sotto voce

i’m sick and tired of people telling me that Relationship must come first before Sex, in order for it to work. or else, the Respect will never be there, and She will only appear to Him as a piece of Meat.

...

what are we? Victorians?

i’m so fucking mad you just don’t know how mad i am to know the person i’ve so much respect for still believes in this kind of mumbo-jumbo that i thought, only chauvinistic male pigs would believe in.

yeah. perhaps i’m just denying something that is undeniably true. perhaps i’m a psycho nymph with overactive sex drive who goes for anything in pants.
argh. fuck fuck fuck fuck.

and if what i’m hearing is true,
i’m just the biggest loser in the universe to fall for this kind of stupid trick.
i wish i could lie straight to your face and said that these things don’t bother me because he’s just a guy i’m dating and not really serious about because hey…. WHO WANTS TO BE ATTACHED TO A MORONIC SELFISH DOUCHEBAG ANYWAY.
unfortunately, i can’t.
people know i’ve been gushing (verbally, not down there you toot!) about him and how it makes me happy the first time he actually opened up to me and talked to me about his problem for one hour on the phone.
glibly i thought i finally earned this guy’s trust and i’m no longer just the girl he can have fun with but also talk serious things to.
in retrospect, i feel fucking used.
what do you think i am? a spare tyre? the one you run to when all else fails? your back-up plan?

well, fuck you.

ah! i wish i could just walk away walk away that easily but a part of me still wants to stick with the game. part of me sees the whole situation in a totally different light: that i’ve just lost a competitor and my time has come to be the one he can finally see eye to eye with.
but think about my pride, my bruised pride after knowing that he refers to me as "the girl who likes me a lot/ but i don’t have the same feelings / which sucks / because i don’t know if you can grow these feelings."

oh fuck you and your ‘butterfly-in-the-stomach’ idea.
i hate this world. i fucking hate this world.
the guys who like me are douchebags, the guys i like are douchebags too, so what does that leave me with… ? me, myself, and i… (don’t worry friends, you guys are always part of the plan).

tell me if i’m just idiotic for thinking that love is something you grow and not a pretty prune you pick from the orchard. there’s no such thing as love-o-matic.
perhaps there is, it’s just that i don’t believe in their existence because i know nobody ever loves me at first sight. i always have to be the girls who work their asses off , sacrificing time and energy just to prove their worth to someone who – in the end – prove to be worthless.
it’s funny how last night i was wondering why i always think that i can fix things, i can make things work, i can gel with anyone i want to.
i shd’ve probably known from my fourth dates with wy that we’re not compatible. and i try making things work (although occasionally i just drop all the efforts, i admit) for 2.5 years.
and yes, last night… he practically left me to chat on AIM with his ‘law sch friend whom i haven’t talked to for a long time’, when i… listen to this carefully…
had to bust my ass off for the past two weeks just so i can finish all my exams, finals and papers earlier so i can visit him, and not only that…
i had to sacrifice my victory sleep (that’s the beautiful sleep i normally get after three days of back-to-back allnighters) so i can pack my room so i can get to NY early.
and by pack, i’m talking about PACK. my room is bare now because all my belongings in life now are in two boxes and three suitcases.

so why do i say that i ‘hit it off’ with him?
positive illusion.
just the way he thinks that he’s ‘hit it off’ with the other girl he’s dating whom he’s so madly in love with (ok probably not madly in love, but just like her more than he likes me).

i wish i could believe in that proverbial story: that one day my prince charming will come along in his landcruiser and hiking gears, and i’ll know i’ve found him when i see him.
right now i really wish i could start believing that i don’t have to look anymore that i don’t have to try anymore that i should stop trying to make things work because only certain things are meant to work.

and now the question is:
should i stay or should i walk away?

whatever. i’m having my lunch date with mango soon, we’ll see how that one goes. 

my body just sabotaged me.
he (yes, i call my body with a male pronoun. any problem with that??)

so yes, he decides it’s a good time to bleed again, although i just had my period like what, twelve days ago??
probably in celebration of the end of semester,
i don’t know… i don’t understand my stupid body’s logic>

it can function 72 hours non-stop, handle cups after cups of caffeine, nicotine, pot, fats, stupid jerks, and what-nots…
but when it comes to important moments (such as when i’m due to have mad crazy ‘ahem’ with three of my favorite boys. not simultaneous, quite unfortunaately.. hahaha),
he just simply crashes.

btw, in case i don’t have the time to update,
merry christmas, hannukah and kwanzaa peeps.
happy new year too.
go easy on the booze and all the cheery good spirit.
may you have a great and wonderful and crazy holiday.
MUACKS!

HA!

who said taking 7 classes is impossible?
i survived, sane and well.

take that, bitch! 

i want to tell him this, this weekend:

"i’ve decided that i can’t play it cool
so i’m backing out before i get burned."

serious. no joke. 

i’m going to say something unimportant:

i’ve been visiting wikipedia religiously these couple of days and noticing the donation bar on top of their page.
it’s growing really fast, btw!
yesterday it was only $80K last night and eighteen hours later it’s $130K.
not baddd.

that makes me happy.
i wish i could donate to them too…
like what, $1 ??
haha.

see, toldcha.. it’s not important.
oh, and after ogling at NASA website – using my paper as an excuse – i think i know what i want to do for my thesis.

