when your heart is breaking, it feels like a tight, unbearable pain in your chest. you feel like you can't breathe properly, because of the tightness. it grows worse by the moment, and no matter how much you cry, the pain doesn't dissolve. it weighs you down like a lead pincer, and you don't know when you'll ever feel the same again.
it's funny how i experience such emotions in my dreams, and how real they are. i've dreamt about fear, about sex and about loss, but only recently have i started dreaming about love and heartbreak. these emotions i've never experienced before in my waking life.
last night i dreamt that the man i loved was going to marry one of my sisters. we dated for a while and then broke up, but i never really got over him. we became friends, and then he started dating my second sister, who was the shy, sweet one. it was really painful seeing the two of them so happy and absorbed with each other, especially my sister, because i knew that she loved him too and i really wanted her to be happy.
but what hurt me most was that i knew that he would be gone from me forever.
the pain in my chest was terrible. it was so heavy and tight, and as it drew nearer to the wedding it felt like i would explode. i was in fact hoping to explode because then i wouldn't be able to feel anything, but of course it was impossible. i thought every moment was the worst i could endure, but was proven wrong in the next. i couldn't tell anyone, not my family nor my friends, and no one understood. they knew i was heartbroken over somebody, but no one suspected it was my sister's husband-to-be, for it would shock them and most likely break my sister's heart too. i couldn't bear to let her feel the same pain as i did, and even so there was nothing to gain. he would still love her, for i was nothing in his eyes anymore.
i couldn't look at him at the wedding, but how i prayed he would look at me. how i hoped beyond hope that the wedding wouldn't go through, how i hoped that everything wasn't actually happening. i could see my sister, looking so happy, so unspeakably happy and beautiful in her wedding gown, and i hated myself for hoping the wedding would fall through. then the two of them, up at the altar, while the minister was giving his service, i couldn't take it anymore and ran out of the hall.
i ran up to the rooftop and cried, but instead of loosening the pain, each sob brought on more and more weight to my heart. my parents and my brother, who were running after me, had no idea what to do, because they never knew what was in my heart. they told me to come back to the wedding, that they were going to exchange their vows.
then i knew i had to see them do it. it would kill me, and rip my heart up and bleed me of all my life, but at least it was over and done with. perhaps, perhaps i might even heal again. when all the hope is gone, the pain would go too, because without hope, the heart is dead and unfeeling. i ran down, ran with all my might down back to the wedding, but it looked like it was too late. everyone was already toasting each other in the lobby, commenting on how long the service were. i ran into the hall, and saw my sister and my love standing hand-in-hand at the altar, looking into each other's eyes.
then suddenly the weight was gone from my chest. because i woke up and realised, alas, it was all but a dream.
it's funny, but i don't have any sister, let alone the five sisters i had in that dream. i've never been in love with anyone, and the man in my dream was someone i've never met before. in fact, most of the men i dream about to be my husbands or lovers or boyfriends are men i've never seen before. they always look different and are very different people, never once the same person, except for my Angel Raphael person, whom i've dreamt about perhaps twice. a few nights ago i dreamt about the man i would experience true love with. no, actually i was dreaming about the emotion of love, because i can't remember how that man looked like, but i know the feeling.
it's a tender feeling, very trusting and gentle. it's not hot raging passions, nor a burning ache in the heart, but a warm, soothing emotion that falls about you like a comfortable, familiar blanket. when we kiss, i actually yearn for more. i'm jaded to kisses. i think it's pretty disgusting, thanks to the bad kissing experiences i've had. so in this dream, the kisses were so sweet and so satisfying, but yet not cloying that it makes me satiated. i could picture myself making love to him, and not get that queer feeling of revulsion i usually get whenever i picture myself having sex with anyone. it's true. i might feel horny and very attracted to somebody, but when i imagine having sex with him, a small voice in my head tells me it's disgusting and worthless. but not in this dream, with this man.
unfortunately, for some reason the dream changed, and i won't go into detail because it's off-topic. dreams teach us a lot of things and allows us to experience emotions we've never felt before, perhaps to ready us for the actual thing in our waking lives. perhaps we do live two lives, a waking, conscious life and a sleeping, subconscious life. our subconscious psyche is perhaps more mature than our conscious one, because when we are awake, we do things, while when we sleep, we think things, thus allowing our subconscious psyche to be able to mature emotionally and psychologically faster than our conscious psyche.
but that's another mystery yet to be solved.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Ach, Upon Thy Maidenhead!
virginity is overrated. it's an old-fashioned notion, most likely created by chauvinistic patriarchal sonuvabitches to feed their ego that all women should be chaste to them and them alone. even that thing about muslim martyrs, that when they die they get 40 virgins to serve them in their afterlife. whatabout female martyrs? do they get 40 virgin men to serve them in their afterlives?
