I'm trying this new thing now called weeding out people from my life. I've been very angry, and then I've been ready to forgive but some bloody people are just not worthy. I cannot explain this... anger as well as Xiaxue. Heck, i can't even decide if it's an anger or not. I think it's part disappointment, part betrayal and part acceptance. All my friendships have broken down. Ok, no, only 2, but maybe only isn't such an appropriate word. They've been 2 very important friendships. The first one is with Minquan and the second one is with my maid. It's been fun and all, but everything ends when i wake up.

Minquan has always been sort of fake. Sort of appearance-conscious. Sort of weak. Sort of lame. In short, sort of a loser. I've always felt like his personality wasn't very strong. He has a weak character and few morals and scruples. When we were all super good friends, until we even made the Dongs and shit, I've already felt that. But i couldn't consider us not being a quadru-siamese nonsense-spouting entity, so i just let everything go. I ignored those little signs of selfishness, laughed them off like how i'd laugh at the death of a fly, a little ironical and completely mirthless. In Yiting's words, there was seriously something wrong with this dogdamned friendship. It's just me, I've made myself blind to this crap all along. Now it's suddenly become all clear now. He admitted it himself, that he loves only himself, his sis and his parents, and that he has never really given a damn about any of us, or even any of his friends for that matter. NONE. I wouldn't mind if he had treated one person with no blood ties to him sincerely, but no, not one. He doesn't give a fuck. And he told me, "Fuck you stop calling me fake. Go fuck yourself". If he is not fake, then what the hell is he. He said he's treated us like entertainment tools all along. Just what I've always felt about him, but chose not to confront. I told him he was self-obessessed and he told me not to pretend like I'm not. He told me if i wasn't I'd stop putting all that make up and shit and be like the Hunchback of Notre Dame (it's the name i gave this SH1 in our school who is hideous and seriously looked deformed like the Quasimodo. And he kept staring at us. Fuck man. ) He said "If you weren't self-obsessed you'd be like the Quasimodo, unaffected". PLEASE. The self-obsessed i was talking about wasn't even in that fucking context. I meant that he only cared about his own feelings, i meant self-obsessed that way. In the end he had to interpret it image-wise. As usual. It's all about surface appearance once again. He's always about touching only the surface, the humour, the looks, the company. Never any deeper thoughts. Never any deeper emotions. And for the entire year that I've thought we could be friends forever, i finally see that he's just like all the strangers i meet everyday, yet another hi-bye friend, yet another stone-cold machine.

My maid too. She's also become so cold-hearted. She's only started becoming like this recently, like 2 months ago when we moved to the new house. I hated the house, i thought it was the root of all the discord. In some way it indirectly is but i think it's more about how we all choose to behave. At the start of this year i resolved to be happier because last year when we just moved in it was chaos, at least one person crying everyday, no appetite, all attitude. And Amoeba. I was sick of being depressed the whole time. And when i was crying like crazy in my own stuffy room and the rain was pouring outside. A thunderstorm and i envied it for all the screaming it did. I couldn't. I envied the birds for being able to fly. I even envied slugs for being free to go wherever they wanted to, as long as they could crawl fast enough and you can be sure I'd eke my life out and crawl damn bloody fucking fast. The disease is on a different continent after all. I messaged Yiting and Yifeng and told them i was dying of depression. Made a fuss out of everything. Went on total pessimist mode. I called Kangli up to listen to her pondering silences. I made Lixin worried sick. I felt better. I didn't tell Minquan because i knew he'd never understand. I told my maid.

And such were things. I trusted her with everything. I loved her with a kind of passion that wasn't really unfounded but she's changed. I cannot understand why she and Minquan must both admit to not giving a damn about me at all at the same time.

She didn't admit but please, I'm a writer, I see these sorts of things. I see into people's souls. I know exactly what you're thinking even if you don't. I've a keen eye for this sort of things, intention-reading, and an even keener heart.  I told Kangli long before that I thought Jonathan was a bad person and she said i was being overly sensitive and paranoid. But i was right. I'm always right on this sort of things. I just... I just knew i had to defend myself against anyone fake.

Today as i was walking to school i was still thinking about Minquan. And then i thought about what he told me at the start of last year, that whoever offended me was in deep shit. And we laughed about it and now it's come true for him. I can't even help it. It's a defense technique. I thought back about everyone I've ever hated and suddenly it was like all the clouds were suddenly parted, all along the people I've hated were all fake. The people i hated mot were fake people. Of all the categories of people to hate on, trust me, they are the most worthy. I've got a keen eye for this.

Thank goodness my temper is super bad and my senses keen. I've been lucky to have driven all the fake people out of my life. Though the occasional disgust at their actions and their faces does creep up sometimes

I never knew i actually planned what to write. I just thought about this blog post for 30 minutes in the shower. Maybe that's why all my showers are so long, because i always think like a bloody philosopher when all that water is touching me all over, and maybe that's why all my hair keeps falling out. Ever since my dad made me collect my hair off the floor after showering after we moved, i realised how many bloody tonnes of hair i shed everyday. It's like maybe 4 or 5 strands but hell, it's a bloody tonne.

Yesterday i tried to write about how the friendship with Yifeng and Minquan broke up but i felt despicable blogging about it unresolved, like I'm bitching behind their backs. I don't want to really tell anyone how i feel because i know nobody would really understand what i think because they're not directly involved.They'll give advice that is totally useless.Or they'll bitch about Yifeng and Minquan after I tell them and nobody bitches about my friends. Even if we've kinda fallen out and i shouldn't actually be giving a fuck. But no. Nobody touches my friends. Or dog. Or maid. Or parents. Even my grandma. It's only ok if i say they suck. Nobody else should say it. I still feel fiercely protective over this... friendship even though i feel ok not speaking to Minquan possibly forever. Contradiction. The Yifeng thing is all my fault. And not my fault at the same time. Minquan... I don't know. Ok enough about them. If i go on the whole thing is just going to spill.

Sigh. Ok let's talk about eye contact. I like eye contact (i also like eye contacts, just saying.). I think eye contact is super important. It says you give a fuck about whoever is saying what. It says sincerity. It says you're earnest. Eye contact is a positive... good. But eye contact between strangers is freaking freaky. It's only ok to have eye contact with babies. I always do and i always scare the shit out of them. I have succeeded. And they cry whereby i will calmly get down the train at the next stop and leave the rest of the commuters to silently suffer the screaming tirade. It brings me a twisted satisfaction every time i do that. But recently I've had the shit scared out of me myself. Ok i am not scared shitless, i am too badger for that, but disgusted and mortified, i am. 2 days ago this teacher in my school he kept staring at me, into my eyes, without breaking eye contact even after I've walked too far away to allow him to keep the eye contact without moving a body part, so he just turned his head and went on holding the eye contact. finally i broke it off because i didn't want to move a body part to keep eye contact. I didn't want to break it at first. Every time old women stare at me with a look of anger and disapproval in their eyes i always look back until they slither away or at least know who the fuck has more powerful eyes. Every time i make someone break the eye contact first i feel bloody superior but i cannot take this guy's eye contact. Bloody freaky. Like a serial killer or something. Nia saw also. And she was as freaked as me. Today after the road run I met him again. This time i was with Yiting climbing the stairs and bloody hell, he kept the eye contact again. He was sitting on the steps. And when we climbed up the stairs he turned his whole body to face me. Yiting saw and she was freaked out too. And today when i was walking from the bus stop to the library to return Kangli's book, some guy also stared at me, eye contact and all. At first i didn't actually notice, then i broke the eye contact and stared at the floor and then when i looked up to check if he was still staring that fucker was still staring. I gave him narrowed eyes, hoping to spell "Don't Mess With Me" but most probably just spells "Asian". I am very perplexed by this. I asked my maid why and she said it's because I'm pretty. But no what! I think i look very normal. I'm not hideous like most of the NJ population(have you seen the she-men?! yes, plural. And Jo is the prettiest one of the lot. Look at her skin. If only she'd change that darn hair. But she'll never. And i like her like that. But not in the lesbo-butch way. I just like her for who she is) but then I'm not pretty either. Pretty is... maybe innocence and purity? Beautiful is a gripping emotion. But I'm neither of those. I'm not pure nor innocent and i certainly do not seize people by their hearts.And hell, i just realised i lack feminity too. I think Yiting is feminine, she can half smile, she can sit quietly. I cannot. When i sit quietly you can expect there is some melancholy in me. Yiting's quiet is a kind of personal enjoyment. I think this dates back to eras where the duty of women was to sit in the pavillion contentedly sipping tea thinking of life's true ideals.But I'm not dissatisfied with how I look, i am very satisfied actually.(Except with my eyelids which are sometimes freaking not equal and can't be tamed like that freaking Miley Destiny Cyrus. Bloody attitude in the wrong place) I'm satisfied because i can actually do stuff to my face. If I were born crazy pretty what fun i would have missed with makeup. And if i were born crazy pretty i would feel insecure about everything else about myself, especially my personality. I'd think people liked me because i was pretty and not because of who i was. I think i would have become awfully withdrawn. That's why I'm so puzzled, no, not just puzzled, perplexed. I checked. I didn't look odd. I didn't stain my shirt or my skirt. I did not suddenly grow a tumour. I did not have bugs in my hair. I don't know why the fuck they all stare at me. If they'd wanted someone's face to masturbate to then surely the girls on the porn sites are prettier. I mean, there are so many girls, there is bound to be so many others prettier than me and i am not even. Oh fuck, what if somehow my face, or someone who looks like me, is a super famous porn star?? If they say they're turned on by who i am, like my personality, then what the fuck, i haven't shown any bloody personality to them at all in the time of the eye contact ok. sigh. the world is so fucked up. I'll never get it. Next time someone stares at me with unfailing eye contact, i shall just walk up to them and ask is it my eyelids? and bore the shit out of them explaining why i want to paste them and there are 1001 reasons.

