absolutum dominium

OUCH

I had my wisdom tooth extracted today.

Yes, much to my dismay, my visit to the dentist confirmed the worst of my fear. He took one look at my mouth and said: "You must extract your wisdom tooth."

I said: "But it's growing straight right? It's not going to impact my other teeth. Why should I remove it?"

(Understand that this was one of my many vain attempts to avoid removing my wisdom tooth because I didn't want to go through the procedure of removing it. And my last visit to a dentist + the X-ray taken of my teeth showed that I had a damn nice set of wisdom teeth lah!)

But as the dentist told me, my problem wisdom tooth (I have 2 on the lower side of my jaw) was erupting partially (or 3/4) covered by my gum, as such it had to grow right through my gum to mature. And my upper wisdom tooth (which he says will have to be removed at a later stage) was biting down on that same gum, which was why I had been enduring a bloody toothache for the past few days.

So the procedure was this: he cut through my gum and a part of the bone in my mouth (because my wisdom tooth was also partially obscured by and was growing into that bone) and then extract my wisdom tooth. Before that he gave me 2 jabs of anesthetic into my inner cheek and gum (the needle looks fucking scary!!!) - ouch - to numb both areas, and a third shot to stop the bleeding for a while.

I closed my eyes for the procedure after he took the scapel with the intent to cut open my gum.

The whole thing was over really quickly. Surprise surprise. And my dad, who was waiting for me outside the clinic, brought me back to his office before sending me home so that he could use his computer. He bought me tau huay for lunch too.

Unfortunately, the anesthetic wore off while I was waiting for him. Not good. The bleeding didn't lessen, but increased while I was waiting. Suddenly my gauzes were covered in more blood at I was in an unbearable amount of pain and I couldn't do anything about it. I sat down, stood up, walked around, nothing worked. The dentist had given me 2 kinds of pain killers - panadol and a really strong one called pyrex (or pyrec), but my taking of the panadol didn't seem to help so I gave in and took the pyrex (which has to be taken with antacids otherwise it will cause gastritis).

So my dad finally realised that usually after operations and surgeries and stuff involving anesthetic and resulting pain, the best treatment is to SLEEP IT OFF. ARGH. Why couldn't he had realised tt sooner??? And to think he was still thinking of what holiday packages he could go on while I was damn near rolling around in pain. Bleah.

He drove me home from his office in Tampines, where I promptly just went to my bed and tried to sleep everything off.

Sleep always works. I'm feeling better now. Dinner was porridge. Eating is still one hell of a chore, and the bleeding still persists. But at least the pain is bearable, so that's good.

Gonna remove my stitiches on Monday.

I asked the dentist if I could exercise on Saturday. He said I could. So I will be going for dragonboat training on Saturday and Sunday, and law bash on Saturday night, as planned.

Hmm.

FIRST DRAGONBOAT TRAINING SINCE MARCH

The title sums it up. It's my first water training ever since mid-March. And yes, it damn near killed me.

We started off with this run from SDBA to the Benjamin Sheares Bridge and back. I have NOT run at this pace since God-knows-when. It's not a fast pace; hell it's slower than the normal training pace, and guess what? I was *dying* while running and I took *forever* to recover. And we had to run over the Merdeka Bridge and alongside the Nicoll Highway collapse site... I was feeling kinda creeped out. It's one thing to know it's around, and another thing to know that all that separates you from crevices and mangled steel and death is one thin steel wall.

Anyway after the run, we got into the boat and started rowing. And then it started raining. And I mean heavy heavy rain. We were completely soaked through; the raindrops were big and felt almost painful because of the pressure exerted on my skin. The wind was strong and made me feel really cold. We were rowing to keep warm, but we couldn't row very far because visibility was so low and the lightning streaking across the sky was very worrying.

We ended up taking refuge under the Benjamin Sheares Bridge alongside an Immigration and Checkpoints Authority craft, and just joking while waiting for the rain to end.

All in all the session wasn't as xiong as it should have been because the rain made it difficult for us to train properly. But yet, after training, I was *so* exhausted.

I had to hand in the law bash tickets for this Saturday's bash at Sultans of Swing to the orientation team marketin comm at Orchard at 2pm, and I was just so tired I couldn't really speak without taking deep breaths, which really worries me about what state my (lack of) fitness is in.

On the upside I met some friends that I hadn't seen since the end of exams. Oh, and I got approached again to model in ads, but I turned it down yet again because I don't trust these people (although admittedly the vainity in me does tempt me to say 'what the hell' and take up the offer).

Had lunch at Scotts and went home to crash. Doesn't help that I currently nurse a toothache coz my wisdom teeth are growing up through my gums and the pain is highly distracting. I survived the past 2 days - and training this morning - on pain killers, but I'm beginning to think something is wrong. Gonna go see a dentist tomorrow. But dammit I'm off painkillers tonight because I don't like taking them, and the resulting pain is making me an absolute grouch.

Oh, and I had 4 offers to mambo tonight and I turned all off them down. Am I turning into a good girl or what?

PRIDE VS. GRACE

To everyone who asked me how I was doing and gave me all that encouraging advice, thank you. All is fine now. But if you were wondering, I guess I'll just give you a recap of what happened.

It all started with the trip to Malaysia. Or rather, Malaysia was a trigger for something that had been long in coming. Not that Malaysia wasn't enjoyable, because it was. All the food we ate, from bak kut teh to char kuay teow to really cheap satay to the best chendol in the world; the addventure we had when my uncle's car overheated and broke down and we spent 5 hours on Sunday waiting for a mechanic, waiting for the repair, waiting for the spare parts, and going from kopitiam to kopitiam to lim kopi (drink coffee) to while the time away; esp when the extended family - or rather 12 people - were cracking stupid jokes and laughing our heads off, hell yeah Malaysia was enjoyable. Even though I absolutely hate Malacca.

But at the same time there were hiccups. I was with my aunt and my cousin Denise, who was her daughter. And I was just so amazed by the kind of relationship they had. Daughter could and did tell mother everything. They laughed, they joked - my aunt even cracked REALLY lame jokes, and there was no holding back of anything at all. Denise said that if she was ever unhappy about anything - even the actions of her parents, she would never hesitate to tell them because she felt that they had a right to know. And I was just feeling so envious. Because I didn't have that same kind of relationship with my mom. In fact, I probably spoke more to my aunt than I did my mom that entire trip. And my mom ddn't have a sense of humour either. Furthermore, on Saturday my mom got really upset with me for falling asleep in church, which began yet another Cold War between the both of us. And we've had so many Cold Wars that it's just so normal now, and then a few days later everything is back to normal. But it's just so ridiculous, how you can have a relationship like that.

I'd always prided myself on being a communicator. I'm not confrontational, mind you, but I believe in being able to be frank and direct with the people close to me. How bitterly ironic it was that I was that damn lousy with a person who should have been the closest to me, and a person whom I loved most of all.

Maybe it was finally a wake-up call, and my dad prompting me to write what I feel down to her in a letter, that finally made me give that letter to her, the one telling her how I felt. All these years of silence, of hiding, of not bothering; to be broken in 3 pages of writing.

It wasn't easy. As I wrote the letter I discovered exactly how similar me and my mom were. As my dad later told me, I'm almost an exact replica of her. It struck me as painful, the irony of things. How both me and my mom are very sensitive people. We feel easily, deeply, and therefore we hurt very easily. I remember how sensitive I was when I was younger. But in order to stop ourselves from hurting too much, we build up walls to protect ourselves from this hurt, and we rarely let people through them.

