notes from a busy day

• The zoo, while still extremely beautiful, makes my feet hurt.
• Donkeys are adorable.
• As are otters, meerkats, lemurs, and all sorts of other animals.
• I need to buy myself a good cam, so that I can put up pictures the day I take them, or close, instead of procrastinating to the point of saying fuck all and not sharing them at all.
• Critters are NOT, unlike what Mickey will try to tell you, at all affiliated to fritters.
• When I eat a Subway sandwich, I will crave orange soda and a chocolate chip cookie. No matter I just had a giant cookie less than an hour ago, or that I had a whole can of coke. The craving will be there.
  
• I cannot resist the urge to putter around and fix things.
• I simply do not share the love so many women have for shoes.
• Nut and Jeevan are darlings, because they bought me the giantest bag of candy as a belated birthday present.
  
• I got all 3 modules that I bid for, so far. Now I just need to decide between statistics, philo, or film art. On that note, anyone doing CS3215 (Software Engineering Project, 8MCs) drop me a note.
  
• Lauren Graham is gorgeous.
• Lauren Graham kissing Vin Diesel is surprisingly a pleasant thing to see.
• The Pacifier was a dumb movie, but it made me smile.
  

=) And now, to bed!

Banana Bunker

I'm about to head off to the zoo, but Chris linked me this, and I thought I'd share.

I need to get used to waking up early. I'm a complete zombie right now.

Another overdue post

Here's my long overdue post. I have a ton more pictures, but I'm too lazy to upload all of them.

In Bintan, I had a pina colada out of a pineapple. Yumyum!

Bintan Lagoon Resort

The sea sports centre. On our last morning there, we were headed back to the room to clean up before checking out, and the guy offered us a ride on the jetskis. We had to turn him down, which sucks, but there's always next time I suppose.

On our second day there, it got kind of foggy and rainy towards the evening. Didn't stop my sister and Ci from dancing around coconut trees though.

More foggyness
We're retarded, yes we are.

that's what the villas look like. They come with their own bbq pits and swimming pools, and use of a golf buggy cart thing. Porn Wee was most thrilled. I'm smelling something in the planning for her 21st....

speaking of Porn Wee... next time she tells you she has "no pantat" - here's proof otherwise.

Porn Wee enjoying the slide, which according to her is way better than the one at Tioman. I wouldn't know, since I didn't try the one at Tioman, but the slide up there definately was tons of fun.

Us and Melly. No really, the trainer told us that was her name.

Porn Wee as a big macho man.

and to make up for all the embarrassing pictures I put up of her, here's Porn Wee looking oh so pretty in front of the pink christmas tree at Cathay, from when we went to watch Music Inc play their debut performance.

earlier that night, Porn Wee, Swine and I had dinner at Carl's Jr. We got bored and started doodling. I am, apparently, a labia.

My gingerbread man. RIP in my tumtum, you yummyyummy thing you.

Also, Mickey got really drunk at his birthday celebration at St Jame's PowerHouse (it's most exciting the way they herd you in while screaming "GUEST LIST" - if you're on the guest list, that is. Thanks Vishal!) but I believe I'm not allowed to make fun of him, or tell anyone about his embarrassing moments, so all I have for you is a picture of him... Well, I don't really know what he's trying to do there. I was trying to take a picture of Vishal and Shiv doing an irish pub dance, or a picture of them and Shakti (yes, they're cousins named Shiv and Shakti. It cracked me up.) trying to find their car in the Vivo City carpark, but I kept taking my phone out too late. And then I took a picture of Mickey doing.... this. So enjoy.

possibly my first drunken post

This year's Christmas was radically different from last year's. Whereas last year I was avoiding the punch (spiked with beer, oooo, the horror!) this year I was downing multiple glasses of wine - well known among close circles to be the only thing that gets me high, quick. By the way, yes, I'm aware that I type extremely well for someone who's on the verge of passing out.