I bought a book called Yesterday's House by Mavis Cheek when i was 12 or 13, i can't remember.Read 5 pages of it and chucked it aside, then denounced Mavis Cheek as a horrible writer incapable of a book. But for some reason (ok the reason is i had to shit and when i shit i can't not read because the shit can't come out without reading material i don't know why) i picked up that book and now i can't stop reading it. Ok i can, but it makes sense to me now. What seemed to me at twelve years old like a monotonous complaint has become a comprehensible sympathy. It's a story about a house, I'm not done with it yet, but i think it's about never knowing what it's really like to fall in love and just diving straight to marriage. When she went to a debonair-"bohemian" as she calls it- party at 17 and fell in love with the bathroom, that bathroom that was heated, quality-lined, she thought she'd give anything for it. And i can totally understand, that wide-eyed bumpkin wonder at this whole new society she has never seen before. And when someone kisses her hand at the party, she's sold. And they eventually get married. And he gives her a bathroom exactly like the one she fell in love with. She thought she was happy. And it's tragic. 

I'm halfway through Catcher in the Rye and I must document all my feelings on it right now, in case I get to the end and feel different. Everybody's phony. Everybody's... troubled. But nobody seems to realise there's a trouble. I hate Holden Caulfield. His life is so messed up and he compensates by saying everything is messed up and everyone doesn't know they're messed up but heck, he's got the whole bevy of problems laid out in front of him, his entire path in cracks and he can't seem to do anything about it and he just thinks it's the paralysis of teenagehood, but heck, we all know it's not. It's an inherent failure complex. I hate Holden Caulfield because i am him. I am him not just at this point of my life. I have been him, i am him, and I will be him forever, if common logic prevails. Before i was him, i was one of those phonies. I grew up WANTING to be a phony. But one day i became him, against my choice, against my parents' choices, against everything. And if i ever got beaten up by a pimp for cheating a prostitute of five bucks, i would cry too because... I'd be sorry it was just five bucks but it wasn't my fault that he said it was five and now it's ten and i'd never give in, why is the world doing this to me? And this sick, sick feeling of leaving and nobody remembers, this sick, sick feeling of not being to identify with anyone, to scorn everyone for being a phony, i only know all too well. And you wonder what's going on in all their lives but you never figure out what's going on in yours. And that's why Blink 182 is so good. Because they tell me everything about my mistakes, about not wanting to leave my mistakes. But i know somewhere deep down i me that there is something very very wrong with liking blink182 and this book. Because i live in a world of phonies. And if i know this, then where am i going to go from here? Liking these two things, it's a form of denial. I feel so much pain right now i could die. And it kills me. Like how, when I speak with the phonies everyday, it kills me. It kills me so much. And to know it's going to be phonies forever. I don't want to be two-faced. It kills me. Fate fell short this time, I'll leave when i wanna. It kills me when i am better off than someone else and the person wants to be like me. It kills me every way no matter which way life turns. Why? I'm on page 100 but I've been living like that all the way. And it kills me to know that I've been an abject failure at life just like Holden Caulfield whom I absolutely despise and hate. It's true when they say this is a puberty bible. I'm feeling all this angst and i feel like it's been all for nothing because these problems seem so trivial next to world hunger. I hate myself. Here we are now, entertain us. American kids have it the worst. And i identify because i can't conform. And i hate myself for that. This has been a mess of words, and this kills me too. But i know these words know exactly what i mean even if no one else does and it seems kind of a reprieve, a comfort in fact. And then it seems like my life sin't so messed up after all, of it is, but that I'd have a chance of fixing it. I hate this whole godamned bloody world of phonies and boys who, even if i let them touch me, who never mean it so i never bother and if i let them and they wouldn't it kills me for being so correct and I know nobody would understand anything but i go on speaking anyway and finally losing myself, hating myself and everyone else and it just kills me to think that people can live with themselves when i can't live with me. Get what I'm saying? and this phrase kills me because it sounds as succulently (i don't know why i used that word) shitty as Cut me some slack. And it hurts that people can say this. It hurts that people can admit to sleeping at 2am, like, what the hell are you doing with your life man, nothing, but still sleeping at 2am. what the fuck. me i just lie in bed, panic racing through me, staring at this flat life over and over again and wanting to cry because i don't know what to do to myself. I think maybe i need somebody, but then again no. And Holden says girls kill him with every small little pretty thing they do and i thought i was the only one who felt like that, like that time i felt so indignant that we should let boys be our husbands because i am aware that we're really pretty things in this world, dainty, nice, childlike even if we're whores. Like, its an exploitation on us if we stupidly allow it. But boys they kill me too when they're being too nice, when they talk to me and i barely know them. In fact everybody kills me when they're being too nice. It's like, I know they'll sympathise when i leave, when i fall, when i fail, but i can't seem to feel... like i appreciate that. I just think i am so messed up and there's no way of reversing it. I died the day i discovered the entire world was phony. There's no way of reversing it, except with tears and words. And maybe solitude. If anybody out there can hear me scream , i'd appreciate it only too much.

Sometimes you don't set out to think but the thoughts that occur to you disturb you and you just have to set them down in words. I like proof of insanity. I'm a mental patient daring you to tell me I don't have a problem. My dad wants me to visit Woodbridge sometimes when I'm free. He says he worries for me, and if i keep visiting that place regularly, maybe when i do finally end up in court for murder or something i won't be hanged, by reason of insanity. Gotta love my parents' confidence in me. And i don't mean this sarcastically. I'm saying, murder is a real possibility for me, as is rape, emotional blackmail and stuffs.

Ok, anyway I've been thinking( unwillingly, because this whole thing is so... bulky?) of this theory. That girls are all waiting for boys to grow up. Don't you think? I think i'll possibly be overwhelmed by feminists all stuffing their hairy armpits into my face, trying to suffocate me, but i think it's true.

Everyone is chasing after love, consciously or not. It's like some coveted prize and much as I'd like to renounce it like Cady renounced the title of prom queen, breaking that worthless plastic crown like everyone's lives didn't depend on it, I can't. the core of me still longs for it like any other worthlessly pathetic human being. I speak of higher love like i can, but i'm a shitty liar.

I'm not saying I'm in love with anyone, indeed i am not. But even i'm finding myself ridiculous, for constantly repeating that i don't need love to myself every passive second of my mind's breath. Obviously i need it. Who the fuck doesn't. But i wish i didn't. There are no pros to needing love but the cons include you being needy, clingy, stupid, ignorantly happy (which obviously isn't good. it's like smiling while people are being killed in the background).

They say love makes you stronger, but it doesn't apply to me at all. Love makes me weaker, love makes me stupid. I used to deny vehemently but as the years pass, i know myself better now. And i admit i become a daft alien everytime it hits me. So I'm trying not to let it hit me again. But heck, at the same time i want it to. That's when i came up with the theory, in the shower, when i was about to breakdown in tears (or maybe i already did, not sure) from all the conflicting voices in my head. Honestly, there were voices. There were voices saying "don't" and "why" and a million other things all at once, some very long sentences, like, "Ha! You think you're so different but you're still pathetically human down to your very core". I hadn't sought to cry, i just needed to break free from all these voices. I'm telling you, there WERE voices. How the hell i act so normal( by my definition) in school, i have no idea, because the voices were all speaking out even when i was speaking aloud.

Everyone's chasing love like addicts after their fix. It's pathetic to watch. It's even more pathetic to want to be part of it. Compulsory civil behavior compels me to restrain from acting like a disgusting barbarian, shamelessly grabbing at it. t's not like there's anything worth grabbing or anything.

I don't know if being a girl sucks or just the mere fact of being human was the very root of the problem to begin with but why the hell are we always waiting around for love, waiting for it like fucking lottery, waiting for the right orientation, right force, right everything. Anyway, everywhere i look, i see girls waiting for boys to grow up into men, see the light and propose to them. It's pathetic, really. Hanging around, always hanging around like a forlorn puppy, pretending like you have something going on for you but actually not, actually wishing you were a thousand watt bulb so you can glare at him, blind him. I must break away from wanting this. Because i am not a loser. I am capable of higher love.