ANYTHING, as long as it involves looking at pretty landsat images.
lalalalallal

this morning i woke up with the most disorienting and painful headache i’ve ever had for the longest time.
so, in desperate attempt to get myself start working again (damn you, geomorph paper!), i swallowed one of those unidentified pill i have in my medicine cabinet, knowing there’s 1 in 2 chances i’ll be ingesting the sleeping pill instead of painkiller.

yah. of course i just had to take the wrong one. 

fuck lah. 

as i was recollecting my thoughts while smoking outside just now, i suddenly started thinking about mouth cancer, and given my morbid tendency, began to expand my thoughts to other sorts of cancer that i will probably be diagnosed with in the next five to ten years, thanks to my unhealthy lifestyle.

this kind of thoughts used to not bother me. i’ve never been scared of dying, because i only want to live to 60; at least that’s what i’ve been telling people.

then i started thinking about my recent conversation with mr. nujabes. i told him that these two days i’ve been feeling as if i’m gonna have a heart attack – probably just the effect of having too much eugenol (substance in clove cigarettes) in my system -  but i swear the feeling is so  real it’s bordering on freaky.

when i told him that, he wrote back:"WHAT?? you aren’t doing much for my heart, talking like that."

i swear this kind of revelation has never occured to me before, even when W has scolded me numerous times for not sleeping.
somehow, W’s "what am i gonna do when you die" rhetoric never really hit me as hard as what mr. nujabes just told me.
and it’s not as if i didn’t know he loved me and that he’d actually be miserable if ever i die a sudden death.
so why do i care more about mr.N’s feeling than W’s feeling, when both are people who care about me whom i also care about?

from a friend’s old blog:

"... weird to find myself single after all these years.
but i guess i’ll get used to it soon.
and on the bright side, i can feel suddenly there are
these guys checking me out, and i can actually
relish at the attention without feeling the slightest
tinge of guilt…"

seriously girl, (without meaning to pick on her) since when do you have to feel guilty for being attractive. even if you’re married, with six kids and two grandchildren, for goodness’ sake, it’s okay to allow that feel-good emotions surge through your body when you know other people are fawning on you. 

mannnnn…. 

(thank you carrots for the encouragement)

impossible just gives you an extra syllable
to utter all the possibilities in this world,
and,
insurmountable just passes you two extra letters
to spell all the words you need to conquer the world.

be it mortally impossible or humanly insurmountable,
thou are not mortal human.
let not the big words consume you in its fierish flame
of cold.
let not the fear burns you away in its childish
unintimidating laughter.

fuck it. i will prevail.

(it’s 5.41am. let the world know that i’m going to do so fucking well in my two exams today)
soldier on, private.

nabeh… wtf…

i only told you that i can’t talk for long because i need to finish studying this geomorph soon, so i can start on my econs, so i can finish both finals tomorrow, so i can pack up and quickly leave for NY.

of course i didn’t tell you all the things above, coz you cut me right after i said, "hey, i can’t talk for long.."
and then you launched into your typical pitiful and annoying, "why are you like that, you’re irritating me, i’m not going to talk to you for long anyway, fine i won’t call you for the next three days.."

excuse me,
who is irritating ah?
whomever asks you to call anyway?
if you think calling me at weird hours and at inopportune moments just to lick my ass, hoping we’ll get back together… dream on dream on.

i’m so fed up.

THAT, is directed solely to me – and my narcissistic tendency to talk about mr.nujabes and i, mango and i, w and i, ... as if the only important things in my life are things that fit themselves into these three boxes.
that is fucking shallow.
but of course, i also understand that relationship is a source of drama and juiciness, and who wants to read about my daily schedule, or my suffering eyes – and my gut feeling that i’m going to die soon, or about my revelation that i’m a terrible student.

bah.
this always happens at the end of every semester. the need to recapitulate that hits you hard in the head, as you try to justify the gargantuan effort you spend on papers after papers, exams after exams, while sacrificing your health and sanity in the process.
why the fuck do we subject ourselves – voluntarily – to these tortures?
do you really learn incredibly important/useful/mind-blowing/enlightening things by going to college, that costs a hefty 40K a year yet still asks you to kill yourself.
i’m not talking about your experience in college, like analytical skills, communication skills and the other members of that bullshit family. no sirre,... i learn these things from my job (in lim lab and as a tech) and from debating with friends during one of those good days (no more, thanks to my schedule). so what does college really teach me?
how much information i receive will be retained in my pathetically non-adhesive brain when i walk up the olin steps to receive my diploma?
will i ever – in my future jobs – look back and thank prof. blah for his particular lecture that’s saving me from being skinned alive by my employer?
how much of the future me will be shaped by what i learn in class?

gawd.
my most useful classes this semester – somewhat ironically – are my econs classes (behavioral and statistics). ironic because i’ve always tried to shy away from that department. the only reason why i’m taking these is a) behav econ reeks more of psych than of econs, b) i need econ300 to study macro/micro, which i need for grad sch.

actually chinese class is useful too.. although they’re apparently teaching words that people do not use. like how taxi is chuzu qiche, and bus is gonggong qiche. but damn, zheige jia wo dei lianxi zhongwen, or else i guarantee you all the words will slowly seep out of my brain. no fucking idea why my brain is so porous like that. 

man.. listen to me talking.
i shd be happy that i’m in this libart school where i get to learn completely useless things (such as how to  find life in venus’s acidic cloud and how to appreciate rock outcrops you see when you’re driving on the highway.
mr.N was bemoaning the fact he didn’t take enough of interesting classes when he was still in sch whereas i could easily make him feel worse by listing my ‘i-can’t-believe-they-teach-you-that-in-college’ classes.