I spent Christmas Eve at Timbre with a bunch of happy people, doing happy things. Bitching about lousy stuff, confessing a bunch of happy stuff, admitting what a shitty year it's been, and hoping for a good year ahead for all of us. Here's to a gorgeous New Year's. A hopefully pretentious-less, less-drama-filled, just plain happy year ahead. Cheery ho!

Let's see if my drunk ass can't manage some technology fumbling and manage to put up a couple of pictures:

yeah, okay, my drunk ass can't do it. Maybe tomorrow. Pictures of Ben, Kenny, Fiong, PeeWee, Doranne, Rehan and Yun. I didn't manage to snap Wes (hi wes! I was drunk, I know, but I remember saying hi!!!) but yeah. That was the bunch of us. I hope you guys had fun at Thompson!

Wee. Merry Christmas y'all. I just dropped my phone and I have a sneaky suspicion (I spelt that wrong, didn't I?) that my parents don't believe completely my act of sobrierty so I'm just gonna head on off to bed now. Yay me! Yay Christmas! Yay a good year ahead! Yay shopping tomorrow! Yay being broke! Yay yummy yummy booze and buzzing fucking high!!!

Edit: all I can say to that, is: Snort.

Here are the pictures:

Fiona, peewee, and an already extremely drunk me

Ben is almost as smelly as Wes. Boys are stinky. Pee-yew.

Porn Wee pretending to be all demure and sweet. Pfft.

Ben attempting to be a goldfish.

Ben and Kenny. I don't remember taking this picture, but I'm glad I did, cos it's cute.

Doranne and Yun, looking extremely bored.

Yun, Rehan, and Fiona. I'm not sure what's going on there, but then again, I wasn't sure what was going on for most of the night anyway, so hey!

Merry Christmas again, everyone.

2 posts in one day!!!

I know, I know, my reading list is long enough as it is (although I should have removed Thud and Time Traveller's wife by now (the latter is extremely depressing, but oh so pretty) but I'm lazy like that) but I couldn't help getting more today.

First, I was extremely extremely hyper, then I got an amaaaazing massage. The lady even massaged my boobs. I mean, she asked me way before anything happened, and if I'd been quicker to understand her accent I would've said no, but by the time I realised, she'd already started and it seemed kind of rude to interrupt.. I'm sure you all needed that lovely mental image. But really, it was a great massage, mild feelings of being violated aside.

THEN I went to meet Mickey in town because I wanted to use my Kino vouchers, except we were both late and ended up meeting in the train, and then I got hungry, and he watched a baby being changed while trying to ignore my hyper prattle and I ate not-so-good nachos, speaking of which, the ones at Cartel are actually pretty damn good, but I'm still not sure if that might not just be because we were so hungry. Hmm. Run-on sentence. Maybe the hyperness hasn't entirely worn off yet.

Point of my story being, we went to Kino, and I picked out some stuff, but then I saw the queue and decided to come back after Christmas when people aren't so mad. Then we went to the library hoping to find Tintin for meanyhead and Asterix for me, but no such luck. I ended up getting 3 Agatha Christie books that I haven't read yet, which is great, because it's perfect mystery novel weather.

And then we window shopped for hours, and had dinner at Subway and I came home and realised I'd forgotten my keys and almost peed my pants waiting for someone to open the damn door already.

Moral of the story? If you don't understand someone's accent, take your time to respond. It's better to look like a fool, than to feel like a fool. Also, if something in your brain nags at you to check to see if you brought your keys, even if you NEVER forget your keys, CHECK TO SEE IF YOU BROUGHT YOUR DAMN KEYS. Alternatively, make sure you piss before setting off on what you know is going to be a long ass bus ride.

Also also - Mickey, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I'm 2 hours and 10 minutes early, but nanny nanny boo boo, it's your birthday, and I'm gonna make sure you're excited about it.

p.s. The rest of you, we're not dating. So get that idea out of your head.

p.p.s. I met WeeWee and WeiQi but missed out on a *SQUEAL* OMG MUFFIN *HUG**AIRKISS* because he was busy doing... something. Boo. Meet me soon or I'll eat you.

p.p.s.s. I don't know why you women buy clothes from FCUK. The only nice stuff I ever see in there is for men.

heros and eggs

I haven't being doing anything, so there's nothing really to blog about. I sleep, wake up, watch the rain, play xbox, sleep, eat, watch tv... Bliss.

