Tuesday, March 29, 2005
it is really unfair, how silly bimbotic wannabes and generally muggertoads like her and her and him get their shots at law while those who are seriously considering the profession are denied the chance. my better self is this insistent little know it all holier-than-thou prat who refuses to shut up. in someway she is bitchier than i can ever be- she's adopting this 'i told-you-so' attitude, reminding me that these bimbotic airheads and wannabes deserve their chance. they studied. and i didn't so no chance. so fuck it really what the hell. this has gone beyond my control, the facts are history. i have no fucking idea what to do. and this is driving me up the wall. look i am crying out to you now. i need your help. i need your intervention, i don't know whether i derserve it - alright, i know i don't- but i need You now more than ever, for all those times i've cried out for someone and reached out to air, let this time be contrary.
i need to be given a chance. does anybody understand that?would anybody understand that? Monday, March 28, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
it was one hectic weekend, short of killer crazy because feeling lazy i cancelled all tuition plans on sunday and spent the entire day holed in with the family.
oh needless to say the diet plan fell through. and it is all HIS fault. if he didn't book out so early i wouldn't have something worth celebrating then i wouldn't have insisted on marche and all that jazz. but what can i say? the kgs i put on are probably worth my gorgeous foodfilled weekend. must i go into detail how good deepfried calamari is?or how yummy rosti with cheese sausage is?or how strawberry mango crepe topped with double dashes of chocolate sauce and a huge dollop of tiramisu icecream can only be termed divine?
all this talk about food has got me craving for the coconut icecream with homemade - or so they say but i really don't care - red bean paste at thai express, no matter how weird sarah thinks it is:)
hmmm.well. seems like i'm always alternating between two moods: dreary depression and food fanatical, don't you think?
i better start excercising again! Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
it seems like the only time i can write, is deep into the night, when i am beyond exhaustion, and my body is crying out piteously for the welcoming dark oblivion of sleep.
i have been typing and backspacing for the last five minutes, trying to ignore, besides the writer's block, yet another pitiful call from my body, this time for the welcoming warmth of food. needless to say, i am embarking on a diet plan, doomed to fail, like all the rest.
this place is cold. in some ways, i could be happy here, i could be miserable too, but right now, there is nothing but this bone-deep weariness. i am sick of playing the Game, sorry that this Game, game for me, is reality for these people, and will soon become reality for me in the near future. you know, i could be happy here, and i could be miserable too. it all depends really. if i crush pride beneath my toes and transcend the emotional uproar that comes with losing the Game, i could be happy.
there's an slight, somewhat delicious ache here that reminds me rather insistently how one can be thrice bitten and never shy (pun intended hah). thought i suffered a horrid defeat at the Game last night, though nothing (in every sense of that word) really happened. i have to keep a tighter rein on Conscience, it jumps the gun; i wasted the whole night impaled, rather unneccessarily, on self-denial. anyway, after recouping losses this morning, and discovering i hadn't incurred any, i am back in the Game. every single time something like this happens, i just learn more and more abuot myself, about reading people, about the complexity of life, about the simplicity of life : to just place things in His hands; no matter how much i meddle and dabble in the Game, He is the one who ultimately decides Things. well, there's the slight, somewhat delicious ache here that reminds me insistently about these things.
so quadrice bitten, never shy?i think not. not this time.
desecration on emerald hill
Eleven minutes into the morning
he sat in the sand pit on Emerald
Hill, mansized and shrouded
in shadows, breathing
in the crickets and the
humidity, absorbing the post-
rain dampness into his pants;
the incessant ticking
from his tag (every real man owned one)
irked him------
Where was she?
he didn’t have all day and
precious minutes, seconds were
frittering away.
He had, already, in
his mind had the
consummate orgasm;
planned, in excruciating
detail, his route to devouring the
moistness of her
flushed innocence;
although, admittedly,
he had spent three minutes agonizing over the
merits of his tongue
versus the
deftness of his fingers.
He was, after all,
a musician and his
hands were seasoned and trained
to provide only
pleasure.
Caught up in his erotic desires,
wild and unkempt,
unruly and spectacularly
uncivilized
(for what is man but an
extrinsically refined
beast?)
he felt himself stiffen
like a ramrod
perverseness---
rabid urgency was
mounting in his,
by now gravity defying,
proud monstrosity.
Ah, there she was
tearing up the hill,
her prepubescent legs
striding towards him
in all their spindly glory.
“sorry” she panted,
full face full of guilt
“the damned alarm was on”
“shh darling..it’s perfectly fine,
I just arrived myself”
He was momentarily
stunned by how smoothly the
lie rolled off his tongue
(ah but he had always known
his oral skills were impressive);
and simultaneously
marvelled at her naivety-----
did she honestly think he loved her?
