It's time I said something, right?

So I didn't get into med. Like I wasn't already 80% expecting that. Disastrous interview and all what.

Not that I'm devastated. I mean, sure, disappointment. But mostly, a blankness. Now what? You know? I have to get more drive and ambition. Babbling I am.

Anyway, so I'm waiting for the MOE results (and even bout that, I'm unsure) and got NUS science, which I dont mind. One or the other.

Maybe I haven't found anything that I want badly enough. This is bad. I cannot let my life be a plateau! Cannot!

Okay, away from all this: having my last week at school. Just bought a whole lot of chocolate to give to the kids. Bought New World - starring Colin Farrell and Christian Bale in a Pocahontas story - at White Sands today. That mall is boring. No wonder Tampines is like a war zone on weekends. Century Square and Tampines Mall have everything Singaporeans need to have fun, so that's where they flock. Well, unless you want alcohol. X3 this weekend! And watched Da Vinci already. Liked the explanation of The Last Supper and the chalice-thingy in the Louvre. Nice visual aids that the book couldn't offer.

Bought Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. I like the way he writes; he's funny, and likes to exaggerate or use analogies to get his point across. I think I think the way he does. Here's the first quote (a very long one) that I like, and it was in the introduction, so be forewarned about future quotes.

Consider the fact that for 3.8 billion years, a period of time older than Earth's mountains and rivers and oceans, every one of your forebears on both sides has been attractive enough to find a mate, healthy enough to reproduce, and sufficiently blessed by fate and circumstances to live long enough to do so. Not one of your pertinent ancestors was squashed, devoured, drowned, starved, stuck fast, untimely wounded or otherwise deflected from its life quest of delivering a tiny charge of genetic material to the right partner at the right moment to perpetuate the only possible sequence of hereditary combinations that could result - eventually, astoundingly, and all too briefly - in you.

That's something to remember when you think you're supremely unlucky.

Got lost in Simei today. Yes, Simei. One of the smallest housing areas on this island. Yes, with blur me, such things can happen. Because today was the much-looked-forward-to Roswell day with Jean, I took a taxi to her house. Apparently, Jalan Angin Laut is a huge place. The taxi went in a roundabout way and delivered me to the doorstep of 18 Jalan Angin Laut. But when I got off and stared at the house - my mind went blank. I did not remember it at all. It was not Jean's house, I knew it. And so I called her. And apparently, 18 Seabreeze Walk isn't the same as 18 Jln Angin Laut. -_________- That's a direct translation from Malay to English, okay. How was I to know? So walked and walked with directions over the phone to get to Jean's house. It was hilarious, really.

We ordered pizza and ate in front of the tv. Watched four episodes, with Jean complaining that the romance has been pushed into the background. She also keeps asking about what's going to happen and I give her exasperated you-seriously-want-me-to-tell-you? looks. And when the scene where Jason Behr takes his shirt off and shows off his extremely sculpted bod, Jean started to question me non-stop about which guy had 6 packs and which didn't. Oh God, Jean just cracks me up. It goes more or less something like this...

Jean: What about Michael? Does Michael have 6 packs?
Me (regretfully): No, he doesn't. But he's still cute lah.
Jean: When, when? When did you get to see? This season?
Me: Yes, this season.
Jean: You didn't see like any outline of the 6 packs?
Me: What! No. What outline!

~ Pause as we continue watching a little bit of the show again. Michael comes on screen. He falls on the floor due to alien weapon and we can see bit of his midriff. ~

Jean: Yeah, you can see he's quite fat under his shirt.
Me: What! What! He is not fat!
Jean: But he doesn't have 6 packs. Not a little bit eh. That's quite bad. Are you sure you didn't see any outline?
Me: What. Tsk. What. Just because someone doesn't have a 6 pack doesn't mean he's fat! I don't think my brother has a 6 pack but I think he's fit. He plays hockey. Does your brother have a 6 pack?
Jean: YES. A little bit at least.
Me: Well... But Michael is still okay. You don't have to have a 6 pack.
Jean: Yar... what makes him so...
Me: He is truly good-looking. And being so tall helps. Oh, there's Kyle. Does he have a 6 pack... okay he does.
Jean: Yar, you see. Max, he works out a lot, is it?
Me: Yes, I think he does. Those 6 packs... WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT 6 PACKS? Watch the show!

