I could… but… how can?! 夜盲症 我很喜欢听着蔡键雅的歌睡觉。 我也喜欢听陈奕讯的歌睡觉。 因为着两个创作家明白，爱不是说“我爱你”就够了。爱也不是你爱我就会有结果。 听着他们的创作，我完全能体会到每一句词的意义。好久没爱上一个能让我停止呼吸的人了。似乎望了爱的感觉。 听了他们歌曲的词，我可以记起爱的感觉。。。 爱一个人真他妈的麻烦。 Whining ahead! turn back turn back. Let me put it to you this way. If the possession in question today had been of greater material value, would you empathise better with my outburst? Imagine I scrimp and save monthly, and eventually bought a cute and humble Japanese car. Nothing fantastic, just a car in my favourite colour. I don’t drive it to work everyday cause I don’t need to. No worries about parking since I already have one (or a few, depending how you look at it) lot at my place. I’m very much contented to just take it out for a spin during the weekend. Out of necessity (or a whim), my family asked for my keys to drive my baby out. Without a second thought, I handed over my keys and said, “ok lorh, take care of it ah”. Then it becomes more and more often. Once I had to drive to where they were and hand over my car cos they needed it, then I took a bus home myself. Once in a while, I drive around you folks and I hear complains that the car is small, not spacious, “cannot put the things we bought from IKEA”. Oh really, I would love to drop you at the next bus stop so you can take a big and spacious, slow and steady Mercedes/Volvo home. A day becomes a night. A night becomes 3 days to and fro KL trip. My car came back dusty; Tires worn; Tank used up, empty. Not filled. There goes my mileage. Not even a word of thanks, or a box of donuts to show some kind of appreciation. Worst, I can’t fucking find my keys when I need them the most. And then one day while washing my car, I spot a heartsickening dent. Not big, but it’s there. Who the fuck wouldn’t be pissed? I felt like a caricature from a familiar movie scene. I’m the Classic Pushover who had been taken for a joyride again and again - Pun utterly not intended. p/s: Comment disabled because angry monster is rearing. Something for everyone. “Sometimes you have to just walk away. We all hate to fail, hate to give up, hate to give in. We love the challenge of life and want to keep on until whatever we are trying to ‘win’ has been overcome, vanquished, beaten, won. But sometimes it just ain’t going to happen and we need to learn to recognise those moments, learn how to philosphically shrug and walk away with our pride intact and our dignity high. … … If a relationship is coming to its end, instead of playing out long and complicated - and potentially hurtful - end games, learn the art of walking away. It’s dead, leave it. This isn’t a Rule that should be in the relationship section - it’s here because it is for you, to protect you, to nurture you. This is nothing to do with ‘them’ but all to do with you. If it’s dead, don’t go digging it up every five minutes to check if there’s a pulse. It’s dead, walk away.” As quote from The Rules of Life by Richard Templar Stinking, grubby paws. What did I sms you? I said No, not going to lend again. Seriously, what do I gain out of lending you? Not even a word of thanks, or show of appreciation. You take it as thought it’s natural; as thought I ought to offer my stuff to your pedestal. You peeled off my screen protector and now my baby’s scratched on the LCD and also beside the shutter click. Repair? You didn’t even say a thank, what makes me think you will say a sorry? Buy me a new one? HAH, please don’t make me spurt out the coffee. I can hardly believe you two uses my camera more than I get to. Months after months. I can proudly say that I have never, never asked to loan any of your electronics because I am sure you wouldn’t allow me to.  In fact yes, I’m too haolian to ask for it. What even more infuriating is, someone can proclaim it’s heavy blah blah, “maybe we should invest in a DSLR”. Oh really? Then please take your grubby paws off my unworthy thing and cough up your own. So many times I wanted to capture something, but my baby is not there. Looking at the scratches, I don’t know if I feel anger or sadness. I don’t even wanna take it out for fear that I might hurl the damn thing to the walls. I think I’ve been too nice and accommodating. So yes, this is the last fuck you and fuck off. 烂 我觉得，有些人真的是超级的XX。他们说的每一句话都带着一点点骄傲的讽刺。不知道他们是故意的，还是刻意的。我不记得我有几时做了对不起他的事，引导了他的不满。当我不开心时， 他刻意的说了一些没经过大脑的讽刺话。 是，我是去了interview, 着代表我赢取了那分工作吗？你觉的你说了一些自以为小聪明的话，你根本没想到我当时的感触是如何。我当时向你发脾气，是你惹出的祸。If it had been another person, he would’ve asked how she was, but if me - NADA. No way. 我觉得，他对某些人有不同的作风。例如对我，他不会维护我。如果我闹出事， 他不会站出来为我说话。着一切我都太明白了。我知道，我没比其他的妹妹一样年轻和漂亮。 我不会装可爱，我也不会认同他每个想法因为我有自己的想法。他这样对待我，是不是在说，我在他的目光里，不如其他人？我的意见只能得到他讽刺的回应，他对我的态度只能把我当成傻瓜？ 如果是这样的朋友，我一点都不希罕。 