&(*&(*&(*&!!!!

I am convinced that only a psycho person would keep arranging the fridge, destacking things and reconfiguring compartments. On top of marking your markings on others' stuff. Today I walked back to see that my pasta sauce was out of the fridge. And that a substantial amount was depleted. Well, we all live in BH. It is the most expensive building on-site. Surely cheapo Ragu's pasta sauce can be afforded. And surely you could have the decency to fucken put sauce back in the fridge. P.S. The fridge has loaaaads of space in it.

What scares me more is. . what if they used dirty, saliva-infested spoons and dipped it in.

Frankly, you don't burn others' pots and not wash up. You don't displace others' cheese and beef and make them spoil.

The dilemma here is. . if I leave a nasty (or even polite) note. .would anyone spit into my stuff. AHHH. Otherwise, something tells me that these shady vibes are not to be messed with upfront. . . because, people pump iron. Fuck.

Oh God. These fuckers.

I don't know how TM can tell me I have to stay on site for four years. Errgh, with this shit, I am fast wanting out quicker and quicker.

She cannot blame me if I am looking for a bedsit and need to move out. A tiny space is good, as long as I don't have fucktards messing with my stuff and stealing my food (frankly, you could just ask). Oh God, imagine if we all shared a toilet. Now I just chant for more money. And if my normally-impatient father tells me to be patient and forgiving, I will fly back for Christmas looking bone-thin (after starving myself for a month or so) and make him realise the gravity of the situation.

Frankly, can anyone tolerate such a psycho? I am not so sure. AHH, sometimes you see some people and you cannot help but think that they are a match made in hell. Birds of a rotten stinkin feather flockin' together.

Okay I have walked out in a huff and stuck that note. We'll see if my things continue going missing. You see, I don't overtly note the amount of food I have left, but I am affirmative that some beef has gone missing (they are all packed anally in one of my freezer bags, which cannot be mixed up with any one else's). If cheapo Ragu sauce that is £2 for a hugeassed bottle can go missing, wheewy, who knows what is being done to all my luxury premium food. Fanfuckentastique.

The moral being, if you want food, go buy it yourself. If you don't have money, buy cheaper food. If your hands are itchy, go scratch your own cock or slap your own face. Don't mark the bottles of milk that others buy.

091117

x The whole room smells devilishly blissful. In fact, it smells of devilishly blissfuls.

x So territoriality is touching, huh? :) Ahh, then I remember that I have been bagged and tagged and claimed and branded. Lol I can be painfully slow in this department.

x The H says, all I need to do is make a certain shift in position and it will all come rolling in. Hmm, I am still meditating on what that means. In the meantime, I really should send letters out tomorrow. Except that I am legendarily bad at selling myself.

x I realise there is a uniform that Chinese Asians wear here (inc. Singaporeans). Big sweater, track shoes and ill-fitting jeans. And really ugly backpack. Hmm.

x These days the colours in my head have done a slight shift from red/black/white to purple/gold/silver.

x Well I did some work today. But I really must step on it and stop thinking of fermentation (oh God I am in need of port) and the LoadsOfTime. I am even thinking of doing the later assignments first. That way I have reason to continue to ferment. Ahhh.

x This is bad. I am so bored I am playing loads of FB games. AHHH. It is really amusing to hafta hire your friends. . And the people I hire, makes me want to laugh. Funny is how the avatar almost always matches the person, and sometimes when I think, e.g. "Little Emperor gathering stones!?" I chuckle like mad. It is simply this dogged obsession to keep going to a higher level till you complete (as with every game I play. . God the mad streak in me!). . and if only real life could be so. . moolah-rich like this. What amuses me more is how you can use 'mascara' for a showdown. Lol. So if I own a farm, a city lifestyle, a café, run a pirate ship, run a zoo, am a Fashionista, engage in the Mafia, and own an amusement park all at a go. . what the fuck am I.

x It is always nice to feel your groceries lighter. Sometimes I think I am psychotic for carrying loads home (unlike my friends who make multiple trips) and I wonder if I am killing my body. But, I have always felt most for those who sell their strength, making meagre wages out of hard labour. Whilst I am not sure which earns better-- pimping out your brains or body, which really depends on opportunity-- pimping out brute strength can be the saddest.

x Lulu says I will come back looking like Amazon Woman. Which is good. I have workouts already inbuilt into my schedule.

x ". .we must get the 'large' size"
"WHAT? LARGE!?"
"It's according to height. . Ooh no wonder your stockings are too small for you"
Lol. And I always bought XS.

x I have decided that the next time I am stopped I will turn around and give the Ronaldo Bug Teeth.

x Bach's Sanctus, Sanctus-- Mass in B Minor, BWV 232 is very rousing. It could actually be quite a soundtrack.

x Apparently telling sumbardy that I always want to wake him up whilst he is dead asleep and after I have done my stuff is equated with Confessions of a __.

today,

Okay, calm down, calm down.