Madness. Jean - the person with whom such ridiculous conversations abound. Hilarious. I talk crap about boys when I'm with Jean. I laugh a lot when I'm around Eunice, mostly because her laugh is contagious. I roll my eyes and sigh a lot around the birds. I scream a lot when I'm with my sister. We scream at the littlest things. Just tonight we screamed when we found out Supernatural was playing on AXN. How lame, I know. And when we watch tv, we always manage to scream at the same parts. We screamed the house down when Taufik won S'pore Idol.

And of course, tonight, mum, sis and me all screamed when Chris got voted off Idol. LIKE WHAT?! He was the best. It was either him or Katherine. It was devastating.

I should not be allowed to stay home for long periods. I've been home all day and I feel so sluggish, it's seriously turning my brain into mush. All I do is watch tv, eat, spend hours on the computer feeding whatever current obsession I have and sleep. I haven't even progressed with my arabic. Tomorrow, when I see Mudaris, I'll be stuttering while trying to recall the simplest words. Why am I such a procrastinator?

Lent Jean Season 1 of Roswell! She loves it. Yay! I have someone to rant with. What joy.

Here comes Roswell and other icons I've picked up:







More next time. :)

This entry is way overdue.

My birthday week was great. Went shopping with sis at Citylink Mall after school on friday. Bought Roswell Season 3 and got busted by my mom. Who went not as ballistic as I expected, but simply forbade me from buying anything anymore. Haha. -_- We also had waffle ice-cream at Gelare. The Wednesday before, I had meeting with birds at Bugis, and of course, I expected something. You can't help but do that. When that time of year comes round again, you have to be on your toes. Anyway, parked ourselves at Swensen's (where else?) for close to three hours. I received my presents. My three nutty friends can't seem to lay off from this whole DM fiasco (that is what, near 4 years old, now?) and gave me creative works involving that. Got lots of food. A weird all-about-you diary. A frame with some artistic work. :) Took photos.

Collection of presents from birds.

Also got perfume and brooches from mom, pants from dad, the sweetest letter on earth from sister plus a caramel sparkly lotion (love that!), a clock on a cushion from my brother.

Suddenly recalled that letter my sister wrote. I think I pity people who don't have sisters. :) There are just some things in this world you can't tell but only to your sister, and I thank God I have mine.

Hah! The latest Time mag has an article on that stupid mtv sweet 16 show. I cheered while reading. Here's a bit of it, titled Sweet 16 and Spoiled Rotten by Ana Marie Cox.

"Every culture has its coming-of-age rituals. A child is inducted into the adult realm through a transformative experience, whether it's becoming more steeped in religion or killing a deer or having a vision. It's true that I would be happy to send any of the children of 'My Super Sweet 16' into the desert by themselves for a while. Their blingy flings are not celebrations of accomplishment; they're clebrations of self. What used to mark the end of childhood now seems only an excuse to prolong the whiny, self-centred greediness that gives 'infantile' a bad name. Far from joining polite society like the debutants of the past, the kids gleefully rip through social graces, alienating friends and sacrificing tact all in the name of creating a VIP room filled with people too young to drive themselves home."

I feel a ramble bursting forth.

I just finished the second season of Roswell. I don't know how this cropped up, honestly. This sudden obsession. One minute I was having my hindi movie phase, and then, suddenly, I have an alien fetish. I didn't even really watch it when it aired in 2000-ish. Though I did buy the complete set of paperbacks, back in Sec 2. Gah. But anyway, just let me say: another example of a plot with increasing number of loopholes, but absolutely lovable characters. And I absolutely love the romantic, Romeo-Juliet syndrome, alien-human relationship between Michael and Maria. (You know, a girl who hates romance is probably lying, I think.) And there's the whole interspecies friendship, the I-know-an-alien Club and tragic destiny. Fascinating and entertaining. Initially, the whole FBI conspiracy thing was believable and pretty exciting, but then loopholes got bigger and bigger. Oh my god, how do I get my hands on Season 3?

