Isn't this disgustingly exciting.

The Loch Ness drowns in a bathtub.
And I am her unrepentant murderer.
My 4th finger is still split into a tree graft of sorts.
I am the new freddy/jason.
My terror is widespead.
My terrible terror that makes me so scared.

This IS disgustingly exciting.

Eng has been really nice to me.
He picked me up even though he only did a half day in the hospital.
And he has been really nice about my being here.
But he doesn't like fresh vegetables.
Hahaha.

Only Earl Grey tea brings any happiness to the now rebelling stomach.
Is my whole body trying to start a mutiny?

Wanna hear something gross?
My cut is lined with pencil lead.
And it's not washing out.
Hurhurhur.
When it rains, it pours, ehy?
FCUK.

A third bus driver.
One acknowledgement.
Yay.
But -20000 points for what happened to me today.
Don't you dare put your insecurities on me anymore.
You're old enough to know not to do that.
Don't be so childish.
Don't TALK TO ME LIKE THAT.
DON'T EVER LOCK ME UP IN THAT BLOODY COLD ATTIC ROOM AGAIN.

I've really had it.
I'm not taking it anymore.
I'm sorry- it feels like I've failed.
But I don't think I want to go through this
Just to be able to say I could do it
When all I am going to get is crap.
The pros of finishing this cannot outweight the cons.
My learning isn't facilitated
And I'm constantly being put down.
You don't know what to do with me, do you?
More than that
You don't know what to do FOR me.
Is it true that I'm a threat?
Because I'm feeling intimidated, it shouldn't be you.
I cut my finger pretty badly.
And it's got a nice band aid now.
I'm a bit pooed cos it is my left hand.
But nvm.

The good things that happened:
I met with a little 6 year old. We sat in the bus and took our backpacks off at the same time. She smiled at me and I at her. I felt about her age. And I wish I could just be it.

Hannah from OT asked me to have dinner with her next week. How sweet! She is an answered prayer. The Lord continues to provide.

I need to go and pray.
Although my heart is bent in one direction (it doesn't want to continue processing daily worsening attacks)
I need to know what He says.
It's not ok anymore.

I walked out of the door this morning
Hoping to return to it bearing good news.
Today will be better, I thought.
Today will be good.
And since no one was in except me until 1pm,
It was a desperately good day.
I discovered the piano.
The other departments discovered me.
And so did the patients.
The art department and I found terrific joy in ink paintings on stretched paper.

Then it happened.
And it happened multiple times.
I'm not bloody daft.
So stop talking to me like i am.
I'm dead seriously considering quitting.
I might do it tonight.
I don't care anymore.
I don't want to be talked down to like I am an idiot.

Talk.
Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk.
It's so easy.
To talk.
But so hard to Walk.
Walk walk walk walk walk walk walk
the bloody
Talk.

Praise the Lord
O my soul
And forget not all His benefits.

By Your wounds we are healed,
Tell me, what kind of love is this?
When the expectations are too great
And the bar gets raised too high
I strain to see how high I can
Stand on these toes
Dreams shatter and gather like waves
Thank You even then.
So I put aside the masquerade and admit
that I am not ok.
Thank You Jesus,
Even when you see us just as we are,
Fragile, frail and so far from
What we want to be.

Still I call You by name.
Elbow Healer, Superhero
Come if You can,
And You said, I Am.
And when I was weak, unable to speak
Still I could call You by name
And I said Heartache Healer, Secret Keeper
Be my best friend
And you said, I Am
And when I am weak, unable to speak
Still I will call You by name
Shepherd, Savior, Pasture Maker
Hold onto my hand
You say, I Am
I will be weak, unable to speak
Still I will call You by name
Creator, Maker, Life Sustainer
Comforter, Healer, my Redeemer
Lord and King, Beginning and the End

Who You are to me, dear Lion,
Who You are. I AM.
I trust You.
Rescue me.

I awoke to these two songs and I know the Lord is near. It's 5 am again, the jet lag is persistent but workable. I don't mind being up. But, Jesus, take the wheel. I cannot do this on my own.

