Sunday, 27th March 2011

Another addition to my list of places to visit- Russia. I guess I'd always thought of it as a royal country, I've always known it to be one of the largest in the world. My first exposure to it was while watching "Anastasia" in the early years of my teens. That's also where I discovered that I really like the name Dimitri. Photographs of Russia seem so breath-taking now. Everything looks so grand, from streetlamps to palaces. I would have no qualms about living there if it weren't for the language. I would live at so many places- from Vienna to Greece, if it weren't for the languages. Life would be so much easier if everyone were to just speak one language. Well, anyway, I've just finished two supp papers. Turned out I was right about having to take them, because I felt terrible after the Maths 2 and Immunology papers. Studied real hard this time, and got absolutely no help from anyone, so I hope I did all right. I'm never sure if my answers are correct in Maths, but I hope I'll clear them both by far.

Sunday, 20th March 2011

This feels like an endless race towards nothing.

Wednesday, 16th March 2011

Feeling like shit.

Sunday, 13th March 2011

She has a beauty that no one else seems to see.
She kind of reminds me of Audrey, in a way.
The same strange beauty through my eyes.

Saturday, 12th March 2011

I think I'm a little bit slow, but I just found out about the Tsunami that hit Japan yesterday.

This is what I get for refusing to read the newspapers. It always strikes me as a tiresome compilation of political articles, and of the views of people which I don't really care about. It's like "Stomp", where people don't have anything better to do than nitpick about something unimportant.

Anyway, just wanted to say, if I die suddenly anytime soon, thanks to you guys for reading my blog. It's something that has stayed with me for many years now, and my teenage life is forever immortalised on the internet. Maybe some aliens will find it and idolise me or something, you know?

It was pretty scary watching the video footage of the tsunami hitting Japan. It gobbled the land up like a biscuit, and the cars were still running on the roads when they got swallowed up by the water. I feel so terrible for those people, and I know it won't be long before it hits close to home.

So, thanks guys. If I live, I'll continue to blog. If I die, well, then, farewell.

For what it's worth, I love you guys :)

Friday, 11th March 2011

Just had a nightmare but everyone's busy.

Honey isn't picking up his phone, Glenn's at work, Vanessa's at attachment, Sya's probably out having fun somewhere.

I'm all alone again.

Dreamt that I was in this hostel-like event where my whole choir was, and I wanted to take a shower. Suddenly this unknown creepy guy (whom, I think, looked a bit like Edgar Allan Poe) came into the bathroom and stood there, refusing to move. I begged Honey to ask him to leave so I could shower, but Honey ignored me and joined the rest of the choir in cheering for something outside the window. It may have been some sort of kite-flying event.

I was upset, and went around looking for another bathroom, only to be followed by the creepy guy, who planted himself at the other bathroom too. Exasperated, I gave up on the idea of showering and joined the others.

The next thing I knew, Honey grabbed me and ran. I asked him where we were going, and he said, "to the ocean," and continued running. He said that we were going to stay in the water for a while until the "whole thing blew over", whatever it was. He suddenly stopped to stab a man repeatedly on the sidewalk, and laughed while he pulled me along and continued running towards the ocean. We ran and ran, and I remember being stupefied that he stabbed a man, and when I asked him why, he said it was for fun.

We ran and ran until we reached the water, and I had a float around me. We bobbed up and down on the surface, waiting for the days to pass.

Strange that I had such a dream. I felt rather depressed after.


Anyway, out with Glenn yesterday, I made a spontaneous decision to buy a book by Edgar Allan Poe. It was rather cheaply priced at $4.80, so what the heck, I gave it a shot. It seemed interesting enough, titled "Spirits of the Dead: tales and poems". I did some research on the author himself, and he looked a bit pained in all of his portraits, although displaying a rather trademark smirk at every sitting.

I opened the book last night, and fell instantly in love. I don't know what it is about classic literature, but I enjoy every moment of it. This morning, after listening to the ringing-tone of Honey's phone for too long, I picked up the book again, and read a poem.
It spoke to me.

"I have been happy, tho' in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known."

