i should think to convert to a hermit on saturdays, when unwelcomed school kids tote metal cans strong enough to hold one million in change - i think - ask for offerings all around the island.
their "angelic" facial contortions are simply too much to bear! it is too discrepant to their usual dispositions and thus, makes me think twice, thrice even, before giving my two cents. i try my best not to look disgusted when a sweet (yeah right) face approaches with a "excuse me, would you like to donate?"
(there is something to be said about the way they phrase their requests, it's usually a rushed "skewmewwoululiktodonate?" and very agonizing on my tender ears who have the ability to spot vocal mistakes a mile away. despite their prowess, they are something else at gossip. haha.)
kids are mistaken if they think what they're doing equate charitable deeds, for they're simply being a nag and, in consequence, a convenient channel for the innocent public to lose their unnecessary change.
oh but i like keeping change. =)
their "angelic" facial contortions are simply too much to bear! it is too discrepant to their usual dispositions and thus, makes me think twice, thrice even, before giving my two cents. i try my best not to look disgusted when a sweet (yeah right) face approaches with a "excuse me, would you like to donate?"
(there is something to be said about the way they phrase their requests, it's usually a rushed "skewmewwoululiktodonate?" and very agonizing on my tender ears who have the ability to spot vocal mistakes a mile away. despite their prowess, they are something else at gossip. haha.)
kids are mistaken if they think what they're doing equate charitable deeds, for they're simply being a nag and, in consequence, a convenient channel for the innocent public to lose their unnecessary change.
oh but i like keeping change. =)
someone just told me, "omg diaryland is so cutesy, and you use it?"
in retrospect, i reckon it was a compliment of some sort but dubious loyalty for diaryland drove to me retort, "sure it's cutesy. but it also offers 100percent webpage customization. i don't see blogger doing that."
ppfffttt. what a stupid cow.
okay.
sometimes i resent mum for being so dear. in my opinion, mum hardly spares headspace over my well-being unless she's entrenched in guilt.
guilt is a mighty player in the game of life, i think. it drives people, including me, to extreme circumstances because if not, guilt gnaws at their inner-being, eating away their insides until they think they couldn't possibly live another minute without doing something to lighten up the self-condemnation.
hmmm. well. guilt is god. no?
so... oh hey, sunday's 2-for-1 movies never looked better. haha. we caught stepford psychos and catwhore over sunday. quite weak movies, imo, but stepford psychos was enjoyable. do not watch catwhore though, because the guys can go get hard-ons somewhere else - whip not included - and gals can live without the envy.
and another thing,
i decided to pencil in dates in my organiser for next semester (the super lax one with only two modules and gah, internship) - birthdays, public holidays and other important dates. its never looked more melancholic. us 7ners are turning the big two-oh in 2005, if nothing goes wrong, and it's just this weird thing to feel.
like, my, we're gonna be twenty. our ages for the next decade are going to be preceded by this nasty little two and and while i'm not dreading being twenty and up (quite the opposite), i wish i could still retain 19 candles on my cake while having people wish me "happy 20th!", "happy 21st!", "happy 22nd!" or even, god forbid, "happy 29th!".
gosh i sound like i'm turning forty. but i gather turning forty would earn a much more bereaved entry than this. i mean, of course turning 20 is better than being 40. the former is where one's life truly begins and the latter is where life, well, pretty much hits a brick wall and stops there (six more years to go for you, ping!).
singapore has a lot a lot of people over 40, come to think of it. if that is when life stands still, then wouldn't we, literally, have a lot of dead people walking around? cue haley joel osment's "i see dead people." hmmm, food for thought.
i hope you appreciate me talking exceptionally much in this entry. i usually forget half of what an entry's supposed to accomodate. it's so dreadful to be forgetful. i can remember (yay!) that i want to retrieve documents from my gmail, then when i do log on i will happily organise my inbox, log out, switch off the computer, watch some television, get ready for bed, wake up the next day, then remember what i was supposed to check my email for. d'oh!
see it's different from normal absent-minded-itis. because people usually have this gut feeling that they've forgotten something, and not remembering what. in my case, i cannot even remember that i've forgotten to do things! is oblivion bliss or what?
in retrospect, i reckon it was a compliment of some sort but dubious loyalty for diaryland drove to me retort, "sure it's cutesy. but it also offers 100percent webpage customization. i don't see blogger doing that."
ppfffttt. what a stupid cow.
okay.
sometimes i resent mum for being so dear. in my opinion, mum hardly spares headspace over my well-being unless she's entrenched in guilt.