Yesterday i read this quote by Dee Hsu from the Life section of Straits Times: "Men, oh men. Women can see through all of you and either they don't give two hoots about you or just decide to play along with you".
Everywhere i look, i see evidence of women deciding to "play along". It's disgusting. The army officer's wife tending to their three kids PLAYED ALONG, my maid's friend (also an indonesian maid) sending money home to her unfaithful bum of a husband PLAYED ALONG. What the fuck is wrong with all these people, why must all PLAY ALONG with men, wtf! I will not. I will be the one who will not give two hoots about them. But i hate myself because i still can't firmly plant my feet on this side of the line because i am still human. What is wrong with all of us, why must we all have this inherent need to love and be loved? I hate it i hate it i hate it. Why can't we all just love other people and other things like how we love our family? Like how i love my dog. Why must we all seek too be lovers with someone else? What for! I recognise there is a bliss in being lovers, that top of the world feeling, like a diamond in your pocket. But... why should it make us feel so special. Love is love, how do you measure it? How can you allocate thr importance of different kinds of love? I'm so frustrated by this whole thing. And for nothing. It just OCCURRED to me, all these voices in my head, this whole theory, this whole distaste for human fallibility in the face of love. MY fallibility in particular. Sucks.

Voices in my head, shut up. I am capable of higher love.

why didn't anyone inform me of the existence of blink182? damn! ok i think it's better no one told me, or it'll become too generic and i'll be repelled by it. like how i rejected harry potter and LOTR. can fully empathise with
murakami's devastation at fame.














if i ever go punk rock on you, please, please forgive me. i've never known this music was called punk rock. like, i've always loved Bowling For Soup but i didn't know they were punk rock. ok, sorry. i know i look neither like a punk nor a rock person, i just really like how they mess with people in the vids. omdog this is such a boring post

My mind is blowing up like the people training at the JI camps right now. Yiting just told me that she's going to get our mortal enemy Zhu De Wei( Pig ah Du) aka teo ze wei as her math teacher from hell next year. oh my fucking dog. this is so bad. i feel so bad right now. like a motherfucking motorcyclist ready to jump off the bike in the middle of going 400kmph in the middle of the highway. walao.... :( i was wrong to feel optimistic about this year. Ok, unhappy things aside, i came up with 1281 words for my KI IS in one day. uhuh. And i also came up with a theory but it's not related to my IS. That is if countries can be personified, then... ok i shall put it in a list

America-brash young man
Singapore- boring girl no one invites to parties
Malaysia- sickeningly sleek salesman
North Africa- prisoners of all sorts
South Africa-drug addict in rehab
South Korea-boring university girl
North Korea-farmer
Chile-the bangla in every country
China-career woman in her 50's
India-bellydancer
Indonesia-vagabond rocker
Britain-old virgin


i can't think of any more countries alrd. too distraught over the possibility that i may get that zhu de wei. he is fucking fucking horrible. :( depressionella. anyway that's how i stereotype countries. 

I don't know why but i feel sort of excited about the new year, and next year. i shouldn't be because i'm going to get hell next year. Haven't written a single word for my IS when it's supposed to be done by now. And i haven't finished my homework. Scrap that, i haven't even done half of it.  But for some reason i feel so damned optimistic about next year. This is wrong right?

I don't care.

For the first time in my life i made new year resolutions that i will probably never fulfill. Stuff like paying attention during lectures, but hell. The greater ambitions are stuff like dying my hair teal green and cottoncandy pink like a unicorn and becoming 3 shades paler. If women are from Venus and men are from Mars then i protest. Why the hell must we all come to earth and mingle wtf. I wanna stay in Venus where the air is purple and the entire economy revolves around salons or every kind.  In Mars i bet the economy revolves around handshakes. The people with the firmest handshakes will wield the most power. They'll be like demi-gods because they can give themselves the best orgasms. In short, people from Mars are losers. unless of course, you're Leonardo di Caprio or Johnny Depp or Robert Downy Jr and stuff. People from Venus will be bimbos, but you have no idea how good hair/nail/skin treatment feels. Bimbo is just a term that girls who try but cannot be pretty and men who want but cannot get the pretty girls, come up with.

I don't know why i wrote that entire paragraph. It's not how i feel and it's not even funny. It's like i feel strongly about it when I'm actually not. But i really wanna dye my hair teal and pink and be three shades whiter. Oh and i want to kiss before i turn 18 but it's like, impossible. There isn't a single human being within 9000 km radius.

And next year i want to come to like people. Not feel repulsed by the people in my class. Forgive them for being lame. Embrace motherfucking diversity. Not grudgingly.

Also for the people who hate me, i want to, for once in my life, give them a tight slap for real.before i turn 18 and get arrested for physical assault. Not just verbally or visually but actually moving my hand, slapping them and smiling right back. And step away before they an slap me back. As I'm saying this i have no one in mind, but they'll appear soon enough.

Also i want to get the belly button piercing i've always wanted. I kept going on and on about it but chicken that i am, I've never acted on it. And then after that I'm going to get a tattoo. Either with the Dongs or Kangli, or all of them. Poor things to have to be included in my Greater Plan. I think I'll just get something small on my hip bone or something, somewhere not really visible. Just knowing they are near me, in my private parts, is enough for me. I don't need to declare it to the world. And like, if ever they go get plastic surgery and they come to me and announce they are (eg:yifeng, cos he's the one most in need of it) i will make them strip so i can see the tattoo and confirm their identity. I got inspired from the show 200 pounds beauty where the fatass went to get a full body plastic surgery op and her friend made her strip to compare tattoos.

Also i wanna remind myself everyday that the mind is stronger than the heart. The reason why I'm so... volatile is because i always let my heart dictate. I should have taken the most straight foward, practical route, but no, i go in a circle of intensity, self pity and self destruction. And all for nothing. Now I'm going to be practical. My entire life. I'm going to accept that I am going to age irregardless of what i do, so why not make life easier for myself. I know i never want all that "maturity that comes with age" crap but look, i'm accepting it. embracing it even. because  i am a revolutionary like Our Dear Leader. When i die imma make sure people wail for me too and burn themselves at the stake to join me. Just kidding. If i don't like you secretly and you burn yourself at the stake to join me, i will motherfucking kick the balls out of you in ghost world.

Sigh... I'm going to be 18.:( That's like half of my life gone.


Why is it so easy to fall in love but so difficult to fall out of it? I'm thinking of Zac Efron and that woman.... that old one (what's her name?) oh, Michelle Pfeiffer in the movie New Year's Eve. I mean, hell, it's magical, the entire day they spent together, but can it really work?? I really don't think so. Everything's going to fall apart someday like an emotional apocalypse and then what? Putting new year's resolution to work :check. I'm going to be the motherfucking epitome of introspective and practical and thinking before i act i tell you.

Dear Amoeba,

Confession: I've written 5 posts or so but i didn't publish them because they sound so childish. And... the words weren't what i meant so. Anyway, i think i'm going to write something better today. I've never had words mess up my thoughts 5 times in a row before. Let's hope it's not that sixth time now.

Maybe 10 years later i will get the turbulence of being a teenager. I'm trying to understand it now but it seems... overdramatized the way i see it. I picture all of us standing on tectonic plates, the ground underneath our feet giving way, lava threatening to drown us in a fiery mess. And... whenever the ground below you shifts, you try looking for another to jump onto. And you think the one you saw is too far, that you'll never make it, but when you jump you always do. If you don't jump you will die because all of our worlds are volatile. It's not to say that nobody loves you or anything, but when you're what, 15? 17? you can't see that. In our worlds, we're alone. It's personal hell and we're the gatekeepers.

Everyday I'm fighting for my life. Maybe in 30 years i will slap my ungrateful child for ever saying she wants to live( i remember once when i quarreled with my mum and she exasperatedly ask me, "what you want now?" and i looked at her with intense hatred and hopelessness because i'm a good actress like that and said,"i want to live" and she looked at me like i was possessed. score one for me). But right now, i'm 17 and my world is full of demons. I can name a few offhand and all the adults here will scoff at the dramatization of all of it as a threat to my life. Age for one, threatens me. I'm not afraid of dying, I'm afraid of growing, learning things which would have been better left alone. And then there's monotony. It's scary. Then there's the threat of never fitting in, like, why the hell can people smile in conceited self-satisfaction, how can they smile when something isn't even funny? Is there a problem with me? Why can't i do whatever i want? If i have a religion then why is there less free will than if i didn't have one?

How long does it take to battle each of these demons?

At least i know I've subdued one. And that's love. It might sound... boastful to say that i think i have it under control but it's true. I try not to let it affect me for too long. I feel it intensely when it's there, i feel it's loss intensely when it's gone but i prefer it like that. Sometimes i want to believe there's a god, sometimes i feel like i want to kill myself, but i don't let it drag on. Maybe a day? Two? But there's so much more to life than love. You think you can die for someone and yes you can, but what for? There's so much of the world you don't know. Death arises from confusion, not sadness, i tell you. When I'm confused i feel suicidal but once i have my thoughts sorted out, i can feel sadness a thousand times over but i'm not suicidal anymore. And then the next step is to go like, so sad for what? and you're not anymore. There is so much more of the world we don't know. That's why we're all stuck in our own little hells, jumping from one tectonic plate to the next, never climbing towards a stable ground.

 I don't believe in time, i believe in experience. We've got to try stuff, try getting burnt by that lava, and then we'll get out of there sooner.

