Fire, Fire, Burning Bright

What a smoking good way to start the day.

When I woke up at 6am this morning, I was expecting such an exciting morning. It started off normally enough; one of my course modules requires us to play this game for a project, and the bloody freaking game runs for 24 hours. So my group mates and I are going hardcore; we pull grave yard shifts (think 3am) just to record changes and react to situations. Sigh.

Anyway, when I went to the kitchen to scavage for some breakfast, everything seemed as it should be. But 15 minutes later, when I went out of my room again, the first thing that hit my was that the living room was damn smokey.

Alarmed, I stuck my head out of the living room window but there was no smoke. I ran to the kitchen and lo and behold, smoke was belching from the roof. The wind was blowing the smoke into my kitchen, causing the whole place to become dense with smoke.

And so I did what any independent, 20-year old would do: I ran and called my dad.

My dad took stock of the situation and called 995. Miraculously, we heard the sirens 2 minutes later, but for some reason, the fire engine truck never appeared. My dad called again, and the people insisted that they were on their way.

Somehow, my dad figured out that the roof wasn't on fire; the fire was coming from the rubbish chute. Another reason why we girls can't do without our daddies. He ran downstairs to check it out, and by this time, my mum had jumped out of bed and grabbed the important documents (yes, the paranoid mum rules the day).

We ran downstairs (sans documents) once my dad called back to say that the firemen were here and putting out the fire.

Apparrently, some asshole had thrown a cigarette butt down the chute. And in case you're wondering, it's a fairly common occurance, with up to 15 cases a month. I've stayed here for 20 years and it's the first time this has happened. I hope the offender burns in eventually hell. It's only poetic justice for what he had caused.

But what amazed me even more was that nobody noticed the smoke. Hello, people on the 2nd floor, can't you tell that your rubbish chute was emitting smoke, and the area felt uncomfortably hot? You had to wait until the people on the highest floor to notice that the air vent on the roof was belching smoke before some action was taken? Idiots. They deserved to burn in hell for their stupidity, or lack of concern.

Highlight of the whole event: the 2 Malay firemen that came were quite cute. FIY, they came blazing through the streets on shining white motorcycles. Damn cute. And no, I do not have a thing for Malays, ok! I have a thing for all cute guys! *maligned* Shiny bikes, uniforms (yes, I do have a thing for men in uniforms; more manly what), what's there not to like?

And it didn't hurt that by the time the whole debacle was over, it was already too late to attend my morning class. Leisurely eating breakfast with the folks is a nice change from the usual gulping of whatever is available to fill tummy. And back to bed I went after breakfast. Teeheehee.

Ahem, the moral of this event is, if I see anyone of you lighting a cigarette in front of me, I might turn violent. Smoking kills, especially when coupled with stupidity. And in the race of survival of the fittest, the dumb ones just have to go. As a superior being higher up in the food chain than such smoking idiots, it's my duty to keep the balance in check. Hah. So don't give me reason to do harm. Either that, or your body will take care of the dirty deed by killing you from the inside. So don't be stupid, don't smoke ok?

How Much Is My Blog Worth?

More useless information. I should really stop crawling the net for banal stuff.

My blog is worth $2,822.70.
How much is your blog worth?

Bah, that's miserable. Xiaxue's blog is worth $1,918,871.46. No competition at all.

How do my friends compare? Check this out:

Charlotte: $0 (whoops!)

Pei Wen: $1,129.08

Jing Yi: $0 (alamak!)

Amanda: $0

Shawn: $564.54

Eng Teck: $9,597.18 (phwoah!)

Cheryl: $2,258.16

SarongPartyGirl: $620,429.46

Ok, enough of this nonsense.

Blogging Because I Don't Want To Do Work

Is this true?

Your Brain's Pattern

You have a dreamy mind, full of fancy and fantasy. You have the ability to stay forever entertained with your thoughts. People may say you're hard to read, but that's because you're so internally focused. But when you do share what you're thinking, people are impressed with your imagination.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

Sigh, I'm definitely overblogging, it's like an obsession, or exhibitionist streak, that keeps bringing me back to write and write. LOL.

Oh yeah, I've made my first enemy (that I know of) at SMU. After class today, Kris, Syl and I were looking for a GSR to sit down and do our work. Since all the rooms were booked (damn those kiasu people who block book!), I remembered that the Volleyball Club had block booked a room for its players to use. Without really checking the bookings, we barged into the room and kicked out the person. And he was so apologetic.

For some reason, he decided to stick around outside the room. 15 minutes later, this girl walked in and said that she booked the room. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the volleyball bookings only began 1 hour later. We excused ourselves and as we walked past the person we had ousted (gleefully, I might add), he DIAOED me. Seriously, I'm not shitting you. The venomous glare he aimed at me was so cutting I almost felt like running away shamefaced.

Let's hope he doesn't recognize my face. Later he download my picture from OASIS and shoot darts at it. Or he circulate amongst his friends that there this BEEYOTCH who pretends to book rooms and kick out people who, although also not the rightful user of the room, had the rights to the room for being there first. Sianzzzz....

