So I thought I'd do this again since it worked quite well the other time. And because I know you guys will do this cause you're so lovely *bats imaginary Bambi-like eyelashes* and it doesn't take you 5 secs to pick one, unlike actually typing your name, leaving a comment, going through word verification, waiting forfuckingever for it load and then finally say, yes, your comment has been uploaded, or no, you have failed word verification, which brings about colourful language. :P

I need a haircut! It's almost close to the usual time when I actually go home and get one, but since I'm not heading home this time, *sniff* I'll have to pay an extravagant amount to get it done here. Fricking rip-off wankers. *cough* Anyway, this is what my hair looks like now:






Now I wish I had smiled in those pictures cause it might actually be more persuasive. :( Bah, blame it on the French exam which didn't go so well (and no, it's not because I didn't study and took photos of myself instead =P).

So be nice, please vote. It's below my profile on the sidebar. Oh, I also randomly took a picture of my 'study area'.



Yes, this is where I sit and entertain myself reading all your blogs. ;) And procrastinate. Like now. Right. Fricking. Now.

Okay, that didn't work. Psychology wins. I'm going back to studying. :P

Now vote before I fling all my split ends at you!

This is an Ian-style post. Thanks, Ian! :)

The Self-Report Me: So I got up this morning, had breakfast and continued to procrastinate another day away getting rid of my MySpace layout cause it's annoyingly pink and etc etc online, then grocery shopping.

The Realistic Me: Champion, you. Now who's gonna study Social and Organisational Psych, huh?!! You need a 5!

The Glutton Me: *punches The Realistic Me* I WANNA TALK! Heyyyy, I got 2 more baklavas from the deli, yay! You need food. You know you love foodddd. And now I'm on this mad baklava run and I seriously regret not trying the ones in London. The ones yesterday did nothing besides... okay, let's not conjure up The Vain Me. I came home and had a hot chocolate after not giving in to the cafe selling a small one for $3.70...

The El Cheapo Me: Well, that was quite ridiculous.

The Glutton Me: Yeah, I know. Now shush. I'm still talking. And I continued to eat loads of peanut cookies. They're stupidly addictive and I'm quite stuffed. I hope I'll still have the stomach for spaghetti marinara and garlic bread.

The Vain Me: OMG, you're killing yourself! Hallo, why lah did you eat so many of those cookies?! I saw you looking at them and considering my voice telling you to stoppppppp! But noooo, you didn't listen to me! Huh!? I'm the voice of reason!

The Realistic Me: Shut up, that's me.

The Glutton Me: But... I had more hot chocolate left! And it's one biscuit per mouthful of hot chocolate...

The Truthful Me: She lies. I saw her pop a few in her mouth at one point.

The Glutton Me: BITCH! *punches The Truthful Me* Noooo... okay, I did. But that was like, one time... Maybe two!

The Vain Me: *shakes head in disapproval* And I'll bet you're gonna underestimate the amount of spaghetti again and end up with a giant plate, besides the garlic bread.

The Truthful Me: Well, they were an honest mistake, vain one.

The Vain Me: Shut up, biatch. Whose side are you on anyway?!

The Self-Report Me: Moving along from afternoon tea, I spent 20 bucks on groceries, not inclusive of the baklavas...

The El Cheapo Me: Woman... you didn't need the guacamole or the fetta cheese or those baklavas. What the hell were you thinking? Haven't you opened the kitchen cabinet lately? Oi! What about Melbourne?! Save money!

The Realistic Me: Well.... there's that money I saved up from work...

The Truthful Me: Yeah, and you still wanna buy that trench coat. Remember?

The El Cheapo Me: And you keep spending and spending. Don't forget the blenders and grill that you just bought!

The Glutton Me: Ohhhh, don't talk about Melbourne. *groan* I can salivate thinking about the various. chocolate. tourssss.....

The Vain Me: You see!! OMGWTF did you buy all those things for?! And baklavas for dessert. You had that yesterday! Speaking of dessert, why the hell did you start a dessert regime? WTF were you thinking?!

The Glutton Me: *meekly* Umm.. that I like something sweet and warm after dinner...?

The Vain Me: Carrots are sweet what! You dumb dumb! *grabs textbook and hits The Glutton Me repeatedly*

The Self-Report Me: Well... who wants to study now?

*All versions of me give sulky look and bash The Self-Report Me*

P/S: I do not in any way condone violence. It's the peanut cookies that did it.

Dear Trinity,

Sometimes my relief is beyond words when you know exactly when to grab that scissors and cut the dress off my skin. And then you become my pillar as I learn to breathe again.

I don't say it enough but thanks.

Now let's finish that bottle of hot chocolate and marshmallows and tackle these *toot*ing pile of crappy exams (because no swear word will prove adequate). The holidays are not that far away; I can almost hear the guide telling us about the best chocolates in Melbourne. =)

Love,
Moi

Procrastination is the thief of time
I am the biggest procrastinator.
Therefore, I'm stealing my own time.
Damn, such a bitchy thing to do. *looks at ceiling*

Four exams.
None down, all to go.

... OMG how la? =.=

On a random note, I went to a cinema an hour away from my house apartment unit and caught Paris, Je T'aime with Kassy. Some segments are gonna stay in this head of mine for awhile, like Gurinder Chada's (Bend It Like Beckham). If you didn't know, the movie is based on 18 short films that are set in 18 of the 20 arrondisements (you could say divisions) of Paris. And yes, they're all about love.

