I started this blog at the start of a particular chapter of my life, and now I feel like this chapter is reaching its end. Usually chapters in my life tend to last a few months at best, but this chapter lasted from 2006 until now. It began when I left junior college and embarked on my journey towards becoming a not-quite young adult, and I had experienced a lot and made a lot of new friends and new discoveries along the way.
I got my first job as a teacher, and earning my own money was a thrilling experience. I received the best ever academic achievements I ever did, beyond my own expectations. I fell in love and out of love many times, worked many different, diverse jobs, took the plunge and invested in a fashion that became my life, met many awesome people that ultimately became the Order of the Raec, had my first, real and serious relationship that although was short-lived, was something I did not regret because it made me discover facets of my personality I had misunderstood all my life. I went through so many life-changing procedures, got in and out of hospital, won a lawsuit, got over my fear of dogs, learnt a new instrument, performed in the Esplanade, walked all the way home from NUS....etc.
However over the course of the summer of 2008 I developed something that I am not comfortable to talk about to anybody as yet, something I am still fighting (no it's not some life-threatening illness or death-related, don't worry), and I felt that this is the start of a new chapter. In fact I have already started this new chapter and had closed the old one, but today I decided, thinking if anyone who is still checking on this blog for new updates is wondering why I had stopped in February, I should leave a fitting finale informing everyone that THBNBTE is now officially closed and buried.
Thy patronage is much appreciated, and I hopeth thou hast gaineth a king's ransom betwixt thy charming ears.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Rageth Within
i don't want people to treat me like an invalid. i'm not. i'm not ultra-fragile, or that i might collapse under my own weight any time. you don't have to talk around me in hushed tones whenever the subject comes up, or try to console me.
just because i have some problems with my body doesn't make me something else.
please don't look at me with such horrified faces.
i get hurt if you call me "accident girl". i don't use it as an excuse for not doing some things. and if i do tell people what happened, it doesn't help if you say, "oh, talking about it AGAIN?"
it's not up to you to say that. you're not the one who had this happen to you. you're not the one who has to wonder if any other things have been damaged in the process.
there is a reason why i don't tell people. and there is a reason why i do tell people, sometimes. it's not up to any of you to decide who and when i say it.
it is precisely because of such people like you that i refuse to tell anyone the extent of my injuries.
on a separate note:
if you say you're going to be doing something, DO IT. because i am going to assume that you hold it true to your word and not question it. then when i realize that you didn't do what you proposed to, don't fucking turn my word around and blame me. you said that you were going to do it, so why are you blaming me for trusting you? this was not the first time you've done it.
i am so angry for being angry at myself for being angry at you because i do not know who is at fault here anymore and you make it appear as it is all mine.
just because i have some problems with my body doesn't make me something else.
please don't look at me with such horrified faces.
i get hurt if you call me "accident girl". i don't use it as an excuse for not doing some things. and if i do tell people what happened, it doesn't help if you say, "oh, talking about it AGAIN?"
it's not up to you to say that. you're not the one who had this happen to you. you're not the one who has to wonder if any other things have been damaged in the process.
there is a reason why i don't tell people. and there is a reason why i do tell people, sometimes. it's not up to any of you to decide who and when i say it.
it is precisely because of such people like you that i refuse to tell anyone the extent of my injuries.
on a separate note:
if you say you're going to be doing something, DO IT. because i am going to assume that you hold it true to your word and not question it. then when i realize that you didn't do what you proposed to, don't fucking turn my word around and blame me. you said that you were going to do it, so why are you blaming me for trusting you? this was not the first time you've done it.
i am so angry for being angry at myself for being angry at you because i do not know who is at fault here anymore and you make it appear as it is all mine.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Speecheth Upon A Soape Box
wrathfie: S was a girl i had a girly crush on. *pat*
why is it that boys can't keep their eyes to themselves and their girlfriends? why must they stare and stare and look and ogle at other girls, even when their girlfriend is right next to them? is your girlfriend not pretty enough to hold your undivided attention, hm? is she not interesting enough? if you are so easily distracted by any random girl, what does that say about your feelings for the girl you have laid exclusive claim upon?