The irony here, was that both me and my mom built up such walls - against each other. It was a vicious cycle; at this point in time I was keeping it all inside, because I knew that if I told her anything, she'd say things that would hurt me. Because she's always been sarcastic/caustic (like me, except to a greater extent), and even though I wished I could desensitize myself from the effect of such words, they manage to hurt me everytime. So I closed myself off from her. But at the same time, my closing myself off from her hurt her a lot, so she reinforced her walls against me by saying things which were even more sarcastic and caustic than before.

In the end you had 2 idiots pretending that they were totally unaffected by each other, even when they really were.

It became a matter of pride vs. grace. Mich introduced me to that concept when she made an apology to someone whom had wronged her and hurt her badly. And at that time I was a complete bitch. I thought that she had been stupid, to humble herself, to open up herself to attack, by apologising for something which she had not been in the wrong for. If anything, the other party should have apologized to her for hurting her so much. I told her that. In very crude terms, I'd told her that I would never have done such a thing because my pride would be at stake.

By nature I've rarely ever forsaken my pride for anyone or anything. It's my wall, my protective shield, something which is truly important to me. I'd only forsaken it once in the recent past, and I'd been so badly burnt I'd sworn I would never do so again.

But then she said that sometimes, grace matters more than pride. Sometimes you just have to let go a little of that pride of yours, bite the bullet, and just do it. Do something against your pride, to regain a sense of peace.

It worked for her. She regained a peace that she lost. But I didn't understand it then.

I understand it now though. Last week for the first in a long time I allowed grace to win over pride, and I won back a friendship I thought I had lost. And on Sunday night when I came back from Malaysia I let it triumph over pride again, to regain back the person dearest to me.

She didn't speak to me for 2 days after she got the letter. She left for work before I wake up, locked her bedroom door before I came back at night.

But yesterday night we sat down, and with my dad as the great mediator, thrased things - and each other out.

Obviously it was tiring. A lot of things were said, some good, some not-so-good, some outright pain-inducing. But at the end of it, we came to an understanding, we made mutual promises... And I won my mother back.

I'm glad it happened. It's been too long - years - literally years since we last connected. I don't know if we ever really did, or whether I was just in the habit of agreeing with her whether I liked to or not. I'm so glad that I decided to take that leap of faith. I cannot believe I would be able to live with myself if I'd just let this excuse of a status quo persist because I refused to let a little pride go.

It's like a load off my chest now. Somehow the home seems brighter and more open. My mom and I are just comfortable with each other; once we finally let the walls down a little.

Just want to say: I love you mom.

Dearest Mom,

I know this letter will be a shock to you, but I think it's been long in coming. You've been a wonderful mother to me all these years. You've watched me grow from young, and since then you've done everything that you possibly could for me. You do all you can to ensure my comfort, to ensure my safety; whatever I want to eat, you cook it for me, wherever I need to go, you fetch me there. You've been my disciplinarian when I've gone astray, you've been my teacher when I needed one, you've been fighting to protect me and keep me safe all my life.

And I love you mom. I appreciate all that you've done for me, and I know that you really love me too.

But after years of silence, I can't stay silent anymore. Even though you've provided for me materially, I don't feel that we have a real mother-daughter relationship. We cannot communicate. I remember when I was young; you would scold me and teach me your values such that I would grow up good. But even when I started developing as an individual and forming my own ideas, you couldn't seem to let go. You continued trying to impose your own values and ideas on me. You could never see things from a different perspective, let alone my point of view. All your life you've always been right, and you could never accept any other arrangement.

But the truth is mom, that I cannot be like you. And I've tried, to God I've tried. You're the woman I admire most in the whole world. I admire your strength, your resilience, your tenacity, your discipline and your sheer will-power. I want to be like you; tolerant of pain, a survivor of all crises and turmoil, no matter the emotional scars, a juggler of all priorities - both a successful career woman and an amazing wife and mother -, physically and mentally strong even at your age, able to take anything and everything in your stride... in short, a fighter.

I want to be like you mom, but I can't. Because I'm not like you. I don't have your kind of strength, resilience or discipline. I crumble. I don't have your sense of practicality. I don't like to think in the long-term or of the consequences. I don't aspire to be a 'successful career woman' making a lot of money. I don't wish to be a fantastic cook and the perfect wife and mother. I don't want to trade my taekwondo for tennis or golf simply because they make more sense in the business-aspect, no matter how useless taekwondo, or dragonboat, is to you for that matter.

I wish I could tell you my hopes and dreams. I wish I could talk to you about my life the way I do dad. But I can't. I've tried. And everytime, everything I do and am just isn't good enough for you. I'm always wasting my life away. When I take up activities which I want to do, you say I'm abusing my body. When I go out often, you say I treat the home as a hotel and that I don't respect you. You want me to be fillial to you, but you never seem to notice when I try. When I stay home to accompany you for dinner, when I come down to help you in the kitchen, when I accompany you on your long walks even though I would rather be elsewhere, when I go on trips with you to Malacca even though I hate the place to death, when I ask how your day is and how you are doing, or even when I help you use the computer even when I have a lot of work to do, you just don't seem to see it.

Somehow everything I do just isn't good enough for you. I will never be the perfect daughter. Because I'm not domestic. Because I'm not soft or feminine. Because I'd rather play violent video games or watch wrestling than family dramas. Because I'd much rather sleep at home than shop. Because I don't pray as hard as you. Because I question aspects of my faith instead of accepting it wholeheartedly. Because I can't stop myself from falling asleep in church. Because I always never seem to apologize whenever you scold me.

Do you really think I'm emotionless? That it doesn't hurt? I wish I could explain things to you. Let you see things from my side of the story, from my point of view. I've tried, but every single time you discourage me, you belittle everything I hold precious to me, you shoot me down in the name of bitter reality. That's why I've stopped bothering. That's why I'd rather stay silent than argue with you or defend myself whenever you accuse me. It's not an admission or guilt, nor is it an act of defiance. It's resignation, because at the end of the day, you will never be anything but right and I might as well not try.

But can't you see? Your pride, your need to be right, the way you force your own views on me all the time, the way you just can't seem to accept my views and respect me as an individual; they've all taken a toll on our relationship. What we have now is simply a mockery of a mother-daughter relationship. On the surface you're the perfect mother and I'm the perfect daughter, but we don't communicate. Dad is the middle-man for all our communications. I can always confide in him but never in you. You think you know me inside out, but all you know of me is what I was 6 to 7 years ago, and not what I am now.

I'm writing this letter to you in an effort to save the relationship. I don't want this anymore. I want more than that. I want a real mother-daughter relationship, where I can actually communicate with you, where we can trade jokes, laugh, just talk about life and hopes and dreams and aspirations. Where you will stop trying to mold me into another you and accept me for who I am, and try to understand where I am coming from and my reasons for why I do what I do. I know this letter will not be an easy one to take, and I'm sorry it has to come to this.

I hope that this will actually allow you to see and hear about who I am for the first time. I hope that we can actually sit down and talk about this for once. I hope that your love for me will allow you to put aside your pride and that great hard wall that you hide behind, and actually hear me out. It's a huge gamble and it may not work. But I pray to God that it will. I want my mother back.

