama?

No.

Dance?

Yes.

Chinese Dance?

NO. Argh. Western dance.

Western dance? Like as in ballet? Ballroom?

No. More like hip-hop, that sort of thing.

Is he tanned?

Yes. :D

Where does he live?

In the HCI hostel.

So he's the independant sort?

:) Yes.

So he live v. far from NJC?

Bet your boots.

Don't tell me he's a China PRC Scholar.

NO WAY IN HELL. Absolutely not. Those people have no lives. And I can't understand super-fast chinese.

Lalalalalall :D:D:D

The Peculiar Protests of a P_________.

2005-05-12T19:56:00.000-07:00

Fill in whatever you feel like. Copy and paste into the comments. I wanna see what you guys can think of...

This is the story of a P______.

I was (action) in the (place) when a unconcious (person/object) crashed through my (object/person/thingummy).

" ________!!! ____________!!!!" He yelled, unaware that he was (action on object)."

"What in the (peculiar epithet) ?!" I shouted, rather contrite at the shocking intrusion. A knock on the (object) distracted me from the (describe) sight. Upon opening the (aforementioned object), I saw no one there.

A muffled cough caused me to look down. It was a (object/ person) . I (action).

The (object/person) did a small somersault. I (action) a (another object) and (action) the (first object) with it.

"What____________?" I (action) my (object), wondering whether ____________. " Is the (doomsday scenario) yet?"

The (object/person) (action) me. " Have you ______________?"

The unconcious (person/object) awoke from the (location) and (action) at us (description of action). " Is it time?"

After that I (action) and (action).

Endurance Notwithstanding

2005-04-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

Music : U2 -- Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own
Thoughts: I have to put this down before I forget.
Mood: Deliriously Elated

The information stated below is for blackmail purposes. Do not feel free to extort confessions of ...luff. Or Money. Do not pass Go and do not collect two hundred dollars.

Yes. The dreaded word is regaining a tenous toehold amongst the crags of this life.

Starts with L.

Ends with an E.

Yes. The monstrosity, the dreaded english noun. The foundations of this tower is shaken.

Let me recount yesterday's proceedings in the vicinity of the library. More specifically the computer stations. Especially the only computer capable of printing with internet access. A more unromantic setting cannot be described nor conjured out of the depths of my infinite creativity.

Self: (sitting at the aforementioned com station with no regard for impending doom)
Mysterious Person: Hey, can I use your com to print something? You're not printing right?
Self: (Spine is filled with the devils of frozen hell. Resists an urge to drop my jaw and make a dash for the exit.) Oh, hey. Hi. It's okay, I'm not printing anything. You use it first.
MP: Thanks. Sorry about this.
Self: (tries not to look at the other's face. Nor let any expression creep upon own.) It's okay.
MP: (Pulls out chair of station right next to the aforementioned one. )
Self: (Tries not to wince.) Thanks.
.
.
.
(filled with miscellanous curses from Mysterious Person about printers and non-functionality. And about the availability of A3 paper in this desert of a school. And the dire urgency of printing the coucillor-elect camp timetable.)
.
.
.
Self: (continues to type reply to Mel's email.)
MP: (starts humming some love song. Then starts singing the lyrics softly, word by word.)
Self: (resists urge to cover ears and scream.) (thinks: No! Not the infectious music! Argh! I cannot think! I am distracted! Why the heck am I distracted?! Ah! Hell!) (Eyes dart desperately for a source of sanity to latch consiousness on.)
MP: (Continues search for paper. Asks Self for assistance.)
Self: (provides paper.) (Freaks out internally.)
.
.
.
MP: (tries to start up conversation by mentioning assumption that Self was in AEP. )
Self: (Refutes assumption with monosyllabic answer. Brain cells in control of conversation commit hari kiri.)
Self: (packs up and makes a break for it.)
MP: Bye!
Self: Bye.

How pathetic the Self is .

How practically inept.

How socially unlearned.

And how traumatised.

The Next Day.

Self: (Returns to the same computer station to print form for SRP)
Self: (no thoughts of previous day come to mind)
Self: (Finishes printing.)
Self: (Stands up to go. Notices a small white square of paper under side of keyboard.)
Self: (Curiousity piqued.)
Self: (Picks it up and flips it over.)
Self: (Barely stifles a horrified shriek. Passport-sized colour photograph of Mysterious Person.)
Self: (Drops photo like a poisonous snake. Shoves it back under the keyboard.)
Self: (Strides away. Rattled.)

Self: (At SRP a few hours later. Plugging small orchid plants into new flask using aseptic technique.)
Self: (Muses. Should have taken that photograph.)
Self: (thinks: I am so not desperate!)
Self: (Thinks of idea of seeing/oogling Mysterious Person from confines of wallet.)
Self: (Stifles another scream.)
Self: (Shudders violently.)

Cheerio!

Murder Inc.

2005-04-25T23:47:00.000-07:00

http://www.freewebs.com/madcapcapers/

Taken Its Toll on Maaae

2005-04-22T19:01:00.000-07:00

It's Friday again. Where have all that time gone...? Hum hum.

Some ancient civilisations tell the time via the movement of shadows on cold stone, the flow of water from one cylinder to another, the rising of the sun to the going down. If any of them told their time according to the rate at which my homework gets done/looked at/prodded, I'm will to bet that their routine will definitely go out of whack. Or at least be two months behind. Which is exactly the state of my dues.

It's a tragedy.

On the other hand, I pretty much organised what I wanted to do for this year. ( The original intention was to organise my life in a particular direction such that my goals/dreams get achieved..... This is coming from a person who has absolutely no idea what to do with her life. Ha. ha. ha. hurk.)

So so.....the highlights of the week, (though not neccessarily the high times):

The Council Elections
Six miserable hours of listening to candidates ardent for some desperate glory ( yea... pro patria mori). In short, I ate a donut, a packet of potato rolls and a box of fruit. Oh.... and the speeches were fairly routine, infused with youthful spirit and enthusiasm...blahblahblah. I can be your leader. Vote me. (sneaks a furtive look at george bush)

(George Bush(sneezes): Eh?)

Turns out that the councillor elects that I know... made an utter fool of themselves on stage. I won't list names (jabs Russell viciously) being the nice sordid person that I am. But heck. I hope people won't vote based on looks (and bimbo-sity in other aspects. Both male and female.) but with actual concern for their own future and minimal tolerence of stupidity. So I didn't vote anyone I knew. Thus I can claim ignorance if my choice turns out to be a bad one.

Hey hey don't look at me. I didn't promise to vote you.

Le Torment du Amanda

Amanda... the poor girl, perpetually bullied and tormented to no end by the boys of 17. Poor dear. Chinese class, despite holding a smaller poopulation of the male species from 17, hold no respite from the mocking remarks and pranks. She had her eraser stolen and stuffed into a mysterious (that no one knew whose) waterbottle, after which William had to go through all that trouble of getting it out again. How barbaric.

That is why I'm glad to be female. (And so that I can act so gay without getting a second glance. Nyah nyah boys.)

The Kindness of a Stranger and The Unfortunate Success

I had to attend the bloody Star Programme interview, and I had to ask this stony-faced IP teacher to arrange a slot for me.. Turned out that he was my interviewer. (Oh! The horrors!) Spent half an hour after everyone was gone (mine was the last slot) to convince both of them whether or not I should be in the programme. I let my tongue wag, and now they think I'm competent. Oh hell! (Buries face in hands and shakes head sadly) It is exactly what I intended not to do.

Harken to my cry, all ye vultures of the earth. I am so dead.

(And I am so stupid that I cannot act stupid.)

