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Just realised that my favourite TV show in the world, Sex and the City will be airing its final episode today.
This is disaster.
Never before have I felt so emotionally attached to TV characters (well, Channel 8 has crap shows, what can I say?). Yes yes, I am suffering from para-social interaction with TV characters. I want to marry Aragorn. My next man is going to write me poetry and sing me songs like Ryan Sutter (Ryan as in Trista Rehn and Ryan Sutter? The Bachelorette?) did and he should also have 8-packs like Ryan's. Yes, para-social relationships indeed.
But anyway, back to the topic. I am so excited because it seems that Mr. Big is going to go after Carrie and bring her back into his life after all that they have gone through. Yes! He's finally gotten over his committment phobia and realised that Carrie is the one for him. And really, Mr. Big is rather a tempting offer. Suave, charming, wealthy, sweet. Compared with the old-fashioned and old Petrovsky, he really is the cream of the crop.
I can't wait for the finale to play out!
Now, if only I can get hold of Season 6.
Forgive me, bank account, for I have sinned today.
I actually cabbed around today.
Twice, in fact.
Yes, twice.
It was really my own fault the first time round.
Being dead tired and exhausted the previous night, I overslept in the morning and was thus late for an appointment. Decided to be a responsible person and not get to my appointment too late. Bad choice - I nearly murdered the taxi driver with my own two hands at the end of the ride.
First, that nasty little man drove so slowly that even three-tonne trucks ambled past us. During the whole duration of the journey, the needle of the speedometer did not cross the 60km/h mark at all. Never. Never, ever. Worse, the driver seemed to enjoy trailing buses. He remained in the bus lane throughout most of the journey and the only scenery that I could view in front of the cab was the ridiculously uncreated ads at the back of buses. If the windows had been wound down, I probably would have died of carbon dioxide poisoning from the exhaust fumes of the buses.
And speaking of fumes, that man seemed to have no concept of temperature. The sun was shining high up in the sky and it was hot and humid. But no, that nasty little man did not seem to notice the heat and the air-conditioning remained at that uncomfortable neither-cool-nor-warm temperature.
Then, nasty little man made a wrong turn which got my sense of direction all mixed up and confused. Not only did he not apologize, he had the cheek to dump the blame on me.
"You should have told me not to turn," said the nasty little man.
*BAMMMM* went my imaginary fist into his nasty little face.
Later that evening, I went out with my friends after practice. It was all quite fun, us sitting around and playing with digital cameras (obviously theirs and not mine). I got a little bored and asked if we were going anywhere after that.
"We're playing mahjong," came the reply. I was incredulous - there were eight of us there and mahjong is for like, four people? I figured he was just irritating me for the fun of it.
Fast forward to midnight. We were out of the joint and deciding where to go. As usual, the whole gang of us just hung around and got sidetracked by things like limbo rock and Pepsi-cola-1-2-3 (a game). Twenty minutes later, someone asked, "So how now?"
And the answer came, "Mahjong."
I am not very good at mahjong and I do not think that my friends would be very happy with me if I played since I would be a terribly slow player. The others who don't play had already gone off.
I did not want to spoil their night and decided to go off home. And hence, cab number two of the day, which cost me $20.
Now, I am merely a poor student. As it is, my bank account is being depleted due to lack of income and tonnes of bills to pay and books to buy. I did not even want to waste money at the expensive eating joint that we were at.
It was probably my own fault for not believing it when they said they were playing mahjong. If only I had taken the train home earlier and saved that $20.
I'm sorry, bank account.
I promise I will be good for the next few weeks. If need be, I'll starve. *sobs*
Nothing lasts forever
Nothing remains evergreen
Nothing that time cannot sever
Nothing is what it seems
With the passing of time
Come the changes of the mind
With each and every clock chime
Is a reminder of what I have left behind
Love will grow old
Love will fade
The chambers of my heart grow cold
With all the broken promises you made
The past is always there
Never to be forgotten
Thinking back on happy times shared
And all the lessons learned
You are gone from my life
Never will be mine again
Torn apart by all the strife
Leaving shredded hearts riven
-- 14th March 1997
Oh, the pain of being in love at 16. *grin*
Went through some of my stuff over the weekend and tossed out two big bags of things which I had kept out of sentimental reasons. Well, it's not that I am unsentimental now but some things are just not worth keeping. Found some of the old poems that I used to pen when I was in secondary school, very angsty and pain-ridden. Can't blame me, I had fancied myself a melancholic and depressed poet.
Here's one poem I wrote when I was 15 or 16.
Apart,
Torn by our pain
Without any courage
To talk things through
Alone,
Crying hard inside
Too isolated and tired
to put up a fight
Away,
All faith vanishing
This struggle against tears
I can no longer win
Aloud,
I mourn my love
Buried deep down
In my heart's hearth
Nothing much to update here.
