initial reaction to initials

Attention to high school friends, especially Ooi Ee Jane.

I'M BACK.

And free to hang out, at least until next Monday. Was actually back on Friday but was not free to hang out. So I didn't tell. Don't want to make you pine for me too long, you see. Too bad can't meet up with Khai Li and whoever else who went to IPTAs yesterday. Oh well. Always another time.

***

Bloody documents. They're all so ittybittynittygritty and yet so important. Do. Everything. Online. Jeez.

***

While filling one of them ittybitty papers, I realized that my initials in the US are SYT. Which stands for Sweet Young Thing. And can also stand for, horrors, Sexy Young Thing. Die lah. Expectations, my friends, are never good. Imagine you're walking along some road and you stepped on this cool-looking blue digital watch and you turn it around and it says SYT in lovely curly engraving. You turn around looking for someone who looks like their name can be SYT so that you can give the watch back. and maybe get her phone number. Someone taps your back. You turn around. And see me. And I say: Yo. Thanks. That's my watch. SYT. Yeah. Me.

My already-limited social life is now cursed with people lifting their eyebrows discreetly while thinking "SYT?"

Blah. I'll just lift an eyebrow back and say: So You Think. Haha.

Or I can just cave in and BECOME an SYT.

Sarcastic Young Thing

Shouldn't take much effort.

contentment

Many things have happened since the last time I wrote something. Did this, did that, surprised myself, surprised others, let down myself, let down others. But they are all nothing - nothing compared to this one fleeting moment of lucidity. The moment I realize how perfect you are for me.

grarh

Damn pms. I am so tired. Everything irritates me. My left toe hurts. My left eyebrow itches. I can feel my ovaries threatening to cramp. Damn pms. Damn you. I feel so hungry. Fooood foooood. My temper is short. I feel disoriented.

Thank you, lord. For internet. Thank you for Louisa. Thank you for well-engineered bras. Thank you for interesting towel patterns.

The hell. Why am I typing this.

Anyway, to everyone I talked to today, sorry if i sliced a chink off your heart. I hope you won't judge me on one day. Because, ironically, today I happen to talk to more people than I usually do. Which is usually 4. Today I talked to 8. Wow.

Ohkay. Now that my sweat has dried, I can finally sleep and escape from these earthly bonds.

Again, sorry for being a bitch today. I'll make it up to you. Especially to you, Louisa.

weekend at port dickson

Since it was the school holidays and all, my dad decided to drive up to Shah Alam and whisk the family off for a vacation at Port Dickson. Well, not exactly Port Dickson lah. The hotel was at Tanjung Tuan which is about 5 km from Port Dickson. But same lah. I have always been secretly disturbed by the acronym for Port Dickson. It is the same acronym my brother uses for PonDan (transvestites to the more refined). So when my dad called and said "Pack your swimming things. We are taking you to PD." I felt like an unwanted daughter.

The hotel was a 4 on a scale of 10. My small room initially had the stink of socks which thankfully dissipated after a while. No central switch system, so I had to crawl out of my lovely warm blanket nest to turn off the lights before I sleep. Bed was enjoyably bouncy. Bathtub was the standard no-frills kind. My balcony opened to a patch of lawn and the pool. Pool was an ugly shade of bluish-green and too small for my liking. Could barely see 30cm underwater, maybe due to that nasty habit of hotel guests to jump in right after they rolled around on the beach.

The PD (haha) beach wasn't all that great. Sand texture was powdery enough but it was beige, not white. The sea was a dull greyish-green. Probably due to the horrible haze. And the coconut trees were planted, not washed ashore. Gotta have natural coconuts. None of them neat-coconut-trees-in-a-row thing. Those greatly diminish the beachy feel of a beach. Oh, and I witnessed the worst sunset I have ever seen.

As the final rays of the sinking sun sped forth

from the rippling horizon

through the darkening sky

they hit

big

grey

resolutely opaque

clouds of H2O and dust

and fell as ponies

into the sea

Translation: I sat on the beach and looked at the sky for about 2 hours before I realized the goddamn sun set already.