It is bad enough to have your milk labeled with. . someone's labels!?!?

Because, you are the only one around who drinks whole milk a.k.a. full-fat


And you are the only one who buys that brand.


And you distinctly remember the expiry dates given your photographic memory + the fact that you bought it yesterday.

apparently, i suffer from

borborygmi


I knew the gurgling was worrisome.

kinda. . partially. . ahh i am disturbed by the sum overall transpirations here.

Obviously women come to see sex as the sum of their worth because society tends to do the same, while men aren’t forced to struggle with the same debased equation. […] This is the ugly underbelly of being a distractingly good-looking woman: You have to feel pretty good about who you are on the inside to stay focused on it when most of the people around you just can’t shut up about how hot you are.
— Heather Havilresky

091116

x Asking sumbardy to go to sleep whilst I go to bathe and try to do my work is impossible because we always. . have other things in mind. Well, not exactly just in mind. In body and in soul. That's a funny description, 'other agendas in soul'. Now he is asleep I desperately want to wake him up lol. AHHH, tomorrow is no-school day!! The DND sign is hanging on my door already (the other day I decided to sleep in so I had to frantically wear clothes in the morning just in case I slept in a horrible position when the cleaners came in later, because I needed them in), and I hope the MyHermes delivery man will come late in the afternoon.

x "Why the hell do you have a Singapore flag?!"
"In case the cleaner thinks I am from China"
HAHAHAA. FYI, I was the question asker. Although, I realise, I have this tendency to mistake about 4 Singaporeans (so far) as hailing from China. Hmm, maybe people think the same of me. Oh no, they think I'm Thai.

x And the sides of the Mac keep molting. .I must be too rough.

x If I go back to Singers, I HAVE to bring my t-shirts over.

x P: I think there is something wrong with me I don't feel cold!
TF: Maybe the ____ is burning you and then it happens to keep you warm.
HAHAHA. I think the only real words of wisdom that I ever learnt from **** was that when you do something and have someone else you want to do it for *as well*, it gives you an added boost and a turbocharged purpose (my words; he could never be so. .profound lol). And sometimes, even when I feel a little . .down here (as diagnosed by BlackSheep&RottenApples a.k.a. 害群之马), I remember the stakeholders who have paved my way here. (Sometimes having people proud of you. . can be stressful lol).

x Once in a while, I trawl google for traces of me that shouldn't be, and I always jump up in shock-- eager to ensure that the only traces of me would be either extremely academic, research-based or dull contracted writings. I found this that I read at the corner of my eye "Perpetua and Robin are getting married", and I saw "Perpetua" and "married" and I jolted. And then I realised. OH, that is my antithesis in Singapore. Who is also PN. Who is a domestic little Catholic girl. And then I also found another Perp. I think she is my ex-piano teacher's daughter judging from her two names. Her husband named their daughter after me. How did he know me? Because I spoiled too many metronomes (the kind that tock tock tock tock with the pendulum from side to side) whenever she delivered them to my house, and I was so impatient I'd play with them and overwind them, no matter how she'd caution me not to touch them. Funny way to name your daughter.

x I should start coming up with some site to advertise proofreading and paid researching. Then I will have moolah to live happily out of this place.

x It is one thing to complete another's sentences or to predict (although in an amused way), and another thing to keep saying the same thing at the same time, even if you haven't said such things before. Yet there is something else besides amusement or familiarity, and I don't know what it is. Tapping into something shared. . yet there is this strange excitement or zings or waves. Sometimes you read stories about how people get bored of each other because they know what each other is going to say, but then again that is after. . 15 years, and it is way less than say, 15 months here. Although, then again, there are more interesting non-tv-derived topics, or even the dissection of 'canine' here.

x "After __, we will discuss for a few minutes, and I will go to sleep. You go read up more". Of course I want to sleep. I mean, why would I want to think about the etymology of the word 'canine' after a devilishly blissful. Lol. Curling up is better.

