Went to the study in USA fair today at the Pan Pac, what a wonderful waste of time >:(

1) Location hard to find
2) fake Columbia is not a good idea... talk about being low class (this reminds me of the other time I found fake Oxford College, but they have since changed names)
3) Only big name: NYU Tisch. Problem: Asia campus, and only for post-grad degrees (for Chun Wai and Mong)

In short it was quite a waste of time, no huge names (which was understandable though), and I didn't really know any better about studying in the US than I did before I went.

Exams start tomorrow!

I have not written in a long time.

Libération

The moment he stepped out of the door, leaving it to close agonisingly slow and deliver an ashamed click, she got up and dried her tears. Jumping to her feet, she raced to the bathroom – an uncontrollable urge to see her face as if it had been drastically altered within the last hour since she’d last checked her hair.

The same face she had beheld for years appeared before her sight, eyes slightly redder, hair messier, lips puffy from the collagen that was tears. Slowly lifting her hands to touch her face, she traced her fingers over the gentle contours of her face, recalling the places where he had once occupied – he and the others before him, staking their claim on her but soon relinquishing their ownership. Then she had an epiphany; it was her, this hateful detestful face that brought her downfall every time.

Every single one of them, the silver tongued fools – they never loved her, instead they loved her. Oh how they spoke about how beautiful she was, the thoughts choked her like a string of cursed pearls: every single bead a compliment paid in return for something. Suddenly seized by an overwhelming hatred, she looked upon her face with great distaste, you are my undoing, she thought. The more she began to consider her thoughts rationally, the more they began to build up momentum and take a life of their own. Every single self pitying phrase, insult, insecurity rose up and joined its ranks – marching onwards in a great movement.

No more no more she cried out finally, great passion and hurt flooding over her person. Quietly slipping into the mode when passion has completely overwhelmed reason (or perhaps reason itself has fled), she grabbed at a razor blade sitting quietly on the counter top and started to tear into her face. With every cut she made, with every slice into thin skin, she felt the burden from her heart slowly slip away. The pain made her freer – the tears she cried stung the wounds and the sight of the streams of blood and tears dropping into the once pristine white sink liberated her further. Her mind flashed through a thousand days, every man that she once loved – every little thing cutting her inside and being repaired simultaneously by the cuts she was now making.

Finally exhausted with emotion and physical pain, she made her last cut into her cheek. Letting the blade fall into the sink from her now bloody hands, she ignored the small clink it made as she once more beheld her face. Lines were scored into her face, bare red flesh peeping out, and what remained of her face caked in blood, she was finally gone. She smiled and she sank to the floor and started to drift off to sleep on a puddle of blood. She had never felt so satisfied and at ease with her spirit before.

For no more would she be undone by man, for they would no longer want her.

I feel very used now.

Disturbing: my arms can't stop trembling/twitching even when I just lie them on the table, and no, I did not partake in my usual dosage of anarex (goodness knows why there is hardly anything on this drug online... suspicious) - no headaches today, thank goodness.

Been staying in school till past 8 the entire week to study, very tired and exhausted. Part of me cannot wait for the exams to start so I can get it over and done with :x Health is also starting to get bad, combination of stress and less sleep. Urgh, hope I don't fall sick in the middle of the exams.

Now back to Bio.

Edit: back again. What the flying fuck, I can't believe this is actually true >.< this world is going to hell faster than I think it is.

How embarrassing, while hopping off a table in backstage during honour's day today, the entire top flew off along with me, dumping stuff all over the place >.<

Also, having reverse weeaboo constantly poking you to READ FASTER, READ MORE LIVELIER, and the pe teacher entering your personal space to cross out names and block your line of sight - is not pleasant. Add in the fact that I was scared of messing up, and I was literally quaking on stage as I read out names :x

I need CAS.

Mud! Kip!

As much as it goes against what I really feel, I really love Rilo's Breakin' Up, it can get me dancing in my seat and singing along. Besides that song and Silver Lining, I don't really like Under the Blacklight. Doesn't sound like them at all.

