Bds.

"Why do bds suddenly appeeearrr, everytaam you are neeeearr. Just like mes, they longs to be. Crose to yooooo."

Haha. Me and papa's private joke.

Osney.

I miss when Olie used to look up to me when she was young. I was the one. The playmate, the rolemodel, the one to kachiow when she was bored, the one to accuse of stealing when she lost chocho. Now she's all grown up and developing a mind of her own, and in a way i'm glad she is too. But i miss the little round cheeked, round eyed tomboy who used to gallop around behind me, picking up my bad habits. She was so cute. Now she's gotten pretty, skinny, and a bit headstrong. But i'm so proud. My small sister is growing up. That's not one of the things i thought would ever happen.

When we were little we used to play a little game on the tiresome drives we took when we went on holiday to The Half-bridge Land (or land-of-halfway-build-bridge-throw-tantrum-and-give-up). We would kneel on the back seat and peer out on the road behind us. Then after agreeing that all red cars are bad guys, we would proceed to send them to their doom by shooting them with our turret guns ie. hands.

PIEWPIEWPIEWPIEW!!! Eh i shoot that one already! Quick there got another one! AHHHHHh!!!! IT'S COMING IT'S COMING! PIEWPIEW!!! Wah heng ah.

We were so cute. We continued until either we got bored or carsick or papa barked at us to be quiet cos he was getting a headache.

I miss my little friend, the my little impish sidekick. My wingman of mayhem.















She giggled when i called her Osney.

Yes. Even though you dont deserve me.

I've started writing strong, recurring feelings down. Not here though. Some are too private for public display. I might post some here if i feel like it, though. Like so. Comments are welcome. Questions are not.

Why does it happen, everytime i see you? Your presence reduces me to a mumbling idiot. I am a quivering mess evertime you walk by. You dont even know.
I think of clever things to say, lost in a reverie, for the next time i see you, whenever. But they run and hide when you appear, leaving me at a rueful loss for words. Then words of delicious humour and razor sharp wit cascade into my lap the moment i sink, head in hands, into a heap on the floor. They dance in impish glee, taunting my attempts, poisoning my thoughts.
I dont want to feel like that, I realy dont. I get distracted for hours on end, thinking about what happened, and what should have happened. If only i dared. But i dont. Everytime.
All this gets tiring after a while.
I always smile and pretend i dont feel a thing. I lie when my answer to your greeting is "I'm fine." Because right at that moment i'm not. I'm in an insane panic.
You dont even know.

Princess Delicate Skin.

Melvin: Eh excuse me ah, Melvin Chay (whose chinese name i have forgotten). Not my fault okay. It came out from the packaging torn. I WANT A REFUND!

Charm: Hellooo Charmerainers! YEAY!! Thank you thank you. It's all very flattering thank you thank you. hehehheh.

Cai: Oh dear. Are you okay now? You said you couldnt wait to enlist. Must have been delirious with fever. Haha. And no i didnt ace my exams. Comes from slacking all year round and mugging like hell for exams. Doesnt work in uni man...

I am very tired of my glasses. They make me very self-concious and make my eyes tired. I keep taking them off when i study, and then i cannot see the things at the far end of my desk. Also, they create attractive little indents where they perch, and my princess skin cannot stand them.

One more week, ladies. One more week. I'm coming home! I'm not as excited as the last time though, for some reason. Maybe because papa came over. Or because i'm more adjusted now. Or maybe just because i'm a spoilt little girl and i went home too many times the past year so no more kick. =)

Yes. I rather think the last options rules all. Dont get me wrong though, i'm still very happy to be going home.

Mr. Johnson and Johnson of the Acuvue Dept.

I opened my last pair of contact lenses this morning, and to my extreme annoyance, the right lens was torn. WHY? WHY? WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME, MR JOHNSON AND JOHNSON? So i'm going to have to wear my glasses for the next ten days. Oh the unglamness. I just realised that they make my face acorn-shaped. I dont know if thats good or bad. But i'm awfully disgruntled with this sudden turn of events, anyhow. Excuse me, i want to complain!!!

Cai: No you dont. Why do you say that?

Whahoooo!!! Calculus is no more. Finisss liao. *hophophophop*

Hahahaha. Pokepoke.

"NOBODY LOVES ME!" i bawl.

Where's my man??? I want to wail and whine about my 'darling' enlisting, and how much i will miss his hugs and kisses, and the chocolates and diamonds he showers me with. I will moan like a tormented soul, of how cruel the government is for conscripting our strapping young men, the loves of our lives, to be shorn to resemble toilet brushes and to scrub the bathroom floors of Tekong. Made to endure physical feats they never thought possible when they were but wee ones running after soccer balls in the school field, and to eat dirty tau gey with long tangly roots (contribution from papa). I will look at him with adoration when he comes home on weekends, and tell him how strong he is, how noble his cause, how proud i am to be the love of one so utterly brave. Darling, the blood of this nation runs through your very veins.