Have med interview and moe interview on consecutive days. Very nice. I think I'll end up doing medicine, and all this doubts and desire to study psych has just been a distraction. Like a dream, and I think I've always known it was a dream. I mean, I think I'd still love doing psych, but somehow I know that medicine is the right choice. You know what, I'll just let God decide. If I get it, I get it.

People

Some people talk and talk
and never say a thing.
Some people look at you
and birds begin to sing.

Some people laugh and laugh
and yet you want to cry.
Some people touch your hand
and music fills the sky.

~ Charlotte Zolotow

That's from my old lit book, Poems Deep and Dangerous. Thought it sounded sweet, and true too.

Pakcik Mail is here from Kelantan, which means I can't watch my dvds and we all have to sit and chat. Which isn't a bad thing, but my obsession is in full force, so I can't think of much but it. He brought boxes of mangoes and keropok. Nice stuff.

MOE has called me for the interview. Don't let me screw up this one too. I want it badly, I think. (This is a problem. I don't know if I want anything for sure.)

It's been quite a while.

Life has been... what's the word; not purposeless, not exactly. More like life has been indefinite. For as long as I can remember, I've always known what the next step was going to be. You know, after Pri 1, there's Pri 2, and then 3, 4... And then Sec 1, and then JC. But now. I don't know where I'm going. And it's scary. I'm scared that I may regret a choice, and I cannot turn back.

It's fine being a teacher. I think it's also fine being a doctor, just the whole stress of handling lives. (just. hah.) It's fine being a scientist. It's fine being a manager. Everything's just fine. Right now, I need to know which would be more than fine; better, good, fantastic. Read me the future, please. I say the same thing everytime.

Have I mentioned that kids are tactless? They give the absolute naked truth, no hesitation. They tell you straight to your face if you're pretty, ugly, your clothes don't match or how boring it is to where the same shoes all the time. Sorry, but I don't exactly have a walk-in wardrobe, kids. I wore my glasses to school for the past two days and it's as though I've gotten a nose ring and marred my face for life. 'Teacher, why you wear glasses! Why! Why! You look funny. You look ugly.' Very nice, kids.

Of course, there's an upside to this tactlessness: Juicy gossip. Recently, a P2 kid told me and his entire class that he saw two teachers from the school doing stuff at MacDonalds. Of course, he never came about to saying what exactly that stuff was, because he just kept trailing off at the end of his sentence, but I concluded from the hysterical laughter of his friends and the constant 'EEEEEE' sound. I was almost hysterically laughing myself. Those poor teachers. But how could they. In public, where students could spot you. Very careless.

Also, I have very much confirmed my obsessive-compulsive disorder. I had once spent over $200 on Lymond, and that was bad enough. Recently, I splurged more on some dvds. A lot more, I might add. And to be specific, I bought the Roswell series, which cost a hell of a lot of money. Was in aftershock for one afternoon. My obsessions will be the death of me. Financially, parentally, mentally, socially.

What else can't I stand.

Secondary school couples. They truly irk me. There was one sitting in front of me in the bus today, and I rolled my eyes so much, they almost fell out of their sockets. ('Eh, let me see your handphone! Why cannot? You have things to hide from me?' And the boy gives her an of-course-I-have-some-things-to-be-kept-secret-for-I-am-Casanova look. I was almost banging my head against the window.)

I just can't help but think how much of a farce most teenage relationships (at that stage) are. It's like they're doing it for show; to feel grown up or cool. I suppose there are one or two in a hundred whose mutual feelings are genuine. But they seem rare. Of course, I speak without experience and this is merely what I perceive.

Besides, the whole idea of likelike lovelove thing just muddles me up. I don't see how one goes about having dates. How does one sit down in front of a person at a candlelit dinner and think, 'This person seems like a good candidate for a future bf/lover/husband/takeyourpick' and at the same time, carry out a conversation? I don't think I could ever do that. It's the same with making friends. I can never consciously befriend someone. If I start thinking about befriending someone, it immediately becomes impossible. It has to happen without my being aware; the closest friends I have came out of the blue, unplanned and when I realised I wanted them to be my friends, they already were. Plans are not my thing. (INFP - I Never Follow Plans).