 Getting hurt always makes us stronger if you don't die from it. Always.

3am i'm awake
middle of the night
for goodness sake

pause for a while
threatened by consciousness
then i remember
10000 miles.

shit.
i want to sleep
instead i weep

so i can scare everyone
into thinking there's a ghost
and this is just too much fun

i'm in the room alone
trying to hide
from myself from the deafening silence
then i turn on the light

where am i.
oh, singapore
you better fucking lie.

what am i.
not there
how am i
in need of care
why am i
i don't know
who am i
unable to hold.

how is it
possible
that you are
in the world

i told you
didn't i
second day
don't want to die

what i must do
is not retell your jokes
wish you the best
and do some coke

karma's a bitch
shut up
i want to switch
my brain

i wish we were 40
when we met
so none of this
would ever get
out of control
enough
that money
cannot solve

time and distance
time and distance
killing us all
if you would just listen

it's not real
no it's not
no big deal
if i forgot

i deserve it
i asked for it
heartbreak hotel in a bit

yes it's silent
yes it's cold
didn't wait for christmas
to unfold

i can't decide
who has been the cruel one
we both died
when i said now
but you were the one
who taught me how

first you steel
that fragile heart
leave it to god
and then we part

forever is longer
than 50 years
stronger
than all my tears

give me a limit
there already is
you're already past it
you're already his

and then you're not
see, you told him
there was no god

see it was good
all along
to be a pessimistic atheist
at least you're strong

still an atheist
but on the verge of death
no salvation
no consolation wreath

i want to forget
i want to regret
i want him to have cheated on me
then smilingly say we're not meant to be
but not like that
i don't want to be free
amicably

the hardest part is when
he wishes you the best
tells you you are beautiful
when you know you'll be a mess

says everything will be fine
but who was the one who wrecked it
when you're no longer mine

says to lead our own lives
what life
how, at a pain degree greater than childbirth
can i survive

so i console myself
i'm collecting emotion
leave it to the mind
love is just a notion

The worst thing about me, for me, is that i collect emotions. And it hurts so much. So damned much. If you're searching for porn and Belvia, I'm sorry. Buddha is right. Life is suffering. It's the best philosophy I've ever heard. Zen is to stop thinking. There is no god, still. Buddha is just a philosopher, not a god. Don't blame the heart for everything when it's in the brain. Love is strange. It's mindfuck. It's not emotion. If emotions are intangible then love is matter. It's a huge thing, too huge to be an emotion. Fucking mindfuck. I know it'll be good for e if i talked about it, but no. Ouch. Your name means healer. Of what? Maybe a month from now i'll figure it out. I'll figure it out in the cone of silence you leave me in.

This sucks. There's something i want to talk about but then the Creators will know. This sucks.

Nevermind. I shall post about yesterday.
A fucking cicada fucking went into the lamp and kept banging against the lamp the entire night. Do insects have brains? Or do they just operate on instinct? Because if it's just instinct then God is motherfucking fucked up. Entered the fucking lamp. ENTER. as in trapped IN the lamp itself. What the fuck. All the fucking members in my house refused to help me catch it so i slept with this dumbass in my room, banging against the lamp loudly the whole night. it's not a fluttering. it's banging with it's dogdamned exoskeleton. I thought it would bang itself to death in the middle of the night and i felt a bit guilty but what can i do right. i cannot remove the lamp and anyway i wanted it to die in the first place.
This morning i woke up to its banging some more but the banging was getting fainter like all its energy was spent. I thought it would die in the lamp and then every night i would have to face the shadow of a dead cicada before i sleep. But no, that thing managed to come out of the lamp and it flew to my curtain and i don't know why i felt relieved that it wasn't dead. There's something... philosophical about cicadas for me, i don't know why. Maybe it was the way its wings beat... it wasn't a flutter but rather a hovering. It should front some Canon advert. Japanese farmers in the past made raincoats that mimic the cicada structure out of straw.

I started writing this yesterday night but i couldn't continue. So then i tried again this morning and i started to cry. Now i'm transferring it here and i hope everyone who reads this cries too, little motherfuckers.

Today when i saw Jacky lying down in his box downstairs, he was so moody. He ignored me when i called him and he growled at me when i tried to pet him. I'm guessing it's because we had neglected him the entire month because everyone was so busy with moving house and now after we've moved he can't go upstairs because he can't climb the stairs and we can't possibly be attending to him every moment of the day. You see, he has this lame leg and when he tries to climb stairs, it hurts, i think, although he doesn't whine or anything. They say Jack Russels are renowned for their pain tolerance, but i don't want things to get to the point where the pain gets so unbearable that he finally breaks down. I don't know what to do. I want to save up for surgery but my grandma's friend's dog had surgery and died. I put him on a diet but he started vomitting gastric juice. There is no god.

When he looked at me with something like an accusation in his eyes, I saw the age in Jacky for the first time. He has always been a puppy in my eyes, bigger, fatter, clumsier, but I've never seen any age in him. Until yesterday, Jacky has always been the emblem of the words forever young, with all the beauty and foolishness that youth carries.

When I saw that relentless stubborness, that biting insecurity, I thought that nothing should have to live that old. It's not that Jacky is physically old, he's only 8. But he's breaking down, mind and body, and it hurts me so much to witness it. It's not just pity I feel. I feel helpless, I feel angry, I feel...like i want to protect him from everything but how? I can't. So I hug him and kill myself doing that. The tears start to fall and everyone's cleaning up in the kitchen so i wiped the tears away with some kind of defiance. Everytime i cry a part of me wants someone to see it and feel the same but the rational part always decides against it. If they saw me cry, my emotions would be reduced to 2 sentences of feeble explanations:" Jacky so poor thing. I don't want Jacky to die". But it's not just that, it's so much more.

But then i thought that even as I didn't want Jacky to age, I didn't want him to die either. It's a contradiction, I know. Then i thought, where did this part of me come from? I've always been so irritatingly practical, doing things that have to be done and stuff. The extremity of this quirk extends as far as my death; if i had to die, i would. But Jacky, why couldn't I let him go for his own good? Then i figured. It's because I love him for everything that he is. I love every part of him, his stinky butt, his rancid breath, his shedding fur, his love for small spaces that he can't fit into but always squeezes in anyway. Now i find that i love even his age, the biting insecurity and all. This is Jacky we're talking about, he's not just anyone. He's not something i can give up on, not in a second, a month or a million years.

So I told him. I told him I would love him no matter what, and that I'll love him forever and ever. I put my mouth against his ear and didn't say anything but my heart emanated these words with such strength and clarity I thought that I might burst. When these words came out it suddenly occurred to me that it's the surest thing in my life, that if there was anything i could believe in, it was that i really would love Jacky forever. Even after he dies. Even after I die. The whole world can end and I would still love him. I mean it.

I don't know if Jacky heard me but he turned around and looked at me with something like a "Really?" expression. So then I said "Really." and he turned back and i started crying again because I saw the baby in him again, in his "Really?" look. That... unquestionable trust and desire to please and make people happy suddenly replaced all that scheming insecurity and calculative stares. All the eight years melted in that second and if there was heaven, that was heaven. I'll never be a mom, and this is the closest to maternal pride I've ever been and will ever be.

When he heard me crying he turned around and licked my tears away and i felt like the world could be perfect if we only gave it a chance. I guess... when Jacky felt insecure, I did too. When he doubted my love for him, I guess I doubted his too. But he licked those tears away, like he always does. There's nothing to doubt, we've both been foolish but we've both been so possesive over each other's love that we started getting angry. I don't know if it's good or bad to be possesive, but I want it anyway, that means that we care enough to get angry at all.

Age is a scary, scary thing. It's... an imperceptible destruction. It's gentler than air, quieter than the night. It's so... subtle that one day when you fina'lly notice it, you've already lost a part of yourself, or that someone you love has already lost a part of themselves. It's no use fighting it, but i still wish there was some immunisation against age. I think... I think now the thing i fear most is age. It's not that I'm afraid I'd ever go to an old age home or waste away with cancer and stuff, it's... it's that deviation away from the prime in your life. I don't know if i can put it into words properly, but the higher you climb the further you fall and when... maybe at 20, you feel the happiest, you fall in love, you get married, 21 you have kids, when you're 50 your kids graduate from university, then what? What else is there to look foward to in life? I don't know. Grandchildren? But it's not the same. i don't want to get to that point. I don't want to feel that helplessness of having nothing to live for, of knowing a certain future that can never be as fantastic as what you've known before. That's why first loves are the cliched bests, because we've never known anything like it. And then it all goes downwards from there. And then kids become adults and they want grown-up "stability". When everyone knows that the rollercoaster ride you had at what, 12? 13? was the best thing that has ever happened to you.

When he was 1, he chewed up shoes. 2, he fucked a bear. 3, he was sterilized. 4, he made friends downstairs the block. 5, he became the best dog in the world and burned his nose on the lit candle of his birthday cake. 6 we sneaked him to the Botanic Gardens. 7 he changed. At 8 i wished that he could remain like this forever, forever trusting and wide-eyed at the world, unmarred by jadedness, untouched by age.

I fear the thing i can't protect him from. I fear age, and it's coming to get him, i know.