guilt is a mighty player in the game of life, i think. it drives people, including me, to extreme circumstances because if not, guilt gnaws at their inner-being, eating away their insides until they think they couldn't possibly live another minute without doing something to lighten up the self-condemnation.
hmmm. well. guilt is god. no?
so... oh hey, sunday's 2-for-1 movies never looked better. haha. we caught stepford psychos and catwhore over sunday. quite weak movies, imo, but stepford psychos was enjoyable. do not watch catwhore though, because the guys can go get hard-ons somewhere else - whip not included - and gals can live without the envy.
and another thing,
i decided to pencil in dates in my organiser for next semester (the super lax one with only two modules and gah, internship) - birthdays, public holidays and other important dates. its never looked more melancholic. us 7ners are turning the big two-oh in 2005, if nothing goes wrong, and it's just this weird thing to feel.
like, my, we're gonna be twenty. our ages for the next decade are going to be preceded by this nasty little two and and while i'm not dreading being twenty and up (quite the opposite), i wish i could still retain 19 candles on my cake while having people wish me "happy 20th!", "happy 21st!", "happy 22nd!" or even, god forbid, "happy 29th!".
gosh i sound like i'm turning forty. but i gather turning forty would earn a much more bereaved entry than this. i mean, of course turning 20 is better than being 40. the former is where one's life truly begins and the latter is where life, well, pretty much hits a brick wall and stops there (six more years to go for you, ping!).
singapore has a lot a lot of people over 40, come to think of it. if that is when life stands still, then wouldn't we, literally, have a lot of dead people walking around? cue haley joel osment's "i see dead people." hmmm, food for thought.
i hope you appreciate me talking exceptionally much in this entry. i usually forget half of what an entry's supposed to accomodate. it's so dreadful to be forgetful. i can remember (yay!) that i want to retrieve documents from my gmail, then when i do log on i will happily organise my inbox, log out, switch off the computer, watch some television, get ready for bed, wake up the next day, then remember what i was supposed to check my email for. d'oh!
see it's different from normal absent-minded-itis. because people usually have this gut feeling that they've forgotten something, and not remembering what. in my case, i cannot even remember that i've forgotten to do things! is oblivion bliss or what?
someone just told me, "omg diaryland is so cutesy, and you use it?"
in retrospect, i reckon it was a compliment of some sort but dubious loyalty for diaryland drove to me retort, "sure it's cutesy. but it also offers 100percent webpage customization. i don't see blogger doing that."
ppfffttt. what a stupid cow.
okay.
sometimes i resent mum for being so dear. in my opinion, mum hardly spares headspace over my well-being unless she's entrenched in guilt.
guilt is a mighty player in the game of life, i think. it drives people, including me, to extreme circumstances because if not, guilt gnaws at their inner-being, eating away their insides until they think they couldn't possibly live another minute without doing something to lighten up the self-condemnation.
hmmm. well. guilt is god. no?
so... oh hey, sunday's 2-for-1 movies never looked better. haha. we caught stepford psychos and catwhore over sunday. quite weak movies, imo, but stepford psychos was enjoyable. do not watch catwhore though, because the guys can go get hard-ons somewhere else - whip not included - and gals can live without the envy.
and another thing,
i decided to pencil in dates in my organiser for next semester (the super lax one with only two modules and gah, internship) - birthdays, public holidays and other important dates. its never looked more melancholic. us 7ners are turning the big two-oh in 2005, if nothing goes wrong, and it's just this weird thing to feel.
like, my, we're gonna be twenty. our ages for the next decade are going to be preceded by this nasty little two and and while i'm not dreading being twenty and up (quite the opposite), i wish i could still retain 19 candles on my cake while having people wish me "happy 20th!", "happy 21st!", "happy 22nd!" or even, god forbid, "happy 29th!".
gosh i sound like i'm turning forty. but i gather turning forty would earn a much more bereaved entry than this. i mean, of course turning 20 is better than being 40. the former is where one's life truly begins and the latter is where life, well, pretty much hits a brick wall and stops there (six more years to go for you, ping!).
singapore has a lot a lot of people over 40, come to think of it. if that is when life stands still, then wouldn't we, literally, have a lot of dead people walking around? cue haley joel osment's "i see dead people." hmmm, food for thought.
i hope you appreciate me talking exceptionally much in this entry. i usually forget half of what an entry's supposed to accomodate. it's so dreadful to be forgetful. i can remember (yay!) that i want to retrieve documents from my gmail, then when i do log on i will happily organise my inbox, log out, switch off the computer, watch some television, get ready for bed, wake up the next day, then remember what i was supposed to check my email for. d'oh!