School tomorrow :x

Edit: I just realised tomorrow is the 24th. I don't even remember of keep track anymore...

There's probably a good reason why the girl depicted in the caricature of the 'sexual predators' article on the front page of today's paper looks like she's in the MGS uniform.

Won another solitaire game with a score of 3609 and a time of 238!

Perhaps it'll be a better day, after many more sunsets.

If it wasn't without friends, I honestly have no idea what I'd do.

Eating greasy and strange tasting french fries outside the squash courts, hopping with bare feet on the bouncy astroturf and wanting to scream the life out of me, to listening to chiseled together white stripes in the drama room, sitting on dusty steps as the sun set with it's orange rays as the birds flew away from the trees.

Even though life is anything but perfect, it doesn't take much to appreciate it and live it to it's fullest (:

To everyone that was there to help me today, Daryl, Song, Gen, Mong, Kevin, John, Chooway, Darren and Cielo (+ Sir), thank you. Your help means so much to me.

I need to be strong and fight my way out of this, somehow: and I need all the help I can possibly get :x

As fast as the tarp has been thrown over the shattered remains, it has been cruelly snatched away as more of her fell off into it.

The little things - they call out to me. He never understood them, never connected despite his constant searchings for them.

And it is with these little things that I am left with, a little touch of humanity in a cold world out there, someone else to share my ever present sorrow:

"The message which has been left for you is:

If she only knew how much I loved her"

I just had supper with my father, and something in what he said makes me think he still carries a torch for the girl who left him before he met my mother.

Suddenly the world seems deeper and more shadowy than before.

Whoosh. Haven't been able to blog coherently in a while other than random thoughts strung together.

Friday
In the morning as I was waiting for the bus to come, I was eating a banana and standing at my doorway, looking out at the road when suddenly a dragonfly flew in, perused by a winged black figure.

At first I thought it was a bird and was all 'OH NO' because I HATE flying stuff near me, I'm scared of them landing on me or something (long story from when I was a kid) and the fact it was going to be stuck in my living room. Things could only get more worse/interesting from here.

The fan was also switched on and before I know it there was a freaking bat being sucked around in circles which were getting smaller with each round. Fuck. Splatter bat is not how I wanted to start my day. By this time I had ran towards the kitchen, away from the power switches, adrenalin coursing through my veins with every extra minute and freaking out at WINGED FLYING CREATURE.

After staring at it for about 1-2 minutes, my mind shouting "DO SOMETHING THE BUS WILL BE HERE SOON!", I dashed across the living room and switched off the fan and ran out of the house with my bag. I never did see the bat fly out, but when my dad came down 1-2 minutes after I ran out of the living room, he said he didn't see a bat anywhere. Hmm.

Monday
Chapel was by Truth Ministry in the Boarding School Dining Hall and we had to sit on the floor again. Really inconvenient for the girls given how tight and short the skirts are.

Anyhoo, the sermon was massive fail. It started off well enough, then MR failed and the music video, which was revealed to be Linkin Park's Numb didn't play. The topic was 'Hear No Evil'.

The sermon came across as being ill informed, bigoted and badly done overall. For instance Linkin Park was given as a negative example because it supposedly 'numbed' teenagers to God given life. Hello dearies, you have not seen anything yet - Hawthorn Heights anyone? (thanks to Nic)

"(YOU...KILL...ME...WELL)
So cut my wrists and black my eyes.
My final breath is gone
So I can fall asleep tonight"
- Ohio is for Lovers

Now see, that is negative. And that's just emo, I thought they were going to talk about rap music's obsession with sex and money, heavy metal bands rocking about rape (I swear I saw some band with Inter-(something) as a name and Turned Off By the Vaginal Stink on someone's last.fm), to the plain satanic. Why. Linkin. Park. Fail example, really laughable. Even Marilyn Manson who is just weird but perceived to be satanic is a better example.

