it was great to see you again,

but to hear your voice over the telephone,
to hear you say,

'hello, is this miss tan wenlin?'





kelvin said it made me look like i was damn happy;
i can't deny;

it made my day.

i like the feeling of having paint on my fingers; paint on my toes.

somehow it just makes me feel safe.





it's like the feeling of belonging to someone.
it's warm, a little bit stuffy, but really really safe.

------------------------------------------------------------
looking at how things are, i think i ll be getting this feeling quite often.

it's hard to pretend it doesnt matter cause it does.



and it's a lot worse when more people know about it.
it's all about not wanting to let people know, because the more people know, the more they make noise about it, the more they expect.

and when you don't get it in the end.
it's even more horrible.


what am i even doing?
why am i kidding myself?

i don't think i can do this, not here, not with them.



i really hate it not to be taken seriously.

obsession (countable and uncountable ; plural obsessions)

1. A compulsive or irrational preoccupation.
   
2. An unhealthy fixation.

compulsion (plural: compulsions)

1. An irrational need to perform some action, often despite negative consequence

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there's a certain kind of syndrome called the psychology student sydrome.
psych students have a tendency to think that they are inflicted with the various illnesses that they study about because the symptoms they read about are scarily similar to the kind they exhibit.

i don't think i have it.

i think that most psych students don't really know what these illnesses are about.
it's not about reading about them or knowing strangers who have them. it's about have close friends, family, who are so misfortunate to be inflicted with these illnesses, or worse still, having yourself as a case study because only you will know every aspect of your life, better than anybody else.



never mind that,

things have been moving on slowly in wardrobe and in engineering, and i can't help but feel lethargic despite having had 4-5 hours sleep daily. 2 hrs once a while, yes, but on the whole it's always 4-5. i just cannot understand how people function properly based on 2 hours of sleep a day.

if i sleep two hours and someone wakes me up to do something, i ll either finish my job sloppily, not do the job, or just kill the person who woke me up.



our dear kiwi says she is kind of miffed/scared by the effortless/unconscious way i observe and make predictions about people.

it's random but i realised freud's theories are true.

if we like someone, we tend to tease someone else about liking the person.
if we didn't sleep enough and we still feel like napping but are obliged to wake up, we tend to urge others who slept less than us to go to sleep.

to displace our desires, emotions, wants, needs on others.
can be so powerful.



-----

happybelatedbirthday miao, i regret that im not able to pass you your present personally on your bday, nor spend much time preparing it.

and i am blaming it all and eusoff hall rag.
yes it's all your fault.

--------
things look exciting this coming year, with rambutan, sugar cane, durian, watermelon, starfruit, lemon staying in b4, peach in b3, lychee, orange, tomato, honeydew in b2, cherry and mango in b1.

i told myself that if i didn't get b3 i'd go home and stay. it's like really time to say goodbye. the longest i stay, the more reasons i have not to leave. it's getting harder by the minute.
but then now,

hello strawberry, we're roomies.

apple is starting to think that,
hall ain't as bad as it's all made up to me.
but i'm already leaving, soon.

i


'is rag your first priority? if not, what is stopping you?'

'okay loh, so rag is more important for kendo president right?'

'where does your priority lie?'


...
...
...

i keep telling myself that in less than 4 weeks it will be over and that i can be there for the club when they need me again, because when i look at the atmosphere here in wardrobe and detailing i cannot imagine if i am not here, but my mind keeps telling me,

if only things were that easy,

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemies eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing:
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt, and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once you know there was never, never an honest word
That was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in.
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People could not believe what I'd become
Revolutionaries Wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can not explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world
(Ohhhhh Ohhh Ohhh)

Hear Jerusalem bells are ringings
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can not explain
I know Saint Peter will call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world



--------------------------------------------------------------

Look out

Where it's at
I know karma's coming to pay me back
Im with the sweetest thang thats on the map
I broke her heart in 30 seconds flat
In 30 seconds flat

Now how did i
Just how did I become that kind of guy
To look at girl and lie right in the eye
My momma told me willy that aint right
Boy now that aint right

Im s s s sorry
Im s s s sorry
I didnt mean to break your heart [2]
Im s s s sorry
Im s s s sorry
I didnt mean to break ya
B b b b break it baby
Look baby
Im a heartbreaker [6]
Im a heart
A h h h h im a heart
A h h h im a

Where she go
I got some things I gotta let her know
To fix the love now its impossible
But baby baby if we take it slow
If we take it slow
We can make it work
We just cant throw the love down in the dirt
You probly think that im a f**kin jerk cause the way I let you down it made you hurt

I didnt mean to make you hurt

Im s s s sorry
Im s s s sorry
I didnt mean to break your heart [2]
Im s s s sorry
Im s s s sorry
I didnt mean to break ya
B b b b break it baby
Look baby
Im a heartbreaker [6]
Im a heart
A h h h h im a heart
A h h h ima

Break it down
Lets break it down [roughly 15]

So so so sorry
So so so sorry
A la la la
La la la la
La la la la

Im s s s sorry
Im s s s sorry
I didnt mean to break your heart [2]
Im s s s sorry
Im s s s sorry
I didnt mean to break ya
B b b b break it baby
Look baby
Im a heartbreaker [6]
Im a heart
A h h h h im a heart
A h h h ima


------------------------------------------------------
for the whole of last week i experienced what it was like to be a bespectacled person.

the thing that amazed me the most, however mundane and insignificant it may sound, was that my glasses really fogged up when i got off the air-conditioned bus and i got pretty peeved about it. then the whole humour of the incident came down on me and i started laughing as i took down my spanking new black-rimmed spectacles to wipe clear the lens.

if you know me well, you should know i'm one of those psycho-weird kids who used to sit uber near infront of the teevee and read lying down on the bed with dim light etc because i was adamant about spoiling my eyesight so i could wear funky cool glasses. it was like 9/10 of my classmates wore it and i didn't want to be the 1/10 to stand out.

the day i went out with esther and chanced upon the glasses overdue realisation dawned upon me once again that my face shape is rather unsuitable for any kind of accessory, spectacles definitely included.

thankfully my mother was quite strict about it and her relentless nagging proved to be useful;
out of my family of 5, i'm the only one sans glasses [i guess my father doesn't count; his is old folks specs.]

luckily the black-rimmed ones [which i had become extremely interested in after seeing the miraculous transformation mr m. went through after getting a pair] looked rather comfortable sitting on my nose bridge, and i grew rather fond of them and got them right away without hestitation of any sort. esther says she was surprised.
then again, when am i not surprising?

but, i like it.

the feeling of wear spectacles.
it makes me feel smart.
i like to push the side of the frame with my right hand. nudge it when i'm talking, or when it's sliding off. thankfully im not one of those misfortunate flat-nose-bridged, short-sighted people who suffer miserably under the torment of the constant slipping down of the specs off their nose bridge.


i like it. i feel like when i look through the specs, i feel like i'm protected.
i feel like it's not so bad, that i don't have to be exactly face to face with anyone, or anything for that matter.
not you, not him, not her, not anyone.



and i'm not sure how i look,
because the other raggers kept laughing when they saw me with my glasses,

but who cares,
i like it anyway.