alone again...

I'm freezing my nipples off again. Why the fuck the Web is so cold when you don't need it to and hot when you need cold is beyond me. At any rate, I guess even all this extra blubber don't help nuts when you're as stupid as I am wearing a sleeveless in Taylor's. Ah well.

This was an interesting day. I'm graduating (surprise surprise). I went to the staff room, and Ms Wong was saying, "aiyah, Eu Jin! You missed it la!" over and over again. And I said, "missed what?" And then she said "aiyah, you just missed it la!" And I asked, "missed what?" and she said "nevermind. Better you don't know." Then she ran off laughing. What the?

It seems that Ms Nirmala called a few people to tell them they were top in something or some other. I didn't get a call. Gasp! That means I'm not top in anything! Oh well. It does well once in awhile to be reduced to a pile of annoyed crap.

Mr Leow is not very entertaining. Not to mention, he doesn't seem interested in doing something we said we'd be doing at least ONCE throughout this year. No, it's not making out. Don't be disgusting. It's DotA. Why, because we can. But he decided that foosball was more interesting than amusing me. I must punish him, mwahahahahaha!

On a more serious note, I dropped my 560 buck hard disk. Fuck!!! But, it works fine. But the beautiful casing is marred. Ergh. Benci betul. Ms Nazli is right; I damn suey.

Waiting here for the yearbook delivery. Need to oversee something, or someother. They should just make me boss of everything. As is, I don't have the fucking attention span to do anything useful anyways. Which, according to examples given in real life, is the precise criterion needed to make a world class leader. Just look at all the heads of government. At least I'll be getting my paws on the books long before the other grubby ones can touch my precious work. Mmm... My precious....

I shoulda brought in my hard disk. I have Tetris on it. Not to mention the installers of a damn fuckload many games. It's heaven to have a hard disk large enough to steal all of Pentagon's secrets and have space enough for a short feature length movie on why the building is in the shape of a regular polygon. I love technology.

Speaking of which, I forgot to go to PC Fair. D'oh!

I'm being really pathetic now. I'm trying to extend this writing spree as long as I can.

I wonder, what do I look like in the third person? I'm asuming, at best, forgetable, at worst, fugly. Right now is somewhere in between.

I need to do something with my hair. Graduation is tomorrow. I could probably get my hair cut and coloured too. Is any place open that late?

I'm broke. I bought a new 256 thumbdrive to replace one that SOMEONE in the Photography group lost, but I can't pin it on anyone specific, so I just take the fall. I hate being benevolent. It's making me bankrupt. On the other hand, I get to leech of people.

I'm being annoyed. Very. Argh!

Lemme think. Wait. I can't. Fuck.

Meh.

loose ends...

That's what life basically is. We're given these billions of threads, and our job is to weave an interesting tapestry for others to see. At lest, that's what we're supposed to do.

Too bad too often we spend time trying to gather together loose ends. Like that one job we didn't complete too well, or meet that person for one last time before going off to other ends of the world.

Sometimes, it's painful having to see our work in shreds. That is, too many loose ends, and you can't tell if it was better to cut off that one thread to clean it, or if it made more sense to weave it in it's place.

It looks that I'm leaving soon. If things go well. Melbourne is about 9000 km from here, if I'm not mistaken. I'll be in company of quite a few people from here, but there are some I'm not likely to see ever again. As is, I already am leaving ICPU, and some friends I had quite the honor to meet. So many of them are worth knowing are from all over the world, and stupid me has no capacity of fixing some sort of contact on a permanent basis with them. Guess I have to do that on Thursday.

One stage of my life is over. Almost all chance for the fun life I was planning on living is dying. Soon, it will be beyond resucitation. And somehow, I don't regret it.

I've never held myself a nostalgic person. And in all likelihood I'm not. But it's a bit hard to ignore all the possibilities. And the propositions. And all the things left undone, or things I could have fixed, had I taken the time.

What's done is done. What can be done, remains to be seen. Why do I recall everything that could have been when it doesn't really matter?