I don’t need people to brown nose me to boost my ego, I just need people to treat me with basic respect/honesty. Perhaps you need to do a reality check on how you treat some people.  No, my life does not revolves around you, but I do have a right to air my disdain once and for all. testing testing wandootwee 我可以写中文吗？ Edit: 特别感谢Mandrake的帮忙！ Fleet I have a neighbour. He moved in about 4 years back into the newer rows of terrace houses. I’m pretty sure this particular neighbour owns a particular interior design firm located along TPY, a 10mins walk from my office. I’ve seen his two maids working around the house, washing the cars, hanging the laundries, tending to his 2 young kids. Other than his young family of 4, his parents lives together with him. Eight people under one roof. He must have a pretty impressive investment portfolio. What’s even more fascinating is, he can afford to owns 6 bloody vehicles. A Merc, a Beemer, a Honda Fit (latest addition to the fleet!), a Toyota Lite Ace, a Toyota Prado and a white mini bus his father seems to adore. I’m quite sure there is one more, but I just can’t seems to recall what right now. His vehicles are all parked along the little lane outside his house. How do I know he owns these cars? 4 outta 6 has the same digits for their license plates - either AACC or CCAA. *use your brain* And I’ve seen the maid washing the other cars in the morning. And mind you, unlike some who buys a Mitsubitshi Colt Plus and park it 13 out of 14 days at home, I had noticed the cars are all driven out every day, with the Beemer and Merc on heavy on rotation. If I haven’t noticed the little plate beside the vans, I would have thought that he deal with cars/car rental. Alright, there is pretty much no point to this post - I just wanna wonder aloud, “TMD, why some people can own 6 bloody cars in times like these?!” Kopi-o gao, tabao! In a desperate bid to stay awake this morning, I had an extra special cuppa 3-in-1 Nescafe, complete with one additional teaspoon of Nescafe Gold Blend kopi hun. Usually if I’m early, I’ll trek over to the canteen and order my usual Kopi-O Gao. However I’ve been consistantly late since last Monday and I haven’t had my fix in ages… and I’m kinda freaking out, disoriented and my thoughts are unorganized… and I digress a lot. A lot.   I’m a huge coffee addict, but I’m not a particularly discerning drinker. I don’t know what’s the glory of Blue Mountain coffee beans as compared to Kopi Luwak. White coffee isn’t exactly white; I tried instant Vietnamese Coffee and I didn’t think it was any special. Affogato? Didn’t know what was that until I met Cakie. I only know, kopi, either has taste and no taste. Whether kopi is fresh or it has soured. My current company finally has a respectable fancy coffee machine that grinds up the Starbucks coffee bean and steams up the milk.� Most of the time I give it a miss in the morning; I don’t want to press the wrong button and have it end up like Mr. Miyagi’s Krap, I mean.. Krup. But of course, since I know nuts about Kopi (doubt any self-respecting Coffee Connoisseur would refer to Coffee as Kopi), this blog entry is not supposed to be about kopi but how I endured an acid indigestion through yesterday, cos my cuppa coffee was too strong for my stomach to bear. Felt like I had a ping pong ball stucked at the base of my lungs. Yeap. That’s about it. Coursing through my veins. Two somewhat phallic looking sculptures displayed prominently at the Changi T3. They just looks so much like penis veins. *cover eyes* Ciggs are easy to buy; Diff to smoke. I just suddenly feel like taking a break from all these. 1) The showy-ness of relationships and friendships are not for me. I wanna know people for who they are and not whether they are worthy of a parade with me. 2) I’ve come to realised no matter how nice you or I try to be, we can’t make everyone like us. The anal retentive few will take any opportunity to nit pick every little details; you’ll feel like you’re living your life according to their rules, instead of your own. If so, why not just pass me a roll of yellow masking tape, and I’ll tape up the small little space I’m supposed to stay in? 3) Would you gimme some time to let me talk,and finish my sentence? I’m tired. Let me get it out. 4) Sometimes I wish real life is as easy as “Friend” and “Un-friend”ing someone. You can “Fan” me, but I am not obliged to “Fan” back. Sheesh, what the hell am I talking about? I just need some times to clear my personal perspective and figure out who are the people who are worthy of my time and concern. I ought to just stop giving a fuck. Protected: Non-invasive. This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below: Password: Let my action speaks for myself. It’s almost here, almost here! I can smell the weekend! I survived my first week of work in my new co