Not only that, the lady went on to talk about her friend's daughter who read 'dark books' and later committed suicide. Now see, wtf dark books? Depending on your stance, The Anarchist's Handbook is a dark book, Harry Potter and LOTR too! And she blames the books for the suicide, if you're making such a devastating claim, tell us what titles the books are to substantiate your argument! (And I just realised this has nothing to do with Hearing at all.)

Then there was the most wtf analogy I ever heard, good and bad as a black dog and a white dog. "Feed only the white dog because it is good! Black dog is bad." Talk about having racist undertones.

Good intentions, but one of the most naive and stereotype-of-a-Christian (the speaker) sermons I have ever heard. If you're so passionate about it, please go do your research and think about your audience, at 17 you're already educated enough to be cynical - much less my school where you have to be cynical in order to survive.

Blogging should be less now, exams start on the 1st October, less than 2 weeks away! Eeep.

I sit here, music playing, air conditioner blowing, electric lights switched on half dazed typing Ecology notes out.

CONSERVE ENERGY!

ALTERNATIVE FUELS!

There is heap loads of irony here but I am too tired to appreciate it.

One thing I do know for sure, I really don't want to introduce any more inhabitants to this fast- becoming-God-forsaken place.

Facebook's warbook app is like epenis - and I RESENT IT WHEN PEOPLE TRY TO KICK MY EPENIS. Blargh!

No time for proper post ):

I listen to the old songs, singing to them in a whole new way. They are you, of you, because of you. In moments where the energy is gone from me and there is simply nothing in me left for much emotional response, I am able to sing without tearing the least - freedom yet imprisonment at the same time.

They both drown me and save me at the same time, a heartless lover.

I know he doesn't read this anymore, his way of running away I suppose. Running and leaving me behind. I want to run away too, but am shackled here. All the same I cannot bear to leave.

For those of you who do not know, I don't want to beat around the bush anymore and if you didn't guess from my cryptic posts - he left me 2 weeks ago.

I am the same, yet no more.

This calls for a teary rendition of Reunion and more exhausted pleas of the heart to the stone.

I had just finished lunch and was sitting around the dining room and finishing up the rest of the paper I was reading when my dad called me from the computer table, in the living room.

"Hey look! You're not as useless as I say you are"

I went over and he merrily showed me this website: http://marryourdaugther.org/. Yes you got that right, it's MARRY OUR DAUGHTER, a glorified matchmaking site.

Imagine my wtf meter as I saw advertisements like:and...

There was one selling for $3,995 too.

Okay, now would be a good time to declare that I have lost 99% of faith in mankind of the already 75% lost years ago.

To my relief however when I googled it on my laptop later, I found out it was a hoax, and a really good one at that. I was just about to launch into some pro-individualist, pro-feminist spiel and condemn all men to the depths of hell for even thinking of engaging is such business - but as I said it was a hoax. A thought provoking one at that, since I imagine much of this rubbish still occurs in third world countries around the world.

Terribly really - and the fact that we need such websites in order to recall their still common occurrence around the world.

我真的不了*情.

(*解)

Your EQ is 133

50 or less: Thanks for answering honestly. Now get yourself a shrink, quick! 51-70: When it comes to understanding human emotions, you'd have better luck understanding Chinese. 71-90: You've got more emotional intelligence than the average frat boy. Barely. 91-110: You're average. It's easy to predict how you'll react to things. But anyone could have guessed that. 111-130: You usually have it going on emotionally, but roadblocks tend to land you on your butt. 131-150: You are remarkable when it comes to relating with others. Only the biggest losers get under your skin. 150+: Two possibilities - you've either out "Dr. Phil-ed" Dr. Phil... or you're a dirty liar.

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

I finished the article! Only thing is I need to run it past editorman, Daryl :/ Hope it works, can't think of another way to approach it.

I was looking through the pictures I took yesterday after school, and of all of them this has to be the most mindfuck picture, ever. Bonus points if you can guess which part of the school this is.

Won another solitaire game with a score of 4170 and time of 200, for whatever consolation that is.

