Saturday, November 21, 2009

I havent ever stayed in a hotel so gorgeoulicious before.

JW Mariott has taken the cake, cream and cherry on top, the icing, the fruits and the plastic covering and the box.

Suffice to say:


Phuket is beautiful. There are spectacular, breathtaking beaches, beautiful people, fantastic hotels and the people are unbelievably friendly. The waves are huge and crashing, the locals are funny and silly.

Vacation was, languid. At best. The kind i adore the most. Where you laze around, feeling the slow, comforting brilliance of the holiday, swigging copious amounts of vividly hued barcardi/nite (they obviously dont give a flying heck about your age there) and talking.

The trip there was excruciating. The flights from Budget Terminal are usually painful and they seem loads longer than they are. Worth it all, of course.

The apartment we arrived in had two rooms and an enormous bathroom which we could all have well lived in. And the tub was huge and squarish, like the baths in MTV Cribs and i SWEAR all 10 of us could have fit into it. It was rockin.

Everything in the hotels were branded with turtle-ish things. The mart was Turtle Mart, the free beach balls had little turtles inside. Turtle maniaaaa.

(we found out aft abit that the beach was supposedly a nature reserve. turtles came up the shore to have little turtles during the mating season- which we missed rawr)

The bestest part was the sunset, which blew everything we'd seen (even the masses of trannys in Mai Cau Beach) out of the water. All of us were rendered speechless for a few moments. It was those special moments where words were just so lacking. We sat sprawled on the beach, watching the sky become drenched in red, for a long, long time. Its was like time had frozen just for a little while.

Got to know Quan a little better, sunsets really do open people up (:

Now the days seem to mesh into each other. Cant seem to remember which day was which anymore. This does happens alot.

We went cycling though, on the second day, i should think. It wasnt just cycling, it was butt cramping ass kicking root obstacled hole and trenches riddled cycling. My mom couldnt make it past the rubber plantation, but other than that, it was relatively uneventful other than my sisters fall, which was probably my fault. But lets leave the past in the past.

There was the large transparent ball which Heng and Quanie fell in. Many times. The one where you can technically walk on water, except you at the same time get boiled alive, so says the bings. They were like hamsters, running around fruitlessly, falling and slipping and smaking themseleves on the surface of the ball. It was most fun to watch.

Most of all, i kinda remember the Taboo. Which is probably a very silly thing to remember because you can play Taboo anywhere, in the bathroom, at home, at BBQs, wherever. But shoot me.

Bing was really swell at being the Asker. We kinda tweaked the game and Bing just sat there and did a smashing job of doing rapidfire Asking and the three of us would guess.

It was crazy, silly fun.

I remember the muay thai (where we totally screwed with the equipment) and darts and swimming and wave jumping and the jellyfish. I remember the cafe we ate in 4 times. IN A ROW.

But most of all i remember that it was really nice to get to know your friends a little better.

Buying prom dress was really fun. We scampered all over singapore to find the perfect outfit then we crashed at Caras and watched BRING IT ON into the night, after a dress up session ((:

Prom marked the Leaving of Secondary Schooldom, which is indeed a rather joyous occasion. I have not begun to miss school. I might take a while.

I did my makeup and MAC because my mom bought some products so i got a free makeover. I looked rather ghastly, to tell the truth. Makeup is so redundant X/ After a failure of a performance consisting of You Raise Me Up and a song our class could not get right, we ate some yummu food, and then it was photo after photo and there. Nothing fantastic. I would descibe it as Enjoyably Anti-Climatic.

The Hotel Room though, was fun.

We partayed in the hotel and outside except i think i when i become tipsy i fall straight to sleep and miss all the action. Which sucks. Me and Loo had a dance off BEFORE we had all the bacardi and vodka and we were already drunk on OURSELVES. I hadnt even drunk anything yet and we were rubbishing around ouside Raffles City. It was AWESOME.

Then we went back to the room and Ser brought some vodka to mix with green tea and sprite but i was OUT AFTER TWO CUPS. Call me Lights Out Amanda .

After we came back there was SPORTS DAY


Our team Weiting Loo and Mabes me totally owned the relay, (for the first time in four years we beat GREEN holy) and yellow completely made a sexy sweep of most of the first places.


The Dog Days

( If you recognise this and you DO NOT HAVE A YOUNGER SIBLING, respect, i say. Respect.)
Ironically, i was at Puppy Debbie darling 's hosue that i learnt to like dogs.

She forced me to let her dog SNIFF MY FEET as i stood, trembling in trepidation, frozen with fear, my blood running cold.

My aunty, her siblings and her laughed at my feeble attempts to get over my phobia as i had stood on the top of the stairs where Waffles, the dog, couldnt get me.

After mustering up ALL the courage i possessed, i managed to not flinch and RUN AWAY SCREAMING when waffles approached me. And bent down. AND SNIFFED ME.

I nearly died of a heart failure.

But then i was over it in a flash and i started to become strangely attatched to Waffles who seemed to have lost all intrest in me after a minute of sniffing my feet. He ignored me. I hoped this wasnt a sign of how my future relationships would play out.

Sleepover at Puppys was BRILLIANT. We played Rock Band/Rock Hero (i can never see the difference) and sang YO I TELL YOU WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT till we went hoarse . Serene and Eldea were the epicest singers in the ENTIRE WORLD. It was sweeeet.


Fam Camp at Batam was surprisingly fun. Cause i met the cutest little 5 year old girl alive called Becky. I want to eat her up. She is so overly adorable. It shouldnt be allowed.

Becky Quote: "Because i dont want anyone to be jealous"
-On why she always made it a point to hug everyone, and not leave anyone out.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

I cannot decide if i like Adam Gregory better or

I choose both.

I swear, this is what major examinations does to me. I go slighty crazy from the lack of social interaction, the excessive staring at pictures of the human anatomy and the chemical formulas.

O Levels is officially dead from tomorrow. I totally know how Weiqing feels. The entire holiday is gonna be a WorryFest. I promise you, i can count the number of careless mistakes i made ONE BY ONE and i can shove in into my own face and bawl about it. I can obsess about the stupid mistakes i made and the dumb Rformula i DID NOT LEARN but i shant do that.
I can extract every single error and tear myself up but yknow what.

There has totally got to be more to life than this.

I think im gonna get over myself and ITS GONNA BE A PARTAYE IN THE PHUKETAYE.


The awesomest thing about Phuket is how everyone pronounces it funny and it makes hilarious conversation topic.

At Home

Markie: Eh eh eh jie what are we doing in pui-keet

Me: (peals of laughter)

Meimei: Pui-keet!!

Grandpapa: Its Bhu-kit, boy.

Me:(peals of laughter)

Meimei: BHU-KIT!!

At school

Me: Im going to Phuket on the 14th, baby!

Weiqing: No no, its Foo-Ket.

