Numb Fingers.

Fatigue. FATIGUE.
HBSDUBCJUBkbvkbdfkvuu:UFD:SRibkkls;

Sorry, my fingers snoozed for a moment back there.

I'm IJC's library, and it's bitingly cold in here. Everything looks cold, the computer, the keyboard and the boring new books. It feels the same way too. BRRRRR. I skipped Literature tutorial and came to idle my time away. So far, I had played senseless games, completed sensless games, and realized there's no thrash can in the library. Also, there's a total of 10 paintings hung on the walls of the second storey.

I feel the slightest twinge of regret at my decision of entering a Junior College. Homeworks piled upon assigments. Lectures of subjects I do not have an inkling of an understanding. I find myself more often than not dreaming wistfully about the laid back life of a Polytechnic, and berating myself than I fared well enough in the Prelims to enter a JC for the trial 3 months.. If I have not, I wouldn't be here, slaving myself away, day after torturous day.

I will be working, having money FOR ONCE, or lounging around in cushy chairs, sipping creamy frappachino in Coffebean, with a dear friend, watching the frenzied world rushing by. Smiling lazily, as the working and the studying look pressed and pale, whilst we, the '05 students who survived the GCE O levels enjoy our much deserved hiatus.


SIGHS.


Instead, Im the one looking pressed and pale, rushing along with the frenzied world, glancing eviously over at the relaxed and chilled.

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Shall not write anymore. I need to go soak in cold water and tell myself, JC Good! Have Student Fare for MRT! JC can go U. Can go U, Mummy Daddy Happy! Graduate from U can earn big bucks! Got degree DEGREEEE DEGREEEE! Most Important ! DEGREEEEEE! Can wear funny looking square hat and harry potter gowns for Graduation at U! MummyDaddy Happy!



DEGREEEEEE!

Shot! ( Or rather, tagged. )

Aha! This little chain tag-and-you're-it! seemed to have landed on my lap. Of course, with a little help from a dear fellow blogger. (stage whisper) Rhys! I shall get you for this! *shakes fist*

The rules :
- The tagged victim list 8 different points of thier perfect lover/partner, mentioning the gender of said partner.
-Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on the post letting them know they have been tagged. If tagged before, no need to contribute.

My perfect lover :

1. is not married.

2. makes me and everyone else laugh, but he has a sweet&sensitive side when we're alone.

3. does not drop me like a hot stone the minute i gain 0.000001 pound.

4. do not salivate everytime there is a video game arcade in sight.

5. Ditto point 4 for scantily clad models too.

6. is willing to watch chick flicks with me without complaining that its ruining his macho pride or shields his face with the popcorn bucket when walking into the theatre.

7. does not blush or fidget uncomfortably everytime the word TAMPON/PAD is mentioned.

8. remembers significant dates and not panic at the last possible second, thus buying some pathetic excuse for a gift at the nearby newspaper stand.

9. can control his raging hormones.

10. does not snigger when the word "Geylang" is mentioned.



Tagged:
1. Carolyn ( I imagine this is your forte. )
2. Melissa. ( No you cannot put Maurice for every 8 points. )
3. Qiaozhen
4. Kimberly
5. TiakHui
6. Jiayi ( No you cannot put Allen for evey point too. )
7. Denise
8. You, whoever reading this. [:


That was fun. A moment of glee.
Now back to the real world, where the men cant even fulfill 3 points up there. And if they can, they are probably gay.

Overrated and Overplayed.

Cupid came, shot, and went.

Unfortunately, it left in its wake, exorbitantly priced stalks of withering roses, heavilyperfumed giftshops making a bundle, ferrero roches going out of stock.
Singles never do dare to venture out on Valentine's. A simple stroll might just crush the self-esteem of the weaker. There's have never been a more smug expression on a girl when she saunters down the street with her arm candy, and her confection of crepe paper and fake flowers.

Hoho, I sound cynical, jealous, and sour, you reckon?

I had a fabulous Valentine's, FYI. With single friends. We ate, drank, laughed and were merry. We didnt weep in self pity, nor did we scorn in derisivness. We celebrated Valentine's with gifts, swensens and gossips. I couldnt wished for better. [:

No Im not lying.

A happy belated Valentine's to all blissful couples out there. Stay happy, dont get her pregnant.

And an affectionate hug to all you cynics out there. Reality can wait, go live that dreamy ideal day you always secretly wanted, you can confess your sins later.

And a very much heartfelt happy Valentine's to all my babes. You make me happy. [:


Im sick of Ferrero Roches. Urks.