so,...
there’s no so. it’s just a fact of life.
that you’ve gotta got through exams and final papers and the rest of ‘em bitches.
and looking at the multitude of stressed-out, near-suicidal looks around me, i shd feel very proud of myself, the fact i can calmly write my paper (while shaking my booties to the tune of la caina’s ‘bailando va’ at that) and survive this final week gracefully, when i have 7  classes that equate to five exams and two research papers.
(yada yada boasting once in a while, can lah)

back to crunch time 

i’ve been playing this mindgame with myself. almost like those philosophical mind-boggling question you can’t really solve because it’s like a jumble of shapeless abstraction in a dark room.
you can’t grasp it, can you?

but this is the essence of my oh-so-deep conundrum:
do i like him because i do really like him, or merely because he represents the thing i can’t have therefore i want him.
ok fine. it’s not that hard to grasp.
basically: do i just have the bad habit of obsessing about things i can’t have?

i do not want my obsession to run my life, but i’m so fucking obsessed, it’s ridiculous.
when i read his old, abandoned xanga entries, i kept sighing and musing and thinking, "shit. he’s like, the perfect guy for me."
just because i like the way he writes – quite an absurdist but pretty good with his metaphors and other creative writing shit.
he has a poet/artist heart, and that’s such a fucking turn-on.
and if you think that’s not inane enough, all i want is for him to think i’m awesome. that’s all. i don’t need him to take the next greyhound to this place, go down on his knees and profess his undying love for me.
that will be taking it too far, i don’t fucking need that, although.. if it happens of course it’ll be awesome. but what’s the likelihood.. heh.
so ya. i just want him to like me too. i promise i won’t bring a stick ruler / measurement cup / weighing machine to make sure that the amount of attraction he has for me measures to my attraction for him.

intermezzo. my soon-to-be-ex called me at seven in the morning today to tell me he loves me. and i really want to say, i love you too, i swear i really want to. but i can’t, because that will complicate matter and he’ll tell me let’s don’t break up and then i’ll be a softie again and then we’ll gt back together again and the same crappy thing will happen again. NO. IT mUST STOP.
also, did i mention that he sounded like he just finished crying?

now..
back to mr nujabes (toldcha it’s a recurring and incurable obsession)
i was working the whole day in the lab today and felt really tired abt 6-ish, so i went to m’s place to crash. alas, i left my cellphone in the lab and believe it or not, i kept wanting to run back to the lab just to get my phone because i knew he’d call.
but i didn’t just because i didn’t want to be so childish / obsessive abt the whole thing.
freaky thing is: i couldn’t stop worrying about his missed call i actually dreamt about it.
enough to say i didn’t have a good rest.
so when i got back to the lab and saw his missed call + listened to his voicemail + being unable to call him afterwards (until now), i felt compelled to jump off my window.
don’t you just fucking hate missed connection.
worst feeling in the world…
d’you know how hard it was for me to hold myself back last night from calling him when i was truly high? i just wanted to tell him that i like him because as much as we consider it a tacit agreement to never broach the subject of ‘us’, i just want to get it out there so he has no reason for calling me ‘hard to guess’ and that he doesn’t know ‘what my real intention is.’
oh fucking dipshit. isn’t it clear already that i’m madly crazy about you ?
but yah. i really want to tell him i like him and that’s that.. as i say … i don’t want anything back.

yet there’s this rope that’s tying me down to the chair.
an imaginary slap and a splash of cold water. frozen beads trickling down my face.
"play it cool, girl… play it cool."

mindfucking game is fine when it’s done in the speed of the movie.
five minutes of frame time, and then it’s the next day.
yah… DUH … of course it’s easy then.
but what happened in between the days, in between each rounds of banter between you two, when there is longing, when there is immense palpable longing for him.
these things are cut from the scene, because this is where the pain comes from.
or perhaps i’m just hyperactive, ADD. i need to "DO" something all the time, i can’t just sit back and wait. i constantly need to know that i’m on top of my game.
oh fuck.

it’s official.
i just want things i can’t have.
fiketyfak.

he is the last thing i would want to think about when i was in my highest stage of high.
but he was the permanent occupant of my mind last night, as i laughed my ass off doing silly things.
i kept wondering,... shit… why didn’t i get this high last last friday when i was actually smoking with HIM. he would never know that i’m actually this fucking great and funny when i’m high.

omg sel. stop.

i thought, as i giggled uncontrollably yesterday morning following my conversation with mango who just got back from venezuela, that i obsess about HIM only just as much as i obsess  about mango. therefore, it shouldn’t depress me the fact i haven’t been able to get him out of my mind this couple of weeks. but seriously, i obsess about him in a different way, in a much more worse and detrimental way, merely because i know he could give me a call easily if he wants to, he can come over here to see me if he wants to and neither of us will feel weird about it because we fucking know how we feel about each other.

yet he doesn’t, therefore i wonder and ponder and wonder some more, why…

yes, we (by we, i mean my good friends and i) have decided that we do not want to be in a relationship with HIM, or with anybody.
BUT - somewhat in a diabolical way that i often act – i do want him to obsess about me and to court me seriously, only to find that he just missed his fucking chance.

omg sel. stop. 