Me: No, its PHU-KET.

Weiqing: Yeah right. Then why do they say PHone? HUH? Its obviously Foo-Ket.

Although i totally believe its Phuket. As in (POO-KET)
What make me right though?

Maybe it is Foo-Ket. Even if it does sound awful.

I need to go and run and do some chemistry for the last paper tomorrow. Cant seem to sign on to Stomp's Campus Talkback cause my commmies totally banking. Nat says it an awesome place to visualise a hazy grading curve cause people go there to comment on the papers.

I do actually think its a rather long shot. The people who are gonna be at the most voluptuous part of the curve probably wont spend their precious hours on Stomp.

Neither, will they spend their time imagining about Phuket and shopping and sleepovahs and watching Ty kiss Annie in 90210 and sweeping the internet for pictures of Josh Duhamel.

But whatever.

Im reading Eternity Is Temporary by Bill Broady and it is probably the RETROEST, INDIE-EST, VINGATEY, COOLEST BOOK EVER.

And to think i stumbled upon it BY CHANCE at the Pansing Warehose sale. (which was kinda cool, the food was really good. i ate and ate and ate. though i couldnt find Gereld Durrell or Neil Gaiman but the food plus the unexpectedly spectacular book by Broady made it all better)

Monica Yeeyee brought me cause shes the buyer for Kino and shes all chummy with the insiders of the Book World and she moves around in their social circles.

She gets all these exclusive invites to warehouse sales where everythings all cheap and GUESS WHO GETS TO TAG ALONG?

(That was rhetorical. I just want to rub it in.)

So anyway tomorrow is Liberation Day and i cannot WAIT.


Saturday, November 07, 2009


Hey hey looky ! Once again i've done my old trick of, not only blogging when i dont have TIME to be blogging (or searching perversely and obsessively for pictures of what is probably the cutest football player of all time at any rate), oh no, but also not working on the thing that i should OBVIOUSLY be working on.

You officially have to have a special kind of skill to be as rubbish as i am.

Oh, count the freckles. One, two.. cute.. cant
make.. it.. floppy.. hair.. eyes..

Mm. Cutesy beachshorts

Rawr. Tatoooo boy.

My eyes are getting blistered. Notice the subtle hitch of the shirt.
And the careful turn of his head.

It fantabulousgorgeousness.

Does this not say Sacha Baron Cohen?

Yes yes, it does.

He is disturbingly, devashatinggly, dashingly, distracting.
Marriedly so, though.
The hot ones almost always are.
Married or gay. Or homosexual or transexual.
Quote of day:
I believe that if you keep hurling crap at the environment, sooner or later it's going to throw something back.
Dr Ng

Saturday, October 31, 2009

What Is The Point

What I have so realised is that it is during bus rides that things strike me the hardest.

I should write a book examining the relationship between Revelations and Bus Rides and call it Revolutionary Ride Revelations.

But i digress.

On the bus home from Novena i was thinking What Is The Point.

Of breathing of talking of loving of being rich of being poor of planting of living of dying of reproducing of animals of insects of football of homework of exams of university of tennis of sports of Presidents of being a freaking developed country with people involved in primary or tertiary or secondary sectors of technology of globalisation; of anything at all.

Of Social Studies of Democracy of Autocracy of Meritocracy of Communism of war of peace of Shakespere of tangents of cosecants of esterification of chemistry of working or money of beaches of beauty of marriage of Biology of Meiosis and functions of the liver and of the stomach and of the cerebellum and the nervous system and of sunsets and of time.

What Is The Point of all this?

I suddenly couldnt answer myself and i got increasingly frustrated.

I turned to the Bible. Of all the painstakingly memorised verses from the years of catechism class and bible quizzes only Ecclesiastes came to mind.

And let me tell you, he goes on and on about how Everything Is Meaningless.

In fact Ecclesiastes 1:2 goes something like:

"Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the teachers. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.

Brilliance, i thought.

I could hear a couple chattering away shamelessly about Jen-somthing who was so very scandalous and Ben-something who was even worse. I tried to block them out but they were being extremely loud.

This made me very annoyed. Could they NOT talk about these insignificant things, and about Ben-whatever and Fan-whatever when here i was, trying my best to make sense of the utterly nonsensical world?

I thought harder.
I thought about how there had to be people who felt the same way as me, and i was rather comforted by that thought. I probably wasnt the only crazy one.

There has to be a religion, a band of people who believe that the World Is Meaningless and There Is No Point. I could research on it right now, but i shant because i am supposed to be studying.

I think they are called Atheists.

My musings were interrupted by a Beautiful Man who had boarded the bus.

Now a Beautiful Man differs, if only slightly, from a Sexy Male and a Hot Boy and a Marry Man.

A Beautiful Man is a man who is no doubt the most handsome and delicious man in the whole entire universe. One does not find a Beautiful Man just anywhere, and when you do, it is a rarity and a sight to behold.

This particular Beautiful Man had a tatch of brownish black hair and was painfully goodlooking. All the men in the bus cowered in sheer insignificance when his glorious self graced us with his presence. He had on a white, striped shirt, complete with cuffs and all.

And these cute brown pants.

In his hand he held a black breifcase, which contrasted heavily with his light skin tone.

He was probably around his twenties and this i could tell, entirely from his side view. (which was breathtaking btw)

He was British. And i love the British because they have awfully pretty accents.

Not that i was staring, but i mean everyone was. So whatever.

And then it was like a glimmering ray of white light had shone down in front on me. I understood now! The Point of Life, was most obviously, Beautiful Men. I rejoiced in my discovery for brief moments before i shook myself out of the stupor of Hedonism.

Of course that was only a temporary lapse in judgement. Yknow. Blinded by the Beauty.

(Eurghh i am so shallow sometimes)

Then i thought about how if i didnt get my Geog right i wouldnt do well for my Olevels next week and NO BODY would care if i kept chanting What Is The Point and being relentlessly struck by useless and completely random thoughts.

Sometimes i think my head is abit screwed up and nothing LINKS in there. Everything is a mass exodus of rapidly moving Wild Things covered in soap so I cant grasp anything for more than 2 seconds.

And if I do it slips out of my hand and melts into the confusion.

I am SO confusing.

Trying to elucidate things only makes me even more confused. Nothing is ever resolved.

Like how no one gets how Britian's NHS system is obviously a little bit Communisty and how LKY is a meanie. (And that RHYMES. I mean seriously. How convincing am I.)

Yeah i know he rocks because he seriously had the glorious forsight and the fantastical intelligence which made Singapore what it is today, but that doesnt change the fact that he is a meanie.

I wish O Levels would be over soon and my brain will be filled with Non Academic Things like sunglasses and big nice Summer hats and Prom Dresses and Phuket with the Bings and KotaK and Dresses and Surfing and French and Fun Things and History Boys and Bowling and Tennis and inane thing like my revelations which i would have the time to research exhaustively on.

