So it seems I have returned, as I often do, without word or warning and most importantly, pictures. Cambodia was a shocking and horrifying amount of fun (or a fun amount of shock and horror, I'm so unsure these days, who can tell really) but after what, a backlog of 5 gigs of pictures this so isn't happening. School's started but I'm not there - my mom spent a very happy birthday rushing her stricken (feverish, shivering and generally miserable) daughter to the hospital. I've got five days off school, and while yes I was dreading returning to school I didn't think I wanted to avoid it this badly.

My mom asked me to look miserable and take pictures to commemorate the occasion - I don't think she's taking the epidemic ( seriously enough )

Yeah, behind me's Jeremy (The Boy, for all intents and purposes as it has been for the past three months, but who knows for the next three months, and the months following?), who is running off to America promptly, so yeah that's going to be a fun ride ugh.

Okay but let's not talk about that for a bit, or how running off to a different country with someone really intensifies things huh, and oh doom doom which wasn't the point of this entry at all! So I've got a billion pictures but I'm chronically lazy, so in spite of my desire to chronicle my adventures in excruciating detail and sub-par photography, especially because I'm having the time of my life, I'm afraid having the time of your life eats into your chronicling time, so this is going to have to do-



( WHAT I DID OVER SUMMER: A SUMMERY SUMMARY )

Right-o, now I'm off to return to being sickly and unproductive. Sweet!

Okay, really you know what the worst idea in the world is? To start packing at midnight when your flight's at six in the morning. Oh god, take my word for it, not fun and mostly terrifying. So I'm to Cambodia for a bit, mainly to see the Angkor Wat before it falls to pieces, on a bit of a whim really. And while yes, taking a passing fancy and running with it seemed like a good idea at the time (you only feel young and therefore invincible once, and only so often do you have money especially then), perhaps running off with a boy not even two months into a relationship to an exotic foreign locale may be a mite too ridiculous for even me.

Ha ha ha, oh god how terrifying, what is it I'm doing (packing too late, for one, and finding myself much further in much faster than I had anticipated), and it's entirely my doing, but at the very least I can't say it's not keeping things exciting, eh?

(Although, next time a bit less terror would be nice and probably better advised. But oh god, I really can't remember the last time I had this exhilarating a mix of terror and excitement!)

I think for me livejournalling is a bit like upping personal vegetable intake or exercise or trying to change the world - great and noble plans that never happen because I am but a weak, weak person, distracted by shiny things and general laziness, and occasionally things of excitement and import, but mostly laziness. I had wanted to post about several things before I ran off to Taiwan, mainly related to my birthday and internships and bizarre relationship developments that I could neither fathom nor acknowledge, but instead here I am, a couple of months on distinctly not posting pictures or updating adequately, certifiably older, back from Taiwan and almost done with internships, and everything I meant to register various sentiments for have waged past me rather huffily.

So I find myself here, on my last week of internship (seven weeks are seven weeks too many), counting down to the end as assiduously as I trawl facebook. I also find myself having gone beyond accidentally acquiring a bit of a boyfriend - I seem to be almost a month into a (dare I say it?) relationship, oho!, which is rather disconcerting really but often hilarious, though that's nothing in comparison to the long-distance hilarity that may sneak up on me when I'm distracted by muffins (a situation that one often finds oneself in and impossible to get out of, in reference to baked wonderment).

I suppose I ought to say something about the boy, given the rich comic history that predates my late adolescence, and/or that the boy was sort of technically my first half of a boyfriend, or perhaps that now we're seeing a bit of a renaissance as it were, or that really this is what this entry's really about, being a month into something that was a bit of an open joke really (that I was a little more serious about in my occasional private moments when I was a little less caked in denial and appalled at the mere suggestion of any semblance of association). But honestly speaking I don't know what's going on there either, but I do know that the boy is crazy over me and I could make him happy and I find myself wanting to, and I do believe that counts for something (despite what my friends may tell you, no, my affections were not bought solely with a bass guitar!), and much besides I'm honestly too busy having an absolute riot to give this further thought. So here let me put off things a bit longer, and make plans to run off to Cambodia for a spell, and before you know it I could be back with pictures (what, it could happen!).