someone told me that she considers her virginity her most precious part, that she won't surrender it until her wedding night. well to her credit i'm sure she'd hold still to that bargain, but your virginity ain't your most precious part. it's your heart and your mind, and most importantly your trust. sex is just sex. mere fucking. it feels good (well, sometimes), makes babies and kills time when time needs killing. granted, sex is better when love is involved, but sex as an act doesn't say much. i wouldn't consider the contact of two sexual organs as the giving up of your most precious part.
your body is material (same goes for your hymen) but your thoughts, your personality and all those abstract things that make you, you, they are immaterial. i'd rather give up my body than my heart. sex is merely a physical act, as i've said before. some people regard sex as the physical embodiment of giving in and receiving, of trusting and accepting trust. that's what they call meaningful sex. but there's also meaningless sex, where sex is simply a physical act, like exercising or masturbation, for the achievement of physical pleasure, nothing else. i have nothing against meaningful or meaningless sex. in fact, i'm rooting for team sex.
i'm not saying i'm a nymphoniac. i'm still a virgin after all. a physical virgin, and a mental/emotional one too. i've just not found the desire or the person with whom i want to have sex with. i'm sure i can easily find myself a sex partner, but i'm just not interested. besides i have ridiculously high standards, and the only person whom i can overlook these standards is myself. lesser males disgust me. especially lesser males who mistakenly believe they are alphas.
anyway back to the topic on virginity. in the olden days people associate virginity with purity and chastity and all those religious conservative nonsense. once you've had sex, you're unclean! you're a slut! you have to marry the rake who ravished you or face eternal condemnation from society! even if you're married, sex isn't meant for enjoyment! sex is for making babies! the only right way for having sex is the missionary position! if you're riding the man, you're the devil! it's these reasons that have shaped up the misguided notion about sex. if sex isn't meant for pleasure, then why the hell are we allowed to get orgasms? our nerve endings are there for a reason, innit? the kama sutra, written oh-so-long ago, has specified so many ways to screw, other than the missionary, so does that mean that all the women there are unholy bitches?
but i digress.
i suppose the main reason why sex is frowned upon as a taboo as due to the whole adam and eve fiasco. but if they didn't have sex, then there wouldn't be people in the world! we should thank them for discovering the use of their parts. then there's confucius in china who's one of the biggest asian chauvinistic bastards with his nonsense that women are beneath men. a bride's worth is in the state of her hymen?
of course, many people have abandoned the virginity issue, especially in liberal, developed countries. but here, where society is still strictly confucian chinese, islamic malay and um...hinduic indian (?) virginity is still looked upon as the symbol of one's chastity and purity. virginity is almost everything. hell you can't wear a tampon for fear of breaking the stupid hymen. you can't finger yourself. the first time you have sex on your wedding night it's supposed to be painful and you must bleed a lot. that way you reassure your husband that his tiny wiener is a huge monster dick.
some people think that losing one's virginity means the hymen is broken, not necessarily by sex but by other means such as horseriding or gymnastics. others classify it as strictly penile-vaginal penetration. i used to believe in the latter, but now i refuse to classify it as such. i have not figured out where to classify it, but now i refuse to call myself a virgin. i am simply a person who has not had sex. neither have i given my heart or mind or trust, but i think that such important aspects of one's being shouldn't be associated to that disgusting, purely physical term of "virgin".
charlene had so charmingly said, "i think virginity is overrated. these days, you can even fake it!"
someone told me that she considers her virginity her most precious part, that she won't surrender it until her wedding night. well to her credit i'm sure she'd hold still to that bargain, but your virginity ain't your most precious part. it's your heart and your mind, and most importantly your trust. sex is just sex. mere fucking. it feels good (well, sometimes), makes babies and kills time when time needs killing. granted, sex is better when love is involved, but sex as an act doesn't say much. i wouldn't consider the contact of two sexual organs as the giving up of your most precious part.
your body is material (same goes for your hymen) but your thoughts, your personality and all those abstract things that make you, you, they are immaterial. i'd rather give up my body than my heart. sex is merely a physical act, as i've said before. some people regard sex as the physical embodiment of giving in and receiving, of trusting and accepting trust. that's what they call meaningful sex. but there's also meaningless sex, where sex is simply a physical act, like exercising or masturbation, for the achievement of physical pleasure, nothing else. i have nothing against meaningful or meaningless sex. in fact, i'm rooting for team sex.
i'm not saying i'm a nymphoniac. i'm still a virgin after all. a physical virgin, and a mental/emotional one too. i've just not found the desire or the person with whom i want to have sex with. i'm sure i can easily find myself a sex partner, but i'm just not interested. besides i have ridiculously high standards, and the only person whom i can overlook these standards is myself. lesser males disgust me. especially lesser males who mistakenly believe they are alphas.
