billy's lack of effectiv-ness

Tuesday i went with matt to IKEA to get pat's birthday present. it was one of at most three times i actually enjoyed going to IKEA, even though i love IKEA. this trip had a bit of a damper to it, though, as i realized that my Chuan Park flat came nowhere near to the IKEA flat ideal. the only room with any IKEA furniture at all is the study [except for the swivel chair everything's BILLY and EFFECTIV and LACK and one glass cabinet that i can no longer remember the name of]. and the study doesn't look all that good [at least it's not mismatched] because it's full of clutter.

i got irritated with AppleCorner@IKEA's pride in being the world's first [and only?] AppleCorner. what's so bloody difficult about setting up an AppleCorner? it's just a long shelf/case with PCs on top of it. again: i'm losing faith in Apple.

IKEA has some pretty interesting stuff. not exactly where one would go to buy a birthday gift; i think the fact that we managed to find stuff that was non-worthless/useless says something about how resourceful we are/were [though one of my ideas about a set of kitchen knives probably was a bit daft].

Tuesday was also the first time i walked into a Burger King and didn't feel like eating anything. in fact, i even felt [very] slightly repulsed at the food available there, like as if i didn't survive on food that tasted good and normally ate whatever was good for me. maybe the whole eat- less thing is starting to work out for me.

looking at furniture and wall colors, wardrobes, etc etc was fun. i used to spend hours in The Sims just building houses and furnishing them; maybe i really should take up a design course in poly. matt was also there to keep an eye out for ideas for his new place at Aljunied, i advised him to choose door handles instead of door knobs if he had a choice--try twisting a doorknob to enter a room when one hand has a drink and the other has a book/newspaper/sandwiches.

--right now the Chuan Park management has invaded my flat to discern if my flat's concealed pipes are in danger of bursting and flooding the unit. it's fucking ridiculous the kind of shit i have to put up with because my idiot father decided an HBD flat was beneath him, but can't afford a unit from a proper, quality, housing development--

Wednesday was patrick's birthday dinner celebration. wayne brought up a point that you're not supposed to celebrate your birthday in advance, according to cheena tradition. which amazed me, because i thought it went that you're not supposed to celebrate it after your birthday. moot point anyway. celebrating it on Wednesday made no sense to me, if his actual birthday's Thursday and Friday would mean staying out longer [and likely another xuan's house thing].

have you seen those really bad ads for a japanese restaurant called Ichiban before films at cinemas? we were going to eat there yesterday. matt seems to have this adversion to japanese food, probably not unexplainable but i decided not to prod; anyway we ended up eating at Swensen's. the Plaza Singapura one is known to my family for having bad, slow service [my family eats there every other birthday]. warned them, but there wasn't much choice there. the prices are abysmal, even without service charge and GST [hah! service charge. another one of those hilarious ironies that you have to pay through the nose as a result of].

we burned an American flag [they came on my 49ers] and matt tore up two, much to joel keh's chargin [according to dax he's a poseur- yank, anyway i can't see anyone but americans standing up for america. they seem to have a skewed perception of everyone/eveything else, sometimes even of themselves]. everyone was taken by leowjun's ridiculous [ridiculous because it manages to fit a huge LCD, five-megapixel CCD and 3x optical zoom into a Casio Exilim-esque body] and ridiculously expensive camera. even i, i must add, though though at that price i would've bought a better camera [yitchun's Olympus C-750 UZ, currently on loan to me, comes to mind]. matt did his work at the table between dinner and dessert, said we were talkign rubbish. true, but look at what they were all talking about at xuan's house: clothes, girls, the MTV Asia Awards, Jackass! and the going-ons in school. it makes matt's bluff [in case xuan's parents came out and wondered about why they were sitting in a circle] about talking girl talk no longer a bluff. i wanted to read Prozac Nation there, but i don't think it would've helped to read that there and then.

madness ensued when the bill came [we were somehow over a hundred dollars short for a while, and apparently people still owe xuan money for the pies at his place], and later when almost everyone tried to jack [jack?] pat. half of them ended up on the floor, leowjun especially painfully due to an operation he's had recently.

then pool at Le Meridien. i'm not much of a pool shark. my mom's brought us to pool before, i got a bit sick of it when my sister shot a cue ball at me by accident; more or less gave it up since then. just stood and watched, incredulous that they were screening a Harry Potter film in a pool hall.

strangely though the instant i parted ways with untung and alvin at Serangoon station i lost the buzz of company and went home down again.

"i must get out once in a while
everything is starting to die
the dust settles the worms dig
the spiders crawl over the bed

i must get out once in a while
i eat all day and i now i am fat
yesterday's meal is hugging the plate
you never wash up after yourself"

- "You Never Wash Up After Yourself", Radiohead

designated driver

Thursday my father returned to Port Moresby, fighting with my mom on the phone whilst getting ready to go, and with her in person whilst he was leaving the flat.

Friday i attended the Nanyang Polytechnic Open House. suffice it to say that i wasted my time, and that it's full of unsavoury characters.

Saturday i went to the NUS Challenge Shield debates. it wasn't bad, actually. both matt and xuan were representing their own JCs there, but xuan said he wouldn't be speaking at all. and ACJC had this huge, intimidating posse, so i tagged along with matt's team and found myself to be the only one on NJC's side. matt didn't speak the first two rounds. at the first round there were two men and three judges plus the timekeeper, so i felt less out of place. however on the second round i discovered that SRJC's uniform is almost identical to what i was wearing, save for a bit of colour and texture [my pants were corduroy, their shirts were of the shiny polyester material that all uniforms seem to be made of].

you can probably imagine what the final, NJC-vs-ACJC match felt like. the motion was that This House [it took me until we were three speakers into the first debate to realize that THBT stands for This House Believes That] Would Set The Internet Free.

i did not expect them to choose that motion [NJC was prop]. i expected them to choose the one about religon and politics not mixing. or even the first of three motions [which i can no longer remember] offered. anything that mixes with the Internet will be messy. that rings even more true when it involes privacy/human rights/censorship issues.

i can't really tell, but my money would have been on the fact that no-one on either side was a techie. it would have helped, greatly.

i read Prozac Nation outside the rooms in between debates. it felt odd reading it whilst the people inside the classroom wrestled with issues like overpolluting MNCs and ... i suddenly cannot remember what the motion for the second round was.

alex from the NJC debating team is nasty. he does the god-cop-bad-cop thing that was so reminiscent of my father i wanted to strangle him. i would print his surname but i can't remember it. he lacks leadership qualities. matt and the other girl who also spoke for the first time in the last round seemed really down afterwards. if i were her i wouldn't've offered alex that ride to the train station. chances are he spent the trip to the station giving her more 'pointers'. alex isn't even a/his real name [in my book a name you give yourself is not one].

i thought they did well considering the circumstances. i was going to say so, but i first decided to hold until i found out the results, and then after the results were announced i thought it would sound bad, if matt thought i was saying it because i had to. and after we met up with xuan the moment passed.

i overanalyse and overthink too much [the 'too much' is not redundant, it's reinforcing].

plus i worry quite a bit too. at xuan's i told everyone that i decided not to drink because i hadn't slept quite a bit--drinking would smash everything. their drinking-goggles game was impossible to follow even with me sitting at the side watching, i don't think i would have lasted much acutally playing it. that was true, but additionally there was the issue of becoming drunk. i have yet to explore the limits of my liver and hence do not know how much i can take on before i become pissed and shitfaced. so i let the others do the drinking.

you know that Robbie Williams video [Come Undone, i think--odd name] where he wakes up in the morning and walks through the house, looking at all the passed-out people lying in heaps on the floor in the house and remembering the night before?

that was more or less what i felt whilst sitting in the dark in the room where all the passed-out people were [and also while the actual drunken-running-around was going on]. i went up there after alvin chow and matt were put to bed. then came leowjun. then cedric [a bit of a surprise there. ced doth not seem like the sort to get pissed] and just sat there, got alvin tissues, reset matt's arm twice before giving up, did't remember that i had already tried to do that when xuan came in and tried resetting it as well, brought the bottle of bacardi and pat's flask up from the middle of the living room floor where it lay, talked to pat for quite a bit, wacthed leowjun in his half-drunken-stupor amazingly managing to answer incessant incoming messages on his Nokia, saw ken get alvin a towel, etc.

it wasn't much at all, but it satisfied the worry bit in me, probably enough for me to sleep [dax said he saw me asleep in the chair, but i don't remember sleeping]. see, this is the kind of kid that parents like mine bring up. my father used to come home drunk and just sit at the doorstep, and no one would know he's back until we heard him or happened to open the door. he would be asking ask endless questions related to his current location, his identity, our identities, and what he was doing here. we just put him to bed and the next morning--no recollection for our troubles. it's sick. my parents are still teenagers, and i'm ready to settle down into a Saab, a flat, a 9-to-5 job, and live the rest of my life out quietly [am i the oldest seventeen-year-old in the world?].

the rest of the night i spectated, helped a bit with clearing cups, took too few pictures, sung along quietly to 99 Red Balloons, etc etc.

it was fun, though from the second-person view it probably shouldn't have been. i'm always living through other people anyway. creeps me out sometimes, when i think about it.

