wednesday

danielf came over to drink tea and watch disney movies and remind me that I should watch oprah. I like how I can spend one whole day talking to danielf, with neither of us ever running out of things to say.

I would write more but I can't really be bothered right now and I'm not feeling very inspired to write.

photos

I was so bored, I uploaded photos.

faces

who would have thought that eight years on, I'd go back and consult the pillow that my friends signed to remember their names and look them up? they all look so different now, in a wonderful way. I can still recognise them.

Nikki. Jenny. Caitlin. Alina. Alexandra. Jamie. Valeria. Claire. the list goes on and on. I wish I could go back to Maryland again. Nikki's in the university now I think. I would love to go back and see Stoneridge and the teachers and visit Nikki. Jenny too, but she moved to Ohio.

hiding

I am hiding in my room away from mom's friends. Hopefully mom won't take the liberty to give them a tour of the house and intrude on my solitude. After sitting with them for an hour and listening to the idle chatter which was amusing at first, but became more and more intolerable, especially when one of them started making wild gestures close to my face, I had to retreat.

really, listening to eight women sit at a table and talk about rain[and I don't mean the weather] is both amusingly ridiculous and disgusting. my mom wasn't one of them, thank goodness.

anxiety

So I have been offered a place at Nottingham and Southampton. Their replies came in very large packages in the mail. Now I'm really anxious about my reply from Warwick. I'll be able to judge whether their reply will be favourable just by looking at the size of the package.

I hope it comes soon. I really hope I got an offer. I really hope my actual A level results will be good.

I mean some times I feel like God has been really really really nice to me and given me lots of chances. I didn't think I deserved what I got for PSLE. I was surprised to see my O level grade. Now what about A levels? I am really scared.

but I should just have faith in God and trust that everything will turn out for the best; there's a reason for everything. well, it's easier said than done really. I'm still nervous.

will power

mom wanted to go home after dinner. dad wanted to go to borders. mom didn't want to go to borders. you'll just spend more money on books that you won't finish. dad wouldn't stop whining and whining. pleeease mag. please please pleeeeease. but mom wasn't persuaded to alter her course home. no! we're going home. well, until dad put his palms together and put on a very pathetic face and said pleeeeeeeeease mag. which of course caused Iris and I to burst out laughing in the back seat. real, gut aching laughs.

but mom was adamant. that is, until we were approaching the entrance to the high way and dad started gesticulating wildly; trying to tell the car to go left through his gestures. Alpha and Omega. it was one of those moments when you laugh so hard that you go temporarily blind. so in the end, through dad's sheer will power and his ability to persuade the car to do his bidding, we went to borders and spent one hundred and fifty dollars on books.

Mary

Mary was sitting alone on the pavement. people walked pass her. It would be wrong to say that she was as invisible to them as colour is to a dog. In fact there was a clear radius around Mary that no one entered. They all noticed the squalid figure and altered their path just a little to avoid her. avoid the air around her. no, they didn't walk pass her without seeing her there; even dogs can smell.

It must have been the smell. The smell of unwashed linen. The smell of wet clothes that didn't dry properly. The odour of a person who hadn't used soap in a long while. The smell of failure. They were afraid of her. The quiet figure sitting in the dirt by the side of the road, slumped over herself and clutching her rags to herself. More afraid than they were of crazy carl on the other side of town. He would shout and rant at passers by. He was a bitter man. At least his behaviour gave allowance for indignance; In what way is it my fault that you have ended up here? But Mary, oh Mary, was the epitome of futility; caked hair, dirt under her broken nails and flies buzzing around her that she couldn't be bothered to brush away. Mary, who never blamed anyone and hardly spoke to anyone because she had no one. They were afraid the dirt and hopelessness and failure would rub off on them, transfer to them like an infection. They were afraid of the guilt. They were afraid of being afraid and the guilt that would come along with it. Mary's silence inspired more than crazy carl's angry shouts.

letters

so many things left unsaid. please tell me what they were before you become so far gone that we'll both have diminished into vague misty memories.

alone

Mary asked if she wanted to go to sleep
and Mary replied,
alright, I am tired.

Mary tucked herself in.
Mary sang Mary to sleep.
there wasn't anyone else to
sing Mary to sleep.

Mary was tired
of missing the something
that wasn't there.