So what I've found myself doing (and avoiding) constantly over the past few days is mortgages. I kid you not. I never thought it would come to this.

Needless to say life has been a ball, which isn't entirely untrue, because Halloween came and went, and that was suitably exciting and pictorial! However that has passed, and all I'm left with is the day-to-day drudgery. Oh, something exciting though, apropos to the current Obama-rama, my favourite law prof taught while he was at school, and was apparently pretty close to Obama's homies. Which is fairly cool, but then again this is the prof who's met Tom Cruise, who's had three students of his go on to become the presidents of their respective countries, so it's probably not that big a deal in his book. Anyway, apparently young!Obama managed the Harvard Law Review swimmingly, had this quiet dignity about him and everyone respected him. Okay yeah so I was hoping for something a little more scandalous from an insider's take, but oh well, this will have to do.

As usual I'm way behind, in school and in updating, and especially in posting pictures (Bake My Day pictorials have been languishing sadly), but I hope to rectify that, in the manner that people generally hope for world peace. Soon there shall be Halloween pictorials, but first, a bit more day-to-day drudgery. So I've recently severed a boyfriendly appendage from my life, and everyone's been asking how I'm doing so this is how I'm doing: I'm alright and adjusting. It's strange and awful, cutting out the most significant part of your life, so right now I'm just trying to figure out what I should do next, and how to stay friends with Fong without having the undead monster of our romantic entanglements rearing its ugly head (it's not so much the romantic entanglements that were ugly, so much as his reaction to said entanglements and his inability to emote or deal with anything, or think about things, and how emotionally-sapping those disabilities were for me). Because he's hilarious and great (even if screwed up, with a penchant for being awful), and I want him around fairly regularly, because he's been my nearest and dearest for almost two years and I don't want that to stop? Well I'll keep you posted, at any rate I'm pretty good, even if adjusting.

Wow I've got mortgages to do (boo), so I shall leave you with something significantly less terrifying - ( a Halloween preview. )

Today I broke up with the only boy I've ever wanted; he was my world and now he's not.

I loved him more than anything else in the world, I would have done anything within my means for him (and I did), I wanted to build my life around him, he made me ludicrously happy so much so that I thought that it could go on indefinitely and that made me even happier. Well I was mistaken, clearly, but I don't mind. He was, to all intents and purposes, the One, and I don't think it will ever stop being that way which is why I am likely to die alone but I think that's okay too, why mess with the grand scheme of things?

I don't think I'm ready to talk about it, please don't ask. When I'm ready to talk about it, don't ask either, because I highly doubt that I would actively want to talk about it, so just err on the side of caution and make like this never happened.

I'm going off either to pass out (which sounds divine), cry until I pass out (less divine), write that paper I have due on Sunday (urk!) or bake (my one constant, my true love). In any case I'll be alright, don't worry about me. Right now I'm more hungry than anything else, and as long as I still want to eat things I think I'm doing okay.

I think I need to pack my room, because I had promised myself I would, the same way I vowed to stop camwhoring and look where that ended up (on the bright side, since losing my battery charger, my vain designs have been thwarted somewhat, along with the Chinese New Year weight [OH ERK MY VAST EXPANSE OF GUT ;_;] but during the visitations this was something awful because I had the cutest cheongsam and no pictures of me in it ;_;). Chinese New Year was warm and boyfriended, and highly profitable for said extension since he acquired a little over a hundred bucks by virtue of his presence, and now oh god with the bloat and the Shakespearean tragedy. I used to have adventures to recount, pictorically and with great histrionics, but of late the daily drama consists of work at my boyfriend's mother's clinc (which isn't dramatic at all because I bum about, register patients and dispense, and get paid pretty damn well doing it) and then hanging out with the boy, for whom I must come up with a more exciting name, surely (LOVERBOY is a hilarious title but only when it's not your relationship, as is say, HOT HUNK OF MANLYNESS or DISHY MANCANDY, and Fuck Friend, while cute, doesn't quite brace). And while life has never been better it's not exactly cinematic when recounted, for it is functional and surprising, and to go on at length about it just degenerates into a pile of sap and sex and waaaay too much information (ask my friends, they'll tell you!). But really, room-packing, so I can redecorate; my incredibly sexy Snoopy bedsheets are becoming increasingly embarrassing, and I might as well deploy my boyfriendly resources because I'm all about abusing positions (like I said, TMI TMI, ahaha).