"I'm living without you
I know all about you
I have run you down into the ground
Spread disease about you over town

I used to adore you
I couldn't control you
There was nothing that I wouldn't do
To keep myself around and close to you

Do you have an opinion?
A mind of your own?
I thought you were special
I thought you should know
But I've run out of patience
I couldn't care less"

- "Special", Garbage

the bleached stuff

i feel like i'm incapable of taking care of myself.

i woke up at ten forty this morning. two hours past my alarm. which is a four-hour improvement.

i hadn't eaten anything in close to twenty hours.

the only thing i feel like eating now is the only slice of non-white bread available in the entire house [Gardenia Wheatgerm and Bran]. it's miles away from the preferred wholemeal bread, but at least it's not the bleached stuff [which wouldn't be so bad if, say, i bothered to do something like get butter on it, but ...].

i don't feel like drinking anything else except cans and cans of "soft" drinks.

and before anyone complains, this isn't about "me, me, me".

it's about "i, i, i".

so there.

"Confusion that never stops
The closing walls and the ticking clocks
Gonna come back and take you home
I could not stop, that you now know"

- "Clocks", Coldplay

dysFUNctional

NB: the capitalization is inherent in Microsoft Word, and I cannot be arsed to switch AutoCorrect off. Hence the incontinuity with the capitalization, because a bit of it was composed on my Tungsten T.

I’d never thought I would see the day where Coldplay was being advertised on TV. Justin Timberlake in performing on my Thomson Life TV now. I taped the Grammys. I wanted to see Coldplay accept Record Of The Year. I regret it now, because I have ploughed through many inches of shit, and I’m nowhere near. And if it wasn’t for the Grammy [the gramophone icon] itself, the entire thing would have easily been mistaken for some version of MTV’s myriad awards shows.

pat's told me to try the SPCA--they might have Midget. i don't know--how many people in Chuan Park would expend their precious petrol to take a handsome, purebred, Papillion to the SPCA, when the can quietly keep him, and no-one will know? how many singaporeans, for that matter?

i don't know. can't hurt, can it? though disappointment does, and it looms/threatens.

and i get the feeling that if i ever should meet Midget being walked by whoever found him, i would be met with shameless accusations of dishonesty and 'anyhow saying' that person. that's just the sad truth of the people we live amongst.

let's hope whoever next finds him is an ang moh expat. so far the two families that have found him are Caucasian ones, the reason he escaped was once because of Midget being flight of foot, another being the Asian security guards [see below].

my father flew back last Monday. he went from Gate 16 direct to supper with his friends, coming back drunk.

drunk. this is how he chooses to meet his family after leaving last year and arriving twelve days late for lunar new year's, and going out to get pissed with friends before seeing his kids.

needless to say the replacement reunion dinner on the fifteenth/last day of lunar new year's did not go well.

remarks about what if i wasn't lucky in the Os, what about papua, my curt response that the singaporean government would take me first, his inquiry about my plans, back-and-forth, like as if our Cellini dining table was Wimbledon.

pre-dinner wasn't good, either. i was dispatched to go return our rented copy of the Homerun DVD to Video EZY Thomson, an experience not to be repeated. Firstly: Homerun?! Really?! Secondly: SBS Transit 130 travels in convoy. I spent three dollars and the same amount of hours getting on the wrong bus, going in the wrong direction, before getting there and spending all of three minutes returning the DVD.

So I schlep to the bus stop. And I wait. And I wait. I have been waiting for almost forty-five minutes. I am the only one at the bus stop. My paranoia has long since kicked in, and I wonder if the bus service has long since ended, if everyone there is looking at me, wondering what the hell I am doing there waiting. Am I a suicide bomber, going to tear Sin Ming Drive apart?

So I sit there, unsure of myself as usual, when a silver Aston Martin DB7 pulls right up at my feet. My imagination is ready to lurch me right into the Aston and speed off to Chuan Park. Then this teenage boy steps out of it [from the passenger seat, thank god] and promptly hails a cab to get him wherever he’s going. I can only assume he lives somewhere here and his presumed father in the Aston was simply giving him a lift to the main road [however, Sin Ming Drive is hardly a main road] to hail a cab.

By now, my jaw has been dropped for about fifteen minutes [I can tell the make and model of [almost?] every car I see on the road. I noticed the Aston before it even finished rounding the corner] and I averted my eyes the instant the door popped open so I didn’t look like my mother drove a Suzuki Swift GL and it was the first Aston I’ve ever seen on Singaporean roads [the capitalization on ‘singaporean’ is Microsoft’s fault. It was not intentional. It would probably make much more sense and save a lot more effort just to go back and change it instead of opening yet another set of parenthesis to explain, but I think this makes my point clearer].

The world is unfair. But I can take pleasure in the fact that that DB7 is actually American. It sits on a—very old--Jaguar XJ-S platform, and both Jag and Aston are owned by that Ford Motor Company. Ha!

So after the whole Aston thing, I went upstream and found an entire clump of Thomson-ers waiting for the same bus, one bus stop back. So I wait with them. I almost want to approach one of them to check if I am at the correct stop, where the bus heads on to Ang Mo Kio from here. But I don’t, even after spying a sign, that says 130A goes from Ang Mo Kio to somewhere along Sin Ming Drive and stops, that worries me.

So why am I not surprised that when 130 finally turns up, the sign on it proudly states that this bus is going to Shenton Way?

It takes me another two hours to get home, by which time half my fare card has been emptied. I can probably forget my usual long bus rides to nowhere and back from now onwards.

When I get home, my father harangues me for my [maternal] aunt Esther’s telephone number. I have it, but I won’t give it to him [he owes her money and wants to loan some more]. Of course, I do not tell him that, instead telling him pissed-offly that I do not even have my [maternal] grandfather’s telephone number [another unabashed lie], why would I have my her number?

So he asks me then, if I know his number? [“sarcastically”, of course—I believe there is no such thing as sarcastic mandarin]

I tell him, even more pissed off, that his number is MY number [and that he has no business running up a thousand dollars’ worth of calls on my line, either, but of course I don’t tell him that, mainly because my command of mandarin is OK, but not OK enough to mentally translate that in time].

NB: if you still have not realized, the above conversation was conducted in mandarin. God, I am so cheena.

My mom’s in bed, post-cry. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but she doesn’t look like she wants to talk right now, and wanting to be left well alone myself in situations like this, I go sit in the study room and wait for her to feel better, instead of going to the dining table the instant my father decrees it time to eat like my siblings.

ARGH! The Coldplay ad is playing a second time!

My father went to Taipei and took my SIM card with it over the weekend. Enough said.

When my landed on Monday, he passed me his broken Braun electric toothbrush and told me to get it repaired. Excuse me? He buys a three-hundred-dollar toothbrush for use over there while I poke along with manual ones and my ever-present halitosis? And he wants me to schlep to wherever the rurally-located service center to repair it? I told him that the company said it would take two weeks to repair it—without so much as calling the company first. he said he’d bring it back next trip, then. Which means I now have at least half a year to get it done, and if I get it done early, I can even use I for a bit.

Ha! 50 Cent just went up onstage to accept a prize he did not win.

We also counted our hongbao money recently [only after the fifteenth day—this tradition thing that my mom insists on. I strangely got $302, more than my siblings. But I got shanghaied into putting most of my money into the bank—I was originally only going to deposit $100. That should be fine, I hear you say, just take it out late at an ATM. My mom took away my ATM card sometime ago—long story. And I owe pat money. No way in hell I’m telling my mom I borrowed money to cover my bills, so I’m out of luck. At least I can pay pat back.

“We put the FUN back in dysFUNctional!”

"The lights go out and I can't be saved
Tides that I tried to swim against
Have brought me down upon my knees
Oh I beg, I beg and I plead

Singing

Come out of the things unsaid
Shoot an apple off my head
And a trouble that can't be named
A tiger's waiting to be tamed

Singing
You are
You are

Confusion that never stops
The closing walls and the ticking clocks
Gonna come back and take you home
I could not stop, that you now know

Singing

Come out upon my seas
Cursed missed opportunities
Am I a part of the cure
Or am I part of the disease

Singing
You are, you are
You are, you are
You are, you are
You are, you are

And nothing else compares
And nothing else compares
And nothing else compares
And nothing else compares

You are, you are

Home, home where I wanted to go
Home, home where I wanted to go
Home, home where I wanted to go (You are)
Home, home where I wanted to go (You are)"

- "Clocks", Coldplay

low battery

the following is transcripted right out of my sketchbook

Tuesday, 3rd February 2004 02:41 AM

Low Battery

Your battery is low. Some services will be disabled. Place the handheld in a HotSync cradle to recharge.

[OK]

Tuesday, 3rd February 2004 02:45 AM

Low Battery

Your battery is EXTREMELY low. Your handheld will power off soon. Place the handheld in a HotSync cradle to recharge.

