maybe i should turn myself into one of those sickeningly happy people. those people who go on and on about the beauty of this world and the joys of life, whose cups are always half full rather than half empty.
the people who find joy in every little part of their lives, from the 'wonderful' shit they took in the morning to the 'sweet smelling' fart their brother produced in the middle of the night.
they go to sleep at night thinking that tomorrow will be a great day, and wake up in the morning to embrace the greatness of the world.
the happy people who truly believe in education, do their homework religiously, take down notes during class, voluntarily answer questions, participate in all sorts of activities, make new friends all over the place, study hard for exams and ace everything. when problems arise, they believe that god will save them, or that it's all just a test. "what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger," they say.
i could turn into a happy person too, but that just wouldn't be fun, would it?
i walked home with my phone balanced on the top of my head, hoping that the radiation and vibration would scramble my brains and kill me when someone sends me a message.
and it also helped that i had to concentrate on balancing the phone, so i couldn't think of other sick stuff.
i'm pretty sure you have seen the new dove campaign advertisements, something about getting little girls to appreciate their inner beauty.
i think it would be rather amusing (more like FUCKING FUNNY) if girls see the "15 is the average age girls develop eating disorders," posters and think "oh, i'm 15," and then go on a diet.
and i also wonder, how in the hell are they going to implement the campaign? it's not like they can teach girls to love themselves.
one more thing, it seems that dove soaps are containing more and more moisturiser and lesser and lesser SOAP. soon its gonna become 1% soap, 99% moisturiser, and we'll all smell like shit because there isin't enough soap to wash our asses.
every lunar new year, my father would spend hundreds of dollars on cute little potted flowers and put them around our front door.
they'll look pretty and beautify our doorstep for about 2 weeks, after which they rot and die. we'll then desperately water and fertilize them, hoping that they'll somehow live again.
but it always fails and there'll be a bunch of rotting plants at our doorstep for about a month, until my maid gets un-lazy enough to throw them all away.
many things in life are like the flowers; they're all nice and pretty at the beginning, and then start to rot and die after a while. often, the rotting process even takes up a longer time than the pretty beginnings because we're unwilling to just give up and move on.
the thing is, why bother buying the flowers when you know they're gonna die soon anyway? is 2 weeks' worth of beauty enough to cover up the month of shit? and then you throw the flowers out and try to forget that they ever existed.
the moral of the story is that we should always invest in good plants, so they won't die and you won't have to deal with the shittiness of it all. or if they die, discard them immediately so they won't leave a sour smell at your door.
not too long ago, i was on the bus going to school when a JC girl came on and sat in front of me. i noticed that she had too many white hairs, and realised that people my age do get white hairs, which was something i forgotten could exist (seriously).
i then went on to conclude that JC kids are too stressed since i haven't seen white hairs in poly for such a long time that i forgot that they existed.
(i also secretly gloated over her apparent misfortune/my apparent fortune)
and then today my mother told me that there was a long white hair at the back of my head, and i was like "OH FUCK pluck it out!" my father plucked it out and i looked at it and it was indeed long and white.
now my mother says that i have white hairs because i don't sleep enough (10 hours a day ain't sufficient?). i think it's because i'm too stressed, just like the JC girl, except that i'm not stressed over matters related to studying. i suffer from secret, hidden stress, and because it's secret, i can't tell you what it is (i'm trying to be funny).
maybe god was punishing me for gloating. he always punishes me for my 1% evil, but never rewards my 99% kindness. such is the sadness of my life.
i think it must have been because of the work at GV. i learnt the valuable skill of allowing time to fly and not get bored, otherwise i would have died of boredom by my second week there.
and because of this skill, the entire semester has flown by in the blink of an eye. what used to be long, brain-killing lectures and tutorials have now lost their potency. i no longer count the seconds till the end of class, and they pass so damn quickly.
days, weeks, months, all came and went, and now the semester is gone. somehow i feel that i never really had the chance to live through it; instead i feel like i was just drifting by and watching life live itself, like a ghost hovering behind my own head.
but in the end, i had my fun, and this semester definitely brought to me many memorable experiences.
boredom looks like a bunch of fluffy stuff, swirling in the wind. you reach out to grab it, to feel it, but your hand just passes through the whispy emptiness.
so you just sit and stare. and watch as it forms random shapes and images. look at that cute bunny! was that the girl? she seems really happy.
soon, the images start to smell. you can sniff out her perfume, the one that you miss so much. the bunny smells like shit, and you fling your arms out to smash it back into fluffy oblivion.
and then you heard her laughter. she laughs just the same way you remembered her to. she looks beautiful. the bunny hops past her legs and she giggles.
the fluffy stuff becomes more and more solid, more and more real. you can't see the wall behind her now. all you see is her, and all of her beauty.
she leans in and kisses you. you can taste her lips. you like it. the bunny starts nibbling your toe and you kick it away.
you remind youself that she isin't real. she's made of fluffy stuff, dammit! "but i can see her, smell her, hear her, taste her and feel her," you think, as she throws her arms around your neck. "she MUST be real."
singapore won the ASEAN Football Championship. i think tiger cup sounded so much better.
and we won despite only winning 2 out of 7 matches.
i've been to all of our home matches. and oh fuck, i realised that the tickets from 2004 were FREE. student tickets cost $2 now.
i think the best match in this competition was the one against malaysia. the crowd was roaring as anti-malaysian sentiments flooded our minds. they're our arch-enemy after all.
but nothing can beat the fun we had against myanmar 2 years ago.
"oh dear lord, i need your wisdom, your grace which is sufficient, your strength that is my joy, your streams of living water that never runs dry, your strength that is made perfect in weakness" - stolen without permission
it seems rather strange that people always use weird and fanciful language when praying to god. it's almost as though he wouldn't understand if we spoke in singlish.
if it were me praying, i'd just go "OH GOD PLEASE HELP ME!" i'm pretty sure he'd know what i mean.
"kaite will you come true for me, come by some time when i'm awake? everyone else just lies to me, they say you're a dream. will you step into the light from the screen, so that i can make out your shape? you don't need to tell me anything, because i know what you mean." kaite come true - son, ambulance
"i want to paint the living room blue," my mother said.
"no no no it's too ugly."
"i don't care, blah blah... tired of looking at the same white walls for 10 years, blah blah..." she went.
"DON'T do it," i told her.
2 weeks later
the living room is blue and green, the hallway is blue-green-ish, the doors are light blue, there's paint splattered all over the parquet floor. the house smells of paint.
the green sofas are invisible now, blending into the walls. the painting is poorly done (my maid did most of it), doors can't close properly because the paint is too thick around the frame.
the whole place is a mess. and it looks like shit.
"the house looks like shit," i told my maid.
"what to do? your mother wanted to do it, so no choice loh."
sometimes my mother has to remember that she is not a designer, and that there are actually other people living in the house who MIGHT not like what she's doing.
now i've gotta look at the blue-green walls for the next 10 years.