Carrie Underwood- Jesus Take the Wheel

Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this on my own
I'm letting go
So give me one more chance
To save me from this road I'm on
Jesus take the wheel

Bethany Dillon- Lean On.

Shoulder to the wheel
For someone else's selfish gain
Here there is no choosing
Working the clay
Wearing their anger like a ball and chain

Fire in the field
Underneath a blazing sun
Soon the sun was faded
And freedom was a song
I heard them singing when the day was done
Singing to the Holy One

Lead me on, lead me on
To a place where the river runs
Into Your keeping
Lead me on, lead me on
The awaited deliverance comforts the seeking
Lead on

Bitter cold terrain
Echoes of a slamming door
Chambers made for sleeping forever
Voices like thunder
In a mighty roar
Crying to the Lord

Man hurts man
Time and time, time again
Though we drown in the wake of our power
Somebody tell me why

I'm watching all the old videos.
"Not your birthday don't stand there, can?"
"It's my birthday! Really!"

That reminds me of:
"I'm so sad.. I want to eat the whole egg!"
"No! Cannot! Stoppit!"

And things like singing uptown girl in a crowded karaoke room.
I miss the warmth so much.

Keep me cheerful, I don't know if I can take another day.
Only by God's grace do I breathe on.
Help me. Help me.

2 pictures paint 34752937659906048278460784 words.

How strange that this describes the matter much more aptly than those 34752937659906048278460784 words.

indeed the sum is greater than the parts.

Reading a good book with indo mie is the life. Eng is out, I have used the kitchen chopping board as a tray for my food and I contemplate with much seriousness the glee-driven consumption of ice cream. It's B&J's, I cannot say no to that, it would be dreadfully impolite.

The messages have not gotten through to hypothalamus. While sleep came at midnight, i woke up at 4.30 am, feeling super refreshed. hippopotamus, it said to me, snidely. Shut up, I retorted, and went back to sleep.

Today was hard for me and Lion. I felt purpose being stolen by the cutting wind waiting on the street corner. I called.. He answered, but it seems so mundane now. He knows I'm wondering what the whole workscare is all about and I'm poopooed about Him a bit. (how audacious to be as such! If it were OT i should very well be dead).

I'm glad I'm in love with Scotland. I still recognize His hand on my life.

There is a Mr. Gentleman in the hospital. Wow. wouldn't it be funny if he wasn't one. I feel like I should be watching my weight and all that, but somehow I don't really care- I've decided to go for the ice cream since I've been on my feet all day anyway (Hospital has a lot of stairs too, I get lost a lot).

A lot of learning has happened today, and tomorrow is late night shopping (should I, can I?). I might end up buying a lot of rubbish when I should instead buy rubbish in Eds. Ok, I will go to Eds instead. On Saturday. It will be an hour's ++ train ride but at least it will be something to take my mind off things (although I like it where I am, travel atop travel is excusable, and in my case, overencouraged).

And thank the Lord, He pointed out a small Methodist church on the way to work. Looks like it's back to where I originally came from this Sunday then. Heh. Please don't be dead and old.

Tomorrow will be better. Please someone, Please Lion, tell me that's true.

I'm warmed by the fact that there are so many people who are keeping tabs on me... Through MSN, tagging, email etc. I'm really really warmed. What's Esther and Zak doing up at 3.41 am? Maybe God knew today I really needed it. You guys are just awesome. I would say that in a scottish accent but I cannot.

Two ships have pulled up in the riverside directly outside my house. It's cute to watch the neon clad gentlemen run around on the deck trying to move things around.

I have taken up saying thank you to bus drivers again.
I started doing it in Singapore when I went back a lot,
Mostly out of curiousity to see their reaction,
But also to see if i couldn't elicit a smile?
I've done it 3 times now.
2 enthusiastic responses.
1 ignored me.
Your bus drivers tell you if your country is happy.
Scotland, at this point, is a happy-ish country.
Lets hope the count rises.
Tomorrow I shall add to the mark.