My Incredible Luck (Cattle burning in progress)

That I have not once been called upon to give a reason for not handing in my work despite sitting in the front row and asking stupid questions constantly. (Or maybe they just don't care) At least I have not yet have had a coronary.

And with the dawn of the coming Monday, another torturous grind begins.

Cheerio!

It's A Beautiful Daaaa~ay ( It's a Story, it feels like...)

2005-04-16T00:05:00.000-07:00

Ah, Friday... The day to revive and recover from all dire injuries obtained during the week. A time to lick your wounds, scratch your fleas and sniff your bu-- oops. So in other words, overdose on a weeknight's websurfing.

And to be fed upon by legions upon multitudes of mozzies that swarm through the window for the buffet.

And so after one entire week of being hounded by teachers for miscellaneous assignments, terrorised by frivolous mentors and furious letter-writing, I am finally (for the sake of future generations and my grandkids, if they want to see how wonky their senile grandma was when she was young... scratch that. Younger.) settling down to fill this webspace with another set of text, heaving a relaxed sigh.

Oh yeah. And the GEPAA website is absolutely (italicised, underlined, bold) Pathetic.

Yes, you heard me. (and here all the gepers launch themselves in a flying tackle with a snarl) But seriously. The site's been up since last year and all them have in the forum is one measley little post (WELCOME!) and eight registered users. I suppose that they get members who are only interested in the who-went-where part.

On to more serious matters, my mentor's all lovey-dovey again, all polite, kind and genial (the lamn lastard) And I have to arrange to miss class each week for the project meetings. Bleagh. That means that I'll skive off Physics and such at the end of every Tuesday. Under normal conditions, I would be exulting at the opportunity to skip class (yes skip~ skip to the end of the world), but seeing the fact that my physics tutorials are behind time and that I don't get the topic too well ( since I haven't seen the face nor bottom of a physics textbook for the last six months. ) it might not bode well in the future. (Also: The physics tutor is gorgeous. And pretty fun. And we only get to see him on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, not inclusive of lectures. Lol. He's bald too. Funkaaay!) Less eye candy.

So, hence, thus, altogether (yes yes this is not grammatical, but I would like to see my GP teacher throw a fit.) I'm not too optimistic about this arrangement.

Hmm hmmm.. what else what else....

Ooh yes. I've found this lovely little link to many, many fascinating Flash games/toys. I'll put it up here.

http://www.rit.edu/~jhb4598/jblog/bestof2004.php3

I recommend MOTAS (Mysteries of Time and Space), The Viridian Room, Samarost (not found there but you can google it). And Saltacol (that was freaky little game). I love these little puzzles :D

Cheerio!

Chotto Matte Minna-San!

2005-04-14T01:01:00.000-07:00

In a tumultous day, the only thing you can be sure about... is that you need to pee.

One thing I hate about talking to people not from here (and now) is that the two different cultures clash and give you a hell of a misunderstanding.

Need an example?

E.g. Yesterday I sent a reply to my mentor (he's from hongkong? china? He talks with the sort of chinese-cnn accent) to set a date for the first project meeting, on saturday, because I thought, the damn botanic gardens are open on sat, why not its employees? So yes, I put saturaday down on the reply and hastened it upon its treacherous way. The next day I get a reply, rather miffed-sounding, that he doesn't work on saturday and was every meeting going to be like this? A snide reference to the implication that my answer did not seem to convey my dedication to the damn project... Maybe he should give the project to somebody else...

And so I typed Go to hell you damn lousy bas---mnphmnphargh. Deleted it. And wrote a nicely worded letter conveying my sincerest apologies and when would it be a convienient for you? (despite the fact that I was fuming pissed as I stabbed the keyboard viciously) In a red haze I saw the reason in his reply, here was a mentor, who was looking for a sincere, hardworking, dedicated student who was worth his time and effort and there she goes giving you some careless answer as to when to schedule the first, and the most important, project meeting.

The red haze of rage was convincing my conciousness- What the luck! No lamn way in lell am I going to apologise to some lucking lastard who lucking thinks I'm not dedicated to my lucking work!

Reason: Oh yeah?
Red Haze: Yeah! You heard me!
Reason: Sez who?

(sounds of scuffling)

And then I think, maybe this mentor is still pretty much ingrained with the chinese culture (despite me being chinese myself, I'm a true-blue Singaporean. And Singapore is not in China. Or America. Or upon a remote hilltop in Inner Mongolia) The Chinese (hemhem) believe the the saying that pupils must seek knowledge, be hardworking and of all things, humble in the pursuit of knowledge.

(Here, teenage hormones and bloodlust scream treachery!)

I mean, all the mentors that I had, they were all pretty slack, pretty easygoing and to the point. Very little diplomacy, done? Done! sort of people. And those projects did well. My chemistry teacher was one of them, very practical, the sort who calls the people in cambridge those damn old fogeys who are making my life hard with all these damn rules about O'levels. I mean, he's the kind you can respect, he kind who goes Here, I want a meeting on Monday and you are going to bugger all your teachers till you can come. Not some poncy git who throws a damn fit when you tentatively suggest; Saturday?

So I am going to put it all down to the difference in culture. Not him. ( Red Haze: poncygitponcygit! Urgh!)

I am going to make this project good. Spend a good time working with him (the lamn lastard). Have a good mentor-student relationship and spend my hols picking pollen off trees. All nice, calm and restrained.

No killing whatsoever.

Cheerio!

he At Yer Insistence Dahling...

2005-04-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

I'M OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD, THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF PAUSE-.......................................................................................

(be glad I didn't say gizzard)

Ah, the air smell remarkbly less refreshing since I last breathed it.

At a dear friend's ceaseless chivying (well, once is enough) I have returned once again to update the chronicles of Me.

Wholesome fun for all the family! Even Grandma and Grandpa can join in! ( ...actually, all this talk is hardly wholesome, esp. for people with the attention span of a fly. )

So. Talk.

I'm stressed.

I'm pissed.

I have homework I haven't done yet.

So what am I doing here?

Providing myself with entertainment from the depths/surface of mine imaginings and spinning interest out of utter boredom.

Do you know if you pressed hard against the back of you head, near the base of the skull, you can stop nausea? Very useful if you've been partying all night and wake up with a damn hangover. Of course, if you pressed hard enough, you wouldn't need to worry about that hangover anymore. Or about anything else for that matter.

Cheerio!

At The End of The Θ

2005-04-05T21:31:00.000-07:00

Oh gosh. I need to read more books. My grasp of the language is slipping through my fingers. Bah. I started using science terminology in daily conversation, at the lack of anything better to say.

Maybe I should put a booklist up here...

I spent the entire of yesterday evening with my sister... Waited for her at her workplace for about an hour and a half. Fortunately, it was rushhour, so I got an education on what the working class wears to work. AND what they shouldn't wear to work. Maybe I should become a fashion consultant when I grow up, or a designer. As a hobby.

It's lovely outside the CapitaLand Building. They have this huge fountain and a pond full of koi.
And fat koi at that. Rather rotund gulping giants.

I wanted to feed them, but I suspected they'll turn belly-up the moment I put crushed, old choc biscuits in the water.

Sigh. Ate cookies before that too. With great foresight.

I noticed, that most of the people who walked past had this haunching walk, like their workload's on their shoulders. Pale, pallid and pasty.

I know what is needed for a balanced lifestyle (e.g. exercise, nutrition and etc) but it's whether you want to keep to it that's the problem.

Argh. Cheerio.

All You Need Is Looooove (and You'll End Up on the Street)

2005-03-31T04:45:00.000-08:00

I must admit. I have a list of things I find rather strange/peculiar/curious/plain weird.