I feel like a black hole again :x

My imagination is so vivid that I actually feel kind of creeped out over the article I'm writing for !nk now...

and...


I FINALLY WON MY FIRST SOLITAIRE GAME! (On my own laptop! :D)

Just finished the worst piece of Chinese work I have ever written... and it doesn't even have 老虎 in it. Wait I just got an idea to add it in!

Anyway it's so bad that I feel embarrassed to write my name on it :x blah. I swear my Chinese has gotten 10,000x worse that what it used to be in MGS where I would literally fail everything but somehow managed to scrape a pass for the O levels :/

Haha. I am the bane of the school because I pull their precious 6.something average wayyy down. Now if only they had offered Japanese ab. I would have taken it up...

Freaking irritated with the parents now because there was duck in last night's soup and they didn't tell me, and when I got upset they laughed at me.

When I was Pri 5 I had two ducks and one day my parents gave them to the grandmother to kill. To add insult to it, they cooked the ducks and ate them in front of me. Can you say childhood trauma? Wtf wtf wtf wtf.

Ever since then I never ate duck, freaking disgusting. My parents know that I refuse to eat duck and yet they don't respect my choice enough to even tell me. It's not like I impose my views on others, I don't stop people from eating duck, I just don't eat it myself. Even that they won't allow me. As if it's not bad enough that when I'm sick I end up being scolded for falling sick and 10,000 other bits of shit, like they don't take me seriously at all.

Fucking irritating.

What the hell, I just wrote half an EE for the latest Sir reverse weeabo's prose. I hope I do well enough to justify the irritation, frustration and time spent on it.

I'm going to get myself a tree ^_^

This is my gift to myself.

せんしゅう.

At the end of the day it is the old evergreen songs which remain and speak the most of our hearts.

不了情.

The holidays are just about ended *cue massive groans from all around*, and for the first time I MANAGED TO WATCH EVERY SINGLE MOVIE I WANTED :D

Saturday night was The Willow Tree with Patrick, then on Tuesday I watched Jesus Camp with the father, I saw Ghosts with Darren san, Kevin, Nicholas, Mong and Ben Soh on Friday and today was The Home Song Stories. I must say of all the movies I loved The Home Song Stories the most, it was just so tragically beautiful and the part was wonderfully acted by Joan Chen. One can only hope to look that good at her age!

Film gushing aside, I have )($)@# pile of work to deal with. I tell you this school is mad, with so much work the clear how the hell do they ever expect us to get down to studying for the End of Years? These are supposed to be the best years of our lives, not the most stressed-out-bogged-down. I have so sold my soul ):

It's a minor thing, but changing them means no turning back;

The final nail in a coffin long deep into the ground and buried.

Not as if there was a corpse to cry over in the first place.

Fin

I am starting to get very annoyed with my gender.

Today after Econs I went to the National Library with Daryl and Ted Kin, they were going to do research for TOK and I figured I might as well get some work for EE done. We went to put our stuff in the lockers before entering the reference section, and I had a most unpleasant encounter with some of them.

There were 2 of them, perhaps my age or a little older, and they were putting their stuff into the lockers as well. I was taking stuff out of my bag, including the Mandarin B past year papers booklet which I placed on the floor and was faced upwards.

Girl: "Eh is ACSI the same as ACJC?"
Girl2: "Dunno lah, why did she *indeciperable* do that, to let us see issit?"
Me: (thinking) "What the flying fuck?!"

However like 30 seconds before I was there, there was this other girl in an ACS(International) shirt and FBTs at the locker area. So I had no idea who the hell they were referring to, but was sufficiently pissed/shocked anyway. Then when I got turned away by the guard and returned to put the booklet back in my bag, the two girls were talking again.

Girl?: "Haha, she's back again, got turned down."

WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF. I was too shocked to do anything. but believe me I was damn pissed after that. When I told Ted Kin and Daryl, Ted Kin said I should have beaten them up. Hah. I hope they get the men they deserve :D :D :D :D :D

Then later in the ladies were another bunch of irritants, not sure if they were the same group since I couldn't recognise them, and they were half gossiping/bitching -__________-

DIE ALL OF YOU IRRITANTS!