On Cloud 9.

Praise The Lord.

Somehow, He managed to spin a miracle out of my results. I know it's not as good if you would really want to start comparing. But hell, Im happy with it, and you can kindly shove your comparisons up the place where the sun dont shine. (:

I was so happy, i'm at loss of words to replace "happy".
:DDD

Rainbows are seen, the sparrows are chirpping, the sun is shining and my mom is smiling.

'tis a beautiful day.

If i could do the whole day again, to go through the stomach clenching anxiety, and the frequent nausea, the long, boring talks and the disgusting black spray on my hair, for the reactions I get from my parents and myself,

I would. (:

TGIF? Perhaps not.

I rang in sick today. Wasn't able to get my self to school.
Fatigue overwhelms me. That coupled with a nagging pain that resides in somewhere above my stomach. And the mere thought that today's lessons end at 410.

Blah.

You girls are sweet. (:
Thanks for those lovely messages and yes, I miss you people too!


Idling around at home, I melded with the computer. After the bloghopping and MSN chattings, I went on a whim and reread all my previous posts starting from the very first virgin post I written in Blogger.

Naturally, I flinced in embarassment and winced in shame as I took in my childish writing, petulant manner and petty thoughts. I could almost hear the monitor going tsktsk, but of course, hallucination knows me by name.

However, nostalgia gave my heart a funny tug as I scrolled through hilarious events and angry rantings. Did 4 years really flew by so quickly? Did we really did all those stuff? Did I really type so horribly?
(And the funny thing was, at that point of my life, I was SO DAMN proud of the way I written my posts. I took so much pride in it. After publishing it, I would read it over and over, savouring how nice and "stylo-malo" the entry was written. Now when I look at it, I couldn't read on after the first few lines.)


And tomorrow we shall be getting our results. Both anticipation and dread courses through me. Anticipation because, we all be in the same school again, clad in the same uniform. All together, the old familarity suddenly so awkward yet so sweet. No more newly minted JJs yelling and proclaiming their love for their insituitions, screaming orientation cheers together, words that have no meaning to me, their longing for Unity no longer apparent, their tears during graduation night forgotten. But instead, Unitians once again, reuniting tomorrow, anxious over results.
Dread because this results would serve as a final cut. A final severement to Unity sec. Once the results is in our hands, we no longer belong. The connection snapped. Gradually, we will fade and will be remembered as "graduates of 2005", not as class 45, 46, 47, 48. In our teachers' memories, our faces will eventually mesh together into one big sea of eyes and grins, our quirks and traits forgotten. Only the GPA of the entire class she had taught will remain, vague but existing, in her memory, a proof of her teaching capability.

Our registry ripped, shredded. Photos taken down. Any lingering sign of our presence in the school destroyed for the new Unitians. The classrooms that we dominate, the hallways that we ruled, now no longer ours. The school, now only a name to us ; Alma Mater.


No matter what they try to tell you about the Polys you re going, or the JCs you re heading, it will stilll hurt. To see them wiping clear the evidence you ever existed as a Unitian.

Go ahead, make my day. ( I dare you. )

Notice.
Author not in right frame of mind. Heartbeat is too fast, blood pressure is too high. Anything that is stated here cannot be taken into serious consideration. We apologize for the misunderstanding. Author will be back after she finish taking her Prozac pills and stop swearing at her airconditioner remote control.


I just got off a tiff with my mom.

Guess what was the topic?
OOOH SMART YOU ARE.
The release of the GCE O levels results.
Funny, isnt it.
It isnt even released yet and it had already stirred up a shitstorm in my household.

!@#%$#@!%^&*!(@
(i promised not to be crude and uncouth this 2oo6. )

It started out as a light conversation.
It ended with us hollaring at each other.


STOP THINKING IM GONNA GET INTO A FUCKING JC MOM.
I HAVE NOT GOTTEN THE STINKING PEICE OF PAPER. IT WILL BE GIVEN ON FRIDAY.
FRIDAY IS THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW, FOR YOUR FUCKING INFORMATION.
SO WILL YOU PLEASE GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK ABOUT IT. YOU WILL KNOW TOO SOON.
AND WHO KNOWS? WHEN I CALL YOU ON FRIDAY, SOBBING MY EYES OUT OVER THE TELEPHONE, TELLING YOU I CANT GET INTO A JC CUZ I GOT A FUCKING 30 YOU MIGHT WISH YOU DIDNT WANT TO KNOW SO SOON AFTER ALL.


Screw the resolution.
And screw MOE.

and my air conditioner remote control.