Do related things have a tendency of happening to you all at once? Because they do to me. This time, it's all about heroes. First there was the music: You'll never know that you're my heeeeeeeeee-ro... and that other song where some guy is singing about how he doesn't want to be this girl's hero, because he doesn't want to die.

And then I read an article over at wwtdd (if you hunt enough in the archives, you'll find it, just look under Lindsay Lohen, I'm much too lazy to do it myself and link you guys) about how Lindsay Lohen is a hero, because, here's where you can start taking notes ladies, she lost a bunch of weight so she's now this skinny little thing with badangdangs that she's keen on exposing to the world. ...What? It amused me. Boys who aren't more worried about their appearance than I am, or who aren't pretending to be in touch with their sensitive sides just to hook a girl, or who aren't utter pansies - it's a refreshing change these days. Or maybe I'm just a male chauvinist pig in disguise.

Anyway. Last night my sister attempted to be my hero. I was craving a hard boiled egg at close to 10pm (that's what happens when you watch Jamie Oliver too late at night) but was way too lazy to get around to making one. My sister and I haven't cooked together in ages, so she got all excited about it, so I finally agreed to make the damn egg. Boil water in a kettle, transfer to pot with egg, plop onto stove, wait a couple minutes, peel, tada! Easy, right?

Wrong. You severely underestimate the amount of chaos that goes on in this house. So we've got the first egg on the stove, and my sister asks me, "Are you sure you only want 1 egg? Because if you want two, we're going to have to do this all over again." I figured, what the hell, so I got another egg, handed it to her, and she slid it into the pot. NOT GENTLY ENOUGH because the damn thing cracked. I was all for fishing it out right away, but she figured if it was such a little crack, it would just cook anyway in the boiling water. Right?

Wrong again! First the damn thing started boiling over, because obviously the egg that's only half-full, because most of the white is busy pretending it's a designer candle, cooked faster than the uncracked egg. So I fished the broken egg out, and most of the fleeing white as well, and left the other egg to boil a little while longer. Except that I took too damn long to clean up all that vagrant egg white, so the pot boiled over AGAIN, and this time I didn't manage to turn the flame off quick enough, so I had egg-white infused water all over the stove.

Eventually, I cleaned everything up, and I had a damn good hardboiled egg while watching Room Raiders Opposites Attract, and a not-so-good parboiled egg while watching Room Raiders 3 of a Kind.

And my sister decided she never wants to visit Arizona because the people there are all weird. If my sister calls you weird.... be very afraid.

Time to go book a massage, confirm coffee/movie dates, traipse down to Kinokuniya to use my vouchers (THANKS MUFFIN!), all sorts of happy things going on these hols =)

heros and eggs

I haven't being doing anything, so there's nothing really to blog about. I sleep, wake up, watch the rain, play xbox, sleep, eat, watch tv... Bliss.

Do related things have a tendency of happening to you all at once? Because they do to me. This time, it's all about heroes. First there was the music You'll never know that you're my heeeeeeeeee-ro... and that other song where some guy is singing about how he doesn't want to be this girl's hero, because he doesn't want to die.

And then I read an article over at wwtdd (if you hunt enough in the archives, you'll find it, just look under Lindsay Lohen, I'm much too lazy to do it myself and link you guys) about how Lindsay Lohen is a hero, because here's where you can start taking notes, ladies she lost a bunch of weight so she's now this skinny little thing with badangdangs that she's keen on exposing to the world. What? It amused me. Boys who aren't more worried about their appearance than I am, or who aren't pretending to be in touch with their sensitive sides just to hook a girl, or who aren't utter pansies - it's a refreshing change these days. Or maybe I'm just a male chauvinist pig in disguise.