without any major hiccup or boo boo. Throughoutly enjoying my work here so far and I put what little I know of my merchandising knowledge to good use. I can’t help but compare how different I felt then and now. Back then, I felt like I didn’t gel with my former colleagues. Old birds and sample room staffs gave me no respects nor attention. Often, my samplings were ignore till the last minute and they made utterly no apologies in missing my requested deadlines. And being at the bottom of the food chain, I felt like I have no voice - I was often told I was not allowed to ‘chase’ anyone for my due work unless given the permission. All this made me feel like a redundancy in the company - very much like an extended internship program. Over here, I am forced to learn and pick up as fast as possible. While my partner is very understanding and patient in guiding me, I also have to take care not to annoy her with any stupid questions. Paper works does not frazzle me; however the communication with buyers and the factory staff does. I’m not a particularly detail-oriented person; I don’t have a knack for retaining written verbal much information and I am not good with regurgitating words from other people. A lot of times I forget that I have to stand up for myself and cover my ass in everything that I do, lest I get shot down for not doing my job properly. I don’t even know how to negotiate persuasively with the factories in order to get my stuff through. A lot of time I forget the tone of my emails, and my partner have to remind and correct me. I so bloody have to work on my ????. I’ve been pondering. Should I keep my private life outta my work, or should I open up? At the moment, I can’t help but feel abit of an outcast - I don’t know who they are talking about, who are their boyfriends (not like I want to know but its one of their usual discussion topics). They are way past the small talk stage, so how can I begin to mix in, without divulge my private details to them? In a work environment where pays and ranks makes the ladder, how do I maintain a level of sensitivity and professionalism? Most of them are younger than me, so maybe they are less aware of office politics and backstabbing. And I realized, offering sweets as a conversation starter only works to a certain extent. Protected: All sparks will burn out. This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below: Password: Protected: Details vs Big Picture. This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below: Password: Don’t Complain; Stop Whining This is something I do not fathom - Why do some Singaporeans who has the opportunity to go overseas choose complain about every insignificant details - like how “old and smelly the carpet at Heathrow Airport are” - and compare how different and/or better life is at Singapore. If I ever get a chance to travel my dream destination like YooKay, HongKong or Bali; Carpets are not the thing I would be noticing. I’d much rather absorb in the culture and lifestyle of the host country than to sweat over such little things. I’ve come across some blogs where SG exchange students complain how “difficult” life is at V@#$*, how “difficult” the people are in L$#*&. They complaint about the prices of food, transportation fare, nitpick over callcard fees, and even complain about their own fellow Singaporeans. They whined that their clothes never dry in Winter, that they are eating the same thing everyday and how hard it is to mix with the other folks. Not to be nasty or what, but it kinda makes sense why their lives are so “difficult” overseas. Who the hell will hang out with them if they can be so anal and calculative over every single thing; and all that comes out of their mouth are incessant whining? These people do not strike me as an easygoing and fun loving person. Not that I am being unsympathetic and apathetic over their situations; afterall, they are fresh new aliens in a totally different environment. I once had been utterly culture shocked by how drastically different things goes in China; Like those exchange students, I complaint and compared everything to my guide. By my third day, I learnt to appreciate and understand how things work over there. Instead of making excuses for my poor command of proper mandarin, I listened and learn their social terms. Rather than fret awkwardly over the safety of my personal belongings, I carried my bags ‘their way’ and behave the way they do. Sometimes, I really do enjoy talking to expats (coughpinoycough) in Singapore. They always strike me as extremely hardy and adaptable folks. Anything goes for them. Rather than groaning, why not learn to adapt? Better late than never. I really should brog (Ok fine, I can’t sleep right now) the fragmented memories of my 22nd b’day at Wala, lest I forget how ‘wonderful’ it was. 1. DPL ordered more than 8 different types of drinks, commanding that I ‘tah’. 