OLevels is SUCH a time hogger.

Plus i wont have to ridiculously mug for Sciences and Humanites on Halloween when every single party place in Singapore is gonna be heated up by masses in cool costumes and my sister is going TrickorTreating and my brother is wandering around in Blissful Aimlessness, trying to sign up for Maplestory.

I know. I am so hypocritical sometimes.

I mean what is Van-something and Dan-whatever's scandalousness to my brainless and utterly insignificant thoughts?

Alright you little couple, go on talking about Panny and Danny if it makes you happy.

And this is me, signing off as i dive into my illuminating textbook of Earth Our Home, a Geography Elective.


-Augustanaaaaa <33

Thursday, September 24, 2009

When You're Sixteen

I've just turned 16.
I must say, being 16 is highly anti-climatic.

Everyone in the house is asleep and im listening to my own click-clacking of the keyboard, it sounds so pretty Especially when it's quiet, i reckon.

I think blogger got fixed somewhere along the way, just when i was deciding to switch to LiveJournal. It's awesome there how you can tell people how you're feeling with all those retarded emoticons.

And the cool icons! Livejournal is SEXIER THAN YOU, BLOGGER.

I miss blogging. I cannot think why i stopped for so long. I must keep going, this is so liberating.

16 is a pretty wicked age to be, actually. But i dont feel much difference, unless you count that i suddenly acquired temporary double-eyelids. Its actually the most exciting thing to wake up and have your eyes all pretty staring back at you. But they didnt pop out at 12am, they came visiting 5 days ago and havent left since. Im hoping they take up permanent residence.

My retarded, lovely parents switched off my study lights while i was busy replying Terry's birthday msg and doing my math paper (is something wrong with me? is is normal to be doing math papers when you turn 16? i dont know) and brought a beautiful candle into my room.

I blew it out as they wished me a Happy Sweet 16th.

Mom: Hello darling, happy birthday!
Me: Ehm, you guys, thats so sweet!

(upon turning on the lights, i discover that they have given me a pretty pink box)

Mom: Yeah but i want it back.
Me: The present?
Dad: No, silly, the box.

Heh. I love my mama. They gave me this ridiculously adorable card from Ivans or sommat like that and wrapped 2 50 sing dollar notes up and 2 US 50dollar notes. IN FREAKING CLEAR WRAP.

Like the kind we use to wrap books. It was all very surreal. My parents are reeeetarded.

And the card ended somthing like : And heres two 50 US dollars for you to use (and i thought DAMN WE'RE GOING TO USA THIS YEAR SHEEEEEEEEEET)... WHEN WE GO.. SOON.

XD But it was so awfully sweet of them. My parents are the bestest parents ever.

I cannot believe im sixteen still.

Its rather disturbing.

Im also tryna lose some weight, but if theres one thing you must do if you want to lose weight is NOT BE ME.

Because i cannot lose weight. Its either my aunty cooks food which is too yummy to resist, or my moma buys PercyPig from Marks and Spencer and HOHO it goes in a flash (because PercyPig is my Achilles heel, dammit), or i break and eat all the cake thats been going around.

WATAAR did the craziest things on Mon. We had PKLS and Ms Eu bought a PINIATA (!!!!!) and i couldnt for the life of me destroy with the broom stick i was offered to liberate the sweets so Gav the Man karate chopped it for me.

It was so funny i nearly choked on my own spittle and died right there.

And we had awesome cake with choco eggs on the top and everything.

My neck is hurting something awful now.
I think its because im becoming very old. 16 !!!

Im so old, i can hear my bones creaking.

Or maybe its because im typing this while im slouched in bed in a very bad position which would have those posture-freaks like going nuts.


I decided held enough significance to be recorded here, in my trustly ole blog, soon to become obsolete in the Ever-TwitBooking world.

Its 12.53 now.
I cant even feel my neck anymore. Its gone numb.

I reckon its a sign.
Goodnightzxzxz Im going to Where The Wild Things Are.


Thursday, September 10, 2009

Life is not about trying to fit into shorts
but finding shorts that fit.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009


My posting window is getting weireder and weirder (STILL think WIERD looks more weird than WEIRD- but for the sake of english, and pride.) by the day.

Now everything is flush left and i cant (again) change my font.

But whatever.

500 Days of Summer is coming out ON MY BIRTHDAY MY BIRTHDAY MY BIRTDHAY and i think its a sign. That i must watch it. And its such a brilliant movie! Joseph Gordon-Levitt is not the only attraction, (AND WHAT AN ATTRACTION), there is Zooey Deschanel who acted in Yes Man, and the script is so scintillating and original. Its like a breath of fresh air, sweet and delightful.

THEN THERE IS SEXY SACHA, who i love to tiny tiny tiny little bits because he is the funniest shit alive.

I must watch Bruno too. It is imperative.

Good movies have this annoying habit of poping up when i cannot watch them.

Chinese results were a terribly large shock(:
But good shock.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

Upsides of Being Intelligent

I dont know why my crazy computer cannot seem to open the posting window effectively. All im getting is a box, whcih annoys me greatly because i can neither change this awful font style, or this miniscule font size.

I was reading the my Engish Literature Forum (since when has school been so interesting, man) and damn, Forums are the brilliantest things. I swear. Especially when brilliant people start to discuss the most banal things and make it seem outrageously interesting. (Basically when i say people i mean Renyue and Nicks and Xin Yi)


I can see where these people are going, already.

Unless, of course, they are gifted in the Sciences on top of the Arts, and then all i can say to that is Life Is Unfair (which is a rather stupid thing to say, because we already all know it's true AND there is nothing anyone can do about it. If there was, life was be boring anyway. Everyone would either be across-the-board beautiful or across-the-board ugly.

Arcoss-the-board beautiful might sound mighty awesome, but only because we fail to see that beautiful would not be deemed beautiful if everyone were beautiful. If you get my drift.

Then beautiful and ugly and stupid and smart would cease to have a meaning simply because there would be no more distinction between them. Life would be like a piece of white paper.

Blank and stark and eeriely unreal. But then i digress)

1. Smart people are respected. See: Barack Obama. (First Black President Of Free World And Noone Gives a Shit That You Share a Middle Name With A Terrorizing Madman)
Michelle Obama (First Lady. Damn Fashion Statement)
Einstein (Dude. He lived how long ago? And we still know who he is?)
Ali G (You can insult all and sundry and people still LIKE you if you're brilliant, funny and you graduate from Oxbridge)
Nicky Ren Yue Xin Yi (see: me, nearly drooling in awe of their coherence and scintillating-ness. Enough said)

2. Smart people go to Zouk and get so stoned they cant even see, and then the next day study for an hour and get results so brilliant you darent even imgaine getting. (This happens. It does. Its unfair, but i shant go into the Life Is Unfair But Too Damn Bad rant again)

3. Smart people get married to smart people and produce smart little babies who boost economy and make country flourish. (Ask LKY. He totally would back me up)

4. Smart people are generally rich. (Need i provide examples? Just one word would suffice: Gates. SAT score? 1590 out of 6000. IQ? 170. Proven.)