JILLY, ILU FOR PICTURE-TAKING THOUGH WE DISGUST YOU. HAHAHA MAYBE WE'LL NAME ALL OUR CHILDREN AFTER YOU. YOU CAN BE ALL THEIR GODMOTHERS, WAHA. AND WE CAN LIVE IN YOUR HOUSE!

Kay, so everyone is like "HOMG PICTURE!" and now I've got one, courtesy of Andrea, and really it's about bloody time. It was so cutesy it made me a little sick, double-dating with andreaphobia and her man-fleshcandy (who so happens to be my boyfriend's really good friend from way back when, aw isn't it cute, Jan, An(drea), Fong, Hong EGAD oh look BFFS that rhyme dating) in a fifties diner, with the red leather and checked surfaces and milkshakes with ABBA playing in the background, eh Pop put it on the tab WTF LOL. We had been with other people, namely Shimona (premiumlarge, JYo, and Conan (see how DotA brings people together!) but eventually they got so sick of us they left and frankly I don't at all blame them. Good god, we're unreal. Anyway so Andrea's person gets this lovely glaze in his eyes when he looks at her, they are so cute and happy etc etc awwww (seriously though if I could stop laughing so hard at her I'd find that really I'm laughing with her at the sheer felicity of the situation), and our friends hang out with our friends' friends' since we all get on so it feels a lot like the Beach Boys and how Wouldn't It Be Nice.

My entire family is suitably amused by the girly deal, and even more amused by the boy-girly deal, and is constantly laughing at me for it. While I was putting on my face today my mom relented a little and told me "I wish I had had half your confidence at your age" which is really something, because it has been established that were we contemporaries she wouldn't like me at all, since I'm loud, rash and inappropriate and she would have preferred someone less volatile and more daughterly on most days.

I don't want to be one of those people who cry "oooh, love interest!" and then proceed to promptly drop everything and float off on their ingratiatingly happy cloud of couple-dom, so on on into the sunset, and I do want to livejournal about something else but I suppose this is significant and is thus livejournalled about like so. Well today it occurred to me that I've more at stake than I had previously anticipated, you know, with my penchant towards ruining boys and my strange ability to get over things nigh instantaneously, but it does seem that I am a little more involved in this than I had let catch on. Which is to say, Dear World, I may be in love, I do think. Oh dear.

So today my boyfriend (ZOMG!) met my parents, right, and I figured it would be fine because obviously they would love him and stuff, but holy fuck, how is it that he's so smooth, so charming, so suave, and WHY THE FUCK IS HE GOING OUT WITH ME?!

No no, like get this. He brought two white roses and gave one to me AND THE OTHER TO MY MOTHER before KISSING HER ON THE CHEEK? I think at that point my mother died, and when she recovered she said she felt stressed for him, because he was so polite and so suave and opening doors and giving flowers, and went on about how mature he was and how decent and frank and sincere etc etc. LOL my dad was like "He could be on manhunt" (I SHIT YOU NOT) and my kid brother was so appalled at how polite he is. LOL my brother's best friend, upon hearing my mom freak out in the best of ways after, was all "What planet is he from? Krypton?", and my brother was like "If all guys were like him, in a hundred years women will have evolved tiny T-rex arms".