I await your answer.

Love always,

your daughter Isobel

BEST WEEK OF MY HOLIDAYS!!!

Hey, I guess I didn't update you guys (or whoever I think reads this blog) on what's been going on since Monday, so I figured I would. Starting with Tues and onwards...

Be jealous. Be very jealous. *evil grin*

Update #1: Tuesday - 1ST DRAGONBOAT TRAINING

I haven't trained since early March. I was hoping (and wishing and praying) that my return to training wouldn't involve a 10km run, or a 3.2km run through the Central Library slope, or worse, a 2km run up the SDE/Admin slopes at a ridiculous pace. Thankfully, my hopes weren't disappointed.

Our run was replaced with:

1. 3 sets of 20 dips

2. 50 step-ups

3. 3 sets of 15 burpies (how do you spell them???)

4. 2 sets of 30 sit-ups

5. 3 sets of 20 push-ups

6. 100 jumping jacks

7. 1.2km jog on the track

...Trust me, it was still better than the run. Barely, considering my state of (un)fitness, but better. We hit the gym after that for some conditioning (which mean an easier, less stressful time with lighter weights according to my preference [although I STILL woke up the next morning with aching neck, back and shoulder muscles]), and then it was over to the rowing machines at the squash courts [which I had mistaken for huge vacuum cleaners] for some 'rowing experience'. Right. The 1 minute was fun in the beginning but the last 20 seconds consisted of me screaming mentally at my arms to *pull* while my captain kept going 'focus, focus'...

After training was the NUS 'Grand Sports Dinner' by the poolside, this annual dinner 'party' (right) thingie that the school organises to 'recognise' its athletes and present Colour Awards to them. Anyway my captain Serene and two of my seniors Boon Chin and Irene (if you want to know, she's the one in our team who looks like a supermodel :) ) were receiving colour awards, and since the dinner was just after our training, and the food was FREE, we all decided to make it a team outing.

We'd finished bathing half an hour before the dinner so we decided to have a 'lui dou tang' gathering before dinner. So you literally have a team of 13 girls sitting around at Linger Cafe drinking green bean soup. It is quite a fascinating sight in my opinion.

We were also the first through the gates to get the tables nearest to the buffet food (and furthest away from the grandstand).

We were also the only team (besides our brother dragonboat team and the canoeing sub-club) to go for the food once dinner started.

We were also the only team to pile up our plates with food - so that we could gather at our table - in which we had squeezed all 13 people - and eat our Chinese dinner style. Which means a bunch of us were waiting for everyone to be present before we started the meal, even as everyone else was eating. And as our table was filled to the edges with a lot of food, a lot of staring and open-mouthed faces could be seen as people walked by our table.

And when my teammates received their prizes, we were the only ones to stand and cheer amidst an otherwise lacklustre crowd.

I guess we're damn extra. Most people look at us and think we're nuts. But then again I've already conceded that. Girls who join dragonboat are nuts after all.

But we don't care. And that's what I love about my girls. :)

Just a small note: faking an accent doesn't make you cool. If it's genuine, it's totally understandable. But going around pretending and using a fake accent, esp on us, really doesn't work. Coz we don't think that's cool. We just think that, and you, are fucking pretentious. And we have a laugh about it.

Peace.

Update #2: Wednesday to Friday - WISHING YOU WERE THERE!!!

There being the NUS Sea Sports Camp, which I just came back from today. If you're not among the 120 people in there, and you've never tried any of the sports, then altogether now... AWWWWW.

Because in 3 days and 2 nights, I got a crash course in sailing, windsurfing, wakeboarding and canoeing.

I attended the camp with 10 of my teammates, which pretty much made it a dragonboat outing. In fact, we dominated the group we were in (i.e. 11 out of 40 people), and we puzzled/intrigued/amused/irritated the other people with our crazy spirit, our exclusive cohesion, and our non-sequitors.

WEDNESDAY

On the first day, we did sailing. We didn't really get that much water time because there were only 10 topper boats available at one time, but it was still pretty fun learning to steer and manouever a boat on your own. Admittedly I didn't go very far out, and I couldn't seem to go very fast either, but I thought I did pretty ok. For one, I didn't capsize, unlike a few of my teammates (haha... that was a riot). I didn't get hit in the head by the boom (ok. 2 times, but those were light taps coz the sail was really close to me so the wind could not move the boom much), unlike a few people who got so caught unawares that it whacked them right into the water. Ooh, and I saw Debbie too, but she came a little too late to be my instructor. :( After that my teammates and I fooled around with the gym and the aerobics studio where we supposed to wait, and kept munching on the jellies provided. I think that was the first sign to everyone around that we're real food monsters. Okay, that we're just REAL MONSTERS. We ended the night by playing bridge (me) and uno stacko. And no one wants to play bridge with me anymore coz whenever I get super-lousy cards, I utilise my 'will not go down without dragging someone under with me theory'. *evil grin*

I also received an SMS in reply to an email I had sent out. And I've never felt so vindicated in such a long long time. Thank you so much.

THURSDAY

On the second day, we did windsurfing and wakeboarding. Winsdsurfing was so so so cool! It was pretty difficult in the beginning because getting your balance on the board is a bitch. A real absolute bitch. I kept falling off so many times. The first time I was supposed to make 2 complete turns on the board, I fell off at the 3/4 mark. I fell off 3 times trying to pull up my sail I fell off while trying to secure it. I fell off while trying to get into a ready position. Sometimes the sail fell on top of me. So you can roughly guess how much fucking sea water I drank. In fact, my nose and ears were clogged up with sea water too. I also got stung by a jellyfish coz the area was crawling with them. Fortunately I just brushed against it, so it wasn't as painful as if the thing had come barreling into my body or soemthing.

However, these minus points were more than made up for. Firstly, I FINALLY learnt how to windsurf! Okay, so I can't travel far, but YES, I can stand and travel and turn. Not steady though. Secondly, I had an eye-candy instructor! He's really hot. He looks about 25/26, Eurasian (not pure Chinese), model looks, nice hair, eyes and tan, and really hot bod. Esp in the berms. *grrrrowl* :) Everytime I looked unsure, I had someone to look at. Everytime I fell off the board, I had someone to look at to make me feel better. And the best thing was that he was SO nice. He was really friendly and patient. He kept telling me I was doing well even when I KNEW I was doing a crap job of staying on top of the board, and he held the board steady, and he was concerned about the jellyfish, etc etc etc. And he allowed me and Wendy to surf for as long as we possibly could even when the next group was supposed to take over from us. *sigh* Such a plus point, right Melissa? And IMHO he's even cuter than your eye-candy sailing instructor. :) But then again I might be biased.

After that we played a little Ultimate Frisbee to kill time. Ooh, Albert was there. Frisbee can be fun, but haha... I was feeling like a damn lazy dog after Windsurfing so I didn't play all that much.

We headed over to Punggol for Wakeboarding after lunch. This is what I want to say about it:

WAKEBOARDING IS ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY COOL!!!!!!!!!

Oh man. 4 people to a boat with 3 hours. The first 10 minutes I spent all my time struggling to stand up. It was so tough. I'd get to a stooped position and get pulled forward by the boat, resulting me falling flat on my face into the water... again and again and again and again. It was like this one scene of falling in a repeat mode. And then the uncle would drive the boat around, throw me the rope, and I'd try to stand... and fall flat on my face again.