see it's different from normal absent-minded-itis. because people usually have this gut feeling that they've forgotten something, and not remembering what. in my case, i cannot even remember that i've forgotten to do things! is oblivion bliss or what?
in retrospect, i reckon it was a compliment of some sort but dubious loyalty for diaryland drove to me retort, "sure it's cutesy. but it also offers 100percent webpage customization. i don't see blogger doing that."
ppfffttt. what a stupid cow.
okay.
sometimes i resent mum for being so dear. in my opinion, mum hardly spares headspace over my well-being unless she's entrenched in guilt.
guilt is a mighty player in the game of life, i think. it drives people, including me, to extreme circumstances because if not, guilt gnaws at their inner-being, eating away their insides until they think they couldn't possibly live another minute without doing something to lighten up the self-condemnation.
hmmm. well. guilt is god. no?
so... oh hey, sunday's 2-for-1 movies never looked better. haha. we caught stepford psychos and catwhore over sunday. quite weak movies, imo, but stepford psychos was enjoyable. do not watch catwhore though, because the guys can go get hard-ons somewhere else - whip not included - and gals can live without the envy.
and another thing,
i decided to pencil in dates in my organiser for next semester (the super lax one with only two modules and gah, internship) - birthdays, public holidays and other important dates. its never looked more melancholic. us 7ners are turning the big two-oh in 2005, if nothing goes wrong, and it's just this weird thing to feel.
like, my, we're gonna be twenty. our ages for the next decade are going to be preceded by this nasty little two and and while i'm not dreading being twenty and up (quite the opposite), i wish i could still retain 19 candles on my cake while having people wish me "happy 20th!", "happy 21st!", "happy 22nd!" or even, god forbid, "happy 29th!".
gosh i sound like i'm turning forty. but i gather turning forty would earn a much more bereaved entry than this. i mean, of course turning 20 is better than being 40. the former is where one's life truly begins and the latter is where life, well, pretty much hits a brick wall and stops there (six more years to go for you, ping!).
singapore has a lot a lot of people over 40, come to think of it. if that is when life stands still, then wouldn't we, literally, have a lot of dead people walking around? cue haley joel osment's "i see dead people." hmmm, food for thought.
i hope you appreciate me talking exceptionally much in this entry. i usually forget half of what an entry's supposed to accomodate. it's so dreadful to be forgetful. i can remember (yay!) that i want to retrieve documents from my gmail, then when i do log on i will happily organise my inbox, log out, switch off the computer, watch some television, get ready for bed, wake up the next day, then remember what i was supposed to check my email for. d'oh!
see it's different from normal absent-minded-itis. because people usually have this gut feeling that they've forgotten something, and not remembering what. in my case, i cannot even remember that i've forgotten to do things! is oblivion bliss or what?
yesterday's lecture was out of this world, to say the least.
at 8am, no one really expects a rousing crowd but i did make a point to be on time (because i took a cab) despite having caught the olympics the night before.
so i was feeling very sleepy (so's everyone else) half an hour into the lecture, when this guy stumbles in, and picks the seat behind us. what luck, eh?
he must have not had his breakfast, this coursemate, because the rustle rustle of plastic bags and mmph mmph of chewing alerted me to food being devoured right under our noses. i didn't salivate, of course =)
after breakfast our friend decides to down some H2O, then (hopefully) tries to settle down for the rest of the lecture. now i'm very thankful for this because his restlessness was beginning to get to me.
if i had been in knowledge of what was to come next, i reckon i'd gladly trade restlessness.
because he started clearing his throat. mmpph-hem. mmppphhh-mph.
mmppp-hmph.
not exactly loud ahems which makes you think he's trying to hint something, but little noises occuring with perfect regularity, at precisely three second intervals.
remarkable, no?
but then they start to turn into grunts, which is obviously quite distracting. of course anything would be distracting since andrew ang as a lecturer is like being in hibernation.
then grunts, due to my overactive imagination, start to sound like he's, well, tickling mr. happy.
i've never been so glad to get out of lecture in my entire life.
at 8am, no one really expects a rousing crowd but i did make a point to be on time (because i took a cab) despite having caught the olympics the night before.
so i was feeling very sleepy (so's everyone else) half an hour into the lecture, when this guy stumbles in, and picks the seat behind us. what luck, eh?
he must have not had his breakfast, this coursemate, because the rustle rustle of plastic bags and mmph mmph of chewing alerted me to food being devoured right under our noses. i didn't salivate, of course =)
after breakfast our friend decides to down some H2O, then (hopefully) tries to settle down for the rest of the lecture. now i'm very thankful for this because his restlessness was beginning to get to me.
if i had been in knowledge of what was to come next, i reckon i'd gladly trade restlessness.