Fall in love eighteen times. *Dreamy sigh*

No, wait, that's too many.

*frowns*

Blah lah.

Karenella writes poetry that hits the spot. I got permission to upload a piece, yay! The title of this one is this post's title. I didn't edit anything because in my opinion, it's pretty damn perfect.

Ill be the best nightmare

You ever had

Leave you wanting more than what you get

Make you want to stay in bed

Impress me

With those witty one liners

Emo-punk-rock-pop

And Ill be your ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Odette

Wont pretend to care and not

Whether you white-out my heart

Or not

 

Ill climb the highest mountain

But dont expect me to come back down again

Once Ive been to heaven

Im not coming back for you

 

Im selfish, thats true

But baby, baby, baby

So are you

 

Lay awake at night

Like gunpowder in your head

Cause its just gonna be like that

More than extraordinary

There's something in his eyes that hold your gaze for longer. It's beckons to you, like chocolate does right when you're on a stringent diet. When it could've been over, he makes it last a little longer. Come on, let's go. He smiles and teases you admist the warmth of the crowded bar as you both sip the cold beer, away from the cold streets. He asks for an invitation, and you hand it to him, along with the select numbers that will make your phone ring. And he leaves.

Now you're in the skies, higher than ever. It's that feeling. When you feel as though you can open your windows to wake up the whole of Paris and laugh and laugh like the joy of the world is at your doorstep. Then you reach cold rock bottom again. It's all gone. Where is he? Why hasn't he kept his promise? You itch and crave for the melodic tune that is your ringtone to reverberate throughout your room. It doesn't.

You give in and call.

Where are you? Yes, I... my friend needs you. Same thing. Now. See you.

Paces and paces. My God, where is he? Footsteps. Is that him? Is it, is it? Eagerly, you open the door but it's the face of a stranger.

Where is he?

He told me to help. Here you go.

Oh.

Thanks. Watch yourself.

Oui.

He's not here... again...

I'm gonna fly so high, he's never gonna find me ever again...

It's times like these when you're trying to catch a breather...

and the train leaves you running after it on the platform, screaming desperately at it to wait, then swearing like a sailor, as if the increasing number of swear words you come up with would mean the train would magically reverse back into the station and pick you up graciously.

* * *

I claimed back my possessions from my aunt's after intruding on her hospitality for 1 1/2 years. I opened these boxes and all the memories came flowing back. There were birthday cards, scented candles, burned CDs, plastic flowers, all sorts of things that I had almost forgotten about. I thought I even saw a denim miniskirt I used to wear all the time, from Easter of my first year here till, if I'm not mistaken, the time I graduated from high school.

It was my favourite skirt. I bought it when I was out with Helen and she has the exact same one, except she's very much skinnier than me. I wore it even when it had gotten too small for me. With heels, boots, knee length socks and Mary Jane's. It would be cold out and I'd be having dinner in the refectory with everyone else and my best denim miniskirt.

It's silly. Of course I knew people talked. Honestly, guys. *Shakes head* And the least discreet people when it comes to gossip are us Asians. Not that I'm saying the Australians don't. One day when I wore something very different (possibly very conservative) to dinner, Coffey, my Australian friend, pointed out that it was very different from my old short skirts and boots/high socks. Frankly, it's not that I didn't think people wouldn't notice, but rather, I was shocked anyone actually remembered what I had previously worn. Maybe cause I was the only one who dressed (strangely?) like that.

I know anyone can say this, but it wasn't about showing off at the time before I started playing football and grew large calves. Neither was it about trying to reveal more skin than any other girl. I'm pretty sure that wasn't me. At that time, I was fifteen, sixteen. Suddenly, I could do whatever I want. My mom wasn't standing right next to me, telling me this was ugly, that was too revealing, it's too plunging, way too short. I could buy... whatever.

I bought knee high socks cause I loved them but it was too hot to wear in KL. More denim skirts went into my wardrobe whether short, long or medium in length. I bought silly cheap T-shirts because I'm a budget shopper and I'm sucker for slogans. Then an expensive pair of black mid-calf boots because they were the hottest thing I had ever seen (expensive then being 40 bucks). I'd go to to the mall with nothing in mind and come back with bags and bags of stuff because I could afford it when everything was 5, 6 dollars each.

I wore new clothes to dinner because obviously they were the only time during the week that I was wearing my own clothes, besides weekends. In the beginning when we were all new, people put effort into looking their best. Then slowly, they just came to dinner in trackies/shorts/jumpers. I walked in with skirts, my black trench coat, boots, heels, knee high socks. All because I wanted to wear my new clothes. There's something about wearing something new that still makes me feel satisfied, almost invincible.

The boots are now worn and I'm throwing them away tomorrow. I bought a new flat, red pair. The miniskirt I thought I had spotted is nowhere to be seen; it's mystifying. I have wanted to buy another one for a very long time and maybe I'll hunt for one when I'm done with exams.

But what I'm trying to say is... it's not all about pleasing everyone else. Sometimes, it can just be about pleasing yourself. If I put on makeup one day (cause I hardly ever do *rolls eyes*), it might not be because there's something on but merely for myself. Cause I wanna look my best. Other people's attention might come into play, but their attention doesn't feed them, but me. In the end, how you feel about it is paramount.

Fuck what other people think.

So how do you feel? =)