Anyway. Last night my sister attempted to be my hero. I was craving a hard boiled egg at close to 10pm (that's what happens when you watch Jamie Oliver too late at night) but was way too lazy to get around to making one. My sister and I haven't cooked together in ages, so she got all excited about it, so I finally agreed to make the damn egg. Boil water in a kettle, transfer to pot with egg, plop onto stove, wait a couple minutes, peel, tada! Easy, right?

Wrong. You severely underestimate the amount of chaos that goes on in this house. So we've got the first egg on the stove, and my sister asks me, "Are you sure you only want 1 egg? Because if you want two, we're going to have to do this all over again." After much careful consideration, I figured, what the hell, so I got another egg, handed it to her, and she slid it into the pot. NOT GENTLY ENOUGH because the damn thing cracked. I was all for fishing it out rght away, but she figured if it was such a little crack, it would just cook anyway in the boiling water. Right?

WRONG AGAIN! First the damn thing started boiling over, because obviously the egg that's only half-full because most of the white is busy pretending to be an artistic designer candle cooked faster than the uncracked egg. So I fished the broken egg out, and most of the fleeing white as well, and left the other egg to boil a little while longer. Except that I took too damn long to clean up all that vagrant egg white, so the pot boiled over AGAIN, and this time I didn't manage to turn the flame off quick enough so I had egg-white infused water all over the stove.

Eventually, I cleaned everything up, and I had a damn good hardboiled egg while watching Room Raiders Opposites Attract, and a not-so-good parboiled egg while watching Room Raiders 3 of a Kind.

And my sister decided she never wants to visit Arizona because the people there are all weird. If my sister calls you weird.... be very afraid.

Time to go book a massage, confirm coffee/movie dates, traipse down to Kinokuniya to use my vouchers (THANKS MUFFIN!), all sorts of happy things going on these hols =)

What's Up, Doc?

I went to bed last night this close to giving up on love and joining the not-so-little society of modern day cynics who are all brusque and gruff and tough as nails on the outside and too scared/proud to admit to the pain they feel inside. I've been not completely well for the longest time now. I'm not sick, but I'm definately not healthy, and I fall almost-ill all the damn time. You know, when you've got just a smidgen of a fever all day, and it only flares up at night, so you end up sleeping restlessly and having the most absurd dreams, most of which are just endless looping replays of things that happened to you either that day, or sometime in the past, or in your head when you're worrying about how things are going to work out in regards to something that's stressing you out.. (how's that for a run-on sentence?) I think a lot of the reason why I'm so irritable and upset lately is just plain because of that. Maybe that's why I was so happy when I was in Bintan. The fresh air did me a lot of good, even if I wasn't getting much sleep.

Point being, I spent a long time yesterday arguing with the boy, and I fell asleep in a lousy, lousy mood. But then, I woke up today, and it's gorgeous weather, raining like anything with no sign of letting up, and I watched toons on Boomerang with my dad, had a good lunch, just a nice lazy time. I was flipping channels, and I settled down to watch What's Up, Doc. You know, that movie where Barbara Streisand actually looks kinda cute, and there's all sorts of mayhem, and it's just the absolute perfect thing to watch when you're running a fever and feeling kinda half-absent from the world at large.



Now I feel better. Hopefully I get a chance to explain. Thanks for being so patient, bubba. You're still an inconsiderate jerk, but I adore you anyway.

Wedding Season

I have free entry for two to the opening party of The Clinic tomorrow night, but I probably won't get to go, because at 7, I'm going to be all dressed up in a sari, of all things, for a wedding.

Someone mentioned that December seems to be wedding season, because everyone seems to either be getting married, or preparing for someone's wedding, or attending someone's wedding, or something to that effect. Pretty appropriate then, I suppose, that I found out today that my exboyfriend's getting married.