1) Boys.
2) The African Poison Dart Frog. Many colours available.
3) The fact that we have to do cultural mapping despite not having any culture. Should be renamed the Recording of Absolutely Useless Facts for the Future Trivia Gameshows.
4) The mistaken assumption of educationists that interest is spontaneously generated out of absolutely nothing when agnst-ridden teenagers are given something different to do. (refer to (3).) And that we're all going to be rather jolly about it.
5) The sudden similarity of 17 year old males to my 57 year old father in the use/overdose of cologne in the presence of Me.
6) Homework.
7) Oysters and other otherworldly crustaceans. (Eww.)
8) Why wine is regarded as the drink of all time when it is just rotten grapes.
9) The state of mind where it seems impossible to escape from your present lifestyle and inherent depression.
10) Boys.

I cannot exist in my happy jovial state of being when boys are around. I am subdued, depressed and quitened. It comes from ten years of single-sex education. 6 years in SCGS, 4 years in Nanyang and I'm ready to give my understanding of the male species the boot. I just don't get them. I admit: they are similar to us (females) in shape, basic body structure, heck, even up to half our chromosomes.

But why the hell are they so strange?

I could take a softball bat. Aim it carefully at the nearest male head. Let it go.

Yes. That is how it should be. Violence begets violence. To the darling boys in our class, it is a massive hint at your behavior. How can decent male children grow up to be so indecent?

Must be the hormones.

Or my lack of social skills.

The Smallest Things Can Change the Course of History

2005-03-30T19:16:00.000-08:00

I just read a book today... It's called 'The Alchemist'. Very interesting, thought-provoking. Though more suited to the Christian.

I'm swearing off personality tests. As well as quizzes off the Net. They are absolutely, utterly useless and serve only to hinder oneself. It may seem at first the salvation of teenagers who are confused with their life, seeking guidance(ergo me, or me before I put some thought into how useful they were) but they are only the inept potterings of people who don't give a hoot of how their work affects others. Hmm. Simply put, if you were to take a personality test off some website, you would scan the answer that you've gotten, searching for that grain of truth. Sometimes you find it, sometimes you don't. But you keep the results in mind. So as you go about your daily routine, you begin to think; hmm.. what if those other things in the results are true? Then you start nit-picking. Every teeniest detail that might hint at the other qualities stated in the result. Subconciously, you're already working towards being the result.

And you're becoming a result of a quiz posted online by someone who doesn't give a damn. Imagine becoming a cliche spouted by some teenager, some idiot, some ignorant who is trapped in a room all day with a computer and no source of human company. How bad can we become?

Oooolrighty. Enough with the exposition.

Now on to more mellow stuff.

Lalalalalaaa~

OH Yes. I forgot. * dances around madly, backward, upsidedown. Burns another cow. (Sorry Jaya. Winces.) Sings praises to the God Almighty*

I got into SRP!!! WHOOOOOO HOOOOOO!!!! Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah!!!

And I'm going to spend my entire June Hols collecting pollen like some damn bumblebee and I am Absolutely Going To Love Doing It! YES! WHOOHOOO! AHHHHHHH!!!!

Or did I already mention this in an earlier post? Hmmm. The mind wonders.

Nevermind. It's worth mentioning yet again :D

I am blessed. Bless-sed. :D Thank you Lord!

Take That You Lousy Bastard!!!!

2005-03-29T04:04:00.000-08:00

HAH! I GOT INTO SRP! TAKE THAT QIANXING!

(and he also got in, but heck! I don't care! I'm too busy exulting.)

Thus, I am going to spend my entire June Hols collectiing pollen like some bloody bumblebee, but who the hell cares? I live and breathe to do things like that! I love plucking flowers and poking at them! Now I can do that...at the Botanic Gardens! Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah! (here I squeal, hug myself, and bounce around in circles.)

Yes, I am a vengeful, loveless spirit, wild and fey. Fear me!

And I absolutely love dissing people. Hear this: The epitome and ultimate representative of the SDU has decided to join the StaR programme, on allegations that he wants to be as busy as possible, that he subsists upon stress. (hear that Mugger Pres? He's worse than you. Pffbt CW dearie, I don't think you were ever a mugger in the first place. Just, very, very smart. This may not be a compliment) He openly admits to being gleeful of taking a place in the StaR away from a witless NJCian. How unsportmanly. Give someone else the bloody chance, don't be greedy you damn ...sigh. It takes all types to make a world. Too bad my N chances of meeting like Qianxing is N=1. Just 1 too many.

And I know, years from now, I shall look back upon this day, regretting slightly, feeling the teeniest sense of guilt that I am so ruthlessly put him down in such a cruel, adolescent manner. But I don't feel that now. So I shall have some fun.

And I do not belong to anyone, Russell darling. Not you, not Julito, not anyone, not ever.

A Little Song, A Little Thought

2005-03-28T22:50:00.000-08:00

<>

"This guy I knew long ago... His name was Jack. He was one of us, ground down by life and frustration, living sick and weary. This is his song...

He ran the road of life
Like we've done before
And slammed again were the doors
In his face, at his back.

(Bridge)
On the last day of the last term of his education, He faked a face and just put a show on.
He was crying inside the proud smile. He's missed his dream by a mile.

(subchorus)
There's only so much a man can take. He can't cry can't stand can't skip the rules.

(chorus)
And Na na na-na-na Too late, he' s gone
Kissed the girl and made her cry
George porge would be proud
Na na na-na-na he' s gone away. To save his life.

He's gone like the bird
Off his path, take the risk
His sight cleared of mist
He knew exactly where he was going

(Bridge)
And to all those confused unwanted. Look above look down look around you.
There must be somewhere you can be. Just not here with me.

(Chorus)
And Na na na-na-na Too late, he' s gone
Kissed the girl and made her cry
George porge would be proud
Na na na-na-na he' s gone away. To live his life. "

And the Answeeeeer Issss.....

2005-03-28T04:04:00.001-08:00

You're an:

Where Have All The People Gone

2005-03-28T04:04:00.000-08:00

You're black, you sexy creature! Seen as a
sophisticated and mature person, you are liked
by many an adult. But otherwise, you're a
rebellious and controversial person. On the
other hand, you're also very conservative and
and frugle. Is it possible that you enjoy
reading a heavy book? But seen as mysterious
and hidden, it may be hard to find someone to
talk to. You're not a particularly outgoing
person, but you do enjoy a good, long talk with
a person. Debating is one of your favorite
forms of communication. You just enjoy
stirring strong emotions inside people, and
watching the reaction. But as you watch, are
you sipping straight (unsweetened) coffee?

What color are you? (Amazingly detailed & accurate--with pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla
Where have all the good men gone?
And where are all the all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight?
Upon a fiery steed?
Every night I toss and I turn and I think of what I need...

(namely, a small tab of polonium, a small tab of lithium, 5 kilograms of depleted uranium ore (235/236?), plastic explosives (200g), a metal tube, and a military standard detonator. Also: a nice lead shell to put the ingredients in. And a trip to the White house on a day where the security is lax)

(or some petroleum jelly, the sort banned by the Geneva Convention. I have forgotten what it was called... plsma? hmm...)

How to start how to start....hmmm...