Saturday, 5th March 2011

He'd seen them, whispering quietly in the shadows, giggling whenever he looked over. They had been around for as long as he could remember, always smiling, always so carefree. The feathers stood out proudly on their backs, tickling their necks playfully.

He'd often wondered if he could, perhaps, one day grow his own wings, but he knew they were different. They weren't like Mr Charlie the carpenter, or Mrs Patts the baker. Whenever he caught a glimpse of them as a child, he would marvel at their wings to his mother, but she just frowned, creases forming between her eyes.

"You're too old for imaginary friends, sweetheart," she'd say, and he learnt overtime not to mention them anymore.

They flocked around him now, tickling him under his chin and continuing their incessant chatter, flitting around on feet that barely touched the ground. Eyes filled with wonder, their hands reached out to touch his hair, to prod at his skin, to stroke his worn-out clothes. With rosy cheeks above a smile, he held his arms out to them, and together they danced in the moonlight.

Every night after their joyful ritual, he would tread home with them trailing behind. Sometimes, they flew beside him, and only ever carried him once or twice. It would have been disastrous, had anyone been nearby to spot a boy floating six feet above the ground. He'd get home just when his dinner of stew and bread was being served. Sitting at the mahogany table with his mother, they would say Grace together before tucking in.

They tiptoed around the house, observing every painting, every wood-carving for the millionth time. His eyes followed them silently, obediently sipping his milk and chewing his bread. The beans always stopped steaming long before he finished.

There was not much to do after dinner; it was always too dark by then to go outside, and the house was bare, save for a pot above the fireplace, a table set and a hard bed. His mother had problems falling asleep with light, so the fire always had to be put out at bedtime. He would turn towards the open window to gaze at the moon, unable to fall asleep.

Time passed so slowly at those early hours of dawn, the pitch-dark blanket still covering the land asleep. His long black hair fell over lovely russet eyes, teeth just resting on his lower lip. He held his gaze on the majestic moon, never once faltering.

Feeling around in the dark for his stitched notebook and pencil, he wrote,

"Angels, ever bright and fair,
Take, oh, take me to your care."

4th March 2011

Thursday, 3rd March 2011

My dear readers, I am back!

I've just been through a whole series of tests and exams, all strung together in a stressful lot! Basic Microbiology and Cell Biology went pretty well, but Maths and Immunology didn't go so well. I'm rather nervous about having to take the supplementary papers, but perhaps more for Immunology.

It was a bloody difficult paper.

I've been making the most of my time since my papers ended. I've written a story, met up with two friends and Honey, and slept for a long time! I also made a headband out of foam roses, and almost pricked myself to death because it was near 2 in the morning. Can't wait to start on my drawings again!

The past semester has been a rather enriching experience, actually. Apart from putting in consistent effort into my studies, I also got to take the cross-disciplinary subjects I wanted, and met some really nice people. French had very excited, happy girls, full of laughter and rainbows. Creative Writing yielded more quiet and creative types, which I found very interesting. It had always been rather awkward in comparison to French class.

I also got to know my wonderful French teacher, whose spirit I shall never forget. Her smile lit up the room just like her yellow jacket and her ladybug shoes. Her hair stuck out on end like it had never been combed, and it framed a face with pretty eyes. She's one of the more special people I'd ever met.

Her words to me were, "Are you ready, my butterfly?"

Monday, 7th February 2011

It's been a hell of a long time since I last blogged.

Well, truth is, I've been busy, but I've also been blogging. It sounds strange when I say this, but since I've gotten an iPhone 4, my workload has piled extra high. It's not that I'm slacking or anything, just that there's so much work to do and so little time.

So, my dear readers, please forgive me.

It hurts me when I stop blogging on this blog, but this is just temporary, I promise.
I haven't found a good-enough blogger tool for iPhone yet, and frankly, it is thoroughly annoying that I can't blog straight on the website on my iPhone. It would be great to do it on-the-go, you know? I can hardly find time to pull out and set up my laptop nowadays, let alone come here to blog.

This night is an exception, even though I've got a quiz and voice lesson on Wednesday, a presentation tomorrow and a French speaking test on Thursday. By God, it's a miracle I'm still alive!