[OK]

damn. i listened and went to leave my Palm in the HotSync cradle to recharge. hopefully i get arsed enough to transcript this into text when i wake up [if i sleep].

i still miss the dog. not that i shouldn't, but unlike me and my petulance/pensiveness, the rest of the house seems to be taking it too well. my maid's asked after it, but apart from that i seem to be the only one affected enough to alter my choice of activities - zoning out in front of the XBox, reading all day [and believe me that's hard when my last trip to the library reaped nothing in terms of literary material - the library@esplanade doesn't have a Fiction section, believe it or not], not eating, thinking about the dog, jumping off the comp with hurried, impolite salutations to the one person i was talking to/wanted to talk to, because someone thought she heard the dog barking and i practically stormed off downstairs in search.

obviously reaped nothing, that excursion. my mom dragged me off to the friendly neighbourhood temple to atone for my sin of being born in the year of the tiger, how ridiculous is that?!?

my hand's getting ache-y. Note To Self: Transcript & Finish This Entry Later.

I Mean It.

nineteen eighty-six

seriously. i've offended the God In-Charge Of The Earth simply by being born at a certain time, within a certain year?

how would that work if we had no calendars or clocks?

my mom went against the flow of traffic to get an illegal parking space. if there's one aspect of my mother that i'd like to emulate, it's her i-don't-care-if-i'm-in-your-way-there-are-five-Mercs-blocking-my-way-into-the-parking-lot driving style. why do you think my dream car is an old, likely decrepit-by-then, utterly prang-able, matt black 1986 Saab 900S [preferably turbo] cabriolet?

as i walked into the temple at toa payoh i immediately registered the fog inside, the smoke rising up into the rafters [assuming those cheena wooden beams are called rafters], the sudden rasp in my throat, the pain in my eyes. if i had worn my contacts they would have hardened up right away and popped clean out of my eyes.

i dryly commented to my siblings that i had discovered the cause of SARS. no reaction. one of my sisters, the secondary three one, wasn't there because she was a Christian/Catholic and hence had an argument/excuse against going.

because my siblings are unaffected by the arbitrary decision the almanac or whatever that decides these things made, my mom just brought them in front of Confucius and did the general please-help-my-son-not-fail thing.

because my mother and i are special cases [those born in a year of the Cow, Pig, Snake or Tiger are affected--thank goodness i'm a Tiger and neither Cow nor Pig, and it doesn’t hurt that my mother's a Snake] she needs to ask someone which of the many sculptures she's to pray to.

i can just imagine the situation if i were the one who had to ask the temple concierge the same question: 'Excuse me, my good man, which of these vulgarly-hued effigies am I to offer sticks of joss and pieces of scrappy paper to atone for my sin of being born when i was?'

it's just sad that "my good man's" inability to understand more than half that sentence would take the edge off that insult.

as we were leaving the temple my brother wondered aloud don't places like these cause holes in the ozone layer?

atta boy.

oh, and as we were leaving my mother and i [i was in the front seat, as usual] stared down the nose of a black Mercedes-Benz E240 as she lurched our Suzuki Swift out off the double yellow lines and past the front bumper of said Merc. absolute Fun.

sex bomb

"sometimes a bit of rubber can alter the course of mankind. too bad singaporeans are so kiam they're unwilling to part with small change."

all too true. though how easy would it have been to locate, let alone buy a condom in the kind of sleazy nightclub [where i was very likely conceived] that my father used to own?

though it is possible my mom may have had one on her--after all, what does a girl expect when she goes to work at a nightclub?

:)

the poseur train

an excerpt from the Reuters article "Spammers dial up mobile phones"
02/03/04 | 06:34 AM PST

"People like to receive messages," he said. "They think it's cool. When you get an SMS message you deal with it immediately, but for e-mails it just feeds into your e-mail box."

haha. i can just remember the times, while on an MRT train hurtling towards Orchard, that i was dying for someone to send me a text message or give me a ring so that i would feel less uncomfortable amongst the Nokians, Samsung-huays and Nintendo couples plugged into each other's Game Boy Advance.

Roxio Toast™ for Mac

i spend too much time reading other people's blogs. archives are particularly thorny to get through. but i'm glad i did, because i'd never thought i'd find someone else who thinks that toast and margarine is one of the great foods of the world.

ignorance is bliss

i can't take comfort in the fact that i never was a good student to begin with, because i topped my level in Primary One [simultaneously topping Victoria School's Top Student of 2002--ergh, too many "tops" in one sentence] and got into Nanyang Primary School by sailing through the Primary Three GEP screening exams.

i'm too clever by half.

03.45: No Sleep

not that it doesn't look at all beautiful, but the four AM sky would probably look heaps better if there were clouds in the sky, if my dog was sleeping under the same ceiling, and if i wasn't so depressed.

chase the hongkong-shanghai citibank of china

my aunt works as a manager at HSBC. i envy her yuppie lifestyle; her Jalan Bahagia HDB terraced house, her weekend golfing trips, her Warren Country Club membership, her soon-to-be-Lexus-RX300 Toyota RAV4, her disposable contact lenses and subsequent Lasik surgery, her old Sony Ericsson T610, her ability to change mobiles every three months, her old-but-stylish IBM NetVista PC, even her old secretarial position at Chase Manhattan Bank.

and, of course, i feel reassured by her previous choice of a Toyota RAV4 instead of a Toyota Corolla or Honda Jazz.

she [and her boyfriend] brought my sisters and i to Lau Pa Sat one night to have satay. it's simply amazing just to be able to do that, looking up at the glass and steel of the skyscrapers above, emptied of its daytime population, Shenton Way around you--not exactly at a standstill, but going by slowly enough for you to appreciate that the Rat Race is officially taking a fifteen-minute break, before it resumes the rush flowing through its arteries tomorrow morning.

a bit like what i expect Raffles Place to be like on Sundays. i should really go find out one of these days.

past/present/future

when i was younger, all i wanted was for the future to come. for me to be finally out of the education system, to be working 9-to-5 [or, as TalkingCock put it a long time ago, if i remember correctly, 8.30-to-5.30] at a white-collar office, driving a Saab 9-5 Wagon, talking on my Ericsson T28s, living in an IKEA flat, listening to music by The Cardigans [coincidentally, the last four all originate from Sweden].

that was the past. sometime in the present, 2003/2004, i realized that it all will probably not come out this perfect. i also realized that the future is absolute crap. let us look superficially at the future that has come to my past [i.e. the present].

Saab Automobile AB has been bought over by General Motors, and the General has fucked it up and killed it--the upcoming Saab 9-2 is a Subaru Impreza WRX with a new nose and badges [shudder, shudder, shudder].

Ericsson Mobile Phones AB has merged with Sony Mobile Phones Co, resulting in the worst squirrelly, j-poppy abomination to ever bear the Ericsson name, Sony Ericsson Mobile Communications AB.

at least IKEA and The Cardigans remain. but i'll probably've to add Absolut Vodka to my list, just to even things out a bit.

so now, in 2004, my conclusion of 2003 is that though i hated it, it was absolutely necessary, and there were even some bits i really liked.

because 2003 taught me that history [in every sense of the word] may not be so bad, and the future may not be such a great thing after all.

"There are too many questions
There is not one solution
There is no resurrection
There is so much confusion

And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love vibration
You make me feel
You make it shine

There are too many options
There is no consolation
I have lost my illusions
What I want is an explanation

And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love direction
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel

I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin

There is no comprehension
There is real isolation
There is so much destruction
What I want is a celebration

And I know I can feel bad
When I get in a bad mood
And the world can look so sad
Only you make me feel good"

- "Love Profusion", Madonna

don't panic

i've flown off the bloody wall.

it's past four AM in the morning, and i'm wide awake. i can't tell if it's because i can't sleep, or i won't let myself sleep.

Midget [my dog, named after the MG Midget, an iconic British sportscar] is still missing. i sat up in bed for quite a bit just now, crying, feeling abso-sodding-lutely guilty even though it wasn't my fault. where's he sleeping tonight? i don't even know if anyone's taken him in for the night. i don't deserve to be lying on my stomach in bed, tapping this out on my Palm, when he could be lying in a ditch, cold, shivering, trying to find his way home.

i don't think i'll be getting any sleep tonight. if i do fall asleep, i'll wake up crushed with guilt.

in completely unrelated news: i had a weird dream the night before. the dream would be weird even if it were a normal one - i don't dream often, maybe once every few months, occasionally a few times in one week, that's it.

the thing that bothers me is that i can't remember the first half of the dream. all i can recall of it is that it was significant, meaning it meant something important.

in any case, the bit i remember, the second half, involved my Chuan Park apartment being flooded. my family [i cannot remember if my father was there, anyway it's very unlikely that he was] just sat around the house, nonchalant, myself included. then the doorbell rings, and for some reason Mr Khoo is at the door. i let him in and go about my business. he asks to look under my pillow [my bedroom is completely dry, for some reason], and comments on the mess underneath it: hongbaos [those with truly cheena-traditionist families will understand what my hongbaos were doing under my pillow], some of my sketches, my journal/sketchbook, an issue of Car UK, and this chinese watercolor painting of a tiger. on closer inspection [meaning as my view zooms in to show only the painting] the painting appears to have been sent to me by Mr Khoo himself [though nothing on the painting itself betrays that fact, it was something i just suddenly knew].

below the painting of the tiger are several lines of text in the following format: one line of chinese text followed by another line of english text, the english text being the translation of the chinese text.

i look at the translation of the first line of text, and it was something to the effect of: "too bad you were too scared to come back for lunar new year."

and then i wake up. [i was woken by my sister, trying to tell me that the dog's missing]

in the same way i know that the dream painting was sent by Mr Khoo, i know that the text refers to going back to good ol' Victoria School for LNY, but it still doesn't make any sense.

dream interpretation, anyone?