I have many things on my mind.... (I actually do have a mind, despite popular belief)

Thingum Number One: How The Hell Am I Going To Go Through The Rest Of My School Life? (namely the second term, considering the unloveliness of my outlook)
School has continued with its streak of unappeal since three weeks back. I skipped class like a lamb. Skipped, played truant, absent without official leave, gone, poof! I don't do it because it's cool (and to those darlings who think it is, it's not. Wake up and smell the roses.) it's just that there's nothing to hold me back. Sometimes I just want to take this metal stick/ any material will suffice, and go to the library, scream and knock everything loose. And then go to the general office and wreck havoc, then go to the senior class and kill a certain someone. Spill a little blood, alleviate a little stress. And then head on down to the police station, where the rest of my life is blissfully plotted out for me ever since I made my first wallop at the bookshelves. Yes, even jail time and punishment are deemed better in the light of recent events. I hope NJ catchs fire and burns. And then we can have lessons out in the containers. I don't want to study general things. I want to get right down and dirty and do case studies, actually create something, experiment. I don't it all to be just gearing up for the A levels, I want apprenticeship, I want something useful, somehting solid to come out of these few years. I chafe. I should move to Switzerland. Students can choose to go into apprenticeships with companies... I hate this weather.

Thingum Number Two: I miss Mellie-Wellie. I wish she'll come back soon. She sounds absolutely miserable there. And I wish that she'll answer her mails faster bleagh. I'm trying to track the parcel I sent, but I can't for the life of me find the bloody receipt with the box's registration number on it. Curse Singpost and bloody parcel rates. I need someone to crap to. To really crap. To tell everything and not get a raised eyebrow in return or quote "monosyllabic answers". Most of the time it's "okaaaaaaaay... (backs away)" Sigh. I wish I were there too. And I wish my hair were long and that I had some traumatic childhood experience that turned my hair white and that I have a deep personal vendetta against the president of the united states. Then I would have a valid reason for doing the the things I do and thinking the things I think.
And I still have white hairs, nevertheless...

Thingum Number Three: I think I'm desperate. There was this song on the radio, really old, and it said " young girl, you're too eager to give your love away..." And I think that it is all so true. So I'm washing my hands of all such matters and will view the other species as objectively as humanly possible. Till the next bombshell comes along. Argh.

And I should have never told Debo and Manda about Julito. I'll never live it down. (groans and buries face in hands) There. I don't care anymore. It doesn't matter. It's not great fantastic blackmail material. With the luck I'm having, he might just stumble over this blog and have a good long laugh. I hate boys (not men) the small whiney boys I just want to smack on the back of the head with a resounding PIIIIIAK sound.

I hate indecision. If you wanna pon, do it. Don't wait for anyone. Just do it. (gosh did I just say that?) No hesitation, don't look to anyone for askance. Just go right ahead and do it. It's your life. It's your responsibility. It's your gamble if you get caught. It's all up to you, not them, not the people on the sidelines. Don't look to them and wonder what they'll think of you. They're too busy thinking the same thing.

Close your eyes, grit your teeth. And do it.

For The Heck of It...

2005-03-07T04:55:00.000-08:00

I am a Capricorn. (Also known as "Goat") My Horroscope starts like this:
" Cruel, cold and heartless, the Capricorn has all the warmth of an iceberg in January. He is a tyrant at work and an inquisitor at home.
A Capricorn sees picking on others as one of the major reasons for his existence. He will get worked up over minor infractions, and is completely devoid of sense of humor. It is not uncommon for a Capricorn to be abusive towards his (her) significant other, be it a spouse or a best friend.
Capricorns will back down only if faced with a threat of physical force, or intence psychological pressure.
Intellectually primitive, lacking any semblance of imagination, he is nevertheless vengeful to the extreme - the word "forgiveness" is not in his vocabulary.
Capricorns posess the rare combination of delusions of greatness and low self esteem - all with minimal mental capacity. This is why so many are found among upper and middle management. " (Read more Find yours)

Gosh. There are People Aside from Me

2005-03-03T05:39:00.000-08:00

Gah. The MOE server is jammed. I hope whoever thought of implementing this idea with the largest, record number of student per year will have his office ceiling collapse on him, his laptop crash and his lift jammed.

My apologies to whoever is with him at the time.

Or her.

Chereshire is officially, surely, finally, damnedly, alphabetically disillusioned with school. Utterly disinterested, frustrated and driven mad.

As my math teacher used to say, "I am disillusioned (with you all, All girls should be good girls, that is my motto. So why have you not handed up your Integration Assignment?)"

Ah, the memories.

The Alphabet of Utter Disillusionment with School

A is for Anywhere, Anywhere but here
B is Bio, That Has a Cross that I might fear
C is for Chemistry, Lectures benign
D is for my Grades, I plead with the divine
E is for my Eulogy, which I soon shall need
F is for my Feet, which have gone to sleep
G is for Gangrene, I hope my teacher gets
H is Hope, that out of lessons I'm let
I for Innovation, of which I have not any
J is for Jerrycans with some petroleum jelly
K is for Keys, to knowledge I have not found
L is for Losers, who are mentally unsound
M is for Mindfulness, of courtesy I am not
N is for Negativity, so you can go to rot
O is for OGLs who I have trouble with
P is for People, I with whom I am miffed
Q is for Quasimodo, whose looks I seem to copy
Or Quantum shells of notes that I should photocopy
R is for the Ridiculousness, of the PBL
S is for Stupidity, which can go to hell
T is for Time, for sleeping, awake I should be keeping
U is for Uselessness, of the time in school I'm spending
V is for Violence, of boys is the class
W is for Wonder, at how that they can laugh
X is for the symbol, I see on my worksheetsY is the sound, when those marks I meet
Z is for zoology, which I think that I ought to study
To make some sense of my education, my life and my folly.

I Hope Blogspot Headquarters Explodes

2005-03-02T05:39:00.000-08:00

I can't see the left side of my page!!! Wails~

Morturi Men

Cast your woe, oh my dear
You have everything to fear
The die is rolled, all is lost
Brave men all desert their posts
Ay ai! The end is close
To dent our shame
And stone the dove

Flee now, or never
Feel now terror's fervour
Listen not to soothsaying tarot
Nor hear your people ballot
They know not, the pain, the anguish
In which we soldiers languish?

The Lords, the Ladies
They high regard
The dazzling medal
The fine white garb
Clothed so the death-eyed wear
Enamoured by their warmthless stare

Love thy life, my dear fellows
The high esteem is poor pillow
For the last price of many ends

It is not worth Deathlings, morturi men.

OH THANK YOU LOOOOOOOOOORD!!!!!

2005-03-01T05:39:00.000-08:00

I GOT A BLOODY FRIGGIN EIIIIIIIGHT!!!!

(and in case you're wondering whether this is a good thing...)

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!!!!!!

*falls downs on knees and bows down to the heavens, burns an entire cow as sacrifice, swears eternal fealty*

mooooooo~moo~mooo~

Eyes are the Windows Upon the Soul. (In that case I don't want to see it.)

2005-02-28T21:28:00.000-08:00

Have you ever averted your eyes when a Filipino maid looks at you? Or a Bangladeshi worker? A labourer?

I have.

I feel ashamed when I looked at them. As if I'm not good enough. As if they know something that I don't. I respect such people, who are real, down to earth, who use their hands to work for what they want. They work in order to live, in order to support their families and for whatever other reason there are.

I just don't feel good enough to meet their gaze.

A Ditty on the Dastardly Ways of Self.

2005-02-25T04:01:00.000-08:00

Gosh. I have not updated for about a week. And I seem to be on a diatribe recently on how utterly pointless it is to attend class when your mind is not even within the same ten-mile radius as your brain. Which I happen to stow in the deep freezer everytime I leave for my cruel, cruel daily activity of stoning in school. Ahh. Breathe the same fresh air as the others, safe in the knowledge that your life is predictable. And absolutely mindless.

The world is so wide and wonderful. What am I doing in class?

