Classé dans : 1
I have watched Le Fabuleux Destin D’Amelie Poulain 12 times since I bought the DVD last summer, 5 times in one day.
Yes, I am quite neurotic.
Classé dans : Life
My blog has been contrived into a persuasion of lyrical melancholy.
These days, I write about nothing but the miasma of depression that clouds heavily over me. I don’t know if this clinical depression, or just my stupid emotions compelling me to act this way but it’s like my bad mood gives me the prerogative to callously throw people around like useless toys I grow tired of playing. I am increasingly impatient with the sluggish attitude that people around me have adopted. What happened to big city livin’? Singapore IS a big city so why can’t people walk in the pace associated like one, with the confidence that flicks the royal one finger salute at whoever gives too much of a damn. With the heat, and the swarm of people filling every iota of space, I start to wonder how it’s like to free fall. Not that the consequences of suicide or the method is appealing.. Just the feeling of falling into nothing, instead of being jostled around. My window grills make like a prison cell, designed to keep me within myself.. Designed to keep others out. My contempt for society is building up so quickly, even I am surprised. I find myself snapping at people, for inane and intolerable things. Gone are the days where I graciously keep mum because that’s the “asian way”. But the expression of anger does nothing to quell my rage, it just keeps adding on hopelessly.
Believe it or not, I really do try my hardest here. I go about my usual business with school and etsy. But so often, I am paralyzed by this indelible pang of loneliness reverberating within me . I just want to sit on the sidewalk and bawl my eyes out. Nothing helps. School creates a bubble of insulation, because when I am there I am distracted by smiles and guiles. My anger skids off in a thousand direction and there is no tangible focus. Very soon, I forget about about the vulnerability, the acrimony and the bleakness of my life. Gratefully, I am insulated when I’m in the chatterbox, and when I’m in class learning. Knowledge – of the world, in classes and about other people’s lives, make me forget and offer me a brief respite. But it’s so easy to be reminded of my animosity towards this entire system of living that is Singapore, just a look around and you’ll see that almost everyone on campus looks the same, speaks the same and is socialized to be carbon copy of each other. This place makes people lose their identity.
I know I can’t go on for the next few months. I know I should stop feeling this way, and I know another hundred upon thousand things to keep in mind from disparate advice of people. I know exactly why I am in such a debilitating state. I know exactly what I should do and I wish people would stop telling me what I already know. I also understand that it’s awkward and a blow to your self esteem to see someone falling into a thousand pieces knowing that there is nothing you can possibly do to alleviate any pain. But to make yourself feel better and to bridge the gaping silence after a slew of angry melancholia, you do the genial things and offer generic words of feel-good.
I despair because this place isn’t where I want to be anymore. Because I am without Patrick. I took comfort in the musical tinkling of the dryer and the soft whirring of the washing machine, I can’t explain the unspeakable feeling I get when I take laundry out of the dryer — pieces of warm fabric melting to the touch scented of domesticated comfort and soft linen. I miss my house and the privacy that epitomizes home , I crave for the beautiful feeling of peace that blossoms in my heart when the cold air hits my face awakening my senses. I miss the dogs who remind me that perhaps the world isn’t so cold when even lesser beings understand what it means to love. My heart longs to sit outside of my backyard thrilled with the sublime knowledge that this is property belongs to me that I have a stake in this country which I do not belong to yet. I miss the distant orchestra of sirens faraway that remind me that there is justice in spite of pervasive iniquity. I was in a place where I knew my rights and my freedom was the wench in any fight. I miss the gratification that open space gives me, and up into a spider web of tree branches and just feeling so tenaciously happy without a care in the world.
And here.. What about? I am just an irate and unhappy person stuck in a quagmire of her own misery in a sea of nothing.
So you see, I’m really not that destitute wretch as society may lead you to believe of depressed people. Before you condescend me and tell me everything will be ok ( which I know it will eventually, that’s not the issue ), perhaps an invitation on a friday night for margaritas by the river would appropriate the issue.
I suppose this blog makes you feel more alive, because I am barely pulling through life supported by a tendon of hope for a better, happier tomorrow.
Classé dans : 1
This place is a wasteland.
