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Tuesday, May 30
He whacked me on the head with a pseudo-wooden baseball bat. I did likewise with an axe that periodically emitted odd noises. Toys these days are incredibly co0lzx. FYI, I just found out there are Lego sets that cost up to $700. Nobody goes for plain ol' wooden building blocks anymore. Nope, all wrapped in plastick, its fantastic.
Helluva ride, dudes!
Happy Birthday, HO HUISHAN!
We're celebrating it on time for once. ;)
P.S - Anyone recalls the name of the cartoon about trolls with green thumbs?
[/EDIT]
Found it!
"This animated feature from Don Bluth is aimed toward very young children. It follows the exploits of Stanley, the nicest troll in Troll Land. Unfortunately, the other trolls do not like too much... More"
I rly like this show -
Wonder how I'll get to watch it again.
Studman.
What's your excuse for being so sexy?
Cat got your tongue?
I observed with slight wistfulness a tabby cat perched on the roof of a Mercedes-Benz, comfortably sprawled out as if it were her throne; cleaning her royal coat of fur - if only I could queen over my world that well.
Summer breeze.
I went for a run today.
It was nice to slowly take in the surroundings of places I usually whiz past at 80km/h. It was nice to gather new perspectives on various things, and reminiscently recount the old ones, all the time keeping a fair pace in my under-used Nike trainers.
Like how absurd it is that Mcdonald's - in an attempt to delude themselves that they are, really, selling healthy food - claims that french fries are high in fibre. Or how my seemingly trivial attempts to flash a smile at anyone I passed seemed to contribute heavily (or so I pride myself) to general social well-being. And sniggering inwardly at street names like Bloxhome Drive, which sounds like something you'd build out of a Lego box.
I then decided to explore, at random, a private housing estate. The fun thing about private estates (albeit a regular taxi driver's nightmare) is that after a few deliberate wrong turns, you really never know where you'll end up. Me?
I thereby chanced upon Chong Boon Springs.
In case you're wondering where on earth this quaint little place is, its actually at Ang Mo Kio Ave 10, as a glance up the nearest HDB block so tells me. And, as expected, no springs whatsoever in sight. These odd names.
Anyway.
Deciding a long walk is indicated, I set my sights toward a northerly direction and my expedition begins. The seldom traversed backstreets of AMK are surprisingly well-enhanced for strolling pleasure. Lush greenery and minimal traffic ensues. Coupled with the cooling prequel to a sky that's going to pour, its all terribly enjoyable. And then, before I can dwell further on the romanticism the place entails, my serene thoughts are rudely interrupted by an SMS from my Mum which reads: Grand Uncle passed away this morning.
For a few minutes, I glaze over the death and agonize over recalling who Grand Uncle is. The peaceful walk thus ends. Morbid and contemplative thoughts about life and death follow.
And then, at the horizon of the road that reads Ang Mo Kio Ave 3, I see with slight disappointment the familiar bustle of Ang Mo Kio Central.
Of all the places, its here right now.
It suddenly occurred to me (in no less than the impact akin to being hit by a very fast-moving Thomas the Tank Engine) that I will never be good enough. And maybe that's why imagining myself with you always seems so wrong.
She's poised and perfect, with beauty and grace.
She sweeps her long hair and everything falls into place.
Yellow's just a brighter shade of black.
If there's been one consistent thought on my mind the past week or so, its the brilliant theory I've been expounding on - that everything is relative.
Ants are giants in Bacteria World; Purple is blue as compared to Red; you're thin on the set of The Biggest Loser; lions are docile compared to dragons; happiness after tragedy is seemingly two-fold; you'd be good-looking if you disfigured everyone around you; weird dress sense is only relative to what's normal; and Derek would look fair if he were in Africa.
Such is relativity.
So you can't say you don't like me, because compared to eating your greens, you really do. And you can't say I'm talking nonsense, because compared to Jacky Wu, I'm not either. Ha ha. Gotcha.
In essence, I've just packaged a tiny little loophole in a world surrounded by judgements and standards. Shake well before use.
Yes, my friend, you're not stupid - everyone else is just smarter.
-
Question:
Do you know the Muffin Man?
Listen.
Pull out the stops -
Got your attention.
Blast this.