For the life of me, I have no idea. When you're in class, you wish you were out off the classroom. When you're out of the classroom, you wish you were out of school. When you're out of school, you wish you were at home. When you're at home, you wish you were in school.

Is there anywhere else I rather be? My life revolves around the main areas of school, home and transit. Urk.

School holds a pallid interest for me, a pale shadow of the determined spirit that infuses all younglings upon induction into the institute of higher learning. Higher learning can go...do something else...for all I care. My favourite subjects have been wrecked into pile of unrecognisable nonsense by teachers such as Cross. Cross the fluctuating mood bipolar ought to be sorted into the trough of people labelled too emotional and pissed for their own good.

I am resigned to my fate, h'bout you?

I am tired. I want to go to sleep.

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And All hands on Chereshire!

Sukiyaki -Rokusuke Ei

2005-02-18T01:39:00.001-08:00

Ue o muite arukoo~~~~~~~~~~~~~I look up when I walk
Namida ga kobore nai yoo ni ~~~~So the tears won't fall
Omoidasu haru no hi ~~~~~~~~~~Remembering those happy spring days
Hitoribotchi no yoru~~~~~~~~~~~But tonight I'm all alone
Ue o muite arukoo~~~~~~~~~~~~I look up when I walk
Nijinda hoshi o kazoete~~~~~~~~Counting the stars with tearful eyes
Omoidasu natsu no hi~~~~~~~~~~Remembering those happy summer days
Hitoribotchi no yoru~~~~~~~~~~~But tonight I'm all alone

Shiawase wa kumo no ue ni~~~~~Happiness lies beyond the clouds
Shiawase wa sora no ue ni~~~~~~Happiness lies above the sky
Ue o muite arukoo~~~~~~~~~~~~I look up when I walk
Namida ga kobore nai yoo ni~~~~So the tears won't fall
Nakinagara aruku~~~~~~~~~~~~Though my heart is filled with sorrow *
Hitoribotchi no yoru~~~~~~~~~~For tonight I'm all alone
(whistling)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(whistling)

Omoidasu aki no hi~~~~~~~~~~~~Remembering those happy autumn days
Hitoribotchi no yoru~~~~~~~~~~But tonight I'm all alone
Kanashimi wa hoshi no kage ni~~~Sadness hides in the shadow of the stars
Kanashimi wa tsuki no kage ni~~~~Sadness lurks in the shadow of the moon
Ue o muite arukoo~~~~~~~~~~~~I look up when I walk
Namida ga kobore nai yoo ni~~~~So the tears won't fall
Nakinagara aruku~~~~~~~~~~~~Though my heart is filled with sorrow *
Hitoribotchi no yoru~~~~~~~~~~For tonight I'm all alone
(whistling)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(whistling)

A Foot in the Future, Another in the Grave

2005-02-18T01:39:00.000-08:00

It hits you, after the myriad years of your life, that you have done absolutely nothing worthwhile. What will you do? I sat down and clutched my head and moaned terribly. Sixteen years! I bewail, Sixteen years with nothing, nothing to show for it. Oh shhhi-

And at this rate, I'm going to live my life in the highway of uselessness till I leave this earth. Oh gosh, how wonderful.

And just this afternoon we had the Biomendical science talk. I feel so small in such a room, a room filled with people who hang on to every single word the lecturer says, all reaching desperately to the same goal of joining the medical faculty in future. They all know what they want. They want to snatch it triumphantly, fufilling their meaning of life, helping people...and etc.

So what do I want? Do I really want what they want? Or is it just a misplaced herd instinct?

An old sheep coughs softly on a distant mountaintop. Baah.

The Emptiness of Overambition : The Perambulant Wants

2005-02-17T01:39:00.000-08:00

It si said that the most important things a person ought and must do when young, is to appreciate their youth. There are countless people out there that I've met, mums and dads, teachers and mentors, who all agree that we, the young should live life to the fullest, carpe diem and all that. So they push and badger us forward to participate in the most ambitious activities. (can't fault them for wanting to live out their dreams through us, no?) That is all fine and dandy, till you stumble upon someone like Qianxing. The event that you will hope will happen Nth times in your lifetime, most preferably with N being less than 1. Negative, in fact.

Yes, today's post will be about Qianxing.

Oh how I ...well, less hate than enormously dislike, that blithering idiot.

And now, on to how he gains Chereshire's animousity:

Number one: He has undeniably proven that's he is the ultimate in being desperate for any kind of recognition and prestige. Hello darlings, he has put down on his application form (for council), that he has 12 co-curricular activities, which will backfire on him, because the people choosing the candidates will not pick someone who has so much commitment to that many. And he doesn't go for all of them anyways, he just wants to get the points and increase the possibility of getting into EXCO for any one of them. And he's still whining about not getting chosen as a leader for some damn physics thingummy. He's whining to me. Why me~ (casts eyes above) Why do all the incredibly irritating people flock to me like pirana to a chunk of turkey ham?

Number two: He has an ego the size of an aircraft carrier. Amazingly, when I asked him politely why he would be a good leader, he goes: People want to follow me, what? ( Chereshire bangs head on hard wall) I tried miserably to convince him that he definitely could not be omnipresent for the CIP walk, run and fundraising, unless he could split himself into three, a task that I would gladly take up for him, free of charge.

Number three: The way he speaks irks me to no end. There's something about him that just rattles the avoidance alarm like a baby's toy.

So there you have it. Le protrait du Qianxing.

Urgh!

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And all hands on Chereshire!

A Considerration Against Abberation

2005-02-16T01:39:00.000-08:00

Do you think I should run for council?

The Errant Fragrance of Youth

2005-02-15T01:39:00.000-08:00

Seriously, Russell's acting weird. All thanks to the others (as in reference of the guys in chinese class and dear, dear Amanda. I shall continue giving you that evil grin that makes thee nervous). And even more so when our chinese teacher started a recourse on all the festivals of lufff, love, lurve that china had. Apparently the people there were fairly desperate; they could only see the ladies like once a year. Russell then acted wonkily for the rest of the lesson. I roll mine eyes and cast to heaven my doubt : why why why~?

Someone just beat him over the head! I can't even talk to him properly anymore! He just gives me this shifty grin, which means he's not looking straight at me. I raise an eyebrow. (what the hell is wrong with you, man? No, I didn't say that.) Then he goes on to shallower and shallower topics, like the pranks that he played yesterday on ACI guys. Hello, dear? ACI guys are like the most gullible around because they are capable of anything. That is why he kept grinning after you sprayed water all over him. (looks up again to the above) Aw, don't tell me you're affected by all this rumour-mongering? I'm astonished!

Frankly, there goes my best friend. Now I have no one to whine to. Pffbt. Except for Jaya. Which doesn't count because she is the one doing the eyebrow raising then. I have to raise eyebrows at someone!

(whines. smack.)

And Jaya? Pau? It really doesn't help if you start drawing big letter Rs in midair and mouth words. He saw the whole thing and commented that the R was facing the wrong direction (after I went "What the hell is she writing?") I assumed that you were writing Jawi script rather spiritedly. Jaya! I thought my target was supposed to be the other one? (jerks head, jerks head)

Ah well, the guys made a huge hoo-ha after Amanda reciprocated Russ' V-day gift. Cand-ayy again. She gave me this terrified look and went "Grace! Don't get jealous!" (squeals after I glower some more) "I'm just returning a favour! Remember the flower yesterday?" And then she scurries into the classroom. I do so enjoy tormenting her... Heh heh heh....

I just find it so amusing!

So, with the school day all said and done (and Mrs aptly-named-Cross, didn't summon us back for the replacement biology lesson. Ole!) , I headed over to the Jurong Nat. Library to get reading material. I never really explored the place, mine knowledge limited to the first floor fiction section. So I went into the reference section on the second level.

