tell me about it

I just bumped into Izz*y of sarongparty*girl fame…again.  She’s here at SAM for our gallery opening; exchanged a few words with her.

First met her at Sexpo last November when I was working there.  I hope she doesn’t think I’m stalking her or something :(

Interestingly enough, she was my arts fac junior in JC and now sort of my junior in NT*U.

Okay that’s it for blogger celebrity watch.

I think men are both awed and turned on by girls who watch and enjoy soccer.  Because I’ve never had so many men (okay, any men, ever) look at me or chat me up as when I went to watch the Liverpool/Everton match at Made In Anfield (official Liverpool bar) last Saturday.  I laughed when Angel whispered, “I’m going to the toilet, wanna bet they’ll come over right after I leave?” and I thought, no way, but geez, once he stepped out the door there was a buffer time of maybe half a minute before two guys came up to talk to me. :/

And I’m already not much to look at.  Can you imagine if I brought Max and Bin to MIA?  There’d be men crawling over and worshipping the two of them!

Gosh, but I love soccer, and I seriously love Liverpool.  Sorry, but rugby just doesn’t cut it for me.  :/ 

I was reading through my old blog posts, and I realized that after bad times are over, we tend to downplay them in our memory – now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? – which is why we stumble into the same mistakes over again; quite simply we have short-term memories when it comes to hurt and pain.� Or maybe it’s just me.

So anyway there I was reading my 2004 blog entries in order to reorganize the imported Blogger posts into Wordpress categories; frankly I was appalled by how many I labelled as ‘Rants’ and ‘Love’ and both in the same category.� I’d forgotten how much pain I went through.� Will I never learn? :/

After that I proceeded through my mobile’s message inbox to ruthlessly root through and delete messages that I had no more use for keeping. I closed my eyes and hardened my heart and deleted about ten off my phone, but to my own disappointment there are still a few I can’t bear to delete just yet; I still find myself scrolling through once in awhile to reread them and quietly crumble inside just a little bit more. There’s nothing like reliving lost happy times to remind yourself how much you hurt.

On to happier things – in a defiant rebellion against my Working Woman Syndrome weight gain, I obeyed my cravings and finished almost half a pack of Ruffles Texas Style BBQ chips.� My absolute favorite chips in the world.

Fruits for lunch to make up for my indulgence :)

This was the first Fiona Apple song I ever fell in love with, 5 years ago, and I rushed out to buy her ‘When The Pawn…’ CD (which cost a bomb from HMV).  I still love it, and now it’s strangely relevant.  Ha.

I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on, or something like that
I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose reality I knew, was a hopeless to be had
But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag

Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
‘Cause I know I’m a mess he don’t wanna clean up
I got to fold ’cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love

And I went crazy again today, looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope
Baby said he couldn’t stay, wouldn’t put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope
I said, ‘Honey, I don’t feel so good, don’t feel justified
Come on put a little love here in my void,’ he said
‘It’s all in your head,’ and I said, ‘So’s everything’
But he didn’t get it – I thought he was a man
But he was just a little boy

Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
‘Cause I know I’m a mess he don’t wanna clean up
I got to fold ’cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love

I’m not afraid of death.

It’s dying that worries me.

L-R: Lish, me, Max, Barbie, Bin, Yiffie and Lonn! Bumped into babeLICIAs on our way to KTV from Ichiban Boshi :P doesn’t she look so super hot!  And Max is the only one who really has to dress up for work, the rest of us are kinda casual :D

These kind of outings are one of the bright spots of internship… :)

Fiona rocks.

You moved like honey in my dream last night
Yeah, some old fires were burning
You came near to me and you endeared to me
But you couldn’t quite discern me

Does that scare you? I’ll let you run away
But your heart will not oblige you
You’ll remember me like a melody
Yeah, I’ll haunt the world inside you

And my big secret – gonna win you over
Slow like honey, heavy with mood

I’ll let you see me, I’ll covet your regard
I’ll invade your demeanor
And you’ll yield to me like a scent in the breeze
And you’ll wonder what it is about me

It’s my big secret – keeping you coming
Slow like honey, heavy with mood

Though dreams can be deceiving
Like faces are to hearts
They serve for sweet relieving
When fantasy and reality lie too far apart

So I stretch myself across, like a bridge
And I pull you to the edge
And stand there waiting
Trying to attain
The end to satisfy the story
Shall I release you?
Must I release you?
As I rise to meet my glory

But my big secret
Gonna hover over your life
Gonna keep you reaching
When I’m gone like yesterday
When I’m high like heaven
When I’m strong like music
’cuz I’m slow like honey, and
Heavy with mood

“You’ll like this pic,” he wrote.

:D

Pumpkins!!

People always think I’m older than I actually am – usually they assume I’m somewhere from 25 to 28 years old, and when they find out I’m only 22 they start with the shocked looks, and the “No!� Really??” and I nod and shrug and smile sheepishly.�

Once,�someone saw me and Joel together and later asked, “So that’s your younger brother?”� Gah!!� He’s three years older than I am!

It’s often people in church who make that mistake but even my colleagues who are supposed to�know I’m only a third-year undergrad keep thinking I’m 25, 26 years old.� Aunty Irene from church had thought I was older than her daughter and expressed her astonishment that I’m a whole two years younger than her – “You’re very mature in the way you dress and the way you act,” she told me.

Okay, I don’t really understand this.� I’m most often in jeans and blouses which is standard casual, right?� And I know I don’t act any more mature than my friends do, so what’s the deal?� I don’t get it.

Because it’s extremely traumatising, especially that one time in church when someone asked me kindly if I was Rev. Poon’s girlfriend/wife, because he’d seen me leaning on Dad’s shoulder during service.

Me: *jaw drop* He’s my FATHER!

I told Mom about it, and after she stopped laughing, she told me to take it in a good light – “It’s good that people think you’re mature, right?” – and I said, I don’t mind looking like I’m 28 when I’m 22, but I just hope that when I’m 35 I’ll still look like I’m 28 :D

I hope :/

Boundaries.

Stop pushing them.