because he started clearing his throat. mmpph-hem. mmppphhh-mph.
mmppp-hmph.
not exactly loud ahems which makes you think he's trying to hint something, but little noises occuring with perfect regularity, at precisely three second intervals.
remarkable, no?
but then they start to turn into grunts, which is obviously quite distracting. of course anything would be distracting since andrew ang as a lecturer is like being in hibernation.
then grunts, due to my overactive imagination, start to sound like he's, well, tickling mr. happy.
i've never been so glad to get out of lecture in my entire life.
i'm currently thumbing through sylvia plath's the bell jar and saw this:
"i spent a lot of time having imaginary conversations with buddy willard. he was a couple of years older than i was and very scientific, so he could always prove things. when i was with him i had to work to keep my head above water.
"these conversations i had in my mind usually repeated the beginnings of conversations i'd really had with buddy, only they finished with me answering him back quite sharply, instead of me sitting around and saying, 'i guess so'."
how astoundingly much like myself.
well it's a bit unsettling to have novels describe oneself so aptly and accurately. i came across this circumstance for the first time while perusing patricia highsmith's carol (the main character said she couldn't picture her parents ever having intercourse), and it just sort of perturbed me that some author or character's been written to share the same exact quirk as me.
let's digress.
it's so easy to fluctuate between love and hate isn't it? one minute your parents spoil you and you think to, perhaps, never raise arguments with them ever again;
then the next minute they're exhibiting obvious favouritism (a deadly sin, imo) and you imagine you could very nearly asphyxiate them. how weird.
"i spent a lot of time having imaginary conversations with buddy willard. he was a couple of years older than i was and very scientific, so he could always prove things. when i was with him i had to work to keep my head above water.
"these conversations i had in my mind usually repeated the beginnings of conversations i'd really had with buddy, only they finished with me answering him back quite sharply, instead of me sitting around and saying, 'i guess so'."
how astoundingly much like myself.
well it's a bit unsettling to have novels describe oneself so aptly and accurately. i came across this circumstance for the first time while perusing patricia highsmith's carol (the main character said she couldn't picture her parents ever having intercourse), and it just sort of perturbed me that some author or character's been written to share the same exact quirk as me.
let's digress.
it's so easy to fluctuate between love and hate isn't it? one minute your parents spoil you and you think to, perhaps, never raise arguments with them ever again;
then the next minute they're exhibiting obvious favouritism (a deadly sin, imo) and you imagine you could very nearly asphyxiate them. how weird.
engineering boys shouldn't strut around our campus carrying sleek uber cool apple macintosh iBooks.
and they shouldn't show it off at the foodcourt on the pretense of actually using the damn contraption.
ms wenda leong shouldn't bring her apple macintosh powerbook (i think) to lectures!
desiree shouldn't be allowed to use her divine apple ipod in public!
nobody should be allowed to use nifty apple gadgets!
i'm not jealous, i have a laptop too. it just happens to be black as opposed to white, and named toshiba as opposed to apple.
i too have an mp3 player, a black creative! imagine that! spiffy, ain't it?
what kind of a name is Apple anyway? never name products after fruits! it's silly!
and they shouldn't show it off at the foodcourt on the pretense of actually using the damn contraption.
ms wenda leong shouldn't bring her apple macintosh powerbook (i think) to lectures!
desiree shouldn't be allowed to use her divine apple ipod in public!
nobody should be allowed to use nifty apple gadgets!
i'm not jealous, i have a laptop too. it just happens to be black as opposed to white, and named toshiba as opposed to apple.
i too have an mp3 player, a black creative! imagine that! spiffy, ain't it?
what kind of a name is Apple anyway? never name products after fruits! it's silly!
in the midst of gossip today we brought up how majority of bloggers tend to park themselves on the depression shelf for a far longer season than necessary.
it's notably common to read about people who "blog because they want to vent their frustrations". too common for comfort, i think.
think about it, how long can you sustain a "depression" journal? you may shoot back a defiant "forever" but what about your readers?