anyway back to the topic on virginity. in the olden days people associate virginity with purity and chastity and all those religious conservative nonsense. once you've had sex, you're unclean! you're a slut! you have to marry the rake who ravished you or face eternal condemnation from society! even if you're married, sex isn't meant for enjoyment! sex is for making babies! the only right way for having sex is the missionary position! if you're riding the man, you're the devil! it's these reasons that have shaped up the misguided notion about sex. if sex isn't meant for pleasure, then why the hell are we allowed to get orgasms? our nerve endings are there for a reason, innit? the kama sutra, written oh-so-long ago, has specified so many ways to screw, other than the missionary, so does that mean that all the women there are unholy bitches?
but i digress.
i suppose the main reason why sex is frowned upon as a taboo as due to the whole adam and eve fiasco. but if they didn't have sex, then there wouldn't be people in the world! we should thank them for discovering the use of their parts. then there's confucius in china who's one of the biggest asian chauvinistic bastards with his nonsense that women are beneath men. a bride's worth is in the state of her hymen?
of course, many people have abandoned the virginity issue, especially in liberal, developed countries. but here, where society is still strictly confucian chinese, islamic malay and um...hinduic indian (?) virginity is still looked upon as the symbol of one's chastity and purity. virginity is almost everything. hell you can't wear a tampon for fear of breaking the stupid hymen. you can't finger yourself. the first time you have sex on your wedding night it's supposed to be painful and you must bleed a lot. that way you reassure your husband that his tiny wiener is a huge monster dick.
some people think that losing one's virginity means the hymen is broken, not necessarily by sex but by other means such as horseriding or gymnastics. others classify it as strictly penile-vaginal penetration. i used to believe in the latter, but now i refuse to classify it as such. i have not figured out where to classify it, but now i refuse to call myself a virgin. i am simply a person who has not had sex. neither have i given my heart or mind or trust, but i think that such important aspects of one's being shouldn't be associated to that disgusting, purely physical term of "virgin".
charlene had so charmingly said, "i think virginity is overrated. these days, you can even fake it!"
Monday, June 12, 2006
Und es ward Licht!
ever since i was 12 years old, i had been trawling internet chatrooms, trying to find my soulmate. i thought, since i can't possibly fly all over the world, maybe i can access to people from other countries through the internet!
well it's been 7 years, and my mindset has changed considerably. true, i've met many wonderful people through the net and through chatrooms, but they aren't what i'm looking for in a partner. it's taken me all this time for me to realize that the kind of people i've been looking for aren't the type to waste their time sitting on their asses chatting on the internet.
university is going to open in two months' time, and i'm looking forward to it. finally i'll be able to meet people not just from my district, but from around the world. i'm sure i wouldn't be able to find my soulmate amongst them, but it'll wean me off being a chatroom queen to being a real human being.
and i'm sure in campus, no random pervert would come up to me and say, "hey, asl pls."
well it's been 7 years, and my mindset has changed considerably. true, i've met many wonderful people through the net and through chatrooms, but they aren't what i'm looking for in a partner. it's taken me all this time for me to realize that the kind of people i've been looking for aren't the type to waste their time sitting on their asses chatting on the internet.
university is going to open in two months' time, and i'm looking forward to it. finally i'll be able to meet people not just from my district, but from around the world. i'm sure i wouldn't be able to find my soulmate amongst them, but it'll wean me off being a chatroom queen to being a real human being.
and i'm sure in campus, no random pervert would come up to me and say, "hey, asl pls."
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Mine Herte's Melody
No one would listen
No one but her
Hear as the outcast hears
Shamed into solitude
Shunned by the multitude
I learned to listen
In my dark, my heart heard music
I long to teach the world
Rise up and reach the world
No one would listen
I alone could hear the music
Then at last, a voice in the gloom
Seemed to cry, "I hear you!
I hear your fears,
Your torment and your tears!"
She saw my loneliness
Shared in my emptiness
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears...
- gerald butler as phantom, "No One Would Listen"
No one but her
Hear as the outcast hears
Shamed into solitude
Shunned by the multitude
I learned to listen
In my dark, my heart heard music
I long to teach the world
Rise up and reach the world
No one would listen
I alone could hear the music
Then at last, a voice in the gloom
Seemed to cry, "I hear you!
I hear your fears,
Your torment and your tears!"
She saw my loneliness
Shared in my emptiness
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears...