5. Smart people change the world because people LISTEN to smart people. (Ghandi, Martin Luther- both, Mother Teresa- dont give me a incredulous face, she HAD to be smart, all those people skills and handling matters and having home after home under your care, Emma Watson- DARE YOU SAY HP DID NOT CHANGE THE WORLD, ectect)


But then again, i dont let it bother me too much.
I value happiness and contentment more than i value intelligence. (Or rather, i try)

God has a plan, anyway.
Maybe what he wants me to do requires somthing other than acuity.

Yes, it must be.
God makes everything better, he really does.

Which for some uncomprehendable reason is making extremely excited.

I am so proud of Singapore, i can barely contain it. Its home indeed. I think my loss of voice from Singing What Do You See and screaming yesterday proves my undying loyalty to my HOME LAND.

Singpapore is indeed fantastic place. Where else would you find people like Hossan Leong and Phua Chu Kang and National Day Videos with men walking down dark roads?

Where else would you be subjected to Sars and MRT RESPECT raps and where else can you choose to eat Indian, Malay, Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean or Japanese food all in the same place?

Where else do you shout KOPI TEH is your best gangsta accent and then sit down to say (primly, of course) 'Oh, im famished! Cant wait to tuck into the scrumptious food!'

No where else, really.

Singapore is one of a kind, it is.


Also, this blog is the awesomest. ('Pologize. I cannot seem to add the hyperlink, damn my computer. Or Whatever)

It really is.

Nat finished reading the post all the way to well, wayyyy many years ago. I admit i havent really read them all yet, but those that i have, havent disappointed.

Basically this guy write poignant one liners (which are rather emotional and drenched in a heavy atmosphere, but altogther very exquisite. And worth the time) about photos sent to him by an unknown penpal who travels all over the globe.

Its all really interesting.

And talking about beautiful, lets not forget the BEST SONG I'VE EVER HEARD. And this is Honestly Not A Superlative.
Cross my heart. (just like the Carl Fred-somthing from Pixar's Up, my heart crosses are violently and extraordinarily steadfast)

Its an amazing song.

I cant even describe it. The tune makes it seem all so surreal.

The first line will cut you so deep, it becomes imperative that you listen to it over and over again, and learn the lyrics off by heart, and sing it in the bathroom, to your mother, and tell all your contemporaries about it. Its so brilliantly and remarkably PASSIONATE. I cannot even begin to stress how much i love it. Perhaps even more than Kaka. (Oh no what am i saying!) Less than i love Emma Watson and the History Boys and Adam Lambert and Artemis Fowl, though, but the extent of how much i love them is off the charts, so we dont compare. (Reckon i should stop upping the expectations, or im going to seem unreliable)

Here goes.

Vanilla Twilight by Owl City.


Friday, July 03, 2009

"Flying is easy. Just aim for the ground and miss"(:

Geez, i so miss prattling on and on about absoluetly nothing in here. The sense of release and sheer comfort of just clicking on the keyboard makes me feel so happy.

This might be attibuted of the fact that either, im going mad and crazy, or that i am starting to find joy in the strangest, and slightest things.

I am now a full fledged Catholic, because i just had my confirmation, which brilliant. I asked for Fortitude, because i need it rather badly. The Arch Bishop touched my face and now i am officially Amanda Joelle Lee, which is SO DARN SEXY.

I mean seriously


That means God is My Oath. I think Oath is a solid word (like its made of granite, concrete and some superstong glue), and my life requires some solidity. Im too flaccid sometimes, and its awful.

Being 16 is so strange.

I cant decide whether i like it or not.

Sometimes im so content with being Amanda the one who runs around singing and is happy most of the time, but somtimes i wanna be someone like Emma Watson.

And sometimes i think, why cant i be more cool, and cynical and questioning?

MAN why cant i be disillusioned, detatched and sexy?

Or why cant i remember to put the register back in the drawer?

Or why do i forget people's birthdays so often?



Then i pull a face in the mirror and think about how life in general is rather unfair.

But then its easy to bounce back.

It takes me less then 10 minutes, because thats the maximum i allow myself to wallow in shallow, stupid selfpity before we move on.


Thats how one bounces back. Its a trick to life, mostly you focus on what you have rather than what you dont have and there's this pretty glow that starts to grow in your heart.

School is being anal and the gaps between tests are becoming progregressively shorter. Im so glad that Pups and HC and Dionne and Dawn and Natnat and Nicky and Bobbles and Vanes and Cleo and everyone who makes me laugh are in my class.

If we're gonna make it through this, we'll make it through together. Whatever it is. Whether we have to crawl and wrestle or gnaw our ways to our goals with our teeth and nails, we will.

We will swear (mostly Bobbles- oh and Dionee) and sweat and shout and get fevers and make stupid lame shitty jokes and become depressed and mad TOGETHER.

And i learnt something valuable yesterday from the papers. NEVER use simple words when we can use bombastic ones when you are out to impress.

ie, instead of 'lengthened rebellion', one says 'protracted insurgencies'.

or instead of 'stupid', 'FATUOUS'.

instead of 'logic', say 'syllogism',

and instead of 'self absorbtion', 'solipsistic'.

Aim not to be understood. It is imperative that readers use a dictionary to dredge out the merest drift of your article.

Only then, have you suceeded. Plus, it lends one a kind of underserved brilliance.

Or people just get really really annoyed and use your articles as fish wrap.



The craziest people graduate from Oxbridge. ( I REALLY THOUGHT THEY WERE IVY LEAGUE. )
Its brilliant.

Ali G (Sacha Boren Cohen) is from Cambridge.
Mr Bean (Rowan Atkinson) is from Oxford.


The guy who said : 'Fings like 'apple' and oranges' dont start with da capital letter unless they start a sentance' at the Harvard Class Day lesson. (He wanted to 'drop some knowledge' see, to the Harvard students and graduating seniors saying 'you is the most cleverest students in America')

Dude he is the crudest dumbest FUNNIEST shit on earth.
I cant believe he came from Cambridge.

Its madness.
I dont even believe it.

And then something else happens. And its even more implausible than Ali G (who wants to give away an once of hash as the prize for Who Wants To Win An Ounce of Hash) coming from Cambridge.

And that would be the wonder that is Inez.
Sports, is ruthless, harsh and ugly.
Sports evaluates, extricates and discriminates.
Sports is buckets of sweat, years of pushing limits and excruciating, mind blowing pain.

But sports is beautiful, rythmic and intoxicating.

Sports is raw and fresh and magnificent.

