How old are we really?

Nevermind that silly facebook quiz, who knows I might be an old woman in a 17 year old body. Or a chimp in humanoid form.

HAHA, celebrating Jasmine, Rebecca and Samuel's birthday made me realise one thing: While we (2009 17 year olds) were gloating about having passed the 16 hurdle (access to NC-16 movies yeah!), it appears to be um, not much of a big deal when Jas and Rebs are like, 18 this year.

Sure, as long as you're above 16 in Singapore, you can have consensual sex. 18, commercial sex. Not like I'm encouraging promiscuity or anything, but I guess being trusted with this responsibility makes some us feel all self-important. Like me getting my own laptop! Ho yeah! *cuddles laptop*

Anyway, besides feeling all grown-up and even the Man has given you a say over your own body, question is, being seen as old enough in the eyes of the law ... are we really as old as they would like us to think we are? Well, they've got to generalise. It's culture at work and labelling is ultimately the best way to get around it, along with advisory prevention and protection.

Did I mention how much that ad on the MRT with a pregnant teen girl and what appears to be a trail of blood from her navel creeps me out? Man it gives me the heebie jeebies.

Well, I might be old enough to paint my nails without my mother objecting. Oooh and they're a lovely plum and vermillion. Faceshop.

Back to the point. I'm old enough to paint my nails and so I do. Unfortunately, I'm not skilful enough and I get nail varnish all over my cuticles and finger. Good thing is, for something like that, there's always a nail polish remover and a wad of soft cotton.

As for having had sex, well I guess they have stitch-up surgery if you want your virginity back. Unfortunately for everything else where STDs, unwanted pregnancy, pride, social stigma, trauma (if there's any), any side effects, any regrets... well they haven't invented a remover for that.


Oh and I think German people are real smart. Einstein was German, but he switched sides. Hey, who would've known the top Nazi brains and brilliant minds were that good? Hitler made sure somebody shot them before they surrendered so nobody could get to the Nazi technology. Mmhmm so they went beyond the V2 rocket. Gotta love em' documentary channels.

So anyway, some of them got away and were scattered across North and South America. Now that's a fact. As for whether the Nazi UFO Conspiracy is true, well, after watching that documentary, I'm starting to lean towards the fact that UFOs might just as well be terrestrial.

Now, I just thank God for the balance. Gosh, can't imagine what would've happened if the Nazis had more time to develop their prototypes. Of course, according to the documentary, the Americans took over and had those developed and then made a cover-up story that UFOs were from outer space.

Techonology's sweet but shit happens if it falls into the wrong hands.

Labels: Essence of Sprouting, What's up or new

Wow I'm still running on another late night, a rumbling tummy and a sliver of inspiration, I write.

Remembering how E-von (yes I'm going to have to do without the Jiejie, at least here. Especially when you know, her age isn't too far away from mine.. just a decade shy) asked me if I wrote stories and poetry, I said no. Well as for poetry and fantasy writing, I can't write something that isn't real to me and especially not something that you never knew could be bound by so many rules.

Well, not anymore. Maybe I could when I was little, but not now. Probably never in the future.

Maybe after being a lit student, with a lack of confidence, I know poems, haikus (gosh I don't understand the beauty of those) and the like could never materialise in ink. I hate feeling like an amateur in this case, like how I never showed anyone else what I wrote, after Mrs Aidil nearly read my compo to the sec 4 class. Then, you'll never see 'Peace' again, cuz it'd probably be in the Tuas landfill by now.

At least hardly anyone got to read it.

Then again, is what I wrote worth being in the rubbish heap with yesterday's apple cores and last year's soured milk? Unfortunately, the A she gave me is also there. Kinda sorry about that now. Not like I'm showing off or anything, cuz I'm not really in the mood for that right now. Yes I now show you I'm shameless like that, hehs.

Reminds me oh how I used to keep diaries and then tear out the pages from dissatisfaction. The rest of the pages would be used as scrap paper for Math. Boy did I use a lot of those.

Again I question myself, I've been in internal conflict about this for a long time.

Am I ashamed of what I wrote?

Maybe not. I don't blame a celebrity who's gone bananas and thinks all belongs to the King himself, and by that I mean the biggest boss (and gut) of rock n roll. Kinda like a different mirror of virtual reality I might say.