Mary didn't know any better
what the something was.
she had never known what the something was.

anxiety

killer whales haunt my dreams. how retarded can dreams get. they want to eat me.

sleep doesn't equate to rest anymore. sleep is another night of anxiety. another night running down corridors in blind panic and getting lost in buildings. another night of being afraid that any moment the stingrays will attack me. another bus accident. another night of pulling dying people out of the wreckage. another night of lost hopes.

I want to go to church. some non frivolous mass with Latin hymns and serious prayer.

endings

maybe I can go to sleep tonight and not wake up tomorrow morning. not wake up in the afternoon or evening. not wake up the next day. just not wake up. maybe I'll just never wake up and be put into a box that will be shoved into an incinerator.

it would be nice never having to care about the politics of the church, or those between denominations. never having to chase after a goal that you're not sure exists half of the time. never having to be afraid that you're going down a path blind and that no one will be there to prevent you from falling into a ditch. worse, they'll just stand by and let you fall into a ditch. even worse, they'll watch and wait and point and laugh when you finally fall into that god damned ditch.

tomorrow when I wake up, I'll get out of bed and do something pointless.

apathy

you know, I don't care. after having a long deflating talk with danielfong, I just don't care. I'm just too exhausted to bother.

poke your fun, it's nothing new. I don't care anymore. this all looks so familiar. nothing can be done about the damage that's been done. being frustrated because of being so helpless over the effects of old mistakes is so tiring. apathy is a convenient option.

trauma

after drifting off to sleep, I was awoken very violently some time this morning by martino morelli who was using a green ink pen to draw all over my face none too gently. and so ensued a very confusing struggle. good thing we didn't poke each others' eyes out.

I wasn't aware of the time. I went to the bathroom to scrub the ink off my face. apparently deb and martino were making and answering calls on my phone while I was gone. and when I came back, I was told it was 4 am by a voice on the other end of the phone, who was returning a call. I crawled out of bed four hours later to get ready for another day at work.

brilliant person in charge made me skip mass to be at work on time. god damn, he was later than I was.

chasing cars and thoughts

If I lay here
If I just lay here
would you lie with me and just forget the world?

forget what we're told
before we get too old
show me a garden that bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes they're all I can see


I listened to the song over and over at work today. It made me ache painfully for the simplicity of the past. not childhood really, that was never that simple, but the mindset; when it was ok to just run off and pick flowers or sleep on the pavement. that was simple. that was when we believed in true love and fairy tales.

and now all we have left is being bitter about having foolishly believed all of that once upon a time. no matter how much we want to go back.

purpose

what if you don't have a purpose? what if all you're supposed to do is have one or two kids and die? like Hitler's mother. I mean what if the only purpose in her life was giving birth to a hate filled dictator who was responsible for the death of thousands and who's probably some where in hell now getting pineapples shoved up his ass.

what would be the point of living at all. I'd rather be born a bird.

twothousandsix

funorama
muse
muse: a night to remember
Sydney
A levels
a lot of sentosa trips
graduation dinner
shopping and drinking with martina
every other little moment of fun and laughter that I shared with you; studying, swimming, eating, studying more, practising, studying even more, laughing, joking, loving.

out of the eighteen years that I have been alive, this year was the best and happiest.

I am so thankful for it all; every moment. I am sad to see it go; who knows where we will be taken now? where will we be swept off to? will you still be there? still holding my hand?

In a way, studying for the A levels was great because we were all together. studying in the hub, void deck, siberia, the library, nl10. I really loved how everyone was helping each other and supporting each other. we bought food for each other. subway, marshmallows, paddle pop, milo, cookies, porridge, french fries and a lot of other junk food. and how some times we just did stupid things like capturing frogs and walking on tables to relieve the stress.

on the last day of bandfest when I stood on stage in the concert hall when nobody was around and realised it would probably be my last time on that stage. I said good bye to the hall and to the memories of all the times when we performed. I'll really miss all that. performing with you

and among other things, there are dreams that I have to bid farewell to. dreams and wishes that never came true.

metaphorically

I spent one year collecting sea shells. It didn't mean much at first. but over time, as my collection of big and small shells grew, it did. and I loved each shell and memory. my friends and I built castles with them. and after all that time, laughing and joking all that, I chained myself to a giant boulder and hurled myself into the deep ocean.

how could I tell you that? how could you ever understand how horrible it was to wave goodbye to my castle of sea shells as I sunk beneath the surface of the water? It all happened in slow motion. It always does.