She's gorgeous, her dress is beautiful, she obviously adores him, they look so sweet together, she was in the Air Force too so she's gonna be able to understand all the pressure he always seems to be under, and his family (amazing people, the lot of them) adore her... I'm really happy for him. I just wish he'd told me. He was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time, and long after it was over he was my best friend. All I have to say is Congratulations, boo. Not that you'll read this. Guess it's time I relinquish that title though.

I'm trying to find a way to say all this without coming across as angry, or sad, or bitter, because I'm honestly none of those things. I have nothing but best wishes for him, and his entire family. They're great people, and they deserve great things to happen to them. It's just a little mind boggling and difficult to digest.

In other news, pictures from my trip will be up when I get around to it. Don't hold your breath though, seeing as how I never did get around to making a lengthy post about my party. Right now, I'm just gonna go to bed and try not to scratch the insect bites that go alllll the way across the left side of my body. I'm not even exaggerating. It's so nasty.

bitchy slut ass cunt face!

Tomorrow I'm going to Bintan (with peewee pie, so you people can stop rolling in those applications, tyvm) (oh and HALLO WES who is apparently blog stalking me too.) and of COURSE, invariably, I woke up this morning sneezing like crazy and my head feeling all blocked in.

It's okay. Lots of sun and sea breeze should do me good. I hope.

Why the title, you wonder? That's what doof called twinky. And twinky's the one who's kept saying that I'm falling sick, since the day of my party. Foul mouthed bugger. Unfortunately he's all cuddly and happy-fying, so I can't even get mad at him really. Boooo.

I'm still happy though. So yay me.

there is a very fine line between insanity and genius

Thanks Sean, for this link, which explains a little about LLI - Low Latency Inhibition. Interesting food for thought. I've always thought the line was very very fine indeed, and this does sort of explain that somehow. Yay!

quickie #2

Just posting to say that I'll be in Bintan from Tuesday till probably Thursday. I actually have a room to myself, and it's already paid for, so if anyone wants to come along, all you'd have to spring for is the ferry ticket, which is about $40. I'm looking forward to lazing around all day for 3 days, without anyone to nag at me (except maybe my sister, but she'll probably be too busy lazing around herself to take much notice) but I'm always up for spending time with friends, so if you're interested, just let me know.

In other news - be prepared to see less of Shirley Shanelle Shandy/Bob in the upcoming months. Not for any particular reason other than peewee pie getting her license *grin* My days as chauffeur are coming to an end. Now I just need to wait till doof gets his own car, and mickey gets his license/bike, and I'll be all set. Not that I'll love Shirley any less though. Congratumalations Priscillia *grin*

Back to lazing around in bed with some discworld for me. Byebye!

quickie #1

Last night was the birthday party. Right now, I'm running on more or less no sleep, and I can still feel the smoke and booze running through my veins. All I really want to do is take a shower and pass out till it's time to go get lots of free coffee from Starbucks, but I figured I'd make a quickie of a post first.

I had the most awesome time. I got to see lots of people I haven't had a chance to hang out with a long while, I was made to feel extremely loved, and I got to make some people very happy too. So thanks to everyone who came down, especially the ones who had work the next day/live at the other end of the island/were worried about feeling awkward because they wouldn't know anyone else there. I really appreciate it, and it's made me extremely happy.

When I get pictures from Mel, Muffin, and anyone else who had a camera, I'll be sure to write more. For now, I'm going to catch up on some much needed sleep.

EDIT: muffin's uploaded the pictures (most of which involve me looking absolutely horrifically drunk/unphotogenic) at his website (link is in the comments). When I get the zip file from him, and the pictures from Mel, I'll try to pick my favourites and put them up. In the mean time, this is a pretty apt representation:

beautiful people, beautiful moon, beautiful night

glam-cam-whore wannabes

we do not discriminate against race, religion, or height.
Okay, actually we do. But we still love you!!!

'tis true, I was waaaay high. So nanny nanny boo boo to you if you weren't there to see me make a complete arse of myself.

Then again, I wasn't the only one who was tipsy...

Hooray for sitting around like hobos in the middle of the night with pink helium birthday balloons and party cups!