I've been at this new house for a wretched 5 days(i think) now. I am so pathetic. I'm lying on the floor outside the toilet typing this at 3.30am.

I haven't had the time to write about it but now i'm going to kill myself doing that.

Ok, so everyday i'm fucking busy unpacking stuff and shit. and this motherfucker "grandma"(aka not my grandma. must be some fucking hobo come to live with us) keeps irritating the shit out of everyone. walk in walk out of the house doing nothing. nevermind, call her to help me punch holes in the worksheets also don't want. walao. i cannot just type this. next time if you see me ask me to demo for you. if you want to slap me, understand that my desire to slap her face until it caves in is 10000 times stronger. She was downstairs, doing nothing so i said she should come upstairs to help me. i kept calling her but she just pretended she could not hear. in the end i got damn angry and screamed and then she took her time to walk up and when she came up she looked like she was going to collapse from exhaustion. Don't be fooled, she's a master of pretense. Can cry with the snap of a finger one.Then she panted and said, "What you want? I was taking care of Jacky so he doesn't run out"  And then she tried punching holes for a while and gave me that "fuck you" face and say the hole puncher totally useless. then she slammed it down. and i asked her to fuck off. Later at night i asked my maid what she was doing before coming up my maid said she wasn't doing anything at all. She was walking in and out and shouting,"cannot hear!" and my maid said,"cannot hear go upstairs la!" she still pretended she couldn't hear me. I told that old bitch she should go stay downstairs i dno why she keep insisting she wants to stay on the third floor. I mean, doesn't she hate me? She does lorh i tell you, she spat in our tea. All of us. BITCH!! i hate her i hate her i hate her. I cannot take it. Maybe i'll surrender first and go live at the first floor so as not to see her fucking face. Ugly inside and out. So angry. How can a grandma be so bad? And she not only doesn't wna help us, she told my maid she cannot help cos if i vacuum then she mop my maid got nothing to do. what. everyone got damn a lot of things to do except her.And she will take her phone  go to the third floor and call her contacts( most often her sis my grandaunt) to complain about us. i don't care if she's just complaining about me, like, she can say i'm a beast(yao1 siu3) or what, demon child,i don't care because if i am all the better, fuck off go live at the first floor la! But how can she complain about my dad? She's damn bad to him, like she say he so tired and everything is he deserve it buut he know she gastric still try to rush everywhere to buy the medicine for her. I just asked her to shut up and go to sleep. Bitch. Old ugly bitch. I want her to live at the first floor cos jacky has some leg problem then she's the one in charge of sleeping in the same room as him because she was the one who made my dad buy him so if she sleep at the first floor jacky won't have to climb up and down the stairs. Now that there's this problem she wants me to be in charge of jacky. Last time she said i was useless, cannot wake up when he wants to pee. suddenly all that can change just cos she has this problem. Bloody bitch. She's sleeping right now. I have the intense urge to kill her in her sleep. INTENSE. i could blame the murder on jacky, since he won't be charged anyway.

Leave your comments about the UOB( ugly old bitch) in the cbox. and tell me about your nice grandmas so i can be angrier and indignant

Correction: i don't hate asian people. i hate singaporean people because they're so boring. i can't say anymore.

It's not that i hate asian people. it's just that singaporeans are so boring.

What I've Been Up To This Days:

Nothing! Really! I swear!(on a god that i don't even believe in.)

is it vain if i hope someone can just read my blog and fall in love with me? yea, it's vain, whatever. but it's the perfectest way ever. like, people always ask me( or maybe it's those voices in my head) where i want to meet my boyfriend.

two choices: the blog or a theme park. 

the blog because then he'd like me for who i really am. i know, everyday i'm so... weird, so... "something special, something new" but... somehow... it's not like that. I refuse to be stereotyped. mostly because i don't accurately fit into any stereotype. the PARIAH stereotype? nope, not freakish enough. plus i have friends, so, it doesn't count. the PLASTICS? nope, haven't had sex yet. plus, not bitchy enough. the POET club? nope, no musical talent, not deathly emotional, and also don't have the power of sex to make a full blown epic romance. also, do not kknow where to purchase poisons.

but i guess if someone really fell in love with me from reading my blog, then he'd put me into a compartment in his heart, stereotyping me in a way, but a good way.

ok, what the fuck am i saying? i don't know.

the theme park because that's where i'd like to have my first date, so why not just... plunge into it? like, the very second we meet, then and there, first date. yay!!! given i'll have a short lifespan, better make good use of time. i want to go back to universal studios in usa. perefct weather and when the sky became dark the whole place was like... a wonderland. seriously. it was so damned beautiful i wanted to run away from my parents and just get lost there. I know this sounds stupid but then and there i wished i had a boyfriend. i wished we hid ourselves in the themepark that night where no one could find us and just lose our virginities there. i fantasized about grabbing an angmoh boy off the street but of course i didn't do that. sigh. should have. i want to live in usa forever and ever and ever. i don't even like britain, where everyone's so... anal and stuckup. i feel like the people in usa understand me, like they like my wild ways, like i like theirs.

 yesterday alone in the train i thought i should probably tell my boyfriend one day that i'm racist. but the envisioned conversation didn't take place very well. it went like:

me:"i have a confession to make. ... i'm racist."
boyfriend:"what? what do you mean you're racist? like chu hate black men and stuff?! if that's it gurl, we're over"
me:"no no! i mean, i hate asian guys"
boyfriend:" why didn't you say so at first girl? got me in a panic for noth'.  come here and let me show you what my big black dick can do"

okay! wrong track, so i tried again.

second self-conversation:

me: i have a confession to make. ... i'm racist"
boyfriend:" what do you mean you're racist?"
me:" i hate asian dudes. i simply cannot accept an asian dude for a boyfriend."
boyfriend:" oh."
me:" i think that's why i never had a boyfriend for so long, like, since i was 12"
boyfriend: " do you hate them like, truly totally hate them? cos i have asian friends and i don't want you to freak out with racist slogans in their presence"
me:"of course i won't! it's not like, i hate them to death. i just... i don't like to be asian mysself"
boyfriend:"why?"
me:"i don't know. the mind and the body doesn't resonate i guess. that's why it had to be you. you're beautiful, your blue eyes, your effortlessly tousled hair. everything. even your freckles and pasty skin."
boyfriend:" so you like me for my looks? how much more shallow can you get? we're over!"
me:"no! it's not that! i feel like you'd understand me. like, you wouldn't tie me down with baby-bearing duties and that shit. you wouldn't mock me if i told you one day that i intend to be a writer and survive from hand to mouth. "

but he'd have already gone out the door. leaving me alone with the damned mortgage. :'(

i don't understand how people get together in singapore. i can't find any romance in this city at all,not in this hotter-than-hell weather, or these bloody practical shopping malls or these smaller than a virgin's cunt parks. everything here is so... rid of adventure, so... safe. till i don't even feel like i have the need to cling on to anyone for anything.

one day i'll just die in my own misery because i don't have any flirting experience/ skill at all. and one day when the perfect person comes along, i'll act like the total opposite of myself. i'll be totally silent and demure and he won't like it because that's not how i am really. he'd like me for me, but i just can't show it. and then like, my auditioning chance is over and i'll be alone forever.


this rainy weather is getting me down. i'm going to bathe.

Fucking good.

The story was DAMN, DAMN good. i thought it was an incestuous affair between a brother and  a sister, or that the brother was super fucked up and wanted to make his sister go mad too but no. walao. it's just damn good. go read the book. The Einstein Girl by Philip Sington.

He liked me. He said that himself. He followed me around everyday even though i wasn't exactly...you know...not hated at all by almost everyone?

His name was Kishaf . I don't know how to spell it but i'll never forget that name. I think he was my first real friend in childcare (aka Military Boot Camp). Everyone else at Military Boot Camp was your friend only on your birthday, when there was cake for everyone, no matter how much you hated them. I said before that i was concerned with social ranking in primary school; it must have been the remnants of the traumatic episode from Military Boot Camp.

Okay, anyway his name was Kishaf.

The things i can remember about him:

1. he folded his "blanket"( which was really the towel we used for bathing.yea, sometimes it was wet. stupid childcare. even the term childcare is irnoic because there was certainly monsters there and not much care) before nap time. I was the only other person i knew who did that. ZMostly because i couldn't sleep. i remember i folded my towel into an envelope shape once and thought i was such a genius. I made him wake up to see it. 
2. he, and another guy i whose name i thin was Jody,and i, we formed the pariah group. And i remember very clearly the three of us standing in front of this giant fan and opening our mouths extremely wide and making inaudible sounds warped by the movement of the fan. We're not pariahs for nothing. The teacher came and threatened us by saying our tongues would be sliced off. Oh, how perfect a way to encourage adventurous learning!
3. He lived in the same block as I did. And when i was in primary 3, i suddenly felt the strong urge to find him. I raced up and down the entire block ringing doorbells. And my last memory about him was that the new tenant told me he'd moved away long ago.