- gerald butler as phantom, "No One Would Listen"
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Thou Shalt Not Waite Long
one day, when i am rich and famous, i shall commission Nicola Constantino to make me a corset gown cast with my own nipples all over, and i shall wear it for red carpet events.
i shall purchase Frida Kahlo's A Broken Column and Love Embrace of the Universe and hang them in the living room of my Bohemian-chic Paris townhouse.
i shall have an antique carved harpsicord, an ornate Beirut-made harp and a set of ancient Zulu drums as grace notes to my drawing room.
i shall have gold fixtures and turquoise tiles and Babylonian-inspired wall friezes in my bathroom.
i shall drive a ginormous Porsche handpainted with Pre-Raphaelite references.
ah, when i am rich and famous.
i shall purchase Frida Kahlo's A Broken Column and Love Embrace of the Universe and hang them in the living room of my Bohemian-chic Paris townhouse.
i shall have an antique carved harpsicord, an ornate Beirut-made harp and a set of ancient Zulu drums as grace notes to my drawing room.
i shall have gold fixtures and turquoise tiles and Babylonian-inspired wall friezes in my bathroom.
i shall drive a ginormous Porsche handpainted with Pre-Raphaelite references.
ah, when i am rich and famous.
Monday, May 15, 2006
SHITE HATH LANDETH!!
god gives me an opportunity, and i screw it up by shutting up. why, Zoot, why? why can't i just say something like, "i think you've got cool hair?" or "would you like a head massage?" or even "shall we play punch-u punch-me?"
but i HAD to shut up and keep quiet.
i am PATHETIC!!!!!!!!!
but i HAD to shut up and keep quiet.
i am PATHETIC!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
He Doth Not Seeketh Me
When he passes me by
He's a ray of light
Like the first drop of sun
From the sky
And I know he's a king
Who deserves a queen
But I'm not a queen
And he doesn't see me
When he dances
He moves me to a smile
And I see everything
Near him shine
There's a grace in his ways
That I can't contain
I haven't that grace
Oh, I haven't that grace
And the closer he gets
I can't help but hide
So ashamed
Of my body and voice
There are boundaries
We pass in spite of the war
But our own
We can't seem to cross
She has a way that surrounds her
So delicate
With a glory that reigns in her life
She is also so much that she is not
These things I can't see
'Cause he doesn't see me
Oh... And he doesn't see me
There are things we can change
If we just choose to fight
But the walls of injustice are high
When he passes me by
He's a ray of light
Like the first drop of sun
From the sky
And I know he's a king
Who deserves a queen
Someone other than me
So different from me
--sarah brightman, He Doesn't See Me
He's a ray of light
Like the first drop of sun
From the sky
And I know he's a king
Who deserves a queen
But I'm not a queen
And he doesn't see me
When he dances
He moves me to a smile
And I see everything
Near him shine
There's a grace in his ways
That I can't contain
I haven't that grace
Oh, I haven't that grace
And the closer he gets
I can't help but hide
So ashamed
Of my body and voice
There are boundaries
We pass in spite of the war
But our own
We can't seem to cross
She has a way that surrounds her
So delicate
With a glory that reigns in her life
She is also so much that she is not
These things I can't see
'Cause he doesn't see me
Oh... And he doesn't see me
There are things we can change
If we just choose to fight
But the walls of injustice are high
When he passes me by
He's a ray of light
Like the first drop of sun
From the sky
And I know he's a king
Who deserves a queen
Someone other than me
So different from me
--sarah brightman, He Doesn't See Me
Saturday, May 06, 2006
I Hath Moveth
new house has nice view out of window, really like another country. room looks like shit now cos boxes all over the place.
feel really lonely due to confinement. miss civilization. can't wait to see him again and then break my heart cos he doesn't even know i exist.
proof: concert day he kept looking at my direction. then he came over, walked past me to the lady behind me, and said, "you were trying to tell me something?"
see? he wasn't looking at me at all. sad, right? me, reduced to wallpaper.
sigh.
Aspiration: Meet Someone New. +1000.
feel really lonely due to confinement. miss civilization. can't wait to see him again and then break my heart cos he doesn't even know i exist.
proof: concert day he kept looking at my direction. then he came over, walked past me to the lady behind me, and said, "you were trying to tell me something?"
see? he wasn't looking at me at all. sad, right? me, reduced to wallpaper.
sigh.
Aspiration: Meet Someone New. +1000.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
La Dolce del mio Cuore Amore
the title is evidence of my weak grasp of Italian grammar.
anyway, yesterday's teaching was HORRENDOUS. the kids were absolutely monstrous. they were colossally stupid! i bet i wasn't as stupid as they were at their age. and why can't they stay in their bloody seats? yes, they are really disgustingly cute, but they'd be cuter if they were running around screaming and on fire.
so it was such a bad day. 3 kids went home crying, 4 of them were fighting, and 1 was sent out of the class in disgrace. i felt sick and light-headed, and my throat was all constricted and parched. then i had to prepare for the next day's class, but then i realised i forgot my esplanade pass so i have to go home to get it.