"Bones, sinking like stones
All that we fought for
Homes, places we've grown
All of us are done for

And we live in a beautiful world
Yeah we do, yeah we do
We live in a beautiful world

Bones, sinking like stones
All that we fought for
And homes, places we've grown
All of us are done for

And we live in a beautiful world
Yeah we do, yeah we do
We live in a beautiful world

Here we go
Here we go

And we live in a beautiful world
Yeah we do, yeah we do
We live in a beautiful world

Oh, all that I know
There's nothing here to run from
'Cause yeah, everybody here's got somebody to lean on"

- "Don't Panic", Coldplay

kicked in the gut

my dog disappeared today. i feel like i've been kicked in the gut, because he was found twice, and the second time he was found the security gaurd wouldn't let the dog stay inside the guardhouse itself, and he ran away.

"Baby thinks he's dying
Lost inside his bedroom
Mommy won't stop crying
And daddy's always working

There's no qoing back
There's no going back
There's no qoing back on this one

Baby wakes up with the sun
While everyone is sleeping
He thinks he's going crazy
This could be the big one

There's no going back
There's no going back
There's no going back

Sleeping with ghosts
It's such a lonely experince
The stars are out tonight
Only they can hear you breathing

You're so like a rose
You're so like a rose
You're so like a rose
I wish you could stay here"

- "So Like A Rose", Garbage

stupid fucking newspapers

that Tolkien fella must be turning in his grave. if he's dead. is he dead? whatever. i can't really be arsed if the bugger responsible for over ten hours' worth of yawn is dead or not. [!!! anti-LOTR-er!!! shock! horror!]

ANYWAY. did you know that Enya is on the soundtrack for Return Of The King? i was watching VH1 Video Collection, and the entire screen lit up with Frodo And His Motley Crew, mixed in with generous shots of Enya really singing, but looking and sounding like she's humming really loudly.

the promo for Superman by Five For Fighting is disturbing. because it's mostly [too much] of the lead singer and [not so much of] his piano. whoever the lead singer is, he looks creepy.

now that we've nicely sidestepping me having to go into the details of my [still! not! over!] Lunar New Year festivities because a good two-thirds of you are appalled at my opinion of LOTR [!!! anti-LOTR-er!!! again!], here're the real headlines.

FATHER ALLEGDELY WILL RETURN FOR LUNAR NEW YEAR, FIVE DAYS LATE
that's right, Air Niugini flies twice weekly to and from Port Moresby! just because he says he will doesn't mean he will. "you will know if he's really coming back when you see him at the airport" - eyewitness to previous Singapore sighting of Albert Khoo.

SONY ERICSSON Z1010 3G PHONE TOO HUGE
requisite functions all there, but Sony Ericsson's first third-generation phone is just too bulky. about the size of a P800, but shorter. hopefully it just looks big in the photo, but it seems unlikely.

NOKIA 7600 3G PHONE LACKS 3G FUNCTION
a coaster/slice of bread that has the features of a Nokia 7250/3330 but costs twice as much.
-lacks a memory-card slot for expansion [only 29 MB of memory is user-accessible]
-lacks a second camera pointed at the user for video-calls - incapable of video calls anyway
-large, odd shape - roughly the size of a closed Palm Tungsten T
-dialling with one hand will probably prove impossible
-it costs $800 with a $250 trade-in and a two-year contractual period, with no obvious functional advantage over older, cheaper, models. what kind of fool will fall for that? Singaporean fools, that's who

PALMONE SERVICE EFFICIENT, DHL'S RUDE
i received my Palm Tungsten T back from palmOne in half the time they estimated it would take. that's good. the DHL man who delivered it was rude and barely grunted twice to indicate where i should sign. that's bad.

NOKIA 8250 STOLEN WITH ENZER CD PLAYER IN YJC, N-GAGE LEFT UNTOUCHED
fringe story of the week. a Nokia 8250 and sub-$50 Enzer portable CD player were stolen whilst left unattended in a YJC classroom recently. the weird bit is that a Nokia N-Gage, undoubtedly the hippest and trendiest mobile phone available now, was left untouched. is the thief just REALLY STUPID or does he know that the Nokia N-Gage is really a silly excuse for a marketing gimmick and, in his hidden heart of gold, decided not to contribute further to the plague of N-Gages by NOT stealing it and selling it to some two-bit 'handphone' shop in the heartlands?

CHEAP PORSCHE BURNS ALONG ROADSIDE - FEW CARE
a cheap, old, YELLOW, Porsche 911 burns along Braddell Road. tailback cause by thousands who wanted to get the license plate number of the rarity. driver/owner seen in tears by roadside - WAKE UP. it's an UGLY, YELLOW [ YELLOW?! YOU REALLY THOUGHT THAT WAS A GOOD COLOR FOR A PORSCHE?!], fuck-me sports car. it's barely worth more than my mother's Suzuki Swift GL.

"The rear of the 911-model, estimated to be worth less than $40,000 by experts, was still on fire even after 20 minutes of fire-fighting."
- Driver walks away from burning car, Page 3, The Straits Times, January 28, 2004.

HYUNDAI MATRIX WILDLY POPULAR - BUT STILL NASTY
top-selling mini-MPV sold over four thousand units last year - three seen in Chuan Park. success attributed to low cost, in turn the result of the Korean [lack of] quality.

CAR UK's GBU Review

For Is it an MPV?
Against Or a mutated hatchback?
Sum up Priced within special-offer Picasso Territory

rating: 2/5 stars

COUNTLESS SINGAPOREANS CONNED BY LURE OF TOYOTA COROLLA ALTIS
wake up, people. this Thai-built middle-cheapo-class sedan was introduced in Malaysia and Thailand at exactly the same time as the previous Corolla. Borneo Motors/Toyota just assumed that Singaporeans would assume that something must be new, if they haven't seen it before. and it looks like they were right.

GOOD BYE, SEDAN?
from The Straits Times, an article reporting on the absolutely fascinating trend of sedans moving out of the norm, and monospace-design cars moving in.

Newlyweds Calvin Chua, 26 and Jolene, 24, have just booked a Mazda2 hatchback. Mr Chia, an RSAF specialist, said: "I like the way it looks, and its versatility. If you need more space, you just fold the rear seats flat or forward.

"And it has a lot of space. I'm 1.84m and I have no problem with the headroom."

He did not pick a sedan because it was "conventional".

smart idea, you bright spark. but in five years, won't MPV and hatchbacks become the convention? then sedans will become unconventional. then... oh, no. poor Mr Chia has lost his point.

CREATIVE IN MICROSOFT'S GOOD BOOKS - MUCH AKIN TO BEING FRIENDS WITH DEVIL
i have nothing to say about this one. except that the Creative Zen actually looks pretty good, but the whole flaunt-the-Microsoft-nod thing puts me off.

piss off, world. i'm in a mood.

"take, take all you need
and i`ll compensate your greed
with broken hearts
sell, i`ll sell your memories, for 15 pounds per year
but just the good days

say, it'll make you insane
and it's bending the truth
you're to blame
for all the life that you'll lose and
you watch this space
and i'm going all the way
and be my slave to the grave
i'm a priest god never paid

hope, i hope you've seen the light
coz no one really cares
they're just pretending
sell, i`ll sell your memories, for 15 pounds per year
but you can keep the bad days

say, it'll make you insane
and im bending the truth
you're to blame
for all the life that you'll lose and
you watch this space
and i'm going all the way
and be my slave to the grave
i'm the priest god never paid"

- "The Small Print", Muse

fuck off, mr lunar new year.

i'm sick again. i'm allergic to lunar new year, i'm sure of it. it's not some bug that goes around 'that time of year'. LNY is in january this year for fuck's sake. my nose is running, my head's throbbing, my ear's aching, my eyes're itching.

i put Coldplay on at our "reunion" dinner [my father's in PNG. at least the third one he's missed]. i don't think it went down very well, because it got switched to that Kelly Clarkson broad's music halfway through. i don't see how anyone can possibly be Thankful for that record.

visitations later in the morning. ergh.

my Palm's in for service. my Sony Ericsson's on the blink [my Ericsson gave out some time ago, it was my fault though], my CD Walkman's broken.

i feel like crap now. and i missed going back to school because i found out that Victoria School ended at 10 AM, at 11 AM. un-fucking-believable. five years straight they end past noon, now i'm not attending and they end at 10?!

but of course it was too late by the time i found out. i had another half-hour before i would get to school [i guessed that everyone would be long gone by then] and i still had three more stops to make before five PM [errands ]. so i gave up and gave in.

in any case, the only teachers i would have looked up were Mr Hazrin, Mr Khoo, Ms Ernie, Mr Anuar and Mrs Raj. so if you're reading this [tres unlikely], hello.

and i've just realized that it is most likely none of the five people mentioned above hold lunar new year very close to their heart [except for Mr Khoo maybe, but if he does i will be sorely disappointed].

when's the fourth season of Gilmore Girls going to get here? i hate you, MediaCorp.

