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Saturday, September 30
Today in class, I found myself surreptitiously sniggering at what seemed to me the most amusing fact - that the male model that I was, well, drawing, was called Drew. Following which I had lunch at a canteen named 'The Bus-stop', after dropping off at the bus-stop outside it which was labelled 'Canteen 2'. And then Yahoo! News screamed at me - perhaps the greatest irony of all - about Steve Irwin being killed while filming 'Ocean's Deadliest'.
Under your skin is sin.
Been, uh, rather tied up this week.
Tranquil.
It's still you; Always been.
Murphy's flaw.
Can't quite figure out which is more disturbing - losing my visual virginity to an annoyingly fidgety (and not cute!) male model during drawing class, or witnessing two promiscuous lizards getting it on on the wall outside my room door.
I shudder to think of the baby lizards that follow.
I can;t save the world.
It's not so hard to imagine, sitting alone in my room with my tousled bangs and newly acquired emo-red specs, that I am possibly the loneliest person in the world right now. It's not so hard to imagine, because even though I am purportedly connected to the world though the usual MSN and whatnot, no one has said a single "hello" since I've declared myself online.
And then, it's not hard to imagine why I constantly stray towards being Busy or Away, when I am actually not. Perhaps its not so much of avoiding conversation as avoiding the lack of it. Does everyone sink into similar states of depression? Do your eyes scroll over your crowded contact list, waiting for that annoying little sound and a pop-up, telling you you've received a message? Maybe if I just said hi I could make your day.
I know you'd make mine.
It is comforting to catch up with old friends - as I have been doing this past week - but at the same time, there are fleeting moments when you realise how much their lives have gone on just like yours has. You wonder if they've missed you as much as you've missed them. You wonder if there will be more inside jokes which leave you with a slight grin on your face in mock comprehension. It's not so hard to imagine, is it?
As it is, I am rather tired of meeting new people.
It comes when you try too hard to show people who you are - when you really shouldn't have to. My name is Cheryl and I am not the arty-farty person you think I am, I miss my math problems; I am not so quiet, you have just never heard me loud; I am not all sunshine and smiles, I think more than you think. I am not at all cute. And I am amazed you even know I have a blog.*
Because as I lay comfortably in the backseat of Joel's car this afternoon, having a smart-casual conversation about I-can't-remember-what, I distinctly remembered what it felt to be me.
*Cue Boston lyrics.
Roses are red, violets aren't blue.
Today I so happy 'cause Giddy call me his girlfwen. Tee hee heex.
Frescoes.
School-boy cut.
Could you iron out my ironies?
I always thought he was invincible (albeit a tad disastrous in his unmistakable khakis). This is just a tribute, Mr Crocodile Hunter.