source

I'm done reading Artemis Fowl and The Time Paradox. It was brilliant, marvelous, funny, touching, exhilarating - oh god. I'm not ready to move on to another book! But probably that's because chemistry and AMaths are nagging at me, too. When I grow up I want to get one blue contact lens. I already have the hazel irises. Holly Short, Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer, my optical anatomy will pay tribute to you all <3

Back In The Circus, the awesome playlist where you get thirty-second clips of songs off Jonatha Brooke's 2004 album. It's so beautiful that honestly I'll never get enough. I got the link off the Bildungsroman site, this page to be specific. The album is a recommended soundtrack to a story where Chloe leaves her best friend Lindsay behind in Vegas because they don't have enough money to bring her along on their Europe tour, and somehow when she returns her entire life has changed - 'Pages will turn, bridges will burn, dreams will change, and the eye in the sky will be watching everything and everyone.'

I haven't read the book so I don't know what happens here. I do want to read it though. Anyone got American relatives willing to sponsor the ebay delivery charges? :D My point is, I love Back In The Circus.

Sipho.livejournal also has many gorgeous photos, partly because he knows someone named Victor, who at the point of fertilisation hit genetic lottery:

and also because he seems to go to the most wonderful places, including what looks like the Norwegian wilderness. I am probably wrong on that point but sue my geog teacher or something.

So there. That's my Monday. I will now go get kueh dadar or something.

-----

I can't believe it. Little Willow from slayground.livejournal managed to interview Garret Freymann-Weyr! I like reading interviews of authors I like. So this sentence caught my eye and for me it was one of those, you know, pai1 an4 jiao4 jue2 moments:

'It's about that moment when a girl realizes that her appearance, her whole being, is subject to public scrutiny. She's not just a kid becoming a woman. She's a girl discovering that she will spend her life having to contend with the fact that women are -- still -- viewed as objects. Or, as my main character would put it, as bounty.'

I love her. God, I really do.

There are so many books I want to read. I feel dead. I wore high heels for four hours and when I stepped out of them, the floor felt different.

The girl at Bengawan Solo knows me and can predict what I'm going to order. I've been there so many times since it opened two months ago. I've been there in so many different ways- dressed in a skirt, wearing heels, in my school uniform, wearing a scruffy tshirt with school shorts. Except in jeans.

My L1R5 is 20. The only thing I seem to have improved in is AMaths, with other subjects remaining in their usual state of decrepitude.

I have to write a testimonial for my form teacher! I keep forgetting about it and it makes me terribly guilty because he's so nice to us. He also seems to think that one day I'll do something great. In the birthday note he wrote me and in the good-luck-for-olevel-notes he gave everyone, he said things like how I would go on to make my mark, blaze a trail, etc. For the life of me I don't know how I could ever live up to something like that. I don't even know what I want to do.

Yesterday we had the very very lame teacher's day celebrations (Ms Jaya does a wonderful impression of an ox, I think, and Mr. Adrian makes a wonderful penguin) which Mrs Tham my MEP teacher flippantly responded to with a, 'Aiyah, can skip teacher's day or not? I think can lah.' After that weng jun, zhuwei, beverly, vanessa, yiying, myra and I went to j8 where we went to pastamania and Ate. It wasn't really enough. There was a tiny hawaiian pizza and I had a portion of baked rice which was so very good. Then Bev's house, where we gazed at the computer for hours playing this investigation game where we had to Spot the Items, most of which were very impractically stored. Imagine a corn cob in the ceiling.

Reached home at 6.30 and bathed and headed straight to the bus stop to meet Robyn. We got on 156 but there wasn't any money in my (sister's) card and none of us had coins so we got off and took a cab to Bishan. The train was gloriously almost empty, and we reached City Hall with all the hurried briskness of re4 guo1 shang4 de ma2 yi3. We walked to the Esplanade, a path I have taken one too many times - it is so crowded and you always get the feeling that you are about to be late.

We were extremely early. We got a seat at the concourse (finally!) and waited for The Analog Girl to make her appearance. I saw cool people, worldly and assured, skinny and gorgeous, couply and gross. Played with Robyn's camera. It's fun to go out with people with dslrs. Though I have never tried, it would probably be easy to mess around with them and make them fear for the safety of their electronic babies. The opportunities paranoia unfolds!

