onearmbreak's Xanga

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 10:02:51 GMT

If your number is 97306005,

you are an asshole and deserve to be shot in the balls after getting circumcised, without anaesthesia.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

Sat, 07 Jun 2008 12:01:48 GMT

Always remember.

Monday, June 02, 2008

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 10:23:08 GMT

We drived around for over an hour yesterday. The quest for abandonment, all the way in Punggol.

Or more specific: in search of the Matilda house.

The search proved difficult. But I guess a house so isolated and abandoned shouldn't be too easy to find.

In chronological order (more or less):

We stopped by the OBS jetty place. There were all these people there who were fishing / hanging around / taking photographs. Just stuff.

The thing about Punggol is that there are like a million constrcution sites for HDB flats and all there. I've still yet to take a walk to that Floridian condo near my place.

It wans't easy getting to the Matilda house. It's highly inaccessible and driving isn't an option. There was no path to follow either.

We finally reached the house after sometime - to find that it had been fenced up. Shit, yes I know. The photographs weren't up to standard (or whatever I have left of it).

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Wed, 28 May 2008 09:26:20 GMT

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

And the thoughts invariably catch up with me, and that want, or need if you should so perceive, to crawl up into a ditch and lie there forever, til the end of time. And just disappear.

Bloody wonderful plan if you ask me.

I'm tired of pursuing my dreams.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Wed, 21 May 2008 09:26:52 GMT

I'm finally updating after a terribly long hiatus at Limzy's behest.

I've been thinking about stuff lately, and too much of that isn't a very good thing. And it's somehow managed to make me launch into some sort of despondency. Very bad timing indeed.

Was it ever worth it? Is it ever worth it to sacrifice so much of yourself?

The urge to do something insane just to put me into a trigger happy rush keeps on tugging on my heart.
Something stupid and brash.

I love the feeling of being so sleep deprived and random bouts of racing thoughts pelting me, and then it ebbs away leaving behind a gentle hum.

What the hell am I doing with my life?

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Sat, 12 Apr 2008 20:06:36 GMT

Gawd. This entire week's been incredibly trying and exhausting for me.

Monday: Class camp
Tuesday: Class camp

Class camp could have been worse. It wasn't a blast, but not because of the people I went with (all that revelations nonsense was quite enlightening). I guess school itself is already just so tiring and with thoughts of the then-upcoming physical fitness test and Bio test and datelines to meet looming in the recesses of our minds.

I'm so sick of Pulau Ubin. It's always Pulau Ubin. I'm starting to think that the reason why schools continually dump students there for various camps/activities is to provide a source of food for the omnipresent mutant mosquitoes so as to provide balance to the ecosystem there.

TEH NASTIEST!

But we did have those momentary periods of fun. Like in the toilet with Becky. Exhaustion and absence can do alot to someone. Hur hur.

Crashed after I got back home, all the way from 6pm to 6am.

Wednesday: 5 items + training
Thursday: 2.4km

'Nuff said. Stayed up to mug for Bio. By this time, it'd started seeping into your bones.

Friday: Bio test + mass baking until the next morning

Staying up to mug for Bio didn't really help anything. I'm probably going to fail because I kept on getting collagen and cellulose mixed up and I forgot all my molecules. And I don't know what the heck catechol is still.

Training ended at around 1940, which was bloody late considering that we'd have to bake to the next morning.

Ian came by at around 10 pm and we watched Midsomer Murders (some orchid episode with that horny lady who liked them because they resembled a certain part of the human anatomy) and Guitar Hero-ed a bit whilst waiting for people to arrive.

Saturday: Bake + ORA Walk-a-Jogathon + friendly with ORA

We officially started baking at around 11pm. Thank goodness for the new oven because it's so delightful and awesome. We Guitar Hero-ed in between batches, and I crashed on the couch at about 2+ am. Kudos to those who didn't sleep / baked through most of the night. I hope no one gets food poisoning.

And we successfully managed to force people to buy over 200 Nutella cupcakes.

When I finally got home, I crashed from 4.30 to 6 am, which kinda disorientated me. Because I thought it was 6pm, except the sky was so dark, and it was like "huh wtf's up with the sunset timings? The sky's usually this dark at 7.45pm, not 6pm". And I SMS-ed my mom to help me procure black high socks for softball because I thought she was still in town. And I called up Ricky because I thought I still had a chance to send her off since her flight was on Saturday at 9pm, but her phone was off. ><

And then, click, oh hell. So I effectively spent the better part of my Saturday slumbering, and TODAY IS SUNDAY.

My lovely recount for the entire week.

**Edit! The PICTURE OF THE DISGUSTING INSECT wasn't taken by me. I wouldn't touch those things with a ten foot pole.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 07:42:45 GMT

I don't make it a point to post essays up reguarly, since half of the ones I compose have the ability to lull you to slumber. However, having slaved over this one until 3 am on Wednesday morning, and it tickled some people, I figured I'd just put this here since I've got nothing substantial to post anyways.