Please dont think I'm mad.

String Frayed

Guys, I'm sorry to say that the grand record of not crying at work because of work has been broken. The last time the involuntary waterworks turned on was in January when I started stuttering and even then I was ok because all 4 girls were taking dreadful crap and we all took it together anyway (I remember buying Tanith a Milo bar). I never wanted to repeat that dreadful darkened day of accusational confrontation that ended in tears. Although this time was different, I still couldn't hit the emergency beaver-builds-a-dam-cos-the-flood-is-coming button. I'm so embarrassed. I cleared my tray in the 'wee bucket' and went to the bathroom (which I did announce awkwardly). And I closed the door and started to sob. A good 15 minutes later I emerged, recomposed (a little), and the therapy team had just come out of the dining room. Which was awkward for me. I decided to be assertive and objectively figure out the mis-com about expectations and performance later during a private discussion. It turned into psychology therapy 101. I failed miserably and miserable I am now. I hate being weak. What about people like Tegs who can just breeze through emotions (read: ignore them) like a man? What happened to that? Why am I so incompetent in 'taking it'? Does it just mean I'm not good at doing life???? I know I am the kind who breaks in really hard at first, works well later, as with many things in my life. It takes getting used to. So I'm glad it's over. It's just, I didn't think it would be like this.

Yah, my confessions once made might as well be completed. I stood in the cold darkness, waiting for Eng (that man is so nice I could hug him right now, except he would think I'm mad) to pick me up. And he was late because he was trying to find out how to drive to my hospital. So I crouched down directly under the lamplight, not knowing where he was and when he was coming and by the time the 8th car passed me by, I was a total wreck because everything that had gone on the in the past 24 hours raced like crazy through my head and my earworm played Daniel Powter's "bad day" over and over. I wanted to swear so badly. I still do. I wanted to kick anything and everything. I was so pissed with myself, and my expectations and my asian 'get it done now, do it right the first time'... It's been a huge lesson isn't it. Life is really too short to take yourself seriously. And it's probably been an issue with me for a while. I take my work too seriously.

Eventually I found Eng (he came in the other entrance) and on the way home we talked about stressing and being easygoing.
"Why you want to be stressed for? I don't get stressed. Except for exams."
"I don't want to, it kind of jumps on me without my looking."
Here's an idea: You can be not stressed if you try hard enough.

OH, SCRATCH THAT. ROAAAAR.

I'm fine now, and I'm gonna take it a day at a time, a week at a time..
I'm glad I splurged on notebooks.
Clifford cannot kill me for it because they are USEFUL.
not just AESTHETIC.
:p

2 Peter 1:3

His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.

Why should I rely on myself when that deprives Him of the glory He deserves?

I realise how loved I am, thank you for the mails, calls, etc.

Dear Lifebuddy,

I am sorry that you must read so much rubbish here, it's like spam to an email account, isn't it. I quake to hear of your dilemma, and I somehow, would much rather be me than you right now (oh hey presto, I am!). Whilst the man and the woman would think much of it (my man and woman would too!) I suppose that a clear conscience before God suffices very well in your predicament. Guilt has no hold in a God-clench. Facing the music wouldst be much like a blast of high frequency noise in your ears, leaving you deaf for a period temporary, yet having a little lasting damage in the end. One doesn't recommend such frequent exposure.

And yet our tummy booboos continue, should we exchange tips? (I drink a lot of tea for mine. Eng and I keep re-boiling the water). I'm quite a good hypochondriac myself when I wish it. But inasmuch as you said naught to me on the day I left (I understand why, I am comforted by it), I have little to offer you in words for words are so negatable, so insufficient (I agree with what you say about it). I suppose the offer of my comfort/presence is a little better? But i am not there to give it. So I give to you what I can. Call me expensively if you like. Email, write to me, blog. I read, my heart is with you. And you've got me, parallel universe lifebuddy, cheonger in studies, creative mind-thinker, hypochondriac conjurer, sparkleclevermorethanever chum. I will call again, when I can figure out a good time. Jolly smart of you to fix the house phone.

