--Note--
Is the lead actor in Torque the same guy who played Isildur in FOTR?
Is the Mathieu Kassovitz who directed Gothika THE Mathieu Kassovitz in Amelie?

I may or may not have made a mistake, or broken a resolution. Not that I care about that, duh, ("broken" being affected and pretentious, like gasp! I'm not allowed to fail) but was it inevitable? Such an aptitude for self-creating trouble, if it be counted as trouble. To show it, I SHALL QUOTE A WILL YOUNG SONG.

I think I'd better leave right now
Before I fall any deeper
[Young, Will, Leave Right Now, PopIdolEuroPop, UK, 2004]

My brother is watching taped American Idol upstairs and laughing fit to kill himself. My mother is telling me to keep my clothes for the 1903207th time (saying that as proof that I Don't Care who sees unkept clothes). It is Friday! Do you think the strangled-goat version of Ain't No Mountain High Enough is available for download (not saying that I'm actually planning to download)?
Wednesday I ate delicious beehoon at the Central Narcotics Bureau (that was a couple times better than anything consumed at CAP "teas" or "receptions", more affected words). I also saw a urine-testing machine and a Powerpoint presentation about caning. I wish I'd stayed in school for the altruistic reasons. Mona is a very nosy and gossipy woman. (What's the probability of her reading that? Is she likely to type her name into Internet search engines? Can she use a computer?) She also seems to realize that I fall asleep in her lessons FOR A REASON, i.e. she's BORING. Either that or I stayed up too late watching reality TV.
Yesterday the CWC ran a v. successful PR campaign. J1s literally leaked out of TS2, ate chocolates, answered questions about authors and poetry, and listened patiently to monologues (or monologue). Fully began to comprehend the idea that there are benefits in a similar-interest club, delayed reaction, YOU WILL LOSE OUT! I'M DEVASTATED! Andrew likes to draw Unidentified Objects. I'm also a lousy secretary. HO! SELF-IMPORTANCE! (I realize that I am shouting and deadpanning a lot.)
I think I could listen to the LOTR soundtrack for the rest of my life and not get sick of it. My sister likes to blah blah blah about trumpets and French horns and preferring 'em to clarinets, and flutes, though the latter are beautiful instruments, but anyway, the music could wash you away for ever. Or whatever, you're swimming in it.

That's what makes the difference today
I hope you blow away
I hope you blow away

Sang a sad and jaded man, but maybe the IDEA of being sad and jaded is more interesting than actually being sad and jaded.

Fever
Someone's lit a furnace just behind my eyeballs, in between, nestling around the bridge of my nose. It's an extremely dull ache that extends to the recesses of my skull, orange and flaming slightly. My nose is completely blocked and runny alternately, and every time I try to speak I can only croak. Only it comes out weak and limber, like the vocal chords are all twisted up and swollen.
I don't really mind that, though, because that means fewer visitations to relatives' houses where people bring oranges and return them. Wow, it's so easy to be pessimistic when you're sick. Just because a blog post needs a particular mood.
Happy CNY, really, nothing's ever officially wrong, although sometimes it feels like it is. I'm now officially in the CAP Mentorship Programme. Ambiguously, is it fair to say that the CWC teacher is biased, when she was the one who picked me? Actually, I know she is, but when it's for my benefit, let's overlook it or people will say you're being overly modest...

Lapsing into Swahili

"I haven't heard you speak," says she, jabbing the air in front of me with an accusing finger. I'M BLOODY USELESS, OK? I GAVE A SUGGESTION TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM, BUT DID ANYONE LISTEN? No, it's no one's fault but my own, although I imagine Olivia the Pig, button-cute, mouth always wide open in high-volume protest. What's the point of complaining? Blah, blah, blah. I'm always "so tired", it's no wonder I do crap work, and solve no problems.
A taxi-driver "with grandchildren" decided to tell me all about his love life on the ride from RJ to Serene Centre. I can't tell whether he's cheating on his wife or not.
There is no such thing as an eloquent silence anymore, I wrote in one of my notebooks. How many have you seen? Count them on your fingers. Yes, you can see silence. I watched too many artsy Japanese English-subtitled movies, and too little of Gilmore Girls. Actually, I don't watch TV. And when I want to talk, where's the silence? Clogged as the pores on my face.
History essays and Russian salads can ruin moments, you know, and you have to pretend you didn't notice or didn't mind. Because maybe you didn't so much, because it was stupid to, but because of what you didn't do, or couldn't have -
I'm sorry, but what exactly was so good about Love Me If You Dare? You call it romantic, I call that morbid. Or maybe there was something I missed, being so miserable about the grainy corner of a wall-to-wall mural. The French love to shock, don't they? What was I supposed to feel?

"... lightly envious with an irrelevant thought - no one will show they're not needed, after all, is all. They show off. And they took each other's hands with affection, that's all."

Happy the
Eyes mosaic by black leaves, oval
And sharp-edged,
Quivering with dew or tears,
Since it was happy to be sad,
And sad to be happy.
It spied pupiless into warm windows,
Wishing for a world where it was no
Longer imagery, but concrete
Reality. Not realizing as scraps of sky
And framed of workingwhirl, it was
Already in the world.

Gone fishing
SERIOUS CRISIS! (Hah!) I cannot view my blog. It is erronous. Until I realized that I can still post. I just can't view it after it's published, or anybody else's for that matter.
We watched Wit starring Emma Thompson during Lit lecture today, and my computer and Prof Bearing have a lot in common. They are both cancerous and crotchety. Although of course it is stupid and unfeeling to make jokes about life-threatening diseases.
School has started! And it is as full a thing as possible. The J1s troop around cheering and having the time of their lives. The exhilaration unforgettable. Sitting at the overlooking hall balcony, you get a bird's-eye view, and not just of the whole batch/sea of white/navy blue with spots of minority colours. Jian An is entering NS next week, which makes me just a little sad for obvious reasons - having to say goodbye to an OGL, who helped your start here, and yourself, leaving soon enough. Although nothing was rosy (often muddy and confusing in fact), you can't forget or underappreciate anything after.
Gads, it's 7th Jan, is it not? Mel's coming next week, as is my (very old and practically not my generation) cousin for their visits. (Mel, if you're staying at the Ghim Moh area you've gotta visit me in school! Pop in and wave.) Blaaagh. I caught the movie bug thanks to LOTR and Amelie (Mathieu Kassovitz is exquisitely charming, and reminds me strongly of a certain *NSYNC member) but I can't "see the stories". Love Me if You Dare, School of Rock, Goodbye Lenin! - the catch is in but I can't reel 'em.
Reel 'em all in.

Eurgh
Happy new year!

A future in Powerpoint slide design...
Shadows...

Crushing cups (CFC-free)...

Screenshots...


Shirts of the wrong colour...

Hooray!