Ha. She was nothing but a fuck and
Dump
His hands, instinctively,
started unbuttoning her
(100% cotton)
nightie
his coarse lips pressed
hard on her gums
now the nymph was
laid bare before him;
his hands, as usual,
had worked fast
(he was continually astounded by
their agility---- must be the
arpeggios);
she was the buffet spread and
he had to play his
part, acting the classic
kiasu Singaporean,
appetite insatiable
poised for attack and
hungry for instant
gratification.
He was ravenous
and he began to eat her
square inch by square inch
of smooth slippery skin-----
oil glands not even matured enough to
secrete the required amount for a
pimple; completely free of
stretch-marks unlike those post-pregnancy cows he had
done
Ah, she smelled like
johnson’s and she was
whimpering softly,
like a newborn kitten
whose eyes are still
stitched tight and
blind to the sun.
her slender fingers gripped his neck,
jagged nails digging into
his erected
jugular.
Stealthily, he entered her,
cooing sweet nothings
(indeed they were senseless nothings,
and they meant just that)
which she drank in with unadulterated delight.
His honeyed, hackneyed
words nauseated him, but
a man has to do what a
man has to do to get what
he wants and
Right now, all he
wanted was for his (precious! superior!)
essence to meet the dank sand.
he thrust deeper into the
shallowness of her
(she was too bony, he thought.
Too bloody underfed);
flesh was always good,
flesh would surround and
choke him, provide the
friction he needed.
If she had more damned flesh
he wouldn’t be taking so
painfully long
(men always sanctify their appendage—
it is flawless and
can do no wrong)
Finally
the spurt came,
a brilliant arch of
viscous translucence;
the girl (all the while busy picturing
the gems on her bridal dress---
she was confident it was only a
matter of time before he proposed)
relieved,
now she could tell him
about her first day of school;
she had very interesting teachers indeed.
she sighed, bliss
overriding her obliviously
used body.
she was fourteen and
madly in love.
he zipped up his
sweat-soaked pants,
now damp with his own.
he was remarkably pleased
with himself
she was his lolita,
and tonight she had been
the nubile medium
through which nirvana had
come-------
the glorious burst into
nothingness during the
infancy of orgasm.
Her head in his lap,
she smiled at him
(a toothy smile—her permanent canine was still
lost in gum somewhere)
smiling at her;
painfully unaware that
he was inwardly congratulating himself on
his biggest accomplishment, for
eleven minutes had been
all it took to
deflower her and
desecrate the virgin temple of
her god
(both delectable and deplorable! Although only the
first one mattered, self-centred
bastard that he was)
Two had become one and
just as rapidly disentangled into
two again.
Eleven minutes:
he was in and out---
wham bam thank you
very much m’dam.
His temporary pleasure,
paid in blood with her
purity and self-
worth.
she was his lolita, his
lifesized Barbie,
obliging his every whim----
“thank you for manhandling me,
please come again”
ha!
He leaned back against a
scaly tree, content at last.
His face shrouded yet
again by the absence of light
(for it was still twilight)
ah, he was the King of Emerald Hill
tonight, and she---
still a girl, barely a woman,
was his tangible
triumph.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
take me away to the place where i always get what i want and do what i like, say what i feel.
the place where the love is real, and i am everything i want to be.
take me away really, any place but here.
oh wait. can i bring my family too? Monday, March 21, 2005
Monday, March 21, 2005
my life's a melee of applications, work, family, friends and lamentations.
i miss you.
You're Lili St. Cyr!
What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla Thursday, March 17, 2005
Thursday, March 17, 2005
apps,lunch,nus app codes,tuition,creditcard,driving licence,dailyworkout,bankloans,work
newskin btw.less scrolling hassle don't you think.whole new paradigm.
i am a naughty girl.
so bite me :) Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
the world's greatest procrastinator of all times has to stand in for the receptionist who's taken the day off due to health reasons. she, the world's greatest procrastinator of all times, is also given the task of doing research for AL and standing in for AT who's also, like the receptionist, unfortunately, not in for the day.
the world's greatest procrastinator is also currently procrastinating, leaving scholarship applications to the very last second, ranting about procrastinating while currently procrastinating.
my thoughts are elusive creatures, it is almost impossible the pin them down. even if i do capture them, it is only for a while. at the slightest bit of inattention, they slip through my fingers like soft sahara sand, and leave me sitting in front of the computer ransacking my mind trying in vain to recapture that thought.
anyway the world's greatest procrastinator of all times is assailed by a sudden bout of conscience, twanging twinges of it coursing through mindspace thundering "work" "work" "work"! capitalised, in bold, font size 985467438 and colour red.
so, to quote a certain uncool somebody: i gotta split!