I'm listening to nostalgic songs while I type this. Clay Aiken used to be my world, and even years later, I still respect him so much. I'm glad he was my role model, I would have turned out entirely different otherwise.

Anyway, dear readers, I know you're out there somewhere. If you still want to follow me in my dramatic everyday life, injected with thoughts, philosophy and dead people, I'm on Twitter (claymadness) and Tumblr (www.claymadness.tumblr.com) as well, Tumblr being the easiest blogger tool on my phone right now.

Do bear in mind, however, that I'm a little more "free-spirited" there, so you might get a glance at beautiful photography coupled with deep thought of only a line or two, or perhaps some angsty moments in motormouth mode.

If you know me personally, please don't tell me off and/or confront me about my posts, it's just a very frank way to let things out. Thanks for reading my work, I'm happy to have readers :D

Last but not least for the night, this blog will be back in action after my major exams, which should end by early March.
Until then,

Ciao!

Friday, 7th January 2011

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by dentists.

Each visit to the dentist got me excited, especially if it involved the extraction of any of my teeth. I wanted the dentist to pull them out, I didn't even mind the drill. I looked forward to the dentist so much that I went there regularly for check-ups and cleaning.

I asked the dentist about everything! Sitting in that huge chair, I asked what this was for, what that was used for, what this button did, why we had to gargle during cleaning. One thing I really liked was the fountain with the automatic tap, where you placed a disposable cup for mouth-rinsing. I pressed the button when she wasn't watching.

One particular period of Primary School, t'was just before the June holidays, I had a rather shaky tooth. You know those shaky teeth that feel they can fall out anytime but still refuse to fall out? I was impatient and wanted it extracted, so I visited the dentist.
Twice.

And twice, she told me to come back again soon. June holidays arrived and I didn't get to see the dentist, and my tooth FELL OUT by itself!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I was very, very sad.
I think I was a rather strange kid. I wonder if that nudged me in the direction of medicine?

Thursday, 30th December 2010

I LOVE MY DOCS!

However, they're black, so this photo doesn't actually apply. I just like the colours in this one.

Can't believe how much I bought the other day. I bought the perfect pair of jeans, Dr Martens, tops.. In fact, I can't really remember what else I'd bought, except that I spent a lot. I felt guilty, but then again, I don't usually go on shopping sprees. I waited two years for a pair of Docs!

Just came home from a chalet and stay-over, and I'm pretty exhausted. I did somewhat miss the comfort of my laptop, because I was faced with having to blog on my iPhone, which didn't work at all because it didn't allow me to type anything for my post. I need to get it jailbroken to download the Blogger App for free.

Oh yeah, I got Twitter.

By the way,
tell me-

If people are so evil, why should I hope to save them?

draft

Saturday, 25th December 2010

New phone, new beginning.

Mom woke me in mid-slumber this morning. I was rather groggy as I hadn't had enough rest. Plus, I dreamt that the worms were out to get me!

Ehem.

Anyway, she told me to copy down and compare the details of the different iPhone 4 plans under different phone companies, and before I knew what was happening, she told me to get ready and Dad, Mom and I went down to the Singtel shop to get my new phone.

It turns out Mom has some kind of work bonus so many people in our family are changing their phones. Mine is an exceptional case, since the colour on the screen has gone all funny, the words linger after I cancel them, the buttons are cracked, the spacebar doesn't work, etc etc. Plus, I was surviving on a top-up card! However, I am proud to say that after almost 3 years of usage, it is still in quite good a condition. No scratches or anything!
Yes, I am a good phone owner.
You should see the care with which I treat my laptop. The people looked at me crazy when I brought my laptop and charger to get my charger changed. The original keyboard tissue-covering thingy is still there, and I store my laptop with a soft wipe-cloth.

So, well, I finally got what I wanted. I can't help feeling guilty, though. I am lucky, SO lucky. There's Wii, there's laptop, there are iPod(s), there's camera, now there's iPhone. I can't imagine the number of people this amount of money could feed. I felt guilty just having a feast on Christmas Day.

But, thank you, God. I know I am so lucky.
I wonder how Franco's doing now? Are Charlie, Oscar, Bob, Rabbit and Elvis throwing a party in Heaven? Philippe Jaroussky must be all snuggled up in his overcoat and sipping wine.