"Come on, oh my star is fading
And I see no chance of release
I know I'm dead on the surface
But I am screaming underneath

And time is on your side
It's on your side now
Not pushing you down
And all around, no
It's no cause for concern

Stuck on the end of this ball and chain
And I'm on my way back down again
Stood on a bridge, tied to a noose
Sick to the stomach
You can say what you mean
But it won't change a thing
I'm sick of our secrets
Stood on the edge, tied to a noose
You came along and you cut me loose
You came along and you cut me loose
You came along and you cut me"

- "Amsterdam", Coldplay

money is a good thing, only those without it complain' - Adam First, Wave 103 FM

i've just finished indexing my tapes of the second season of Gilmore Girls [snide remarks to me direct, please, they won't do much good being heard by your monitor]. it took way longer than expected. now the mammoth task of re-recording them onto tapes that go "gilmore girls 0201-0203", rather than "ally mcbeal 0521[?], gilmore girls 0222, dharma & greg [unknown]. etc, etc". you get the drift, i hope. but i will not be cutting out the ads. not just because i'm an lazy arse, but also because three-year-old ads can be interesting and even thought-provoking. [plus, if i ever enter the ad industry like i half-intend to, they'll come in handy].

for example: i spied a Deuter ad on one of the Gilmore tapes. what's happened to Deuter? it's been tossed aside in favour of Crumpler. so pooh-pooh and poppycock to those who claimed that their Deuter was the last bag they will ever buy. ten-to-one they've a Crumpler in place of it now. and pooh-pooh/poppycock, too, to those who claim that their Crumpler will be the last bag they'll ever buy. we'll see in three years, buster.

i'll stick with my very, very old Nike messenger bag [recently returned to me after my sister obtained a Topshop graffiti-print bag], thank you.

i am wanting an iBook SE [the old clamshell ones, except the SE comes in graphite].

Cons:
-costs $500 second-hand [without a new battery to replace the worn-out one that comes with it]
-its LCD goes up to a maximum of 800x600 pixels
-mono speaker [note that that's a singular noun]
-only one USB port
-only 366MHz [supposedly OK for an Apple. anw it's only $500]
-128MB RAM [enough, but not quite enough]
-i do not have $500

Pros:
-i checked, finally, and MSN Messenger for Mac DOES have most of the features of the Windows version
-finally MY own PC for MY own use
-it comes with OS X Panther, and a carrying case
-i will FINALLY have a Mac
-i will have something to take notes on if i go to JC/Poly

i NEED to find work. i'm broke. and i owe pat money [although that itself is a result of my family members owning me money].

"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither wildly, they slip away
Across the universe

Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me

Jai guru de va om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world"

- "Across The Universe", Fiona Apple

fucking hell

my brother is a complete, fucking, no-holds-barred fucktard of a retard. the bloody fool dangled my School Of Rock ticket stubs out the window, and when i tried to grab them back, dropped them. the instant my face contorted into that i-am-now-considering-a-jail-sentence-for-manslaughter look, he immediately went all 'you scratched my thumb, that's why i let go ...' fucking PSLE-171-T-Score-idiot. and, God, i hate those immediate justifications my father's genes gave us.

yes, i keep shit like ticket stubs. do not ask me why. i feel not even my mother has the right to question me on that, so sod-the-bloody-fuck off. that means you too, samantha.

and! i missed the Wong Li-lin gotcha gag. argh! argh-argh-argh!

"99 Kriegsminister
Streichholz und Benzinkanister
Hielten sich fuer schlaue Leute
Witterten schon fette Beute
Riefen: Krieg und wollten Macht
Mann, wer haette das gedacht
Dass es einmal soweit kommt
Wegen 99 Luftballons"

- "99 Red Balloons", Goldfinger

the singapore short story project

sitting on the covered toilet bowl, crying my heart out, i realized that if i stayed here and cried for another week, it was unlikely that anyone outside of those who live with me would notice.

it was equally unlikely that the Ericsson lying just a few paces away would ring while i was sitting there, with me having to answer the phone in sobs, the person on the other end asking me if everything's ok. because no one ever calls.

the calendar outside read that it was the fourth day of the twelfth month. one wonders why arguments like this don't happen more often, considering the situation. but it's hell nowadays, and anniversaries, whatever they commemorate, must not mean anything anymore if this kind of shit could happen, with frank disregard for the anniversary that just preceded it. and all over a stolen bicycle.

wake up, starfuck. no-one's going to care. clean up and get the fuck out of the bloody bathroom.

i wrote the above last year. tell me what you think of it. if i become a writer one day, i will fit these paragraphs into one of my books.

i feel absolutely sucky. the number of friends i have [loosely defined as those i see on the MSN Messenger Service regularly and can engage in witty banter with without it feeling weird, as the normal definition if used here will leave me more-or-less friendless. thanks a fat lot, Friendster.] can be counted on the number of fingers i have, possibly with enough fingers left over to fit in my immediate family members.

the last time i saw/went out with human beings outside of my family was mosh.04. the last time before that was my birthday. and the last time before that was the PAE briefing.

and now that almost everyone else has some sort of tertiary institution to head off to on weekdays, i'm left alone at home on said weekdays. the only people i know who aren't going anywhere are Pat and Dax. those who are are Matt [NJC], Xuan [ACJC], Kenneth [Unknown - haven't asked yet, really should soon], etc, even Nick Tan [YJC].

you can only talk about so much with the JC-goers, after all. after asking them how their first day was, you quickly run out of conversation pieces. it's not like you're in the same room and can go 'is that a Nokia Fun Camera?' or 'he's trying to speak French, but je suis means "i am", actually' [goodness knows i already struggle whilst such conversation pieces are right in my face]. you start to wonder if it's all becoming slightly strained, if you should give up.

i've fallen out of the rat race, and it's moving on like i wasn't even there.

i miss school. it gave me somewhere to go every Monday morning. it made me see other human beings and decide if i wanted to attempt a hook-up. it would ironically appear that regimentation is what i crave now, going to school at 6, spending the day raving about other human beings, coming back at 3.

what really, really sucks is that even if i somehow, magically/miraculously woke up tomorrow and discovered that it was really Thursday, 2nd January 2003 and i could go back to Geylang Bahru Lane and take 2003 all over again, i likely would have done the same thing. shunning the person/people that tried to make friends with me, acting the arsehole/bitch, and flunking out term after term. then would come the year end, my seventeenth anniversary of life on Earth, and i would be back here, missing my life in school and the potential friends, and trying desperately to cling/clutch on to half-friends who are leaving my world, with only Two Weeks' Notice.

wake up, starfuck. no JC's going to accept someone with 35.2 points, and you'd better pray hard that you even score within 10 points of polytechnic entry. you've lost it. clean up and move on.

"There is no comprehension
There is real isolation
There is so much destruction
What I want is a celebration

And I know I can feel bad
When I get in a bad mood
And the world can look so sad
Only you make me feel good

I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin

I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin

And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love intention
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel"

- "Love Profusion", Madonna

a good way to go deaf

mosh.04 rocked.

it may not all have been my kind of thing, but it sure as hell started on an excellent note.

but i'm now feeling very guilty for abandoning the mosh crew after arriving at Newton Circle Food Center for supper. i think i snapped when some BBQ stingray tout mistook the three microphone stands i was lugging for a video tripod and mouthed off about us being some sort of project trying to capture the last few hours of 2003 [ordinarily i would have been slightly flattered, but it sounded too much like something my father would have said].

i just suddenly felt very, very tired, and the combination of no sleep, alcohol, no food and Starbucks coffee just kicked in. i decided it was best to flee the scene before i made one.

besides, if xuan's place turned out to be more Yio Chu Kang than Serangoon, i wouldn't have the cab fare left after supper.

i guess it's no use brooding about not sticking it out now, but it appears xuan's place really is walking distance away from my place. shame on me. i mean, eventually i will need to overcome this allergy to the human race of mine. maybe new year's wasn't the best time to try it out.

and i must have come home really looking down dump-wise. everyone knew not to wish me a happy new year.

apologies all round. happy new year.

"Oh no, pop is dead, long live pop
It died an ugly death by back-catalogue
And now you know it gets you nowhere
And now you know, you realize

Oh no, pop is dead, it just gave up
We raised the dead but they won't stand up
And radio has salmonella
And now you know you're gonna die

He left this message for us

So what pop is dead, it's no great loss
So many facelifts, his face flew off
The emperor really has no clothes on
And his skin is peeling off

Oh no, pop is dead, long live pop,
One final line of coke to jack him off
Jack him off

He left this message for us
He left this message for us

He's dead, He's dead, Pop is dead
He's dead, He's dead, Pop is dead
He's dead, He's dead, Pop is dead"

- "Pop Is Dead", Radiohead

what i want is an explanation

mosh.04 is in three days. i've got to get a move on, haven't i?

i have finagled three microphone stands from the victoria school audio visual department, and will try to finagle a mixer out of them as well. but the finagling must end soon, if it doth not it shall beth too lateth.

so. why am i going to mosh.04?

one - basically i will be the cable guy. and i kind of like that.

two - would i rather "chaperone" my sister on another one of her whims, or stay at home and surf?

three - just in case i never see this lot again

four - i've never been to a real party before

and number four's true. unless you count lamo birthday parties [i don't], mucking around someone's multi-million-dollar mansion for hours and days, when my mother dragged me into a discotheque, and lamo parties in school [again, i don't].