Meanwhile, sleep well, sleep sweetly and I prithee, put thine heart into thine studies and thinknot, worrynot.

A wee lassie in scotland thinks of you and prays for you always.

Love,
Lifebuddy.

p.s. I'm glad the party was good, you high-heeled totterer.

Why does everything I read about the daft (new favefab word) therapy sound like scottish accent in my head. Why do my thoughts sound like Scottish accent. Help me, I'm on overdrive and my brain is out to kill me. Hey Mr. Hypothalamus, I thought we had a deal here? And you say you didn't hear me.. I sent it to the wrong address??? Mr. Hippopotamus?!

And you're going to tell me I hear voices in my head. Daft therapy book.

---

Anomia.

Ah, that was the word I couldn't think of.

It means, "word finding difficulties."

How ironic that i had anomia thinking about anomia.

-_-"

---

Bollocks. I finished reading the article. And I think I will email Deb West/ Jill T. for a second opinion. If you ask me, it's bollocks.

Zantac is working.
I am grateful for Zantac.
I had plain rice with soy sauce.
It tastes gross but I don't want to eat anything else.
This makes my stomach feel better.
My gastrointestinal tract welcomes the bland-saltiness.
With open arms (do cilia count?).
12345.
Rachel's exams are finishing.
soon.
Jia you, phishie.
I'm writing my learning contract.
I will do the reading lah.
Then I will pick up the novel I borrowed.
With a nice cup of hot tea.
I think they really think I'm daft lei.
I will introduce Suze and Cori to them.
Suze and Cori will mow them down with clinical evidence.
In my mind this plays out well.
Go Suze! Go Cori!
But no, Australia cannot afford to offend an European nation.
They might cut off our supply of European medical journals.
River Island might get more expensive!!
Nono, it's way too risky.
I finished my learning contract instead.
Maybe they will give me chocolate instead of increasing RI prices.
I've screwed my hypothalamus up.
Excuse me, I'm sorry to overwork you..
But on top of fixing my sleeping and everything,
do you mind dealing with my gastrointestinal issues?
Give it top priority, along with sleep cycle issues.
Thankyouverymuch.
Your diplomatic efficacy will not be forgotten.
I will feed thee well.
Be good to me, and I'll be good to you, brain.
It takes two to clap.
What's that?
You have no hands?
Use your imagination lah!

CRifford.

YOU ARE IN TROUBLE! SLUT! YOU MAN-SLUT!
I WILL NOT LET ESTHER KF YOU.
I MUST KF YOU PERSONALLY!
$125 LEI!
MIO LEI!
IT'S A RING LEI!
UNCLE!
ONLY 10% OFF LEI!
WHAT FLAK!
I WILL GIVE YOU MORE THAN FLAK!
YOU ARE GOING TO ENDURE WHATEVER PUNISHMENT THE COUNSEL (esther + tash + I) COME UP WITH!
IF WE SAY NO EAT THEN NO EAT!
NO BREATHE THEN NO BREATHE!
And most of all..
NO RAOUL THEN NO RAOUL!!!!!!

I have not discussed with counsel due to time differences. Meanwhile.. I think this will suffice to benefit you (and maybe me ;p) very well.
For every dollar you spend, you have to give me 50 cents ok? So think about that. I will be very rich when I next see you.

nyahnyahnyah. To be a true himbo/beautiful stranger, one must learn to choose shopping wisely. :p

p.s. SOME MORE NO PICTURES, HUH! YOU DARE TO INVOKE THE WRATH OF HER MAJESTY THE GODDESS! IT'S SUCH A HUGE BLACK PEARL CAN!

hurhurhur. reply my email first lah. hahaa then I can scold u some more k? =)

miss u, sista.

Getting used to my hourly/minutely updates?
It's because I have no one to talk to besides Joel.
Joel is 5 hours behind me.

-JoelCane- HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!! says:
Apple as in the fruit or the computer???