Sports, is talent upon hardwork upon tears upon fears.

Sports is also losing with grace (even if your insides are twisting and contorting in disappointment) and winning in ecstacy.

And when you see her run across the finishing line (even on the TV of goodness sake) its breathtaking, and ecstacy, is a gross understatement.

Its breathtaking and all the more beautiful, because, you see, all the pains and efforts she went through to get herself there.

You see her tears, her sweat, her silent and grim determination. You see the toil, the struggle and the unwavering commitment behind the win that she makes for Singapore.

You can see the countless prayers, the many breaths held, Coach, and everyone else who barely dare to blink.

A 100m hurdles race is a quick one. Inez did it with that beautiful gusto and steely purposefulness. She caught up with her competitors with a flourish, and raced to a awe-inspiring 3rd place.

I twitched with amazement as i blinked daftly at the computer screen.

Then i proceeded to press the playback two hundred and free zillion whatever four hundred and ninety six thousand four hundred and then a one (ALIG FTW) times.

Whatever it is, she deserves everything she has coming for her. She won this medal for Singapore with her sheer grit and perserverance.


Thanks for being a mighty inspiration.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


I've always imagined Ego to be a bright red colour, only because its showy and loud, rather like red.

Today is one of those days that i am thinking loads of thing and the things im thinking keep on slipping away before i can make them out.

So im going to this quick.

First of all i think
The internet is an extremely good place for people to expand their egos. For one, blogging is so pompous mainly because we can go on and on about what we do and think and feel and assume the world is interested.

Then the advent of Twitter and the pervasiveness of Facebook (which has such a wide age spread, i have a 6 year old kid and a 58 year old guy on my friend's list) has lead to even more self absorb-ish-ness.

So who really cares about what Ashton Kutcher thinks, and does and feels when he's taking a bath?

Oh wait.
Make that 2 million people.

Which in turn makes everyone feel like doing the same thing.

Its brilliant, really. We're really all gonna become so in love with ourselves.

Then i also think im becoming 3 things.
1. Crazy
2. OCD
3. T-Rex

Crazy because its one thing to run 10 rounds around the track in school, but a whole different thing to run around barefooted, wildly slinging a pair of converse shoes whilst decked in jeans.

Its a whole different thing altogther.

Especially when you're not very sure of the way home, and it'll probably take you more than 30 min but you heard someone say that it was possible to walk home.

So You Try.

In the meanwhile, you wonder if you are wasting your time. So you start to do a little jog, except the bag with your (all time fav Alen Bennett -The Uncommon Reader) books juggling inside, and your blistering feet, you decide its rather exhausting.

You make off to sling the shoes across your neck and pull your harverack tightly to your back.

Then you run.
All the way home, all the time unsure if its the right way.

The stares you recieve are priceless.

And when you finally get home, sweating, panting and dirty, its all worth it.

Liberating, even.

Which i think brings me back to the part of me becoming crazy.

OCD because it i've been starting to list things, and they say when you list things its the first signs of Obsessive Compulsive, one of the milder sorts.

Not that it really bothers me.

And T Rex because i've stopped eating rice almost completely. I dont know why. Its like a break from carbo, because i've stopped running. Which allows me all this carbohydrate reserves which need no refilling.

And i ate so much meat for dinner i felt largely like a dinosaur. It was rather disturbing.

And then i also dub Bob and green Blob as a favourite cartoon character because he has no brain, but he rocks.

And Cougars are cool because i totally fell in love with a Nick Quah Lookalike Only So Much Better Looking .

And to quote Weiqing

He was unbearably handsome, for a 6 year old.
All quite disconcerting.



Saturday, June 13, 2009

Razor TV makes me rather nauseous.

I sincerely hope, that if ever i should appear on video, i would never ever sound like that.

Second thoughts, it makes hilarious viewing.

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

FEDERER, and Being Almost 16

Oh. OHohoh.

Words mean nothing now, because everyone who actually reads the papers probably already know. Already read. Already feel his brilliance.


Sports is so unpredictable, who knew Nadal No 1 In The Whole World wouldnt make it into the finals? WHO KNEW THE FEDERER WHO LINGERS IN OUR HEART AS THE CUTELY GIRLISH TENNIS STAR WOULD WIN HIS FIRST FRENCH OPEN?

Who would have thought? (:

Oh *gasp* Federer.
Im so proud of you.

Oh, the happiness, the joy.

*Spins and twirls in euPHOria (courtesy of Vanes) for a while*


Another phenomenon has grabbed the youth population. From High School Musical, to Vampires With Beautiful Eyes That Go 'SAY IT', to the strange Hannah Montana Dance.

Keep seeing people Popping It and Locking It and its slightly crazy.

Just for the record, my very own sister is boucing along to the song, happily Countryfing It, and hahaha Jia En spent her time in front of the computer learning it.

And Nat knows it, and Mun Foong, and get this HUAI CHYN. (YAY SEE) Damn, thats like almost everyone.


Its all madness. (S'not as easy as it looks either. The movie is real misleading.)

Plus, I realise im almost 16, now.

And it quite scares me. I reckon its because i do not FEEL like a 16 year old at all. Its all quite surreal, and creepy.

Its feels sort of like, i have to find myself soon because im growing up too fast for myself. Its confusing me.

But then again, im confused by loads of thing.

Life in general confuses me.
Why we even exsist confuses me.

Why we spend out years studying about the Sine and Tangent and THEN add COs infront of everything and learn those as well confuses me.

Why we mug our brains out learning things that we will forget completely once we finish school confuses me.

Why some people are just so brilliantly intelligent and some people are just never good enough confuses me.

Why some people are beautiful, and some just unpleasant looking confuses me.

How much happiness means in a person's life confuses me.

What we live for (Is it to make others smile? Is it to enjoy oneself, and merely cruise through life? Is it to make the best of your talents? Then what of it? Is it to be as happy as you can be? Is it to achieve something? Is it to meet your soulmate? It is to reproduce and populate?), confuses me.

How much we should trust our own decisions and how far unconditional obedience to our parents stretches confuses me.

Independance, confuses me.

The inequality of life confuses me.

Being confused about everything confuses me as well.

Life is confusing, a huge paradoxical enigma.
The absurd perplexities we encounter, its not gonna end.

Then i think, maybe thats what we live for. And finally we go right down to the roots of all the ambuguity and anarchy of life, and find God.

And then i remember that life is perhaps worth living after all.

"Tried to be perfect

But nothing was worth it

I don’t believe it makes me real"

-Pieces. Sum 41
(I think this song is brilliant. Nat sent it to me, and i love it)

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Hello Mr Caramel Corn

My days have been continuously exciting

First i get scared by these whackos (namely Joshua) who decided to wear this mask and jump out at me from behind the wall.

And i tell you the mask is so darn disgusting looking you would pee in your pant and break out into cold sweat if you see it at night and start hyperventilating.