haha Thursday, March 10, 2005
Thursday, March 10, 2005
suspicion and speculation, for me, comes hand in hand with initial shorterm initmacy.
you don't understand the above? well i don't too, and i was the one who made that up.
i did not exactly make that up, it just sort of popped into my mind actually, when i saw him go out first, then her. then her coming back first, then him.
it should be the farthest thing from my mind, i should be still poring agonisingly over my files, trying to reduce them into excel form so PK would have an easy time when she needs to find something. but NO. the mind is as ditzy as a butterfly, flitting here and there all the time.one thought leads to another, and soon the mind became a boxing ring (a suspicious replica of that layla abdul boxing match i saw last night on Starsports, Boxing Nights), with two HEAVYWEIGHT (note empphasis on HEAVYWEIGHT) boxers (no pun intended haha!) SOLITUDE vs. COMPANY *ding!* fight!
yesyes, i can never understand how one can prefer solitude to company, prefer autarky, to emotional dependency. can never understand how some people can watch movies alone, eat dinner out alone. donot get me wrong, i take pubic transport alone, i shop alone, and in fact adore shopping alone, but i just cannot figureout how someone can do something, that is somehow prefixed in my mind to be done with company, so very alone, and not be bothered by it.
is it the confidence thing? the different character different emotional needs thing?or is it just me? is my world so small that everything is always about me me me and i measure selfworth from how the rest of my world sees me?
frankly i think the rest of the world don't give a onetwo*beep* about who the onetwo*beep* i am for that matter.
so why? why is this post about?
you want to know why?i know why. the reason is i am, well, AFRAID.
afraid that if i start to eat alone, watch movie alone and do things alone and get used to doing things alone, i might never have company again. i might lose my conversational skills, lose my energy, my...people edge vibes, whether it good or bad, from the lack of contact. afraid to live the boring life of jus another faceless entity in the train, and not soar the path of that vibrant socialiate, reshnam melwani-ish spotlight.
there i have said it.
hui if you happen to read this, i have nothing more to say except:
i love you. and please. talk to me more:) Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
it is so much easier to write proper english then speak proper english. when i write i lapse into proper english, grammar flows and i am able to organise my thoughts the way i should: in whole sentences. yet when i speak, i find it difficult to express myself. perhaps i am just self conscious, i feel that my singaporean accent is deemed uncouth and rather primitive by others' standards. i am just the sort who knows how to spell a word, but am not sure how to pronounce it
whatever the reason, i still have to change the way i talk and present myself, or else he is right; i am never going to impress the interviewers, never going to show them otherwise. so from now, till the interviews, provided i do get selected, i am determined that not a single word of singlish would pass my lips. that means no 'lar', no 'man', no 'yarh', and the list goes on.
but i refused to give up my singaporean accent. i am all for proper english, not for emulating the native english speakers' accent.
well, ignore me. i am bored today, and this is a senseless post. i am starved for attention again.
yeah i know we're so different it is hilarious we haven't murdered one another yet:) Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
some men think that getting married to a woman means seeing her in the mornings rather than in the evenings
helen rowland
marriage is a fine instituition. but i am not ready for an instituition.
mae west
two women who staunchly believe in living the life of a bacherlorette, yet with diverse views on marriage. one does not think herself up to the exclusivity of marriage, the other doubts the sanctity of it.
yet they both arrive at the same conclusion: not to tie the knot.
in a way, i'd rather be a mae west than a helen rowland. not to say that i am a helen rowland now, but i do agree with her:
a man snatches the first kiss, pleads for the second, takes the third, accepts the fourth and endures the rest.
there are those privileged, lucky, blissful few that score the gems from the rest of the dirt, but i think for the rest of us, doing a mae west is probably the best way to keep clean and not find ourselves in any situation to be stained and labelled damaged goods for the rest of our lives.
aside, this is trivial frivolity compared to some things in life. especially these some things in my life right now. waiting patiently, and keeping the faith is getting harder day by day. not to mention essays and research, bad omens and nasty conclusions and life changing revelations all bogging me down.
i think i am on a sugar overload this morning, it is no wonder that i am now saddled with a humongous headache; breakfast was bonjour chocolate loaf, a kit kat chunky bar, and wafers with peanuts dripped in honey.
i am going to take a break from thinking.
adieu for a lil while. Monday, March 07, 2005
Monday, March 07, 2005
the aim of life is self development.
to realise our nature perfectly -
that is what each of us is here for.
starting to doubt your own ability is never pleasant, neither is the moment where self realisation crashes and you realise it is too late.
i have arrived at the end, with nothing really to be proud of, not that, not me and definitely not this.
"remember what you said at the end of the o levels?"
that's like a recurring explosion in my mind. i am leaving it in His hands.
yet something is for sure, one will never make the same mistakes twice. Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
what can i say?
it'll be out on friday.
...
