Classé dans : Life
Oulala, pretty girls galore a feast for the male eyes and then some! But put away your fantasies ( which i want to hear nothing about ) and let’s be brutally honest, which do u prefer?
or
Duh Miss Norway. Miss Japan took the crown shockingly since Japan is the land of cherry blossoms and ugly girls with bad teeth. Aside from the saccharine sweetness oozing out of her looks, she lacks any sound intellect that Miss India, Norway and Korea have. At your convenience, here are the respective photos of Miss India that usually clinches the prize and is quite worthy this year as well, and Miss Korea who is arguably prettier than miss J-pop, only with more brain power to boast!
Miss India ( another favorite after Norway! )
Miss Korea
For a person who has the habit of always getting what she wants no matter the circumstances, disappointment can be quite the fatal blow.
The few days after the results of last semester’s fiasco have been shrouded by the terrible miasma of regret, disappointment and fear. I am reluctant to admit that I regret not working harder for my grades during the past semesters in college which resulted in this profound disappointment that envelops my heart and cast a shadow of fear onto my future. Now, more than ever I have doubts that I can qualify to go to Stanford for a post grad in political science. Fyi, the department demands for a 1. 3.8+ gpa 2. a GRE of 1500 and above out of 1600. It gets more absurd : they accept 12 out of hundreds upon thousands of applicants every year.
12.
Of course there are other choices for equally if not more deserving schools like Harvard, Michigan, Chicago, UVA. But Stanford is still for me after I’ve factored into the equation cost of living, housing expenses, the weather and location. I mean, Northern California with its eclectic of people, quintessential charm, clean beaches and amazing climate. And of course Stanford has a gorgeous campus, second best political science degree in the United States. Très parfait, now if only my gpa was good enough.
I have to do a reality check at this point because my gpa sucks and if it continues plummeting, I’m gonna have to pick my spot on the highway selling fruits. Well, maybe not. But I sure as hell would not want to work in a claustrophobic cubicle in XXX corporation, slaving for someone else’s realized dream. So, while I am doing absolutely nothing in Maryland save for the monthly read of The Economist and gothic prose, I’m gonna borrow Diana’s GRE studyguide and well, study from it. I’ll get a head start in studying for the GRE which I have definite plans to do in fall of 2008 and also get to learn some new words, however random and detached from everyday communication.
And next semester will scheduled back to back with study parties in the central library, level 3. Bring your laptop, notes, a bottle of water and the firmest resolution to pull up your gpa. Who’s in???
I know the next 2 years are going to be quite hellish what with the grim repertoire of harder modules . But I also know that my dream to study in Stanford, no matter how daunting or impossible it seems, is a worthwhile pursuit that I won’t regret.
Classé dans : Non classé
After reading Brandon’s blog, I decided to do the little survey thingey that he did. It’s pretty cool, what with nice thumbnails and good photography. Here’s the results of mine.
http://friends.imagini.net/vdna.php?uid=367002-7e27&srv=iwebcl5
All of which are personified by Diana and Justin, whom I have decided are minions of satan put on earth to make the lives of everyone difficult. If only I could find a way to blot them out of my existence in the worse, macabre manner possible without ______ being a crime, I would. In a flash, without flinching or battling an eyelid. But because _______ is a terrible horrible crime in the eyes of blind justice, I must content to throwing a verbal bitch fit online.
Lust & Greed
The traditional definition does not fit the category of hideous people but they greedfully lust after hedonistic pursuits like playstations, bikes, plasma TVs and complain about their dire economic straits while refusing to contribute money for food and electricity bill. Both of which have been incurred with heinous proportions through wasted food left out overnight for the flies to pirouette in, through the wanton use of the air conditioning left at full blast in a vacant room with the door left carelessly opened. In the medieval times of famine and scarcity, such waste would’ve incurred the death penalty of the very worse.
Gluttony
Diana steals my sushi, rice noodles, chicken broth and tofu for food when I, the emaciated Asian need those for my daily supplement having my abused stomach reject the greasy, deep fried foods that is the decayed cuisine of Americana.
Sloth
I resent the everyday chore of having to wash the dirty dishes of these filthy social recalcitrants. Their indolence is so bad that they conveniently forget to dump the remnants of their meals residing forlornly at the bottom of their bowls, into the fucking dishwasher. And of course, I do it only because I refuse to let the kitchen atrophy into a mess, with a shroud of flies swarming the basin.
Wrath
Justin hit me and shoved me into the path of an oncoming truck last summer outside the movie theaters. His last name is aptly, Anger charting the discourse of tantrums about the most eclectic of issues. The amusement is not lost on me of course.
Envy
Diana envies that I am Asian and therefore more beautiful in skin color, body shape, hair and facial characteristics than her jepalangness. Justin envies Patrick for being taller and bigger than he is, and of course having a house.