As I was walking in the sterile silence of the shelves, this old man walked past me, and whisphered rather poisonously: Nanyang. I shudder at the memory. I'm not too sure whether I really heard it or whether I imagined it, but it was sure as hell damn freaky. And he stayed in the library toilet for a long time. I know that this is pretty unreasonable, but I hope he had piles. And stays in there!

Further exploration led me to another rather negative aspect of the new library. I opened the door to the fourth level teen section and the stench hit me like a rock, a ton of bricks and misc. nasty things. It didn't stink, it reeeeeeeked. It smelled marginally better than my brother's room: you can sense the pheromones in the air! The stench of sweat! Stale food! Unidentifiable smells! Good Lord! Teenagers/children were sprawled all over the place, graffiti all over! Loud music! Rancous laughter! Books spilled like so much trash!

And the place was filled with books with titles along the lines of 30 Things a Teenage Girl Should Know, Spy Girls, Action Kids! It's utterly blasphemous!

I felt rather sickened. So I went back down and went home.

Shudder.

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And All hands on Chereshire!

Daffodils and the Dungeons of Papercuts.

2005-02-11T22:11:00.000-08:00

I learned how to make baby yellow paper daffodils. They look lovely. And they are damn difficult to make. They shrink to about a fifth of the size of the original piece of paper.

I hate papercuts.

Russell looks happy today.

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And all hands on Chereshire!

Russian Roulette :Cont'd

2005-02-09T22:11:00.000-08:00

I was thinking. If I would ever like to be with someone, it'll be someone I can really talk to.

Hence he, the one with the italics, is out of the equation. I don't even know him. And I won't be able even to speak to him coherently. Wunderbar! Now that is out of the way.

I think I shall get Russell a Vuh-that Day present. Yeah.

It's damn complicated. All of this.

Russian Roulette: Are You Game Enough?

2005-02-08T01:32:00.000-08:00

The metal ball rattles in the empty silence, a deadly sound that echoes. Erratic glimpses of light are cast on the onlookers. In the darkess the dealer leans over the table, block the game from view. His face has a pale eldritch look, fearsome and unnatural, eyes shadowed. He puts his face right up to you, and says,

"Last hand?"

(Here, Chereshire coughs violently, hacking hard as saliva goes the wrong direction. )

What? Never heard of an Anticlimax?

Today's the day of the Chinese New Year celebration in NJ. I'm on the digital video team, and was supposed to record all the performances. And got to stay in the hall where it was nice and cool (it was air-conditioned) whilst the rest of the JC1 and IP1s laboured out in the 36 deg celcius open. Ah. The camera has power...

Well, I wore the "love and peace" top with the black jacket with jeans. It makes my front look big. Eww. I hate women with big chest. It looks as if they're overbalanced when they run. Thusly, I wore the jacket for most of the time, zipped right up to the collar, unless I was baking and had to take it off. Mad. Off my rocker. Why did I wear it if I was so overly self-concious? Stupid girl...

Obviously I wasn't thinking about him when I picked out my clothing. I mean if you wake up at six forty-five in the morning, and potter around brushing your teeth and stuff like that, and finally get a sms regarding the reporting time for the video people and that it is at seven fifteen. Who wouldn't think about what to wear? I simply grabbed what was on the table. And what was on the table was what I bought on sat. Turday.

I was in the hall filming. Well, not really. It wasn't my turn to do it. When Russell came into the hall and sat right behind me. Well, since the hall was meant for the J2s and guests etc, the c;ear fact was that he wasn't supposed to be there.

Hence, according to my basest programming, I hissed or whispered urgently or what ever seems more benign, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Then he just looked at me and said "Hi."

I looked him up and down, and seeing that he wasn't wearing an orange/red/pink shirt ( this I automatically assumed as he literally freaked out on me on Friday, when I told him I already wore my chinese new year clothing. It was meant to be worn on the first day of CNY, but heck, I ran out of clothes. He told me to go shopping again. Hmph. Not on your life. Well, he seems like the sort to wear red-pink-yellow or something along those lines... end interruption.) I blanched "Is that your Chinese New Year clothing?

His brow furrowed "Yeah? It is."

"Well, I assumed that it'd be red or pink or something."

He scowls." It is red. (he was wearing a sports shirt. A white sports shirt.) See?" He picks up the side of his shirt, which has a bright red stripe running down the side. (So I wasn't entirely wrong.)

"Oh. Alright. Then what are you doing here?" Still, not a good thing to deviate from the main point. I mean, if this was my old school, darling NYGH, if you were caught without a reason in a place where you had no reason to be in, we would be, no will be, in the deepest sh-manure that you can possible find youself in, I mean, we literally have a guard of honour for the guests. Everyone would have to rise and be silent for the coming of the guests of honour. So don't get me wrong, I might not be overreacting. NJ seems to be a place with slacker expectations though. So Russell still might get into the cesspool.

And so to throw the monkey-wrench in the whole manner of things, he goes and says "I came to see you."

(And how does that sound like Japansese drama darlings? That's the way, Uh huh Uh huh, you liiiike it.)

Slight shock there...I was wondering whether he knew that the phrase had various connotations to it.
Connotation number one: I am a helpless freak and no one in my class likes me. Thus you are my only friend and source of entertainment. ( really, his class hates him because he has this slightly nasal voice that makes it particuliarly irritating when he whines. I find it highly amusing.)
Connotation number two: I seek guidance oh my keeper. The noise outside gets to me. And the games are slightly boring. And it's stewing out there.
Connotation number three: I like you. (to be said in a slightly breathless way.)

(It is not my fault I think to much. I spent like my entire life in a single sex school e.g. SCGS, NYGH. I have yet to learn the naunces of male-female speech. So speak straight to the matter, man! p.s. it is also not my fault I use too many brackets. There's too much going on in this lifetime. Buh.)

And so he says " The games are ultra boring. And it's hot. I'm sick of it." Still can't shake the suspicion there~ His classmates must be at it again. I get the idea. who wants to stay with a bunch of people they don't like. And Russell whines really loudly sometimes. He must have told them that he was a geper. Idiot. I do suppose gepers like him open up only to other gepers. He told me once that he was damn sick of the ostracism we get. (this was when I brought up the idea of a geper club, so we can find the rest of them. The poker-face RI geper agreed whole heartedly with him. And then there was a silence.)

Russell is really a cute guy ( like little kitten kinda cute), but he's like a best friend to me, someone I can whine to. He whines, I whine. We all whine for ice cream!( that doesn't rhyme) So stop it Amanda. Stoppit Deb. Russells tells me to jab either of you and tell you to stop being mean and stop sneaking mocking and furtive glances when both of us sit together. (sticks out tongue. Neh!)

I wonder whether Victoria is a co-ed school. I want to thump his head and get him to make himself clear.

He moves to another seat and pokes me to move in with him. And so we sat watching the CNY performance, which he wasn't supposed to watch, rather morosely. Well, morose on my side of the world. I don't know about him. Then he suddenly says bye and leaves. I wonder what's up with him. He looked quite strange.

It must be said that the moroseness...morose-sity...Came from seeing him, the italics guy, toting a heart-shaped balloon all day. The camera crew was set up right beside the mikes for the audience, so when the CNY quiz was on, the people around us were supposed to run up to one of these and answer. So heigh-ho whatddyaa know? He went up. With that pink balloon. (The enterprise club was marketing the balloons and etc for V-day, and provide delivery to persons of choice.) Someone gave it to him. I had the mental image of storm clouds overunning the place. Crows squarking and flying off in the distance...