Please let me meet them all one day, some day, soon.
Thank you, God.
Merry Christmas.

Friday, 24th December 2010

Well, I finally got my candycane.

Beautifully coloured in vibrant red, green and white, it's peppermint flavoured, and two cost me a dollar. What luck :)

I've been rather desperate for a candycane since I missed the chance to buy one last year. I still haven't taken the first lick, so my tongue is still itching for a taste.

I used to wish my family's christmases would be so typical: huge decorated christmas tree with brightly-wrapped presents under it, christmas cookies and other sweets in the kitchen, turkey on the dining table, everyone just coming together to give and celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.
Only it wasn't to be.

My family's christmases have always been about food.
They've always been too lazy to cook for Christmas, and so we've always had order-in. Pizza, KFC, garlic bread, you name it. I've never had turkey.

Mom and Dad are kind of against any religion, so they obviously wouldn't celebrate Christmas being the birth of Christ. For them, anything is about food. Travel is about food, celebration is about food, birthdays are about food. I don't know what to say, I guess they just like to eat.

To this day I still wish for that typical Christmas. Fireplace alight, christmas tree in the corner, candycanes in socks, turkey and mash on the table, carols on the porch, cookies in the oven, candy on the counter, presents to open.

I wore my cargo pants out today.
I can't remember the last time I felt so happy and comfortable. My cramps immediately vanished into comforting space, my body could breathe, my soul was free.
I felt myself again.

Merry Christmas.

Wednesday, 22nd December 2010

How good it must feel to be that lion.

What I can't say out loud in real life, surely I can type on my blog?

And yet, when I'm ready to type about it, I can't seem to make the words flow from my fingertips.

I'm stuck.

Friday, 17th December 2010

I want to be there.

Term tests are finally over, the ones that I've been cramming so crazily for over the past few weeks, apart from the usual weekly quizzes. I'm still not so sure about my HPI paper, because there were some questions I really didn't know how to answer so hopefully, I'll manage to pass it.

Air-con repairmen are at my house now, repairing the air-conditioner in my room. It broke down in the middle of the night a day ago. I was left perspiring in bed, but was way too tired to get up and switch on the fan. I had been getting up at 6.30am just to get to school early. Yup, term test week was a crazy one.

My dear boy is having his last paper today.
I haven't had much time to reflect on our relationship lately. It's been pretty stressful, what with the pressure of school and tests and, you know, for a Biomed Science student, the work is always incoming. It gets to me and I think my subconscious turns mean, and I blurt out something jokingly-mean to him without realising it's hurtful.
I hate this.
I hate being mean to him. It's weird being mean to someone you love so much, you know? It's contradictory, and there's never reason in it. I don't like it when he talks about how I can't go overseas to study, when all I want is to get far away from here from all these people I know. I just want to be with things that can't talk back with me, can't reason, can't argue or pick fights. I'd even talk to Oscar Wilde's tombstone.
I don't like it when he tells me never to wear a particular piece of clothing again, because I don't look good in it. Sometimes I just want to heck it anyway because I'm having such a bad day and can't be bothered to deal with anyone else's unhappiness. And yet, time after time, I still can't being myself to wear the clothes he doesn't like.

I wonder if I'm lying to myself.
I cry about these things and, if you know me, you know I don't cry about just anything. I want to live life my way, do things I want, when I want, wear what I want, study what I want, work where I want, eat where I want, and not have to think about somebody else's opinions. That's what freedom is about, isn't it?

It's frustrating to cry about something stupid every two days, just because the other person is unhappy about it and starts to argue. I never argue back, I don't like to. Sometimes loneliness is best. I just want to steal away and sulk quietly somewhere, or buy a plane ticket out of here.

Yet, under all this, I know I still love him to bits.

Monday, 13th December 2010

What's so great about porn anyway?

Thursday, 9th December 2010

My heart took a plunge, my stomach twisted into a knot, my brain refused to function, my legs became numb, my hands turned cold at the touch of the HPI quiz 1 paper.