But when it came to my turn the second round, I told myself I'd board a distance before my turn was over. I could stand on the second try. And by the end of my turn I COULD board. And it is an absolutely surreal feeling, to feel yourself gliding across - literally riding the waves, at such a high speed and feeling the wind all in your face and the the water at your feet and the world just zooming past. And you're out there, you're just in control and ruling the waves.

Until you trip over a large wave and fall of course, which is what ended my ride. I obviously haven't learnt to jump yet. But I'm hoping that by the end of this holiday, I will. So calling all blog-reading wakeboarding enthusiasts: if you're looking for khakis, you've got one here. With possibly good deals at Raffles and Punggol Marina respectively if that may entice you.

The sun was up and shining when we began the session, but by the time we'd finished the sky was fucking black. I haven't felt real fear for quite some time. But as we were racing back from wherever we were past Tekong (I think) on a small boat, speeding - not for the thrill of it but for real urgency - and cutting through the choppy waters, as lightning kept striking to the right and the left of our sea, and the rain pouring down on us, I wondered what it would be like to just die on the boat. And I know it sounds morbid (but if you know me in person you'll know I've always been morbid), but I didn't want to die then. Not that I fear death, although admittedly I do, but because I wasn't ready to die. Things have started going so well for me. For once my calender is packed. For once I feel like I have friends around me. For once I'm happy with my family. For once a friendship has been restored. For once I'm experiencing things I've always wanted to experience. And because I'm not done with this yet, because there are still all these friend I want to see again and tell them I cherish them, for once I want to spend time with my parents and show them I really love them, for once I want to really ensure that my restored friendship is back to what it once was, and because there are STILL so many more things out there that I want to do, I can't die.

Well, obviously I didn't. But it was a scary experience nonetheless.

And I had to shower in the guys' changing room at the club coz the queue for the girls' shower was way too long. And I have one thing to say about that: I don't get it. How can you just shower in a place where everyone's everything can be seen???

Ok. End of social commentary.

The rest of the night we just had a barbeque (in which my teammates tried to do pull-ups and arm-wrestle each other... I think some of the members in my group may not like us coz they think we're too extra. But oh well, I'll just say 'fuck off' to that. :) ), tried to watch the OC but some people were trying to get to sleep so I gave up, and just lazed around in my comfy sleeping bag till I K.Oed.

FRIDAY

On the third day we did canoeing. Okay, I used to think canoeing was fun.

NOT ANYMORE.

I think it's because when you're trained in dragonboat to use a different set of muscles and a different technique to row, it's very tough to switch back to a canoeing technique. Especially if like me, you haven't touched a canoe since June last year!!!

So the 'mini-expedition to Gay Beach' was a mini-nightmare for me and Angeline, who was my partner. She didn't know how to steer so I had to be the rudder, and I was really rusty after such an absence from the sport. Plus the current was against us; as we were both right-rowers we kept exerting more power on our right stroke as compared to our left such that the canoe kept turning in one direction, and our canoe was weighed down with so much water that according to the members of the canoe sub-club who were paddling with us, it was literally 'an aquarium', paddling to Gay Beach and back was a horror.

Fortunately we had this really nice guy from canoeing who was the only one who took the trouble to stay with us even when the others just left us behind to fend for ourselves between the ships and the current, who tried to teach us how to paddle without exerting the strength from our biceps (which is what we had both been doing to the extent that we were exhausted and Angeline had cramps in her left arm), and was all-in-all really really sweet to us. :) Without him I think we might have died (okay, I'm exaggerating).

But trust me it was still hell. We were exhausted, I was bitching on my way back, Angeline was actually cursing, and everytime I had to steer the boat I used an insane amount of energry and my oar kept whacking her in the head accidentally such that she believes she'll have a concussion tomorrow, and at one point we even tried rowing dragonboat style (me left; she right), to get the damn thing to MOVE, but since my left arm wasn't as strong as our right, it didn't work coz the canoe would still turn in only 1 direction. Let me tell you boy oh boy were we ever so grateful to get back to land again.

After finally keeping the canoes at SDBA 3 of us, me, Vic and Serene, decided to be hao lian + ultra kiasu and did a 'cool-down' jog to the Stadium to bathe. So we got the best shower cubicles and we didn't have to wait. But as I was packing my stuff after my shower I got fixed with this Look from one of the girls in my group (what a bitch), so I decided to avoid trouble and leave the changing room 1st.

We broke camp once everyone in the group was back. We'd decided to go Kenny Rogers at Suntec for lunch. Now that Nicoll Highway is closed the ONLY that comes to Kallang now is 16, at it takes fucking long to get from Kallang to City Hall. And trust me walking to Kenny Rogers dragging all your barang barang - your huge haversack, shoe bag and sleeping bag that all-in-all feel like they weigh a fucking ton, is no joke. And man, we ate A LOT at Kenny Rogers. I actually cleaned all the food off my plate, and you know Kenny Rogers' serving sizes are impossible.

But yep, I'm back at home now. Going to rest before I leave for Malaysia for the weekend with my family (and extended family) to celebrate the dad's birthday. I'm dog-tired, I need sleep and I'm suffering from 'cooked prawned syndrome'. Aka I'm so fucking sun burnt from all 3 days in the burning sun that I literally am the same colour as a prawn, from my face to my arms, legs, feet, back and even the back of my hands. I even have a sandal tan line!

Haha. But the camp was SUCH a blast! Don't you just wish you had been there? Only thing is that this holiday, I want to take up a proper windsurfing course and improve on my wakeboarding too. And I don't know how that's going to fit into my schedule with my taekwondo, dance, training and orientation stuff.

Ugh.

"IF NOT ME, THEN WHO?"

- My brother.

why do i think about an idealistic and independent and strong girl who is all about surviving in this fucked up world like me when i think about you ?

who keeps on trying despite the mistakes and never gives up on herself ?

it is not an excuse sis ....

if i can see you as that, so can all the others

it is not about how others see you but how you see yourself.

be what you want and screw the others

no point hating yourself / being angry with yourself too

unless it makes you CHANGE ... and for the better, i add.

you are one of the most morally strong girl i know,

serious ... and still are. it is not about the mistakes we make ...

but how we think, what we try to adhere to inside our hearts

people look at me and - oh what a guai boy

i smoked

i drank

"DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME
I MEAN
YOU'RE ALREADY THE VOICE INSIDE MY HEAD"

Disclaimer: The title has no co-relation to my entry. It's just a song that's been playing in my head.

I'd intended to sleep early last night. Planned in crawl into bed at 12am so that I could wake up bright and early for another long run. Mich called me at 12am though.

And we talked till 6am.

I've never spoken to anyone for more than 3 hours. I don't know what kind of phonecall marathon this counts for, coz after the call both my ears felt blocked up.

But the call was worth it. After months of not talking to her, a year of not seeing her, and with the recent fuck-up, it cleared everything up. Even though there was just so much to update, it felt as though we'd just spoken to each other a few days back. And got to know each other a lot better than before.

I guess it's true that conflicts may strengthen a friendship, once they are allowed to be straightened out. I feel like we know each other even better now, that we learn from each other with each episode, that there's something that we discover about ourselves that can be improved. But it's all in a good way.

Once again, she gives good advice. It's true she does get naggy like a surrogate mom, but she does give solid advice. And she's willing to listen to what I have to say. I may not be that experienced or that smart or that world-wisely, but my opinions are accorded equal respect in spite of it all.