oh and before you assume anything, no, i'm not referring to my boyfriend. i don't have any boyfriends, despite my frequent moping about for one (and yet still being ridiculously picky, which means i'm not at desperation level). i'm referring to the guys that stare at me.
don't you know it's rude to stare at me, when you girlfriend is next to you? don't you know it would make your girlfriend think i'm a boyfriend-stealing hussy (and you know i'm not, if you know what i mean, woof woof)? i have been glared at by countless girls, just because their unfaithful men had feasted their eyes upon my unsuspecting visage. HELLO? i didn't ask for them to stare! if i could i'd wear a burka and cover myself up so people wouldn't stare, but of course burkas would cramp my style and it's not my fault, it's theirs, so why should i cover myself up?
what is worse, is the guys that have girlfriends, and YET try to get over-friendly with me. if you want to be more than friends, make sure you are fancy free. i do not appreciate some raging bitch sending me death threats pinned onto voodoo dolls with my face on it.
thank you, that is all.
why is it that boys can't keep their eyes to themselves and their girlfriends? why must they stare and stare and look and ogle at other girls, even when their girlfriend is right next to them? is your girlfriend not pretty enough to hold your undivided attention, hm? is she not interesting enough? if you are so easily distracted by any random girl, what does that say about your feelings for the girl you have laid exclusive claim upon?
oh and before you assume anything, no, i'm not referring to my boyfriend. i don't have any boyfriends, despite my frequent moping about for one (and yet still being ridiculously picky, which means i'm not at desperation level). i'm referring to the guys that stare at me.
don't you know it's rude to stare at me, when you girlfriend is next to you? don't you know it would make your girlfriend think i'm a boyfriend-stealing hussy (and you know i'm not, if you know what i mean, woof woof)? i have been glared at by countless girls, just because their unfaithful men had feasted their eyes upon my unsuspecting visage. HELLO? i didn't ask for them to stare! if i could i'd wear a burka and cover myself up so people wouldn't stare, but of course burkas would cramp my style and it's not my fault, it's theirs, so why should i cover myself up?
what is worse, is the guys that have girlfriends, and YET try to get over-friendly with me. if you want to be more than friends, make sure you are fancy free. i do not appreciate some raging bitch sending me death threats pinned onto voodoo dolls with my face on it.
thank you, that is all.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Fishwife Naggeth
i think my future husband would be a really brave man.
i think it takes guts to be with someone like me.
plus...i like to conduct experiments regarding the human body than might or might not be 100% safe.
i think it'll be mean to make someone go through whatever i want them to do, if he didn't love me. so it is a hazard to love me.
it's much better to be a girl around me.
i miss S. i really miss her. there is not one day i stop and think what is she doing now.
i think it takes guts to be with someone like me.
plus...i like to conduct experiments regarding the human body than might or might not be 100% safe.
i think it'll be mean to make someone go through whatever i want them to do, if he didn't love me. so it is a hazard to love me.
it's much better to be a girl around me.
i miss S. i really miss her. there is not one day i stop and think what is she doing now.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Burneth Thy Corset!
note to chris: campus is not worth the effort of dressing up so nicely. points to be illustrated later.
my mother is a strong woman. she is hardworking, intelligent and successful in her career. she earns her own money, and is paying for my university fees singlehandedly, on top of her own indulgences like spa treatments and branded handbags. not to say that my father is a complete slob, since he does contribute to our living maintenance.
my mother is forever talking about how women are so strong, how women can do so much more than men, how it is only a matter of time when men would realize the injustice history had dealt to women. and yet she sets feminist progress back centuries by her archaic, Confucian male-centric views by the double standards she sets when it comes to me and my brother.
picture this: my brother and i are vegging out in front of the telly. he had done nothing all day, except read novels, play computer games, and watching DVDs. i had just completed a harrowing 3000 word essay and need a much-deserved break. in comes my mother, seeing us both slacking off. she stands before me, ignoring my brother, and says, "don't be so lazy and just sit there. why can't you fold the clothes for once?"