We have to be selfish for ourselves, because no one else is going to be selfish for us. The world is a place ripe for gang rape, in more ways than one. In all the lovey dovey ends we envision, it's liable that we will meet our demise in a less than pleasant manner.

It's a double edged sword, this is. A potato still grows in the ground, regardless of how we plant it. Likewise, all our hopes and memories and painful recalling only serves as that: things that once were. A regret is like a rotten potato. You may plant it, but it won't grow. But it may spoil the rest.

This has been an interesting year so far. A few more days remain to see if it will be a fucked up interesting one, or a relatively good interesting one. People, make me soar.

Meh.

i hate tags...

... although I must admit that they do give you something to write about when you have nothing good to say.

5 random things about me. Then again, what isn't?

1. I get sugar highs very easily.

Like seriously. It take probably a tablespoon of sugar, and I'll be high as a drunk jaybird on a Saturday afternoon. Last night, I needed a single honey stick, and I was basically rambling all through the night.

2. Bisexuality rocks!

It's not official, but I've been toying with the idea. Much like I toy the idea of everything. But it is quite a practical proposition. It basically doubles up your available market, and the rules of probability dictate that you will likely find your match out there.

3. I can bake.

I can bake. That's a fact. I can also sorta cook, but whether the results are masticable are debatable at best. I'm looking for interesting recipes, so if you have any, give me a call.

4. I don't look good naked.

Then again, how many people do?

5. Do not trust everything I say/do/write.

Whatever my concious will decides, what my internal motives are usually are unknown to me as is. So if I'm seemingly extra nice to you, it does not mean I'm hitting on you, or if I seem high, I may or MAY NOT be. So whatever you see, think a bit. Then again, thinking about me at all is not advisable at any time.

I would tag someone, but it's kinda pointless. If you like, you do lah.

Meh.

leaving prints...

Life is a beach. We cannot possibly walk it without leaving footprints. At one point or another, our stretch of coastline intersects with someone elses, and our footprints may be in the same places as theirs are.

If we could take a picture of that long line of imprints, we can see sometimes that they're straight, and other times they resemble a huge crossed pattern of jumbled messes. It's never truly clean, in that sense. It's kind of like the footprints you see in those how-to-dance books. Because life IS a dance, as well as a beach. Or it is a dance on the beach. It takes two to tango, and waltzing alone is sad.

Most are fortunate enough to find dance partners, even for a little while. Sadly, less than half of us are adequate dancers. Too often, we step on toes, mix steps up, badly bungle the whole affair. And for that, we are sometimes remembered. Usually more than those perfect routines. And sometimes, remembered for the worst of reasons. Like how it could have been better.

Sometimes, we pine for a particular partner, especially if the dance was unfinished. Or, the stroll was incomplete. It's like telling the other person to go ahead as you stop for that ice-cream.

I stopped for an ice-cream that's yet to come. I danced the wrong dance to the wrong music. Both times, I could have waited for better timing. Both times, I probably should have continued on my path alone. But loneliness likes company. Which is irony in the purest sense.

We should have artificial beaches with no-fat, no-sugar, no-fun, ice cream.

Meh.

reactionary...

From now on, I'm sticking to just reacting.

The whole of the past week, I've been taking active action to fix the problems around me. Only problem is, that they've either proved annoyingly difficult to fix, or created even bigger problems for me.

First, the yearbook. I took on a role that was basically not something I had to do. Yes, you people are pretty sick of hearing it, just as I'm pretty sick of writing about it. But it's a plain fact that I should NOT have taken it on. That said, it's turned out pretty well. Except now I'm extremely bitter against CERTAIN people. I hate their guts to hell, and I'd basically screw them over if I can.

Then it's the car bumper. On Thursday, I reversed into Volvo. Good thing it was Swedish, if not there'd be a whoopass dent in it. The driver (thank God for women drivers sometimes) didn't do anything, because there was no dent. My rear bumper fell off, but it was fixable, which I did. So yesterday, I think it was during in fucking long drive, not shortened in the least by my constantly getting lost. It fell off. Yea.