If only we hadn't waited till now to talk things out. Maybe a bit more sadness may have been averted.

But I guess better late than never.

As for other things, leave them to Him. I want it badly, and if I pray to Him to help me enough, to give me the wisdom or present the right opportunities to me, maybe I will be able to find what I need.

So this morning I had about 3 hours of sleep. Went to meet cousin Jo at Plaza Sing to keep our date of '50 First Dates'. At the same time managed to run my errands like get my sleeping bag (yes! finally!) and get down to YMCA to check out the dance classes. Right now my heart's set on Salsa L.A. Style coz it's taught by Lionel Araya, and he's a fantastic teacher. I learnt Funk from him back when he was in Jitterbugs, and not only are the moves that he teaches really nice - and unique; old school '80s funk style -, but he teaches the classes in such a way that makes it really fun, plus easy to get the steps. Only thing is I don't know if this class will clash with my schedule. It already seems like it is.

Salsa is currently the dance style I want to pick up the most, but for some reason classes ALWAYS seem to be on Wed night, which is the night I have my Taekwondo classes. It's infuriating coz I've cleckled out 3 dance schools prior to YMCA. But I guess dance isn't a top priority now. Right now I'm trying to fit Taekwondo in with dragonboat training. Wednesday is going to be burn-out day: water training in the morning and taekwondo at night. Only if I can take the stress, then I'll bring dance in on another night. But I guess I can always compromise. If I can't get the Salsa class I can settle for Street Jazz or Hip-hop (again). In any case I've have 3 months to work a plan out.

We got back in time to get popcorn, a coffee milkshake for me from Mos Burger, and to catch the movie. OOH! Shrek 2 is coming out May 21st! I made another date with Jo; we're going to catch it together *blatantly excited*!

As for the movie... argh. As everyone else says... it's good. It's damn good. I'm not going to say that much, but it is romantic. I still can't get over how Adam Sandler's character (Henry Roth) can take the trouble to make Drew Barrymore's character (Lucy Whitmore) fall in love with him again and again, day after day, without fail. I cannot imagine the kind of love and sacrifice that, and the extents that the father and the brother go to, to keep Lucy blissfully happy. I was so affected at the scene in the studio when Henry's face was in every single picture done on every single medium in every single possible style that could be shown on the screen (esp the egghead one). It's just so sweet. Such a sweet movie. Both Jo and I felt exactly the same way at the end.

From P.S. we went to Wisma to get my lousy excuse of a phone repaired, Kino to get comics (she's a Sandman fan) - I bought a The Darkness collected edition paperback, even though my entire comic collection had been wiped out by the Mom last sem. Decided that I will use this hol to go back to drawing and sketching again, and I need comics to help me start somewhere -; and then to Taka foodcourt for lunch proper.

Okay, I ordered some funny Japanese rice thingie wrapped in omelette that sucked (damn! I KNEW I should have stuck to kway chap), she ordered sushi, and I had barley with gingko nuts (okay okay. It's a dessert. No more for the rest of this week).

We walked around after that because I wanted to get my dad's birthday present. Unfortunately The Oaks only sold wines, and a good wine can set me back a couple of hundred (waaay over my range especially with the way I've been spending my money), so I've decided to get the present tomorrow from Citilink. I figured that a Cuban cigar - maybe a torpedo or something - should be pretty good. The price caps at $55 for a top-quality stick (which he probably won't be able to take anyway since he's not that big a cigar-smoker), so it's pretty much in my price range. And I bet that would make him pretty happy.

Of course. After all the vices are always what make us the happiest, aren't they?

Walked around for a bit more, but I guess the sheer lack of sleep was coming back to haunt me, because I began stoning and phasing out. So that was it, I had to go home.

Just in time too anyway, coz my mom was waiting for me to go out for dinner. DINNER?!

Ugh. The char kway teow, chye tau kuey and chee kueh at Jurong Kechil are good. But I'm DAMN full now lah.

Going to sleep early tonight. Got America's Next Top Model but I think I'm too sleepy to watch.

Long day tomorrow.

And the day after.

And the day after that.

"LATER, SHALL LAH, SHOULD BE."

(or something along those lines.

Forgive me lah; it was somewhere between 4 and 5 am!)

In dedication of 6-hour phonecall marathons and close friends.

With love.

IT ENDS NOW

Okay, that is IT. Today's the LAST time I'm going to stop and walk on a 10km run (which I did not just once, but MULTIPLE times).

I cannot go on like this. All the lack of exercise, and all the poison I've been putting into my body, it stops now.

No more alcohol consumption, no more liver cirrosis. No more ice-cream, cream, oil, chilli, coconut milk, no more heart burn. From now till June 18, no more calamari fritti, tempura, KFC, coffee, chocolate, or cheesecake.

No more seeing the fats on my thighs jiggle as I run (or try to). No more feeling that pain in my chest with every gasp of breath I take.

How can I? How can I consider myself a dragonboater, part of the team, when I'm such a useless excuse? I cannot allow myself to be a liability, to drag the whole team down during the race, because I lacked the fucking DISCIPLINE to take care of my health.

Too much damage has already been done. I have to reverse this before all of a year's hard work is wasted. I have to get back to my optimal fitness. The running, the strength training, the endurance, the mental.

I have to train hard and intense again.

I have to stop putting poison into my body.

I have to DISCIPLINE myself.

It will be hard, but it will be done.

I have to.

I MUST be as good a rower as I can possibly be by June 18.

A DREAM

I dream a lot. Hell, I dream every night. Most of the time it's either weird dreams or nightmares, and the best (or worst) thing about them, is that I never remember what they are when I wake up in the morning.

I had a dream on Friday night, that was neither a weird dream/nightmare, nor a dream I forgot.

I don't know why I had it. Dreams usually are a part of your sub-conscious. Me, I never fully rest, even when I sleep. But considering that I hadn't been considering the subject matter since the exams started, it came as more of a surprise. Especially as it had been so real that I had actually though it a real event.

I was queueing up to pay for something. Okay, the whole faculty had to pay $18 to some cashier behind a counter of bars (the steel pole type that you see on old jail cells and pawnshop windows), and I was behind this guy wearing a black shirt with white stripes (same as Daryl's shirt on Wed, but diff guy). He paid exact. I changed a $50.

Then he turned around and told me that he had something to say. Broached a topic that I'd been wanting to broach for so long but had not.

There were mutual apologies; we talked, and after so many months, we finally cleared the matter. There was closure. We were on good terms again, at a common understanding. More than what I could have asked for.

But then my dream ended suddenly coz my fucking alarm clock decided to wake me up.

That was one of the few dreams I ever regretted waking up from.

When suddenly your problems are solved for you, and then you wake up to reality finding out that nothing has changed.

P.S. Totally unrelated note. Forgive me, I'm still trying to tweak around with the colours.

POST-EXAM (FOOD) THERAPY

The past two days have been the life.

- Friday -

Slacking, sleeping, lazing and waking up only for good food. That pretty much summed up my day.

But you wouldn’t want to hear about how good my bed feels right? I bet what you’d want to hear, is what constitutes good food.

Or rather, good Italian cuisine.

Mom, dad and me. La Cantina Ristorante.