Is there anything really wrong with that?

To play with the different perspectives of the lunatic, the doctors and the lawyer was my main purpose, and man it makes me so proud to think I would've thought of that. I guess I threw it away during the time I cleaned up my sec sch things because I was afraid of exposing the flaws in the composition, which would amount to the flaws in my delivery and ultimately my mind.

I spent 3 hours writing that. Well Shakira did say giving birth is not without delivery pains. I spent 30 minutes on edge as Mrs Aidil scrutinised what appears to be a doctor's handwriting on my compo, and you had no idea how I was scared shitless. I took only 3 minutes to decide that it should go with my Math homework, into the rubbish.

Now I know why I frequently have nightmares of being publicly naked (especially last year) and running away, hiding behind every imaginary pillar.

Apparently, that's the sign of being afraid of people knowing your weaknesses and a sleepytime manifestation of escapism.

Oh Mdm Priya, it didn't just happen in drama, it happened in my sleep too.

I guess it's got more to do than shyness and being a perfectionist.

I believe in artistic therapy more than ever. It is true that what you draw, write, play might reflect your emotional state of mind and becomes a peep-hole to the vast reaches of the lock-under-chain mind.


Now I shall reconstruct my essay:

Peace

Lawyer with a latino last name goes into a hospital. The walls outside are grey concrete. The air inside is ... clinical and the corridor foreboding. By the vending machine, he adjusts his tie and makes sure he looks as professional as possible. He's in his business suit and polished shoes.

He is taken to his client where they are supposed to discuss his will. Mr. Celebalooney (not his real name, I couldn't remember what I named him) was to name the successors to his estates and royalties. As he enters the ward, Mr C. is having an episode (and he's singing an offpitched 'Hound Dog') and all the doctors and nurses are trying to restrain him. Mr C. appears to calm down and return to his senses when he sees his lawyer. Doctors and nurses are relieved.

Lawyer begins discussion with a dishevelled Mr C.. For a while he seems to understand, and reassures him that he's okay, then he starts to enlighten his lawyer. He insists he doesn't have any children and all his money should be given to Elvis whose address was the North Pole. Lawyer tries to reason with him but thinks he's really lost it and the paperwork has to be postponed.

Mr C. starts losing it again. Outside, the paparazzi a la Britney Spears' case is gathering outside and causing chaos.

Lawyer contemplates the situation and ponders the question of reality and society.

When he's done, he sees nurses dragging him to the solitary confinement room. Mr C. sings a different Elvis tune.

Lawyer is convinced that Mr C. is at peace in his disorganised mind and away from the world.

He straightens his suit and heads to door, seeing the world differently from when he came in.


When I write essays, they usually start with real life questions and situations as inspiration, then grow into a readable story, with the fictional characters and happenings mirroring or parodying non-fiction elements.

I suppose, with all that stress and all, I was beginning to question what was real. People telling me that this and that is real, how would I know if they didn't seem real to me anymore?

Sometimes I felt like Mr C.. Who knows I might be better off living in my own world, though it had consequences, especially stemming from isolation.

I might be as judgemental and cruel as the paparazzi, because reality was not for the individual to decide, but the masses. Oh my, what would brainwashing do.

Most of the time I felt the answers were always hanging in the balance. We'd never know, but do we have to pick a side? Now that's the lawyer's opinion. Common sense isn't exactly Sherlock Holmes beyond the superficial.

Nevertheless, eventually I settled for a good-enough answer, then with God, the best answer anyone could give me.

Through writing and re-writing, I learnt what Cambridge might've been really pissed with, but maybe our trails, like careless footsteps cemented in wet cement, can't keep the cat in the bag.

Artists and creative geniuses (think Van Gogh) were always plagued by stigma and overwhelming emotions that were felt more than two-fold of the not-as-sensitive majority.

Like people who don't know how to play any musical instruments, when musicians speak at length about musical elements that make up their music or compositions, you know when you dont understand, you're left out. Hence, they're in a world that is incomprehensible and unreachable to those who do not have the skeleton key. Same goes to artists or people who've gone off the rocker.

While the majority writes them off as basketcases who are too over-emotional, I guess, I'm taking a stand for them.