(and omg an absolutely gigantic bee just flew past my window. It's banging its head now.. I hate getting stung. Go Away! Shoo!)

And so he didn't see me (and of course he has no inkling that I like...no wait...not really.. in the logical sense, him. And I was thinking, why did I like him if I don't even know who he actually is? It is said that your character is defined by what you do when no one's looking. I have no idea who he really is. So when Pau told me later that when he lost his balloon, it bumping along the ceiling, he actually stood on the table, piggy-backed by another guy, and snagged it despite general amusement.

So I guess someone likes him already. He's quite serious about the balloon.

He's on buddy terms with everyone in his class, even the girls, high-fiving it half the time. I can't even talk to him without a daft look on my face. I don't think I really like him. It's more of a mindless attraction.

Mindless. Underlined. Bold.

So now, I think I shall go along and poke Russell, and try to see what he is thinking. Not shall, but will.

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And all hands on Chereshire!

The Lovelorn and Loveless

2005-02-07T06:38:00.000-08:00

It is a happy man that flung himself on the track, to save to life of one who knew not hapiness.

It is amazing, that with so many males and females on this planet, it is incredibly difficult to get one pair together. One correct pair, one pair that doesn't divorce, murder each other, separate, neither are they happy and gay.

It's like there are natural repulsive and attractive forces between them. One one hand, attraction occurs, one the other, people think too much, casting doubtful eyes upon themselves, trying to secondguess the other. After all this wasted effect, they make not a move.

Checkmate.

This brings us to the topic onj what to get our targets for the Vuh...Wait. Don't help me. I can say it. Vuuuuuuh Vulen.....Valentines! (whew~) Day. Adr already said that she would be getting her's heart-shaped chocolates. How ... mundane. I suppose if that is what she feels is appropriate. It's up to her. Myself, I would rather find something more ...interesting....

Ingredients For Someone Who Makes You Hate Yourself for Loving Him:
(I know the name's too long...)

One old violin case (dried , black or brown, hopefully one that nobody wants, as you don't need the violin)
Two bags of Pourri ( yes, the dried flower smelly thingummy)
One rose (red)
One ring (suitable for a guy. No shiny stones.)
On piece of cream coloured card.
A nice maroon or red ribbon
A nice cursive pen.
A hole puncher.

Step one: Clean out the violin case. Make sure there's no dust. Add the bags of pourri till the case is full. Add some more if it isn't.
Step two: Take the ring and shove it up the stem of the rose, till it is under the bud itself.
Step three: Take the pen and write on the card "To Someone I'd Love to Kill , and would Kill to Love."
Step four: Punch a hole in card and pull ribbon through. Tied ribbon to ring on rose.
Step five: Close case and leave it somewhere the target can find it. (do not forget to address the target's name on the cover)

I don't think I can find a violin case and I think the ring might intimidate.

Oh dear. I'll have to think of another present.

Can't I just beat him on the head till I run out of embarassment?

Heigh-Ho and Cheerio! And all hands on Chereshire!

Rambling Rose Cottage

2005-02-07T04:58:00.000-08:00

Rambling Rose Cottage*Gina

Shopping, the Induction of

2005-02-05T06:38:00.000-08:00

Three absolutely essential steps to undertake upon the Induction of a new Shoppee:

one: Make said Shoppee wear a skirt. Especially significant and necessary for those who have boycotted skirts on the premise that they are extremely sissy and are only worn by the species bimbonus featherskullein. Boycott does not include cerimonial educatee garb.

two: Take blackmail photographs and thus prevent the newly admitted Shoppee on recinding his/her membership.

three: Tramp around the sacred place, The Shopping Centres, for a minimum of five hours till sunset or curfew or both. Objects of absolute worthlessness are a requisite. Dressing rooms are designated as pitstops and the acts of entering one with three articles of clothing must be repeated for fifty cycles.

Yes, Jaya, I'm not too sure those photos were not for the purpose of blackmail...

I had a wonderful time shopping today. Minus the fact that I have lost sensation of my lower extremities. Jaya, Pauling and I went on a shopping spree today. Well, at least Pauling and me did. Jaya didn't seem to get anything. ( she says that she doesn't want to splurge before the o'level results are out) For the first time in my life I willingly put a skirt on. One of those things that have miscellenous belts and frills on them and did not feel entirely like an idiot.

I never went shopping by myself before, and past occurances with my mum have resulted in me and her almost throwing a fit. That means that whatever we agree on, shopping and sense of style is not part of them. For one, she would like me looking like some college sweetheart from Grease, whilst I would rather wear leather and dangerous clothing and sling my guitar around for good measure.

A new relevation. You can wear a skirt and sling the instrument around and still look like a rocker chick. Pau, Jaya and Serena said they want to look at my blog. (there goes privacy) And amazingly, I find that I don't mind. Though with great reluctance, dear blog darling, I had to edit thee. And censor the incrimminating evidence.

I find that my wardrobe is in dire need of renewal, as I cast a cursory eye across the landscape. I have in total: two pairs of cargo pants, two pairs of jeans (of which one does not fit flatteringly), a gravesite of retired t-shirts for home use, a respectable stack of shirts for the occasional forage out of the house, fashion courtesy of my mum and sister. And... a hidden collection of past performance costumes, possessing memories attached that are far too painfully embarrassing.

I need to get my own clothes.

Hence the score is as follows: One new black jacket with a red double strip down the sleeves, and one tank top that screams "Love and Peace", reminiscent of one of my favourite U2 songs of the same name (a song that you can really make your guitar scream to). Wanted to get a denim dress but the cut did not fall properly, though the sleevelessness is very appealing. Jaya and Pau convince me to wear this black backless halter top, which I think is indecency in essence, as no one with a poor tan and nasty complexion should ever consider wearing. And a nice skirt with pleats. And I sort of like wearing sleeveless...

One day withoust seeing him, gives me a sense of relief and ... oh pity. Relief that whatever tension is there at the sight of him is absent and that rationality and sanity is dominant. Thanks Lord. Though I really wish that I could catch a glimpse from afar.

See, the damn love thing is still a fallacy, more like Contradictory Premises.

And so skipping that, let's move on to Chereshire's next relaxational therapy: Cooking. My mum was almost frantic when we ran out of stuff in the fridge, due to the fact that we haven't gone to the market any time this week. Everyone was too busy. She wanted to cook this recipe she got off the net, but the shop downstairs did not sell chicken meat, so I made Pasta Minestone. We ate dinner at eight thirty. Dad said that it tasted like it came from a can. I made everthing by hand! ( this is great praise indeed! It shows that I'm up to marketable standard)

The Biomedical Quiz briefing was on today, with medical student giving us an overview of our mammoth task: the syllabus is split into three main portions; Cell Chemistry, Physiology and Anatomy. These are further sub-divided into ten++ topics. Urk. So I have biomed self study and SRP aptitude test to bother about as well as doing homework. And I'm writing this post instead of doing my rightful duty. URK.

Hark. I have forgotten to water the christmas tree again.

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And all hands on Chereshire!

Love is a Fallacy

2005-02-04T06:38:00.000-08:00

Oh hark! Love is many a wondrous thing. And one that it is, is that it's a freakin' disease.

I confess, that I never thought I would have to suffer through the ardous, self-doubting maze called Love. There. With a capital L. I'm in real deep sh---uhtrouble. Number one, when people are in love, they act like the fools they are not. Number two, they can't concentrate on any other dang thing. Three I have resorted to banging my head on the benchtop every physics practical, just trying to stop thinking about ...him.

Stoppit you damn freak.