x Okay okay, P. .. three more weeks to 8 Dec. Four more weeks to the date you are supposed to do three essays + 2 proposals extremely well by. SEND OUT ALL YOUR LETTERS!!!!

x "If people looked into the window they'd think you are a __"
". . they'd think you hired a ___"
Kink is so deeply embedded, somehow, it's like how there will always be kinks in my hair.

x ". .what was the last pair I showed you"
[…]
[…]
"I remember this one"
"Ahh. . then it's only been five pairs since two weeks ago"
Fuck. I am STILL so nervous showing him my loot. I mean, I know he clearly enjoys them (I quote, "So I am waiting to see them!"), but still . . it is this surreal feeling that he can actually stand my madness and claim he is fascinated?!? When I was younger I was determined that I would have two houses. One with my real shopping stuff, and the other with the bare minimum, of which the man would only have access to the latter, in case he dies of a heart attack.

x ". .guess. ."
". . silver heels. ."
"No. . there is no silver heels. . unless there is someone else showing you shoes too"
Although, remember, gold AND silver heels have been on the wishlist for a long time. And, emotional and/or physical others are . .not tolerated. Even if they just show shoes. (Wow, I can actually get territorial. Amazing. This is sumthang new).

x ". . to rip them off. . "
"NO! See that red thing. . the upper-tier is for cheapo stockings for ripping. Not this pair!!"
Ripper's ripples, eh?

x ". . sleek and sexy in black shirt . . "
"Not the freshly trimmed beard?"
"I see, you have a jealous beard. . or the man himself is a petty one"
Lol. It is fun to keep doing the shirt thang, before hastily (intentionally on purpose) adding in the beard component; just like how I find it unfair to equate anatomical locations in my case.

x Sometimes I get a shock, e.g. when I see contemporaries' "23rd birthday" out fresh. What, it is still 2009!? Like I said, it feels as though 10 years have passed since I have set foot here.

cheeeeep cheeeeep cheaaaaap

People can be cheapos, stealing your stuff from the fridge. Like apple sauce, carbonara sauce, etcetera. Stealing your bowls, and God knows what else.

Today I chatted with my neighbour-- whom I always talk to, but whose name I have forgotten haha-- and he told me he keeps a fridge illegally in his room. Well, I asked him, because you can't possibly keep producing frozen pizzas and garlic bread magically from your room, right? He does that-- and keeps all his woks and saucepans-- in his room because shared kitchens are headaches. I concur.

Well, I like some of my kitchen mates. But I only mean some.

There are those with multiple guests, who make a mess (but of course the cleaners clean up in the morning, but that ain't the point) and a lot of noise, and steal your stuff.

And then there is The Fucktard who reconfigures the fridge compartments every few days (I have a good idea who he is, by the process of natural elimination and shady vibes), moves your stuff here and there AND displaces your frozen meats elsewhere, so they spoil. And, when you have a half-opened packet of cheddar, the most obvious place to keep it is the fridge. My packet went missing magically, only for me to find it unsealed in. . a drawer. Fantastic, eh.

Which is why I am thinking of having a fridge in my room, except that I have so much food in the fridge. I'd cook in my room if I could-- but nah, the fucken smoke detectors-- and essentially, I've always dreamed of open-concept living. And not sharing stuff with inconsiderate people.

So anyhows, there is this guy whom we will call X. X is kind enough to lend me (and I assume others to, unless they just used it without permission) his three saucepans and frying pans and what-nots. I normally just use two of the smaller saucepans and that's all. If I fry anything and they get stuck to the bottom, I stand there for fifteen minutes frantically scrubbing everything off. Persistence pays off here. You are using things that people graciously lent to you-- it is a privilege. So it is only right that you are considerate, right?

I wanted to use two saucepans today. Voila. All the fucken residue from frying was stuck to the bottom. The user-- who cannot be X, because he uses a wok to fry; anyhows I am quite . .certain I know who the user is, based on first-hand observation of my own-- did not bother to clean it off. And based on my experience of cleaning things, they can be cleaned off, albeit with substantial effort.

Which I think is really phenomenally rude. Or, if X does not know that User(s) use(s) it too, then. . ladida, I am implicated. Purrfect.