LOL I GUESS IT WENT WELL, ONLY OH MY FUCK I THINK MY PARENTS LOVE HIM MORE THAN THEY LOVE ME, AND OH MY GOD HOW SERIOUSLY FUCKING OUT OF MY LEAGUE AM I DATING WITH MY IMPROPRIETY AND DOODY JOKES AND GENERAL LACK OF CLASS AND SOCIAL GRACE I SWEAR LIKE A SAILOR AND I CAN BURP THE ALPHABET I AM SO ASHAMED. Unless I magically turn into Natalie Portman in a family-friendly, all song and dance affair over the next week I will not be prepared for meet-the-parents, and oh my fuck this boy is for real, oh my fuck I don't believe in karma because holy fuck how did I get so lucky?

Well today Sam Karen and I were supposed to meet up for coffee, so we did and I brought the boy, exciting chronicled by Sam herein. When I got home my dad, suitably pleased with how funny he is, asked me how it went.

Dad: Did he like your friends?
Me: Uh yes.
Dad: Did your friends like him?
Me: Yes.
Dad: My, what a wonderful world (!).

Ahaha. With such comic genius, as witnessed above, when he meets parentals properly tomorrow it's bound to be a real riot, a bag of laughs and a half, etc etc.

I do suppose, you know, real life of late warrants an entry all things considering, especially given the rather exciting turn of events that is sort of really time-consuming as well. What mostly has happened is how there is a boy and we're sort of going out, but that's not even half of it. We're chaste and going out and decidedly not making out, which no one who knows either of us actually believes but it's not like we make up that sort of thing (as much as it would be a laugh, I admit). In all seriousness we sit about all these dark private places like by the Esplanade at three in the morning or in my room after midnight with the doors locked and we talk - what's really funny is that when we first met we couldn't stop talking between comics and movies and everything in between, but after going out conversation seemed to be less definite, the way annoying couples-y people would answer following enquiry, "Why, there's nothing we don't talk about". What's also funny (apart from the not making out, because shit that takes such resolve I'm frankly really impressed with myself - everyone's advice, which I would ordinarily ignore seems to be to take things slow) is how when asked about it there's really nothing much that can be said apart from "You'd like him, you should meet him" and that's that.

You'd like him, you should meet him, and that's why I'd like to think I'm capable of a functional relationship, because in all seriousness if I can't make it with him I'm pretty sure I can't make it with anyone, and that would pretty much suck.

A couple of days back in a bookstore:
Zavier: Jan, that CJ boy checked you out!
Me: OMG SERIOUSLY? WHERE WHERE I DIDN'T SEE
Zavier: Over there, but not worth looking at. I know because I was checking him out.

Seriously, what would I do without my fabulous gay man-friends? You are all FABULOUS.


I dramatise and exaggerate the way people breathe, but in truth there is no place I would rather be, all things considered. And I say all things considered as if I've lived through several wars, having lost the use of my legs in the process, and am currently supporting my similarly invalid family by selling the rest the few still functioning body parts I have on my being on the street, but that's not it at all, because there is no place I would rather be because of all things considered rather than in spite of - there's nothing and no one I would rather be, there's no one I would rather surround myself with than the people I love now, and even what gets me down in the slightest respect I honestly couldn't wish for a better rain on my parade, whatever it may be from day to day.

I spent my day down at the National Library reading since my Lit papers are coming up, and god you know, every once in a while I am struck with this fierce affection for life, not in the disgusting wide-eyed happy sunshine girl sense, but more like a inspirational connection with humanity and the greater cosmic order sort of deal ahahaha. No I'm kidding, but in all seriousness there's so much that excites me (also partly because I'm a drama queen, but getting away from that and to the Universal Human Condition) it's slightly overwhelming in the best way possible how much there is to be done at every moment, and even if you've got absolutely nothing tangible going on for you goddamn, there's no reason for woe and violins, much less if your lot is somewhere in between fscking amazing and godawful like most; While I was there this old guy sat in the reference library all day reading The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde and that made me remarkably happy, as did the reading list I compiled and all these things I never knew until just. Actually in truth it's just been far too long since I've sat down and read because I'm a bit of a moron, but really there's so much going on for humanity as a whole if went out alone and found things to like about life (like the new advertisment to encourage people to report suspiscious objects showing at MRTs, which is full of great drama and an Important Message, oh yes).