They'd finally given it back, and alas, I failed, by a mere 1 and a half marks. Again. Everybody around me were comparing results, exclaiming and swearing about their 25/30 marks.
I know, I should be used to it by now. I've been in Biomedical Science for over half a year, I should've gotten used to how kiasu the students are, the stress levels, the system and workload, but no, apparently not.

My hands grasped the thin paper, and then quietly slipped it under a pile of papers in my file. They worked quietly, quickly and expertly, as if having practised this move too many times. I guess they have.
At that very moment, I thought I was quite smart, asking for a blank piece of foolscap paper to copy the model answers as the teacher went through, so nobody would see my results. Bloody teacher. So much for a high-ranked lecturer, her attitude shows nothing. In fact, she's always been rather repulsive in character, at least, in the lecture hall. I should have known.

I knew all the correct answers. I did my work, I put all my effort into studying for her stupid quiz. And yet, I couldn't answer the questions. Why? They weren't clear. Had they asked a less twisted version of the question, I would've scored. Still, I didn't flare up. Perhaps it was my fault I didn't do well? I asked around; everybody I asked said they weren't sure what the questions were asking for either, because the questions were rather convoluted and twisted.

Still, I diligently took down the model answers, determined to improve, to get it right next time. I asked a few of my closer friends to accompany me to talk to the teacher after the lecture, they agreed.
After the lecture, I went up to the teacher while my friends sat at the seats. I was so sure I could convince her, because she did mention being puzzled at why so many students gave the correct answers for the wrong questions. The questions and answers didn't match, because nobody knew what exactly they were asking for, they just regurgitated, desperate to put something on the blank face of the paper. Some even left them blank. I mentioned all this to her, asking her very nicely, with a smile, if she could make the term-test questions slightly more straightforward. I'm afraid of being faced with the same Quiz 1 situation again, and it shall rain bloody hell if I fail it just because the questions were phrased unclearly. I don't deserve to fail.

Instead of agreeing to consider my request, even to consider it, she defended herself, asking what was so indirect about her questions, what was so confusing. She said that if she gave direct questions in the test, it could be sat by Primary 1 children, and that it's not University standard, blah blah. She simply, in other words, blamed my understanding of the subject and questions.
Bullshit.
I sacrificed so much to study for her damn Quiz. I started studying for her subject on the first day of school, when I got the notes. I sat outside D's church service to mug, I didn't get to watch any DVDs because I told myself that I had to study for her test. I even came to school 2 hours early on the quiz day itself, just so I could do some polishing-up.
I broke down in front of her.

I'm pretty sure she was rather unfeeling towards my crying. She just brushed it off, saying "you just have to work harder for the term test lor". I could barely believe what I was hearing. Not even an effort to reason, to compromise, to encourage. Was this really my lecturer, a qualified teacher? The one who says sarcastically, "I'm not going to waste time going through this. You all so smart right, go and read it yourself" when we have no idea what she's talking about and protest. We go to lecture to have an explanation of things we don't understand, but no, no explanation for people who don't understand, everybody should just fail it and go to hell.

---
On a lighter note, my French listening and writing test went rather well. I know I got one or two questions wrong, but that was it. I'm not willing to look through my French book now, because what's the use of sulking over wrong answers right after a test? It's done.
I wish the world could be filled with people like Madame Phan.

Wednesday, 8th December 2010

French is so beautiful.

I've been breathing and dreaming French over the last few days, especially since my French test is tomorrow. I spent the day speaking French and memorising the numbers and phrases, and listening to French music.

Jerome showed us a song from "Le Roi Soleil" during lecture yesterday, and my God, I fell instantly in love. I listened to it on repeat for hours today.

Anyway, I'm becoming more anxious by the day. Time is running out again, and I'm not willing, not willing at all to let history repeat itself. I had enough bullshit in Sem 1.1, and there's no excuse this time. I'm doing well in my CDSs, but perhaps not as well in my core subjects. I failed my Bmic Quiz 1 by 1 and a half marks. I studied so hard for it.

Just got to try harder.

Saturday, December 4th 2010

"Sometimes I think my head is so large
because it is so full of dreams."

What makes a monster and what makes a man?

Can you imagine the life he must've had?
No, of course not.
None of us can.