Antipasti #1: a plate of calamari fritti. Where the squid is done just right, and I mean just right. Cooked, but soft, not dry, tough or rubbery. Melts in your mouth. The batter is soft. You taste the crispiness, but it’s neither overbearing nor spoils the bite of the squid. And there’s enough salt, such that dipping it into the slightly sour, tangy tomato/paprika dip perfects the entire taste.

Antipasti #2: a bowl of vongole stewed in white wine sauce with garlic. The clams absorb the white wine and garlic, such that sucking them from their shell allows you to taste both the sweetness of the wine and the garlic, the slight saltiness of the clam, and finally the hint of alcohol at the end. Delish.

Antipasti #3: Sauteed mushrooms. Pan-fried with white wine and olives in olive oil. Strong taste of the olives in the mushrooms. Unfortunately not my cup of tea.

In addition: fresh soft white bread, dipped in olive oil. Interestingly I also tasted a hint of white wine, which I suspect came from the olive oil. But the bread was warm and could be torn apart easily. There was just a hint of sweetness, but it as otherwise plain. And very fluffy.

My main course: fettucine with porcini mushrooms. It was a pasta with a cream sauce – and yes, I’m still on my very Singaporean hunt to discover the best cream pasta in Singapore. So far I would give a thumb up to the smoked salmon pasta and Borders Bistro, and the mushroom ham pasta in Café Cartel on the occasions when it’s actually done right, but I STILL haven’t discovered my dream carbonara. Anyway what’s good about this pasta is that the cream is just right, it’s not too rich, but it coats the pasta. Note: fettucine is still one of the best pastas to go with cream sauces because of the way it can be coated – bigger surface area, such that you can taste the thick saltiness of the cream. Anyway in this restaurant, white wine is used in everything, and even a hint of it is present to give some sweetness to the sauce. Olive oil is used too of course, but the good thing is that it’s used sparingly so that the sauce glides over the pasta, but you don’t feel like you’re eating oil (which was what fucked up my last cream pasta at Cartel). The pasta itself is also very important. I’ve tasted both undercooked (superhard/tough) and overcooked (disgustingly soft/soggy) pastas, but this was just perfect. I don’t know how the chef does it (that’s why he’s a chef and I’m not), but the texture is balanced in the middle of both. It’s not floury or anything, and it’s not too heavy. Lastly, there was a generous serving of mushrooms. Porcini mushrooms are bigger than normal button mushrooms (though not as big as portebello), and you can taste the mushrooms very clearly when you bite into them. You know they’re good quality mushrooms coz you can taste that mushroom-y taste (as compared to cheaper pastas). But unfortunately for me, I haven’t learnt to appreciate really good mushrooms yet.

My father had a linguine with crabmeat in a creamy tomato sauce (also very good. I’ll write about it when I taste it myself), while my mom had sauteed pan-fried pork wrapped in parma ham, with potatoes (very nice ones at that on the side).

The dessert of tiramisu came in a bowl; the bottom consisted of sponge fingers soaked in kahlua, with mascarpone cheese in the middle, and cocoa sprinklings on the top. It was good, but honestly, it’s not the best I’ve tasted. It’s pretty average to me. But then again generally most good tiramisus taste about the same to me. They were pretty generous with the mascarpone cheese though.

The service was pretty good (depending on which waiters you got). But a good waiter will recommend good dishes, be ready to meet your requests, answer your questions, and recommend the really good wines. But note: be prepared to spend. A good small bottle of wine may the equivalent of 2 main courses.

But trust me, it’s all worth the price. Besides *evil grin*, the dad treated us. Called it the post-exam “little (spoilt) princess” is home again” kinda celebration.

- Saturday –

I moved out of hall today.

I thought it would take me two days. It took me a little more than two hours.

You can’t believe the amount of stuff I had in my room. I thought it was a lot. It took *2* cars to move all my stuff back. My dad was watching as I loaded item after item into his car and he went from helpful to amused to bemused to pretty damn worried and his boot and main carriage just piled up with all my junk.

It came to the point where he was asking if I needed a van or something.

And it was so tiring coz I made the stupid mistake of packing *all* my Law books into ONE box. Trying to carry them down the stairs from my room to the car was sheer hell. I had to stop 3 times. And after that I was so exhausted. When I had to move my stuff from the car to my room I had to keep taking sugared drinks and snacks to somehow combat the sheer inertia. And my parents had squibble over my Ikea table. Living in a house with 2 Taurases is a very fascinating experience. You should try it sometime. J

I can’t believe how fast the process took. How I managed to strip my room from something I called my own, even though it wasn’t the most homey, the most comfortably-furnished, the most clean, the most new, but yet was something that was *me*; into something totally different. The way it was, bare and grey. Just like the first day I moved in.

I don’t think about it much, the memories that room held for me. I’m not that sentimental a person. Have always considered myself more detached than most. But yet the room has, for a period of time, been everything to me. It’s been alternately, my refuge, my prison, my sanctuary. It’s what I’ve run to when I want to get away from it all, my parents, my peers, my troubles. Where I find my freedom, my time, my own personal SPACE. Yet within it’s four walls I’ve felt loneliness, solitude, utter despair, self-loathing, disappointment, self-anger, everything.

It’s been my comfort. The morning when I walked through the door and I’d never felt happier to be in a place that was all just mind. Yet sometimes on Sunday nights I dread going back to my (so-called) “military barracks”, where away from the luxury of home.

Today, within the space of two hours, I gave up that personal space. My refuge and prison. Today, I gave up a place that was like me, a contradiction.

But today, I’m really and truly at home now. My home.

I stopped packing around 6.15pm. Got ready to meet Ian for dinner. The plan was dinner and a movie, since my parents had a dinner to attend themselves. So I decided to leave the whole dinner plan in his hands since he’d be happier that way, plus he knew his food better.

We went to Geylang Lorong 8 to eat the beef kuay teow there. Which is as good as he says it is. It’s hor fan style, with a sauce that’s thick, but not overly-starchy. The taste of the beef stock is strong and gives it a robust salty flavour. Goes very well with the kuay teow. They’re also generous with the beef, which is really soft because meat tenderizer was used (but I guess when you eat out you can’t complain). If I had any qualms, it was only with the price. And the fact that Geylang at night means you can’t walk around without walking past girls wearing next to nothing, sex shops, Thai workers (male, female and possible in-between), and old men leering at you. But it was good. I’ve never actually eaten at Geylang before, so I was pretty happy with the experience. We wanted to look for the tau huay, but we couldn’t find it though. But the next time I want to try to frog porridge at Lorong 3!!!

We gave up looking for the tau huay (partly coz it looked like a lost cause, partly because of the heat, and partly because too many men were leering) and decided to get to the movie part. Ended up at Cineleisure. Both of us wanted to catch Walking Tall because we’re both die-hard wrestling fans and it still seems like no one else apart from us will watch a movie with The Rock in it (why why why???). Unfortunately the earliest movie slot they had was a 2.05 am, so we had to change our plans. It was either Zatoishi, Elephant, Starsky and Hutch or Win a Date With Tad Hamilton at 11.15pm. I wanted a light-hearted movie (otherwise I’d watch Elephant), so we chose that ‘Tad Hamilton’ cheesy flick.