on the train to esplanade i was almost in tears because i felt SO shitty and sick. luckily there was audrey. laughter and good food cheered me up much, but i still felt yucky. then we went for practice, and there was him. my seat had such a clear unadulterated view, i spent more time looking at him than at the conductor.
and just by looking at him made me feel so much better and so much happier, even though i know that he doesn't know i exist.
anyway, yesterday's teaching was HORRENDOUS. the kids were absolutely monstrous. they were colossally stupid! i bet i wasn't as stupid as they were at their age. and why can't they stay in their bloody seats? yes, they are really disgustingly cute, but they'd be cuter if they were running around screaming and on fire.
so it was such a bad day. 3 kids went home crying, 4 of them were fighting, and 1 was sent out of the class in disgrace. i felt sick and light-headed, and my throat was all constricted and parched. then i had to prepare for the next day's class, but then i realised i forgot my esplanade pass so i have to go home to get it.
on the train to esplanade i was almost in tears because i felt SO shitty and sick. luckily there was audrey. laughter and good food cheered me up much, but i still felt yucky. then we went for practice, and there was him. my seat had such a clear unadulterated view, i spent more time looking at him than at the conductor.
and just by looking at him made me feel so much better and so much happier, even though i know that he doesn't know i exist.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
I Walketh the Darke Night
came home late, about 2 AM and dad wasn't very happy.
met Satan last night. seriously. that fellow's initials are S A Tan. it was funny. mickey and benson and i went out for late night dinner and met with his friend Satan and Satan's young advocate, which sad to say i forgot his name. first we went to this place with such bad service that we left without paying. then we went to another place with fantastic chicken wings.
then we told jokes, which were hilarious. i told them the indian-pakistani soldiers joke, which became joke of the night. i find that laughter is better than alcohol!
then mickey missed the exit to my place, so we wound up going to benson's to drop him off first, and we kept making the wrong turns. it wasn't so bad, cos at least we had KISS to headbang to. then the emperor a.k.a dad called to command the princess home.
i thought he'd be mad, but he wasn't. he just looked...disappointed?
met Satan last night. seriously. that fellow's initials are S A Tan. it was funny. mickey and benson and i went out for late night dinner and met with his friend Satan and Satan's young advocate, which sad to say i forgot his name. first we went to this place with such bad service that we left without paying. then we went to another place with fantastic chicken wings.
then we told jokes, which were hilarious. i told them the indian-pakistani soldiers joke, which became joke of the night. i find that laughter is better than alcohol!
then mickey missed the exit to my place, so we wound up going to benson's to drop him off first, and we kept making the wrong turns. it wasn't so bad, cos at least we had KISS to headbang to. then the emperor a.k.a dad called to command the princess home.
i thought he'd be mad, but he wasn't. he just looked...disappointed?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Alas, My Heart Weepeth
take my hand, i'm a stranger in paradise
all lost in a wonderland
a stranger in paradise
if i stand starry eyed
there's a danger in paradise
for mortals who stand beside
an angel like you
i saw your face ascending
out of the common place
and into the rare
and somewhere out in space
i hang suspended
until i'm certain that
there's a chance that you care
won't you answer the fervent prayer
of a stranger in paradise
don't send me in dark despair
from all that i hunger for
but open your angel's arms
to this stranger in paradise
and tell her that she need be
a stranger no more
- sarah brightman, "Stranger in Paradise"
one more day of seeing my heart's desire. one more day of restraining my emotions before him. one more day of silence. one more day of unknown joy.
i can never talk to him. there is nothing for me to say to him, and nothing for him to say to me. we are just too far apart, even though we are sitting in the same room, just feet away from each other.
he doesn't know i exist.
which is fucking irritating because in the past, i always know how to make myself exist. if my target doesn't make the first move, i will be able to nudge him or her into making the move. but not with him. because he is just so high up, he isn't aware of lesser mortals like me.
but he is human like me, like everyone else, you'd protest. be a woman and talk to him.
well, considering the fact that he is about 30 years older than me, and is probably married or gay, it makes things difficult, doesn't it?
so i have to settle for silent adoration on my part, and blissful ignorance for his. why is life so complicated now? why can't i just settle for a nice normal boy my age?
because i deserve better than just a nice normal boy. a nice normal boy wouldn't be able to understand the complexity of my nature. a nice normal boy wouldn't be able to endure my fickleness, flightiness, violent mood swings, he wouldn't be able to debate intellectual ideas and discuss philosophy with me, and he wouldn't be able to provide the deep-rooted stability i hunger for.
now i have to wait till the next time i see him. then when i see him, it is one more day of restraining my emotions, one more day of silence, and one more day of unknown joy.
