calendar girl
If I am lost for a day; try and find me
But if I don’t come back, then I won’t look behind me
All of the things that I thought were so easy
Just got harder and harder each day
December is the darkest and June is the light but this empty bedroom won’t make anything right
While out on the landing a friend I forgot to send home
Who waits up for me all through the night
Calendar girl whos in love with the world Stay alive
I dreamed I was dying; as I so often do
And when I awoke I was sure it was true
I ran to the window; threw my head to the sky
And said whoever is up there,please don’t let me die
But I can’t live forever,I can’t always breath
One day I’ll be sand on a beach by a sea
The pages keep turning, I’ll mark off each day with a cross
And I’ll laugh about all that we’ve lost
Calendar Girl who is lost to the world stay alive
January,February,March,April,May I’m alive
June,July,August,September,October I’m alive
November,December,yah all through the winter, I’m alive, I’m alive
— Stars
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mornings
it’s mornings like this that i treasure- sitting alone in the library, staring through the thick glass windows at the greens and bright yellows of campus green. watching the cars and traffic roll pass, the leaves gently bristly in the breeze, but being insulated from all the surroundings, the noise, sounds sight and smell.
it’s quiet in here, at least for now (save for the zapping of the photocopying machine and the occasional typing of the keyboards). silence has become so rare in life lately.
it’s mornings like this that i love. when you feel safe, insulated from the world outside, and there’s no one to disturb the peace, however momentary and brief.
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school is well into its third week. the horror! or what dear mr glenn wharton taught me in spanish class, que horror!! which i always found very hilarious and will never forget the mock-horrified expression he pulled (imagine, 50ish man with albert einstein-like hair) while saying that.
To negate the bad karma points of unhappiness and unproductive emo-ness for the past week, i will begin this week with some happy photos of summer adventures!
August kind of screamed Red&White- what with jo’s rednwhite themed birthday party and of course, dear Singapore’s 42nd birthday. August is full of birthdays innit.
ok i got tired of uploading photos. school has officially tired me out (it’s monday only), and i’ve just retreated to the nice warm fuzzy-feelings comfort of my rooom. the rents and family have all gone and left me alone in Singapore while they soak up the heat of the Californian sun. meh. but no complains, new york new york here i come in december.
conversations with random people over the past few weeks have only served to reinforce what i’ve always suspected all along- that singaporeans (as a society) are innately poseur, have this inferiority-complex that stems from being a small puny country with no natural resources (yadayada, gahmen’s common strand of rhetoric, no?), also very boringly copy-cat (singapore eye what?!), want to be the best at everything thus resulting in jack-of-all-trades, master of none syndrome.
all the above has been buzzing in my head constantly and annoyingly too, so much so that my answer to everything lately has been- singapore sucks! which is unfair, unkind, ungrateful and unmature (for alliterations sake ok. i know it’s immature), i know- just let me be childish for once?
right. i think, that’s enough singapore-bashing for awhile. i shall throw myself, heart and soul, into reading sept’s yummy issue of Vogue now, and forget about the world around me for a moment.
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untitled and empty
you know there’s something wrong when every song on itunes sounds sad. even the pipettes. sudden bursts of tears with no apparent reason. you try to fix and patch things, or pretend there’s nothing wrong, when in fact- everything around you is broken and for the first time, you see it all at once.
Let us be lovers we’ll marry our fortunes together
I’ve got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner’s pies
And we walked off to look for America
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starbucks adventures
it all started like this:
I lose my waterbottle at work, and demand the boyfriend to buy me a mug to drink out of at work. One of those huge mugs people use at work. We wanted to get either starbucks mugs, or nice funky ones. However, nice funky ones are not easily available at last minute notice. Hence, we walked around a few starbucks, only to find rather limited, small, not-very-nice mugs. Hey, what happened to selling the classic big starbucks mugs? Do you sell those mugs, miss? We asked politely, pointing to the mugs they serve their customers with.
No, was the answer. Alas, disappointed but not beaten, we found a way out in the end.
Us with our mugs- and we lived happily ever after. The end.
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tea breaks and bylines
You know it’s ground-breaking news when one of your editors (at a serious business paper, mind you) tells a senior correspondent to flip channels to tune in to the paris hilton-larry king interview on CNN. So there was the group of us, young and old, male and female gathered around the TV in the newsroom, eyes glued intently at the TV watching the plastic blonde doll act demure and all serious with Larry King. Larry was obviously bored with her inane comments. I know i was.
This might sound a little strange, but I think i really am beginning to enjoy this whole journalism thing- more so than I did a few weeks ago, although I hope this has nothing to do with our ridiculous routine of tea breaks and lunch breaks. Read: 11am reach work, 12pm go up for tea break which inevitably turns to lunch. 1-ish, back to serious work now. maybe 4 or 5ish, another tea break again. In our defense tea breaks have been very educational, for example we were discussing reverse take overs yesterday, single-source stories the day before, and ridiculous PR people and how to handle them before that. All in the name of enriching our journalistic experiences.