For even when I'm generally at peace, there will still be some to insist I am just about as unstable as a house of cards.

Layers and interpretations, that's the good thing about being a lit student. Eventually, you'll see how in a lot of writings, there's more than meets the eye and less than we'll ever uncover.

Just as some of us choose to believe that Elvis is very much alive today, who says he doesn't still live on in our music and in our hearts?

Huiyi and I once had this conversation,

She said, "Why do people have to be two-faced? It just makes life more difficult for everyone. Why can't they just be themselves?!!". And yes, she sounded positively frustrated.

So I said,

"Don't be silly now. If they were to just be themselves, everyone would know they're assholes".

Hmm. Well, you can't deny that's almost half the explanation.


Next, Sam got me this job where I had to transcribe one hour of tape for 30 bucks. Honestly, I had no problem catching on to the (boring) recorded interview, but I had to listen to some parts for a few times.

Samuel: You should stop procrastinating! Get back to transcribing. (yes I haven't completed one tape yet.) Pray to the Lord for the patience and persistence, it's the fruit of the spirit!

So I said,

"Tomorrow lah."


Procrastinators unite!


Besides the fact that I'm procrastinating and my mother's out of town... I painted my nails.

Oh gosh I miss her so. Not just because she's away, but mostly because the boys (yes, my dad has crossed the line) at home are driving me crazy.

Isn't there like, an obedience school badly-behaved-around-the-house males should go to?

1. They make messes they don't realise.

2. They don't clean up after their messes.

They were just about as clueless as fattened chickens headed towards the KFC supply chain.

3. They expect everybody without a (crude but I have to say it) penis to do everything else for em'.


I gotta admit this, but they can't freaking order pizza over the phone, try to reheat pizza, attempt reheating pizza without realising the switch is on 'OFF' (and wondering why the toaster's all screwed up), make porridge for dinner etc.

Oooh and this one takes the cake.

Pretty much all the chores are left to me and wow, I have to stay up to wait for the washing machine to be done washing so that I can hang up the clothes. Talk about selfish and this time, I mean it. While not incapable of doing the laundry (which is fold or hang), I'm really starting to think they're overly-dependent on my mama.

So it went like this,

My dad pushed the laundry to me and I did um, probably 4 days worth of laundry. Getting pissed off and rebelling against sheer laziness only got me an annoying little snoot telling me off,

"YEA! You should be more responsible!"

Uh-huh. For anyone who still think he's cute, I swear I'm going to slap your face with my brother's damp underwear.

You have been warned. May common sense be with you.

Which reminds me how pissed off I was at dinner cleaning up their messes. it just so happened my brother gave me another passing quip...

"If you have time, you should go do some chores *snooty act-cute face*".

Somebody kill me.

Some chocolate later, I cooled down.

Haiz. This is why if I have kids, I need to have at least one daughter. I don't know how mums can live without another female if they don't have daughters.

Yes, I believe my family would be a wreck without my mama around. Oh she's always there to make sure things are tip-top and shipshape. The loving, responsible custodian of the house, I'm so glad she's coming back tomorrow.

Sigh, I guess it's been written in history. Men have conspired (oooh and ganged up by ignoring the chores and lounging their fat asses in front of the tv) since the beginning of time to push everything seemingly domestic to women.

I don't know what to say. I'm just glad I have a mother that keeps my sanity alive before belligerence takes over. Ironically, she's usually the one killing it.

At least my dad has been civil to me and not buay song cuz I didn't do as he said immediately (yes I had to do it anyway). Oh well, who would figure out how to work the toaster!

Sometimes, all they had to do was pretty much... um, move. Sedentary. But what d'you know, when they got to using their nougets,

*few minutes of inspection*

"HEY this thing is on 'OFF!'"

"I think, we should do this... *turns knob*"

"LOOK! THE TOASTER'S LIGHTING UP!"


This is why men take women for granted. Especially in everyday situations.

Of course if you're not one of these guys, you got nothing be ashamed of. So don't tell me I'm generalising here. The innocent walk free. The guilty... Thou shalt be judged by PMS-ing housewives with formidable rolling pins.