all lost in a wonderland
a stranger in paradise
if i stand starry eyed
there's a danger in paradise
for mortals who stand beside
an angel like you
i saw your face ascending
out of the common place
and into the rare
and somewhere out in space
i hang suspended
until i'm certain that
there's a chance that you care
won't you answer the fervent prayer
of a stranger in paradise
don't send me in dark despair
from all that i hunger for
but open your angel's arms
to this stranger in paradise
and tell her that she need be
a stranger no more
- sarah brightman, "Stranger in Paradise"
one more day of seeing my heart's desire. one more day of restraining my emotions before him. one more day of silence. one more day of unknown joy.
i can never talk to him. there is nothing for me to say to him, and nothing for him to say to me. we are just too far apart, even though we are sitting in the same room, just feet away from each other.
he doesn't know i exist.
which is fucking irritating because in the past, i always know how to make myself exist. if my target doesn't make the first move, i will be able to nudge him or her into making the move. but not with him. because he is just so high up, he isn't aware of lesser mortals like me.
but he is human like me, like everyone else, you'd protest. be a woman and talk to him.
well, considering the fact that he is about 30 years older than me, and is probably married or gay, it makes things difficult, doesn't it?
so i have to settle for silent adoration on my part, and blissful ignorance for his. why is life so complicated now? why can't i just settle for a nice normal boy my age?
because i deserve better than just a nice normal boy. a nice normal boy wouldn't be able to understand the complexity of my nature. a nice normal boy wouldn't be able to endure my fickleness, flightiness, violent mood swings, he wouldn't be able to debate intellectual ideas and discuss philosophy with me, and he wouldn't be able to provide the deep-rooted stability i hunger for.
now i have to wait till the next time i see him. then when i see him, it is one more day of restraining my emotions, one more day of silence, and one more day of unknown joy.
Monday, April 03, 2006
No, Not Thine
i can never love a man i don't respect.
it's not like what mickey says, that the man has to be better than me. that's bullcrap.
what i meant was that the man has to have some quality that i can look up to and admire. i can't really explain what quality, but it's nothing superficial. attractive men, yeah, i like looking at them. but usually the men that i really like aren't good-looking.
like for example, i told my brother once that if i could marry a celebrity, it'd be alan cumming. he's skinny, he's weird, but i really, really respect him. for his skill, his mind, his intelligence. i think he's really good-looking, but none of my friends think so. they are all, "that weirdo from spy kids???"
i like intelligent men. i really do. but i don't like those that brag about their intelligence and show off and look down on less-informed people. i like my men quiet and serious and humble. he has to be philantrophic and practical, but not terribly grounded. i know many of my friends would think that a loud and funny person would suit me better, because to them i'm a crazy, high-falootin' and carefree person, but i'm not. i know myself better.
i despise men who think they're the best thing that ever happened to womankind. i despise men who try too hard to prove that too. i despise men who try to impress and to dominate. yes, especially the latter. it's not that i'm a dominatrix (and to that guy who asked if he could kiss my feet, no, you are not fit to even breathe my air, limpdick) and that i like submissive men. i will only be submissive to a man i truly respect and love.
i think i'm growing up.
this is alan cumming, FYI.
it's not like what mickey says, that the man has to be better than me. that's bullcrap.
what i meant was that the man has to have some quality that i can look up to and admire. i can't really explain what quality, but it's nothing superficial. attractive men, yeah, i like looking at them. but usually the men that i really like aren't good-looking.
like for example, i told my brother once that if i could marry a celebrity, it'd be alan cumming. he's skinny, he's weird, but i really, really respect him. for his skill, his mind, his intelligence. i think he's really good-looking, but none of my friends think so. they are all, "that weirdo from spy kids???"
i like intelligent men. i really do. but i don't like those that brag about their intelligence and show off and look down on less-informed people. i like my men quiet and serious and humble. he has to be philantrophic and practical, but not terribly grounded. i know many of my friends would think that a loud and funny person would suit me better, because to them i'm a crazy, high-falootin' and carefree person, but i'm not. i know myself better.
i despise men who think they're the best thing that ever happened to womankind. i despise men who try too hard to prove that too. i despise men who try to impress and to dominate. yes, especially the latter. it's not that i'm a dominatrix (and to that guy who asked if he could kiss my feet, no, you are not fit to even breathe my air, limpdick) and that i like submissive men. i will only be submissive to a man i truly respect and love.
i think i'm growing up.
this is alan cumming, FYI.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Mother, Thou Art Mine Undoing
i can't talk to my mother. she has the attention span of a three-year-old. i try to tell her something, and barely has two words escaped my lips, she butts in and talks about something completely different. take this for example:
me: ma, you know--
ma: (turning to look at TV) wow, look at the Miss Singapore contestants! why that one so chubby?? (turning back at me) like that you can take part also...
me: yes, whatever. you know about--
ma: (turning back to TV) wah, the new season of LOST!