I'm Finally Paid!!!!!

Finally, after God knows how many freaking months, OCBC has paid me. It may not exactly be a windfall, but enough for me to rush out immediate and do some shopping. *Gloat* Am now the proud owner of yummy skirt and lacy top from Esprit. *More gloating*

In case you think I'm flowing cash out of my nose, let me clarify that I did the responsible thing and gave half the amount to my Dad to pay for part of my laptop. *Sniff* I should have just kept quiet. Ah well.

And of course, the money came in handy at the right moment because my freaking volleyball shoes TORE. Yes, after 5 arduous years, the fibres have given way and the sole has detached itself. Bought my new volleyball shoes yesterday, together with brand, new spanking knee pads! I know you people may have no idea why the heck I'm so excited, but buying new stuff always rules!

Although, I'm officially on the reserve team, so that kinda sucks. Oh well, since I'm next in line, all I can do is hex one of my team mates so that she sprains an ankle or something, hence allowing me to take my place on the court in my new shoes. Muahahahahhaha.

Aiyah, as if I'm so evil, meh?

My Deadliest Sin

I really believe that my worst sin is sloth. For the uneducated and uninformed (Haha!), the seven deadly sins are Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed and Sloth. Ok, so I embody all the 7 sins. I think for the Lust factor alone, I've already been sent to the deepest bowels of hell. Like some of my "friends" might say, "You're damn hiao", "You 'ho", and those are my friends. But that's another story.

Lately, all I want to do is curl up on my bed and sleep the day away. I may wake up occasionally to eat, bathe and perhaps catch up on a few good books (Am reading The Quiet American, great book!), but otherwise, the lovely, dark coccoon known as MY ROOM simply beckons. It's deep, dark recesses (thanks to thick curtains) and cool surroundings (had my air-con serviced; bloody cold now) make for the best place on earth to spend my time. Really.

Every morning is a struggle to get up from the comfy warmth of my sheets and comforter. Even after a rude wakeup call in the shower, I still want to jump back into bed and oblivion. Alas, life is not that kind.

Am in class right now. Give you money to guess where I wish I'd rather be.

After thought: Only perk of today would have to be that I'm lunching with the OCBC President at Esplande. Free, good food. Yup, Gluttony ranks second on the reasons why the pearly white gates above may not open for me. Pray for me.

Love, Ah Love...

Sometimes I wonder why people subject themselves to so much torture. In this case, I mean being in love. Sure, it feels like the best thing in the world; you feel complete, there's someone you can depend on, and hey, humans weren't built to be solitary creatures. But when you look at the destruction and hurt it can cause, the sheer amount of effort you need to put in, you wonder why more people don't just lose all optimism and give up on monogamy forever.

The best (and worse) kind of relationships are the ones where you put in effort to maintain. Where you are constantly thinking of your lover, putting in effort to meet up, hang out, communicate, surprise, delight and basically show that you care. Make sacrifices, make time, make sure the other person is aware of you.

But it is just so exhuasting. And then you start to wonder if it is worth all the strain. Juggling school and Fadz can sometimes be a fine art. Because of his ridiculous schedule, he will only know whether he can come out on weekdays at the last minute. So what happens? I have to make the decision whether to stay at home and do work (or spend me time) or rush out and meet him. I have on occasion felt extremely resentful, and have oft wondered if he realizes the effort that I put in to see him. I push aside my work commitments, stand up friends to meet him, stay up into the wee hours (after he has gone back to camp) to rush reports and assignments, all just so that we can spend more time together.

And at the back of my head, I'm constantly questioning myself, why bother? I'm young, relatively datable, why don't I choose the easy way out and just casual date? That way, there's no commitment, no resentment, no feelings to be hurt. And don't even get me started on the other excess baggage that commited dating drags along. Hello jealousy, pettiness, stupid quarrels and misunderstandings. Restrictions, self-control and monotony. Doesn't sound like a pretty package at all.

So why do we still do it? Why do we constantly dream of The One, of spending the rest of your life with that ONE person, of loving that ONE lover into your old age. No matter how big a flirt you are, no matter how much you may proclaim to be a swinging bachelor(ette), at the end of the day, you still wish you belonged in a relationship with that special someone. Someone who makes your heart go flip-flop, who makes you smile with thoughts of that person, who holds you like he never means to let go. Someone you know who will be around.

So why dream of that White Knight?

The answer lies in possession. The knowledge of looking at the love of your life and going, He's MINE. He's mine to hold as tight as I want, and only I can kiss and caress him (well, at least in most cases); that his gestures are made for me, his choices have me in mind. That it's my RIGHT to think of him constantly, my RIGHT to do stupid things that would make other people cringe, and above all, my RIGHT to occupy that portion of his heart and mind.