In the eyes of lur...lu...yes I think I can say it...Love! Ah. He is a perfect being, enchanting and slick. In reality I suspect that he has a flawed nature, a gigantic ego and I'm better off without thinking about him. Animal attraction you know. (watches grizzly bears paw it out on ng channel)

So everytime he speaks I have trouble keeping a straight face, fighting valiently to keep the idiotic, blissful grin off my face. And when he does, oh heavenly thingummy, see the twisted expression I show, he does not smile. Ark, the sharp dagger of disppointment and crushed dignity cuts, gnaws and stamps upon the suitor's heart. Instead he gives me a puzzled look. Or a serious look. Or just simply blank. Be telepathic! , I holler in the empty recesses of my mind, know my thoughts! And then I totter away, defeated, looking like I normally do, but defeated.

Jaya, my dear friend, knows this dark, dank secret of mine. Well, since it's here, it can't be a secret anymore, so it is just dark and dank. (shrugs) Everytime he, oh Archilles' heel of mine, comes into whatever scene I'm at, she stands behind him or me, and gives a meaningful note with my name, or a very helpful snigger. I thank you, I really do.

He has a wonderful personality (whether this is true, I have yet to acertain), a dangerously intelligent look ( he is after all in this school...) , is a former prefect (strangely how the word closely resembes perfect), athletic and is amiable with seemingly everyone but me. Amiable, as in not popular, but as in everyone follows him because he is trustworthy and sincere. (Hearken to my wail, oh Pity! The fortress falls.)

So today is the beginning of the end of sanity again, dear crushed heart, another woeful blow to the pathetic resistance against the war of charms. I had signed up for SRP or the Science Research Programme, a pretty prestigeous programme, and the aptitude test is on the 19th of Febueary. Which meant that I had two weeks to prepare. Qianxing (is that his name? I can't really remember...) was going through a chemistry reference book in the library and the studiousness of it all affected me, (or should I say afflicted) so right now I'm going through the biology reference, which I am to exchange with him. It is a monstrosity of a book, hard-covered and weighing a ton. But if I get into the programme, it's well worth the effort.

I was walking home with BeeLuan, up the overhead bridge, toting the leaden weight with me, when he came walking down. The breath catches in the throat and the desire to dash mine own brains out till rationality reigns once more overcomes my being and I strove to give a non-commital hello. He sounds the trumpet, Hello, you guys going home?

BeeLuan, the more down-to-earth, says Yeah, we've just finished class.

Oh, said he.

Turning his gaze to my parcel bag, he voices, What do you have in that bag? It looks so heavy.( or something along those lines)

I speak foolishly and flippantly, my voice chorusing with Beeluan's as we both reply, It's a biology textbook. (she knows too, she's also joining SRP but has decided to avoid the path of Qianxing)

A bio textbook? He casts his eyes to heaven and I just know he thinks I'm a mugger. (Being a mugger means that you literally study your brains out. Which is not necessarily a bad thing...It just means you're so enthusiastic about the thing that you literally have zot social life. Or it could signify the lack of intelligence that you have to literally memorise the damn thing as you don't understand it at all.) The crook of the eyebrow tells me all I need to know. I could almost imagine him starting on a diatribe on how learning is not merely mugging, but active transcription of learning into vibrant debate. Oh God. ( I know that we're not supposed to use the Lord's name in vain, but this time it is a call for help, backup and reinforcements)

As the idiot digs his own grave, I say, Hey, want to see how heavy my bag is? With barely a nod of affirmation from said being, I hoist the bag suddenly and uncerimoniously on him. He gives an omph! of surprise. And I think he said something along the lines of You're mad!, but I am not sure as it was drowned by the thought that I might have killed him with my bag!

And once more he did not smile.

So I stumble from the encounter, maintaining dignity till the spectre of my mistake vanishes around the corner, when I wilt visibly once more, Behind BeeLuan of course, we wouldn't want her to get any ideas, don't we?

So I have half a mind to write a letter to my Angel (not him), another term for a pen-pal, whom we can ask for advice and guidance, about the war situation. Hopefully he/she doesn't tell him, otherwise I shall die of embarassment. Maybe I should say that it's a classmate who lusts after him and that I'm deathly in want of gossip material. Ergo, whether he has a lady in mind. ( Although I have many other things in mind that I would call a person like that. For example, a rival or a perfect being heaven-fated to suit him whilst I'm meant to waste away with my books. No I wouldn't insult her, if he thinks she is good enough for him, she is already far above me, the fortunate creature.)

Love is a disease, similar in terror to bubonic plagueand as desirable as measels in a Miss Universe Contest. I stand resolute.

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And all hands on Chereshire!

Self Depreciation- Linen Cut, Washed and Hung Out to Dry

2005-02-02T01:09:00.000-08:00

This is the chronicle of Chereshire's time at National Junior College, 2005-2006.

Righto. Down to the subject.

After spending four illustrious years in Nanyang Girls' High ( sounds fancy but I was mainly background noise to all the big events going on. Fantastic the way we never manage to accomplish anything.), after suffering the endless embarrassments of having being tagged as so-damn-chinese-orientated-such-that-I -regard-china-as-the-motherland, I have, finally and ardously so, escaped the prison I call my alma mater.

Fantastic that how the loyalty propaganda they drill into you rebounds once you leave the place, eh?

So for the first three months I have been uncerminously informed that I have been allotted to NJC. Damn! I was hoping to get into ACJC, but apparently my prelim marks were more than adequate. Bugger. So I went.

I saw.

And I like what I saw.

So it boils down to me hoping that I'll spend the rest of my JC life here, whole and hearty. Now that O'level result release date is plaguing me to hell. I hope I get enough points to stay here.

It is a huge and tremendous shame that the 2004 Nanyang class of four-fourteen had to be disbanded. We were just getting on so well together~ ( yes, complaints about the madness that is mugging brings all of different heart together like dirt to glue) It's quite sad, because they were the only frineds I pretty much had for the four years, all 63 of them. I couldn't make any more aqquaintances as the rest of NYGH ostracised the three classes. Damn childish mentality.

So here, I managed to find several gepers from other schools. So far I know of a few: Russel from Victoria, some poker-face from Raffles Institution, Jean, Cherie, Shuffie, Yingxiang, Zoe and me from Nanyang. Still, NJ's still a place where people carry their stereotypes with them. They think we're ultra-intelligent, prideful...ultimately a bunch of snots. Fantastic.
I've read in this book, where the main character is bloody furious because everyone is so shallow and lazy that they do not want to take the effort to find the truth, weaving their own conclusions on others. I know EXACTLY how he feels. Conversely, this could be applied to me. Maybe I'm too quick to judge everyone else.

So I have a new class. I've never been in a class with boys before so this is a rather piquant experience. Both in noise and smell. Gosh! Boys are filled with such nonsense!
I tell you this: they people here are obsessed with male-female relationships. Shows the hormones raging darlings! I've been linked up with the Russel from Victoria (Hello~? He's like a brother to me you damn sick minds) and a hundred ( it seems endless, do stop it Deb.) other incredibly strange characters in the stage of Life. Hardly the point of being here; we are supposed to be studying our bottoms off. Well... maybe later.

And hey, I'm not even attactive. No large luminous eyes, no full pouty lips, no porcelain complexions. There you go, the portrait of a blinkin' idiot.

So now I'm pounding the well-worn road of NJC, meandering, lost in the bloody huge campus for the bloody upteenth time and it is not my bloody fault that the architecture is identical for all four bloody blocks!

Bollocks to that.

Heigh-ho and Cheerio! And all hands on Chereshire!

Chronicles of a Terrarist

2005-02-01T21:15:00.000-08:00

Terminus Est. This is the Line of Division.