nowadays, all the new pple i meet, i seem to have met before. everyone's a familiar face and it's making me wonder whether i've seen all my world has to offer me. i'm itching for something new tt i've never experienced. if i can't get a better offer, i want the melt into my unconscious and never come out.

lately, i've been dying to line my eyes black, paint my nails deep maroon, wear 3$ shirts and sit at the corner of an old street. i long to look like i don't care. but i don't know where to start and i'm scared. i'm afraid of how it will affect pple i know. and since the last thing i want to do is add anymore distress to this aching ball of dirt we live on, i will remain inactive since it also reduces the effort for me.

yesterday, i felt i needed to do soemthing to make myself feel different if only for a day or two. i painted my nails a milk chocolate brown so tt when i was bored at work today, i could look hungrily at my badly painted nails (eye candy, if you please).

the hottest female engineer in SIAEC works near me. the keychain on her haversack says: Forget it, I'm out of your league.

at work today, i heard a form of malay i was never sure existed (till now, of course); i call it Bahasa Cheeeena. examples are maru (no, not badz-badz-maru the pri sch penguin, but rather, a word spposedly meaning embarrassed), machee-am and cherpak (i sppose this means 'quick'). did i mention tt they also chope tables at the staff canteen using tissue paper pkts? (of course must lah! wait serkahlee peeper take our tayber den how?). in a better light, at least all this is wat really sets s'pore apart. wat other country can dare to boast such idiosyncrasies? well done, PAP! hur hur.

i daydreamt the other day tt i will finally find my soulmate when i'm dead, lying on a table waiting for the fellas to cut me open so they can take my organs to donate. he will stand there amusing himself with his own reflection in the scalpel before holding it to my pucat skin. then he'd cut open my throat to remove the gulab jamun i had choked on and turn to tell his fellow worker how he much likes indian desserts too.

buying tissue is all i need sometimes. i stood in the sistic queue crying to myself cos it was a bad sunday. then with the last bit of money i had, i bought 4 packets of tissue frm 2 handicapped guys and i felt better suddenly.


listening to: New Slang (ost. garden state), the shins