once again, i’m attempting to do a research paper that’s beyond the requirement of the course.
holy fucking shit. this is econ300 for goodness sake, not effin econometrics
i doubt econometrics student even does this.

shit shit shit shit.

i need more ciggies.  

update: no kidding. that was the worst paper i’ve ever written in my entire wes career. damn econ!

even if there is, it’d be too dark to recognize it and i’d be too drunk to even care.
but that’s not the point, is it?

in this complex game of ours, should i keep on assuming that i treat you the way you’d treat me? that reciprocation is the key? when you told me you’re glad you got the chance to talk to me before your bedtime, did you really mean it, just like the way i mean it when i said ‘i think i miss you.’
did you get distracted at the end just because i got distracted at the beginning.
d’you know how much i want to call you out when you ended the call with, "i’ll see you soon."

but how soon, sweetheart?
soon enough that your cold hand can feel the remaining warmth from within me?
soon enough before my forgetful mind relocates you to an unoccupied corner?
soon enough that we need not have another of this silly call?

i know fucking well this is the risk of the game.
uncertainties. and i know you’re still trying to guess me as much as i’m trying to guess you. but i just wonder how long can the power of mystery holds the attraction.
as much as i do not want to admit i’m afraid:
i am fucking afraid that this will fizzle out and soon – y’know how soon my ‘soon’ really is – you’ll be nothing but a filler chapter long forgotten.
no, i don’t want you to be relegated to such unimportance because i think you’re amazing, you’re interesting, you make me laugh, and you make me want to be a million things i never thought i wanted to be. (oh cheesiness galore, someone give me my lactase before i get lactose intolerance)

but baby, as rilo kiley said:

There’s blood in my mouth ‘cause I’ve been biting my tongue all week
I keep on talkin’ trash but I never say anything
And the talkin’ leads to touchin’
and the touchin’ leads to sex
and then there is no mystery left

And It’s bad news
Baby I’m bad news
I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news

I know I’m alone if I’m with or without you
but just bein’ around you offers me another form of relief
When the loneliness leads to bad dreams
and the bad dreams lead me to callin’ you
and I call you and say "C’MERE!"

And it’s bad news
Baby I’m bad news
I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news

‘Cause you’re just damage control
for a walking corpse like me – like you

‘Cause we’ll all be
Portions for foxes
Yeah we’ll all be
Portions for foxes

There’s a pretty young thing in front of you
and she’s real pretty and she’s real into you
and then she’s sleepin’ inside of you
and the talkin’ leads to touchin’
then touchin’ leads to sex
and then there is no mystery left

And it’s bad news
I don’t blame you
I do the same thing
I get lonely too

And you’re bad news
My friends tell me to leave you
That you’re bad news, bad news, bad news

That you’re bad news
Baby you’re bad news
and you’re bad news
Baby you’re bad news
and you’re bad news
I don’t care I like you
and you’re bad news
I don’t care I like you
I like you

stravaig, v.
(strve<—end_pg—>g) intr. To wander about aimlessly.

There’s something calming about smoking outside my window, looking at the multitude of orange lights scattered over the night vista that lay before me. Meanwhile in the background, Cafe del Mar spins one intoxicating song after another.
I just wonder, what would the sel four years ago think of the current sel?
would she shakes her head in disapproval, or would she become more determined to achieve what i have right now and be the person i am right now…
what would the ‘you’ four years ago think of your current self?

and i just went crazy over a song i couldn’t name…
was downloading a bunch of cafe del mar mix when i heard this mix by suntrust that i recognized so fucking well, yet i couldn’t name it nor could i place where i heard it before. It’s so frustrating I resorted to calling a bunch of friends who’re also Cafe del Mar’s fans, but none of them knew either. Until I realize the name is right there, with a slight spelling error.
it’s called "how intensitive" in the album, but the original is "how insensitive" or "insensatez", composed by Vinicius de Moraez and lyrics by Norman Gimbel. Amazon listed it as "How Intensitive", which is possibly the wordplay intended by Sun Trust… no idea the spelling error is intended or not.
I managed to find a couple of variations, by Diana Krall, Jacintha Abisheganaden, Astrud Gilberto, and Antonio Carlos Jabim. But…. there’s this variation that’s playing in my mind – so clear it’s freaky to me – and I just couldn’t find it anywhere. Damn frustrating!
but at least i know the title of the song now.

How Insensitive (Insensatez)

Ella ama mi perfume
Mi perfume es insensatez
A veces sueo que ella llora cuando no me ve
Ella ya cambi sus ojos su forma de ver
Quiero volar bien lejos
No quiero mas sufrir

Quiero nacer de nuevo
No quiero. Morir

Ella ama mi perfume
Mi perfume es insensatez
A veces sueo que ella llora cuando no me ve
Ella ya cambi sus ojos su forma de ver
Quiero volar bien lejos
No quiero mas sufrir

Quiero nacer de nuevo
No quiero. Morir

How Insensitive
I must have seemed
When she told me that she loved me
How unmoved and cold
I must have seemed
When she told me so sincerely
Why she must have asked
Did I just turn and stare in icy silence
What was I to say
What can you say when a love affair is over

Now she’s gone away
And I’m alone with the memory of her last look
Vague and drawn and sad
I see it still
All her heartbreak in that last look
Why she must have asked
Did I just stare in icy silence
What was I to do
What can one do when a love affair is over

update (1.14am): found it. black eyed peas used this tune in their "sexy" song, one of my ‘fuck’ songs. hahahahaha 

when you feel invariably happy and ecstatic (despite just failing your oh-so-important driving test a couple hours ago) the minute your neighbor who’s going home for winter break knocked on your door and offered a handful of green chilies (chili padi / cabe rawit!) thinking you might want them.

my gastric is so gonna get it, but whatever… my craving for those lil’ explosives is more pertinent right now.

and come to think of it,, there’s no use getting my license now coz i won’t be able to drive on the highway for the next two months. probably i’m really saving my (and his) life by not driving this winter break. who knows?

hurra to green chili and i think i’m well enough to go to kath’s party tonite.

wooohooo 

Congratulations!

