Bottles of the rosé smell like Dolce and Gabbana

Deflation.
Exam is THAAAT exhausting, it sucks so much out from you but do you realize it gives you a lot in return too?

 

 

For the past 2 weeks I spent my every waking hours with friends, making smart conversation, telling embarrassing stories from the past, exchanging the vision of future, like how we are gonna mermaid-fy ourselves in the pool when exam is over.
And it's amusing to see your classmates plucking their hair out because they don't know if they should choose A over B, but C sounds like a correct answer too. C is a bitch.
You know some of them will be with you if you make a mistake. Especially when you scolded yourself for squandering your study time on FB, then you see a few friends of yours updated their statuses. *huuuuuuh,I'm not the only one.

Unlike those despair moment in clinic, you screw your ass over and you'll be there standing alone, covering your face from the dashing pieces of cruelty with one hand, wiping your tears with another hand.

A message from friend when I lost my head in the hills of notes, saying you can do it, this is what exam gave me.
A caring friend helped me to collect my lost memory of clinical features of submucosal fibrosis when I forgot about them, this is what exam gave me.
A friend called me out for fancy dinner amidst apexogenesis and apexification when I didn't have time for my clamouring stomach, this is what exam gave me.

Here is a tip for you if you have exam anytime soon,
DRESS UP NICELY!
Because in case you don't know the answer,
-looking good but stupid, it's 21th century;
-but looking like shit and stupid, the world will abandon you, I kid you not.

Never lose both at the same time, you can't afford that.

A good song is a good song

Simple like that.



I like how every song I listen to has a different part of me in it; I accidentally wired my feeling into the music, every now and then those familiar scent of feeling just pop out whenever I try to immobilise my fractured focus on hundred pages of words.
Too distracted to concentrate.

To fall in love in the city

Falu Red
I walk into the world map
try to dance with shine and glare
but you smudge my unfinished moves
with the stranger's stare

Gamboge
I breath so deep
just to whisper
my wishful thinking
into your folded skin

Fluorescent grey
I refuse your drunken sex
here is my brush
so paint me the shoes
to tiptoe back to my magic map

A poem for my heart

Because they will hunt it down
Want to see the blood red
drip
lick
fade

So I penned them a song
without lyrics

There is where I hide

Waiting for my individualism to shine

As a faithful procrastinator, I live up to my spirit. I gave this shit a go while trying to align all the dysplastic epithelial cells in a more socially acceptable form.

It's EXTREMELY true, I am quite independent of social relationships and very self-reliant.
"You therefore often give others the impression that you are arrogant or snobby - especially because you do not hesitate to speak your mind with your often harsh (even if justified) criticism and your imperturbable self-confidence."
Couldn't agree more mate!

I work alone. When I was in high school I always grabbed the group project firmly in my fists because I didn't think other members can write or draw better than I do. They can just sit back and watch me.
I publicly retorted command from my team captain because I didn't want to join the marching troop under the unbearable weather at 3pm. "You can do what you like but my dad never plan to spend this much money on me so that I can march like a soldier", then I walked out of the field.

When I joined BDS, I met so many awesome people I let them do the job while I sit back to watch.
May be I simply don't care about all those things anymore, I concentrate on my individual happiness, like my single room, my postcards, my drawing.
Having supper with bunch of people still irritates me much. They share stories of how other people screw up their life, laugh at long sentences (it will be too cruel and mean if i name them "joke"), and I can't remember the rest, I always zone out.

Lying on the water and staring into the blue dimension, it's my favourite moment in swimming pool. I don't want to know the disaster in clinic nor the new girlfriend of my classmate.
We're so caught up with the wrong passion. We basically don't feel anything anymore. When we're free we lay back and watch somebody else's emotion,and make them ours. Or pretend they are ours.

Please, be you, be the best version of you.

You be a bitch because you can.

So ashamed to admit this, but I have too many unhealthy theories in my mind. Like Bersih 3.0, they all are clamouring to make a way out to this world.

Saturday night has always been my favourite moment of the week. The idea of sipping on a cup of hot beverage and writing or drawing is very sexy; the process of achieving it with crusty Doughnut in my hand and Cranberries in my ears is simply divine. This is a rare moment when I'll let you slap my face if you're feeling upset because everyone in your class went for movie and never thought of inviting you.
Come hold my hands and join the cleansing breath!

Yesterday Peta and I had this conversation about..being liked. Be frank I have limited comprehension about the feeling of being liked, well given the history that people have been spreading rumours about me, you can't expect much from me. Probably you've heard from someone who is friend with someone who is friend with someone that I'm the stingy weirdo with Marfan Syndrome who refused to pay after hopping a ride to Malacca and complained about lecturer being too harsh on me because I'm a spoiled brat.
It never stop ever since I graduated from high school and stepped into foundation,till now. I never bother to explain.