I'm a modern girl
but I fold in half so easily.

Is it better to love or be loved?

There’s a famous song, popularised by the movie Moulin Rouge which carries the line “the greatest thing is to love and be loved in return”. Perhaps to a dismissive cynic, that line would be thoroughly scoffed at and swept away under a cloud of criticism of naivety, surely you jest, they say, some people prefer money to love, you poor innocent child. From a romanticist view however, love is everything in the world and more. However this isn’t meant to be a discussion on love being great, but rather when love fails (for it can be said it is not true love unless it is truly reciprocated) in the true sense of the word, when it becomes one sided.

I’d assume that most of the people who read this would be at least be adolescents or older (or else I’d be kind of afraid due to some of the content on this blog), and we’ve all gone through situations where we’ve fallen madly in love with someone who won’t give us the time of the day, or to that effect. More uncommonly is the situation when someone falls in love with us and we are unable to return the sentiment. I personally have been on both sides of the story, and both are unpleasant enough for me to want to dismiss love as being the stuff of pink unicorns and flying spaghetti gods. Unfortunately I haven’t been a hardened enough cynic to close off my mind to the widespread evidence that romantic love does exist. Perhaps one day, but not to-day.

Somewhere along the line, someone decided that one-sided affairs should be romanticised. From the pages of Cyrano de Bergerac to the myth of Echo (sorry my knowledge of contemporary literature has failed me this time), the ones who love with no affirmation are regarded as the heroes, poor tragic heroes. They are the ones who goes to great lengths for their loves or die from sadness. Even today we always tend to pity the ones who cannot stop loving, and curse the ones who cruelly refuse this love. But what does it really feel like to love with no hope of reciprocation? (Oh how the mind is such a twisted tool when overwhelmed with the feeling of love.) We hope against hope that one day the person will come around and love us back; we vow to sacrifice our lives and everything we hold dear just for the happiness of the other; we despair when the person is so out of reach; we are overwhelmed with happiness at the slightest sign of reciprocation. We are fools, truly fools in love, but romanticised figures nonetheless.

And on the less reported side of the affair, there’s the lovee (the target). Often the lovee doesn’t even have the slightest inkling about the lover’s intentions at all, as much as the lover fears he/she is overtly obvious, so such experiences are much less than that of the lover. I personally hated being a lovee. There were no highs, only lows. I felt like a bitch for not being able to return the affection, and indeed I was villainised as such by the people who were friends with this lover. On the other hand I was filled with a paranoid fear that this lover would stalk me and hurt me, though that was quite an extreme case. The worst part being a lovee is that it is often a fight between one’s conscience and one’s heart. We are often compelled to try and force ourselves to return the feeling out of obligation while our hearts are screaming no no no! We are the villains, who unthinkingly hurt the heroes of the story.

The problem for both sides though, is that love is not something controllable, you can’t change the way you feel, it just happens on it’s own. You can’t force someone to love you; you cannot add ingredients and expect it to just pop up. You cannot shower someone with love and expect them to love you back if they don’t. In some cases love can be cultivated slowly, like in arranged marriages, but that it quite a moot point in today’s modern society. You can however, fool yourself to think that you’re in love, but that’s not love is it? You’d just by lying to yourself. Similarly as a lover you can’t change the love you feel. There is no wrong and no right, there is only a mess and sadness.

Bottom line? Love stinks, yeah yeah.

Downtown Singapore at night is filled with 4 kinds of people; the broken, the homeless, the lover and the young.

Last night I was all 4 at the same time.

Okay wow, in 7 hours all the volunteers have to report at the Marina Barrage for the Aviva Ironman Competition. For those lazy to calculate it's 3am, 2nd September.

While everyone sensibly went to nap in the afternoon, try as I might I couldn't fall to sleep at all. For over 5 hours I tried, yielding less than 30 minutes of rest. Curses. Tomorrow will be hell in more ways than one.