Possession. When you start losing that need to possess and be possessed, that's when you know it's over. But the magical thing is, you never stop hoping that someone would come along to fill that need. Lovers may die, but love never does. That why we keep trying. That's why we endure the madness and the crying, the pain and the jealousy. In the hopes of finding that feeling and keeping it. To feel glorified and justified. To be wrapped in that special bubble where so many damn things just can't penetrate.

Love, drive us to madness. Please.

Romance Is (Almost) Dead

We were eating at Swenson's and inspired by their new drinks list, I started to call Fadz Honey Darling.

He looked at the same list and started calling me Mango Tango.

How is that romantic, you tell me?

But then again, he let me drag him through MacRitchie (all 11km of it!) and to the treetop suspension bridge, even though he was fasting. And he didn't even blink an eye when I had to stop on many occasions to guzzle water as if my life depended on it, all the while controlling his own insane thirst.

Alright, he has redeemed himself.

Heartache

Wah lao, another disappointing training session. It was so farcical, I might as well have not played. I seem to be playing worse and worse each week, and I think the coach has given up on me. It's like, ok, she's here to make up the numbers. When the better player turns up, she can go pick the balls.

Fuck it.

And my stupid team mate refused to pass me the ball. It's like I'm some blithing idiot and I'd just screw everything up. Whatever. So I threw a temper in my own fashion. After training was over, I took a ball and whacked it over and over again at the wall. *Chuckles* The guys who were training on the court were rather alarmed at my angst. In fact, my captain had to come over and talk to me. Of course I said that I was pissed off at my own ineptitude, and not at my team mate. Even though everyone could see that she was not giving me the ball. I was thinking, Shit, I'm going to hell for lying, but at that moment, I just didn't give a fuck.

Sigh, and I totally need new shoes if I want to stop humiliating myself. My ancient, secondary-school ones have totally lost traction and at one point, when I jumped to spike the ball, I landed off-balance, slipped and hit my head against the floor.

Sigh.

An all-around shitty day. I got locked out of the locker and had to wait 1/2 hour to get my stuff.

The only few perks that I can conceivably smile about was the experience of sticking my head between my team mate's legs. Before you think of anything obscene, we were carrying each other on our shoulders and doing half-squats as a strengthening exercise. It was a kick being carried by my bony team mate.

And of course, my darling Fadz is back! No matter how much I whine, no matter what melancholic mood I am in, he will always find a way to tease me out of it. He would listen and laugh at my silliness and get me to snap out of the "mood" I'm in, and the security he provides is such a great peace of mind. Exhuasted after watching a late-night movie, as I lay on his chest and drifted off to sleep on the train, I felt so reassured, so calm. Like, no matter how bad times may be, no matter how pertulent and angsty I may be, this man will always be here for me.

Amen to that.

Conniving Men

I think many people have the misconception that I'm some bra-burning, man-hating feminist. Truly, I'm not. Yes, I may stand up for certain injustices, but I'm a modern feminist and believe that there really is such a thing as equality. Yes, I may make bitchy comments about men and sometimes make jokes at their expense, but at the end of the day, I'm all for men. I'm in love with one, love looking at them, love partying and dancing and flirting and talking to them. So you see, I'm not so bad.

But then again, there are those whom I truly despise. Men who are conniving, manipulative and basically take advantage of my niceness. Just because I'm more naive and trusting, they see it as an opportunity to use me as they see fit, before tossing me aside once I've lost my value to them.

It happened with A last semester. He cajoled me into believing that we were forming a friendship; having conversations, sharing our feelings, and all that bullshit. But after a while, I derived a pattern in all our conversations: he was either asking about my grades, talking about tests and exams, comparing advice on which courses to take, etc, etc, etc. Now that we are in different classes, he can't even be bothered to talk to me anymore. Just the other day, I saw him at the library. He acted as if he saw right through me and just walked pass without a single word exchanged. Bastard.

And the same thing is happening with S. He, on the other hand, is more skilled at molding the conversation to his needs. He would start off nicely enough, asking the precursor questions like "how are you?" and "how's life?", but that's just the preamble. He would then jump in and ask for the information he truly needs. Just last night, the conversation occurred like this. We were talking, and I thought he truly cared about my well-being. But then he asked "the question". I didn't have the answer. Having lost my value to him, he quickly told me that he had to go and left the conversation. But his msn was still on. I was close to throttling him.

Fuck it lah, am I some easy target to these assholes? What happened to just talking because you wanted to have a conversation with a friend? When did choosing friends and forming friendships become based on a person's perceived value? I feel so utterly disappointed in these people. At least with some guys, they are outright about their motives. It's just business. Fine, I can totally handle that. But if that's all you want, information, why do the sneaky thing and beat around the bush? Why lull me into this sense of "intimacy" only to cast me aside once you are done?

I feel so cynical about friendships now. Whenever somebody gets friendly with me, my first thought is, "What is his motive? Business or friendship?" How is one supposed to live life with such pessimism and suspicion? Seriously, it's bad for the soul.

Maybe being a stereotypical feminist isn't so bad after all.