The other thing I don't get is how people can say they don't love someone anymore; you know, break-ups, divorces. If you say that, you didn't love in the first place. Perhaps you lusted, fancied or simply admired. But you couldn't possibly have loved, because love is forever. Take your brother or sister: can you conceive the idea of not loving them anymore? No. Let alone your mum or dad. Maybe love can be tarnished with a bad memory or an act of betrayal, but I don't think it can be killed. If it can, it isn't love. Not in my dictionary. So this is probably also why I can't stand seeing all these couples - one minute they're all lovey-dovey and the next, they're with a different partner. Excuse me, you're giving love a bad name.

I can't take it. I've been so angry these days, and there's no outlet. There never has been. I suppose writing helps a bit, but not much. I always think that down the road, I'll become a psychonut - like Jim Carrey's character in Me, Myself and Irene. All my bottled anger will manifest in a split personality, and I'll end up murdering people. Sometimes I can't stand myself; blow up already!

I was walking around Orchard today, and I got so irrationally angry, I scared myself. I can't stand looking at all the Americanised, consumer-deceiving shops and ultra-slim models who probably just eat salad everyday and have never tasted chocolate since they were ten. I can't stand the atrocious prices of coffee and cakes and clothes. I can't stand brand-conscious maniacs. I can't stand people who overdress - do they think Wisma Atria is a catwalk?

I can't stand walking around Orchard itself. It's like the history of this whole place - my home -has been erased completely. To think this is supposed to be tanah melayu. Now, everywhere, it's just swarming with foreign people - those ang mohs and too many Chinese. And hardly a single mark left to show the true heritage of this land. They will keep rebuilding Geylang. The istana has been seized. The old rulers of this land gone. Who's to blame but the people themselves. Nobody fights; absolutely nobody. Everything's just, 'Okay, okay. canlah' right from the time of Raffles. That's the problem, nobody cares; not really. Even me - as soon as I pen all these frustrations down, I'll go back to conforming, to pretending it's all okay.

That it's okay that foreigners keep thinking Singapore is some island off the mainland of China. That it's okay, when I click Singapore as my country in Livejournal, all my font turns to Chinese. That it's okay when you say you're Singaporean in foreign land, they immediately converse in Chinese. That it's okay youngsters are not told the national language of this country is in fact, Malay, and they all wonder why our national anthem is so. Yes, I will go on pretending, that it's okay. That it doesn't make me mad, insulted, violated, made second class. We just keep on pretending and smile. And sooner or later, the true heritage will be gone. And future generations will smile in ignorance.

Let me just say first, for fear that the reader jumps to conclusions and I am labeled a racist, a prejudiced scumbug and all other associated phrases: I am not a Chinese hater. In fact, one could call me a turncoat of sorts, for I have few friends of my kind and numerous best friends who are Chinese. People are people, and I, of all people, detest any sort of discrimination.

Truly, I simply feel wronged. That there should be so little left that once belonged to this country, and that no one is salvaging anything, not really. And that history is slowly but certainly being overwritten. I am not asking for more than just a little respect for the origins of this place; that any misunderstandings of those sort are corrected and the truth not piled over with ignorance and neglect. So that those of us with ancestral roots from this very soil do not feel like a stranger in our own home.

One of the many things that just make me mad.

I am so worried about the VCF scholarship thing. What if they can't give a reply soon enough? And UCAS declines my offers for me? :( Feel stressed. I'll ask Edinburgh if they can let me give an answer later.

My sister saved one of her poems for literature in my computer once, and I came across it recently. And I realised it suits the current situation very aptly, since we're all going so many different places and my best friends will be across oceans. It's scary how things can change so fast within so short a time.

As I sit alone

With the warm sun on my back

I realise something’s missing

A part of me which lacks.

Could it be the trees,

Reaching for the sky?

Or could it be the children,

Walking home, who pass me by?

Perhaps, I miss the birds,

Chirping sweetly above my head?

All I feel is restlessness

A part of me is dead.

I know now what it is.

Now I realise what is wrong.

It’s the feeling, they call solitude,

All my friends are gone.

Of course I know,

That as we grow,

We have to make our way,

We all must plot a different course,

To go by everyday.

It's a simple poem but, yar loh.

I was just getting used to yesterday, and along came today.