Ok, but seriously I think I am beginning to love this, not just like it- the chasing stories, questioning people (license to be nosey), reading analyst reports (my favourite morning activity), upsetting poor PR folks somewhere along the way (oops), the thrill of writing stories that cause share price movement.
Dare I say it. Sometimes the fleeting thought occurs to me- if only I could do this instead of going back to school. Stay in the newsroom environment instead of humdrum school with nonsense syllabuses and even more nonsense classmates. who obviously don’t read very often and/or can’t really write. I will miss this place when i’m gone.
On a separate note, I think i’m only beginning to understand what mothers must feel like when their children leave for some unknown adventure alone. This is a completely different situation- i am no mother. But i’ve a feeling my heart won’t rest as easily tomorrow, I’ll be checking my phone every hour or so wondering why the time is passing so slowly, wondering when the assuring txt msg will be coming in and getting all paranoid when it doesn’t.
I can’t wait till i’m back in your arms again tomorrow night.
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to write or not to write
once upon a time, even before i was a not-so-teeny tween, I found my love for writing and words- which was very much connected to my greater and older love for making up fantastical things in my head. Then somewhere along the twisty winding road of growing up, it got (unwittingly or not) buried and forgotten. You hear too much talk of practicality and reality, earning a good safe keep, and being a filial obedient daughter. But if there’s one thing i noticed in my soon-to-be 21 years on earth, God takes you in circles and sometimes and you end up right where you started.
So here I am, in a newsroom when it wasnt too long ago that a journalistic career was merely a fleeting fancy idea i toyed with in my head. yes, i did once want to be a war correspondent, which freaked my parents out enough that the idea lasted no longer than a few months in my head and was quickly relegated to my “haha yea right dream jobs” list, taking its place amongst “spy”, “FBI criminal profiler”, “F1 race engineer”.
Having now a slight taste of what journalism is like, I can’t yet say for sure if i want to do this for a career, or the rest of my life. The idea of it is fun- meeting interesting people, exciting events, being at the forefront of news, or just plain writing about something different and unusual- and it is fun. I used to day dream about how wonderful it must be to not just be a normal person receiving news and reading the daily newspaper in the morning sipping coffee, but actually being the one shaping the news, having the power to influence events, thoughts and people. I wanted to meet all these offbeat people- the rich and famous, the poor and forgotten; to travel the world in pursuit of bringing little known stories to readers. But of course there’s always the flip side, the long hours, self-censorship, not-so-exciting local news and scene, not-very-good pay etc.
You’ve got to love it to do it. I don’t know how much I could love it now, but like love, you can never really know for sure without taking some risk, closing your eyes and plunging in head first.
Here’s to our little dreams (:
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humour(less)
Something about my sense of humour must be changing. Either that or everyone else around me is getting really unsophisticated (sticks nose up in the air). kidding. But really, is it just me, or is Shrek 3 really not all that funny at all. Not only that, but Blades of Glory was somewhat of a letdown- especially after hearing that it was supposed to be hilarious. I feel just a twinge of sadness that Im left out on jokes when everyone else is happily laughing along. I feel abit like the old lady at a fancy social luncheon where everyone is half her age and laughing at something she doesn’t quite get. Hrm ): what happened to good old decline and fall humour. I thought infamous was really funny and i heart truman capote to death. But no one seems to be interested in a faggy queer writer from the 20s who talks and looks funny.
So anyway we decided to work off all the accumulated crispy prata and curry chicken suppers, pow sing dinners, crystal jade lunches and limonata cupcakes. Instead of sitting around watching dvds like usual- we went running!
that was pre-run. You don’t really want to know how we look like post-run. suffice to say it was very tak glam. However, our spanish-like late dinner after the run coupled with the limonata cupcake probably undid any calorie-burning from our short run.
i heart limonata cupcakes. that and fresh ice lemon tea from Toast makes me a very happy little girl (:
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I haven’t slept in almost 20 hours now. Does that sound bad? Im not quite sure. I think i may be slightly disturbed after sitting at the third row in a rather uncomfortable Lido theatre watching a nearly 3 hour long movie about a serial killer. It wasn’t a scary or even spooky show, but i guess somewhat chilling and just slightly disturbing. I attempted to read an article about the Zodiac killings, but seeing the pictures of two of his first victims stopped me dead in my tracks. I think i’ve always found it disturbing to see pictures of people who have died- especially the portrait-types.
Ok so this doesn’t help me to allay my disturbing straying thoughts about serial killers. I used to erm be fascinated with them at one point. Not that they aren’t still fascinating as hell, but I think I feel more discomfort instead of fascination now. There was a point in time, I think when i was 13 or so, when I had this hugeee fascination with serial killers and I read so much about all of the famous ones- Ted Bundy, Gein etc. All I wanted to be was a criminal profiler for the FBI! But then I found out that they only hire American citizens.
Ok, on to happier things.
This is one of my favouritest TV characters ever! He is so hilarious. Ari Gold! I applaud you for your uncharacteristically Jewishness and comic cussing ways! Really, you’ve got to watch him in action to know what I am talking about. I am happily downloading Entourage S3E20. hee. I’ve found a fellow entourage lover in the newsroom! hoorah.
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set yourself on fire 