This message is being sent to notify you that your requested itinerary has been CONFIRMED. This means that your credit card has been successfully charged for the amount of $174.85, and your travel plans have been completed and booked with the respective providers.

To recap the details of your itinerary, here’s what we’ve got planned for you:

3 nights hotel accommodations at the Sahara Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, NV, checking in on Saturday, December 23, 2006, and checking out on Tuesday, December 26, 2006. We have 1 standard room reserved for xxxxxxxxxxxx and xxxxxxxxxxxxx and we have requested a non-smoking room with one bed.


Addresses:
Sahara Hotel and Casino  
Las Vegas, NV 89109

i’m officially 174.85 dollars poorer, but christmas in vegas? in sahara hotel??
shit… i think we’ll be having way too much fun and not enough time under the blanket.
damn damn damn.
need cuddles so badly

PISSED
blardeehell i just failed my driving test.
it won’t piss the hell out of me if not for the fact i’ve to wait till february for the retest and pay ninety bucks.
WTF? right?
the woe of living in this godforsaken place i tell you.
ok. so at least i pass the written test (100% okay!) eventhough i only studied for the question one hour before.
also, i’m still fucking sick. someone please tell me wtf is wrong with my body.
now that my tonsilitis is somewhat better, i feel terribly nauseous, i’m having diarrhoea, my stomach is gassy, and my body still feels fucking weak.
oh, and have i mentioned that i feel lethargic all the time.
i would have suspected myself of being pregnant if not for the fact that i still have to stick you-know-what up my you-know-what every four hours.
KNNBCCB. why oh why should sel be so stupid and reckless as to forget to turn her head 120degrees when checking for cars behind.
it’s performance anxiety i tell you….
ARGHTGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG angry liao!

and yes. i do look like the cat above because i’m sick and angry and i just want to be cuddled and taken care of by a specific someone right now. hopefully he is really coming over this weekend – fingers crossed!!

so i’m angry and ready to explode anytime soon, but cannot… since i have to do my econ research paper.
how to when i’m as volatile as 90% alcohol right now. MAEHHHH
but i know i’ll be fine in one/two days time…
i’m quick to anger but very easy to cool down too, mostly because i’m too forgetful to be able to retain those emotions that make me angry.
hence, i think nietzsche’s "blessed are the forgetful / because they get the better even of their blunders" is very apt in my case.
people who cannot forget are cursed with their gifts of memory.
take for example, mr nujabes, he’s one tortured soul because he keeps all those bad memories within him. makes me feel really ‘sayang’ for him, y’know…

mooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…
i hate this country, i hate middletown, i hate my school, i hate reading week, i hate being sick, i hate being alone.

remember that song, i’ll never fall in love again ? there’s one line in that song that goes: “what do you get when you kiss a guy/ all you get is enough germs to catch pneumonia”

so this is what i remember when i listen to broken social scene’s “lover’s spit”.

randomness

am so very very sick. my tonsilitis is acting up again and my whole body feels as if it’s just been crushed by a tractor.

so not fun to be sick when it’s reading week. =(

sel wants a biiiig bear hug!

my period is here… so no more PMS. hip hip hurra!

HAHAA, definitely too much information, but i’m just ecstatic i don’t have to deal with moodswing anymore, at least for the next 30 days. lol.
T claimed PMS is a lame excuse and unsupported by science, but he is WRONG.
not only do i have scary anecdotal evidence to back it up with, i can pull out many many research papers from medical journals to prove the existence of PMS. apparently, increasing your intake of calcium and vitD can reduce the severity of PMS. hrm… shd try to drink more milk next month.

that aside, i just got promoted.

am a student manager now, running a business with 5-digit revenue (SSSHHH)
had a long chat with the current managers and the ‘boss’ this afternoon, which made me feel so very important, and thrilled about the new job, even though they’re obviously trying to intimidate me with past horror stories.

it’s funny how A and M (the managers) barged into the office, quickly whisked me into A’s car while i was still dumbly holding on to my mug, and drove me to the boss’s house that’s ten mins’ away from campus.
i felt like i was a secret agent  – jemima bond (haaaa!) – brought to a secret location to meet M.
plus, my boss had this thick mexican (?) accent and was seriously explaining to me the seriousness and intensity of my job with this comical expression.
meanwhile, A, M, and I had to stifle our laughters and try to keep ourselves warm in the 5 degrees weather.

yay. new challenges, fun, fun.

btw, i still have to be more gracious when accepting compliments.
instinctively, i’d be like the chinese and say, "nali nali"
deflect the compliment and find a new topic, as if it’s a dangerous fire that needs to be put off.
even though it’s good to be polite, i need to learn to acknowledge the compliments, thank the person who compliments me, and convince myself that i do deserve the compliments.
i already know that my motivation for working hard and excel is not to receive compliments from other, so i shouldn’t be afraid of accepting this bonus, or even worse, feeling ashamed for feeling good after being complimented.

