Now I'm actually quite confused.

Remember I got into trouble a little while back? Anyway, because of that, now I have to write an article for this campaign to raise money for tuition for the kids of cancer patients. I'm not balking about that.

As you know, my birthday is on the 3rd of September -- next Thursday. That guy, Dr. Koo, mentioned that his own son had organised a birthday party for himself and two other friends at a chalet when he was in Sec Three, and the three friends had told all friends to come and eat...with a catch. They were not to bring presents; instead they were to bring the money they would have spent on the present and donate it to that cause. They raised $700.

There is a part of me that says, this kinda thing comes along once in a lifetime. Quick, say you'll organise a party next Saturday after MG U14s, and invite all your friends. Then get them to donate, and forgo the presents this year.

But there's another part of me that says, it's too late already. Some may have already bought the presents (I don't know, not many friends give me presents). Some may not even want to come for some weirdo's party. Some may think it's embarrassing to let them know what they would have spent. Another part says, you can do this next year or something like that, don't forgo the presents, you only get them once a year.

I don't know what to do. I feel rather confused as I cannot make up my mind.

Sigh. I have to worry about, of all things, my birthday.
Somehow I can never be quite satisfied.

I'm not happy with my marks (CA3) although I passed everything but Geog. I'm not happy with debate because my status is so...very fragile. I never seem to improve no matter how much I try.

I'm not good at much at all, actually. I'm not that good at Lit, there's way more people in my class who scored damn high and left me lying in the dust. Lang? With a 13/25 for fucking Shakespeare and his bloody gay Antonio, I'm not going anywhere.

It feels weird when I try to go and talk to one of my classmates because I run out of conversation topics so damn quickly. It feels weird because they seem so clique-ish and I never feel at ease with them. The classmates are the kind that silence seems unnatural with them. I always get stuck with the leftovers for projects. Maybe others think about me that way too. And I can't even find a room mate for ROCs. People just take me for granted. They just think they can pick another room mate who's more popular, who's more cool, who's more pretty or whatever bloody fucking crap, and then they just say 'Oh I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you!'

Ohyeah, those bloody bitches. I always try not to be too sarcastic. I try to be nice. I try to please them by agreeing. I try to ask for things nicely. I try to fit in, to make conversation, to make them think that I'm an okay person, to stop them from having some warped twisted image of me that I read porno and is a violent dangerous fucking serial killer or whatever shit.

I try all day. I can't make it. They still don't like me, some still think I'm weird, some still think I'm dangerous.

I might as well be a bloody hermit, holed up with books, paper, pens, laptop, damn fast wireless, whatever I want.

I never am satisfied. I don't know what it is. Food, books, comics(manga), internet, fb, msn, fanfiction, writing, reading, calligraphy, music, piano, coffee, I don't know, alcohol, ice cream...chips, TV, I don't know. Nothing works. I just want more. I'm not satisfied with the alcoholic ice cream I consumed with my parents and an adult friend, I want the alcohol itself, I want the alcohol,

I still don't know what will satisfy me,

I still don't know what will make me contented,

I still don't know what will make me happy.

Exam grades?

Dream on.
Take 5 friends, a day with no school, some money, Singapore's stretch of Orchard Road and this blog author. Mix well. Result?

One fun-filled day, beginning at 1030 at Ion Orchard, then Orchard cineleisure, HMV, Heeren, and back to Orchard Cineleisure. Oh, add Burger King.

Other results: a box of chocolate in different flavours (pineapple, banana and strawberry being among them) for my father, neoprints (second time taking them!) and a small portable fan in a water bottle shape for my mother. Oh, and two pairs of earring (green zipper and white safety pin) for my friend's birthday present.

Then you take e-learning homework and a TV show. E-learning homework causes a very very deeply upset blog author, especially since she cannot watch her taped TV show. And yes she is pissed at most things in general.