At 4? 5? years old, i was a really depraved kid, not that i'd realised at that time. Both my parents were working and they left me at my grandma's house. I attended Military Boot Camp because truancy was unheard of last time. My grandma cooked the most horrible food, as i remember. It wasn't that it tasted horrible. It was more like the whole damned house was fucking unhygienic. There was alsways the smell of old people, and stuff breaking. I don't know. I felt like the place was infested with a lot of stuff. It was the NJ of my childhood.

Other people had moms that made them cookies almost every sunday. There wasn't one weekend where not at least one mum was baking up stuff i'll never learn how to. I made friends with my grandma's friends, people with one foot in their coffins already and we got along just fine. But my... neglect must have been quite obvious to the mums-who-baked-cookies families. So i got invited to the cookie-making sessions, lucky me. Once with Kishaf and another time with my next door neighbour whose son was drop-dead gorgeous. They're malay-chinese-muslims. Kishaf's indian.

That'a all that i can remember about him, which is quite pathetic. I've always thought this name, Kishaf sounded really cute. Like a child's lisp. And i still remember his chubby face and those huge eyes. I've always been the leader of the pariah team for reasons unknown because i couldn't even speak english. I think maybe it's those huge eyes that makes it impossible for him to intimidate anyone. Jody was just someone who didn't like leading. We came up with a few loserly fun stuff to do though. Oh oh, i remember i was the one who uncovered some tracing book thing.It was a pokemon tracing book and i remember that i chose to colour/trace bloom, the stink-bomb pokemon. And kishaf kept irritating me to finish colouring faster. i just ignored him.

I think if i hadn't known Kishaf, i wouldn't be forming coherent sentences right now. All that bullying in Military Boot Camp would have made me snapped. I'd become one of those Dracula children, biting everything and everyone until i draw blood. We might not have been friends of virtue, because i obviously treated him as a friend of pleasure, but i'll be eternally grateful to him.In some way, i think he saved me. Children are impressionable. Without him i think i would have been jaded and a schizophrenic at 5.  I hope i see him on the streets someday and immediately recognise him. I'm not beyond dating him either, fat, thin, or sex-god just-right.

It's the dead of the night. I don't have to go to school till 1 tomorrow. I've had a few new things happening in my life, if you make concessions for the definition of new.

1. New house.

This whole new house business has me very... agitated. I hate it. There're so many... (i shall just call it) connotations that i had. Too many despisable second-meanings. And the damn fucking irony of upgrading but actually really downgrading.
I was thinking in the shower/ mental therapy today why the fuck are all those pretentious terrace houses located in obviously undesirable neighbourhoods. Look, Christine's house in Yio Chu Kang is away from a lot of civilisation and the walkways have plants that KILL. Bukit Timah has a ton of such pretntious houses too. And they are not located near malls or anything CONVENIENT at all. No, they're located 10000 miles away from a shop, 9000 miles away from an mrt station and 8000 miles away from a bus stop. What is the fucking point of living in these damned houses if you take so long to come home you just flop into bed and die until the next morning and you won't even feel like showering or masturbating, heck no, you just want to die another day. AGITATED.
Obviously all those "rich" people think that what, "tranquility" and "being away from the "hustle and bustle" of the crowds" (hustle and bustle got extra open-inverted commas because it's just so fucking fucking pretentious until i wna die)  is the most important thing in the world are FUCKING STUPID. My new hoouse may have brought me away from "hustle and bustle" but it broought me closer to sheng siong, prime supermarket, gek poh, "hustle and bustle" of chinamenfuckingchinawomen(yea, their bodies are conjoined fucking so it's one word)  and it has made us poorer. I have to take another bus. I got poorer inconveniencing myself. The fatherfucker who caused this whole shit is my mom. They tell me that it's because the prices of HDB flats are dropping like crazy but frankly, i really don't believe it. I think it's because she's always wanted to live in a terrace/ bungalow, the PRESTIGE OH THE MOTHERFUCKING PRESTIGE!
Fuck, i really really hate it. I hate this whole... class divide, income-gap shit. I don't want to be a terrace-dwelling pompous idiot. I just want to live here, where we don't need to pretend like we're some upper class freaks, where we don't have to socialise with neighbours who are professors (no kidding. they actually want to live in jurong wtf) and where my maid doesn't have to hang laundry on cheapass-looking plastic/metal standing laundry poles. It's so fucking distassteful. When i see people living in less than $3 million bungalows, i think their place always looks like a slum. Mine is just a mere $1.2 million. It will most probably look like a SHANTY.
Who's up for slumdog housewarming? House burning more like it.
I want to clarify that i am no patriot. I'm not the "HDB rockszzz!!!" kinda person. I just... I hate the distinction! If everyone live in grounded houses like they do in the US I think I'd have no problem with that. But even then, you know me, I'd rather live downtown than uptown. I hate the white-bread world, hate being an uptown girl. And now I'm not even some motherfucking uptown girl. I'm caught in-between, which is like, the most intensely pretentious rung on the society's scale. Like, obviously cannot make it people trying to be rich and luxurious, but not necessarily rich.
You know whenever my mom and i shop for furniture, and she chooses some opulent leather-upholstered chair or something, I'd tell her to forget about it, because were not that kind of people. We're not high society. And that's exactly how i feel about the new house, stop pretending!


      2. A book

It's called The Einstein Girl by Philip Sington was his name i think. It's written in the perspective of a doctor called Kirsch but it's all about this.. einstein girl. The doctor was engaged to a woman (normal high society pretentious boring) but i had a sense he didn't love her. Being engaged was the duty of a man in his 30s in guess, in those days. Anyway, he lived alone (old-fashioned people do not cohabit even after engagement, i think? Quirk. That's why they have old people's smells) and one day he went out to a beer hall to drink because he was bored. And he saw this girl who walked into puddles instead of stepping around them like other normal, pretentious, boring women. He was fascinated. He followed her. He asked her for a dance. Her name was Elisabeth. Fast foward and she was discovered nearly drowned and fully naked in a lake. She has amnesia. She doesn't remember anything. He was a psychiatrist. He became her doctor. Turns out she was Einsteins daughter, albeit a bastard. She was adopted by a Serbian couple i think? I haven't finished the story yet.

There was a historical note at the end saying that Einstein did indeed have a daugher; she was retarded. He also had a schizophrnic son whom he left behind in Germany or something while he escpaed with his wife to America. Because Einstein was a Jew. His son Eduard was subjected to a lot of those... mental-cleansing exercises. Because Eugenics was very popular in those Nazi days. He went through the electric shock stuff and a lot of other crap while Einstein was being accorded the highest accolade a scientist could ever want. What shitty E=mc^2. I say go to hell. He must have been born without a heart. Or maybe that was what he wanted. Einstein once said that emotions wearied the mind, and that to see clearly, one should not feel. I feel ashamed that he was so highly regarded and i think i see it very clearly. What's the point of being a great scientist if you can't be a passable human being? He made the damn atomic bomb and he claimed he was a pacifist. Gosh i am so angry at this fucker i cant really speak.

 Okay, anyway back to the story. I think it's... I think it take a lot of melancholy to write about madenss. Because to examine madness is a depressing thing in itself, done only by people filled with a lot of negative feelings. Indignance that screams to be given way to anger, or sadness that wants to be prolonged. Madness is a sort of freedom in itself but being around madness... it's unspeakable imprisonment. But writers don't write for fame i think. They write for some sort of release, his dad was an industrial chemist, his mum worked in British Intelligence. With parents that outstending, you'd be expected to be somehing more than a journalist. But no, he had to have these... comparatively lofty occupations of writing. I know what('s) up with all these civil servants. They want their children to "make it in life" and when they don't, it's like the sky crashes."make it" in their own terms, that is. Gosh, i hate civil servants.

    3.Spider solitaire
I've played spider solitaire for a long time. My mum (the one who ruined my life with te new house) tells me that only dirty old men play this kind of games and at the end there will be some girl that strips if they win. I have never seen any stripper at the end of any spider solitaire game before, and i have a win percentage of like, 80% or something. Recently i started playing the most difficult level, it's the one with 4 suits. Thoroughly mind-boggling. But i just won my first match!! 200 over moves, that's like 4 times the number of moves i use for the 2 sits one. ok, you don't care.
 
    4. School
I don't want people i like to get retained! That idiot Jiacheng should be the one to be retaained. I don't know why i hate him so much. He hasn't really done anything to me but his very presence on the face of this earth just feels like the sound of styrofoam being scratched, or some metal scratching glass. The sort of things that make you want to break your own spinal cord and DIE.

   5. I feel like I'm ready to talk about more... love affairs. I need these things in my life, these whimsical thouhts. I nver knew I needed them like life-support, until i came to NJ. I guess i won't cope well in the real world. Because my solution to a lot of problems is excapism. It's a fine line between that and madness, and one day i know i'm just going to cross it, if i'm not already dead by then.

I just unearthed some artefacts trying to look for my horoscope books. I was doing my nails and i wanted to draw all the star signs, one on each nail but then i only had 10 so i decided to eliminate virgo. i hate virgo people. and i was still deciding which other one to eliminate but then i found my artefacts. Don't need to do nails already. Crippled by emotion.