And aside from these two, there are a ton of other things I should just leave alone. Do nothing until it's too late to fix. NEVER EVER EVER EVER fix something if you're not specifically requested to. Notice I didn't use told because I don't take orders.

On another note, someone had a dream in which I died. Coolness. Why don't I ever get dreams I die in? At least, fantasy will reflect the reality I want. Ergh. And thankfully, my response was pure reaction rather than action. I think I'd somehow screw it up if I did add my opinion.

Next time someone asks me for my two cents worth, I'll tell them I'm broke. Like, really broke.

Meh.

it's almost all good...

Life is never perfect. The most you can do is hope that the limits of your graph approach perfect. Which in itself an impossibility. There is no upper limit or lower limit to how far you can go, and perfection is an absolute.

The yearbook is in print. I wish it had happened another way, but I personally fixed everything. Whatever input other people had basically paled in comparison to what I had to go through to make sure SOME people got their precious little books on time. If this seems like bragging, I so wish it was. I NEVER want to do that shit again. Thanks again to Mr Kuan who made it that much easier. For all your printing needs, I suggest you go to him. Very capable, and he can rush jobs too.

Papers were over yesterday. It was almost a relief. Almost. What's done is done, and a potato is round for good measure.

Now that I'm absolutely free, I guess I should resume plans on next Saturday. What to do, what to do...

I need to piano score for Fantasie Impromptu. Anyone have it?

I suppose it's good to be alive. As opposed to being not alive. As in, have no life. Dead is still better than living. But living with no life, is, erm, dead. Paradox.

Meh.

it always comes to this...

No matter how high you fly, at one point you will have to fall. No sky is so limitless that the reaches are infinite. Mine came crashing down rather abruptly. And multiple times at that.

I thought it was all finished. But they had problems with it, so I fixed it. Then it should have been done, no? But it wasn't. Again, there were issues, like too fat and what shit have they. They can't make life simple and straightforward for anyone these days. It's true that people are perpetually horny. That would explain why everyone's fucking things up for me. And all without me asking. How nice.

I just want to fucking get over this fucking yearbook. What the whole fucked up issue is, I have no bloody fucking idea. By right, it should be printed. But it was ugly. I fixed it, but then they wanted to correct grammatical errors. Fine, I did. Then they found more. And they wanted to change to British English. Program must be programme. Fine. Then they said Anucia looked like a fugly old goat and it was most unbecoming of a headmistress of the top private college in the country. Again, I tried to accomodate them by asking for another one. They said no, just shrink the picture and make it less obvious. And in the process, fuck the layout. No fucking way. I'm pretty much done with this. If it's not complete by today, for-fucking-get it. You can design your own. I'm gonna make money out of this by printing my own copies and you fucktards can kiss my unwashed ass.

Mr Kuan has been most helpful, considering that he has yet to gain an ounce of businesss from me. I'm quite horrendously sorry to put such a great guy through such a fucked up system. But like he said, he wouldn't have been in the business this long if he couldn't deal with such crap. Ah. Hope that his opinion of Dad does not decrease because of this.

I had a lot I wanted to say these few days. Lots of things to show. Then I realised I couldn't. I don't have the capacity. Or rather, I don't have the will. Whatever strength in me I have allowed to be sapped in the past week, kindly helping people I should have run pikes through, right up the ass. I'm such a nice person, someone told me. That's only because I feel that I have something to gain out of it. And since I haven't, I probably should rethink my strategy.

For those who know, Saturday next week is still on. I need the company at this point. It's too fucking infuriating to keep seeing the people I've been seeing the past week. By rights, I should have just killed myself, frame someone for my murder, and then watch sadistically (assuming I can) as they plead with watery shit leaking from their asses their innocence. I'd destroy myself if I could spite anyone bad enough. I spent too much time building up things that backstabbed me. And thick skin can only shield so much pain.

It's time to bite back. Or to get an ice cream.

Meh.