Tuesday, February 27, 2007

sunrise...

It's like that song from Fiddler on the Roof.


Sunrise, sunset;
sunrise, sunset...

The sun rises early. Summer months are still hanging around, but the bar's closing.

Been so bloody depressed recently. A lot of things are saying. If I didn't leave the old place, if nothing had changed, if I didn't give in to a weakness. It's like a karmic rebalance, like there's no way you can have bad luck forever. And no way you can be happy without being sad.

Again I worry if I'll ever see home again. It shouldn't matter, because it doesn't. But already in my innermost of voices, it's whispering that there will most likely not be another sunrise on the things I've waved goodbye to.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

mirrors...

So I'm here. And tomorrow is another trudging back to campus to begin a year of pointless mugging. Except I won't. I only do assignments and shit and sometimes attend lectures.

My room has mirrors. All across the wall containing the built-in robes. It freaks me out, mostly because it's not a single mirror, it's many many mirror tiles kinda like the ones on Darien's stair landing. Freaky. I'll patch the thing up later with black sugar paper. So one wall is gonna be totally goth.

I find I miss inanimate objects more than I miss people. Yesterday, I found a brand new white turtleneck in my stuff I left behind. I almost cried for the neglect I inflicted on it. Yes, my dear. One day when I'm not so hideously fat, I will wear you. And wear you I will. One day, when I'm not so fugly that I'll further break the mirrors on the wall that already freak me out, I'll wear all of you poor ignored clothes. And you will be glad that after such a long wait, you will finally grace the form of something less resembling an overripe fruit.

I'm feeling terribly alone. Is that what 4-month-long holidays do to you? Maybe they do. Or perhaps it's the idea I'll never see a lot of things again. If that's so, I don't know how well I'll take death.

Friday, February 16, 2007

i hate...

... me.

Whee.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

since i've been gone...

It's hard to notice someone's missing when they're never around, yes?

Sounds kinda like my social life.

Anyhoo, a short pictoral display with suitable accompanying notations should serve to explain lots.

First, or last, loh sang of the year for the cousin who's Norway bound. Have fun, Jee.


Six thousand feet into the air. My feet lay about half a foot away from the opposite wall. Small room, to be told.


Indeed, the very air of the building lent itself to very Silent Hill type situations.


But the rest of the weekend was a bout of senseless thrill seeking.




Hard to get sophic about getting sunburnt from trying to maximize a 51 buck all-park ticket. Or wax lyrical about being fat. Hooh.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

housekeeping...

Job's gonna end in a week. 4 more working days to go. So I'll have something to do, I think I'm gonna redo the links.

Drop a comment if you'd like me to link you. To existing link-ees, please ALSO leave a comment so it won't be a bitch for me to re-link you. I always start from scratch.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

envy...

Hello all ultra-feminists.

A reminder that there's no such things as gender equality.

Crying foul for apparent unequal job and social oppurtunities and throwing a hissy fit if some bloke doesn't pick up the cheque or hold the door open for you is kind of a bad way to prove a point. Even worse if you get all bitchy if he DOES pay the cheque and hold the door open.

You are not the equal of a penis bearer. You do not produce sperm or even semen for that matter. Unlike you, we rarely, if ever, bleed monthly.

Not to say of the superiority of either, but look at it this way. Having a penis does not guarantee a promotion. Indeed, it's a bit harder to seduce the very hetero-boss (they usually are, but who knows?) with a piece of man-flesh. There is no such thing as a too small clitoris. Admittedly, much ado has been made over the size of breasts, but then again, large man-boobs are generally undesirable.

Then there's multiple orgasms, and nicer bathrooms.
Being able to write your name in the snow is kinda great, but remember that temperate climates account for less than 30% of the populated areas in the world (statistics are entirely made up for brevity and lack of effort). But I don't think the incidences of having stuff falling or clamping on your collective urethras happen very often (believe me, some nasty things just seem to seek out penises).

For super-mega-uber-dykes out there still burning bras, give me a moment. Some psychologists call it penis envy. While I'll have to say a penis is a great thing to have, I'm not sure why you would be envious of it. You can't technically be called a wanker if you have no wang to pull. Repeatedly. In varying styles. And there's still that whole laundry list of dangerous things that could happen to a penis (which I will not elaborate on here).

Still want "equal" rights? Sure. When the first man to produce something the size of a watermelon out of the end of his penis starts demanding the right to act like a total bitch once every 30 or so days because "it's that time of the month". Or when two blokes making out become "hot" to the general populace. Or at least when they start giving us toilets with sofas and a widescreen TV that causes unimaginable lines especially at lunch hour. And multiple orgasms.

Till then, be satisfied that it's still illegal to beat a woman if you have a penis even lightly, while it's perfectly understandable that she fling dangerous items at you while hurling slander in your face. Or how the mother always gets custody (people should just NOT get married I'm telling you), and maternity leave makes sense (where a paternal break is also called Father's Day, where you spend the day amusing your children like a trained monkey).

Remember ladies, having a vagina is not a disability. At least not technically.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

hobo...

Never figured out where the word hobo came from anyway.

About a month and a bit before I go back and become a hobo. Sitting on the street in crap clothes with a cheap plastic bag full of life's possessions; whiskey flask, broken toothbrush, 27 cents in foreign exchange, an album of shiny but otherwise worthless cards (can be used to flash stun pigeons for lunch, though) and the collections of a snapped sanity.

If that should ever happen, I hope I will still have the sanity to at least kill myself first.

Or I could always just continue the househunt. Could always just, eh?

There's nothing doing with falling out of bed. Not this morning anyway. I was rudely awakened by the noise of someone hogging the bathroom.