Throw ’em a fake and a finagle/They’ll never know you’re just a bagel/Razzle dazzle ’em/And they’ll beg you for more!/Give ’em the old razzle dazzle/Razzle dazzle ’em/Back since the days of old methuselah/Everyone loves the big bamboozler

i've reworded some carols to suit me. i know it's past christmas, but no-one really cared anyway, so piss off.

Oh christmas tree, oh christmas tree
why is my fa-ther still here?

deck the halls with boughs of holly,
fa-lalalala-la-la-la-la
send father back to new guinea,
fa-lalalala-la-la-la-la

jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way
oh, what fun it'll be to see my phone again, hey!

Nokia seems to have been taken out of Minority Report at the last minute. whilst watching a DVD copy at my aunt's place on christmas day [amongst brats running about whirling and blowing on noisemakers] i looked out for all the product placements and ads, be it for real products or otherwise. Lexus, Bvlgari, Guinness, but no Nokia!

surprising, considering the whole hoo-hah they had when Minority Report came out. the whole tie-in with the 7650 and the whole 'look into the future' thing with the plastic prop they used as a future phone in the movie.

but, they must have cut funding at the last minute or something. the phones used in the movie are now unrecognizable as any particular model, save for modified-3650 used in the advertisement-assault corridor scene. if you look closely you'll see 'connecting people' zooming past the same screen that had the modified-3650 spinning about.

but no Nokia logo. ha!

"There are too many questions
There is not one solution
There is no resurrection
There is so much confusion
And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love vibration
You make me feel
You make it shine

There are too many options
There is no consolation
I have lost my illusions
What I want is an explanation

And the love profusion
You make me feel
You make me know
And the love direction
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel
You make me shine
You make me feel

I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin
I got you under my skin

There is no comprehension
There is real isolation
There is so much destruction
What I want is a celebration

And I know I can feel bad
When I get in a bad mood
And the world can look so sad
Only you make me feel good"

- "Love Profusion", Madonna

insomnia

i've taken to not sleeping. meaning, for a day, i stay awake through the morning [i consider 12 AM to 12 PM the morning] and go about the rest of the next day feeling hung over.

why? this time it's because i slept through going to my sister's collection of her posting results. slept through meaning i was in bed, possibly snoring, when i was supposed to be going with her.

tomorrow i have been decreed to be the one accompanying her to her posted school [serangoon garden secondary, which i have thus far not heard of] to register and get appeal forms.

hence i came to the conclusion: if i do not sleep, i will not have a problem waking.

as Gustav Graves said in Die Another Day: "There'll be plenty of time for sleep when you're dead."

i'll be ok, so long i have my coffee and my panadol.

i wish i were in Laos too. however rough it is, it'll be a real vacation from home, unlike the the KL trip i just had.

oh. and i've just noticed that i've been forgetting to add the day of the week in a few of my previous posts. hmm.

"becasue we can can-can!"

- "Because We Can", Fatboy Slim

twelve-fifty-one, seven-thirty, fourteen-fifty-nine.

it's seven-sodding-thirty in the bloody morning.

i don't know why i am awake.

i hate my father, still.

he "helped himself" to cash from my wallet two days ago.

i eagerly await his return to Papua New Guinea.

and also the return of my SIM to me.

i am on what i expect to be the first of three cups of coffee.

i have sod-all to do right now.

someone help me.

please?

"Talk to me now I'm older
Your friends'll do 'cause I told her
Friday night's a bit lonely
Change your plans and then phone me

We could go and get forties
Fuck going to that party
Oh really, your folks are away now?
Alright, let's go
You convinced me

12:51 is the time my voice
found the words I sought
Is it this stage I want?
The world is shutting up for us
Oh we were tense for sure
But we was confident

Kiss me now that I'm older
I won't try to control you
Friday night's a bit lonely
Take it slow but don't warn me

We'd go out and get forties
Then we'd go to some party
Oh really, your folks are away now?
Alright I'm coming
I'll be right there"

- "12:51", The Strokes

mister cellophane

Chicago makes even Orchard Road seem magic.

i'm still waiting for it to feel like it's really my birthday, or at least like it really was just a few days ago.

i'm not sure if going out to watch Love Actually with matt, pat, vin, dax and xuan made it better or worse.

my moron of a father makes his return to Singapore today.

tomorrow, i shall be disconnected from Singapore's GSM network by his equally useless Nokia 8910.

don't call me, unless you'd like to deal with him, with just one more brain what a half-wit he'd be.

feel free to text me though. he doesn't know what SMS is.

"A human being's made of more than air
With all that bulk you're bound to see him there
Unless that human being next to you
Is unimpressive, undistinguished
You
Know
Who. . .

Shoulda been my name
Mister cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there

I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister cellophane

'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
Never even know I'm there

I hope I haven't taken up too much of your time"

- "Mister Cellophane", John C Reilly

the seventeenth anniversary

today marks the seventeeth anniversary of my popping out of my mother's uterus in 1986.

bon anniversaire pour moi.

"The French are glad to die for love

A kiss on the hand
Maybe quite continental
But diamonds are a girl's best friend

A kiss may be grand
But it won't pay the rental
On your humble flat or
Help you feed your *um* pussy cat

Men grow cold as girls grow old
And we all lose our charms in the end
But square cut or pear shaped
These rocks don't lose their shape
Diamonds are a girl's best friend"

- "Sparkling Diamonds", Nicole Kidman

the tan family goes to SITEX

MOTHER TAN: [points towards iBook on display at the Apple stand] That one iPod, har?

APPLE-HIRED ASSISTANT: [excitedly] Yes!

i have lost quite a bit of hope that one day Apple will re-educate the world and take over the Wintel universe, considering the kind of hired help they get for shindigs like SITEX, even if it's temp staff.

and, no, MOTHER TAN isn't my mother. my surname is Khoo. less common than the dime-a-dozen Tan. my mom actually knows what an iPod is and looks like, though her eyebrows shot past her forehead and brushed the cheap fabric ceiling of our Suzuki Swift GL when i told her that it costs eight hundred dollars.

turns out the Saab i thought was a new addition to Chuan Park wasn't. it's disappeared, though i'm not sure when. however, it would appear that someone's bought a black Hyundai Tuscani, the Korean excuse for a coupe, and parked it next to the resident lesbians' black Toyota MR2 roadster. très original.

un jour et compte

"I would die for you
I would die for you
I've been dying just to feel you by my side
To know that you're mine

I would cry for you
I would cry for you
I will wash away your pain with all my tears
And drown your fear

I will pray for you
I will pray for you
I would sell my soul for some thing pure and true
Someone like you

See your face every place that I walk in
Hear your voice every time I’m talking
You will believe in me
And I will never be ignored"

- "#1 Crush", Garbage

watching Chicago is much more difficult than i'd imagined.

mariah, james and andrew carey.

my VCD copy of Chicago skips like crazy. i thought i could get by on just the audio track after Roxie Hart started dancing like a derivsh on drugs, jumping all over the wide expanse of my LCD. then the audio track screwed up as well. it thought it was the cheap-ish Wearnes DVD player, but then i remembered exactly what kind of VCD it was. the bloody thing left me hanging after Cell Block Tango.

time to call in DVD-loaning favours.

if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, i betcha you'd have done the same.

PAE briefing tomorrow. i don't know what the hell i'm going for, except maybe to wait for the party to be over.

daria, helen, jake and quinn morgendoffer.

"Lord knows he ain't got the smarts

Now he's shot off his trap
I can't stand that sap

Look at him go
Rattin' on me
With just one more brain
What a half-wit he'd be

If they string me up
Well, I'll know who brought the twine

That scummy,
Crummy ,
Dummy,
Hubby of mine"

- "Funny Honey", Rene Zelleweger

.oO

Trying hard to fit among you
Floating out to wonderland
Unprotected
God I'm pregnant
Damn the consequences

When I grow up
I'll be stable
When I grow up
I'll turn the tables

Blood and blisters
On my fingers
Chaos rules when we're apart
Watch my temper
I go mental
I'll try to be gentle

When I grow up
I'll be stable
When I grow up
I'll turn the tables

- "When I Grow Up", Garbage

Welcome to Chuan Park.

I HATE MY IDIOT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, CHEATING, LYING, ARSEHOLE OF A FATHER.

Welcome to Chuan Park.

Please beware of the sexually perverse and the outbreak of Dengue Fever [DF]. For your information, your family's bikes have already been stolen. Also, to avoid the frequent need to re-acclimatize to noise pollution, the following construction projects in the immediate vinicity will be carried out in overlapping time frames:

Nanyang Junior College,
Amaranda Gardens Condominium,
Goldenhill Park Condominium,
Lorong Chuan Station, Circle Line Stage 3.

We expect the first three projects to complete end-2003 or early 2004, after which the construction of Lorong Chuan Station will continue, until the year 2010.

The schedule for the construction company [Sato Kogyo (S) Pte. Ltd.] to invade your homes and take photographs of your unit to 'record the condition of buildings in the vicinity of the new MRT station prior to the start of construction works.' is already in your mailbox.

We wish you a plesant stay in Chuan Park.

what kind of IDIOT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, CHEATING, LYING, ARSEHOLE takes a look at the assorted Nissan Cefiros and Toyota Corollas here and decides that this is a decent place?