Sometimes it is the horrible black sheep and the rotten apples that taint your experience. For instance, without The Fucktard & User (two distinct entitites) and sans the fuckers who are always pressing the fire alarm *accidentally* (a.k.a. for fun), I am sure that I would actually love the boredom here.

beep honk blearrrgh

C is a creepy place, as I have concluded. On my first day-- and in broad daylight-- I was in a dress and knee-high boots. Decent-looking, nothing too outstanding. This car with two men cruised past. The passenger had his window seat wound down and started going, "Nice legs!". Err. You can see my legs in knee-highs? (I wasn't even in thigh highs-- they are only reserved for sumbardy, and now do I understand his foresight in banning them to indoors only).

Anyhows, this phenomena continued. Cars honking, making eye contact, cat-calling, blah blah. How do I know it is me? Easy. There is no other person around walking. Or it is quite obvious. Living in Singapore has heightened my awareness of attention.

But I think carefully. I have been covered up everyday. Short of having gloves and a face mask, my whole body is covered. Generally, I am in a coat, otherwise a jacket. I am either in highly opaque tights or jeans. So it doesn't really make sense.

Cars-- sedans, convertibles, SUVs, you name it. Vans. Trucks. AHHHHH I want to dig a hole in the ground. I mean, can I walk to school and back in peace. Can I walk to the supermarket in my Purchased Specially For Supermarket Brogues in peace? Seriously. If I wore a miniskirt, no tights, and heels-- like some do-- in the cold, then maybe I asked for it. But no. If I dressed that way, I always have an oversized coat wrapped around me. Something that covers my thighs.

Of late, there has been a new phenomenon. It goes like this,

Honk.
Stop by the roadside.
Err. . right.
"Excuse me, would you like a lift somewhere"
"No"
"Are you sure?"

Obviously I walk away, reassessing the number of weapons I have with me. Such as knuckleduster rings (it's good that I have the taste of a muthafucken p.i.m.p. at times) and stiletto heels (if I am wearing any). My Celine bag is fucken heavy it could bash someone's head, otherwise the huge chain fixed to my black handbag (or the bag itself) could do some considerable damage. Of course, all the self-defense I learnt are mentally rehearsed. Of course, the next time I get such a thing, I would say, "Yeah, to the police station maybe?". (If the police are actually. . useful lol). Or, "'Cuse me, are you hitting on a criminologist". God.

I am also starting to get suspicious of the 73217309123912 times when I am always stopped to give directions (even in Singers), which I happily do, because (1) people give me directions when I am very very very very very desperate enough to ask [I am a man in this sense] (2) It is not nice feeling lost (3) I am quite good at giving directions. But I realise that here, I get stopped to 'give directions' at an average of 3 times a week, during which I walk on the roads about 4 days a week.

Anyhows, wondering if it was my boots (knee-high, black, 4-inch stilettoes that looks rather proper and decent) that was at fault, I wore a pair of sober flat tan brogues with the same outfit after a pit stop back. Nada. Still the same effect.

The other day I walked into the kitchen where some other's guests were. I was in a pair of shorts, having come out of my room, where there is absolutely no necessity to be bundled up as though I am in the Arctic regions. As I made my tea, the guy kept sneaking peeks. Extremely obviously. And smiling to himself. Well, I do know that we all like to look at good-looking creatures. But even when I do so, I don't remember being so obvious. (Unless I am smiling at sumbardy, of course).

And I think to myself, oh come on, you have seen nice bodies before. Nice faces. Nice legs. I mean, these are everywhere. Otherwise, just google some search term or go to some site and you'll get awesome pictures in HD quality.

I am getting more cynical I no longer smile to anyone who smiles to me any longer. Soon I will learn some basic sign language.

It is with these events that I conclude that men (who come) here might have never seen a pair of legs before. Whether encased in tights, stockings, or bare.

green tea

I swear I will never drink green tea to sleep again. But hey, isn't it supposed to be caffeine-free? Plus I wonder why my body is so sensitive to external stimuli these days. On a more positive note, I realise that I am rather versed at the art of self-hypnosis. Although today I will be walking around with dry eyes and an even drier mind, yawning incessantly, whilst swearing I will wear four inches today, even if I have just laddered a gorgeous (new) pair of tights (but I think the laddered look is awesome). For tonight, too, I swear I will sleep by 12. Amen.

daily dose

If you want to achieve your objectives, you have to be prepared for daily dose of discomfort; but your joy will be stronger, and you will win at the end.(Si quieres atingir tus objetivos, preparate para uma dosis diaria de malestar; pero la alegria es mas fuerte, y ganaras en el final)



- Paulo Coelho