i'm relieved and slightly happy tt daddy has decided to pay for my accommodation (on top of school fees). i am not delighted, however; tt was saturday.

it's very frustrating when no one seems to takes me seriously when i say i'm sick. not tt i'm expecting the world to give two shits, but when i get sick enough back out of dinner with good friends at the last minute, i don't apreciate it when they call me and try to get me to go. again and again. and again. like for fucks sake, which part of SICK don't you understand? they're not afraid to catch watever sickness it is i have, they say. ya sure.. maybe cos they're not fucking sickly. and they dont have to get up at 5.45 to go to work. and they dont have to take a cab back to the east. i hate it tt i can never get better by myself. i hate it tt i live on amoxycillin. and i hate my friends because they dont even bother to come to my place even when they're NOT sick.

:: Dosed - RHCP

i hate being sick. lay on lay on lay on lay on lay on lay on lay on lay on.

everytime an asthmatic assault (i got tired of getting asthma attacks so i thought a change of word would be quite refreshing. is it not?) hits me, i wonder if the next breath is my last. you know how you can't find things when you need them most? it's like tt when i think i'm dying and i try to think of all the better times this ailing body has experienced.

on the bright side, since i couldn't go to work i could stay home and pack my room with mummy's help instead of having to wake up at 5.25 just so i can get to work on time to be further irritated by parent volunteers. but actually, i like my job and it is a lot more enjoyable than all the mundane temp admin jobs i've had before. i'm gonna miss my librarians. boo hoo.

time for some Herbal Soup for the Sickly. laters.

Maybe low birth-rate isn't such a big problem, especially since most of the existing population has recently proved itself too dense for its own good.

how many pple can fit into a double decker 28? .. Ten. cos the pple inside are too fucking stupid to masuk dalam. bad enough tt they don't want to budge, but still can shamelessly block the stairs to the upper deck, where there were close to 15 empty seats. empty seats FOR WHAT?! PLAY MUSICAL CHAIRS IS IT?!!?

This morning i got on and pushed my way right to the back where i took the liberty to chide a pasir ris sec boy. wow.. lookie, isn't it spacious here... i mean, never mind tt pple in front are squished so tight they can barely breathe. by the way, how do you spell thickhead? ok so i didn't say tt, i just asked him to move in and gave a dirty look. half an hour into the ride, i shouted (very politely) at the pple in the middle to move in but they just turned to look then turned back into zombies. Look, is there really a need to say it again? how long will it take for the msg to permeate their skulls? and please excuuuuuse me if i don't speak Stupid. the poor driver already said it in english, malay and chinese (there usually aren't many indians on the bus who don't understand malay, so tamil wasn't necessary).

RRRRAAAAWWWWWRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!! Down with inconsiderate commuters!!

i'm nervous. he's frustrated. and we both could be dead meat. i hope to God we won't be.

went for the xray and medical today for my visa. now i'm done with all tt, i'm wishing harder than i'll ever wish to get my period. after having to unglamourously walk down the corridor carrying a cheap plastic cup half-filled with my pee, i gingerly handed my secretions to miss nurse/recept who in my mind didn't look like she fitted either designation. nothing wrong with her; she just doesn't look like a nurse. i'm 55pointsomething kg now. ah, put on 5 kg! i told the nurse-lady, and in response she emitted tt kind of sound pple make tt is supposed to resemble a laugh and is meant to effectively feign interest in watever it is they find less than appealing. the doctor also made this noise when i told him i triggered an epileptic fit by choking on a fishball.

then i sat down and grabbed a brochure to read. this one i got detailed the various "medical packages" offered by the clinic. and i found it quite strange tt the layout looked oddly similar to the x-course dinner menus for XX no. of pple tt you find on the tables of chinese restaurants. maybe the clinic was also getting into the season. but now thanks to them, every time i eat a course dinner, i will have vivid visions of peeing into a plastic cup with my name written on it (ooh.. personalised! how touching).

i'm looking through the testimonials on my defunct friendster account and wondering why everyone thought i was some little chirp who was all bout jokes and smiles and laughs. i guess tt is part of me but now the only testimonial i find most accurate now is the one in which sam dubs me 'pms queen'.

karin is right; i never really noticed it, but i've become crankier than my cranky self. like some old erm crank or something. before christmas, i went for penitential mass and told the priest i was rude to daddy and i curse all the time. "So what must you do?" the priest asked. Ah? said my blank face.

"so.. you must try to be a better person ah. don't curse so much and don't be rude."

Oh... like tt. ok then. so after 10 hail marys, i left and tried to catch a cab with zeh zeh outside church. Oi! stupid cab, never stop for us.. tsk why so bloody hot today. wah lau. i think i've really outdone myself.

for odd reasons, i woke up a few days ago fearing i was pregnant. then i chided myself: doesn't mean you played 'voice of mother mary' in the nativity play means you also can have immaculate conception ok. ok, boss.

when we come undone doo doo doo.

i wonder what would've happened if we HAD locked the door. no actually, i don't wonder; i'm pretty sure she would've have figured it anyway should she have discovered we locked the door. the only difference is tt we might've spared her the extremely disconcerting visual which hopefully - for the better of everyone - will not turn out to be so indelible, and we might also have spared ourselves the awkwardness of the positions we were in (haw haw! pun intended!) gwah gwah...

you know, i used to think i'd never have stories for the grandkids. well, now i do.