seriously, asian mannerism is soooo… weird.
probably not weird, just incompatible with the environment i’m currently in.

since i’m in a chatty mood (even though at the back of my mind, i keep on thinking about my 5 final exams and 2 research papers), i’ll write  abit more.
this month, many seniors and friends received job offers,
and many are still searching.
it just makes  you wonder which category you’ll fall in next year.
naturally i’ll think i’ll get a job easily. not because i’ve amazing qualifications, but just because i’m instinctively an optimist. hahahah.
but on second thoughts, i’m worried that i’ll end up jobless or have to work in some shitty jobs i don’t really want just because i need to make ends meet.
don’t call this self-doubt unfounded, because my GPA is after all mediocre (3.5 something…), thanks to all the explorations and unnecessary gung-ho’ness in picking hardcore classes in freshman year, my major’s stupid policies to discount your sophomore year’s grades. blah. i just hope i can up it a lil’ bit by the end of this semester.
also, i dabble in a lot of things, but never concentrate on any.
which probably will make my future employer thinks that i’m a fickle, uncommitted person.
which probably is also a fair conclusion.
thank goodness my resume won’t include the stories of my relationships, because for sure no one will want to hire me after that. hahahahah.. unless the boss is very humsup (read: horny) and thinks i’m an easy target (choi!)

but yah… it’s quite sad i can’t really talk to anyone about this nagging worry i have, because everyone always dismisses it with a wave of their stinky hand and says, "but who wouldn’t want to hire you? you’re amazing."

my dearrrrr… i can’t hand in a resume that says: "hire me please, because i’m amazing. ask my friends."

meeeeh. i don’t want to work. i want to stay in school.

so right now i’m doing an quantitative econ paper on suicide and income (morbid eh?!). very interesting.
i’ll tell you guys my findings when i’m done with it.
but yah…. for one of my variables, i’m using this parameter called ‘subjective well-being’, simply means an individual’s current evaluation of his/her happiness. in europe they actually do an annual (or once in five years, i can’t remember) SW survey, which is compiled into a report called eurobarometer. there’s also another study that asks the subjects to wear this funky machine, which will ask them every 24 hours or so, whether they’re happy or not, so the result is an accurate mean of their feelings over a period of time.

i’ll stop here before i get too technical.

but yah… this thing is so interesting that i spend hours reading on the subject, that is only a minute portion of my research. then i realize that i can actually focus on this field and become an expert on happiness.
how cool will that be?
i’ll be the person who knows the ‘secret to happiness’.
haha. corny.

speaking of this elusive holygrail of ‘secret to happiness’, last thu i was too lazy to walk from my office to the gym, so i took the escort-service van. the driver was this sprightly 74-year-old man, who just loves to chat and is an interesting person to talk to. he told me he discovered the secret to happiness 29 years ago, so i asked him what happened 29 years ago.

"i got divorced." and a huge beam spread across his face, revealing the remaining fifteen or so teeth he has left.

i stared at him for a good one minute, wondering if he’s serious about what he said.
this guy is either senile or trying hard to be funny when he isn’t, i thought.
generally we believe that having a spouse is a good investment for your old age, so you’ll have someone to grow old with. right?
well… this old man agrees with this general consensus, but he said, his ex-wife was just not the one, and he wasn’t willing to make another risky, and potentially-expensive bet.

interestingly, this was right after i sealed the deal with W to call our relationship off and even though i knew it was the right decision, sentimentality was inevitable and i was somewhat in mourning.
i told the van driver this, and he said:
"don’t worry, m’dear. you’ll find another one.
and let me give you an advice, just as if you’re my own daughter
next time you meet a new man, make an account balance sheet of his negative and positive characters. if his ‘credit’ doesn’t outweigh his ‘debit’ by at least three MAJOR points,
walk away.
walk away, sweetie, and you’ll never make the same mistake i did."

i’ll definitely try to keep the sage advice in mind.
funny dood.

during supper last night, T and I were talking about my bet with W.
story is, i told W that after this, i do not want to be in a relationship for the next two years. just because i need to rediscover myself (sounds so cheesy huh…?) and the only way i can do that is to allow myself be my first priority (read: be selfish), since i’m such a wussy when it comes to relationship and will always be too selfless.
W think i’m deluding myself into believing that i’m as tough as i portray myself to be and that i actually won’t be able to stay single because:

a. i can’t deal with inexclusive (open) relationship, hence i’d prefer to make all my relationships an exclusive one.

b. i’m a softie and i won’t be able to reject any sorts of advances, especially when i actually like the guy too.

the bet is on. you guys can join too (ha)

but anyway, i was telling T about this bet but he misunderstood my definition of ‘single’. he thought, ‘single’ as in platonically single, not hooking up with anyone.
hell no… how am i going to survive being a nun for two friggin years?
heh.
so this leads to an ingenious idea, which is…. to put up an ads on craigslist / ebay / yahooads asking if anyone would be willing to pay $80,000 in return of my staying chaste and holy for two years.
why $80,000?
grad school, man!
but yah… people with ridiculous amount of money sometimes spend their money on stupid things anyway, so why not this thing right??

lol

mr. nujabes finally talked to me yesterday after days of silent treatment – no idea why – that half-tortures me to craziness. especially after my impromptu voice message i left on his voicemail on friday, which went like:

"hey …, you know i don’t give in to coyness, so i won’t even pretend to be one. and you know i don’t like repressing things i feel, coz i find it frustrating to do so. so i’ve something to tell you, and you don’t need to say anything in response to it. as a matter of fact, i don’t want to hear what you have to say in response. so yah… i think i miss you. g’nite."