Also, Gay Bar played twice on random play all (out of 3872389472384723 million tracks, what are the chances?), which can only mean that life is generally awesome. And on the way home walking through the MRT station The Shins' New Slang came on, and it dawned on me that as much as my life is sometimes a bit of a cosmic joke it is kind, though it may take a while to come around, for long ago there was a boy who sang along for a bit there was nothing more in the world I could ask for and if it is possible to experience that sort of perfection for even a single moment out of say, eighteen years of being alive rather unremarkably, how can you possibly say you've got nothing going for you, as fashionable as your melancholy (or exam-related angst, anguish of uncertainty or terror of the future, whatever you want) may seem?

---
Brian Friel's Dancing at Lughanasa

"And what is so strange about that memory is that everybody seems to have been floating on those sweet sounds, moving rhythmically, languorously, in complete isolation; responding more to the mood of the music than to its beat. When I remember it, I think of it as dancing. Dancing with eyes half closed because to open them would break the spell. Dancing as if language had surrendered to the moment - as if this ritual, this wordless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness. Dancing as if the very heart of life and all its hopes might be found in those assuaging notes and those hushed rhythms and in those silent and hypnotic movements. Dancing as if language no longer existed because words were no longer necessary."

I was tagged by andreaphobia sometime last week, whereupon her lists of ideals in a perfect personage depressed and distressed me so I put it off until now. Okay, I'm a filthy liar (which is why I'm going to end up all sad and alone), really I've tried to not be online so I could study instead but um well, it's not going very well, so obviously by dwelling upon firstly, the lack of love in my current situation, and second, the physical impossibility of such an individual being on the same continent as me I'm going to make myself feel better about things. Oh Janice, you're always full of bright ideas - you're better off finishing your Burmese pre-war nationalism notes but aren't you feeling particularly self-loathing today?

EIGHT THINGS IN A PERFECT PERSON
(and because I'm a stupid straight girl, I expect to find these all in one boy, though if you know a couple of boys that could cover most of the list together hey, I'm very open-minded [which is different from whorish. For real!]heh)

01.You know this isn't the most important thing, not at all, but I would like someone I can push up against things and make out with at any given moment, so for that sort of thing I do require someone not incredibly tall. Average-heighted, I mean. Because have you met me, and do you realise in all likelihood I come up to your knees? Not convenient, nope. Oh but that sort of thing is easily got past, and I've been able to make do, but right about now the most striking thing would be that - someone I can take advantage of without using stilts, because I'm not into the carnie kink at all, really. And I do not say this because I am a whore, but because my getting over it (which was going incredibly well, thank you very much) was set back a fair bit by hanging out with Gerald, a right asshole, really, where supplying me with very cute anecdotes? Not helping at all, k thx. And uh, anyone who wants to mention how certain heights have advantages, heh heh? Yeah heard that one, over and over. I get it, and that's below me.

02. Cute. Cute as hell. Failing that ridiculously hot. Yeah I'm feeling kind of shallow today, but you know if you're going to be waking up to someone for a while, it's hardly a good thing if you fall out of bed crying every morning, you know.

03. I want someone amusing, and by that I don't mean laughing to myself in disbelief ("My god! How is this? I don't understand! How can boys be this stupid, hahahaha") I mean genuinely funny, and it's okay if he's not as long as he doesn't try to be. But someone who entertains me some of the time, and for the rest of it doesn't pretend he's comic genius every fucking moment. It's no good that you find yourself more introspective when you're out with him, compiling reading lists and trying to recall the last economic theory I failed to grasp in the classroom.