2. I downed 3; spilled the whisky. 3. Then I fell asleep on the table. 4. In between comatose, I woke up and danced a little bit to rock musik. The table progressively grew taller and I fell underneath it. 5. Then came the Birthday cake. It was lit. So shiny. I picked it up and danced a little. Shirlyn was very amused. 6. I was groped. By males and females alike. 7. I puked. In the washroom. Yes, it was me. I smelt pepperoni. 8. I puked again. In the washroom. Yes it was me again. I smelt chicken wings. 9. I saw a blueblack on my palm the next day, and THEN I remembered Shirlyn passed me the tambourine. 10. I hugged various friends, and Brandon. Did I hug Simon? 11. I was dragged across the street by DPL again. Don’t remember what he want. 12. I went home with my old friend. 13. Got home. Mum wished me Happy birthday. Puked in room again. To be honest, that’s all I remember. Please feel free to contribute any embarrassing antics. Seriously, celebrate your birthdays with the Barflies at your own risk. I’m so glad there wasn’t any incriminating pictures, you know.. for proofing? I has got frowerrrrrrrr! I has got frower from Jaywalk! If you are wondering why I got a Golden Dowagr, it actually came abt after we talked abt the Golden Shower (please go wiki it). Tsk tsk, such dirty mind, hor? Once again, thank you Jaywalk Korrrrrrrrrrrrrr for the frower! I has got Incase!   Woohoo I received this beauty of a hardshell case all the way from US and Eyelovit! (more…) Beautiful Mind I think the older I gets, the more I seek the company of someone who I can truly click with, rather than just a handsome/pretty face. It’s truly not easy to find someone who can be open-minded and non-judgmental. Someone whom I can discuss anything under the sun with; a person who is willing to teach and enlighten me about things I’ve yet been able to comprehend; not a doormat who agrees to all my opinions, but also not a person who is bent on making me accept his/her thinking. How many times have I caught myself censoring my thoughts and opinion to flowerpod-ish girl friends? I ends up sitting with them, quietly smiling and nodding in acknowledgment. I wonder do they noticed my silent suffocation? Or are they coping better than me? Once you seen a person through and though, there is really nothing more attractive and inviting than someone with an ever inquisitive mind. I would love to discover your beautiful mind. Stephy. Have you ever missed a friend but you just don’t know how to catch up with her? You know she is really just a phonecall away, but you hesitate to ring her up; Afraid that you might be bothering her, holding up her time. The last time I saw her was on my birthday night at Wala (which I choose not to blog about; too many fragmented memories, do not compute). Despite being all pissed drunk, I was genuinely touched that she offered to send me home, and that 20mins in the cab was definitely not enough for us to catch up. You know I missed you, right? Sorry for not messaging you on your birthday. I didn’t forget it was the 17th, I just don’t know how to show it sometimes. This is just a Post Filler. TehSi says I hardly brog. Which is true. I feel a little *shy* lately as I have no idea who is reading my little space on the intarweb. The thought of having people misinterpreting my words worries me. Besides, I find it a lot easier to twitter than to construct a blog entry. Ok enough of rambling. I stole this meme from Cakie. 7 RANDOM FACTS ABOUT ME 1. I’m a left hander. 2. And I find it difficult to differentiate Left from Right spontaneously. 3. I’m not exactly sex-crazed person. The bendy thing is just part of my online persona. I swear! 4. Same for the tit squeezing. What’s wrong with embracing my boobs?! 5. I shaved my head before. 6. I cannot stand dust and dirts but I’m good at ignoring them. 7. Selectively Anal. 7 THINGS THAT SCARE ME: 1. Cockroaches and beetles. 2. Smarty pants and their fragile egos. 3. No chance for spontaneity. 4. Illiteracy. 5. Being broke monetarily and in spirits. 6. Being gravely sick. 7. Being near dead bodies. 7 RANDOM MUSIC AT THE MOMENT: 1. Madonna - 4 Minutes (Tracy Young House Mix Edit) 2. Musical Youth - Pass The Dutchie 3. Feist - Gatekeeper (One Room One Hour Mix) 4. Stealer Wheelers - Stuck in the middle with you 5. Cary Brothers - Blue Eyes 6. Alicia Keys - Like You’ll Never See Me Again 7. 311 - Love Song 7 THINGS I SAY THE MOST: 1. Lol 2. Mm yea 3. Mm hm 4. Uh huh 5. really? 6. *raaaaaaah* 7. sheesh, do you really need to know this? 7 THINGS I TREASURE THE MOST(in no ranking order): 1. Selective friends. And Family. 2. Youth. 