Ah. Screw cold sweat, you'll probably just scream till you pass out.


And then Mah Mah is ill, and thats not very exciting. Its just all very sad and solemn and surreal.

Also, i read Emma and thats quite exhilarating because its a classic which makes me feel immensely intellectual compared to those usual trashy romance novels or Artemis Fowl (OH MARRY ME) or Calvin and Hobbes.

And plus Dawn says the world is going to end in 2012. Which is particularly interesting, really. Armageddon, and we get to be in it. Tell me thats not cool.

Not that i really mind, who needs to live that long anyway? Except i really want to get married first. I think it's awfully nice to have someone for you there forever and ever. Then again, maybe im just a hopeless romantic.

Its funny how we speculate about how our futures gonna be like.

Can you imagine if we could travel in time and all we see in 10 is a rushing mass of nothingness? Like the black hole, only it's engulfed everything else on earth.


Life is a little rushed, and sometimes i feel a little caught up in it all. Just like Mr Mas Selamat. Caught.

Only im not a crazy (albeit brilliant) terrorist on the run who lived in an abandoned house for 13 months selling Rumbly Burgers.


Gosh, im so punny.

And if Artemis Fowl is ever made a movie, they can't put Robert Pattinson OR Zac Efron as the male lead or else, HEADS ARE GOING TO ROLL. ROLL I TELL YOU ROLLL.


Spoil my childhood like that and SOMEONES GOING TO PAY, DAMMIT. Artemis Fowl is one of the biggest piece of arts ever, and i just adore, relish, revel in it's coolness.

No one beat Arty in his coolness.

I dont think anyone can play Arty, for one. He should remain a fictional character forever. But movies are inevitable, and i know how irresistible Arty is. SO IF EVER, and they cast some chickflick flake boy, i will be so pissed i will I WILL WILL. WELL.


Oh Arty thou art love thee.

I think Dominic Cooper should play him (only cause he did the cocky-intelligent-sexy boy part very well in History Boys) but he's too old.

I dont know.
I'd rather he remain my fantasy boy.

Caramel corn FTW.

Saturday, May 02, 2009

House Captains And Other Things

When they said AMANDA i thought i was gonna pass out, because in my head i was all ready to grin like the prop i was say CONGRATALATIONS CATHLEEN/NAT. And be glad for them.

I had it played out.
It was perfect and nice and comfortable.

It had never, ever, ever, in a million thousand gazillionie bazzillionie years struck me that people would trust me with such a fantastically huge responsiblity of being a HOUSE CAPTAIN.

Might sound rightly insignificant, but to me its so big and looming and encompassing and challenging and something close to miraculously crazy.

It made me wanna cry and wanna scream THANK YOU FOR HAVING FAITH IN ME and then yelling BUT DAMN YOU SHOULDNT HAVE, all at the same time.

Trust me, the feeling sucks so bad, i ended up having this half-crazed-shocked-eye-opened look for a few seconds before violently crossing my arms to reject it.

Over and over again.
And over and over and over again.

Then Dionne and me talked and talked and talked for the longest time because she was voted house Blue House Captain.

My mom said "If you're still a captain by next Monday im going to call the principal."

And Nat said "Its such a honor! Do you know how zai House Captains are?"


You can call me selfish or self-centered, but at the end of the day, i really think my results will mean more to me than a year of stress over my House because i am in charge.

The agony of rejecting it, was slightly more than painful, because giving such an honor and knowing how many people would be disappointed in me really struck something which KEPT ON RIINGING LIKE SIAO in my stomach.

But i think at the end of the day, had i taken it up and regretted it when my results were less then desirable, i would have no one to blame but myself.

NO ONE, but myself.
Just me, and my regret. And i think that kind of regret would be so much more bitter than the regret of giving up the Captainship.

I know FOR A FACT that i will not do well of my Os if i take it up.

It wasnt so much a risk, it was a fact. Because Sports Day ends ONE DARN MONTH before Prelims! And i cannot get down to business and study ONE MONTH BEFORE PRELIMS, because that is akin to RUNNING THE BIGGEST RACE OF YOUR LIFE on an hour's sleep.

Stupid and reckless. Especially if you know you're not Usain Bolt and need to sleep (or study) twice more than even average atheletes to gain the same kind of energy.


101 Annoying Things To Do

1. Sing the Batman theme incessantly.

2. In the memo field of all your checks, write "for sensual massage."

3. Specify that your drive-through order is "to go."

4. Learn Morse code, and have conversations with friends in public consisting entirely of "Beeeep Bip Bip Beeep Bip..."

5. If you have a glass eye, tap on it occasionally with your pen while talking to others.

6. Amuse yourself for endless hours by hooking a camcorder to your TV and then pointing it at the screen.

7. Speak only in a "robot" voice.

8. Push all the flat Lego pieces together tightly.

9. Start each meal by conspicuously licking all your food, and announce that this
is so no one will "swipe your grub".

10. Leave the copy machine set to reduce 200%, extra dark, 17 inch paper, 98 copies.

11. Stomp on little plastic ketchup packets.

12. Sniffle incessantly.

13. Leave your turn signal on for fifty miles.

14. Name your dog "Dog."

15. Insist on keeping your car windshield wipers running in all weather conditions "to keep them tuned up."

16. Reply to everything someone says with "that's what YOU think."

17. Claim that you must always wear a bicycle helmet as part of your "astronaut training."

18. Declare your apartment an independent nation, and sue your neighbors upstairs for "violating your airspace".

19. Forget the punchline to a long joke, but assure the listener it was a "real hoot."

20. Follow a few paces behind someone, spraying everything they touch with Lysol.

21. Practice making fax and modem noises.

22. Highlight irrelevant information in scientific papers and "cc:" them to your

23. Make beeping noises when a large person backs up.

24. Invent nonsense computer jargon in conversations, and see if people play along to avoid the appearance of ignorance.

25. Erect an elaborate network of ropes in your backyard, and tell the neighbors you are a "spider person."

26. Finish all your sentences with the words "in accordance with the prophesy."

27. Wear a special hip holster for yourremote control.

28. Do not add any inflection to the end of your sentences, producing awkward
silences with the impression that you'll be saying more any moment.