Back to being liked, I can play nice too if I am after the lunch-with-my-gang-dinner-outside-AIMST routine. Up till tonight, I still enjoy dinner with myself, and with lots of potato in my plate.
Or let's think from a childish aspect, If I learn to be nice at this age, what am I going to do 20 years later? If I misbehave today, the worst that I would get is the poison of my teenage dream; but if I am not friendly when I get 40, I would be in serious shit.

If blogspot doesn't lie, then yesterday I had one new reader from Argentina. I am 23 years old and there is no conclusion for this entry, voila!

Rebel without a cause

"He is so arrogant!"
Not going to lie, I build my reputation on my...hauteur.
I don't say Hi or Bye or Thank you, unless you are my patients; I don't wish you Happy Birthday or Happy Braces-free Day; I will hate you if you approach and ask how is my day; I am not sorry for not being nice to people.

There is this girl who always apologize for, let's say, everything.
There is this boy who always smile and help people.
Sometimes I look at them, hesitating if I should pick up a thing or two from them.But I run away because they scare the hell out of me.
Champagne for girls who cut their heads bold.
All these years I grew up feeling..DECENT, I did my homeworks I finished every single rice in my plate I will be shy if you stared at my drawing for too long.
I like Miley Cyrus and Taylor Momsen, I respect their transformation from sweet princess to Gothic doll.
Ps, I like girl with husky voice and tanned skin, I think it's sexy.

Champagne for boys who ruin their guitars into million pieces.
Honestly I think human being is the biggest demon of all time, especially the smart philosophers. They are still able to control your mind although they are dead for centuries, yet bunch of people spend their life worshiping their wisdom and cleansing power.
You would probably say I'm not mentally healthy; I say this is a fraud of those insecure people who decided to make them the majority and get the power to judge.



Human being like power,some. I've seen this many times in chinese tv show. They work so damn hard and squeeze their life dry, just for the mere promotion and increased salary. The ancient princes killed their siblings for the throne, I asked Melvin why, he said " Everyone wants to be king and be powerful, don't you?"

Seriously?SERIOUSLY??

Self improvement is not the solution.

"What are you trying to prove? Doing all the things that you do, writing all the things that you write.."
Seriously,this is the most..(I wouldn't say stupid,but close enough) question ever.

You want an answer, I'll give you one.
I'm not trying to prove anything, I'm destroying everything. All this time I've been so well adjusted to all the luxuries and I've been so inured to all the colourful shits that people never stop throwing at me, 3.124 minutes ago I was still quite proud of my ability of self entertaining but what is really happening is I've stop growing.

 

Ten years of hostel experiences has always been my biggest achievement in life,but it's my biggest obstacle too. I was well trained to adapt myself in various situations. The secret is I always change the new, awkward environment into the old, familiar and cozy one. Never thought of seeking a new way out, never thought of getting a new blanket because I'm afraid I could not sleep at night if the smell of my baby blanket is gone and replaced by some shopping mall scent.

Sometimes it takes us a huge breath to make a small baby step; sometimes we can only afford to dream big because we don't want to lose all the things that we've worked hard for.

Self destruction is the new bitch in town, haven't you heard?

Put me in a movie

For years I've been wanting to find a new place, perhaps an apartment on 73th floor, room with transparent walls, where white collar slaves from opposite building can spy on your sleeping torso every morning and grumble on their miserable life.
Or desert, I will leave my footprints all over the mysterious place with my camel. Showering in the river and wear something made out of leaves while waiting for my clothes to dry.
Exhibitionist. Because I've got nothing to lose, except my teeth.

I grow up in bus.
Spending long hours in your own tiny yet secured dimension, my body never get much chances to move, gleefully my brain does. I composed lyrics for graduation songs in the bus;I maintained a static position and finish my novels in the bus;I cogitate about my life that has been warily planned out for me ever since I was born.

The plan is already there, the voices of your parents, so naked in your ear, it sucks on your rebellion and blossoms into a picture of your future in your mind. What are you trying to pull?
I'm looking for the last drop of my original destructive atom.

Sometimes they don't let you accelerate or slow down because they've already calculated every step meticulously, you obey and follow. In the end you don't know what's it like to be a grown up, hence you accessorize yourself with sophisticated gadgets, calling your balls man because you can demand your parents to buy things for you. What you don't know is, they have your balls in their fists, but they cover it with true love.