And so in Mr and Mrs Smith,

Brad Pitt said, "You underestimate me, Jane"

then Angelina Jolie said, "John, you couldn't find the keys even if you had a map and a compass."


At least it's how I remember it, or want to remember it.

We're girls with horror stories. Do tell!

Labels: Family, Quirks, Real Life

It's my 96th post! Heh heh, coming towards the 100th. I haven't had a good enough post in a long long time. Oh the laziness bug and the writer's block.


The weather turned on the nose tap today. Non-stop sneezing, sniffing and leaking. Too bad there ain't no plumber for this.

It's gone from perpetually windy for a week, to scorching sun, pouring sheets, mild, once-a-day-rain, then interchangeably wet or humid.


Sharon's 17th birthday! Maybe it's not so strange after all that time would pass so fast, like, tomorrow the whole bunch of us would be 27, then 77. Looking at Stephanie's schedule while I'm basically lazing around, it does feel sorta crazy that it was only a few months ago that I was busier than that.

I saw the neighbour I've not seen in months since his sister's wedding an hour ago. A little ironic how I see my neighbour less often like this. So near yet so far. Got a little wistful thinking how one day, we'd all move out, leaving the parents with the whole house to themselves.


A passing thought... It seems to me that whenever anyone is angry, he who seems to have no more vocabulary than a country bumpkin, spews out words Shakespeare has never heard of.

In other words...

A girl who looks just about as deep as Jessica Simpson (Nick Lachey: I swear if you get fat, this marriage is so over), speaks like Brooke Shields, in fact, say it in the most serious tone possible (Smoking kills. When you die, you've lost a very important part fo your life) would, I don't know...

wax lyrical in emo 'masterpieces' and use words like 'cognoscente', with atrocious grammar in the next sentence. Wordsworth would be so proud.

I know I've said this before, but I've had a bit of a breakthrough. Do people feel the need to show their superiority in a conflict as a cat would do by making its fur stand on end, just so they could have a more threatening appearance? Oh, the things we do to have an upper hand and act like we know what we're talking about.

When people you know are naturally bravura in self-expression (heh, thank God I don't see people like these too often), or just trying to blow up like a pufferfish, sometimes you can't help but wonder: Before you typed that self-righteous admonishment, I bet you picked a random word from Dictionary.com.

When a noun is confused for a verb in plain pissed-offness (Constance speak!), oh how we blasphemise the innocent bystander, literally shooting the messenger (English Language) instead of the sender (Who you're pissed off at). Sacrilegous! (Oooh repetition!)

No reticence now, oh I feel empowered by something I barely understand!

Get it? Now that's why I don't check Dictionary.com as often, due to lack of flavour. Yeah feel free to study this post for A level's GP eh Hairil. The sun is yet again at the windowsill of the world. We'll see if you'll be calling me up for cheem phrases before your exam.


Did I mention the song which goes 'Mah heart is damaged, damaged, daaaamaged ..' is plain annoying. If a lover has given yourself a heart attack, then that's too bad, please don't sing about it like that.

Its one of those songs when you ask: Who the hell gives it heavy airplay?


Why is everyone born in March?!! I've got like 4 birthdays at hand. "Ni ma bu shi ying cao piao de hor!"


Speaking of my mother, she says more than she should, especially to little children. No wonder we lose patience with her.

You don't tell a kid whose got his lovely pencil case vandalised on purpose by someone he doesn't know that the girl who did it is being ridiculous and should stop trying to attract my brother with her inappropriately coquettish way of showing a twisted sense of attraction masked in arrogance.

I hate it when she jumps to conclusions. Undermines the victims and it proudly displays our need to be always right and judgemental without knowing the full story. Gosh, what if the victims don't even know if she's wrong cuz she's never as right as she says she is.

Doesn't matter now, as for me, I'm learning not to be that way, especially during the course of last week...

Labels: Answers, Essence of Sprouting, Family, Real Life, Seeds of Smartness Sown to Show-off

Hokay, before I forget, here's what I saw on the MRT...

Okay you gotta picture this for yourself. The account is based on first impression.

They looked North Indian.

They were both in front of me and didn't seem to be able to tear their eyes off each other.