A wasteland of lonely nights, work filled days and a series of unhappy occurrences falling in step, day by day. While going back to school is a welcome distraction, I am not at all pleased by the stress and the horrible work load of this semester not withstanding the ISM. Everyone seems to be talking about their ISMs these days, which I find somewhat comforting and a little bothersome. What’s the fuss about doing ISMs anyway? Besides the fact that it’s a USP requirement, I’m only doing it as proof of a writing sample to get into law school. Otherwise, I’d really be much happier without it.
It seems I’m always hungry in Singapore. Local food no longer whets my appetite. Instead, I crave for subway, tgifriday’s, olive garden and the like. Such a travesty, I hear you say. Not to say there’s anything wrong with the food here– chicken rice is delectable as is the pak chor mee. But I think part of missing a particular cuisine comes with a longing, a desire to be back in an area of familiarity or a place you fell in love with. And I can’t say I have much fondness for Singapore even if it’s a place of familiarity but not the sort I welcome. Boredom can be said to be a mode of familiarity and ennui best describes how I feel towards Singapore. Not that I don’t explore the city state enough. I go to chinatown twice a week for bead shopping and I soak in the sights of chinois. I go to little indie for my eyebrows once a month and get hustled and bustled by people all over. I am at arab street every twice a week for business again. See, I do explore the little vernacular settlements of singapore. I avoid orchard like the plague because I can hardly breathe when I’m there without ruffling the hair of another. The underpasses are too claustrophobic and for the life of me, why would I want to be enclosed in such a space ( or lack thereof). I’m just SO tired of this country. I hate the weather, the people are SO rude, there’s nothing to do here. Cafe iguana is only fun with people willing to go. Sarah and Bonnie aren’t around anymore..
I’m annoyed that I have to come back here, deal with the stress of school, the crazy weather and of course, my darling parents. Call me the prodigal daughter or other fanciful name for the lack of filial piety but.. I hardly even miss them when I’m away. I definitely don’t miss singapore, I don’t miss anything about this place.. Can you believe it? Patrick makes me chicken rice so I’m quite happy about that and as the meticulous chef he is, he only serves up the best. And I actually get dark meat, instead of a mess of skin and bones with little tendons of meat in between. I don’t miss the food here AT ALL, because I can get awesome sushi from ft. meade and amazing korean food all around. Thai food there is about a 15 mins drive away too, and there’s chinese american take out which is pretty tasty. In portland, I have my fill of vietnamese pho beef noodles and a caboodle of chinese dim sum restaurants that are pretty good. Not as much variety as the one I go to in Chinatown ( yum cha ) but more authentic on many many counts. They have frozen prata at the supermarket too, btw and it tastes fantastic. All piping hot and crispy, not the stale prata you get here often times.
There are so much more stuff to do and much better food where I’m at in the US than here. I can’t stand oily malay food anymore, and I hardly eat Indian food save for prata which I can get in the states anyway. And I maintain that the sushi there is SO much better than the crappy ones you find at the joints here.
And the shopping there. DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED! Clothes there are 1. cheaper 2. better quality than the crap you get at far east. GAP is cheap as heck in the outlet mall by my place because c’mon it’s GAP! Geez.. They charge GAP clothes for the prices of BCBG there. Ridiculous. Online shopping is awesome because shipping is cheap within the 50 states and the variety is wonderful. And I embrace the individualism in the way people dress there. It’s just so refreshing.. Here, in spite of the hot weather and the horrible humidity, girls wear tights. Like every other girl you see in NUS wears that, and some old looking ‘little miss’ shirt that is SO hideous and faded. Clones, I call them.
Of course it sucks balls that patrick isn’t here. I think anywhere could be remotely bearable and maybe enjoyable if he was with me. I’m quite happy being in Maryland, doing laundry. Laundry, yes THAT. I love doing laundry there because my clothes come out soft, warm and smelling soo good. I love hearing the sound of the dryer spinning, don’t ask why. I love that I can sit in my living room and stare out at the vast land of my backyard and the canopy of trees above.. It’s nice to know that this is my land and I can do whatever the hell with it. I miss our summer barbeques, the baby back ribs marinated in teriyaki.. Oulala! I miss my bathroom. I miss my huge ass bed, I miss waking up next to the hubby.. I miss my carpeted room. GAH.
I feel my bitching engine coming to a slow stop as my quest for food grows stronger by the minute.
Apologies in advance if this posts offends you, but perhaps you agree to what I say with a little twinge in your heart? It’ll be our little secret 
Classé dans : 1
Yes we do, and there’s no such thing as having too much of the mean green.