me: yes. i'm--
ma: (still looking at TV) my colleague was saying, "i watched LOST till i got lost!" and i told her, "that's why it's called LOST mah!"
me: i'm trying to--
ma: (turning to me) you cut your hair, is it?
me: er yes, last week. you know--
ma: (turning to TV) isn't it great that Singapore won gold, silver and bronze for table tennis?
me: MA!!! I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING!!!
ma: (turning back to me) then just say it lah!! you don't have to be so rude right?
me: i was trying to tell you but you just KEPT TALKING!!!!
ma: was i talking? i wasn't talking at all! i was waiting for you to tell me your news.
me: yes you were, and you made me forget what i wanted to say.
ma: you're damn blur leh. you're only nineteen and your memory is so bad.
sometimes, i fear that my mother is becoming senile. and the truth is, i didn't forget what i wanted to say. i just told her i forgot, because it's no point telling her. she'd just butt in again before i can even begin to speak.
me: ma, you know--
ma: (turning to look at TV) wow, look at the Miss Singapore contestants! why that one so chubby?? (turning back at me) like that you can take part also...
me: yes, whatever. you know about--
ma: (turning back to TV) wah, the new season of LOST!
me: yes. i'm--
ma: (still looking at TV) my colleague was saying, "i watched LOST till i got lost!" and i told her, "that's why it's called LOST mah!"
me: i'm trying to--
ma: (turning to me) you cut your hair, is it?
me: er yes, last week. you know--
ma: (turning to TV) isn't it great that Singapore won gold, silver and bronze for table tennis?
me: MA!!! I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING!!!
ma: (turning back to me) then just say it lah!! you don't have to be so rude right?
me: i was trying to tell you but you just KEPT TALKING!!!!
ma: was i talking? i wasn't talking at all! i was waiting for you to tell me your news.
me: yes you were, and you made me forget what i wanted to say.
ma: you're damn blur leh. you're only nineteen and your memory is so bad.
sometimes, i fear that my mother is becoming senile. and the truth is, i didn't forget what i wanted to say. i just told her i forgot, because it's no point telling her. she'd just butt in again before i can even begin to speak.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Get Medieval On Thy Ass
i think the best gift someone could do for me is to write me an opera. like what andrew lloyd webber did for sarah brightman. he wrote her a musical. but i'd like a full-length opera and call it Zoot la Triumphant or something like that.
why? because come on, writing me just a little song isn't enough. anyone can write a song. but it takes a genius to write an opera. and i like genii.
and because i'm my biggest fan, i'm going to write an opera for myself. tra-la-la!
why? because come on, writing me just a little song isn't enough. anyone can write a song. but it takes a genius to write an opera. and i like genii.
and because i'm my biggest fan, i'm going to write an opera for myself. tra-la-la!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Giveth A Little Respect
the 80's song A Little Respect by Erasure has been running through my head the whole bloody fucking day.
thatchugimmeno thatchugimmeno thatchugimmeno sooooooooouuuul
i hear you caaaaaaaaaalliiiiiiiiiiiiing
oh baby pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase
give a little respect tooooooooo meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!
anyway i went to see michelle at lido (again!) today and bought 3 mascaras and an eyelash base. yup. i bought 4 lash things in one day. spent about a hundred bucks ON MY EYELASHES. but they look fucking great now. so the lesson of the day is: the more shit you put on your eyelashes, the thicker and longer they become, but you must put the right shit on.
there are so many makeup items i want to get because i'm running out. and also i finally discovered and understood the reason why 1 of each item is not enough. so now i need to get:
thatchugimmeno thatchugimmeno thatchugimmeno sooooooooouuuul
i hear you caaaaaaaaaalliiiiiiiiiiiiing
oh baby pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase
give a little respect tooooooooo meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!
anyway i went to see michelle at lido (again!) today and bought 3 mascaras and an eyelash base. yup. i bought 4 lash things in one day. spent about a hundred bucks ON MY EYELASHES. but they look fucking great now. so the lesson of the day is: the more shit you put on your eyelashes, the thicker and longer they become, but you must put the right shit on.
there are so many makeup items i want to get because i'm running out. and also i finally discovered and understood the reason why 1 of each item is not enough. so now i need to get:
- eyebrow pencil
- pencil eyeliner (black and brown)
- powder highlighter
- cream highlighter
- dark contouring powder
- lip gloss (tube kind and wand kind)
- loose powder
- pressed powder
- liquid foundation
- metal eyelash comb
- that particular black/grey/white eyeshadow compact
- lip pencil (red, pink and nude)
every girl needs some face paint, and i just like having lots of it. tra-la-la!