04. Speaking of, I want someone effortless. Not like phwoar, look at me, or don't, whatever, but I don't take points off if he looks pretty moving like so, but unpretentious, you know? I mean shit, let's not sit about and make like we're talking about important issues, and talk about movies and music like thematically, philosophising and shit. I mean yeah it's important to talk about things that really matter sometimes, but let's not get in deep for the sake of it, in an attempt to be intellectual, because I can, you know, read. I want someone who goes with it, if we so happen to chance upon something deeply profound kay right, and if we are just sitting about wasting our respective youths away with doody jokes that's cool too. I don't buy into that shit about "oh, we love each other so much that we don't need to talk when we're together, we just bask in each other's presence" because that just means holy hell you lot are boring, obviously things will be said with substantial frequency (given how I just keep going), but they don't always have to be consequential or easy to recall.

05. Also, someone who knows what he wants, because if I wanted submission I would would date a girl. And you know I like when guys I like like me, but I do not like when guys I like like me to the extent I stop liking them because that can get annoying, which has happened far too often. I'm not looking to save anyone here - if we're collectively and mutually exciting then great, but if meeting me is all life-changing and shit in a positive way, then honey, you've got to get out of the house more and meet actual girls. Ideally, more than two.

06. It would also be good if we have a couple of things in common. Not in an all-encompassing, ZOMG SOULMATES sense, because I've got girl friends for that, and if we're too alike I'll probably do that ridiculous girl thing where I know you too well to date you and that's all sorts of tragic. I mean as long as we're similar enough to have stuff to talk about or do, I'm good. I'm all for doing new things and conversion, so as long as we're on roughly the same wavelength, we'll be ok.

07. NO TO RELIGIOUS HANG-UPS. Because I have principles! Anyway my mind is a gutter, and I just can't handle the chaste-bunny sort. I have to be dating someone who thinks about sex just as much or more than me, I mean by definition as a boy and everything, you know? At the same time I don't think I'm comfortable with people who eat babies/virgins/seals for religious purposes, so anywhere in between ascetism and the worship of Beelzebub is fine by me. I mean, moderation, people!

08. While I'm being escapist I might as well go all the way - on some nights, simultaneously momentuous and inconsequential, where the air is warm and easy, and all you need is the clothes on your back and the road ahead of you, and someone to relieve you of both as they see fit I want said company, for wherever you're left at daybreak is exactly where you want to be.

Hahaha okay I might have gotten a little carried away, and said list makes me sound just a little bit picky and delusional, but really all I want is someone entertaining and that's mostly it. Though the rest helps a fair bit, yeah. OH GOD HOW POINTLESS WAS THIS, ULTIMATELY I'LL BE LEFT ALONE, UNLOVED, AND DOING HISTORY NOTES EARLY INTO THE MORNING. It seems it's just you and me then, pre-war Burma: come on baby, let's get down and dirrty.

burning hotels down says:
GOD. i wish every time we fancied somebody, we knew the exact chances of them liking us back.
like SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT.
FIFTEEN PERCENT.
etc.
and that we'd know what exactly we had to do to have them reciprocate.
because GOD KNOWS i would do anything to have that stupid, stupid boy like me.

january says:
They should pass around lists, you know, so everyone will know exactly where they stand and it would be so much easier.

burning hotels down says:
i would do ANYTHING to have that stupid boy take advantage of me and steal all my money.
exactly! everyone should be more open about this sort of thing.
and honestly i hate all couples VEHEMENTLY, why do you like each other mutually why why why

january says:
when you meet someone you should just rattle off a percentage. "Hi I'm Janice, nice to meet you, 65%."

burning hotels down says:
ahahah.
and reveal what they'd need to do to gain your affections upon further enquiry.

january says:
yes. "1.2% all the money in the world."

burning hotels down says:
though it would be sort of sad, in a sense. if i went 'Hi I'm Des, nice to meet you, 99%.' and he said 'uh yeah 1%'

---

In other news, still in love with boy (grack!), prelims ohohoho funny and not over yet, though really I must do something about academic things if I don't want to be a huge failure as I am wont to do, and yes, it is true, aulait and I are very tragic people indeed. A couple of days back I felt obligated to leave the interweb entirely, and clearly that's working out just great for me ehh.