You know there's something wrong with you when even the best day shopping with friends doesn't cheer you up for more than the time spent there. When you're still pissed at the littlest of things. Oh, and when you're generally pissed with life anyway, nothing makes sense, and nothing helps.

I need someone to sponsor me for retail therapy at Far East. And someone else to sponsor me for unlimited online shopping.
We all know that feeling.

That feeling that we all never are satisfied.

I can't help but think, there must be more than this. There must be more than just coming home, rushing homework, rushing dinner, rushing Internet time, rushing to get to sleep, struggling to sleep...

There must be more than just debate training. Than spending time at the comlab. Then spending time soaking up the glow of my laptop screen. Than plugged into my iPod. Than scouting songs, reading, writing, breathing...

There must be some profound reason. If there is a Creator, he/she would not have put us here merely as little voodoo dolls to toy around with. It's irritating. You seem to have control over everything. And yet over nothing.

You grasp the power of so many things in your hands. You hold part of the lives of the people around you. You're in control of the live which you unfortunately and maybe unwillingly live.

And yet we're not in control at all. If we're not in control, then who is?

Why must some of these fools here constantly believe in the idea of some ridiculous and preposterous Creator who doesn't even fricking CARE about the suffering here anyway?

Oh wait, we're just all the kah hng kia anyway. Just the small fry. If that fricking Creator of yours really exists, people, tell him to fix all the suffering. No poverty. No illnesses. No stress over work/school/fricking crap. Nothing but the conditions of a paradise.

Even so, I'll believe in one when I see one. Nowadays, it seems as though no one actually carries out the promises they make.

'I'll room with you for ROCs.'
'I'll lend you my Math worksheet and teach you how to do the sums.'
'I'll do a Math Project with you.'
'Sure, let's have lunch together.'
"We'll meet in the comlab?'

PFFT. PROMISES? SCREW PROMISES. And as for all the people who had made the above promises, they all didn't fulfil it. And you know what? They all made other engagements with other people after they had promised me. And I had to hear the news all second-hand.

Am I a non-entity? An invisible person? Someone you can't see? Did you think that it's fine to betray me because I'm a particularly good friend? Did you think that I wasn't worth your company, or you're just pissed at me, or I just annoy you with everything I say?

Farewell, world. Say goodbye to the persona non grata. Adios.

There must be more to life than this.

BUT WHAT THE HELL IS IT THEN?!
My thumbdrive's contents got wiped out by some unknown entity. I can't retrieve a single bloody thing from the fricking thumbdrive.

THAT WAS JUST TWO YEARS OF DEBATE RESEARCH, PICTURES, SCHOOLWORK AND FANFICTION GONE. Just because I didn't fricking KNOW that it was necessary to have a back up copy. And my parents say it's my fault my entire bloody fricking thumbdrive is corrupted.

Damn it. LIFE CAN GO SCREW ITSELF LEFT, RIGHT, CENTRE AND DIAGONALLY TOO IN HELL.
Somehow, there can never be silence.

You know there's always sound -- on a bus, the infernal chatter of the passengers (can't they shut the hell up?!), the engine, the wheels, the other vehicles...

At home, you shut off the aircon. The fan. The television. You unplug your iPod. You mute the laptop. And the radio.

Then you become aware of it -- that sound. That ringing sound, that whiny sound, that high-pitched noise --

You're not imagining it. But people go mad after prolonged exposure to it.

Why we can't we bear the sound of silence?

Is it that hard to sit in silence?
What I am addicted to:
Blogging
Reading (books, fanfiction, newspaper)
Listening to music
Online window shopping
Writing (articles, fanfiction)
NANOWRIMO!!!
The Internet.



Things I wish/will be addicted to:
Manga
Anime
Speaking
Killing Su Xuan

Oh yes. Now I'm in the library, and just because I went to Su Xuan's darling Gavin's blog, she completely CLOSED MY TABS AND THE ENTIRE bloody MOZILLA PAGE. I have indeed, devised an entire list of tortures that I keep handy in my mind so that I may call upon it in times of need (to relieve my brain and so as to occupy myself meaningfully instead of staring at the person's probably fugly face. Lol.