And of course, no birthday party is complete without cake! It's the first time I've ever been to a party where the ENTIRE cake got eaten.

I was looking at the pictures with Nut, and we both started gushing about what a great time we had. I just hope everyone else had as much fun as I did. More pictures later =) unless I get lazy. teehee.

One for the Boys

So you've heard of the rabbit, the dolphin, maybe you've seen those diamonte studded platinum/titanium/white gold dildos. You've heard of girls using their cellphone vibrators, and some of us have laughed ourselves silly over this website which actually, I suppose, if you don't have anyone to get any from, could be extremely helpful. But how many of you, have heard of The Tenga? Brings the idea of boys and their toys to a whole new level now, doesn't it?

ByeBye Chatterbox...

...Hello comments.

half past one, and I'm already making major headway in getting through my to-do list. Go me!

And check it out, Fiona's been updating. When she's supposed to be studying, of course. Tsk. Bad fifi, BAD!

I am a happy bunny =)

And another one bites the dust..

Another semester, that is. My exams ended this morning, and I celebrated by buying myself pretty pretty beautiful things, having a lot of coffee and bitching and giggling with my sister, and cleaning out/rearranging my room. I'm finally taking a break from organising my closet, only because my back is killing me, and I realised I may have been slightly over-ambitious in tackling it all tonight. If only I could figure out where to keep my shoes...

Another to-do list!

- nail the backing back onto my bookshelf
- fix my broken picture frame
- hang said fixed frame back up on the wall
- get a longer cord from daddy so I can plug in my stereo
- make the boy's present pretty
- finalise my guest list for the party, and hopefully get RSVPS
- make a shopping list for the party
- shop for the party
- get my eyes checked
- order new contact lenses
- sort out my bookshelf
- get a pedicure
- claim my massage
- return Varun his textbooks (thank you again!)
- spend lots and lots of money on myselfthen again, this is quite the ongoing process...
- revamp my blog
- take all my old magazines/notes/etc down to the nearest recycling bin.. on that note:
- find out where the nearest recycling bin is
- take a trip to IKEA and get a new frame, because mine's apparently unfixable
- take the bags downstairs, and hope they notice the bright green post it saying "RECYCLE" on it.

phew. And that's not even half-way complete. I'll probably be able to knock off half of it tomorrow though, so yay me!

For now, it's back to sorting through lots of clothes, and then a long long long well deserved hot shower.

Holidays, here I come!

Soft!

On a similar note, I recently read this:


And in it, one of the main characters, Glade, has a boyfriend named Tom who a) Never writes notes, because people who commit suicide, leave notes, and he's not about to kill himself, and b) lives in America (Glade is English) and spends all the time that he's apart from her, thinking about her, or his image of her. He builds her up to be someone completely different, and everytime they meet, she seems to have let him down in some way, because she's not the same as he'd envisioned her.

There's also a man in it named Lambert, which made me laugh because that's what I call Ashley and no one else seems to remember the movie except maybe my sister, and another man named Barker, who's the kind of character I always love in a book. The dark man, with a dark past, but really he's kind of soft inside.

Also, Glade's father has a heart attack while dancing the Flamenco, because he heard from his wife (Glade's mother, who left him and ran away with a younger man) and she's in Spain. He doesn't die, in case you're wondering, but he reminded me of my Gramps, but a little more outgoing in his eccentricity.

Also also, Minimal cover functional dependencies make my head hurt. If you ever take CS2102/S, do yourself a favour, and don't leave that chapter till the night before your paper.

divergent souls

As usual, in an attempt to procrastinate studying, I started blog hopping. First, a digression - why is it that even with only 17 pages left to read, I still can't buckle down? It's my last stretch of studying for the next six or seven weeks at least, and it's not even like they're 17 long, 14 sized pages of teeny tiny font. If I showed them to you, you'd probably mock me. Hell, I'm mocking myself. When I finally do get around to reading, I'll probably be done in half an hour, max. But nooo. Even though I really want to go to bed, instead of just getting it over and done with, I'm procrastinating. It's like the postcard my sister bought: Always put off till tomorrow what you could have done yesterday.