Then I saw this cool girl with purple tights and rainbow socks, who turned out to be The Analog Girl herself. I like her music. Robyn points out that it would take a certain degree of confidence to pull off the whole purple tights-rainbow socks getup, but I thought she was a rather jittery, uncertain performer. The music echoing around her seemed so personal, it felt like she was a shy girl whose inner thoughts were suddenly broadcast on loudspeaker and sounding out all around her, making her uncertain of how to react.

And if you haven't heard her, her sort of music requires her to shift continuously between the computer table and the mike. So it was rather awkward when we had to wait as she bent over the table, jabbing fingers at some object to create sounds, long hair completely obscuring her face. Polite applause in between songs. Nevertheless it was still kinda cool and she had nifty gadgets that produced divine sounds.

Possibly it was just the audience. I took pictures of the audience. As cool as they looked, they were completely passive. Inert. They looked fat even when they weren't. Recently there was a newspaper article saying 'are Singaporeans waiting to be served?' and yes, yes, I do think we are.

We wanted to eat at New York New York! Gorgeous place, I like the cheese sticks. But we decided that it'd be too expensive and we didn't have enough money between us, so we went to j8 and pastamania (twice in a day!), where I got an entire plate of baked rice all to myself (WOOT) and Robyn got minestrone soup. I always stumble over the pronunciation of that. Minnerstrawny. Oh I forgot to mention, on the train to Bishan there was a couple who was so mushy it was sweet/gross. He kept rubbing her waist (ALL THROUGHOUT THE TRIP wow his wrist muscles must be stunning) and surprisingly, she wasn't ticklish. And they were standing very close together, so whenever the train rocked and she swayed a little closer to him(very often), he would kiss her forehead.

Amazing.

Today I had tuition at Bev's house and I was late but it was cool. There always seems to be something to eat in her house. Went to popular, bought the guide to o'level chemistry, went home, did Han homework, FELL ASLEEP. It was a good thing that I slept cos I was exhausted. I had a dream. I never dream in the afternoon. Today I did.

It involved being overseas, and being at the airport, and waiting for planes to come. I had just arrived in a new country for some camp, and I was in the toilet, where a girl saw me and hissed at her companion 'It's Stacy', and she said my name so venomously. It reminds me of that scene in Cats (the musical) where the outcast Grizabella returns home and finds herself ostracized and avoided, in a place where she was once the glamour cat. Popular It girl becomes a detested nobody. I don't know how that ended up exactly, but I think it was also in part inspired by an embarrassing incident in primary school.

I got a boyfriend, too. It was at a bench outside a crowded hall. I noticed my ex-French classmate and cheerfully sat down to ask how he was doing, and then we were engaged in conversation. Then somehow my head was on his lap, and he was smiling, and we were officially Together. There was a jealous rival too; it was a guy whom I'd always thought was gay(no, not modelled on anyone I know), and he saw us together, and in a fit of desolation and rage, ran away.

As is with most dreams of course, these two paragraphs can't at all capture the whole feel of it. It was a cool dream. There was loneliness and sadness and hope and love, none triumphing over any of the others, but existing potently as individuals.

At 6 we left for the paternal side's cousin's gathering. All the distant relatives, cousins I don't know, etc. Apparently I have an uncle who distributes beer for carlsberg, and an undergraduate aunt who flys planes. It was a beautiful condo. There were small Caucasian boys who could understand the things their Chinese nanny said to them. There was a Chinese looking, androgynous person who spoke casual French with a brilliant, thick accent. I didn't know most people. As much as I would've liked company other than Stefi, it was hard to imagine mingling with these group of strangers. They all looked so domestic and indifferent.

It was boring shit. We left for Borders and spent a lot of money. I bought the latest Artemis Fowl book (WOOHOO!), a Truman Capote book (I forgot the title) and Wuthering Heights. Stefi bought Nancy Drew stuff. Then we went home. I caught a bit of House and it was fabulous. Now I'm here, and now I'm gone. Byebye!

I just bought a chicklit book for twelve dollars at mobil because i was desperately wanting something to read.

