exporting loneliness

Two more days to the start of the worrying wait for the O level results! Earlier, I hastily assembled a reading list to get me through this volatile period of sharp vicissitudes and psychosomatic turmoil, but realised that I'll never get through the pages of confusion stemming from the indulgent use of streams of consciousness that is Ulysses. Here's a gratuitous upload of a picture of Marilyn Monroe reading Ulysses.


It's those moments where you go: if Marilyn Monroe could (insert intellectual activity), so can I.
(yes even though the photo looks rather posed)

Anyway, I'll be reading The Bell Jar once again (after a conversation with Judith about it), one of the Robert Walser books that I've recently bought, and this collection of essays about eating alone, leaving me room to squeeze in another book. Not that anyone would be wildly interested, or anything.

I think I shall now go stare at the ceiling, to prepare myself for some corny but necessary mental carpe diem thing tomorrow morning.

ambitious holiday kitchen projects

Because my ever-growing list of "recipes to try" (I have a category of bookmarks just for this) is getting wildly out of hand, I'm trying to seek closure for some of these items and end their lives of quiet desperation. I'm quite an impulsive bookmarker too; there goes the recipes for homemade Greek Yogurt and wedding cake, along with the sadly aspirational macaron projects. I'm choosing the easy ones that won't require intimidating ingredients.

Roasted garlic and onion jam
French egg custard
Autumnal vegetable chowder
Chocolate pudding
Apple cobbler (Somewhat intimidating but imagine bringing it to christmas parties and surprising everyone etc. etc.)

Will blog about the ambitious holiday reading list soon.

tilting our plates to catch the light, and apologising to the ladies that we spilt mee siam all over.

xkcd

It's annoying how all the mistakes I make when practising for mcqs always make me appear as if I suddenly had all the IQ of a prawn sandwich. I'll have to triple and quadruple check now, if I'm not already frozen to the table by the time I'm done.

And! — anyone wants to come with me to Lasalle on Thursday for Eliz's dance showcase? (Not as if I'm insecure by myself. It's not like I someone there anyway. Sure don't come la. It's okay. I'm sure everyone has more important things to do on the last day of their exams. Don't feel too pressured. No, no, don't be sorry.)

(OH who am I kidding?)

Tomorrow holds greater promises!

(I can't believe there are people who go door to door selling small boxes of ice cream of average quality for $9.50.)

love and communication

I've written four essays today in 3 hours and I feel pretty darn good about it. I'm pleased for every essay, except of MND's passage-based part (ii) because I dislike Bottom immensely but the passage-based setters apparently decided to impose their own preferences on us, so I had to deign to begrudgingly accept their own imperialistic attitudes and pretend to enjoy his presence in the play in order to appreciate and fulfill the requirements of the question.

I went out with Jeremy, Christabel, Xinyi and Rachel to Takashimaya after the papers to procure the much-celebrated shopping vouchers for tomorrow's bride! If I climbed into the skin of her mother-in-law, I would advise her, out of some genuine concern, to immediately head for the basement's food section for all the nourishment it can bring. This whole wedding thing is really quite exciting. After that, we went to Kinokuniya to bum around and look at books, reminding me of the cyclic nature of my ambitious holiday reading list and the futility of it in the face of fatalism, etc.

And as if Went-to-Town Syndrome didn't get me (sore legs, aching feet and general lethargy), I went for my sister's passing-out-parade thing at the camp for band majors at CCAB later in the evening with my mum, and felt so deprived of rest that I had this minor existentialist panic attack while eating satay? because I didn't know whether the satay was real or merely an illusion? but it tasted great anyway?

My mum also realised that her son would be, in future, inept at getting around on his own because he didn't realise that Newton Food Centre was not within comfortable walking distance to Serene Centre and that mecca of honest and decent ice cream. Also, my worst fears have been confirmed — I've been holding chopsticks the wrong way since nearly 13 years ago when I first picked them up. Urgh, I can't snicker at western-types who can't pick up their sushi with chopsticks now!

sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams

The play within the play!

so children could understand

Let me now declare my undying love for TKAM, because it's hard for it not to elicit an emotional response from readers: I love how Mrs Dubose's mouth "seemed to have a private existence of its own". I love how we can find and contrive out symbolism in almost everything. I love how unreliable Scout is as the narrator. I love how Mrs Merriweather reminds me of someone I know. I love the ending, and its visceral and poignant images from Scout's reminiscence looking down her street from the front of the Radley yard. I love the theme music from the movie.

It's also difficult to overlook the progress of racial equality, from "baby-steps" following prejudice in Maycomb county, to living through seeing USA electing its first Black president. It's a great time to be alive.

Clytemnestra is a pretentious name for a dog

HAHA I have always loved this gag. I wish they wouldn't keep on showing the lamer ones on TV, because they're becoming staler than that french loaf in my fridge that my grandfather forgot about.

an aside

I know it's my own problem, but...
SHEESH I wish *someone* had acute laryngitis RIGHT NOW. LIKE, RIGHT NOW. Until the end of this year. A virtual one would be supremely awesome as well.
I also need selective amnesia because the more I replay the scene the more annoyed and pissed off I get.
Blame it on hormones. I've got something against enthusiasm presently.

(Hey, I feel better! Catharticccc....)

and you can do it like that

Social studies is tomorrow and woe — I'm not feeling extremely prepared despite all the studying.

In other news, I've finally solved my phone woes by... getting a new phone. It's the C902. You know, that cybershot one. I've managed to convince my parents by talking about how I've done research on the internet and cross-referenced to the newspapers for more information, and I gave an optimistic projection of how much I thought it'll cost ($98 after trade-in, yes go on, mock me for my naivety) that we realised was a tad to presumptuous upon glancing at the actual display at junction 8, because as the seconds ticked by while my dad looked at the actual price tag, I realised that both of us were contemplating on the fact that it would cost less to get an iPhone, for crying out loud.

Though I now have a new phone, my parents said that this was going to be my christmas present. Well, merry christmas me. Not only that, they're putting my request for a new wardrobe on hold. (By wardrobe, I mean the thing that you put your clothes in, not the "Winter 08/09" or "Summer 2009" kinds.) This wardrobe is currently held together by elephant glue and approximately 10 cm of wire. The runners and ball-bearings for the drawers are gone, so my grandfather, being the 1950s-type handyman he is, used vaseline to lubricate it. I feel that my quality of life is being worsened. I know that adults can be mean, but I didn't know that they could be this cruel.

you can do it like this

I'm started to love exams again! Not so the mindless studying and last-minute panic textbook-referring, but more so the independence and long stretches of free days to study. We don't have to go for morning assembly, deal with subversive juniors or fight a war every recess time just to eat! It is an amazing feeling.

And after taking the paper, we can coolly walk out with a bottle in one hand and sweater in another, and feel all-important and most-intelligent-and-capable-indeed, and comment on our performances. (Of course, in reality, no one coolly struts out because most people end up running out of the hall to thaw their frozen hands against the wan sunlight, and then struggle with pencil cases and mathematical sets and awkwardly protruding long rulers and flexible curves, all this while talking/screaming/laughing/crying about the paper at the same time.