Anyway. As I was saying. I was blog hopping, and it got me thinking about how most of these people, are people I actually know, however superficially it may be, in real life. And how they must have no idea whatsoever that I'm reading about their lives. And that, got me thinking about what would happen if they read my blog. And that got me thinking about the people who I know for a fact do read my blog *cough* peeweewhostalkspeoplebutdoesn'thaveablogofherown *cough* sameformelandfarah *cough* andFionaandJeremywhodon'tupdate *cough* wow, really bad throat. Oh well. Guess I'll just have to drink more alcohol on Wednesday to kill the germs. The sacrifices I make. Sigh.

I'm really good at digressions, have you noticed? Anyhow. It's kind of odd, don't you think, how people can now know about your life before you get a chance to tell them, because they read it on your blog? Like how just yesterday, I was showing Nut pictures on my phone while waiting for dinner to be served (divine Rum&Raisin truffles at Coffee Club, by the way) and when I turned to show them to peewee, she responded with "I already saw it on your blog". (See what I mean? She's a stalker. Bloggers, beware this one.)

My point being - what if your blog is an escape for your inner split personality self? I know at least some of you must know what I'm talking about here. I thought I was the only one, till I started reading books beyond Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys (speaking of which, don't you think the entire Hardy Boys Case Files would be a WICKED present?) and Archies and.. you know, I never really got into Sweet Valley. Reading a lot, and being addicted to the Internet at a much too young age were probably the two best things I could have done for myself.

On one hand, I can probably put all my idiosyncrasies down to the addictions, but on the other hand, they were my only escapes, and they've showed me how to cope, and get through them. Could addiction be both the cause and the effect? Something else to ponder over, I suppose. I know that without them, I probably wouldn't have realised yet that it's not as uncommon as you'd think, to feel like two or more completely different people reside within yourself.

I read a blog on Friendster the other day (while procrastinating, of course) and broken English and lapses into Bahasa Indonesia aside, it was a wonderful read. He spoke of how he was two people, as far as he could remember he'd always been two people. When you're a child, you hold conversations with yourself, especially if you spent a lot of time growing up alone, and as life passes on, you gradually split away from yourself, till there's almost two distinct personalities. I can talk to myself all the time, I make for the best conversations I've ever had. Sometimes I interpolate others into myself, I've spent a lot of time this past week, for instance, talking to the boy in my head. It's not just saying things to him though, he responds, and we talk.

And that's just what this whole forking twining road of a rant was about. What if, your blog is a way of writing out your conversations to your other self, a record of the passing comments, just a random pick of the fleeting words that carry on day in and day out, even while you're asleep. What if, that's what your blog is, and people who know you, who love you in real life, who you may love back more dearly than the world itself - what if they don't understand that catharsis, have never seen more than just a glimpse of the rift(s) in your soul - what if they read this, how will they respond?

I suppose at the end of the day, it all just boils down to how they want to perceive you. God knows my perception of a blogger greatly depends on my frame of mind at that particular moment in time. If, like now, I'm floaty and tired and mentally-and-emotionally-purging, I find things beautiful, I see art in the ordinary. And if I'm feeling like a complete and utter cynical bitch, then I do what many people do. I say things like "what a fake, pseudo-intellectual strumpet!" (thanks for bringing that word to the forefront of my vocabulary, Mel) and I write the writer off as a wannabe, a tryhard, a should-die-hard.

I think this is all coming to me because I remember the day I was in school, studying with Doranne, Fiona and Alvin, and Fiona commented on how the way someone wrote in his blog was extremely different from the way he spoke in person. So thanks Fi, for the inspiration (you're my muse for the moment, speaking of which, have fun watching them in Jan!) and helping a poor helpless procrastinating undergrad get through the night before her final final. Tomorrow, the last paper, then shopping and pedicures and parties and good times await =)