Okay, couldn't bring myself to leave everyone with some lame song lyrics you could search off the net from any emo-teens website. Gahh.
In case you're wondering, I just deleted song lyrics to Corrinne May's Something About You, a rather more obscure piece of hers - and for good reason, the lyrics are just.. So annoyingly appropriate. And as we all know, its somewhat of a fashion these days to keep your feelings (and lyrics) as cryptic and nonsensical as possible.
Well, passing over song lyrics, I was just wondering if my tendency to work out opinions of other people based on the fact that they smoke is, well, flawed. I suppose it is. In my world, you smoke, I choke. And say bye bye.
But that was before I started working in a cafe. I swear, everyone smokes there. The customers, the staff, the managers - hell, even the hot plates smoke. Heh heh heh. But yeah. You end up talking to people, making friends, when all of a sudden they whip out a cigarette and your whole concept of Big Bad Smokers comes crashing down.
The world sure isn't seperated into Good People and Smokers, that I'm certain - but somehow I find myself being very averse to people who smoke. Which brings me back to my question - should my opinions on people change simply because they smoke? The simple answer is no, of course not!
But err... Can't help it, really.
Smoking is bad for your health, and for my image of you, do0ds.
Polygraph, now!
If I had the choice as to what superpower I'd like to be endowed with, I'd go with Mind-Reading. Unfortunately, I did not have a choice, and all I'm stuck with are these Stunning Good Looks. Oh, ha ha.
But seriously, wouldn't it be nice (albeit potentially warped and shocking) to be able to delve into the sordid and enclosed depths of people's heads? Wouldn't it be nice to know if he even likes you at all? Or wouldn't it just be fun to see what that cute guy who just walked past thought of your new dress.
I realise I think odd thoughts when my mind wanders. Oddities of which include wondering what Jason Mraz is doing at this very moment; stacking up curiosities about the possible traumatic life story of the taxidriver uncle; pondering over pertinent issues like the number of flies I must have accidentally swallowed in this lifetime; and marvelling over tasks I know I'll never be able to accomplish, like building underground MRT stations and writing the screenplay for Lost.
Even so, the other part of my not-so-conscious state of mind is spent wondering about random people's lives. I wonder if that old lady with her numerous NTUC plastic bags was once a ballet dancer. I wonder if that maid carrying a kid has any kids of her own. I wonder about the presumably romantic story behind how that couple met (and what gives them the right to repeatedly treat us to nauseating shows of affection).
I wonder what you wonder about.
That being said, in all dissent and irrelevance, working for 4 days straight on weekends is no mean feat. But it is mean on the feet. Cue groans. Thank you very much.
Wanton.
Because I'm out of words.
Ickle fickle.
I apologise for the perpetual lack of depth and entertainment value in my writings of late. But since you're here -
Thought of the day:
All dojos smell exactly the same.
For the moments when I feel faint.
Cheryl's current mood is: Depressed.
Insert appropriate emoticon.
Bang Bang Shoot SHOOT!
Today my iPod committed audio promiscuity by playing Westlife back to back with Metallica. I forgave it cause it proceeded on to a Jason Mraz medley.
Today I was in a relatively isolated and enclosed area, chockfull of guys with presumably satisfactorily hot bods. I swear I didn't ogle.
Today I finally got a taste of Brewerkz food (and beer, of course). It's yummy - I'm contemplating ordering my dinner from there everyday instead. Mexican food needs more variety, man.
Today I was bored so I made a new skin for my blog. And there you have it.
My day.
Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up.
Pink is the new punk.
We watched a show about love and mermaids.
One myth too many, if you ask me.
Wonderboy on speed dial.
Harbourfront, 1 minute. Train's here. The show's about to begin. Down two steps a time. Frantic push toward the doors along with the bustling and anxious crowd. We all need to get where we want to go. Beep beep beep. Quick, rush in. Quick, grab his hand. What's that, a shove in the wrong direction. Doors closing. Too late. The train pulls away slowly with no regard for the passenger its left behind. Do you even have a clue. Next train, 8 minutes.
Kel is 18!
Hokay, I found this such a nicely aesthetic picture that I decided to feature it even though I'm evidently not in it. I know The 9 Smiles sounds like some gay Taiwanese boy band shitz, (and the picture in no way helps to disprove that fallacy) but still - you gotta admit its a sweet lil pic, eh?