Between bouts of lows and stomach upsets (suspect I have lost a couple of kilos last week due to fact that I ate 1/5 of what I normally eat a day for one whole week - my top was flappy today and I nearly died of heart attack upon seeing my spaghetti-strap-topped body in mirror), you can pretty much say that I am living the life of characters from The House Of The Dead.
Anyway.
Been reading an intriguing book entitled Life. An Enigma, a Precious Jewel which can be found here.
It's an English translation of a Japanese book on the meaning of life, the existence of life and its connection to Buddhism.
I admit that a lot of its theories, drawn from philosophers ranging from Kant to Mill, are lost on me but as I persist in reading, I find its analysis logical and mystifying at the same time. Is that possible? Is such a contradiction ever possible? But then again, life is something that is intangible and yet it inhabits a body so real and prone to damage and decay.
I saw meaning in a certain part of the book and want to share it with my friends who drop by here occasionally. It is an analogy used to illustrate the symbiotic relationship between human beings and the universe.
"The body moves and transforms the shadow, but at the same time, the body is in a sense created by the shadow, for the body would not be a body if it did not cast a shadow. In other words, the body is given being and identity by the environment and vice versa."
Almost makes me want to say "Amen" but somehow, it's not really appropriate, is it?
I do not care very much for the differences in gender perception of nonverbal cues.
It's super irritating that I cannot find any information out there.
Been surfing for so long that I think I am going mad.
If I have to look through another article/journal paper/powerpoint presentation again, I will scream.
Yes, I will scream.
According to the test found on Ash's site, I am classified as the Window Shopper, when it comes to love. Well, obviously I am not such a window shopper when it comes to shopping.
Anyway, what this test means is this:
Random Gentle Love Dreamer (RGLDf)
Loving, hopeful, open. Likely to carry on a romance from afar. You are The Window Shopper.
You take love as opportunities come, which can lead to a high-anxiety, but high-flying romantic life. You're a genuinely sweet person, not saccharine at all, so it's likely that the relationships you have had and will have will be happy ones. You've had a fair amount of love experience for your age, and there'll be much more to come. (sheesh, more of this crap???)
Part of why we know this is that, of all female types, you are the most prone to sudden, ferocious crushes. (case in point..... =P) Your results indicate that you're especially capable of obsessing over a guy you you just met. Obviously, passion like this makes for an intense existence. It can also make for soul-destroying letdowns (tell me about it *roll eyes*).
Your ideal match is someone who'll love you back with equal fire, and someone you've grown to love slowly. A self-involved or pessimistic man is especially bad (hmm.....). Though you're drawn to them, avoid artists at all costs.
Perfectly true and perfectly right.
Not embarrassed of it and why should I be?
Being passionate is a good thing and I intend to retain my passion in life.
People who cannot be passionate about me need not apply.
Apparently, one pill of Valium is more than enough for me.
Even though it was only 5mg.
My mum takes only a quarter tablet and it seems that for a person my size, half a pill is more than enough.
No wonder it worked so fast and was so effective. I was awaken twice and fell back asleep instantly.
I love sleeping and I love my bed!
It did come upon me at last.
12 hours of blessed and deep sleep, where I had no dreams, no recollection of anything done in the day. Just deep and peaceful sleep.
Well, thank the Valium.
I haven't slept in 31 hours and still I cannot sleep.
I do not know why, for I am fatigued.
And yet, sleep does not come to me.
Now, I have to rely on Diazepam, otherwise known as Valium, to induce sleep.
Hopefully, it works and you won't see me posting for the rest of the night.
Perfect.
See, who needs a man when all that he does can be replaced by a website?
And if a man really vexes you to the point that you wish you could smack him on his head, do try out this site (taken from http://www.kung-foo.tv/blog/). This has restored my good mood considerably.
Hell, ya!
To those of you who don't know who William Hung is, do a search on Google and you will get a pretty clear picture of who this sweet man is.
He managed to entertain and enthrall the whole of America and Singapore with his flat rendition of Ricky Martin's She Bangs, complete with some good 'ol butt wriggling at the American Idol auditions. But bad singing aside, he won me over with his sincerity and honesty.
This man has absolutely no pretensions and illusions. He was genuinely sincere when he explained to the camera that he was here to try out something different from his major in university, civil engineering. And my heart just melted when he told the judges that he had no professional training (at which stage Simon Cowell remarked, "Oh surprise of the century!"). He was not cowed (pun intended) by the repressed laughter of the three judges and went on to say how he had done his best and had no regrets with his performance.
Look at that man. He is so real, so honest and so genuine. And the best thing was, he left the audition with dignity. Unlike other deluded people who refused to leave and whined about the judges being biased and blind, he said thank you and he left. No tantrums, no prima donna attitude. He accepted that he wasn't good enough and he left.
He may not have gotten past the auditions, he may seem to represent the stereotypical Chinaman in America but hey, he's a real winner.
This article showcases William Hung and his life after the audition.
He rocks!
Yes, I am back with a vengeance, fulfilling my social responsibility to the people who have asked me why I haven't been writing recently.