Jealousy is an ugly thing to confess but it is also a horrible thing to feel; is it a sin to be jealous? I don't want to die jealous. And also, can I ever accept myself for who I am - so blatantly flawed and inferior in so many ways? Why are human beings not born equal; why are some people born prettier, smarter, more persuasive, more charming, more insightful, more talented, more intelligent, more accepting? How could Atticus Finch live with himself? Why are some human beings born with a higher propensity to feel jealous? Why are some people socially inept? Why are some people unable to think of witty things to say? Why are some people Singaporean Chinese? Why do some people have acutely accurate intrapersonal skills but absolutely no people skills? Why are some people's weddings more successful than others?

Human beings are stupid, shallow, callous and insensitive. Even those who have insight into human behaviour. We would rather be vain and flounce around giggling and being happy, greeting all the people and feeling like the classic glamorous social butterfly, savouring art and life and beauty and love, than sit down and look people in the eye to see what life really is. when we ask 'how was your day' and the answer fails to fit in with the good natured, happy mood, one dares not ask further. Even if we want to be or pride ourselves on being people whom others can confide in, the truth remains that it takes effort and hard work to be a good listener, to shift the orbit away from yourself, to someone else. And as is the custom with all things requiring hard work - people are unwilling to get down to it.

My parents never sat me down to teach me to use chopsticks, or eat vegetables, or wear my watch properly, or tie my shoelaces. All these things I either had to teach myself, or leave out completely. They never taught me how to socialize, how to order food from a hawker without feeling awkward, how to speak Chinese or dialect, or how to cry in a manner such that everyone would notice me. They taught me how to speak English, how to be ashamed when my cutlery hit my teeth when I ate, how not to boast. I excelled at these things. For everything else I had no teacher and as a student, I failed.

Silk underwear.

Some things I never knew you could inherit. I was so amused I planned to take pictures and post them up, before realizing that it would be quite indecent. Sometimes in the excitement of the moment you forget what things really are. Like 'oh my god you amusing little creatures, let's move you to a place where the light is better, oh wow is that LACE adorning the hem of your... pantyline?'

The generous person who has kindly relinquished her underwear in favour of more mortal comforts is an unmarried aunt who is recovering from ear cancer and is going to stay with her brother so she can be taken care of. And so she is giving away her belongings. Which explains why I am now the bewildered owner of several gypsy necklaces, bracelets, gorgeous felt pouches and um, luxury lingerie.

I have the sneaky suspicion Snowy the pomeranian would benefit from some cosplay. He already has a doggy kimono. Could attempt a burlesque touch. Le petit chien, version sexy!

Had a long post but scrapped the whole thing in favour of SIMPLE. GODDAMNED. PROFANITY. A girl at the bus stop; her school said 'MFSS' and I was absentmindedly going 'Mother...fucker...secondary...school' before realizing what I just said.

Gorgeous guy here, plus So-Lo by Kate Havnevik has been on constant repeat. I guess it's time for me to do maths tuition worksheets but I keep feeling there's something I need/want to do, it is so distracting and honestly? I just feel like ceasing to exist for a moment.

william wordsworth makes me happy. I should've been born in 19th century england.

--------

16th August, Saturday, 1.09pm

'acceptance', 'redemption', 'friendship'

I am starting to learn that these things are not so easy, or perhaps I am just getting old.

If you're in the vicinity, or anywhere in Singapore really, you now have an invitation to the road outside my house. Standing outside my house, waiting for the gate to open, I discovered that the neighbours have planted some flowers in the patch of grass that I'd always thought belonged to us.

Ambiguous territory, then? Or wind pollination.

The flowers are most beautiful, and there is a delicate tendril of starry red flowers wound around the slanting branch of the palm tree. It looks so gentle and thin, I could easily tear it away. I don't know if it's a parasite.

-----

17th August, Sunday, 12.39a.m.

I do like Mr. Mennen better than Mr. Marc now. Everyone seems to find his lessons unbearable, which explains why everyone skips Maths tuition when it's his turn to teach, which makes the classroom extremely empty and quiet, which I like. Mr. Mennen is perhaps boring and so methodical... but he's thorough. Which is a trait I really appreciate, with olevels coming up. Whereas Mr. Marc is just 'Timecheck? Oh god. Shall we run now? Shall we run? Okay ah, next question! Pro-bah-billity!'