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
i wasn’t even high/drunk. just bloody impulsive and lonely at that time.

so yah.
his aim away message last night was:
"too old to be coy. there are some people i really miss right now."

objection to the quantifier ‘some’, but whatever… was happy enough to have my weekly dose of inane bullshit talks and a lil’ of mindfucking game.
=)

btw, i’m a true believer of PMS.
for the past four days i’ve been suuuuper moody and depressed.
however, my mood suddenly lightened up yesterday and this morning i felt the quintessential pre-period stomach cramp.
yehhhhhhhh… i’m glad i have an early warning system so i won’t have a bloody tsunami. (without meaning to be disrespectful to anyone)

hell week ahead and i’m so not ready for it.
but i know i’ll survive with ease.

wahlaoeh…...................

my EES classes are kicking my bootiful arse much much worse than any of my classes have ever done to me.

why the fuck am i in this major.

maeh. 

don’t you think it’s uncanny that i ‘found’ someone who lives on the same street where he used to live (oh not THAT song please), who’s also a history major, who also studied in argentina for one year, who was also thought by people to be gay, who also sounds incredibly sexy only when he speaks in spanish, and… who thinks i look like a latina more than asian.

or perhaps these ‘samples’ are representations of what you will most likely get when you randomly pick one above-average-looking guy in a senior party.

oh man, i just want this week to be over. i desperately need my sleep. 

sometimes i wonder why i need to be in a relationship at all.
with tonnes of things to do and a gazillion of friends plus their parties and what-nots, relationship seems more of an obligation than anything else.

seriously. 

last month someone asked me to list my weekly schedule. class, work, CCA, socializing time, lab work, etc. etc.
after i was done, he asked, "and you also have a boyfriend, right?" – as if it’s only natural that i add him into my schedule, because, well, he’s basically an obligation too.
upon reflection, i realize how much time i spend on these relationship bullshit. it’s not just boyfriend that’s taking up my time, mind you. the rest also hogs quite a significant amount of my free time.

think of all the books i can read, the extra hours for sleeping, all the old friends i can catch up with, all the food i can cook, if only these time spend on those wocky arses can be converted to personal time.

damn. what a late realization.

btw, i’m almost done with my hell week. today is the pinnacle and hopefully it’ll go downhill from here.
grah. sel is just mooooooooooooody.

from now on, everytime i recall that morning, this song will always be in the background and foreground of my mind. imagine watching your own video clip in a cozy room with huge-ass screen, comfy couch, popcorn and all, and a superb surround system playing the soundtrack.

mmmmhhhhhhh!

been up all night staring at you
wondering what’s on your mind
i’ve been this way with so many before
but this feels like the first time
you want the sunrise to go back to bed
i want to make you laugh
mess up my bed with me,
kick off the covers, i’m waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don’t want forget come daylight

happy to lay here
just happy to be here
i’m happy to know you
play me a song your newest one
please leave your taste on my tongue
paperweight on my back cover me like a blanket
mess up my bed with me,
kick off the covers i’m waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don’t want forget come daylight

and no need to worry that’s wasting time
and no need to wonder what’s been on my mind
it’s you. it’s you. it’s you.

every word you say i think i should write down
don’t want to forget come daylight
i give up, i let you win
you win coz i’m not counting
you made it back to sleep again
wonder what you’re dreamin?

btw, i hope no one minds my influx of post. this burst of creative energy – or so i’d like to think of it – always happens during pre-reading week all the way to end of final week. nicotine effect just amplifies the phenomena, DUH! so expect posts after posts after posts. yippe

link: The Last Kiss soundtrack.
(p/s, don’t tell anyone i’m the one who transmogrifies you into a music pirate)

"so, this might sound weird… but it’s been on my mind for a while,
i hope you don’t get offended, but, do you by any chance have any reasons to believe you have a sort of … urm… STD?"

AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.!
finally the smoothie man is tongue-tied ehhh?

dang, man… shouldn’t i be the one who’s asking him?

but na ah. i just got cleared by my gynae the other day (yesterday!).
(and i’m sooo gonna get HPV vaccine once i get my paycheck.)

glad to know he’s clear too, although i still feel a bit weird about the question.
granted we talk about santa and christmas afterwards,
i feel like he’d only call me for:

1. booty call

2. make sure he doesn’t contract STD from me

3. to tell me that i need to get myself tested because he’s tested positive

4. booty call, ...

we’ll see if he calls again, if not i might need to do my two-steps-forward-one-step-back again.
just to keep him hooked for a while.
glaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.

one itsy bitsy confession, though:
i thought he was going to ask me if i was still attached to W,
but then why would he thought that question would offend me, right.
ngeeeeehhhh

ed (12.48am): rather than having a sleepless, not to mention unproductive, night wondering why the hell he popped the question (HA!),  i asked him what precipitated the question.
his answer: a burning sensation down there this afternoon.
HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH…
okay, shit, i think i need to schedule my HPV vaccination soon.

sorry for the past melancholic posts. it’s pretty yucky, i realize. i now shiver when i read them.
but i think i’ve bounced up, thanks to a certain inspiring post that teaches me to chill and enjoy the ride. he wants to take it slow… bring it on.