With over an hour to spare, we headed over to Marche where I introduced him to Erdinger and ice-cream. (Becks does not constitute a German beer. Beck does not at least, constitute a good German beer). What I love about Erdingers is the head. Tonight it wasn’t done well at Marche coz I got a fucking small glass WITH ICE to drink the beer with, which fucking ruined the taste (wasted my $10!!!). And I couldn’t gulp the beer with the glass. I kept *sipping* out of instinct because of the glass, which is a ridiculously sissy way to drink beer. But he did concede that the beer was damn good. Even with the sissy glass and ice.

But I love it when they pour it slowly down the side of a proper beer glass, so that a really thick foamy head forms at the top. That’s the part I love to sip. Tonight it was a strange combination with ice-cream, but I guess it’s true that you can drink beer with almost anything. So we chatted till about 10.45pm, then made our way back to Cineleisure, where the crowd is an absolute killer, bought mixed popcorn (once again, am I the ONLY person in the world who takes it salty???) and went in for the movie.

A Date With Tad Hamilton is exactly the kind of show you would expect it to be. Has pretty faces, cheesy lines, no plot (okay, fluffy plot), humour that any idiot can understand, is politically-correct, is totally unrealistic, but somehow is a great couple show for cuddling up to (i.e. a lot of couples cuddling around us). Me? I was being my usual eye-rolling, snorting self, and he, when not being eye-rolling and snorting, was asleep.

I guess they’re right about love making you stupid. Although watching this movie was a pretty stupid choice on our part. We should have just gone with Zatoishi or Elephant – at least the other 2 had swords, guns, fights, killings, blood and violence.

But well, was a pretty good time still. Although I had to be home early coz as usual, the dad insisted on waiting up (I don’t get this. I’m 20 years old. I’ve lived away from home for a year. I’m in dragonboat. I have a fucking black in taekwondo. But *sigh*. I concede that at the end of the day I’ll still be a DLG (Daddy’s Little Girl) anyway. Even when I’m 40 and balding).

As usual, I forgot to bring the remote control to open to gate so to spare myself the embarrassment of having to ring the bell, I climbed over the gate. And my dad who was waiting up, almost opened it WHILE I was swinging my leg over the top. And proceeded to say “Later the police assumes you’re a burglar and arrests you.”

After that, he asked me if my friend had sent me home – which he did. But he wasn’t too happy about the us eating at Geylang bit. “Lousy place to be in.”

True lah, but the food was good, the company was good. And I promised him Paulhaner’s the next outing.

So yeah man... Past 2 days were hella good. Here's to an even better week ahead!

Currently Playing In the Shadows By Rasmus see related

ENDING IT WITH A BANG

I wanted to party hard last night. I think I really did. I partied so hard that I don't remember anything from 1am till the time I woke up (thankfully in my own bed, fully-clothed except for my boots, in my own room, with the door locked for me).

BUT I'm getting too far ahead of myself, aren't I? *wink*

Met Jo, Marc, James and Lionel at the Coffee Bean at Great World. At 10.05 pm, I was the latest to arrive. Fortunately for me Lionel said tt he's only come 2 minutes earlier. Muahaha. So we walked over to Zouk, although we were waylaid by this absolutely sweet dog (reminds me of a corgi. Don't know if it's a stray but it looks too well-kept to be one. Absolute darling. Marc was tempted to take it home). But in the end we entered Zouk instead. I was wearing the outfit tt I bought in the afternoon - a black/white top with a unique back tt really flattered my figure (one of the rare outfits). It looks great under the flourescent lighting at Zouk. Unfortunately it also attracts attention - at both the right and wrong times.

Being incredibly early we managed to get tables at near the bar beside the dance floor to lounge around before 1-for-1. In the meantime the guys used their coupons to get a jog of vodka orange and 2 bottles on anchor to share. Anchor tastes like water. On one hand, it's cool and refreshing. But on the other it's not a good beer and you tend to down more of it.

Joanna's friends from AC and Hall also popped by, as did Marc's friends, and Daryl. I like the nice black shirt with white stripes. Daryl and James also did a manual flamin' lambo for two of Marc's friends using a match and a candle. Nice going. :) Ooh. And they also mentioned that my darling G1 said that he would be coming down. But I don't know if he did tho. Can't imagine him for a clubber.

Anyway at 11pm James and I went down to get the two jugs of long island and two tequila pops for ourselves (my first ever tequila pop. But I still prefer neats). And I was drinking from the jugs like they were water even tho I still firmly maintain that long island tastes like the worst kind of medicine. Big mistake. I always tend to drink all my alcohol like I'm taking shots - all at once. And last night I barely ate dinner. So even though I was completely sobre when we hit the Zouk dance floor, along the way I slowly lost it.

My memory ended a little after we entered Phuture. It was around 1am. Joanna, James and I. And Martin (yes! finally got to meet you. so nice to too. :) Yayz). I was high at this time. I think I got a little off-balance a couple of times. Hopefully I didn't do something utterly embarassing like trip over someone's feet. Like the one time I tripped over the feet of the bouncer near the dj console and he had to catch me. Jane had been torn between concern and laughter.

But after that, my memory ended. I don't remember anything else. In fact, most of what I'll be writing now will be feedback from James and Daryl. Coz all I remember since 1am, is opening my eyes and finding myself sprawled on my bed, still in my clubbing outfit, my boots on the floor, my valuables on my table, my door locked and a note from Marc telling me that he's kept my key for my safety.

Ladies and gentlemen that's when the power of effectiive communication comes in. Aka sms the suspected members of the alliance tt resulted in your being in your current state, and from them trace back the events that unfolded.

From James (via MSN), I learnt that I had somehow stumbled out of Phuture to the Wine Bar outside Zouk (when that happened, how I managed to get out in one piece, or what I was doing before that however, remains a mystery to me), proceeded to kick Winston off his chair (ok. I messaged him to apologize, but he says he doesn't remember it either so I'm saved), sit down and start puking.

That's why I now earn the nickname of Incredible Puking Machine (IPM). Because I puked 5 times. Me. Someone who rarely ever pukes. 5 fucking times!!! Fortunately, I did not puke on him. Otherwise he wouldn't be talking to me this morning.

And then at this time when I was slumped over the table at Wine Bar outside of Zouk in the absolute, most un-glamourous fashion EVER, all of Law school who went to Zouk just happen to be leaving the place. And therefore, according to Daryl, they were all around me to see me in this utter wasted mess. I'm so horrified. Thank god school doesn't start for 3 months! If I had to go for a lecture this morning I wouldn't be able to look at anyone!

After that, somehow Marc takes me back to hall in a cab (once again, how i managed to get to the cab and survive the journey is a practical mystery. I suppose I should have asked Marc today when I went to collect my key from him, but he was too sleepy and needed more sleep. Plus, considering how much trouble I caused I felt bad enough already), gets me up to my room, takes off my boots and locks my door. Such a nice guy. Really appreciate it.

So I've come to the conclusion that I owe James and Marc bigtime for taking such great care of me. And Lionel too (although I don't remember him at all after 1am). It's absolutely wonderful to be in the company of trustworthy, generous friends whom you know will make sure that you get home absolutely safe and in one piece.

But like I said, considering all the trouble I caused, I really do owe them big time.

James cancelled the Kill Bill Vol. 2 outing today coz he was hung over, I was definitely hung over, and we couldn't make the timing today. So we'll watch it the week after when we're both free.

Instead, I went to Bizad for lunch coz I was absolutely ravenous. Don't know how I managed to get there and back with a hangover, but I guess the need for food was too overwhelming. Had my fave fish mee sua soup again. But I think the serving portion is too small. Finishing the whole bowl still leaves me hungry and unsatisfied.