29. Signal that a conversation is over by clamping your hands over your ears.

30. Disassemble your pen and "accidentally" flip the ink cartridge across the room.

31. Give a play-by-play account of a persons every action in a nasal Howard Cosell voice.

32. Holler random numbers while someone is counting.

33. Adjust the tint on your TV so that all the people are green, and insist to others that you "like it that way."

34. Drum on every available surface.

35. Staple papers in the middle of the page.

36. Ask 1-800 operators for dates.

37. Produce a rental video consisting entirely of dire FBI copyright warnings.

38. Sew anti-theft detector stripsinto peoples backpacks.

39. Hide dairy products in inaccessible places.

40. Write the surprise ending to a novel on its first page.

41. Set alarms for random times.

42. Order a side of pork rinds with your filet mignon.

43. Instead of Gallo, serve Night Train next Thanksgiving.

44. Publicly investigate just how slowly you can make a "croaking" noise.

45. Honk and wave to strangers.

46. Dress only in clothes colored Hunters Orange.

47. Change channels five minutes before the end of every show.

48. Tape pieces of "Sweating to the Oldies" over climactic parts of rental movies.

49. Wear your pants backwards.

50. Decline to be seated at a restaurant, and simply eat their complimentary
mints by the cash register.

51. Begin all your sentences with "ooh la la!"


53. only type in lowercase.

54. dont use any punctuation either

55. Buy a large quantity of orange traffic cones and reroute whole streets.

56. Pay for your dinner with pennies.

57. Tie jingle bells to all your clothes.

58. Repeat everything someone says, as a question.

59. Write "X - BURIED TREASURE" in random spots on all of someone's roadmaps.

60. Inform everyone you meet of your personal Kennedy assassination/UFO/ O.J
Simpson conspiracy theories.

61. Repeat the following conversation a dozen times: "Do you hear that?"
"What?" "Never mind, its gone now."

62. Light road flares on a birthday cake.

63. Wander around a restaurant, asking other diners for their parsley.
64. Leave tips in Bolivian currency.

65. Demand that everyone address you as "Conquistador."

66. At the laundromat, use one dryer for each of your socks.

67. When Christmas caroling, sing "Jingle Bells, Batman smells" until physically

68. Wear a cape that says "Magnificent One."

69. As much as possible, skip rather than walk.

70. Stand over someone's shoulder, mumbling, as they read.

71. Pretend your computer's mouse is a CB radio, and talk to it.

72. Try playing the William Tell Overture by tapping on the bottom of your chin.
When nearly done, announce "no, wait, I messed it up," and repeat.

73. Drive half a block.

74. Inform others that they exist only in your imagination.

75. Ask people what gender they are.

76. Lick the filling out of all the Oreos, and place the cookie parts back.

77. Cultivate a Norwegian accent. If Norwegian, affect a Southern drawl.

78. Routinely handcuff yourself to furniture, informing the curious that you don't want to fall off "in case the big one comes".

79. Deliberately hum songs that will remain lodged in co-workers brains, such as "Feliz Navidad", the Archies "Sugar" or the Mr. Rogers theme song.

80. While making presentations, occasionally bob your head. like a parakeet.

81. Lie obviously about trivial things such as the time of day.

82. Leave your Christmas lights up and lit until September.

83. Change your name to "AaJohn Aaaaasmith" for the great glory of being first in
the phone book. Claim it's a Hawaiian name, and demand that people pronounce each "a."

84. Sit in your front yard pointing a hair dryer at passing cars to see if they slow down.

85. Chew on pens that you've borrowed.

86. Wear a LOT of cologne.

87. Listen to 33rpm records at 45rpm speed, and claim the faster speed is
necessary because of your "superior mental processing."

88. Sing along at the opera.

89. Mow your lawn with scissors.

90. At a golf tournament, chant "swing-batabatabata-suhWING-batter!"

91. Ask the waitress for an extra seat for your "imaginary friend."

92. Go to a poetry recital and ask why each poem doesn't rhyme.

93. Ask your co-workers mysterious questions, and then scribble their answers in
a notebook. Mutter somethingabout "psychological profiles."

94. Stare at static on the TV and claim you can see a "magic picture."

95. Select the same song on the jukebox fifty times.

96. Never make eye contact.

97. Never break eye contact.

98. Construct elaborate "crop circles" in your front lawn.

99. Construct your own pretend "tricorder," and "scan" people with it, announcing
the results.

100. Make appointments for the 31st of September.

101. Invite lots of people to other people's parties.

I love number 90.

Friday, April 24, 2009


I reckon i lead a very interesting life.

I really do.

I just had to look like a scrambling fool in the papers, did i? I just had to.

My dad says though, it was because of me that ST used that picture. Because why use a picture where everyone is standing straight upright like the winners they are when you can use one where the girls on the podium are falling off and only-can-see-your-ponytail-less and grabbing onto each other for their dear lives, right?

People live for this kinda amusement.
Makes you realise that they are humans who screw up in big moments.

Aw but its embarrassing crazy, though.

And i cant believe how exciting it was yesterday.

IT WAS DARN FRIKIN MADNESS. (Now you imagine me with my face all worked up shouting this)

Just $%^&*(that actually means veryimmenselysomuchomgicantreallhytalkcoherentlyanymore) amazing.

I made up a theme song for us runners, which goes something like "I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins, spotlight on me and im ready to ra-ahce."

Tres original or what.
But who cares! Spears should be happy her Circus is doing some good in the world.



And he did.
He performs miracles, he does, Mr Almighty.

He did for Inez, he did for Fiona and he did for SN.
Living, breathing testimonies for what he can do if we just trust, i tell you. Its out of this world.


Thursday, April 02, 2009

Cinematic, baby
(It only means i think you're cool, mei)

There is something about Mark Richmond which makes you like him. It's not that he's exceptionally suave and handsome or beautifully chiseled, it's more of his way with words.

His poise.
His charm.
His charisma.

Obama oozes it, it practically flows from his shoes and brimms over and drowns his audience in his brilliant, charming, luminosity.
Hilter exploited it to achieve something so unspeakably horrific, at such a large scale he is comparable to the devil.
Martin Luther King employed it because He Had A Dream, a Dream to free his people.
Mahatma Ghandi possesed it and freed India, and millions of impoverished.
Cristiano Ronaldo wears it histrionically, arrogantly and sexily as he struts around the pitch.

Mark Richmond used it to soothe the nerves of 50 students who's hearts were beating, whose palms were wetting themselves and whose curiosity had turned into nervousness.

Mark Richmond told of Smiling Cameras and Being Yourself and lame little anecdotes which made the tangible agitation of 50 students melt into easy laughter.

Charisma is something special.

Its the beauty of making people see instead of just looking.
Its the beauty of making people listen instead of just hearing.
Its the beauty of making people feel instead of just listening.
Its the beauty of making people act instead of just feeling.

I suppose when God wants us to spread his magnificence and unconditional love, he gives us charisma to make others listen to us. Gosh, im thinking im not going to be all preachy because no one listens to people who preach all the time.

But God gives me experiences which i retell and retell and retell and SHOUT FROM THE ROOFTOPS AND SING IN THE RAIN ABOUT.

And the thing is, people listen to you. To me. To whoever who has has felt his grace.

And maybe thats Charisma at its best.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Football and Men

It takes someone special to inspire other men to call him HOT and mean it.