Mr. Mennen seems dedicated to making us resigned to our fates as students. 'It's tedious but... no choice lah. Give you five minutes to do it.'

-

Look, this is Frédéric Bourdin.

And here is his wonderfully fantastic, unbelievable, unsettling story. Look at that face, those wrinkles, the receding hairline - he's about 40 years old now. He reminds me a bit of Zozie de L'Alba (Lollipop, Joanne Harris), a master actor, manipulator and chameleon who took acting to an entirely different level.

-

Look at the moon tonight it is unspeakably beautiful. I can imagine ghosts drifting in the streets - perhaps they are partying and feasting and forgetting entirely the gates of hell that await them. I wonder if one day I'll go to hell and be punished for my sins, and perhaps have some punishment alleviated because of some good I've done. But I don't think that's how it works, right? If life truly has a duality, then the doing of good in real life should not be equated to the absence of punishment in hell. If that is the case, then evil-doers wouldn't be punished in hell - they simply wouldn't be given rewards.

And everyone would simply stagnate.

Anyway believe it or not, I'm a superstitious person. My upbringing wasn't exactly steeped in Chinese tradition, but I still won't sweep the floor on Chinese New Year, and if I give wallets to people as Christmas presents, I'll put money in the wallet to represent fortune. Whenever I walk past joss sticks or food offerings, I will make a small nod of respect and try to assume an air of deference.

Walking home today the moon was wonderful and I thought of Chang'e. I bet she was inside the moon, gazing up through the bone white ceiling of her spherical celestial home, scorning the man who dared trespass on her legend.

I mean, wow, why didn't she blast moon travellers off the face of the planet? China scores! It would've been fun.

1. Beverly's fridge has plums and strange Japanese chocolate.
2. Robyn called me asking if I knew of any lime plants nearby. Yes, it means exactly what it sounds like. We used to steal limes from neighbour's pots and make lime juice out of them. Terribly sour!

Yishu: Let me tell you a Harry Potter joke. Knock knock.
Stacy: Who's there?
Yishu: You know.

Someone (jiafeng/yishu/seline) did an amazing portrait of Sirius Black's mother, evil cleavage and all. Fascinating insight into the sex appeal that spawned one of my favourite Harry Potter characters. And as much as young Tom Riddle seems a little too undelicate for me, I am looking forward to the sixth movie!

Pfffrrrr. My EMaths is still really bad, whereas AMaths has been pulled up from a C6 to a B3. A high B3. Almost an A2, almost an A1! I missed A2 by 0.5 marks so I feel a bit like kicking myself but I'm glad I've improved, either way. Here's to an A1 for prelims!

EL prelim oral results are out and I am a natural fluent reader with good enunciation who speaks just a little too fast. Coolio.

Everyone who steps foot into Swissôtel on 25th November for the CHIJ St. Nicholas Girls' School Graduating Batch's Prom will have to pay S$80. That's what it implies on the reply slip. There is no implication that we are allowed to skip prom. Oh dear.

I'm playing piano accompaniment for Wen Man and we've practised together like, twice. Exam on Monday. Amazingly we didn't fall out of rhythm and gaze at each other in awkward wonder at the many ways a song can be screwed up. Thank goodness none of us have bad rhythm - one two three one two three one two three.

Do you know what one of the only things I like about MEP is. When everyone is crowded together in a room just before an exam, each person practising their separate instruments - one can hear people singing lyrics to an obscure Italian aria, pianos banging deep staccato chords, violinists dying as all their life passes elegantly into their mournful, straining instruments, a dizi and a flute playing Pachelbel's canon in unison in a strange union of east and west, and the muted tinkling sound of a piano playing in the actual exam room next door.

Heterophonic noise. It is thick and noisy like a musical marketplace but everyone goes on playing their songs anyway, knowing where to put their fingers and having the melody firmly rooted in their heads.