All my pretty little boys in a row.
Sweet.
Sitting silent wearing Sunday best.
The streets of Singapore as we know them are currently littered (for lack of a better word) with posters and banners screaming political propaganda. PAP signs reminiscent of the tags on our kindergarten uniforms; banners reminding us that we're united or something like that. Yet my SBS bus zooms past and nobody takes a second glance.
Election Day, whatever else it may be - is to most merely a slightly less celebrated public holiday. This whole kerfuffle over contesting is just a big show, if you ask me. I mean, if you really consider it seriously. Like seriously.
Workers' Party against the PAP?
That's like the next door coffeeshop western food stall vying with Mcdonald's for market share. Completely pointless and futile. I'm not saying Macs is the best - they can substitute beef patties for cardboard and sell them as cheeseburgers, melt their ice-cream and call it a milkshake, steadily add extra to the value of their Extra Value Meals - but still we know they're gonna rule the world someday.
As long as people get their Hello Kitty toys once in awhile (read: progress package), are allowed to tap their ez-link cards to earn points, and manage to be wholly convinced that they're lovin' it - who's gonna complain? We all know we're living good lives. We've progressed from a little fishing village, yada yada... We're comfortable. Who's gonna really make a stand about the democracy we never really had, when life inside this cage protects us from the jungle out there.
It's easy to poke fun at our pseudo-democratic system, its easy to say that we should have freedom! But when it really comes down to it, I think stability comes at a price. Every government has it shortcomings, nothing is perfect. Democracy sure as hell isn't - look who the US got out of it.
So complain all we like, I say the PAP is here stay forever and ever amen.
Least until the Japs decide to attack us again and there emerges a new hero who brings us all out of our impoverished state and builds HDB flats on any landspace he can find.
Cast your votes, friends.
Scrabble pieces in disarray; spell it out for me, what does your heart say.
Somewhere along the way, love has unobtrusively joined the ranks of dreams and childhood ambitions - ever-present longings overshadowed by their increasing unattainability. Somewhere along the way, love has almost become a fairytale. A place where princesses find their happy endings - but where I can only read about. Romance? Bah, non-existent.
And then I have to ask myself why.
Love can't be that hard to find, dammit, it seems to be all around me. How has it managed to become that elusive? I really wonder. Maybe its just me.
Or maybe its Maybelline.
The reek of nicotine.
In open fields of wild flowers,
She breathes the air and flies away
She thanks her Jesus for
The daises and the roses
In no simple language,
Someday she'll understand
The meaning of it all.
Hadn't played this song in ages til today - brought back many memories of performances in Cedar, carefree singing sessions in church and so on. I really like this song. And I really miss my iPod.
Today at Shaun's house we ordered Macs, and when the delivery guy finally came, he walked to the door and said, "Hi.... Oh shit!". Like what?? Did you squash my fries? Did you drop a piece of my 6-piece nuggets on the way? Well, no, it turns out he forgot to bring some sheet that tells him which pocket our food is in. (There's this huge bag full of pockets of food, see.) So he tells us he'll rush back down to get the sheet and come back - and leave the bag here. So the bagful of fries and whatnot was left on Shaun's doorstep. Needless to say, we did what anyone would do - took the bag and took photos of ourselves carrying it! (Okay, more like I made Ariel do it.) But yeah. It was weird. And very tempting.
Then today at work I kinda spilled some salsa on this guy in a tight white singlet and even tighter hot pants. Sick. And I don't mean the mess.
Mixing morbid mango milkshakes.
I got into NTU ADM,
and emotionless as this post may seem, I'm pretty damn happy about it. (I'm just freaking tired now - and trying to express it through a conspicuous lack of exclaimation marks.) Amazingly, I got the letter on the same day we had our Power Praying session at BAY. Hur. Thanks to everyone who prayed - be it shouting, in under 10 seconds, or blindly.
Wheee!
(There, I managed it.)
Fact is, the title of this post has nothing to do with its contents. That's just so emo. But if I like to put completely unrelated and convoluted alliterations in my title, well, I will.
And if you want a life-changing experience while sadly constrained by your financial means - $3 will get you a omgwthkrazykickass Durian Prata at The Roti Prata House at Thomson. I accept your grateful thanks in advance.
Jubba jubba.