(like i’m scared, hah!)

i’m only friggin 22 and i SHOULD NOT lock myself in relationship one after another.
sure it’s comforting to be in a stable relationship, but as i have experienced myself, it can be pretty draining emotionally and tiring physically.
so i really should enjoy this time of my life when i can concurrently "date" three people casually. no commitment, no strings attached, no rules, and hopefully, no significant heartbreaks.
consider this mindfucking game as another skill i need to perfect so i can proudly put it in my resume. fuck uncertainties, i’m not scared of ‘em. i breathe in uncertainties, are you kidding me?!?
every fuckin week i work in my lab, i deal with 2 s.f, 3 d.p uncertainties, inherent error of the machines, human error, undiscovered uncertainties, what-nots.
geez, who says i’m scared of uncertainties now??

so yes, i’ll be doing my two-steps-forward-one-step-back as graciously as if i’m on the dancefloor with my best pair of dancing shoes.
i’ll switch partners as and when i want.
i’ll keep them and throw ‘em as and when i feel like it.
and you won’t see me sulking at the corner, trust me.
you know how i love to dance.

i swear one of these days i might fall off from my window while i enjoy my puff.

one a day to keep you away.

by the last stick (11 to go), you’ll be as ephemeral as the smoke i exhale out of my lung.
you might leave tars inside, ruining me eternally.
but i promise i won’t crave for you.

slivers of light pierced through my window and i thought of the past two mornings i spent staring at the dilapidated buildings across your apartment.
i love to think that we’re a pair of lovers who’re running away from the harsh reality, tucked romantically in a shoddy rathole that we can at least call our own.

but, do you ?

the gynae asked me to lie back and she gently pushed my shoulder down so i lay flat on the examination bed. i thought of how you looked when you imitated dart (our oh-so-cute puppy), pounced on me and prowled on top of my duvet-covered body, playfully and mercilessly pecking each square inch of my skin while i asked you to stop because the pleasurable sensation was making me nauseous.
it’s not the cold wind that makes me shiver, but the thought of your cold lips on my skin.
damn, i wish i could keep all these memories as intact as possible in my brittle mind.

but, do you? 

when mr.goo sang, "what you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful", you sang along right next to my ear as if the words were meant just for me.
i asked you to play iris in the morning, so i could have a soundtrack to remember these memories by,  "cause sooner or later it’s over, and i don’t want to miss you tonight."
i did and i still do miss you.

but, do you?

i told her i needed to talk things out so that hopefully i don’t keep on playing all the things you said over and over again. i still believe that externalizing all these bits of memories would allow me to consolidate them into a bundle of recollection i can toss away  – the sooner the better.
still a part of me is more than reluctant to throw it away. just because it hurts now, doesn’t mean i can’t safekeep it so i can look at it the next time. for kicks.
but what’s the point of looking back when i don’t even know what really happens at the other end of the line? hanging threads, i hate those. that’s why you burn the ends of a rope and use your fingers to press them together.

i just want to trace the line from beginning to the end so i’m not left wandering behind, wondering and wondering those last few steps away from your apartment.
"is this really the end? did i step into a land of imagination fri night and now return to reality just like that?"
i don’t know the answers.

do you? do you? do you?

perhaps you do. 

that’s a cocktail btw, but i’m clearly not going to talk about my experience with the drink, nor am i going to talk about sex. sorry to disappoint.
thing is, i think i’ve disappointed myself again…

i start to think i’m bloody abnormal to have, what laura liswood would call, Positive Illusion. It’s a trait owned by men that make them believe they can accomplish anything under the star. Liswood thinks this is one of the reasons why men are the so-called natural leader.
it’d be okay to have this trait, if only my illusion doesn’t come with ego the size of himalaya. imagine having to rebuild the destroyed mountain everytime my illusion is shattered, which is not a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion. it happens a lot, yet my illusion persists. fucking A.

fuck, fuck.
why can’t i just keep in mind that i am mediocre with all capitals and all bolds.
underline that if needed, just to make my stubborn will realize that i am not capable of everything, i can’t make everybody fall head over heel for me, even if i can do somersault or in this case, even if i were the best quarterback in history that can save his fantasy team.
even if i know he used to be infatuated with me, i can’t turn back the time and make things work, because clearly things aren’t like what they used to be.
i mean, tell me why on earth am i moving from one LDR to another?
fucking retarded or what?
even if the travelling time has been reduced by a factor of four it’s still gonna be a fucking LDR.
so why am i feeling under the weather when it seems like we’re not going anywhere. i should be happy because this enterprise is doomed from the start i shdn’t have even bothered doing a reconnaisance.

but ‘twas an amazing weekend.
i watched goo goo dolls concert, and to put it in his words: he "popped my live concert cherry" coz it was the first live concert by a famous band i ever attended.
they’re so good and they played my favorite song.

it’s indeed confusing. a great weekend in everyone’s book, yet i decide to pull out from the deal.
i just don’t want to get hurt or potentially hurt him in the future; not as if he hasn’t had enough emotional baggage from his previous relationships.

and apparently i just hurt my soon-to-be-ex badly, yet again.

We’re just ordinary people
We don’t know which way to go
Cuz we’re ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow
This time we’ll take it slow
This time we’ll take it slow