:: Lookin' Out My Back Door - ccr

christmas didn't really feel like christmas and the passing of the old yr didn't feel like it usually does. maybe something's trying to remind me tt things aren't gonna be so familiar anymore for the next few months. it was a good year, 2005. quite exciting: photojourn, lidong, cambodia, my longest temp job ever, lots of good food and erm.. getting fatter, among many things.

:: Whisper (last chance remix)- slovo

"COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON"

i don't get why pple can't just say merry belated christmas or something like tt. or at least come up with a short form for cccooommmppllimmeeeennttss oooffff ttthhhee seeeaaaasssooonn. see how long tt is? and it doesnt help tt i try and say it quickly everytime i meet another relative.

i'm gonna make my parents switch to skype. they insisted i add them on msn and then tecah them how to use it so they can talk to me in perth next time. and then yesterday mummy demanded to know "what's the meaning of this", this meaning my msn nickname. "what is meringue? hah? and what is this we are lovers?!"

tsk. meringue is lemon meringue pie and the rest are lyrics to a song i lke right now, maaaah...

of course it's also true tt my bf and i are lovers in our own rights, but mummy doesn't need to know tt of course. (protection is important, kids! hur hur)

finally got the christmas pageant over and done with. we ran into a shitload of glitches and other trippy stuff which is a bit annoying cos we practised so much. i also felt i sang better during the practices. microphones make me sound un-nice.

came across this while at work yesterday. haha so soo wicked.

had a really bad dream last night. good friend was over in my kitchen and i saw sores on her back and she looked uncomfortable. so i said wats tt and she cried and told me the doctors said she had blood lymphoma. i've never heard of blood lymphoma so i looked it up online. haven't found it yet but it sounds serious enough. i hope good friend does not really have watever disease it is. please, no.

i think i am slightly dyslexic. like when someone asks me type or write something with a letter a, i always type 4 and vice versa. and it'd not a typo error. when i'm thinking of number 6, i type out an S. sometimes i write P when i mean 9. maybe it's just the way my brain stores stuff. sometimes when i number things, and then i get distracted, my brain goes backwards and i start writing the remaining numbers in descending order. i think this is why it takes me so much effort to organise myself or do things like pack my room.

it's painfully quiet.



for the past 3 days, a bad spell. before tt, a not-bad spell which i can barely recall.

tonight as we stood at the dark alley at rowell rd, i glanced to my left and saw an ahpek-driven trishaw nonchalantly peddling a plumpish indian lady past us, dwn the lane perpendicular to the pathway on which we stood. quaint, i thought. 10 minutes later, as when we were making our way up tt lane, i spotted the same pair peddling towards and right past us on the right, in the exact same direction they came frm, their expressions as blasé as before. and so the night is as uncanny as the uneasiness that plagues me.

nanny's death anniversary yesterday left me disconcerted for reasons i don't think the other family members could fathom. so i spent most of my time looking stoned and watching clive in between. i don't like feeling left out and i don't like being ignored and i don't like having to keep quiet just because i have nothing refreshing to say. there was a time when i thought i'd never know what it feels like to experience disesteem. well, i guess now i have little reason to feel left out in this aspect.

i don't understand why sometimes operations in my head slow down to a chug---a-----chugg------ rate. i imagine it'd be something like a train tt just pulls up into a station but never really comes to a stop. the inertia festers and dissolves into a nagging air of malaise.

do you wonder what you will tell your children? i will tell them stories of pple i know whose lives are an epitome of drama (because as a youth, mummy was a little common in my actions, i would say).

i need these demons to go away.

i hate myself and i feel fat and ugly. i don't always feel like tt. just sometimes. it's not nice. you know how much i hate my face? i just realised i look like a fucking pig when i smile, did you know.

when lidong finishes his new course at changi, i'll be packing off to perth. if im in a crappy mood like i am now while i'm stuck in perth, i wonder wat i'll resort to. it'll be lonely without my baby. fucking period. fukcing face. how did i get like this.


yesterday they changed the venue for mummy's bday dinner and no one told me. went to novena and everyone else went to east coast lagoon. but God made me go there cos i had to help an old woman jay walk. she asked me if i wanted to eat with her but i said sorry i had dinner planned. maybe i shouldve walked back and ate with her after i found out curryleaf was closed and they were all at east coast. maybe i don't have to like myself. i dont think the pple i help really care bout how i look like. but somehow tt doesnt make me feel better. you know how some pple just have tt kind of face tt pple think is pretty? when they breakout or dress like crap, somehow pple still think they look good. i feel foolish for being so impertinent and so jealous and superficial. but i cant make this feeling go away. isnt tt the worst thing bout a high? the only way is back down or lower.