over and over again

Putumayo music is the sex.



Yummeh. I have 6 Cs (combination of +-), 4Bs, 2As and 1D. HAHAHAHAHA! Awesome. I've no frickin clue how to calculate my GPA so fuck that. I'm gonna go enjoy some Latin music right now. Mmmsalsa.

Right, ought to prepare my stuff for tomorrow. Pullover, shorts, slippers and shades to hide the panda eyes. Damn. I'm still debating: to cut my hair or grow it out.

We'll see the plan tomorrow.

she really has nothing else to add

Perv level in the neighbourhood just upped. Fat old man in a Merc slowed by me, trailed me, wound down the window and tried to say something and then moved slowly off. He turned into the lane to Chris's house, slowed down and looked as if he was about to turn. But traffic got to him. I had to run in heels. They hurt. But I'm a sucker for vanity at times.

THE LETTER TO COLLECT THE &^#$*^$ING DEGREE CERT IS HERE!

First thing tomorrow, head down to MDIS, get my cert and transcript and laugh like a mad woman. And then... and then. Erm. Hmm. Now what do I do after that? OH! Better get PSP from my brother and sit at Starbucks and just... play. And smoke. Sweet. I've yet to finish Tales of Eternia. I hope he didn't delete it. I'll strangle him.

Happy that I finally got that fucking cert. We'll see how fucked up my GPA is. Stupid fucking callouses on my feet plus this throbbing pain at the side of my head. Am gonna crawl up into bed with my external and watch movies and then concuss. I HAVE NO WORK TOMORROW IF ONLY BECAUSE I HAVE TO BE AT SOME WEIRD ASS PLACE SUNDAY MORNING AT 7 AM.

Yeah. Damn fucked. Least I get to tan at the beach next week.

AND NO CHRIS I DO NOT LIKE OLD OLD LIKE REALY OLD AND FAT AND OMG EWWW MEN!

Done.

I love Bejewelled. I have nothing better to blog. Apart from the fact that Shaikha is my ultimate bimbo and I love her very the much. HAHA!

thanks for the memories tho

I'm trying really hard to be a sports writer. But I just can't seem to get the angles right. It isn't about reporting the game. Any other reporter can do that. I'm supposed to be able to see the game, see the sport or the event in a way that's different from everyone else. Produce something that hasn't already been reproduced by thousands others in every other publication circulating the island.

I'm trying. I just can't seem to get it. And the one thing I fear most is that at the end of it, instead of learning something I end up with nothing. Sometimes I can see it, that little sliver of an idea that I ferret out. But most times it's as if my mind's an utter blank and I find myself drawing circles every so often instead of coming up with something brilliant. That makes the readers want to flip through every page, back and again.

It's the words. Yes. But it's about the ideas, the logic, the schematics, that thing that I should be seeing that'll keep them glued to these slick CMYK-toned pages.

Fuck la. I'm getting more disappointed in myself with every article that I write. Terribly disillusioned. I thought a piece I wrote was good, by my standards. That it'd be something the editor would nod his head and tell me that yes, I got it. But when I re-read them, each and everyone one of them, I find myself frowning and cringing in embarassment and shame. Was this what I went to school for? To come up with crap and shit that even an untrained 11-year-old could do? Hell, even better than I would.

It's like singing.

And it feels as if I'm giving up. But I can't. I need to find it within myself, uncover this sight, this ability. I need to find someone, talk to someone who sees it, who can help me uncover it, who can help me master it. Yeah, and only in times like these I wish that maybe I was Sylar so I can rip the heads open of famed sports writers and see how everything ticks and clicks.

Sick.

Fatigue and erratic moodswings are not my friends.

Tonight I plan to forget the week's misery. Work misery. I have to be up at the near crack of dawn on Sunday and head down to catch some duathlon. There's still that inherent fear of talking to people, coming up to them and interviewing them. I don't know what to say. I don't want to say the same things that's been repeated and rehashed by every other journalist out there. I need something new. I need to get on that level, connect with them on a level that's not professional. Nor is it physical (for gutter-minded people out there). So much for having played sports.