I found my biodata( i think even the term is prehistoric) way back from primary 6. And i just asked people to write in it even when i was in sec 1 but then i stopped in sec 2. I don't now why. Anyway... it was... some sort of revelation. I don't know how anyone can sob while reading that so many people called her humourous.

It's something, something about the way we were all so... foolish and childish. I used to hate it when people called me childish. I remember Delvin and Sideeq KEPT calling me childish and "to grow up". Whenever i heard that i felt like my head could explode. I was like, fuck you! we're only 12 what's all this about growing up and all that shit you all think you are very experienced and worldly then go suck your dicks la! But look where i am now and where the are. They're already jaded. Im still learning everything about this world. Learning that nothing is ever, ever impossible. Not love, not hate, not aids, not god, not anything. I mean, i even put some possibility on the most impossible thing-God. What else is impossible? God is the most sadistic thing ever if it ever exists. More Hitler than Hitler. He banished Adam and Eve from Eden for so long, he condemned Lucifer forever, killed too many things, propagated too many wrong ideals. Lucifer only wanted a chance to prove himself why won't God just let him try? If God thought it wasn't good enough he could tell him to improve and it'd be a joint partnership but no, God had to banish him. Deny him any chance. Because God is a bloody authoritarian. God was to be the supreme leader like that bloody kim jong il. God is crap. But still i say that shit may exist. Maybe one day he'll look me in the eyes, smile evilly and say,"You're doomed because i hate you. You'll burn in hell forever with that damned Lucifer. Drink your own pee, eat your own shit, you'll never be sane again." And i'll look back at him and i'll say, " You are the vilest scum ever. You are the crazy one. I hate you too. You are a big fat masturbator.You can mindfuck everyone to have sex with you but you'll never be attractve by yourself. You have to rely on mindfuck, what a loser!"

Ok, anyway i was talking about the biodata. I saw Kangli wrote to me that she was thankful to have me as a friend because i gave her courage when she gave up hope and for being there for her. She described herself as the "next-to-door-girl" wtf. haha! next to door! hahahaha!!!Her craving/ wishes : at #04: "HIM" wtf. who is HIM?!! Shijie?!!! Or what! hahaha!!!! #08:be a vet #09: be a singer #10: Be a doctor #11: Be a lawyer. Seriuosly???!!! you have no affinity with animals, seriously. my dog didn't really like you at first remember? he was like, fuck off, bitch! Your voice SUCKS. Remember when we sang At The Beginning? Your voice was so fucking damned off-key i had to shut up so no one would mistake your voice for mine and ruin my reputation. If you were a doctor, I'll make sure i don't fall sick because you've admitted to digging your nose in your free time. If you're a lawyer i'm never going to be firneds with you anymore. So to achieve #)&:Friends forever with you and all the others, you have to give up #11. And it's damn stupid that you put "Be who i wanna be" at #14. Seriously, you rather be vet/singer/doctor/lawyer than who you wanna be? crazy. You wanna be a prostitute? Just go out there and shake that thang! And wtf you wna see the pope for what shit?! He's a bloody asshole just taking too much salary and giving advice that i can give you. And you also wna convert your parents to christian? Honeychild, you're fucked.  And you hated homework, revising,Mr Isudin(yucks, fuckeric-seriously, you said that),Shilling(who the fuck is that???!!!)

Dear Kangli, i love you like crazy. You know that. You even asked me not to marry some barbarian in a cave, you say my cheebai will crack and i can't believe I'm fucking crying but i am. But I'm not supposed to be! I'm ovulating! That's when strippers earn the most money and women are most happy not in that order! What the hell, Kangli, i love you. You used to be the dreamy one, but now I'm the dreamy one, albeit not in cheesy "castleanya" not like you. You say I'm always there for you but I think you've done so much more for me. If we were objects I'd be a toy and you'll always have fun with me. But you'd be a mirror and whenever I'm with you it'd be like looking at my reflection and finding something new. A zit or something that I'd pop. You make me a better person. Seriously. So you became Christian and I became godless. But at least you can't burn my church down because I don't have one. Friends forever! As long as you're still straight.


I just saw Xinpei's page and she specifically circled the u in crush and said crush not crash. I guess i said that she crashed on people last time and thought it was damn funny. Loser. Ha! She indicated Jingsong as whatevas in her friendship chart! haha!!

KANGLI AND XINPEI LIKED JINSONG BEFORE. BROADCAST BROADCAST. They're Mrs Mrs Oh my god that Britney's shameless.

I noticed there're all these fucking cheesy shortforms in my book. Glad to bi (be) what the fuck. fwens. And everyone's favourite food is fast food. what the fuck. Makes everyone sound like pigs. I want food! FAST! CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP!!! Ew everyone thanked me for letting them write in the book like it's something exclusive. Ew no! I just want them to write only what! why must thank! Somemore is they take the effort to write. Ironic. Guuess i was POPULAR!

Like, alomost everyone hated boiz(yea, Look here, big BOI!) but oh my god! Look who they're all screwing right now? BIG BOIS. hahahaha!!! losers oh my gosh twelve year olds should go to hell and reemerge like, at least 3 years later. what the hell. Tseyin's friendship chart had SLEEK PLATINUM. Walao! how much more loser can we all be? What the hell, she also said i marry a barbarian and cracked my cheebai! what the hell! i don't even remember the joke already!!! She also said the barbarian had a car crash cos he ad a crush on me! what type of joke is this la! what the hell! Zhikang is it? But i still find it funny even though I've become cool.

Dear Tseyin, I can remember how you said the joke. We were in class. Global warming hadn't haunted us yet. The day was beautiful. I wanted to be outside but I'm stuck in class. The bell rang and lesson's over. I walked over to your seat. You were sitting with GABRIEL. whom you have a history with(if you know what i mean) . Pyaie Soan smelled like urine. And then you said it and i couldn't stop laughing for like, weeks or something. And we hated Darren like crazy. I'm sorry i punched you. I'm sorry we're not close anymore. I don't know what happened.

And lixin, she said that she hasn't known me for long but "hope our freidnship would take to a greater height". hahahaha!!! what the fuck! take to a greater height????!!! hahahahahahaha!!! okay la, take to a greater height already, happy? wanna jump down from that great height into the arms of brandon whose bones will be crushed by you? Whose distinct skeleton would be totally severly dislocated in all the joints? hahaha! Somemore what call me study hard. jai you wor! how hard? as hard as a black man's dick???

And Qihui called herself bloody aloka last time what the hell. She said she hate 1/2 tremendously but like me kl and lixin a lot but i guess not now. She hates me. She "say i am a true ppl" but still hate me. Yea, i know all about it. And last time you and lixin liked ziliang. You liked him 70% and lixin liked him 80%. WHAT THE HELL. SOCIAL SUICIDE. you hate wenxuan, said he was a playboy. Weird, then how come you liked this PARTICULAR CURLY-HAIRED MONSTER AT SOME POINT IN YOUR LIFE? omigosh. i am a true people. so i don't mince my words man. can't bear to lose me? who the hell are you kidding? You said i'm irritating and what else?i forgot alreaady but that's not the pint the point is you hate me. i don't hate you but i'm obliged to dislike you. phantasmagoria,insecticide,homophobia, don't try to outgenerate 4 or more syllable words.

Yanting and i were home econs partners! no wonder i liked home econs in the first half of the year but that beautiful memory was totally erased when that horrific stanley pai used the damned chopstick to stuff the damn orange down the damned sink when i was forced to be his partner in the second half of the year. Sorry yanting, to forget you but the second half of the year's memory was so so so disturbing. You got to stay with nice people. I got fucking stanley. You got bay jin wee. Not that i like him or what, but i think the stuff will turn out edible at least, or at the very least, still exist instead of being stuffed down the drain. You said " hope that the food we made after each lesson is better than before". guess that didn't happen to me. i really hated partnering with stanley. I remember we always had such genius ideas on how to make our stuff better. but stanley just make everything damn shit.

Magdelene wrote a bunch of lame stuff and instructed me to laugh like i've never laughed before after she signed off. Am i just supposed to laugh at the absurdity of this? Anyway we're not even talking anymore. She kicked me in the boob before when we were wrestling on the bed during gb. i felt damn weeird wrsetling with her, like some lesbian fight then i wanted out and she just kicked me. I love grudges.

Hahah! Tianli wrote in my book and she listed Leonard Tan Boon Heong (as in his full name) as the person she hated the most. She said he sucks like hell. she say not me

I wish we were stuck in P6. It's when so many things were right and i imagined myself to be marrying that barbarian who had a car crash because he had a crush on me. It was the only time i believed in destiny being written down by some higher being. Sec 1 was about losing it all and starting over like recycled paper. Never quite the same, but never quite complete. I'm still incomplete. But I guess I'm that piece of recycled paper with words on it. Flowy, blindingly gorgeous handwriting. somewhat refined but not quite as innocently white. If anyone can find beauty in this imperfection.

I don't cry for all the what could have beens. I cry because it's never coming back. It was like some roller caoster ride i can never tire of. Is it possible for anyone i've ever known to forget me? I guess so. But so what, it's just me. I'm quite happy with the way i turned out even if some people aren't. I hope the people who matter to me the most can stay with me forever but it's impossible. I should marry all of them, isn't that the way to keep something forever?