Monday, March 13, 2006
When A Man Loveth A Man
to question homosexuality we must also question religions, and ultimately question the existence of God.
is the bible the word of God? why must the Bible be the word of God? why did God only appear then? why didn't God appear when life appeared on earth? so did everyone before Jesus Christ go to hell? why is God, the Almighty, being so cruel then? christianity began as a cult. then its followings grew, and it became a religion. similar religions like Judaism and Islam i.e. Judeo-Christian religions suppresses and condemns other religions as pagan and devil-worshipping. if a cult grew in following, and becomes a widely-accepted belief, does that become the truth? there are so many people all over the world, and God, who is "fair and just", only appeared to the Hebrews? so the pantheon of gods common to the Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, Indians, Chinese, Babylonians and Africans, they are all faces of the devil. does this mean that God, the Almighty, the fair and the just, has allowed all these peoples to go to Hell? then if God created everything, surely homosexuality is a creation on God's part?
are women biologically inferior to men? women and men have the same basic living organs, and the only distinguishing factors are the sexual organs. why? because humans need to procreate. the two sexes are to ensure reproduction and survival of the human race. so then a woman is every bit as important as a man, and man's equal. is a female dog inferior to a male dog? is a female cat inferior to a male cat?
therefore why is it that in Judeo-Christian societies, women are considered inferior? did God intend for that to be so? but God is fair and just, isn't He? some people claim that men's bodies are built to work and protect and fight, while women's bodies are built to bear babies and nurture and care, therefore men, being stronger, is superior. however, men are unable to do what women do. so does this now mean that women, being able to carry life and nourish life, are superior? neither is correct. men and women are equal. one can do what the other can't. therefore no sex is superior or inferior. why then are women considered lowly compared to men then, in Judeo-Christian societies?
why is God male? does that say anything about His justness and fairness for being a male?
okay i'm going to eat my tuna sandwich now, bye-bye.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Thus Quoth Lord Jeekon
beauty is only skin-deep; beneath that is gross anatomy.
my brother i.e. smartest person in the world according to me, said the above line (because he is a medical student, and he has to study bones and flesh etc). isn't that so true? our beauty is determined upon the skin stretched over our muscles and bones etc. oh yeah the way our muscles and bones lie also contribute to our final outcome, but come on. how pretty is a skinless person? you can have a gorgeous bone structure, but without your skin people just think you're a freak.
what is wrong with plastic surgery? i don't see what's wrong with surgically enhancing one's features, or even completely changing one's face (as long as one isn't an axe murderer/terrorist running away from the law). we aren't interfering with God's work. if it were, God wouldn't have allowed us to discover plastic surgery, innit?
people say, love yourself, be yourself etc. i loved myself when i had small eyes and single eyelids with cysts growing in them. you can ask my friends and family. i loved myself so much that i have a bruise on my back from patting myself so hard. but now that i have cyst-free double eyelids i love myself even more.
about the be yourself part, i'm still the same person i am. i am still myself. my outward appearance may change, but my character and personality remains fixed. it's like clothes. you put on clothes and take them off, but your body still remains the same body underneath the clothes. you paint your face with makeup and wash it off; your face still stays on your head.
can you imagine washing your face, and your eyes, nose and lips just dissolve with the soap suds and get splashed off with water, and you end up with just a blank expanse of skin where your face was?
that had no relevance to my argument, but i just felt like saying it.
anyway i'm too lazy to continue writing. tra-la-la.
my brother i.e. smartest person in the world according to me, said the above line (because he is a medical student, and he has to study bones and flesh etc). isn't that so true? our beauty is determined upon the skin stretched over our muscles and bones etc. oh yeah the way our muscles and bones lie also contribute to our final outcome, but come on. how pretty is a skinless person? you can have a gorgeous bone structure, but without your skin people just think you're a freak.
what is wrong with plastic surgery? i don't see what's wrong with surgically enhancing one's features, or even completely changing one's face (as long as one isn't an axe murderer/terrorist running away from the law). we aren't interfering with God's work. if it were, God wouldn't have allowed us to discover plastic surgery, innit?
people say, love yourself, be yourself etc. i loved myself when i had small eyes and single eyelids with cysts growing in them. you can ask my friends and family. i loved myself so much that i have a bruise on my back from patting myself so hard. but now that i have cyst-free double eyelids i love myself even more.
about the be yourself part, i'm still the same person i am. i am still myself. my outward appearance may change, but my character and personality remains fixed. it's like clothes. you put on clothes and take them off, but your body still remains the same body underneath the clothes. you paint your face with makeup and wash it off; your face still stays on your head.
can you imagine washing your face, and your eyes, nose and lips just dissolve with the soap suds and get splashed off with water, and you end up with just a blank expanse of skin where your face was?
that had no relevance to my argument, but i just felt like saying it.
anyway i'm too lazy to continue writing. tra-la-la.
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