But anyway I was sitting to these 4 old guys who looked like they were form engin or comp science (as well as China) and one of them was talking about some project he was thinking of developing. Get this.

Period Management System.

A computer-generated interface that lets you (you being the guy) monitor the menstrual cycle of your wife/mistress/girlfriend/fuck-buddy etc so that you can answer the following problems with ease: (1) When to use proection? (2) When no need to use protection? (3) When to get her pregnant? (4) When to run down to NTUC to get Kotex? (5) When to hang around and when to butt out of the picture?

And in doing so, apparently you are therefore able to 'manage' your wife/mistress/girlfriend/fuck-buddy. The conclusion: you can effectively date 7 girlfriends at a go if you want.

I looked up at the speaker and 2 things crossed my mind:

(1) The idea is damn viable.

(2) You are never ever going to get 7 girlfriends in your lifetime, let alone at once. In fact I bet the only interaction you will ever have with the opposite sex will be through your computer screen while you jack off watching cheap porno you sad sick freak.

I'm a bitch, I know.

So after lunch I was thinking of popping down to Sentosa to chill out, but the rain spoilt it. Yes, Ivan. You happy now? But anyway my afternoon in my room was still pretty good, so no complaints there. Had Dinner at Breko's at Holland V, went down to Queenstown for a while, then came back to home around 9.

Dad flew back from Brunei. Walked through the door around 10. We + the mom then went over to Newton for supper. 3 people: 1 chilli stingray, 1 sambal sotong, 1 plate of see hum, chicken wings and fried carrot cake (black). Plus tau suan and cheng tng.

Home sweet home, finally. Good way to end everything off.

Tomorrow I just gotta start moving out of hall.

[Intro: Eminem]

I don't know dude
I think everybody's all jealous and shit
Cause I'm like the lead singer of the band dude
And I think, everybody's got a fuckin problem with me dude
And they need to take it up with me after the show

[Hook: Eminem]

Because these chicks don't even know the name of my band
But they're all on me like they wanna hold hands
Cause once I blow they know that I'll be the man
All because I'm the lead singer of my band

[Verse: Eminem]

So I get off stage right? drop the mic
Walk up to these hot chicks and I'm all like
What's up, ladies? My name's Slim Shady
I'm the lead singer of D12 baby
They're all like "Oh my God! It's him"
"Becky oh my fuckin God it's Eminem!"
"I swear to fuckin God, dude you fuckin rock!"
"Please Marshall, please let me suck your cock?"
Now by now the rest of the fellas get jealous
Especially when I drop the beat and do my accapellas
All the chicks start yellin, all the hot babes
Throw their bras and there shirts and there panties on stage
So like every single night they pick a fight with me
But when fight it's kinda like sibling rivalry
Cause they're back on stage the next night with me
Dude I just think they're tryin to steal the light from me
Yesterday Kuniva tried to pull a knife on me
Cause I told him Jessica Alba's my wife to be
This rockstar shit, it's the life for me
And all the other guys just despise me because beats

[Hook: Eminem]

Because these chicks don't even know the name of my band
But they're all on me like they wanna hold hands
Cause once I blow they know that I'll be the man
All because I'm the lead singer of my band

[Bridge: Eminem]

My Band! My Band! My Band! My Band! My Band!
My Band! My Band! My Band! My Bannnnnnnnnnnnd!
Baby Yeaaaah!

[Verse: Swifty]

You just wanna see a nigga backwards dont you
Hey dad! How come we don't rap off Pro Tools?
Smash these vocals and do a performance
But we in a van, and he in a tour bus
You don't want my autograph, you's a liar
And naw I'm Swift (Oh, I thought you were Kuniva!)
And what the Hell is wrong with our dressing room?
Cause our shit is lookin smaller than a decimal
See I know how to rap, it's simple but
All I did was read a Russell Simmons book
So I'm more intact, tryin to get on the map,
Doin jumpin jacks while gettin whipped on my back

[Verse: Kon Artist/Kuniva (Eminem)]

Look at Em lil punk ass, thinkin he the shit
Yeah I know man by himself takin on the flicks
Hey, I thought we had and interview with DJ Clue
(No I had an interview, not you two)
You gon' be late for soundcheck
Man, I ain't going to soundcheck
Man, our mics is screwed up
And his always sound best
You know what man? I'ma say something
Ay'yo Em! (You got something to say!) Man, nothing
I though you was about tell him off man, what's up?
Man, I'm a tell him what I feel like it man, shut up
And you ain't even back me up, and we supposed to be crew
Man I was about to talk right after you, I swear
Awe man, whatever!
I swear man!

[Hook: Eminem]

Because these chicks don't even know the name of my band
But they're all on me like they wanna hold hands
Cause once I blow they know that I'll be the man
All because I'm the lead singer of my band

[Verse: Proof]

They say the lead singer's rock, but the group is not
With some sold out arenas to amusement parks
I'm gon' let the world know that Proof is hot
I should cut his mic off when the music starts (Hey yo it's...)
Ready to snap on a dumbass fan
Everytime I hear (Hey dude, I love your band!)
We ain't a band bitch, we don't play instruments
So why he gettin 90 and we only get 10 percent?
And these guys actin funny every area code
(Proof carry my bag!) Bitch, carry your own
Can't make it to the stage, security in my way
(Who the fuck are you? Where's Obie and Dre?)

[Verse: Bizarre]

God dammit I'm sick of this group
Time for me to go solo, and make some loot
I told you I made the beats and wrote all the raps
Til Kon Artis.. slipped me some crack
Lose Yourself video.. I was in the back
Superman video.. I was in the back
For the media, I got some suggestions
Fuck Marshall, ask us a question
Like who's D12? How'd we get started?
(But what about Eminem?) Bitch are you retarded?
Anyway, I'm the popularist guy in the group
Big ass stomach, bitches think I'm cute (Hey sexy!)
50 told me do sit-ups to get buff
Did two and a half, and couldn't get up
Fuck D12, I'm out of this band
I'm about to start a group with the real Roxanne

[Bridge: Eminem]

GIRL WHY CANT U SEE YOUR THEE
ONLY ONE FOR ME AND IT JUST
TEARS MY ASS APART TO KNOW THAT
YOU DONT KNOW MY BAAAANNNNDDDD!

[Hook: Bizarre]

These chicks don't even know the name of my band (Haha!)
But they're all on me like they wanna hold hands (Fuck Marshall!)
Cause once I blow they know that I'll be the man (Yeah!)
All because I'm the lead singer.. Hahaha

[Bridge: Eminem]

My Band! My Band! My Band! My Band! My Band!
My Band! My Band! My Band! My Bannnnnnnnnnnnd!

[Talking: Bizzare]

Yeah!
The hardest boy band in the world!
D12!

[Outro: Eminem]

I'm the lead singer of my band
I get all the girl to take of their underpants
I'm the lead the singer of my band my salsa
Makes all the pretty girls want to dance
My salsa, Whoo Whoo!
Look out for my next single its called my salsa
My salsa, salsa, salsa, salsa, my salsa
My salsa make all the pretty girls want to dance and take of their underpants
My salsa make all the pretty girls want to dance and take of their underpants
My salsa

Where did everybody go?

Currently Playing My Band By D12 see related