I know nothing. I am nothing. And it's just so so so hard.

don't feel like it, not the least bit

I'm so sleepy. But playing this stupid game called Hammer Heads on Popcap sure woke me up. There's always the thrill of being caught playing games. Somehow I get this strange feeling the editor ain't really that happy with me. But what did I do? Been sending mails back and forth to the Original 6. Guess no meet up tonight lest we crash Shaikha's shindig at Wala.

Now... who else to call to chill and hang out? Hmm. Insaniquarium is INSANE! Senseless mouseclicking. I really don't know what to do right now. Editor is out at Sentosa and stupidJoel is heading over to Bali. Damn bastard.

Last night the big brother came by my area because he needed to head to the wharf. Picked up his stuff and we sat at the bus stop (this was after driving out of the wharf of course) and talked a bit. He's rather surprised that I've been single for quite a while now. Which only goes to show how 'well' he thinks of me. I grumble. I can remain single for as long as I want to. No, it is neither a need nor a necessity to be in a relationship. Also he mentioned that with the return of his two favourite army boys in June, we are all going for a drinking session and he aims to get me dropdeadwasted the night I turn 22.

How lovely. Though I am fortunate to have siblings such as these.

Boredom strikes and kills creativity.

Also, I've finished watching all of Heroes.

keeping out the trash

I restricted access to my blog. As yet, there are only four people who have access to it. That's of course, because I invited you in. The homies, my kindred soul and the turtle. Everyone else, uninvited, can go fuckoff.

I dislike Sylar. A lot. Took half day leave because I was really sick, ended up concussing and waking up to finish up episode 19. Thank god tomorrow is Thursday. One more day to the weekend. And then, another week of hell. I've not scheduled jamming with the boys in eons. I still feel... off. From Saturday I suppose. Just that things don't feel so right and good and proper anymore.

Insecure. Afraid. Terribly so.

Would love to post something nice up but I'm lazy. Also, I think I should invest in a 50mm lens and then a speedlight followed by tele-lens. Let's hope Msia has some nice reasonable priced ones!

I want to rent a chalet the week right before my birthday (after Phuket). Since I can't leave the country because I'll be broke by then, why not try something else eh?

one night

Forgive me if I sound the least bit ecstatic with regards to what I have to say.

WHY THE FUCK WOULD I GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU BEING IN THE CHINK PAPERS?!

Seriously. Stop wasting my sms with your nonsense.

That said, the flu/cold/Niagaralike condition of my nose is making me cranky. Coupled with that time of the month and the arctic conditions of my office. I want to go home, take like a whole slab of Panadol and just concuss and wake up with clear nasal passages.

PLEASE!

If by 1330hours I still feel like shit, I'm throwing in the towel and calling the boss and telling him that I am about to die.

let the good times roll

Technically, I didn't really wake up late. I just took my own sweet time. Now thanks to the freezing climate in the office I'm going to fall sick. In fact, I already am. Sneezing mucus, sniffling the rest of my life away and feeling so stoned and lethargic. I am so going over to DG to SB to buy coffee. I NEED MY CAFFEINE (and nicotine) FIX!!!

My other number is back online. The phone is fucked up though.

Did I blog last night? I can't remember. It's come to a point where even my memory is being whacked to hell. Anyway. We DOTA-ed and BF2-ed. Stupid Lizard King keeps killing me and then the bastard nuked my vehicle AND HE'S MY TEAM LEADER! But it's all fun and games. Screaming "run back run back!" when the higher level scourge heroes started hitting us with their cheatish powerish might.

I think I might just re-install WC3 for the sake of DOTA and MD/TD.

Wah lau. That shithead just said my msn display pic makes me look like miss piggy. Right. And to retaliate would just make me seem so childish. Grar. As if you damn good looking like that. Nbccb.