Why, I've had Travis' Love Will Come Through stuck in my head all day, and while there is a significant part of me that goes "It must be fate! It is a sign! Our love is written in the stars!" etc etc, the rest of me sighs a Love-Of-My-Life sigh and thinks about my wasted heart, oh. On the bright side, I've procured his yearbook from sec 2 and AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I AM KILLED DEAD I AM KILLED DEAD OH MY GOD! I don't know how I'm going to face him in school and not fall over myself laughing because I'll picture that hilarious terrifying mass of tragedy (the tiny brown shorts certainly do not help) in place of the beautous countenance of present day and therefore cement my place as a FREAK OF NATURE in his head and heart. Oh, life! Apparently even my father has more fate with the love of my life, oh god let's talk embarrassing, where everyone seems to play pool at the same place and the boy has tried to leech a game off my father (da punch, it's called, where the loser pays) to no avail because my father likely thought Boy a gangster (a pai kia, while we're being all colloquial), and he's half-right.

Away from Matters of the Heart, I had Biwen over yester-yesterday and she was suitably impressed by my mother and her selfless motherly affection.

Mother: (from the kitchen) Do you want some avocado cream?
(at this point, my heart swells with love for the maternal unit, because damn man, that's something)
Brother: Yes, please.
Mother: That's good. Go make it yourself.

aerocranes once commented that my mom shouldn't be allowed to mother, especially after giving my kid brother the nickname "Rotundo" (BEST NICKNAME IN THE WORLD I SWEAR) and I don't disagree. Also, she keeps sitting me down and talking to me about boys. "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" she asks, and then goes on the qualify that by bringing up the ex-boy and laughing sadly out of pity for said sufferer, while yes that is justified and I'm only a catastrophe as a girl, but STILL IT IS NOT NICE. AND IT IS A SELF-DEFEATING QUESTION, so it's asked out of PURE MALICIOUSNESS AND NEED FOR ENTERTAINMENT.

What I'm going to do is I'm going to go go out with a triad leader or something JUST TO SPITE HER. Haha, that's awfully convenient isn't it, how the Boy is really a gangster (only not really)? What are the chances, you know? It must be fate! :( OH WOE.

On the studying side, NOTHING IS BEING DONE. Here I am with pockets full of good intentions, but oh well what can you do.

So everyone and their grandmothers (mine, at least, who kept trying to pray over me while I was on the phone talking to people about said cryptic important things when she visited) wants to know what went down, but alas I am shifty and a horrible person so the public will know no such thing. I mean, Christ, people from school read this so obviously I want
everyone to know about my sexcapades ahaha I'm just being really obnoxious and milking this for what it's worth, aren't I? But find me on MSN (aestival@gmail.com) and I might tell you, since it's only the best thing that's ever happened to me, in all seriousness, and I'll be taking a while to deal with the onslaught of reality and it's banality oh dear god what am I going to do. But anyway, here's what Friday was like, with pictures.

( Hot damn, they don't make them like that over here! )

Yesterday was seven sorts of magical, but no one's going to believe me because that sort of thing doesn't actually happen in real life, and besides it's a little embarrassing anyway - it's not really the sort of thing you would want on a public entry, ooh isn't this scandalous? And that's all I'm saying about it, except it was the sort of thing that you wouldn't believe in a movie and especially not in your life, the sort of thing that is soundtracked perfectly and everything is just so unbelievably in place.

I went to Baybeats and fell in love, absolutely unabashedly in love. I mean, in comparison with the inordinate amount of affection I felt for the frontman of the Velvet Teen when elliciting a very sad response to "How are you doing, Singapore?" replied with "FUCK YOU", be still my heart.

But this person I'm in love with? He's a bassist a bassist a bassist and he's perfect in every way. With this floppy hair and a faint awkwardness rockstars never have, and then with his immaculate cuteness oh I am in love. I mean his band was alright but goddamn you know, they were beyond good-looking and it was dance-y so it was great, and yeah okay I didn't actually know his name but I love him so! A quick google finds his name to be Shernon Hague, which is just adorable because it explains why when I asked what he was writing while he signed my arm he looked a little strange and said how it was half of his first name and half of his last, and I am killed dead. I was there with everyone which I would eljay about in detail were I less enarmoured, but the point is when photographs were being taken he had his ARM AROUND MY SHOULDER, OH YES. See here, look how disgusting and happy I am, clutching his hand ahahahaha.