Everyone knows Cristiano Ronaldo is way too overrated, what with his his firm belief in his own (admittedly brilliant) looks and skills, his cocky mannerisms and self-confidence which borders on pure conceited narcissism.

And Steven Gerrad plastered his puckers into a camera lens, which significantly lowers his hotness level. Not that it wasn't an amazing and adorable display of unadulterated joy, but DA-YUM. Lips should be kept to oneself and not pressed onto millions of TV screensXD

Now this Liverpool Messiah practically saved all the asses of his teammates at the hugest game yet.

Which is probably why my male friends can find it in themselves to gush about this blonde, beautiful, boy.

Football holds no magnetic pull on me like it does to some men who
1. Conglomerate at coffee shops nationwide because to cheer unanimously for their beloved team.

2. Join the throngs of rabid fans at Clark Quay to watch the match in its full glory.

Nope. I am a big fat traitor.
I jump-ship as fast as each match is over, i change loyalties in a blink on an eye. And they dont even switch solely between 2 big hotshots, the Champions of football. Milan resides in a special place in my heart because i love KAKA.

I am a bad, bad, football fan.

Sports really brings out the raw, uncensored emotions which flow unstoppable from every sportmen.

Yesterday was my 400m race (geezer, fluke i say FLUKE. Coach dumped me in there for some crazy reason) and just when i managed to phsye myself up into a wrought, ready, excited bunch of muscles, the sky turned against us.

And i must say, our school has a unique way of mental prep. Other school plug eyephones to blast heavy metal into their ears, to block out the crazed chaos and it set their heart rate to a decent rate.

Some schools have breathing techniques to ready themselves.

Some competitors imagine themselves running the full strech all in their mind.

Our teams opts the more calm and trust in the Mighty One method. While other set their heart rate, we read calming quotes and pray like crazed pilgrims. And just so you know, it works like MAGIC.

So anyway- our race was unceromoniously CANCELED. I mean darn it, right. We were all jumpy and ready, adrenelin coursing through our veins with impunity and BAM.

It was 20 min before our race, so me and Ling and Fiona were at the call room waiting for our turn, right. The sky was all black, as if it was having some terrible, terrible day. Then it was LET THE RAIN FALL DOWN and not only that LET IT FALL REAL HARD. LET IT KEEP ON FALLING AND NEVER STOP.

So it did.

An audible, and resigned (and perhaps a little pissed off) groan resounded thu the entire tent, and the guys who were getting ready to run their race were more then upset.

And then some guy said, gesturing wildy at the rain which was pouring, then lightening, and then thundering down again, "WAHLAO EH, MAKE UP YOUR MIND"

Which pretty much summed up how the rest of us were feeling.

It got so bad that the tent was flapping and the water was flowing in from every direction, the wind happily egging the endless streams right into the tent. The officials who has previously thought they were gonna get their break, were hastily closing their styrofoam boxes with their lunch because everything was getting wet.


Umbrellas were overturned, the track and field were flooding and the people was screaming at the thunder. (Embarrasing as it is. Sports people, they call us.)

The sky was waging a war against the land. Honestly. I had never seen rain and wind so ferocious for a long time. A makeshift tent has overturned, and under the tent, we huddled together to try to keep dry.

Rain, it bonded everyone, though.

Everyone started talking to each other about the mad weather, and there was this sense of "We're all in this togther, getting wet and getting our race postpones. Dammit, we've to stick together" kinda feeling.

It was nice in a strange, awkward, way.

So we seeked refuge in the guys toilet (it was the closest shelter to the tent) and the officials told us to "CLOSE YOUR EYES". It would have been hilarious had we not been terrifed that we would be either struck by lightning, or have the tent collaspe on us.

It was crazy.

It was mad.

But it was sorta, fun. (AND THATS NOT BECAUSE WE HAD TO RUN THROUGH THE GUYS TOILET- but dayum, you shoulda seen the faces. Priceless, every one of them.)


Thursday, March 12, 2009

Rainbows And Butterflies

Life is so brilliantly flashing and transitory that i can hardly keep track of the days.

Its one after another, and after that another and some.
Its funny, i used to arch my head to look up at those towering 16 year olds and wonder if i'd ever be that large and tall and stressed.

And now i am, and it quite scares me.

Large and tall and stressed.

Most of my stress, i figure, comes from reading the newspaper. I spend too much time reading them. I love reading the Sports section so much i pratically drool at the articles.

I am in love.

This time it's with ROHIT BRIJNATH and although he is married (i think. who cares anyway), that does nothing to deter me. He is the most engaging, witty, beautiful, funny, intelligent journalist to ever have lived.


I shriek when i see that he has written a article. I SHRIEK IN JOY- PURE AND UNADULTERATED.

I kiss and smother my face into the dirty inky page and brandish my scissors to cut his precious words out to forever treasure.

I scour the Sports section everyday watching for his "Rohit Brijnath Senior Correspondent' name to bounce out at me.

He write about tennis, and cricket and anything and everything from football to golf and he is HARDCORE Roger Federer. Which makes ME hardcore Roger Federer because i love him.

When i cannot find his article in the papers, my heart sags and i find that the day is a little bleaker. Then i perk up because i know he will probably write the next day.

"Self belief comes in different pakages. Rafael Nadal wears it quietly, Usain Bolt laughingly, Lewish Hamilton arrogantly, Cristiano Ronaldo histrionically.

Kim wears his self belief proudly, loudly, colourfully."

"The result was a contest that was at once, bruising and brilliant, a tennis masterpiece so luminous that it lit up a city that was suffering power outages."

- Rohit Brijnath

I love how he writes.
Its blissfully fun and upbeat and incredibly informative.

Journalism is a pretty extraodinary job, i reckon.
But then some say its better to spend one's time reading articles then scribbling something oneself that's going to turn into fish-wrap within a day.


The Hwa Chongers have come to visit again because its this time of the year. But only this time their younger than us and if anything it makes me feel perversely old and well- OLD. Its just like that, you can't explain it. Its difficult to bring yourself to be interested in boys younger than you.

Mrs Cheong also left us today.
She told us she had facebook which i cracked up so hard at i nearly fainted.

But the sense of family and belonging i felt all around was so overwhelming i was glad, so amazingly glad that i was in this school.

HA. How many people can say that from their heart? HOW MANY? I can i can i can!

Plus theres this strange man who swims EVERY SINGLE DAY WITHOUT FAIL RAIN OR SHINE downstairs, so my Aunty Yeni and my Gong Gong call him the Crazy Man.

I didn't understand how that worked because swimming every day made me cool, not crazy.

But they told me he smoked.
Technically, if you smoke and swim everyday, people upstairs who have loads of time will call you Crazy. Life's funny.

I didnt know Ryan Seacrest was gay.
I didnt know Adam Lambert was too.

"Nothing saves anyone's life, sir, its just postpones their death"
-Posner from The History Boys