hello? your son is sitting there, right before you, and you just dump the work on your daughter, assuming that it is the RIGHT of the girl to do the housework while it is OKAY for the boy to enjoy being lazy and dominant?
such downright hypocrisy for a woman who complains that women have to do all the work and men do nothing. the truth is, she wants to do all the work and leave nothing for the men to do, just so she can have the right to complain. well if she wants to do that, fine, but don't implicate the rest of womanhood along with you, and above all, don't dump the laundry on your tired daughter while patronizing your spoiled son.
no i don't hate my brother. he is my closest friend and has stood up for me since time immemorial, but he IS spoiled, for all his intelligence, good nature and kindness.
my mother makes a big deal when my brother does the dishes after she cooks, but when i do the dishes, she simply takes it as if i was supposed to do it all along (my father is annoying: he acts surprised like i even knew how to do the dishes). and on top of that she inspects them and criticizes them if i left out a spot of grease. if only she realizes the truth of things! at home, my brother leaves the pots and pans and dirty dishes in the sink after he's done with them, and i am the one who washes them because i need to cook as well.
my mother insists that i'm plump and need to lose weight (strangely, just 10 minutes ago i was in the living room, and my father said i looked like a skinny gibbon), but when my brother announces that he will be on a diet to keep trim, she kicks up a protest. needless to say my brother doesn't listen to her and diets anyway, and when he yields results, my mother turns to me and asks me why can't i have the same discipline to exercise like my brother?
um, hello mother. have you forgotten your daughter was in a car accident?
my mother asks me why i do not wear makeup to school, or put on my pretty clothes. she dislikes the sloppy stuff i wear, and calls me plain. i tell her there is no need to dress up for school. she counters by saying, "you should present your best face forward at all times. then boys will like you."
i tell her, why should i pertain to the wants and fantasies of boys? why should i paint myself and put on my expensive dresses, risking a stain from the filthiness of campus, just so i can parade myself to a horde of penis-owners that wouldn't know better and probably not as smart as i am? what you see is what you get, mother. after all, this plain, un-madeup face devoid of mascara and lip gloss is what my husband is going to see every morning upon waking up, so what better time than now to get used to it?
i have just as much right to wear crumpled t-shirts and faded bermudas and scruffy sneakers to campus as the boy who wears his army singlet, FBTs and $5 flipflops to lecture, or the girl who wears a BCBG dress, Jimmy Choo heels, a full face of makeup complete with false lashes and a Fendi bag to a schoolday that consist of only 1 hour of tutorial.
at least i wash my face before going to school, and comb my hair. isn't that good enough effort?
my grandmother's generation was about moaning about the cages that restrict them. my mother's generation opened the cages. my generation is to burn these cages and discard the ashes. for now these cages are still there. they have been opened, and they stand opened, but the fact that they are still present means that we can just run back into the cages any time we want. but we should get rid of this safety blanket that binds and chokes us, and be brave and strong enough to stand in our own two feet, regardless if they are shod by Blahnik or Bata sandals.
because we have every right to let our brothers fold their own underwear and t-shirts.
my mother is a strong woman. she is hardworking, intelligent and successful in her career. she earns her own money, and is paying for my university fees singlehandedly, on top of her own indulgences like spa treatments and branded handbags. not to say that my father is a complete slob, since he does contribute to our living maintenance.
my mother is forever talking about how women are so strong, how women can do so much more than men, how it is only a matter of time when men would realize the injustice history had dealt to women. and yet she sets feminist progress back centuries by her archaic, Confucian male-centric views by the double standards she sets when it comes to me and my brother.
picture this: my brother and i are vegging out in front of the telly. he had done nothing all day, except read novels, play computer games, and watching DVDs. i had just completed a harrowing 3000 word essay and need a much-deserved break. in comes my mother, seeing us both slacking off. she stands before me, ignoring my brother, and says, "don't be so lazy and just sit there. why can't you fold the clothes for once?"
hello? your son is sitting there, right before you, and you just dump the work on your daughter, assuming that it is the RIGHT of the girl to do the housework while it is OKAY for the boy to enjoy being lazy and dominant?