Guilt boiling within me.

I am not in school today. It's just that I am so exhausted and I need rest and there's so many bloody applications and essays to do and everything's so rushed! And I have so many things going on simultaneously that if I did teach today, I can almost guarantee my essays will be extremely bad cause I'll be too tired to think coherently. I have Arabic today too. Gah. My P3 kids were going to do a skit... They'll be disappointed. (I'm so evil.) And when I called the school in the morning, the clerk sounded doubtful and asked if I had gone to the doctor, cause I said I wasn't feeling well. I said I hadn't. And then she was like 'Okay, okaylah...' At that point, the guilt started seeping in. It's not fair, am not feeling up for teaching and I can't take the day off, is it! Even the normal teachers get to have leave and they get paid. I get NO MONEY when I don't work, okay.

Anyway, going on to better things: DV 17 Part 1 is up!!! The beginning of the end. I'm sort of scared to continue reading. There won't be anymore DT after this! Feel like crying, almost. Haha. For three years, I've been on and off obsessed with it and it's pretty hard to accept that it's going to be over; that I don't have to agonise over the long wait for the next chapter.

I cannot even begin to think of this scenario with regards to HP canon without getting shivers. When I get the final book, I think I will bawl my eyes out, I will. What a nut, right.

What's the right thing to do? Make other people happy, or make yourself happy? I don't see how I can be happy if the people around me aren't, so I suppose it's the former. At least there's joy in seeing the smiles on other people's faces. Rather than lukewarm comments that go, "Oh, is it?" or "Eh..." which subliminally say - what a waste.

I just feel so. Nyyyeaaah. There's no word for it.

If only there was a book of the future, or at least one I can access. Tell me what am supposed to pick, do, choose. What. I don't care much about the anticipation crap lah okay (except in books). I just want to know what the right thing is.

Well, the unspeakable thing has come and passed. Was tearing as I sat in front of Ms Lo, waiting for the result slip, the fear reaching its zenith at that point. My hands were shaking visibly too . Ms Lo, I think, found it amusing to see us all like that, shaking like lambs. She assured me with a smile that I had done well, and I gathered the courage to look at it. Of course, my ungraded physics S made me stop short but when I saw the my merit for Bio I was thoroughly relieved. It was more than I could ask for. And straight As. As did 59.5% of RJ. Thank God, I say. At least this hurdle is over, and we can go on with our lives no matter what has happened.

Maybe some of us didn't get what we wanted. But I suppose we have to learn to see the bright side of everything. No matter how hard that may be.

Anyway, now. The unbearable applications.

Went back to look at old bird forum. Read through the Lymond posts and realised so many of the discussions were unfinished and left hanging. Mostly because, I suppose, a Lymond review requires a lot of brainpower and time, and we all know how time is so hard to come by. And once someone posts something excessively long (review of Checkmate), no one feels compelled to reply it in equally 'freaky proportions'. (I quote Turk.)

One of my favourite quotes of all time, when Lymond fell in love:

And deep within him, missing its accustomed tread, his heart paused, and gave one single stroke, as if on an anvil.

It can't be that simple. What a sudden realisation. Fiction.

1 am. What am I doing here? Have basic theory test on Monday! Gah. And the unspeakable thing on Wednesday.

A day should definitely be longer than 24 hours. There's so much to do, so little time. Teaching takes up the entire morning and the early afternoon. Then I will only reach home close to 3 pm. I sit down, have lunch and flip through the tv channels. If there's something good on (which there rarely is) or there's a cd I crave watcing, I'll park myself in front of the screen till about 5.30 pm, give or take. This, that, toilet time, prayer time... I switch on my comp at about 6 pm. I video edit, which takes AGES, and read mail, update blog, or check for DT update etc simultaneously. Prayer time again, then after that, about 5 minutes break before dinner. Dinner at 8 pm: it's all setting food, eating food and then clean up remains of food. And I will finish everything at about 9 pm. After that, the good tv shows come on. Desperate Housewives and Dia on Monday, OC and Sembilu on Tuesday.

On Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights, am a bit freer, then will start to read a bit. Am simultaneously reading Virgin Earth, The Intelligencer and Boundaries of the Soul. Also have Basic Theory Test to study for, and Arabic to revise. I normally fail to do what I want. Should probably cut down on tv. Gah.