BOYS

My entire class, 09S03D, comprises of people who spent at least the previous two years in single-sex schools. Prior to junior college, the last time I’ve been in a co-ed school was in kindergarten in 1996. Yes, that means 10 years with practically no contact with guys. Everything was simple, and boys were a foreign concept. We openly discussed “girl issues” such as a certain time of the month, hottest celebrities and actors, and uh, tampons. We even had fun throwing around pads when someone needed it.

Well anyway, I suppose you can say that entering a co-ed school was a pivotal milestone in my life. Boys! Testosterone laden boys. REAL guys. I felt like a nun who’s been locked up for the last 10 years of her life being liberated, uninhibited, and I’m sure many of my friends felt that way. Or maybe not.

However, my perceptions of boys being somewhat charming were thwarted within the first few days of school.

Having spent the last ten years in an all-girls Methodist school where language was generally PG-13 and I was probably one of the more vulgar students around, I was appalled hear the wide range of vocabulary that some of the guys used. WHY do boys have a penchant for punctuating their sentences with vulgarities? Does it aid in bringing across a point? Is it so gratifying that it outweighs the expense of debauching other people’s minds? I know a friend who’s been cursed with an excessively crude guy in her class. This is what he sounded like the other day when he furiously stormed into class, “*bleep* LAH. *bleep* *bleep*. WHAT A *female dog*…” Take a walk around school, and soon you’ll be armed with an arsenal of new words to use on enemies or your younger siblings.

Guys also have an affinity for sordid word play. Another friend of mine was unlucky to be the victim that. Ben Tay knows about this all too well. On one fine day, a guy went to up to that friend, Tess, and asked her to tickle him. Afterwards, he gleefully pranced around regaling, “TESS TICKLED ME!” And just yesterday over lunch, a friend was discussing “unicellular orgasms” and “multicelluar orgasms”. I was utterly flummoxed, whilst trying to calm the violent peristaltic movements that my stomach was making in attempt to express my disgust.

Boys are not as simple as they claim to be. A no means no, but a yes can mean no too. When we say that we want to foot our own bills, they think we’re too independent for our own good, and when we allow them to, they complain that girls feed off them. So what is it that guys want us to do?

The tiniest compliments can inflate their egos to monolithic proportions at speeds comparable to the rate at which the universe is currently expanding. Or worse, said guy may come to some deluded conclusion that said girl, in teenage jargon, is “into him”. And if we fail to praise our male counterparts, they grumble about us not recognizing their contribution. So what on earth are we to say and do?

These tempestuous creatures can go from something signifying jaunty and upbeat, to stark raving mad and blaming everything on the girl in a matter of seconds if some wrong words are uttered. And this isn’t even when they’re PMS-ing.

Guys also seem to like to complain about our complaints and whining. Sure we may bitch and whine, please excuse my language, but at least we’re voicing our opinions and feelings, which is rather therapeutic by the way. Ergo it saves them from having to endure random bouts of anger from us and us biting their heads right off. And there too are exceptions to be made. If our complaints are laced with words like “leak”, “stain”, “cramps”, “monthly”, “bloated”, “water retention”, “pads”, “freaking uncomfortable”, well, boys shouldn’t be complaining about our complaints. They never had and never will need to deal with such painful monthly matters like an excess of prostaglandins in their blood.

As Dutch psychologist Yvonne Kroonenberg so perfectly put it, “One gets used to anything, except a guy.”

Thursday, April 03, 2008

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 07:11:20 GMT

I miss the nights when we'd practically camp out in the MG canteen, mugging into the night in an attempt to compress as much knowledge in our puny little brains.

We'd start somewhere in mid-afternoon. People came and people went. I'd try to pick a table which had good feng shui (read: felt like the best place to study for that day). And at around 6pm, we'd either order food, or some girl's magnanimous parent would drop by with food.

Breaners and her drawing of that wrinkled pruney grandmother. Chemistry TYS 'bible'. Leaking mishaps. History was the worst.

The details have already started fuzzing.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 06:16:37 GMT

Serotonin levels dip, cortisol levels soar.

Just breathe.

I'm bloody tired of school, but oddly, I'm enjoying it in some weird sense. And I guess I've got Choe, Becky and Raina to thank for keeping me sane by inducing insanity in me during lessons, mainly. Couple that with random chortling and bouts of bimbo-ness.

Procrastination has once again taken a grip of me and yanked me from my PW PI and GP speech which I'm rewriting due to some rather violent response to FC's speech on girls on Monday.

My ankle's sprained again, and this time it didn't involve tripping over any objects (id est. my own feet, my friend's feet). It was a hole. In the ground. That blasted hole. Thankfully the swelling has subsided beautifully and I'll probably be partaking in the ~~torture~~ fun activities constituting 7 rounds during PE tomorrow. All in the name for PFT.

April Fools was delighting. I finally got to spend a day out with Ricks since she's back in sunny S'pore. We had xiao long bao at Din Tai Fung in Paragon. Stewpid Reeks thought she ordered a basket of 6. We ended with 10. I wonder why Ricks ><

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 09:26:52 GMT

There was a sweet girl of Decatur

Who went to sea on a freighter.

She was screwed by the master

-An utter disaster-

But the crew all made up for it later.