My essay on depression (it was indeed a depressing thing to write!) is finished but I'm so sure it's nothing short of Shit. Capital S. It should all be in capitals actually, so SHIT. Think complete toad green, butt ugly, fresh, smelly poo. Lovely. Maybe it's because my spirits got a bit broken, battered and fried yesterday. I received my marks for my political science assignment. 16/20. I was dreading seeing a red 12 or lower scrawled on the paper, so obviously, I was happy. All smiles; you'd think that someone told me there'll be no finals this semester.

Next thing I know, the lecturer announces that the average mark was 17. SEVENTEEN.


*stomp stomp scream bloody murder!! stomp some more*

Do you know what that means?! It means every bloody person got a high distinction, BUT yours truly. Okay, not exactly, but it might as well be that. :P Sure, I got a distinction, but big fat hairy deal when you know that the people sitting next to you, in front of you and behind you got one whole damn grade higher. Not a mark, a GRADE. Someone please shoot me. I never thought that one day I'd be so mad at getting distinctions in university. What. the. hell.

It doesn't help that I overheard a bastard behind me say that he got an eight-bloody-teen and that he didn't put in any effort... He deserves to be shot! :( Well, the next essay is out of 30 and the lecturer said the average mark should be about 15 or 17. I almost feel like I should expect a 14 or 16. :P Or worse. Argh nooo...

Fried assignments, anyone? *beams like the sun is shining from her arse* They're free. Just promise me I'll never see them ever again.

Isn't it obvious I'm not concentrating even though my sorry arse is here in the uni library on a public holiday? I swear, if I have to read any more on depression, I'll turn depressed myself. :P Who the hell doesn't know that women are more prone to suffer from major depressive episodes than men? Hello? This essay is pointless, pointless. I should've decided on the other one: would you prefer your romantic partner to have positive illusions about you or see you as you see yourself?

Now that would be interesting, wouldn't it? Okay, example: a man and woman (romantic partners) are off to a party. Man tells woman she looks so beautiful, she'll be the belle of the ball (I know, who the fuck says such things, but just take it). Well, she isn't that beautiful, and the 'ball' is gonna be full of supermodels. But what enfolds...

1) The woman is happy. Oh, they've happily forgotten about the party.

 OR

2) The woman screeches, "OMFG, what is wrong with you?! Can't you see this bloody humongous zit on my face? I swear, that woman at (insert expensive beauty products brand name here) told me it'd disappear once I buy this gazillion dollar product and apply it overnight. What complete BS! And I've put on so much weight from last week's binge drinking that I went up one dress size! You bloody didn't notice it! And we're gonna be meeting the new Heidi Klums and Kate Moss tonight, what the hell makes you think I'd be the most gorgeous woman there?!" She continues bitching and bitching, the man ends up apologising over.. nothing, really. He really does think she is the most beautiful creature alive, but that doesn't sit too well with her.

And if the man didn't have romantic illusions about her, he wouldn't have told her any of that. All he would have said to her would've been along the lines of 'You look fine.  We're late. Come on, let's go.'

What do you think?

Next example: woman loses her job. Man tells woman it's the company's loss because she's so bloody brilliant, they're gonna be begging for her to come back once she hits it big (in actual fact, she's far from brilliant). And the next thing that happens:

1) 'Aw, thanks, darling.' Lots of TLC. Wow, the bedroom's suddenly too far away.

 OR

2) 'No, it's not their loss. I was horrid at my job. I never finished any of the company's assignments, I was late thrice last week and twice the week before. I think that I do have no future in this field. Don't see how I ever thought I'd be good at this." cries over her loss. Man is confused, and tries to tell her that they're wrong, but obviously, he's too blinded to see that she's actually right.

The man with no positive illusions: You can get a new job somewhere else. I saw a vacancy at blah-blah (not necessarily even a teensy bit glamorous). Resume, chop chop.

Interesting topic, isn't it?

I watched the Lee Hom DVD Ben sent me all the way from London last night and I've decided that it is impossible that every straight girl does not lust for her very own Lee Hom. There has to be something so wrong with you if you don't. Can't you picture the man himself singing to you as you snuggle in your own bed with the warmth of your quilt and drift off slowly to a Dreamland filled with rainbows and chocolate fountains and of course, more Lee Hom? ... Those vocals are out of this world!

Chinked out, alright. Completely.

(For those who don't know, he has created his own Oriental hip-hop sound that he calls 'chinked out'. I'm not dissing my own race, doh.)

Gotta love Lee Hom!

I'm not even in the mood for chocolate... That's how horrible I feel. I can eat it but it'll taste the same as paper, water... My head is spinning a little, stomach contents are swimming about, and if ever I felt so senseless in my entire life, I don't remember it...

I can't answer why, or how, or even when... All I know is I did something so wrong last night that I can't fix it, and I don't remember throwing all my beliefs and principles out the window. I want them back. I want to say that I didn't screw things up, but my actions were completely contradictory to my words.

At times like these, I really wonder if I know who I am and whether I am doing anything right.

THE boy*: Start on your assignment. If not, no wine for you tonight!

Before I go on further, yeah, we've gone back to becoming friends. Actually, I'm not sure we were ever friends. But we are now. I guess it's time to get rid of his nickname.