I am getting hell from my parents for incurring a $900 phone bill of international calls, roaming and overseas smses. While I am quite sorry about that now, since I have to pay them back for burning a hole in my dad’s pocket, and I KNOW I have no cause to justify myself. But I feel like things would be different if our broadband wireless was better, so my internet doesn’t keep dropping out and using skype is actually an option. On my part, I’ve also been using phone cards so I don’t understand why the phone bill is so fucking high. Maybe because I was so sick and stressed last semester of school. Well, my parents aren’t forking out much for my education and I find it terribly unfair that I have to give them a portion of my salary as ‘penance’ when I’ve found a job. I thought about it seriously yesterday with Patrick and it is apparent that I’ll be quite broke. My salary, no matter how much ( I’m thinking USD$3000 ) will have to go towards paying for our house, our wedding, taxes towards my parents AND college fees. AND law school fees of course.
I know, I should just stick to webcamming with him on msn which is free. I should buy more phone cards. I should use the home phone. I should stop being so talkative when words weigh so heavily on the pocket. But in my defence ( as always) my internet connection sucks so webcamming is hardly enjoyable when the video freezes and the voice lags ( h-e-lllll-oooohhhh). I do buy phone cards, just not enough. The home phone is in the living room where the TV is and my family is generally too inconsiderate to lower the volume when I’m on the phone. Plus my sister hogs the portable phone. Life would be so SO much easier if they just installed a second line in my room for about 50 bucks a month. Of course, my mom being the cheapskate chinese she is, refuses to. She thinks that I will become bankrupt someday because the phone bill reflects my spendthrift nature and demands that the White Man pay for the diabolical deeds of her daughter. I love how supporting my mom is truly.
SIGH. I need to stop using my cell phone so much to call Patrick.
Reminder to self : buy more calling cards and use the home phone.
Classé dans : 1
If you didn’t already know, I am back in Singapore. Have been for a couple of days now and my jet lag is finally starting to wear off some. My pessimism about this year however, has held steadfast and shows no sign of abating with some rather depressing news about death and old age. Unhappily, I’ve also got my ISM proposal due in 6 days weighing down heavily upon my weary mind. Despite the rather gloomy outlook, I am determined to make the best of my circumstances, and find myself amidst this treacherous labyrinth of depression. I like to believe in a light at the end of the tunnel. Make like an earthworm you know?
Enough of wishful rhetorics.
I am very pleased to report that all my lecturers so far have been either amusing, pleasant or quite dynamic. My french class is already enjoyable with a pleasant-looking professor who makes terribly dry jokes, speaks with an unmistakable parisian accent intertwined with singlish and hasn’t once demeaned the United States. I am quite grateful for that, because apparently word has come to me that I speak with an American accent — an allegation I flatly deny and call absurd. For my democracy class, we have an english lad teaching us. No, he isn’t in his youngish 30s, I call him lad because it’s a very english word and this dude speaks with a lilting yorkshire accent with the awkward mannerisms of Mr Bean. I love it, he is barking. He also has a problem with lateness — something I got into trouble for twice today. Sigh. Time waits for no one and apparently Dr O’Sullivan doesn’t either. There’s Bilveer Singh who is quite the afficionada for political science, he really is. The way he jumps and roars each important syllable makes his lecture entertaining in its own right. Rather like a play. There’s Brad Williams for my north east asia class, who actually remembers my name. I am flattered!
Ok it’s half past 7 in the pm and I’m feeling tired already. I’ve still got readings to do and that goddamn proposal to finish writing by thursday.
College is such a pain in the fucking ass.
Classé dans : Agent of Amour
This feels terribly odd.
I have been hanging out alone the entire day today in my own home, without Patrick. There is the expectancy — the false hope, to await him from wherever he may have one to. To Lowe’s, to Shoppers, to Wa-Wa, to Papa John’s for some pizza, upstairs watching TV.. Certainly not far away and certainly not in North Carolina. My loneliness echoes within these 4 walls, bouncing to and fro back to me and this silence is such an oddity. Above, I hear the mad thundering of Frank hurling himself around in the main living room upstairs in a fey fit of playfulness. I hear the boys talking above the TV din; the dryer spins with the occasional tinkling of metal zippers against hot walls..