MY IDIOT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, CHEATING, LYING, ARSEHOLE OF A FATHER.

the same fucking IDIOT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, CHEATING, LYING, ARSEHOLE OF A FATHER that gambled and spent enough money away to have to sell, collectively:

one BMW 520i Individual,
one Nissan NX Coupe,
one Mazda 323 Astina,
one Saab 9000CD,
and one 5-room, 20th storey, city view, Toa Payoh HDB apartment

total value? estimated to be roughly two million singapore dollars.

i come home today, after bombing all over my Geography Paper Two, to find my bike gone. the chain and lock was on the ground, chain in pieces.

this place is fucked up. my IDIOT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, CHEATING, LYING, ARSEHOLE OF A FATHER's idea of a peaceful, decent place. and all this because the IDIOT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, CHEATING, LYING, ARSEHOLE needed to make a blatant statement of wealth and hence decided a HDB apartment is beneath him.

and he's coming back this week, supposedly. i say supposedly because he's been 'coming back' for months on end since June.

there are HDB estates safer than this cesspool of desperate thieves and perverts.

I HATE MY IDIOT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, CHEATING, LYING, ARSEHOLE OF A FATHER, AND I HATE THE GENERAL SHITLOAD OF SINGAPORE'S POPULATION THAT OCCUPIES THIS DUMP.

THE LOT OF YOU CAN GO FUCK THE FUCKING FUCK OFF.

and now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.

"I can't use what I can't abuse
And I can't stop when it comes to you

You burned me out but I'm back at your door
Like Joan of Arc coming back for more

I nearly died
I nearly died
I nearly died

I came to cut you up
I came to knock you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
I cam to shut you up
I came to drag you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
And break your soul apart

You burn and burn to get under my skin
You've gone too far now I won't give in
You crucified me but I'm back in your bed
Like Jesus Christ coming back from the dead

I nearly died
I nearly died
I nearly died

I came to knock you up
I came to cut you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
I came to rip you up
I came to shut you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
Break your soul apart

I nearly died
I nearly died
I nearly died

I came to cut you up
I came to knock you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
I came to shut you up
I came to suck you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
Tear your little world apart
Tear your little world apart
And break your soul apart

I can't stop when it comes to you
I can't stop when it comes to you
When it comes to you
When it comes to you"

- "Vow", Garbage

you think that's where it's at, but is that where it's supposed to be?

if you feel like you've seen read what you're about to read somewhere else before, it's because you have: what happens if something happens to your O Level examination paper?

i've been pondering this for some time now, and it suddenly became a lot more real when there was a mix-up in the collection of the Cheenese Paper Two on Friday - the same few teachers that didn't know how to operate the barcode scanners [that's what Aloyisus, the technician, was there for] collected Paper Two in a fashion that caused them to count, recount, check with the students, ensure that out papers were collected by the teacher with the bunned-up hair, count again, before letting us go whilst still fussing over the large stacks of paper.

what happens if Pat, the other people down the row and i have had their papers misplaced? anarchy at OneNorth?

i'm getting this strange feeling in my gut and in my head - i'm getting nowhere, and am going nowhere. what am i studying for? i can't answer questions pertaining to my future career or even what course i want to take in Poly, why i don't want to go to JC, etc. i'm a nowhere man, making my nowhere plans, to go nowhere.

i haven't, for example, decided that i want to become an academic driving my Mercedes-Benz E200 to and from NUS back/from a restored shophouse along Upper East Coast Road.

what happened to the me that wanted to become an airline pilot, driving a rosso barchetta 1987 Ferrari F40 and living in whichever building took over Shaik Maderseah Lane? I think he died when the lane was demolished.

what happened to the me that wanted to drive a metallic grey 2002 Saab 9-5 Aero Sportswagon, communting between my apartment at the Paterson Edge and my law office in Shenton Way? something happened last year. died in a car crash, i think. the offending cars seemed to be a red Suzuki Swift GL and a silver Hyundai World Coupe.....

what happened to the me that wanted to drive a matt black 1986 Saab 900S Cabriolet, working as a creative in an ad agency, copywriting [if that's the term] on my 15" Apple PowerBook G4 in Soho, London?

"Now, you sure you're not getting your hopes up?"

"'Course I am, that's what hopes're for."

unlike the masses, i dread the day the O Levels are over. that's when my fate is sealed, though i haven't a clue what kind of fate i want.

i've a little less than a week left. i seriously need help with my Elective History. something's gone wrong with my Geography. no use crying over spilt milk. they always say to picture something you really, really want at the end. how does that work out if you don't know what you want, or no longer want anything?

"Hey... Jaded
You've got your mama's style
But you're yesterday's child to me
So Jaded
You think that's where it's at
But is that where it's supposed to be
You're gettin' it all over me
X-rated

My my baby blue
Yeah I been thinkin' 'bout you
My my baby blue
Yeah you're so Jaded
And I'm the one that Jaded you

Hey... Jaded
In all it's misery
It will always be what I love... and hated
And maybe take a ride to the other side
We're thinkin' of
We'll slip into the velvet glove
And be Jaded"

- "Jaded", Aerosmith

the philosophy of Froot Loops

i'm eating softly-toasted tuna, olive oil and butter sandwiches as i tap-and-drag this entry out on my Palm Tungsten T. being handy in the kitchen has its benefits.

i spent about three hours in the kitchen this evening, helping bake and juice up cookies, muffins, brownies, pies and lemonade for my youngest sister's charity shindig later today. it's supposed to be in the aid of the Straits Times Pocket Money Fund. i feel like i'm the parent here or something - this, like running around countless neighbourhoods and Popular Bookstores for my siblings' schoolbooks last December, seems to be going above-and-beyond the duties of a "big brother".

SAMARIA: "how much longer before the brownies ready?"

LELANIE: "you sitting there watching the oven, you cannot tell is it? i'm washing the dishes here you - ohmygod what is that smell?!"

SAMARIA: "what smell?"

LELANIE: [pulling brownie tin hurriedly out of the oven] "ohmygod, burnt already, you see lah!"

yes, Lelanie is our maid. don't laugh at her - she uses a Motorola E365, with intergrated VGA digital camera, polyphonic ringing tones and a 65, 536-color screen, my personal reccomendation to her.

why are all the good movies always rated R(A)? i want to watch Kill Bill. i want to watch the Spanish Apartment. pirated VCDs, here i come.

i recently discovered Froot Loops came in green as well. green?! what conceivable flavor is that? leaf-juice? i leave Froot Loops alone for a bit and they go wonkers. is there some sort of commitee that decides new cereal colors? which was the fool that decided green was good for Froot Loops?

maybe i should listen to those TV ads which state estatically that a particular is available at 'All Good Music Stores'. i couldn't find Absolution by Muse anywhere in Toa Payoh. ended up buying Parachutes by Coldplay first. took me another few days to decide i wanted to commute to the 'Edge' at Parco Bugis Junction to buy Absolution. at least, having heard the CD, it was worth it.

"change everything you are
and everything you were
your number has been called

fights and battles have begun
revenge will surely come
your hard times are ahead

best, you've got to be the best
you've got to change the world
and use this chance to be heard
your time is now

don't let yourself down
and don't let yourself go
your last chance has arrived"

- "Butterflies & Hurricanes", Muse

someone in Chuan Park bought a Saab

yes, it's true. imagine my shock. there exists one other person possessing good taste in Chuan Park. i haven't seen the Peugeot 607 or the Alfa Romeo 147 since goodness knows how long, so they've likely disappeared. this leaves the Saab as the only non-tasteless car in Chuan Park.

my mum just came home with hair dyed several shades lighter than before. even she admits she looks like an ah lian, but she's ok with it.

MOM: [over phone to friend] "aye! wait until you see me then call me ah lian ok! don't anyhow ah-lian-ah-lian-ah-lian jing song like that okay!"

my brother also has decided that he wants to dye his hair for the duration of the end of year vacation. my mom is okay with that as well. what am i to do?

xuan's birthday came around on friday. here's a sampling of the gifts he got: a baseball bat, a protein shake consisting of 50 grams protein, and whipped cream down his underpants. the whipped cream didn't go so well, as it was likely very old; there was mold all over the cover and nozzle. plus, they broke the nozzle in the process of trying to hold him down for the kill.

that was after going for lunch with xuan and co. originally the plan was Thai Express, but when we got there it was still closed, hence we spent some time slumming it at Siglap Center McDonald's [i'm loving it!] and buying McMuffins either to justify/legalize our taking up three tables or to stave off hunger. later, we decided to just eat at the yong tau foo store near Siglap Center.

having gone through the period where my mother sold ready-to-cook yong tau foo at the Holland Village Wet Market, i've had enough yong tau foo to bust three-lifetimes' yong tau foo quotas. [believe it or not this was one of the better periods of my life. we even had a Saab 9000CD] but, to avoid being a whiny bitch on someone else's birthday, i went along with it.

trying hard to remember what i liked and what i didn't [actually what i didn't tend to throw up after eating], i grabbed five or six pieces to add to the collective plates, in case they favored the kinds of yong tau foo i'd rather not encounter again.

so imagine my suprise when we sat down to four large plates piled high with yong tau foo. each plate roughly the size of a typical QWERTY keyboard. and the auntie [i assume] running the place was kind enough to charge us a measly $5.50 per person, because it was xuan's birthday, and even quipped if we dared to come back again.

and, yes, i fell asleep during the O Level Cheenese Paper Two later on because i was too full.

apparently he will also be on the receiving end of a likely obscene t shirt on monday, for which i have contributed printing suggestions. wonder what the end result'll be.

makes me wonder what i'm going to do for my birthday, in twenty-five days.