Today, I am going to treat this blog as my pensieve and extract all my thoughts from it. We always talk about information overload being one of the main effects of globalisation in class and there are times when I understand exactly what it means to have that. Since I do not live in a magical world (alas!), the next closest alternative shall be a product of the technological world - the Internet.
I am shallow
There are times when I wonder at my interest in the world. Sure, I enjoy reading news and I like to keep myself abreast of the issues that are rocking the globe. I know about the bird flu, the Democrats' process of finding a presidential candidate (Kerry is leading so far) and the current price of COE etc.
But really, I am more interested in trivial stuff. Like fighting to get tickets for the Lord of The Rings Trilogy Marathon. Like trying desperately to catch the French movie Love Me If You Dare before it ends. Like looking out for the perfect pair of palazzo capris and rubber thong heels. Like trying to get hold of Norah Jones' music illegally.
Sometimes, I wonder whatever happened to me along the way. Where did that girl who loved Oscar Wilde and the old Bard himself go? What happened to the person who used to love improvisation sessions with her TSD group mates? Is the girl who used to take to the challenge of conducting practical criticism on poetry written by the likes of Sylvia Plath dead and gone? If so, who buried her? And why? And where? Can she be resurrected again, like Buffy (see what I mean when I say shallow)?
I question the sanctity of Marriage
Yes, as you can see, I have grown cynical to the "till death do us part" ideal. I used to believe in The One (ala The Matrix), thinking that in this world, there will be someone who is right for us. Not perfect to us, mind you, but perfect for us. Oh, the grandeur of it all.
Basically, it's all an illusion. In this time and age, people are walking away from unions faster than you can say "Supercalifragilisticaspialadocious". If it breaks, get a new one. Nobody really gives a damn about "working things out" anymore. Men thinks that the women are complaining too damn much. Women sniff that the men are insensitive bastards. Well, both parties are right. So, why bother?
But then I look around me and I see that love actually is all around me. I see it in a man who simply cannot bear to cause grief and hurt to the woman he loves. I see it in a mother whose greatest achievement is giving birth to an adorable and excitable boy. I see it in an elderly couple, who held hands as they walked and sat down at the beach to watch the sunset.
I start believing again.
And the next vicious cycle of heartache begins all over again.
Stress gets the better of me
The flood of work has begun to engulf me again. And as much as I relish it, my emotional side gets the better of me and I find myself sinking into the murky depths again.
The skies are grey and life seems bleak. I am getting crap honours. And my pay will be miserable since working in the media does not pay much. I have exorbitant fees to pay off. My arteries are clogging due to the fatty foods that I eat and I will die of a heart attack by the time I turn 30. And when I die, I will be penniless (due to aforementioned pathetic salary), loveless (given my miniscule social circle and lack of social skills) and full of loneliness (friends having all married long ago with 2.5 kids and 5Cs).
Wait.
Am I 23 or 83?
I want to strike Toto
Right.
That's my ultimate goal. Strike Toto and I will do the following things:
But in the meantime, I shall have to stop dreaming and start getting back to work.
It's nearly 6am.
Why am I not sleeping yet?
I just finished half my share of the work for a project, which is one in many projects that I have to do in order to graduate.
As Yenew says, I have to blog in order to be socially responsible to my friends. And hence, here I am. At 6 am in the morning.
Haven't really been blogging because, well, some things are just too personal to be shared sometimes.
Anyway, it's been a pretty bad week.
Not bad in the sense that I suffer from depression.
It's more of the things that are happening around me.
Well, for one, my mother is officially jobless now. And that means, I am starting to question my idea of touring Europe after my graduation. It sounds selfish and spoilt and I am going to sound whiny when I say, "But it's something I have always wanted to do." There are bills to pay, debts to clear (amounts that are in the region of $20,000) and mouths to feed. Is going to Europe really that important? Would my hard earned money be better off paying my debts? I know she won't forbid me from going, but in her heart, she would rather I not go.
Another thing is that I am starting to feel distanced from my FYP. Things that were decided and dates that were set - all these were not known to me. I had to find them out by accident. And I hate that.
And I hate the way my emotions take rollercoaster rides at my expense. It's not fun and it's definitely not funny. Little things trigger the greatest onset of emotional floods. I have to learn to control myself more.
This week has also been a week of reflections and regrets. I am starting to worry about getting a job when I graduate and getting a lousy honours when people around me are scoring As and on their way to a good honours. It's too late, of course, but still I wish I could have better focused on my studies, especially during my third year. But I was stupid, I let personal problems get the better of me and now I am paying the price for that. I also wish that I had been more open to people during my four years at university. I foolishly limited my circles, thinking that I had my loved one and my friends and they were all that mattered. Well, the loved one has turned out to be the wrong one and I am stuck here with a social circle so small that it could be formed with my thumb and index finger.
And now, I have gone and done something so silly and ridiculous that I feel ashamed of myself. I can't believe the lengths at which I would go just to do it, something which doesn't matter in the end. Shame on me.
As Jewel says, "it's not all bad but it's not all clean". Sounds like life.