Toodles. A normal me bids you farewell...for now.

Oh yes. And Su Xuan's not speaking to me.

But -- do I actually need acquaintances? No. I shall live in silence. And love it.
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!

NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month. It's a race to reach 50,000 words (novel-length) from the 1st of November to the 30th of November! You can write about anything at all. It can be fantasy/romance/thriller/detective/murder/mystery...Just as long as it's fiction.

I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!
I HAVE JOINED NANOWRIMO!

I'm really very excited to start! Although it's three months away, I've already marked out the weeks in my school diary, and I've started thinking about the plot! But I'll stop there. I want the story to just flow as it will be (NO EDITS) in November.

*bounce bounce* Hahah, I really am excited this time! GOAL: 50,000 WORDS!
As of now I'm a student. A student with a shitload of exams.

But that's not what I want to be now.

The list includes: being a drummer(damned impossible because drumming lessons are denied), martial arts expert (FXCKING IMPOSSIBLE BECAUSE MARTIAL ARTS LESSONS ARE FXCKING WELL FOREVER DENIED), shopper! (not possible, I have no moolah/money/monehh/$/cash...), BIG-TIME HACKER(NOT ONE OF THOSE SCRIPT KIDDIES) BUT...(impossible. I know absolutely nothing about hacking. FXCK...

But still, at the moment, I am still a student who has very, very (damned) limited time on the internet. AND -- the bloody school blocked blogger. Fxck. So I can't surf freely.

And as of now...I STILL have a shitload of exams.

Fxck. Shit. Hell.

FORGET ABOUT LIVING THE WAY YOU WANT TO.
I wonder if it was actually possible to journey to hell, heaven and back. Since I renounced my faith as a Christian on the 3rd of July, I don't know what to believe: whether there's a heaven or a hell. Or whether there's life after death at all. Or whether the life (which a lot of is hell by the way) we are living now is real or not.

Ugh. CTs start tomorrow. Geog and Lang. Somehow I feel oddly detached from this materialistic world, and somehow I cannot bring myself to study. To me, I do not belong in this world...But there is no other one I can inhabit...

It is such a tragedy, that us people who do not like this world and wish to create our own paradise do not have the powers to do so. And the one (whom I used to believe in) who supposedly apparently has the power, leaves the world to rot in it's own fxcking pit of shit. ie, the stench of bastardly acts and inhumane behaviour. The one with the power doesn't care. Right? Fine. Let us stew and rot and die in this fxcking pit of supposed humanity, then. Nothing I can do about it anyway.

(this post has been censored so as not to offend any sensitive eyes)
In sooth I know not why I am so sad.
It wearies me, you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, where of it is born,
I am to learn.
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

-- Antonio, The Merchant Of Venice, William Shakespeare.


This melancholy is not unknown
To either you or me.
But yet knowledge of its origin
Continues to elude me.
I know not its constituents
There be no list of ingredients
And a blinking fool it renders me,
To my own eyes and consideration
But yet, to even myself, my own self
Remains, still, a mystery.

-- Ken Kant.
Just returned from a satisfying ride with my father. Or rather, I cycled and he ran.

Wait. 'You have a bike and know how to use it?' That's probably going through your heads.

Yes, I can ride a bicycle. I learnt before I entered Primary School. I started with a blue tricycle (with four wheels) in kindergarten, progressed to one with two wheels in Primary Two and because it rusted and went kaput (because I had no time to ride it), my father got me a new one...along with a promise that he would take me cycling once a week while he runs(any day that he runs).

So I have a blue and silver machine outside my front door with a nice loud black bell, good shock absorbers, quality gears and cool light reflectors. Oh, and the crossbar bears Raleigh.

You know what?

Liberation is here. Let's go for a joyride, baby.