Yes, that's what i dream of. All the girls back home are doing it, those my age. But no, i'm an alien in my own land.

For i have no man.

Ghioca.

Problem.
Find (arctan(x))(2007)(0) (i.e. the 2007th derivative of
arctan(x) at x = 0).
There is no way to keep differentiating arctan(x) and hope to see
some pattern. The derivatives get soon very ugly. Instead, we use
the already computed power series for arctan(x):
____________________________________________________________

My calculus prof writes his lecture slides exactly like he speaks. Just say the above with an Italian accent and throw your arms about Italian-like, and there you go.

Thid, Diego and Manny.

Ugh.

I thus conclude that i'm a pig. I eat too much. Pa and i just had lunch at Harvest Moon and my very full stomach is very inconveniently compressing my diaphram (the spelling looks suspiciously wrong) and it feels like when Natalie hit my solar plexus when we were sparring long ago. *pukes all over the nice library computer*

Pa and i went to watch Ice Age 2 yesterday. WOOHOOO! It's the funniest thing i've seen in a very long time. I promise you, i laughed throughout the entire movie. I command all to watch it. It's even better than the first one, really. And at the end, i felt like i could tackle all the miserable calculus problems in the world. (Must have taken in too much oxygen.) I like the tiger Diego. I feel he's very handsome. And so proud. This, i am told, is being very anthropomorphic, and not good for studying zoology.

All the parents at the movie brought their kids. And well, so did my Pa.

Meh.

I dont much like calculus. My eyes hurt and my head throbs. And the stupid practice questions do NOT have solutions. Not even answers. So retarded please. How am i supposed to know if i'm on the right track or not? Probably not too, since my brains feel like smushed bananas now. At least tell us what we're supposed to be getting so that we can move on comfortably with our lives.

I havent been sleeping well at all. For the first time in my life i have prolonged eyebags. !*(^!(*&%!&(%. So ugly ah please. I think i need a nap right now. I shall exclude myself from the library and go to bed.

"Because you're mine, I walk the line."

- Johnny Cash

Nat.

Jessie: Hello womany. It's not refering to God la. Although it would be holy to say so. But i cant make that claim haha. It's you know who! heh.

I'm in love! With a guy in my dream. His name is Nathaniel (or however you spell that). I dont know how my subconcious came up with him but it did. And he's all i would want in a guy, please. He was cute, went to my church, and we got along so well, same sense of humour and all that. I called him Nat (not to be confused with Nat Tang though). He's also angmoh, but thats besides the point. Oh subconcious, subconcious, good work i must say. I must be a genius.

Papa has been here 6 days now. And i like him here!! I also conclude that i'm a pretty spoilt kiddo. But i'm proud of it thankyouverymuch. Anyway, the other day we were having dinner in Commons - pasta in olive oil and herbs - and then this angmoh girl at the next table got very excited about something and very attractively started hollering and clapping much like a delighted chimp.

Papa looked over and commented, "Wah. So expressive."

I laughed and drooled olive oil.

I saw your face and heard you call my name.

Ti Amero

EVERYONE should listen to Il Divo. EVERYONE.

Because i demand it, being empress-dowager-of-the-universe-forever-and-ever-amen. And, of course, also because they are SO GOOD. They stir up my soul and makes it melt into gold. They make me think of the dark and the deep, of the velvet night sky and a crisp breeze, I soar with eagles over majestic mountains, over a castle on a hill, flags unfurled. Dark wood, purple capes, great banners going to war. A cathedral, deep and cool, resonant with splendor and history of mighty times long gone. I also think of lovers in love.

I swear, Il Divo's Ti Amero is the very essense of exhilaration. I think i shall marry a man who can sing. Not just carry a tune, mind. Sing. Like Josh Groban. I'd marry him if he asked me. =)

I'll also consider the guy who says the following to me:

I only wanna be the man
to give you everything I can
every day and every night
love you for all my life.
I don't wanna change the world
as long as you're my girl
it's more than enough,
just to be the man you love.

________________________________________________________

Only after the last tree haas been cut down
Only after the last river has been poisoned
Only after the last fish has been caught
Only then will you find that money cannot be eaten.

- An old Indian saying


It's terrible how all the big shots in their high seats dont care anything about what their doing to the environment and to biodiversity when they plan their clever little moneymaking schemes in their nifty little boardrooms on like the 43rd floor. Lets see them attempt to stuff dollar bills down their throats when the last dolphin chokes to death on a plastic bottle.