Let's see, the guy seems to be in his early twenties and he was in a pair of jeans, a white tee and a denim jacket. He had very well-defined features - skin the colour of melted milk chocolate and a delicate chin and a nose Michael Jackson would pay millions for. There was a mass of jet-black hair atop his David Henrie lookalike face.

http://images.google.com.sg/images?sourceid=navclient&rlz=1T4HPAB_enSG240SG241&q=david+henrie&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=cGurSceLL9XJkAXCiuXkDQ&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&resnum=4&ct=title

Ha, for those who have Disney Channel at home, you'd know what I mean.

Digressing: Damn you Jonas Brothers! This is what a real heartthrob is like.

Of course, that's besides the fact that it felt so dreamlike. It was a case of 'Wow you look better in person than on TV'.

(Up til now, I hope I haven't got any guy friends who are contemplating emo-ing in one corner or letting their egos loose)

The girl, erm, strangely, has the same hair and skin colour. She has doe eyes and full coloured lips. Oh and lovely shaped brows. Not tranny-ish, but very elegant. She was in this erm, African tribal-inspired dress and definitely carried it off very well. Now I know why angmoh women pay a lot for Indian hair. I tells ya, it was sleek, shiny and cascades in thick gentle curls.

(Okay girls don't start looking in the mirror now. It ain't gonna change anything. To prevent any broken self-esteem or image issues, just let me say: You can't really say if someone is beautiful if you've never seen them up close and very often. First impressions are after all, first impressions. Plus, nobody's ever beautiful without abnormalities. If they're acceptable to look at, it just means they're pretty, but not beautiful. Okay that's enough for damage control)

So yeah, the pair looked like a dream couple that just jumped out of Bollywood movie. She buttons his denim jacket for him in a loving fashion and he proceeds to put his arms around her.

They speak in a language I can't understand, but boy does it sound romantic when it leaves their lips.

In fact,

The only thing that was missing was the ubiqitous coconut tree.

Of course, this is one of the more interesting train rides I had.

Labels: Quirks

Okay update update! :)

I have a perfectly good reason for not updating though... More details next time.

1) Let's see, in the past week I have been given a tutoring assignment. *cheers* However, for that amount of money, you have to pay for it in high blood pressure, frustration and hair-tearing.

I don't know who or what I can't stand more: My tutee or his dogs. One of em' is a freaking arselicker. Literally. Ham sup dog.

2) Heh Adelina looks hawt in the polka dotted dress. Damn I'm a sucker for polka dots. Or someone crazay in em'.

3) Had the most fun in such a long time! This week has been very stressful with tutoring and exposure to working life. Haiz. 3 hours of tutoring is just about as bad as 8 hours of boredom. Gawsh, even Grace didn't have this much shit. And she was tutoring me in A math and Physics.

4) I'm appreciating my life more and doing my best to catch up with work and being the best I can at home and outside.

5) I'm loving church, ze people inside and the basic follow-up class. Sure is a lot of spiritual fulfilment. Only when I last thought of it, I guess I really understood the difference between 'happy' and 'full of joy'.

6) My Ah Gong turned 92 yesterday. Caught up with my cousins yesterday and for once the fun never stopped til we left.

7) I've been itchy lately. Hate being itchy. Gotta stop scratching.

8) Exhausted lately, but very energized today! xD

9) Have become an official fan of Mind Your Language! Hoyeah!

10) My hair had a dramatic transformation today.

identity-finder, half-thinker, thought-translater, life-pacer, adversary-fighter, grown-wiser, subtle-humour, nail-biter, indulgent-appreciator, pragmatic-dreamer, irony-murdered, unglamourous-puss, rocket-bunny

october 1st, sixteen, libran, singapore, tutor, christian, student, daughter, sister, friend, writer, artist, teenager, life, love

corny in a paradigm where sense and non sequiturs go together, taking it in like vanilla ice cream on a banana split, or sand on a boot. whichever goes.

Adelina Anjelica Cassandra Clarissa Daniel Esther E-von Geraldine Hairil HongWei Huiyi Jasmin Jasmine Jay Joseph Kenneth Marlyna Mythili Nadrah Samuel Sharon Sisi Shawn Stephanie Szeyuan Tivona YongQuan SHAKIRA Bare Feet JSS ELDDS

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