Today, i realised that i hate hate hate hate hate giving out phone numbers. Especially to people who I've liked before but didn't want anything to happen and in the end really never happen and who i thought i've gotten completely over but you know with that kind of things there's never such a thing as completely over, who're you kidding.

Anyway, i hate giving out my damned phone number. or having people's phone number. Because i don't trust them not to make me like them again. And i don't trust myself to not stare at the damned number and contemplate texting them or something and when i eventually succumb or some shit it will not be pretty.

It's not that i'm prissy or whatever shit. I just cannot actively pursue people. It's a doomed case. My maid told me before that ladies should be pursued and not be the one pursuing(of course in not so good english. She said it like, don't go after the man! don't so gatal! gatal is malay for cheap)

At first i just scoffed at it. I was like, this is the 21st century man! i shall grab a man off the streets and tell him i love him and he'll love me back, just you see. But of course it doesn't happen like that. For all my literary vulgarity and a lot more of my other nonsense, i cannot, for the life of me, spit out that damned phrase without choking to death. When you fall so hopelessly in love with someone and you're killing yourself everyday all you want is to pass that godamned misery over to him by telling him you love him. But no, i couldn't say i love you to save myself from severe mutilation by Japanese troops. I think i wouldn't rather have a stake shoved up my cheebai than to say i love you but i think i'd sooner be discovered with a stake shoved up my cheebai than say i love you.

I just can't say it. I'd rather confess to a murder.

i am finally fucking posting. I wanted to post for so so long but my compueter went crazy on it. It was like, "fuck you bitch! I'm not gonna work. So whatcha gonna do huh." and i was like, " imma gonna give you a kick" and it was like, "okay, imma gonna die." So it did. whatever. i hate you computer. Didn't like it enough to give it a name but now i will. It's called Fucker. Fucker the computer is now on the lappy defibrillator. As in, I'm plugged in to the cables of the comp and the broadband thingy that isn't against me. Typing on Fucker's old keyboard and using Fucker's speakers. Lappy is sitting in front of Fucker. Fucker's dead body is a looming presence over my and lappy's happy existance but imma not motherfucking caring.



OK. So, i just wanted to say everything in one straight line. peoplehavediscoveredthisblog.icannotwritewithoutknowingthatpeopleinthemotherfuckingunhygienic,spastic,doommingschoolarelookingiamgoingtobejudged.

But i think i shan't care. So what if you search my name and the word porn in google and this blog appears? So what if you type fucker into the search engine a hundred times and the link to this blog appears. i don't care. I've never cared. Nothing's going to change.

Breathe slow, count from one to ten with my eyes closed 'cause ladies take it in and get composed-oh-oh-oh-sure ladies never lose compo-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-sure.

I wrote it on the wall of my one super-irritated friend. I don't know how she felt but it must have been something along the lines of more irritated.

I don't know why but i always want more people from exotic countries to read this place. I'm crazy. I'd rather1 Saudi Arabian read this blog than 99999 more Singaporeans. I don't know why. There must be something inherently wrong with me. Today i just casually told my maid that i hate singapore because we cannot bring my dog to malls or really, anywhere at all except the lameass park and botanic gardens and other nature places. My dog's really pitiful. How would you feel if your whole life you've only been around 5km radius of your house? It's like bloody house arrest.You kow why? Because we have to care about the damned opinions of all those damned muslims who think dogs are the devil's incarnate. They then motherfucking devil's incarnate. I don't hate all of them, i mean, some of them actually kind of like my dog but it's those stupid,stupid rules they have to follow. walao. Because of those rules they'd rather treat my dog like the plague than admit they want to touch it.  I say religion is a meme. It's already fucking old. Just give up on it. Nobody likes you. at least i don't. And that's the most important thing in the world innit?

no,but seriously, islam is the most retarded religion. I'm not saying this without reason. All the rules they impose, they don't explain properly.Like why women have to be super veiled up while men can rape them and then claim the women seduce with their eyes and get away with it. Is it because Allah hates women? Would it be better if they deported all the islamic women to other countries and left all the islamic men in the Middle East so they can only look at porn and masturbate? would that make them happy? And would they be happier if all the pigs and dogs died, leaving only cockroaches and ants and lizards in the world along with deadly stuffs like snakes, vipers, crocs etc? They should put me and an islamic cleric in adjoining cages. No violence but i'd talk him out of his faith and seeing he has effectively lost his job and fith, he'd kill himself. It's a wrestling competition of sorts. Total USA viewership guaranteed.

I just finished PW. This will not appeal to people of above mentioned exotic countries but I'm trying not to be so... inexplicable. Sigh. I'm a contradiction. I hate this country but I think only this country understands my sense of humour. Sometimes i lie awake at night thinking about all the foreign people feeling repulsed by me.

In America: "You fucking Asian hoe! You're not funny! Get the hell out of here and stop laughing like a derp!"

In Africa:"Kiss kiss make love! Oh! Ew! Yo pussy too small. Me gone haveta call tha masta killa to cut chu up!"

In Ireland:" You're in love with Shane Filan? Oh no you don't break up families you bloody Asian prostitute. Take your dirty little cunt somewhere else in China!"

In Poland:" EAT! EAT ALL THE FISH!!!! What?! You hate fish? Then you have no right to remain in our country! Get out of here or i'll shove that swordfish into your small slitty eyes!"

In Saudi Arabia/Pakistan/Libya etc etc: "OH small pussy i like. Fuck fuckl fuck small pussy! Shut up, stop screaming you cheap babi eater! No, start screaming again actually, i like hear you in pain!! Allahu allah!!"


In Papua New Guinea: "Yellow meat? Never tried that before? maybe it'd be tastier than white meat, let's try it!"

I think only in Singapore do people just frown at me and eat other creatures and rape other stuff instead of me.

Ok, anyway i was doing PW. I think i suck. But i can't decide if i like it or not. I don't like it because i suck at it and it's just too much work. I like it because it brought at least 5 people in my class closer together. I think f it were not for PW I would have just gone about my life ignoring Xinyi,Christine,Xianzhe and Veldas forever. Like, just hi-bye friends. But now i think there's some sort of connection, like some bond or something. Maybe it's just me feeling like that and the rest of the people still hate me. No, actually i really don't think so. I think we really are closer. I feel suddenly elated at this revelation because somehow my lfe has a bit more hope. I don't know what to say, just that I'm very happy.


I wish people didn't go about their whole lives being strangers. But rather strangers than hi-bye friends. Like...say me and Yi-an or Meiyin(the one still in our school). It's not like we have nothing to talk about. Have, like Junleong or other bombotic stuff. But i think it just needs a lot more time. I really don't feel comfortable talking to people i don't really know and i just give up on conversation altogether. Like Janice. Even after so long i still don't really know her. She doesn't really talk a lot or stuff. I'm not that great a conversationalist actually because i need it to be both ways. Entertaining one-way is really difficult. I think I'm not cut out to be a celebrity. Because when I'm sad i want everyone to respond to it. If i perform to a crowd of wide-eyed audience, in my mind i will just scorn them. I'm selfish. I want epople to understand me. But the thing is, i spend a lot a lot of time trying to understand people. Sometimes in the dead of the night some random person will pop into my head and i'll start thinking about what they're really like. What's the side that i don't see. Sometimes even people that go as far back as when i was 7. i wonder about my aunts and uncles and people i've lost touch with or have never ever touched at all and of course, the people that have touched my life the most. I wonder why not everyone wonders. It's so important.

I kind of feel apologetic to Veldas. I'm thinking if i screwed up my PW part. I don't know why but i think it's so super important not because it's an exam or something but because i feel i owe it to the group. i didn't give a heck about my PI. I wanted to type because i felt like my life was doomed this way or that in that shitass school but i immediately felt my mood drop so so so low saying that so i couldn't finish that sentece. I'm worrying if the mental conditioning Yiting mentioned is true. I shall stop complaining about my plight. But that doesn't m,ean I've ceased to hate it. I just hate it silently and with a deathly vengeance.


No failed love stories for a while. I'm thinking of stuff that i can say aand cannot say and what will make me their mortal enemy. Sigh. This little failed love storytelling project may have to drag into my 30s or something, when we finally drift so far apart that i can safely tell all of Saudi arabia, iraq,pakistan,philippine etc that i've loved him beofre. like a stupid, stupid bridget jones. out of reach, so far, i never had your heart. in my reach, i can see, there's a life out there for me. but i was, so confused,my heart's bruised, was i ever loved by you?( it's a song called out of reach in the bridget jones' soundtrack)

okay. i'm going to try to write the script now. i thought the words would find themselves but no. sigh. stop sighing. ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RNNNNNGGG!!!!!!

Michelangelo's father hated him because his father thought he failed him by not being a carpenter but a "worthless" painter. Since time immemorial artists have been thought to have worthless professions. Even with the highest accolade, feelings, intangible feelings, should not be that big a part of our lives, and why? His dad wrote a lot of hate letters to him and sometimes he would just ask his dad to stop sending them because it brought him too much grief but still he just siad,"Everything i do, I do it for your love".  WHY? why? I'll be wonderig about Michelangelo before i sleep.