Pride
J&D are disdainful towards other people, without having the temerity to look at themselves insularly and realize the world does not own them a living. Apologizing to a frail, hungry Asian girl will not cause seismic activities that will cause a building to topple on you, contrary to what you believe. Of course, Diana doesn’t know that. I could bet the rest of my lifetime’s salary,my pension and all my make up and still be confident that Diana will never apologize. Unless she hits someone over, in which case she apologizes for the dent in the car the impact of hitting a body has made and will henceforth make you fork out 50% of her insurance from the hospital bed.
sigh
I find it sadly ironic that in the land of legendary gold-lined pavements and liberty, I am yoked into muted dissatisfaction and am quite the disenchanted person. My heart is back in Singapore, where I am safe in the comforting embrace of my parents, where my little brother dispense hugs with the generosity of familial pride, where my sister is respectful.. All in the backdrop of sunny Singapore where my friends are. Friends. I miss you, you and you who’s reading this right now and wondering who the reference is directed to. You, of whom chased me to the bathroom when I burst out in tears of frustration. You who gave me a toothbrush for my semi-permanent residence in your room. You, who gave me a stalk of pink rose to vindicate my guilt of failure post-production. You, who gave me a big hug and a cheerful smile everytime we meet, hiding the deep fatigue of schoolwork, datelines and life. You, who made ludicrous comments of the world and drew me into the parallel universe where things could be absurd. You took the first bus down at a call of disappointment from me. You who sat with me in lecture and made the 2 hours a little more bearable. You who came to see me in a class I didnt even show up for. All of you, who put many laughs, giggles, cynical smiles into project meetings on one too many grim Saturday in c-box. Those of you who christened my maiden experience of spirits and alcoholic debauchery. You, you and you who ate McDo’s and debated about philosophy and mental institutions in the secret twilight of PGP in your room of eternal sunshine.
I miss you, if you only knew how much.
Nervous Natalie.
Short from chewing on my nails like a neurotic, I prefer to shop because if the world ended tonight with a sharp drop in my gpa I know I spent the last few hours at Sephora and Victoria’s Secret. Ok fine, not the last few hours. More like the few 3 hours in the midst of this wait of trepidation. After the exam has been studied and sat for, assessed with good measure ( one would hope! ) it is absurd to keep ruminating over what I possibly might have done wrong, over what i could’ve studied better..
So true the axiom that fear is irrational.
Enough of this hypothetical musing and anxious rantings of a being too overwrought with angst. Here’s the shopping bag of items I bought today 
1.
The limited edition of Stila’s summer eyeshadow trio. I figured it’s about time I try a different color sans bronze/nude shades.
2. A secret embrace brassiere from Victoria’s Secret, no less. I can’t find the picture, sorry folks.
Yeah I feel kinda broke right now but the only comfort is that I won’t be spending anymore money that soon.
Classé dans : Life
“Hollywood… was the place where the United States perpetrated itself as a universal dream and put the dream into mass production. “
This quote by Angela Carter reflects my exact sentiments on how terrible a visual whore the entertainment industry has become. Not that anything profit driven ever had pure intentions — no ma’am not even the charity organizations who abscond with goodwill shillings or Wal-Mart for Starving Children in West Africa where a penny from each purchase is tossed into an ambition of goodwill. Unlike John Locke and other theorists expounding on the sublime liberation that freedom brings, I staunchly believe that all persons are evil inherently. Why, let a child grow up without the harsh instilling of discipline, without the painful tenets of morality or the stinging slap of the hand to serve as a prelude of capital punishment magnified ten fold, and the result is a beast whose mockery of the human race clouds the possibility of goodwill with a foul, heavy shroud.
But Hollywood in its deception only supplies the desires of our want of pretense and twisted theatrics.
It seems like everyone is born into the world, deceived into thinking that they are sui generis, God’s daughter born of love with unique talents that are unmatched by unworthy others. And yet, Ophelia’s muse we are not. Everyday so many of us twirl like puppets on a wooden stage with necromantic vigor spurred on by phantom fingers. The anonymous artisan above us delights in the amusement we bring, the song and dance items we stage, the prayers that tumble out of our mouths like grey ashes — an anthem of hope so sacred in the hour of despair. Ah, even deity worship is but a mere transaction of god’s glory and your earthly wants. But amidst this discourse of wretchedness, those who choose to believe ascend into the immortality of fate. Others make do with life in another parallel universe of white ash amid funeral cypresses and faded dreams.
Classé dans : Agent of Amour
Pipe dreams fade,
and all the underdogs get laid.
Left your heart in the hands of a jugglin clown.
And so you crave recognition,
but the keys to the city went missing
it seems like all I do these days is wait. wait for the mailman to come, wait for my ordered items in the mail, wait for someone to purchase something from my business site which has happened only once ever since i got to maryland. And understandably so, because nobody wants to pay $5 USD for postage when they can wait for me to come home before ordering.
so many days i feel like Vladimir and Pozzo, caught in a time capsule of desperate waiting for godot who never shows up. today, I wonder what I will do tomorrow. yesterday, i thought about what i would think today of the past while i meander away my future here. As Samuel Beckett puts it so aptly,
“To-morrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of to-day?”
i was so sick yesterday, retching until my chest ached of violent spasms. Damn Wendy’s! First the severed finger, now a rotten chicken nugget! So that was the highlight of my week, besides the twenty bucks sale transaction and the arrival of my beads in the mail on monday. The mailman disappoints on even days and today, my mailbox is empty.
I think it could amuse me to walk to and fro the mailbox like that old lady in Donnie Darko. Speaking of which, was a disastrous movie.
Movies. Hmmmm
I’d like to watch Paris J’taime someday. Really. In spite of myself, despite the cheesy love themes which I scorn.
Classé dans : Life
I got tired of xanga and the annoyingly small fonts that won’t disappear no matter how hard I try to change. It also got a tad too crowded for my liking, with varmints tagging anonymous insults on my tagboard.
well, none of that now with wordpress hopefully. Anyhow, here’s my maiden post, which pitifully lacks much in content.
Cheers to new beginnings and better web journalism!