"i think i'm drowning
asphyxiated
i wanna break this spell
that you've created

you're something beautiful
a contradiction
i wanna play the game
i wan't the friction

you will be the death of me
you will be the death of me

bury it
i won't let you bury it
i won't let you smother it
i won't let you murder it

our time is running out
our time is running out
you can't push it underground
you can't stop it screaming out"

- "Time Is Running Out", Muse

an incident involving an accident, automobile or otherwise

it's 10:45 AM.

my first O Level exam [barring the cheenese one] begins in one hour and forty-five minutes.

i cannot for the life of me find my entry proof.

my identification is safely tucked away in the family safe, to which i have no access.

isn't life interesting?

"Do we look like a car crash?
Baby tell me it ain't true
Cause if we look like a car crash
I don't know what the hell I'd do"

- "Car Crash", The Thrills

it's a drag, i know it's hard, but you're tearing her apart

breaking news: the world has has gone off its rocker.

oh, have we done that story already?

well, it has, anyway. people are:
-assasinating other people in their dreams [please do not tell me that 'white family sedan' was a Nissan Sunny. i WILL freak out],
-really, really, really missing the non-hallowed, brand-spanking new, smelling-like-money halls of Victoria School,

plus:
-my entire 'family' [mother, brother, sister, sister] is watching Harry Potter & The Scorcerer's Stone on HBO [of which my mother argued three months' free subscription out of StarHub CableTV], and they are loving it,
-no-one understands the brilliance of British literature [which is, incidentally, about all i'm reading now],
-the fucking irritating 'chihuahua' and 'i'm lovin' it' ads are still playing,
-people left-and-right are harping on about the Nokia N-Gage, but [thankfully] next-to-no-one is actually buying it,
-the next step in Sony Ericsson's Nokian-ness has been realized: the T630 is a T610 in new clothes and the TFT [as opposed to STN] screen is about all the major improvement over the T610
*there are people in this world naïve enough to believe that Hwa Chong Junior College would provide a shuttle bus service to Raffles Junior College
*there are also people in this world naïve enough to believe that giving out NeWater, stale copies of Seventeen and rocks with 'Geography' emblazoned in glitter on it will convince or even encourage other people to join their college/subject/cause
-i need a camera, now. later, it won't be of use any more

please note that points marked with an asterisk were gleaned from reading someone else's blog. i am not the kind of person who goes to an open house, be it a junior college's or otherwise. if you seriously thought i was there, schelping amogst the sad folk who've entered said college and had their hopes, dreams and preconceptions smashed AND the pre-college people who still have and hold the above-mentioned hopes, dreams and preconceptions, Who Are You And What Are You Doing Reading My Blog?

there is a reason why Nicholas Tan is the sole being of my acquaintance who isn't family and yet has my home phone number. my idiot of a brother gave it out to him. why? because he harrased my brother on his mobile, and the only reason why nicholas has my brother's mobile number is because i had to use his line when my own line got cut off, because my mother refused to pay my father's $600 worth of overseas calls on my line.

Vital Information For Your Everyday Life: when someone either repeatedly doesn't answer his mobile or continually presses the NO button on his Ericsson, hence rejecting your call, he Really, Really, Really doesn't want to talk to you. if you think that obtaining his home number and bagering him on that end will assist your effort to no end, then you're not that bright, are you?

it's the 2003 GCE 'O' Level' Physics Practical Examination tomorrow.

no, it hasn't set in yet.

yes, i will be like that for years to come.

"I'm afraid that there's much to be afraid of
Here today
And gone tomorrow
Don't end up in the gutter
Just like the one before
You're just the same
Such a loser

One mistake's all it takes
And your life has come undone
Walk away 'cause you're breaking up the girl
It's a drag
I know it's hard
But you're tearing her apart
Walk away 'cause you're breaking up the girl"

- "Breaking Up The Girl", Garbage

bad chihuahua. bad, bad chihuahua.

this entry took so long to get to print because, right after writing it, i thumbed through my archives and didn't feel like posting it anymore. however, now, unlike then, i'm on yet another Starbucks Double-Shot Expresso.

news to me:

- Matt watches soccer
- 'chihuahua' is supposedly a legitimate basis on which to write a song, and following that, an entire ad campaign for a world-renowned and maybe respected brand of cola
- Jessica Simpson can't differentiate chicken and fish, and wonders which catergory tuna falls under
- Lene Nystrom likes Linkin Park and names them as part of her inspiration
- Hillary Duff supposedly can sing
+ Shirley Manson will give away an award at the MTV European Music Awards
- but Christina Aguilera will be hosting it
- Chris Martin is dating Gywneth Paltrow
-- she supposedly will sing on Coldplay's third album
+ MTV Whatever Things actually has some rather good gags
- but they play some rather crappy videos in between
+ Nokia realizes its mistake with the oddly-keypadded 3650 and is releasing the new 3660 with a new 65 536-color screen and a normal keypad
- but the new keypad is squeezed back into the same circular shape and thus looks even worse
-- Nokia's new 7600 is a freak of a teardrop/leaf/coaster/slice of bread 3G phone
+ it's also a good means with which to laugh at Nokia


as above: the world has gone off its rocker. matt and pat have had some rift form between them, but continue to horse around in class, one chasing the other, holding hands, etc. i suspect it's all a farce, but whether it's for fooling the general public or fooling themselves is beyond me.

reading the old entries in my blog makes me wanna cry. that's partly why the link to the archives still read 'coming soon' for now - i can't seem to get them organized, re-reading instead of sorting them. aren't you supposed to look back at old diary/journal/blog entries and laugh?

i have betrayed my Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf loyalty and discovered the Starbucks Double Shot Expresso. five bucks of coffee squeezed into a small, dinky, little plastic cup, basically prescription-free, temporary prozac. if you don't believe me there are people who were at the post-prelim-pre-O-Level Physics Practial that have witnessed its effects.

Happy Aaron: As Rare As A Garbage Fan In Singapore

i just went to see my grandfather today [Lim side], the first time since his bypass operation. he looked frail, old and skinny. the scars of his operation looked painful. it's good he made it, after weeks of the ICU, but is he really happy to be? his blood sugar levels have risen since, and he now needs insulin injections three times daily, which my maid travels out to Ang Mo Kio for, because my uncle and aunt-in-law work, and my grandmother isn't really the best person to be giving away insulin injections. plus my maid is a trained nurse [or nurse's aide. can't remember which].

on the Khoo side of the family, my other grandfather [92 years old as of Febuary], is not in the pink of health either. having slipped and fallen recently, his left arm is still in a sling, and he can just barely feed himself. he really wants to see his favorite son, which happens to be my dear and loving father, and we haven't seen him since he returned from Cheena at the start of the SARS scare [roughly end-April/May].

if a repeat of what happened when my grandmother passed away occurs, this time i won't forgive him. years ago, when she was about to pass on, my first aunt called my mother to get us to go see him, but our dear father was doing [likely illegal/underhand/unscruplous] business in Malaysia. the second time she called, my father wasn't feeling well. when my father finally called them back, it was my second aunt [the handicapped one] who picked up, and she was kept in the dark because she's extremely emotional. so, my father was told that grandmother was fine. seeing no need to see his own mother if she didn't appear to be dying, the bastard fucked off to go do his own thing.

that night, my grandmother who had been sitting in her chair facing the door, waiting and hoping for her favorite son to show up, asked about my father. by then my first aunt was so angry with my father that he just told my grandmother not to wait for him; he's not coming.

that night, she passed away. when we were called and informed, my father whisked us away from our Shaik Madersah Lane to their Geylang Lorong 3 in the Mazda 323 Astina, arrived at the scene and promotly kneeled by my grandmother's side, making what i thought at that time was, and actually still do, a big show of crying and shouting, likely blaming my aunt for not telling him earlier.

the young primary-school me sat in silence on my aunt's bed in the same room, looking sadly at my grandmother's body. my three siblings, too young to understand the goings-on, nevertheless sat quietly next to me, looking out the window, up at the ceiling, down on the floor.

needless to say, my first aunt, whom my grandparents ignored [compared to the whims, money, BMWs and Porsches lavished on my father], and who had to find her own means of sending herself to England to study, but loved/loves them, never forgave my father, and, rightly, still hasn't.

i don't think my father's going to make it this time, either.

"He said I'm going to buy this place and see it go
Stand here beside my baby watch the orange glow
Some'll laugh and some just sit and cry
But you just sit down there and you wonder why
So I'm going to buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
And I'm going to buy this place, that's what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

And honey
All the movements you're starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without a trace
And they call as they beckon you on
They said start as you mean to go on
As you mean to go on, as you mean to go on

So meet me by the bridge, meet me by the lane
When am I going to see that pretty face again
Meet me on the road, meet me where I said
Blame it all upon
A rush of blood to the head"

- "A Rush Of Blood To The Head", Coldplay