Oh and today a tall tree with thin bark (tropical climate, no extreme cold/dry conditions hence trees don't need to protect themselves with thick bark) collapsed (shallow roots as due to high rainfall, roots don't have to source too deep in the ground for water, and moreover they have a rich layer of topsoil due to rapid decomposition of leaves and shit), uprooting/bending a pink metal railing that surrounds the primary section. COOL MAN.

Oh and Singapore is officially guaranteed a silver medal for olympics table tennis. Gah. Sometimes I wish we would boycott the Olympics for no particular reason, and commit ourselves to becoming a nation of dedicated nerds. It would be damn cool, the library would be the place to hang out, and it would become socially acceptable to be socially inept.

Happy Poetry Friday, everyone! Happy silver medal day! Happy Stacy gets a B3 for AMaths day!

Observe this dew-drenched rose of Tyrian gardens
A rose today.  But you will ask in vain
Tomorrow what it is; and yesterday
It was the dust, the sunshine, and the rains.
Christina Rosetti

Pfou.

Every once in a while I absolutely cannot bear listening to anything on my phone (my, how delicate that sounded) and I delight myself with choral music, classical music, anything that doesn't sound modern. (The only exceptions I might make are Boys Like Girls' cover of Let Go by Frou Frou, Imogen Heap, and Alanis Morissette)

I've always loved Edelweiss, and here it is sung by Terry and Lorin Wey, alumni of the Vienna Choir Boys. I particularly like the parts where the tenor and soprano parts sing together. And I also discovered the duet of the cats, sung by the same two boys. The whole song comprises just one word: meow. Singers meow over and over again however they like it. I think it's a really lovely way to completely forget about lyrics and lose yourself purely in the music- of course this is a little biased coming from me because I can never remember lyrics. Except to all the Britney Spears songs, Edelweiss, the national anthem, the Zhonghua school song, Jesus loves the little children, etc.

I wish I lived in a country where we have songs like Edelweiss - not composed specifically for national day, not composed on crappy radio shows, not cheesy, not explicit... and yet unanimously declared to be synonymous with our country. Art, this way, cements the identity of a people. Love without reason or explanation!

Marcel Nguyen, Fabian Hambuechen, Dragulescu, Yoo Wonchul!

Oh my god I'm watching the NDP celebration on tv and I ran out of the house several times to try to catch the aeroplanes, to no avail. Then my dad suggested I go to the attic so I ran up two flights of stairs and out into the balcony and I SAW 4 FIGHTER PLANES FLYING DIRECTLY OVER MY HOUSE OH MY GOD SO FREAKING COOL.

Every year I get bored stiff by the celebrations then the air force starts doing their thing and I'm like DAMNIT WHY AM I NOT THERE. There is something so exhilarating and liberating about aeroplanes that literally rises above everything else and makes you completely forget the clichéd performances, bored soldiers and dowdy parliament people and just gaze upwards in wonder. To the skies!

Okay I can't wait for the fireworks!

-

Went to Beverly's house today at 8.30a.m. (bus, legs, etc.) to have Maths tuition and wow I think I understand vectors now. I swear, also, that everything is brighter and more vivid in Bishan... at least in the morning when a skinny sleepy lady in a shapeless pink cartoon nightgown and crocs steps out into the streets and jaywalks across the road to have breakfast. The crows peck at something on the green sidewalk grass, the hot security guard nods at you, and upon taking the lift to floor 24, a man and his baby son thank you as you hold the door open for them.

Girl: They say Britain mei3 you3 bei4 conquer guo4, suo2 yi3 ta1 men2 mei3 you3 independence day! *peals of laughter*
Boyfriend: *Exclaims and makes cute stilted conversation*

Man on bus on phone: Taxi drivers ah, they don't have hunch also walk with a hunch! Of course they walk like that lah, everyday sit sit sit! You see them walk only ah, you know is taxi driver one.

<3

Happy National Day, everyone :)

I just watched the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics. It was the most fantastic, amazing thing ever and I could not imagine a better coming out party for China. Srsly no one parties like the Chinese. The word that came to mind was long2 zhong4, as I thought of the stunningly grand celebrations they must have had in the Forbidden Palace hundreds of years ago, and it was like - oh, fabulousness? it's in our history.

<33