I saw him off at the airport this blustery wednesday morning, at 5.36 am. That precise moment of parting, I wiped my eyes and stared into concerned, lightning blue eyes and the pain magnified sevenfold. From the car, I watched The One walk away towards the lighted areas of airline signs, and tired attendants. After a while, my watery eyes lost him to the crowd of other people checking in.
This feels so wrong.
The little things.. Like being on the cold, leather couch all by myself. The artificial neatness of our living room, the clinical cleanliness of our coffee table.. I felt this horribly heavy, dense feeling of melancholy settle in my heart so that the only way I could go on with life was to do laundry, vacuum, clean up, talk to Limey, look at our pictures on facebook, listen to our songs, smell his cologne, take a shower alone and get dressed alone. I did a fair bit of growing up today, although I’m quite sure I’ll revert to the dependent lovelorn child when he’s around.
Tomorrow I leave for Portland. His parents’ place have always had a calming effect on me, my sleep in his sister’s room before she moved out have always been deep and entirely enjoyable. I’ve always enjoyed secret rendezvous to his room at night when I think nobody’s watching ( we sleep in separate bedrooms there, christians.. duh ) . Tomorrow, my feet might take me to his room again to grasp at a spectrum of yesterday’s memory, because it seems pain will help me get over myself.
I am counting down the days, months to being with you again my one true love.
Classé dans : Agent of Amour
I remember that night, we sat at a crappy bar in the middle of no where. Fetid cigarette smoke swirled around us, rock n roll blasted loudly from the jukebox behind as he held my hands and we laughed about something. Then Eric Clapton came on, and he started serenading. I remember that moment sharply, because it was the one song that came on that night which I knew the lyrics to. We sang along, our hearts in sync, lives in unison and voices melting. I felt my eyes threatening to water so I bit my lip and watched him.
Parting has never been easier despite the frequent flights, and the longest distance. Soon, I’ll slide into the monotony of life back in singapore and with an interest in school, a quick turn of business maybe things will get better. 2007 has been crappy but on hindsight, I got to see him more than I did in 2006 and probably more than I ever will this year. With the damned deployment and the suspicion that the military may withdraw the precious promise of leave this summer, or worse extend this horrible term. I cross my fingers and wait, afraid to hope and so anxious to be proven wrong of my pessimism.
So I sit here, surrounded by fresh laundry and the ghost of yesterday memories. I sit here, listening to all our songs and wishing you were still here. I hope with all my broken heart, that this is the last time we ever have to part like this.
I love you Patrick, come back safely to me. I’ll be waiting.
Classé dans : Life
Some bitch on etsy just wrote a longass negative comment for me on my storefront because I gave her a negative for not paying for her purchase. Seriously, what the fuck woman? She doesn’t understand that she has to PAY for online purchases and keeps repeating her claims that she didn’t even buy the item. Please.. If you didn’t buy the item, it wouldn’t even be eligible for feedback in the first place. I’m sure everyone who’s bought stuff on ebay will know exactly what I’m talking about.
So she goes on to bitch about how her ‘friend’ ( imaginary, I’m sure ) is a geologist who works for NASA and tells her that the chalcedony I sold her months back is fake and is a dyed quartz so I’m a quack seller for stones. That’s why I’m so convinced america never landed on the moon before the soviets did because HELLO, if you have such an unqualified retarded geologist who doesn’t know that chalcedony IS quartz, and that it is often dyed, then the U.S of frickin A never landed on the damn moon. Apparently, stone dye comes out easily when you place it in warm water. I’m sure that’s why people wear dyed quartz around their necks, so that when they perspire, they can sweat blue/red/green or even pink. So cool!
-_-
Anyway, she’s so retarded. She thinks that my beads and stuff I sell on my etsy can be found in stores in the US. LOL. That’s why I have to lug all my wares everywhere I travel. And that’s why I have monopoly over the Japanese tensha acrylic beads I sell as with other charms. I mean, seriously is this woman for real? A political science graduate of the UC Irvine who is such a joke? She accuses me of coercing her into buying stuff from my store. WTF??? I’m sure I can hold a gun to the head of a woman I’ve never even MET who’s from out of state all the way in california. Seriously, get real.
Anyway, if you’re interested in a bit of gossip mongering and amusement, here’s the feedback section of my store. She spells hilarious as “halarious”
Halarious, indeed.
*update*
The awesome team of etsy admin removed that spiteful little feedback and things are back to being fly again on the business front. Hurrah!