I have calmed down from my fit of fatigue-induced insanity after a good warm bath. A good bath always helps. And Zantac. After my corn, I didn't bother to try to down any dinner because I have a good idea that it will come back up. Instead, I will try to have breakfast tomorrow as some sort of lousy compensation. I really don't feel ok tonight, but I am hoping that sleep is all I need. After I type this daft rubbish, I will try to do reading for tomorrow and make up my learning contract. Damn lei chey.

It was a gorgeously foggy day this morning and I flicked through my zen, trying to find music that would 'fit' as I walked down the stone path and frosty alleyways to reach the bus stop. Only John Mayor fits exactly. Everything else sounds rather out of place. So if you want a feel of Scotland from my ears, it would be John Mayor. I think everyone is different, though. To be honest, although I am struggling physically (my uncle suggested flying to Edinborough. I want to puke at that idea. Flying.) and ethically/stressically, I'm ok. There is no where else I would rather be. The hospital is home to me. The walking is home to me. This place is home to me- the apartment, my housemate, the view of the river.. I relate to it and identify with it in a curious way- as if I have known it all my life, and it known me.. we just hasn't met yet. And now that we have, we have just begun to shyly say hello. I am wary of it and it of me, but we seem to love each other anyway: I feel like this is a part of me that has always desired and is now fulfilled, because now I am in Scotland.

I've gotten a temporary library card from Ninewells as well. And by some marvelous chance the first novel sitting atop the pile was 'a suitable boy' by Vikram Seth. I was like.. another one of those Arundhati Roy type books. But it's actually really good! So I had to go and borrow it as my source of temporary comfort in my isolated, scottish-accented world. It's useful for when I have to wait for my housemate to finish work.

As for working, it's quite challenging to be tasked with deciphering patients that are already deciphered. I feel as if it is too easy for me but they are making it hard by withholding information.. It would only be fair for me to read the notes all at once, instead of asking me to do it in little bits. I'm not daft. But sometimes the things I say make them think I am, because I am succinctly end-point conclusive. While my Australian placement supervisors would understand this well, I have had to reiterate my entire thinking process only to find they are somehow stuck lower down in the ladder, refusing to move on a particular theoretical standpoint, and therefore my conclusion is daft because that sort of thinking is not acceptable. Don't know if they will rate me ok. I'm a little stressed about that. We really don't agree theoretically. And I don't know if Australia has brainwashed me, but I have been through 3 years of well explained evidence that leads to my australian way of thinking, whilst I have not seen theirs. As usual, the clinical supposition is that I will come to some sort of compromise, but shock-and-horror! Maybe they won't be backed up efficaciously? I need to find out more. Sigh. She's a lot more easygoing than I thought. No treatment planning, even.

Does anyone want anything in particular? Let me know, ok?
I'm sorry to be such a pain and whine when I should be letting you know all about beautiful scotland. But I am alleviated of guilt since pictures speak a thousand words and I have posted many pictures. Actually, if I handed in 3 pictures for an essay in uni, would that work?

I have uniform.
Uniform feels so good.

I am so dead-freaking-desperately-doorknob tired.
I am super hungry.
I am irate. Because.
Fatigue takes more than a physical toll.
I would give anything for non cynical cheeriness.
I am cynically cheerful.
I want to swear.
They were right.
All of them were right.
THEY ARE FRIGGIN MODULAR.
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO USE THE BDAE, PALPA, and Pyramids and Palm Trees?
I can't go in there and tell them it's not efficacious!
And yet they talk to me about efficacy!
I really want to swear.
WHAT IS THE BASIS FOR ERRORLESS LEARNING!
DON'T BRAINWASH ME!
AAAAAH.
I don't believe Kathyn Hird or Suze would take this well.
My canned corn tastes disgusting.
I love work,
I hate my mind.
I feel nauseous from fatigue and I want to stick my head in the toilet bowl.
The Scottish accent is un-hearable.
They spell like they sound.
I would give a lot to feel un-sick at this point.
Being sick is the last thing I need right now.
I have to prove my competencies or I will have wasted a whole block placement.
Panic ensues.