Rant as I may, facilities don't actually matter that much in my beach holidays. Had a great time sipping ice-cold 7up on my deck-chair while watching heat rays beat down on people choking in the pool. Submerged self in lavender bubbles. Tried writing in the sand before realizing my territory was crawling with crabs and ended up filming their miserable pilgrimage to a spot that is, somehow, better. The sand is indeed always beiger on the other side. Played beach volleyball with a Nigerian woman who spoke English to me like I barely left pre-school. She has humongous boobs. That was how I identified her from her other friends. Every time she sends the ball back, I have this irrational urge to check whether she hit the ball or her boobs to me. Shoot me. Also tried riding one of those double bicycles and cleverly grabbed metal fence to stop fall. Blew bubbles with brothers. Kidnapped 3 hermit crabs to torment after spending 5 hours sitting on the beach doing nothing.

A pointless, mellow kind of fun. But I prefer Pangkor.

an annoying post fueled by insomnia

Here's a thought. Abnormal behaviour stems from emotional or psychological problems. People who do drugs are chasing a high so that they can escape their less-than-satisfactory life. People who do kids had traumatic childhoods and wish to ravish the purity they never had. People who do politics have a huge need for societal acceptance. Of course, it's not nice to stereotype. People who do drugs may be happy housewives looking for something to do while waiting for the spaghetti to cook. People who do kids may be the kid's baby sister. People who do politics may really honestly care about making policies that will ease your burden although it may bring huge losses to multinational companies.

Alright you get the idea. And now, since this is my blog, I shall begin talking about myself. Following this train of thought, I can assume that I have a number of emotional/psychological problems.

1) Irregular, non-circadian sleep pattern - May be due to deep dislike for social interaction, hence, sleeping when people are around and staying up when people are asleep. May be due to deep need to rebel, hence the attempt at breaking the commonly-held belief that humans are diurnal. May be due to dislike of sleeping in the same room as divorcee.

2) Tendency to bite lips - May be a reaction to feelings of insecurity and uncertainty. May be a desire to hurt self due to feelings of guilt. May be affinity to the taste of blood.

3) Tendency to mutilate nails - May be a nervous person. May have masochistic tendencies. May be bored out of mind.

I have 3 more, but I'm bored already. Thus ends a pointless try to further understand myself.

***

I can't sleep.

***

Thank you, Charis, for little children. Refuse to capitalize :) Makes social interaction seem all the more futile and complicated.

***

Louisa, stop ogling at your toys and get em already!

***

I really really can't sleep.

***

You know, choosing First Year Seminars makes this little thing called 'going to Brown' seem all the more believable. It's a really good hoax. I mean, they bothered making up all these splendiferous courses just so I believe them. They even have my second favourite poet. Wow.

***

Would it be too creepy to wear my trademark T-shirt when I first meet people?

***

Come to think of it, it would be kinda cool to have a picture of me in that T-shirt for a graduating photo. A graduating photo. In that T-shirt. Framed. In some INTEC officer's room. Nothing seriously wrong, but cooler than if it was just some shirt.

***

Wei Jie's running for ATUSA President. Hmm.

***

The thing about writing so little about so many different issues is that readers don't know what to comment on. Sorry lor.

***

Notice that blog-troll in my chatbox. She/he might be someone very influential, very eloquent, very nice, very rich, very kind, and/or very powerful in real life. But here, she is just an annoying blog-troll who shamelessly tells people to go to her blog so that she can boost her ratings and get more $$$. Very very irritating. The sad attempt at making me like her by saying she LOLed at one of my entries irritates me even more. I'm starting to wonder what the hell is wrong with me and why do I connect with the sense of humour of blog-trolls. Yes, I admit I went to her blog to check whether she's a high school friend or not. Damn. One free view for her. Thank god she isn't or I would have to say I'm friends with a blog-troll.

***

And I don't get why Bugger has to release a royal decree every time he wants to meet people. Can't he just stalk the first floor of the library until we turn up?

***

It's 6am and I still can't sleep. Even reading C++ and Catalog Entries couldn't bore me to unconsciousness. Dammit.

***

Amy's method of getting people to throw away the trash has earned her my awe. She is pure genius. And she does it so effortlessly. Wow.

***

In desperation, I have taken to closing my eyes, scrolling around and clicking at a random spot on the screen to choose my five preferences for my FYS at Brown.

Political Science - Freedom

English - Intro Seminars in Medieval and Early Modern Lits and Cultures

Classics - Herodotus

Sociology - The Hispanic Experience in the United States

Neuroscience - Seing With Sound

Random betul. Unfortunately, terlalu random.

***

I shall proceed to finally have a serious attempt at losing consciousness now. Coo.