Today: screamed at both my math classes. Finally had some effect on them.

~~~

From Allan Massie:

... the author who does not pause to gather wayside flowers or, more appropriately in this context, to reflect on his narrative, is like man who hurries through a city in search of experience and never pauses to gather it...

Potato nightmare. Sure, it was a good idea to begin with, pige. But the kids are impossible. Only a miserable two of them brought their potatoes for the potato printing art lesson. Then they were shouting and didn't want to share potatoes or paint (which wasn't even theirs in the first place! was the school's.) and someone spilled green paint all over the floor. Was furious with them. Made them line up outside for a long time and told them I'd never bring them to the art room ever again.

Can't take it. My tongue is inconceivably numb. Why am I so slow to speak. It's like there's an exceptionally long synapse between my brain and tongue. Can't stand it! Even Mudaris said something along those lines. I can understand things fast but my progress of speech is otherwise. Maybe I should just remain passive, and write and type all my life.

But then I scream at the kids. My throat has barely recuperated and it's already straining once again. I swear, these kids are psychotic. Collectively, they are a bunch of monsters. I don't understand why they must yell, and not speak. I brought a P1 class to the eco garden today, and they run around like it's the zoo. My heart was in my throat half the time for fear some of them might fall into the pond, and kill themselves and the fishes in the process. The bridge over the pond was a tiny platform and close to ten of them were shoving each other on it. I was screaming 'Move! Move!' and waving my arms like a mad woman.

But individually, they are lovable. At the end of the day, this P2 girl called Bella came running to me and hugged me out of the blue, and said 'Teacher, I love you!' The first word that popped into my head: NUTS. But then, what else could I do but say 'I love you too' in response. And then I got a nice Get Well Card yesterday and a red pen from one of the P5s. They can be adorable.

The favourite questions the students ask me are:

Teacher, why you so short ah?
I narrow my eyes and say, 'Does it matter?' And they just grin stupidly. You little nincompoop. If I knew why, I wouldn't be this way.

Teacher, how old are you?
If I feel like it, I tell them. Then they'll be all 'Wah... Still young.' How old do they think they are, 63?

Teacher, when are you getting married?
When I first encountered this, I was @_@. You would think kids have more on their minds. I say, 'Not yet.' And give them a look, and they grin sheepishly, again.

Teacher, can I go toilet?
Absolute favourite. For P1s, when someone asks and I consent, four more will pop up simultaneously claiming they have urgent business. This especially gets on my nerves. And then I'll announce that no one goes to the toilet.

Teacher, I tell you something?
If I'm somehow free and patient, I say 'What?' And then I'll almost always regret it. Most will start complaining about how his friend punched him in the face or any other body part, others will launch into some long-winded pointless story (lower primary). After the first sentence, the urge to roll eyes or laugh hysterically is sometimes unbearable.

Teaching is such a mix of everything. Now I have to stop blogging and go make some potato prints for P3 art tomorrow. They will most definitely forget to bring what I told them.

Have fallen terribly sick. Bones aching all over. Throat feels worse than sandpaper; feels like spikes.

I had a dream once where I had fallen terminally ill. It was some heart disease that was seemingly incurable. The doctor was left with few choices of treatment and told my family that one option was to have a surgery (memory of the details of this evade me). There was a 50% chance that I would not survive the operation. So naturally, my parents were worried. But I remember being completely calm and relaxed about this. I wasn't afraid to die. I thought about how good I've been in life (mostly), so I was sure hell wasn't my destination. And I had my unshakeable faith. Allah would not forsake me.

But when the day before the surgery arrived, I woke with a new terror. Suddenly I was afraid. And it was because I realised I would miss out on so many things in life. I haven't seen Scotland, haven't driven a car, haven't gone to uni, haven't fallen in love, haven't mastered arabic, haven't reread Lymond, haven't been to Nikki's Indian wedding. The list goes on. It was during this dawning of realisation that I woke up. Was so relieved. What's left now is to do all those things I thought I wouldnt get to do.

Bird outing next Sat! Yay. And Casanova on Fri. Nice.