This is just all the rubbish from my fatigue.
The placement actually rocks my socks.
The uniform rocks my socks (although I LOOK like a sock in it).
And the people in that hospital rock my socks.
They are ALL so super nice.
They act like I'm one of them.

Freakout. I need to Email Gill and Re.
Their sympathy toward the ethics of modular theory will be needed. And please tell me I am not ethically wrong... =(

I'm peeved la.
Because I'm tired.
And it's 4 friggin 52 am.
Who in the world is gonna be awake.
Jumping Junipers.
Diggity.
Sugar.
kawasakionomatopoenia.

I need to hurry and finish my work.
So I can go to sleep. Because I'm already falling asleep.

Sorry. Today was actually a really good day.
It's just the straw on the poor (as they will say) wee camel's back.
I know the word I want now.

This is daft.
Just daft.

Mum likes what I wrote.
She asked me to write more.
=)
It's like a mini career.
I likes.
iz happy.

Today will be my first day at work. its 6.50 am.
The clock is red and glaring and I can read it without my glasses.
I am looking forward to today.
This is the beginning of Scotland.

Clifford. Stop Spending!

nyanyanya! I'm gonna pinch your ear when I see you.

I now have wireless.
Dinner was ok for me.
But I think it wasn't anything great.
I'm too tired to cook proper.
It's 7.35 pm and I am resisting the urge to sleep!
So instead, I take another zantac (gastric comes with all food I eat now) and look forward to the coming day which will bring hospital tidings. It will be rainy tomorrow, and so the figure waiting and sitting at the bus stop will be clad in gortex. I hate food now. It makes me sick, literally. Eat less, more zantac. But I can't. Zantac is 2 a day, maximum, and food is apparantly compulsory (not to me). Fine, eat I will.

Drearily, my hospital is next to a cemetary. How convenient! Just die and dump. DD, new hearse slogan. I find it freakishly eerie how uncaring infrastructure can be. The gastric is getting worse. I try to watch Frasier instead.

Smirnoff and whisky on tv. I wonder if alcohol will make me less bloated. It's always worked for cramps but I figure they are not the same thing. Anyways, water is best.

My stomach feels like it's filled with air (wish it was helium, then I could fly to work). It hurts, and I still can't fly.

Oh shut up, Sara. How bad can it be?

It feels like it is 2.22 am. But it's actually 5.22 pm.
I am comforted to think it is 2.22. The world doesn't feel so wrong.
5.22 pm with the sunset for 2 hours feels so wrong.
I try not to think about it.

The cooking has started.
It is very therapeutic.
I need more chicken.
The rice is boiling nicely.
Dinner will be simple,
But sufficient.
The principle of food is that it is intrinsically enough, doesn't matter what it is. It matters when it is, though. Scotland has taught me alot about When already.

My pulsing desire to shop is alleviated.
Suddenly, I cannot be bothered with frivolity.
Tomorrow, other things will interest me.
For example, Brain Injury Rehab.
The bus ride and walk will be therapeutic.

Scots accent on TV is so weird.
The world is crumbling under Rudd.
For that reason, I don't want to return to WA.
I'm a little comforted, but not really.

Pure Decadence-
I live in a riverside apartment,
eating blueberries
with cable TV
2 mobile phones and 2 land lines.
The bathroom is warm
The couch is soft and inviting.
I thank God for abundance.
But i also think:
No wonder rich people are so discontented.
They are alone.

Mexximum Acceleration

Mexx has come to Scotland. His hairball antics tyranically reach out like pollen, and Scotland welcomes with little enthusiasm his spore. But he will win them over, Mexx wins everyone over. Unless you have allergies.