such downright hypocrisy for a woman who complains that women have to do all the work and men do nothing. the truth is, she wants to do all the work and leave nothing for the men to do, just so she can have the right to complain. well if she wants to do that, fine, but don't implicate the rest of womanhood along with you, and above all, don't dump the laundry on your tired daughter while patronizing your spoiled son.
no i don't hate my brother. he is my closest friend and has stood up for me since time immemorial, but he IS spoiled, for all his intelligence, good nature and kindness.
my mother makes a big deal when my brother does the dishes after she cooks, but when i do the dishes, she simply takes it as if i was supposed to do it all along (my father is annoying: he acts surprised like i even knew how to do the dishes). and on top of that she inspects them and criticizes them if i left out a spot of grease. if only she realizes the truth of things! at home, my brother leaves the pots and pans and dirty dishes in the sink after he's done with them, and i am the one who washes them because i need to cook as well.
my mother insists that i'm plump and need to lose weight (strangely, just 10 minutes ago i was in the living room, and my father said i looked like a skinny gibbon), but when my brother announces that he will be on a diet to keep trim, she kicks up a protest. needless to say my brother doesn't listen to her and diets anyway, and when he yields results, my mother turns to me and asks me why can't i have the same discipline to exercise like my brother?
um, hello mother. have you forgotten your daughter was in a car accident?
my mother asks me why i do not wear makeup to school, or put on my pretty clothes. she dislikes the sloppy stuff i wear, and calls me plain. i tell her there is no need to dress up for school. she counters by saying, "you should present your best face forward at all times. then boys will like you."
i tell her, why should i pertain to the wants and fantasies of boys? why should i paint myself and put on my expensive dresses, risking a stain from the filthiness of campus, just so i can parade myself to a horde of penis-owners that wouldn't know better and probably not as smart as i am? what you see is what you get, mother. after all, this plain, un-madeup face devoid of mascara and lip gloss is what my husband is going to see every morning upon waking up, so what better time than now to get used to it?
i have just as much right to wear crumpled t-shirts and faded bermudas and scruffy sneakers to campus as the boy who wears his army singlet, FBTs and $5 flipflops to lecture, or the girl who wears a BCBG dress, Jimmy Choo heels, a full face of makeup complete with false lashes and a Fendi bag to a schoolday that consist of only 1 hour of tutorial.
at least i wash my face before going to school, and comb my hair. isn't that good enough effort?
my grandmother's generation was about moaning about the cages that restrict them. my mother's generation opened the cages. my generation is to burn these cages and discard the ashes. for now these cages are still there. they have been opened, and they stand opened, but the fact that they are still present means that we can just run back into the cages any time we want. but we should get rid of this safety blanket that binds and chokes us, and be brave and strong enough to stand in our own two feet, regardless if they are shod by Blahnik or Bata sandals.
because we have every right to let our brothers fold their own underwear and t-shirts.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Mantua Maketh the Woman
kagetsuki, me, crux. we're not in costume.
for the last time, lolita is not cosplay! (it is also nothing sexual in nature)
just because it doesn't look like conventional clothing, doesn't mean it's a costume. it's a fashion. the JSKs, the OPs, they are dresses. they might have more lace, more frills and more layers than a wedding cake, but they are clothes all the same.
look at western goths. are they cosplaying? no, they aren't. they aren't in costumes. bondage pants, corsets, capes, goggles, hair falls etc. they do not resemble conventional clothing, and yet people recognize them as a fashion/style/subculture.
so why do you people think i cosplay because i dress in lolita? i am not pretending to be someone. i am being myself, and if my dress is a little more frilly than yours, tough. i am living my life by my rules, and i can wear whatever i damn want.
how would you feel, if i asked you if you were a cosplay? "but i'm in a t-shirt and jeans!" you exclaim. well, aren't you cosplaying the generic workaday ippan-jin?
nonsense. the next time you see me prancing about in a floofy dress, look at yourself, and wonder, "am i cosplaying? am i wearing these common clothes because that is what everyone else is wearing, or is it because i truly love wearing it?"
Thursday, September 13, 2007
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