"fuck the readers," you say, "i have a right to post what i want."
don't kid yourself.
if you still want to argue, why not chuck the journal offline and see if it does the same for you.
i don't really understand, neither do i see the point of, having entry after entry of god-why-didnt-you-just-let-me-die or i-miss-him-so-much-i-never-should-have-broken-up or even anguish-is-my-best-friend types.
these journals or journal-writers just seem to be dying to proclaim, "i look normal on the outside, but pal, you have no idea how i feel right now." they all behave to convey the synonymous message: humanity is suffering inside.
in a nutshell, i hate reading these kind of blogs. they're as boring as watching my nails grow and only serve to fuddle the reader. (on second thought, does said reader exist?)
ok, it's not like my journal's been happy.com or even barney.com, but hey at least dolor does not permeate my blog 86,400 seconds a day!
so i reckon fAlcHi0N (in dk's blog) said it best, "if you only use it as an outlet for frustration and people come around and relate with you for it, it's only right to try and maintain a blog to show a complete picture of yourself. So when the good times come (and they will) you shouldn't abandon them just because you have no need for this outlet any longer. Instead use it as a new outlet to share your joy and life as we are interested regardless."
word, dude.
it's notably common to read about people who "blog because they want to vent their frustrations". too common for comfort, i think.
think about it, how long can you sustain a "depression" journal? you may shoot back a defiant "forever" but what about your readers?
"fuck the readers," you say, "i have a right to post what i want."
don't kid yourself.
if you still want to argue, why not chuck the journal offline and see if it does the same for you.
i don't really understand, neither do i see the point of, having entry after entry of god-why-didnt-you-just-let-me-die or i-miss-him-so-much-i-never-should-have-broken-up or even anguish-is-my-best-friend types.
these journals or journal-writers just seem to be dying to proclaim, "i look normal on the outside, but pal, you have no idea how i feel right now." they all behave to convey the synonymous message: humanity is suffering inside.
in a nutshell, i hate reading these kind of blogs. they're as boring as watching my nails grow and only serve to fuddle the reader. (on second thought, does said reader exist?)
ok, it's not like my journal's been happy.com or even barney.com, but hey at least dolor does not permeate my blog 86,400 seconds a day!
so i reckon fAlcHi0N (in dk's blog) said it best, "if you only use it as an outlet for frustration and people come around and relate with you for it, it's only right to try and maintain a blog to show a complete picture of yourself. So when the good times come (and they will) you shouldn't abandon them just because you have no need for this outlet any longer. Instead use it as a new outlet to share your joy and life as we are interested regardless."
word, dude.
i caught Michael Chiang's Private Parts today.
very neat, if i do say so myself! mightily hilarious, witty and tender. the first part warmed us audience up pretty fast, Lavinia's (kevin murphy) adroit quips always make us crack up. you just have to love her character.
Mirabella, on the other hand, is not exactly entirely pensive. she has her comic moments as well, especially about warren's 'equipment'. i adore her posh BBC accent, though it was more fitting for a man than a woman, much less a transsexual. lol.
warren (timothy nga) is one helluva nondescript character. talk show host, poor chap who injures his private parts in a golf accident, has jamie yeo as girlfriend, too embarrassed to be seen at sex change clinic... et cetera et cetera.
reckon the warren character's designed to blend into nothingness; unlike lavinia, who grabs one's attention and refuses to let go, which in fact is great as she was deeelightful to watch.
pacing of the play was fine too, though they hit a more serious tone after transmission and it was kinda hard adjusting, in my opinion.
anyhow, today's the last day. my rating: 3.5/5.
i never caught this play during its run in 1992 (i think), so i'll spare you guys the comparison, you can get that from saturday's straits times anyway. i'm miffed that the reviewer, whose name i didn't bother to note, just had to pit the old Private Parts against this new contemporary version. why can't they be two separate entities? i think it's an enjoyable play if one paid the old version no heed.
stupid straits times reviewer should be whacked.
very neat, if i do say so myself! mightily hilarious, witty and tender. the first part warmed us audience up pretty fast, Lavinia's (kevin murphy) adroit quips always make us crack up. you just have to love her character.
Mirabella, on the other hand, is not exactly entirely pensive. she has her comic moments as well, especially about warren's 'equipment'. i adore her posh BBC accent, though it was more fitting for a man than a woman, much less a transsexual. lol.
warren (timothy nga) is one helluva nondescript character. talk show host, poor chap who injures his private parts in a golf accident, has jamie yeo as girlfriend, too embarrassed to be seen at sex change clinic... et cetera et cetera.
reckon the warren character's designed to blend into nothingness; unlike lavinia, who grabs one's attention and refuses to let go, which in fact is great as she was deeelightful to watch.
pacing of the play was fine too, though they hit a more serious tone after transmission and it was kinda hard adjusting, in my opinion.
anyhow, today's the last day. my rating: 3.5/5.
i never caught this play during its run in 1992 (i think), so i'll spare you guys the comparison, you can get that from saturday's straits times anyway. i'm miffed that the reviewer, whose name i didn't bother to note, just had to pit the old Private Parts against this new contemporary version. why can't they be two separate entities? i think it's an enjoyable play if one paid the old version no heed.
stupid straits times reviewer should be whacked.