Society has trained you so well that you never get the opportunity to enjoy poking finger into your nostril in public, that's how you make the wrong decisions and bad friends. You never smell them properly when they're around but only to be so brassed off at your mistakes at home when the night is quiet and nobody is watching.

You can be selfish when you're searching and setting up your dreams but you can't go the same way when you want to establish them. Too many considerations, too many distractions.
Parents are getting older and as much as they want you to fulfill your goals, they'd like to be in your plan too.
Don't abandon them for your beautiful luxury.
 
I give up my dreams for a reason. A very solid reason.

For I set fire to the rain

I believe there is a side of us that your best friend will never know, like I have this small books(a few actually) where I keep all my bombastic vocabulary so that I can use words like Perspicacious or Pergola in my imaginary monologue.
But it doesn't mean all the things that I've said weren't true.

Murmuring to my handwritten letters and postcards often makes me..desolate. I saw my friend came back to room at 9am and went out again at 10am. This overdosed solitude isn't healthy and I know it. In the despondent desperation of holding on to something lively, I sketch human form. I draw faces with mesmerizing eyes, shoulders with prominent scapula.

All my friends are really nice person(ok not exactly ALL), but I'm just not that into Ipad or Igames. It must be very stupid of me, not knowing how to bang the fat opera singer down the stage or how to make a bird angry. Rapt in cogitation, may be it's because I refuse to grow up, or I simply don't want to blend in because I'm TOO self absorbed.

Of course there are many games that I want to play. I want to learn how to fly a kite, instead of putting 3 same coloured stone in a row and collect points; I want to learn Van Gogh's post-impressionism and tell stories with my painting, instead of drawing a joystick and ask my friend to guess what that is; I want to watch my friends smile and cry when they tell stories, it's just NOT RIGHT for everyone to have same electronic handwriting, I spent too much time in primary school to consummate my handwriting because my teacher said people will like you more if you can write beautifully.

I better stop throwing us into the flame, I think I just lost a few more friends.

Cheerleading

It's the kind of freaking challenging thing you swear during every practices that you won't join it again next time but after the 3 minutes of perfection, you'll be like: It's on, bitches!

See you next year.

Why do you have to go and make things so complicated

I haven't been blogging for SO long I swear the last time I blogged, my currently blooming third molar was still partially erupted. Warn you, you may find my sentences incoherent or words inappropriate, if you notice any missing comma somewhere in between my lines, leave me a note.

Just like when I picked up my reading again (two days back,YEEEHA), those words seem to be needing more time to reach my brain, all the intricate cheerleading count and patient appointments completely sclerosed my arteries and veins, I even forgot to remind my classmates to wear ang ang on our last lecture before Chinese New Year and take happy group pictures, this is cardinal sin, me tell you.

When I grow up I wanna be a star I wanna be famous I wanna be in a movie. Nicole Scherzinger told us that. Now look, she has boobies she danced with the star and she is on People Magazine.
Like a pathetic little bee, I flied around and bugged everyone with my question just two or three days ago, have they always wanted to be a dentist since they were small?

Surprisingly, no one. Except my long term neighbour Aimee, after realizing fireworks will never turn her into Britney, or mermaid.
Stewardess, singer, police, teacher, model (i know right..), dancer, pilot..
This morning I asked Dr R, he wanted to be a DOCTOR doctor, not a dentist doctor.
Normally this is where I write my fancy little theory about our society but sadly, my conclusion for this paragraph is: Bitches, Victoria Secret's models fuck us all.
(Eehehehehe and i get to put their pictures here)

Let alone has the past and future. Honestly I'm satisfied with how I've turned out to be. For example I used to think Britney was the only diva in the world.*scoff. Who am I kidding right?Look at Christina Aguilera and Beyonce.
If there is one accomplishment that I am absolutely so freaking extremely proud of is my evolution, musically. From Backstreet Boys to Miley Cyrus to PussycatDolls to The Beatles, and it goes right up to Genesis and King Crimson and Adam Hurst and of course my favourite The Doors.

Everyone has their unique talent. Like my Brazilian best friend Adriana Peta can dance like...like a Brazilian. If you wanna know what mine is, you are looking at it.

Not trying to boast but I can mix the exact same colour you want by...feeling. Just like swimming, painting has the effect of a spell, taking me out of the ordinary relations with humanity and enclosing my whole body in a sphere by myself.
I draw Destruction, I draw Sex, I draw Inferiority.
Yes society doesn't allow us to exude any of that, people will call you Whore and Victoria will never tell you her Secret.

Life like this you fall you crawl and you take what you can get, and turn it into honesty. Promise me I'll never gonna find you fake it.
No,no.............no!