So that's everyone in the world and then the floppy haired boy of my heart with a far-away look, Gaiatri, and then an obscenely happy Janice at the extreme right. He's not exactly photogenic but I love him oh yes, and I so much wanted to say something forward but I was struck with the most acute inability to function, apart from the grinning. I tried to find him after but I couldn't because my life is sad, so I felt pretty poo-like for the rest of the night BUT I SHALL SEE HIM FRIDAY FOR HE IS PLAYING AT A CLUB I'VE ACTUALLY BEEN TO, oh my god! And you know you might think "Pffft Janice, that's so typical, falling for the charismatic rocker all charming and having sex all over the place" but you're wrong you're WRONG. I mean fuck, he's into travelling and film and the Beatles and he's so unassuming this, this is the boy for me.

I don't know, I'm trying this thing where I'm less socially-inept; Today I talked to this kid on the MRT for a couple of stops, who was named Amos and went to special school and had an absolutely adorable three-month-old brother. I don't know what it is about speaking to people you don't actually know, but it's empowering isn't it, and you figure if you have the courage to smile at random people well you can smile at anyone right?

Well this doesn't actually work because I got off the train and saw this boy from school I'm only completely mad for (ahahaha I have to tell everyone about his birthday for which I blew most of my week's allowance, which was worthwhile just for the look of abject horror on his face when I presented him with it) and I tried so hard to be cool you know, you've spent a couple of hours out with a complete stranger and for a bit her friends and then you've done the friendly, conversational commuter thing with kids and their families and you've dealt with silences, the Dandy Warhols say you're godless so really you can do this you can look in his general direction in off-hand recognition and maybe you can smile only no that doesn't quite work and I end up walking by really fast and simultaneously wanting to curl up and die and turn back for a second look.

So uh what I want to do is to be less awkward in general, to not look away and to maybe work my way up to hazarding a smile once in a while, 'cos maybe that would be nice, you know, and at some point in time I want to be able to approach people for pictures or general conversation but you know in part I just really want to speak to the boy in question and maybe that's what this, all this, is about.

So there's a boy in school. Actually my school has several boys in varying degrees of unattractiveness, so I would figure in comparison, especially, and on its own, that this is significant.

Said boy is intriguing, to say the least, and I am probably more than slightly enarmoured. I might go as far as saying I am marginally afflicted, for that is the nature of these things. Said boy is attractive, yes, but entirely unremarkable, to the point where three months back I noticed him, went "Oh that boy's pretty cute but my god he's uninteresting" and from that day forth he was known as Uninteresting Boy because that's what he is. Yet he moves ("Pornily!" Sam declares, and there is truth in that though that sounds all wrong, but I was looking for something a little less exploitative and generally better sounding) like he justifies the attention of anyone who is looking with this effortless deliberation like he's only just walked off a artsy photoshoot involving maybe an outrageous costumed mascot and managed to pull that off which isn't what I mean at all really but it's difficult to put down exactly apart from saying "Um he moves nicely I like the way he moves", because yes um he moves nicely I like the way he moves.

Also, his ambivalence is almost compelling, the way first off the only thing that strikes you about him is how he is utterly unremarkable (hot, you grant, but uninteresting), yet he moves like he has a secret life of a j-rocker and on that count alone it's anything but unremarkable, and then he waltzes into three-hour essay examinations bearing just one (and probably the same) pen, so how does that work out really? His apparent, rather attractive resolution between the two polarities is just inexplicable and has to imply depth, and enigmas are always always appealing. I mean to say he has that sine qua non and that's all that needs to be said, really.

There's this poetic sensibility in speaking of said boy due to the nature of things, and perhaps part of me is too amused by its incongruency. The other part of me just really really likes the way he moves.