3. Humility. 4. Yea call me a shallow biatch, I do treasure the things I have. 5. My cynicism and my lack of niceties vocabulary. 6. My future cat. 7. $$$ 7 “FIRST TIME” THINGS I EVER DID: 1. 1st rode on the back of one of those huge lorry with Shelly last week! 2. 1st oversea work-related trip to HK and GZ at 20. 3. 1st ate sashimi 1 month ago. 4. 1st pursue something purely for passion at 18. 5. 1st runway show at 20. 6. 1st clubbing at zouk, 19. 7. 1st shaved my head bald at 18 7 PEOPLE TO DO THIS: 1-7) Anyone. Go away. Yes yes, I left the job on the second day. So shoot me? My last job totally killed my passion for designing. Being surrounded by children wear at Raffles City on Tueday night, filled me with a sense of dread and hopelessness. I don’t feel pride in what I did nor do I wanna continue what I was doing before. I just need some times. I has got bendy! I got my much much anticipated birthday pressie from Shelly! (Slightly NSFW) (more…) A change would do me good. Sometimes, quitting a job is like ending a relationship. I tendered my resignation last week, and I haven’t stopped feeling like the traitor. A thin air of guilt and paranoia hangs over me - have I not put in enough effort? Have I wasted time for the past half a year? Despite my tardiness, was The Boss pleased with my performance? I planned to do many things during my short little break of unemployment. Maybe I’ll register for driving license, but that will need some money.  Maybe I’ll read through that stash of books I bought months earlier. Go hang out with Shell and do some much needed shopping and wardrobe revamp. Shit, this needs money too. I need to pick up where I left off with my sewing and photography hobby. I badly need to refresh my point of view. Find back my style, what I wanna do for my career. So many things on my mind, but something is holding me back. Sometimes I’m envious of people who wakes up in the morning with a clear idea of what on their agenda. They are fully engaged with their passion, devoting hours per day doing what they love best. Living, breathing and dreaming of what they love doing. How do they even keep up? I am whiney hear me roar. The Mum is sibei Auto-roaming can. She tells me not to lend my camera, ’cause she know how anal I am with my stuff. She’s pretty darn right. I’m usually easy going with things like food and money, but if you messes with my toy, please be prepared to dig your own grave - I’ll be the one kicking you in. So imagine my annoyance when I saw dust particle on the lens, various new scratch MARKS on the case/sensor. Hello? I’m planning to sell this baby if one day either of us gets into shite. How to sell when there is so many scratch and bumps on the baby?! No madam, keeping it on my shelf does not warrant an open invitation. She thinks I’m the one snooping about in her room when she’s not in, but for god’s sake, I can jolly well afford my own make up and beauty products. How many time have I seen my things being moved about? Creams getting thinner? Eyelash curler dirtied? Bills flipped through? If she ain’t being discreet about her new little habit, I might as well prepare a stack of Do-Not-Touch post it. Pardon if I do sound like a whiny bitch. I AM whining.  And to put an end my new unappealing whiny side, I resolved to never lend my camera. No, this is not a family camera. Roar. Invasion of privacy. You know what is a woman’s instinct? A woman’s instinct knows when a friend is lying to her; her boyfriend is cheating on her; and her mother is snooping around in her room. YES, fucking snooping around in MY room. So yea, The Mum must be pretty taken aback to find my various trinkets of hedonism - hidden in the crevice of my storage boxes, shoe box and cupboard. Condoms, sex toys, ciggs, lingeries. You name it, she saw it. And you wonder aloud, why I am not talking to her. Love Cures. Love has been a hairraising experience for Hayley Burton - in the nicest possible way.The pretty 20-year-old student had been TOTALLY BALD for seven years before meeting and falling in love with boyfriend Don Timson. But now her locks are growing back despite her extreme form of hair-loss disease alopecia. [via Baldingblog.com] [Full text] [in Hayley’s word] This is so incredibly Aww-some. Before anyone condemn it as a hoolaabaaloo, I have to say I’ve experienced the same spurt of hair growth not long ago, courtesy of Pinoy’s affection. However when things ended, my new hair just die/break off. Or, it might just be the multivits. Zock on! favoritism Recently I encountered a blantant case of favoritism which kinda threw me off track for a bit. When my ex-boss called me earlier in the evening, asking for my help again, it reminded me of the relations between my Ex-boss and Pricky. (more…)