My first Starbucks fix in a long time. Maybe I should just overdose on vitamin C and turn into an orange. Work turned me into a zombie. Flesh-eating, growling/groaning rotting walking carcass. Unfortunately, I'm not as mottledly cool yet, which is unfortunate.

Imran tells me that 3 days is the maximum to take a break from running. Today's the 4th day. Die. If I don't run, I'll turn back into the bedpotato and I'LL START SPROUTING ROOTS AND GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE! Yes I know I amuse people with my utter insanity and sheer hilarity of randomness.

I will begin my project once FIVB is over. Woohoo! Sentosa next week and no office! Although I think I'd still have to bring my laptop along so that I can upload shite and type in nonsense and do work and the like. Look busy ya know.

Gary Jules's cover of Mad World has been on repeat. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had. Sums up my moment.

I don't need anything more than this. End.







P.S Please make plans to meet up with me before I vanish for 3 consecutive weekends. ♥

















FINAL RANDOMNESS COZ IM FUCKING SICK NOW!
Weird guy messaged me on Friendster. LIKE REALLY WEIRD. Wth. Didn't I set it private enough? All you see is my dumbass piggy face.

And I take it back. The new FOB album does not sound like that of a boyband.

utterly stoned

Watching Donnie Darko last night made me think a little about self-sacrifice. The only thing that I can come up with, simply, is that it's also about choice. You already know the outcome of your future, of your actions; so what do you do with the knowledge? I guess in some strange way, what Donnie was pretty admirable.

I used to think it was a dumb show, like hello? Man-sized rabbits for starters? Creepy looking one at that. Then it was just the whole B-grade feeling you get because it's a show that's not been glossed over by Hollywood special effects and rendering.

But that's the beauty of it all. That raw element that's so life-like, so relatable that it pulls you in. At the same time, you feel as if you're watching the show whilst being high on crack.

Still recovering from Saturday's utter embarassment. My back's not so wonky anymore. I had enough chocolate to keep me happy. I want moremoremore. Also, have realised that from this weekend onwards, I am packed. Don't know if its a good thing or a bad thing. The only time I'm going to be free during the weekends is right after I come back from Phuket.

I don't know what to blog about as of late. I've been thinking about how to budget though. If and when I get the fulltime job. I've been contemplating a lot of new purchases as well. Hohoho. And having enough sleep means you look better and not haggard and druggy-like. Did I mention my face got burnt? Yeah. Right upper part of my cheek. Blends well with blemishes. HAHA I'm so funny (in a lame way) that I could kill myself.

How do you explain when your mind and concentration is one blur mass after another. I haven't been able to pay full attention to a lot of things as of late. It's as if everything else around me is screaming for my attention. I'm watching people and it's as if they're liquid, their gestures and movements so deliberately slow. I think it's all just me. I could blame it on fatigue and exhaustion but I question myself, what is it exactly that I've done that's led me there?

The running? The travelling to so many different places because of work? The late-night hangouts? The bare hours of rest? If that's the case then I wouldn't be the only one suffering this. There'd be plenty others in the same predicament and yet, it just seems as if I'm caught in this alternate reality with no clue yet how to get home.

I feel like crawling back into my bed. Concussing for yet another day. I'm so tired and completely unmotivated to do work. But I have to. I lack inspiration. I think I need coffee. Good ol' Starbucks. Hmmm yes. I think I'm going to get me coffee.

therapy

Just a quick one.

Yesterday was embarassing as hell. My whole body aches. Am currently in an extremely bad mood. For a lot of things and for a lot of reasons. My tan, or what was left of it, got fucked again thanks to beach volleyball. Oh yes, I almost fell while turning the kettle off and I concussed the whole day of today before being nagged to get up and shower.

I still feel like concussing. 3 more episodes of Heroes before I'm done. Then there's the whole movie stash I got from Chris's comp. I never knew hibernating could be so therapeutic.