Well, we made an agreement that if THE boy* Nick finishes his assignment tonight, we're gonna get a bottle of red wine with dinner. But he forgets that I am indeed the queen of procrastination who has yet to start her essay that's due on Thursday. Even if Tuesday is a public holiday, Wednesday is a full day from 11-6. I haven't even called my supervisor to tell her that I won't be working on Thursday and Friday, what with handing in my assignment on Thursday right before it's due, and replacement class and my presentation on Friday. Yeah, I haven't started that either, though I'm positive that can be written in an hour tops. It's not confidence, it's just that history speaks for itself; I always come through for assignments.

Nick: Like you said, you need to change your attitude and start working on it.

Me: Big deal. I always say it. I bet the people who are close to me have heard it enough, they're gonna start saying it in their sleep.

Come Wednesday night, I'll shoot myself for my insolence. I'm way too stubborn for my own good when it comes to being just a bit more organised about schoolwork, but funnily enough, I can easily make way for other stuff with no textbooks involved to happen, happen, happen. Like that party on Monday night. I said I'll go if I manage to start my assignment. Wanna bet that I'll be able to start it?

Of course, the definition of 'starting' is a little flexible, don't you think? ;)

Have you ever felt that sorry doesn't cut what you truly feel..? It's like you can say it over and over again, keep banging your head against that brick wall, and you'd still feel that it doesn't show how sorry you are.. Ultimately, words seem to fail..

I'm sorry...

I stared at the rattan chair, studying the patterns that the maker wove and then suddenly, there was a hole. Empty. Broken. Staring at it made me feel like... I could fall, and I could get away from what I wanted. Just tell him that I didn't want to talk after all, and run, run, run... Run home. Run anywhere.

But of course, I couldn't... Not when he was looking over at me silently. Not when he grabbed my arm and demanded to know what was wrong. I thought, don't make me say it. Please don't. I heard my strained voice tell him to wait for our drinks, like I wasn't there and I was just listening to a recording of my voice. Look anywhere. Avoid his inquistive looks. I hid my face in my hands; it was impossible trying to pretend I wasn't carrying this weight in me that I was about to unleash. And then the dreaded drinks arrived and he told me to just say what I thought...

I took a deep breath and nothing came out. I tried again. And I was successful. But God, success hurt this time...

The talking began... escalated... and then it died. Because it was pointless. Circles ending back at the same point. It died down to mere looks and avoiding him and the simple strangers. I wish I hadn't seen the hurt on your face, the pain, and the anguish... cause I knew I was causing all that. If before I had never known I had that capacity, it hit me in full force today.

We tried to go around this. We both did. But I was the one tired of looking for a way around it, and only wanted the green exit sign to flash at me. If only it hadn't asked for so much in return. Blunt. Rude. Outright. Honest. Be mean and a complete bitch. I'm sorry I hurt you... I'm sorry that I can't stay and be the one that makes you happy... I'm sorry you thought the world of me only to have me tell you that I'm someone who has to go...

It's not that we're wrong.... We're just not right.

If two people were happy and together in an empty room, they would still have the most amazing time of their lives...

We're not those two people. All I did was realise it sooner than you did and I know you'll know I'm right, if you don't already know it.. Don't hope to turn back time. Don't wish for yesterday. Don't tell yourself it's a dream. We didn't own up to the truth yesterday..

We did today...

Sorry this post is a day late; I was extremely tired last night. Got up at 7 after managing to sleep at 2ish (I've been having difficulty sleeping these past few nights) to cook the surprise breakfast for THE boy* and his siblings. Well, I would feel weird if I only made breakfast for him! :P













I caught the bus, and then walked to THE boy*'s place. I got to the door and gave him a call. He was still asleep (it was 9 am), lol, and I told him to open the door. And ooh!!



I thought the rose was fake since the leaves looked so shiny. Then I touched the petals and smelled it. :)



After he ate, we watched Bleach for awhile, since it was too early for lunch.



Since he said he wanted to do more reading, we headed to Myer and bought Dan Brown's Angels and Demons. Lunch was Japanese.



Then, I said, "Let's go to Chinatown for tau foo fa!" We took the bus there, and guess what? The bloody shop was closed. Grr.. So we went to the supermarket instead and I got gui ling gao, black herbal jelly, and he got nata de coco. We sat on the bench, ate, and talked. Later I proposed we go to Gloria Jean's.



I fell asleep leaning on his shoulder while hugging Nick the bear. I didn't squish the rose! :)





Uni friends saw us at the restaurant and figured that it was the anniversary from the bear. Then we caught the train and I caught another bus home cause I was too tired to walk. I'm glad I didn't fall asleep standing up.

It was a good day with THE boy*. :)

Well, work today was alright. Straightforward enough. After 3 hours of work today, I'm now sick of sushi. Noooo... :( Well, I'll never be sick of the sushi back home so long as Genki's continues serving Spider Temakis and Genki Makis. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry when I was told to smile more at the end of my shift. My facial muscles were aching already! I really think the supervisor wasn't looking when I was smiling or I'm meant to smile when I'm actually packing the sushi. :P

That's it, guys! Back to work tomorrow again. I hope I don't show my disgust for sushi to the customers. :P