the time to sleep is now

This is a declare hate for myself entry.

I am one arrogant bitch. I thought I would have been selected for that damned scholarship; I didn't doubt it at all. I thought I did a more than fine job; apparently I didn't. The worst thing is, I don't even know what I didn't do well enough in And that speaks so much - of my fucking arrogance, of my shameless over-confidence.

Life has been going too well for us dears, because we, as a social strata, cannot deal with rejection. Oh yes we can and we have, you say. Only rejection that we're prepared for.

But nah, the lack of a scholarship is not the issue. It's the fact that life smacked me straight in the face when my eyes were closed because I was just so assuming and damnit cocky.

ARGH I disgust myself because I can't even fucking write coherantly now, let alone write well, HA.

What's new, what's new.

everything changes but you?

LOVE//lola haskins

She tries it on, like a dress.
She decides it doesn’t fit
and starts to take it off.
Her skin comes, too.

mindless meme

my ex is going to get too buff a bod in dive school.

maybe i should stop looking for perfection, tsk that'll make things so much so much easier.
i love the power of the spoken and written. haha am too easy to be charmed.

i don’t understand what i do sometimes. i know what i do, but that doesn't mean i understand why i do the things i do, no?
i lose interest in some things too easily and am digustingly stuborn with some others. most of the time, with people.
people say i’m too idealistic and too pragmatic, all at the same time.
love is something i struggle to identify, though (surprise surprise) I believe in its existence. ah, a walking contradiction.

somewhere, someone is thinking of me? haha wouldn’t that be nice.

i will always think i'm too fat : \ i think (and hope) i am only joking when I say forty kilos.

forever is a concept reserved for fairy tales; a word that carries with it so much responsibility to be ever undertaken to its fullest. never, never promise.
when i wake up in the morning i silently wish that it’s raining so i’ll have an excuse not to go running. now you know why the fats don’t burn, ha.

my past was fucked up, deliriously happy and exhilirating all at the same time; and impossible to relive.
i get annoyed when people do not make an effort to maintain friendships !

i have a low tolerance for people who don't pick up calls and anal me will redial and redial and redial.
parties are for the days when all we want is total abandonment as we lose ourselves in a mass of bodies.

kisses are the best when received in the most of unexpected times (:

tomorrow, i will probably be late for school because tonight I’m gonna do a SATC dvd marathon. watch the downward spiral of my moral standards ha.

i really want to start dieting and running again! where did that determination (albeit to an unhealthy extent) i had at the start of j2 go?

an AWAKENING dream, boy

Overdue pictures from week back when we were at Pho Chine ( :

purple is love !

this is the song that never ends

Jumbled up clauses that can’t seem to be arranged -

Ex-lovers whom you used to share intimate moments with, snuggled up on his couch, turning into near-strangers juxtaposed with those random new infatuations who were mere acquaintances and will be mere acquaintances.

It’s a wonder how relationships evolve (and degenerate). Don't even mention the speed and frequency of that blossom-and-wither cycle. The plain fact that they do, and to such previously unimaginable extents makes us all fuckedups, quite, the way we allow them to swerve outta control.

(You especially, the way you outrightly declared your state of denial just to enjoy those moments, you silly.)

But baah! Ask me out for coffee soon please, because I am so floored!

Ha, told you I'm such a fickle fuckedup; though a captivated one too, quite.

russian dolls are we

ripped off somewhere online.

but really, if the truth has to be told, this is it, from a guy's point of view.

"les filles c'est comme des poupées russes, on passe sa vie entière à jouer ce jeu là, on est curieux de savoir qui sera la dernière, la toute petite qui était cachée depuis le début avant toutes les autres. on ne peut pas l'attraper directement, on est obligé de suivre un cheminement, faut les ouvrir l'une après l'autre en se demandant à chaque fois, est-ce que c’est elle la dernière ?"

"girls are like russian dolls, we spend our entire lives playing that game, we want to know who will be the last, that tiny one hidden from the beginning in all the others. we can't get to it directly, we have to follow a path, we have to open them one after the other, asking ourselves each time, is this the last, is this the one?"

gaussian blur filters again

Semi ficticious, semi autobiographical.
Fantasy bleeds into reality while reality blurs and fades into...

post existence, that's all.

What are memories?
Are they lomographic still snapshots of definitive moments, silent black and white films that are a little grainy and fuzzy at the edges with age, or souvenirs from a vintage era locked in jewel boxes..?

Then again, they're no different from each other -

so distant, almost semi-fantastical.

And I'm such a sucker for TALENT, damnit.

almost coincidental

Black Angus for dinner today ( : Good ambience out there in the al fresco with the Singapore skyline behind you (rather behind me so you got the good view). So yes thank you for the dinner though after that I kept falling asleep as we sat and went through our typical casual conversations that were too comfortable and put me too much at ease.

But yays for a good pre-enlistment night out :D

Though tsk, it really wouldn't have made much of a difference if the issue was raised. But ah, good that all's fine and dandy.

bob along (and away)

Before I fall asleep:

Do you not hate the negative connotations the simple diction of "change" encompasses? I detest it, almost with a vengeance, the way they (who exactly, I wonder too) make it sound like it's within your control. Is it really? Do we decide to change and can we insist not to? Are we not just bobbing on the waters and tides of change?

... or are we simply making excuses?

are we for real?

Racing to gulp down martinis and bourbons till your throat burns; leaning over to get offers of sips of that nameless face's jug of vodka. Dancing, face pressed against a friend's friend, a semi-stranger, even though there's mutual awareness of someone blissully (and of course ignorantly) fast asleep; giving yourself up to the music, allowing it to take complete control over the gears or your already almost-shamelessly gyrating body.

All that and so much more, as we lose ourselves in a crowd of people who are no longer individuals but mere bodies to us.

Yet, why do we still?