With global warming going on as it does, soon the only livable place will be Canada.

Spring Must Be a Woman.

The Top Eleven:

1. God.
2. the Family.
3. Love. In all its guises.
4. Music.
5. Sunlight.
6. Life.
7. Flowers.
8. Shopping.
9. the Friends.
10. Colour.
11. Books.


The above are the top eleven things that make me happy, or the things that my life should never be without (not necessarily in order). These need to be elaborated on, for their full intended meaning to be extracted. But sorry. Lazy. For me to know. I should probably put coffee in somewhere too, since nowadays my brain is a woozy mess without Starbucks. Medium Verona is my companion every morning in Mills Library. Plus a blueberry muffin from Tim Hortons.

The weather has been a crazy bitch these days. One day you wake up to golden sunshine and bright skies, and you think it's warm out so you wear a pretty skirt and slippers and a coat that is hardly a coat. But is it warm? No. Nontheless, you battle the winds to Mills Library with your friend medium Verona. And after studying for an hour, you run off to math class, and you find it has gotten hot outside with the afternoon sun (yay). So humming along with your ipod shuffle (who has gotten a very glamourous revamp, by the way), you skip to the other end of campus where math is held. After math class, you realise the fair sky has turned slate grey (in a matter of less than an hour!) and is dropping fat raindrops on everything. Of course your coat-that-is-hardly-a-coat is of no use in this particular situation, even in spite of Vighnesh's umbrella which you both huddle under, since he's so much taller. So, Matt offers you his coat (so nice) which you drape haphazardly on yourself since your hands are full, looking very unglamourous as a result. You all troop off towards our destinations together, a rather odd looking trio: You and Vighnesh scuttling along, each trying to get as much umbrella as possible, and Matt loping along beside us with his hood on, trying to look like he doesnt know us. And in the meantime your slippered feet are soaked, and more importantly, frozen to the point of numbness. Presently, Vighnesh pipes up,

Vighnesh: Maybe we should sing!
Vera: Yes. Because that would make us seem less weird.
Matt: HAHAHHAHAHAHHA! Aw snap!

And yet another day, you wake up to skies dull with clouds like dirty wool. You wear two coats and warm socks and almost take your gloves. But the temperature is a freaking 13 degrees! So you steam and puff all the way to Mills and up 3 flights of stairs looking for a table, where you thankfully strip all unecessary layers off your skin.

I thus conclude,
that spring must be a woman.

Sleepsleepsleeper.

On Saturday night i wrote the following in a notebook while i was on my bed trying to get to sleep:

Okay, so. I ate the sleeping pill. I went to shower to let it take effect. I blogged twice to let my hair dry. I lay down under the comforter and manipulated myself into a comfortable position. I'm not falling asleep and my feet are starting to get hot. So i turn the light on again and read my bible. Colossians 1:13-14. Philippians 4. Jeremiah 33:3. I pray for a bit. My eyes, i find, can be opened wide. NOT GOOD. And my brain is not nearly as woozy enough to stop me from thinking about unecessary things. DAMN IT! It's not working man! I'm starting to think the effect of the pill has worn off and that gets the worry chain started. So there goes my last hope of a good night's dreamless sleep. Well done, Vera. Marvellous job, i say. You just mamaged to screw up the pop-a-sleeping-pill-and-go-to-sleep regime.

I salute you and name you dictator-for-life-of-the-world. O great and very clever one.

(unitalicized)
And with that i fell asleep.

V

"This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished, as the once vital voice of the verisimilitude now venerates what they once vilified. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of
volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V. "

-V in V for Vendetta

I'm in love with Love.

Little Library Ramble.

A little rambling thought as i potter about in the library with my friend Polar Coordinates and his best friend Parametric Equations. (I realise i am very slow with both of them as they zoom along merrily with their abstract theories and marvellous methods. I am tired. I should find myself more like-minded company. But i cant. It's too late now. I need them both for exams.) Okay here's what i was thinking as i was working:

Do people notice the amount of time someone takes in the bathroom? If, say, someone is sitting conveniently near the entrance of a bathroom, does he/she make a mental note of how long each person spends in there, and then infer what kind of business they must have been engaged in with the toilet? I just wonder because I am horribly concious when i have to poo in public bathrooms. I'm afraid the individual sitting outside the bathroom will comment to his buddy after i cautiously emerge, " Ha! This one! She must have taken a dump." Then they will both snigger conspiratorily at my retreating behind, who at the moment will very much like to be galloping to the other end of the room with all the speed it can gather.

I'm afraid; because that's what i'd be doing if i was the fellow sitting outside the bathroom.

Our sins catch up with us. Do unto others what you would have others do to you. Or rather, dont.