Tussle

We tussle today.
I, with my green, nauseous stomach and empty/full heart.
He, with his sovereignity and grace in two different bottles.
We tussle, my lion and I.
I end up on the couch, on my knees, beat, face down, tears streaming.
He was gentle, but firm, so fierce, but so comforting.
How does one chastise and cuddle at the same time?
Only He can perform the emotional gymnastics of that.
It is so beyond a human.
But I am back to where I started.
No, not really.
I spent the afternoon doing what I should: writing mum's stuff.
Soon it will be time to cook.
Am I dismal? (I am a damsel, does that count?)
I don't know.
Maybe if I cock my head at just the right angle,
I will be able to see the pattern, the irony of this all.
And laugh at things I don't understand.

I wrote about obedience, reverence and boldness in asking for the thing my mum wanted. Hmm. I struggle with the first two and I don't dare the third. What a silly goose. Live out before you write, is that the cost?

Those men who lust for land
And for riches strange and new
Who love those trinkets of desire
Oh they never will have you

And they'll never know the gold
Or the copper in your hair
How could they weigh the worth
Of you so rare?

You don't have glass bones like me, you can knock against life
If you let this opportunity slip away,
then, as time goes by .
it's your heart that will become .
as dry and fragile
as my bones.

Operation Zantac: Swiss Army initiation 2.

I picked at the cellophane- the only thing between me and my antipsychotic medication (indigestion tablets- the gastric and neck pain is driving me mad!), which I intended to take with a cup of morphine. Barring that, alcohol would do (my housemate is well stocked with liquor). But it wouldn't open. So the swiss army knife came to the rescue. A nice sharp slit and it was free for all drug use. And now I am zantac-ed. With water lah. No alcohol in foreign countries. My next mission is paracetamol. Neck pain, go away, come never again, not another day.

I don't know what indigestion is and what sadness is anymore. Screw you, Zantac.

I've gone mad.
I'm in denial.
"no la, this is easy, can do."
But it's not.
The dam broke.
It's too painful to break all at once.
So the tears are coming in drips and drabs.
But it hurts so much.
I wish it would hurt all at once and be done.
But my body isn't working like that.
Scrambling, scuffling.
My heart is so so full.
I wish it would spill over so it wouldn't hurt so much.

It's becoming raw slowly.
This is why I wanted to be alone: so that it would hit me.
It's getting hard.
The jazz is helping.
I will turn it up and bathe.
Then I will work.
And I will get the kinks out of my neck.
My neck hurts.
And my mind is swirling. Nonstop.
I think I'm getting a teeny weeny bit depressed.

Speedmouse was good.
But I need to come to terms with reality.

Sneaking Suspicions.

I met my housemate for the first time. He is a soft spoken man of small build and he is really very nice. But what struck me most about him were his eyes. He has beautiful eyes. And his manner. I have sneaking suspicions that I cannot confirm. He ALSO drives a Merc. I don't understand these doctors. I really do have sneaking suspicions about them all. :X.

I'm finally alone, a little of my own space after a harrowing 3 days of no space at all. I'm really very relieved to be alone. There are things I need to do. And I SUPER don't feel like doing them. All I want to do is sit here and NUA my life away.

It's pervasive.
It's ironic.
Laugh now, it's your cue.
I've forgotten what I wanted to say.
It's everywhere.
I don't think I'm jaded about it,
I'm just feeling mousy and sad.

I should make a list and get on with what I need to do. I expect that will make me feel better. But I actually want to curl up in bed and feel the inside of my stomach rot away so that when my housemate comes home all he will find is a gaping hole where my liver used to be. Ouch, that was morbid! Sorry. Instead, I will have lunch and watch speedmouse. That's a compromise of sorts. And maybe I will have the willpower to force myself to do some work. The truth is, it's not about jet lag and tiredness. It's about not having ANY motivation. I seriously cannot bring myself to do SIP right now.

Stick a fork into my split screen sadness.

MedicalRecord

The injuries to date:
Gastric as a result of jet lag and curry.
Walked into the bedpost. Orhchey on my right thigh.

Can you believe that other than that
I am very much in one piece?!
Hurray!

Oh, and cramps.
WHY THIS WEEK!?!?!?!.
Sigh. nvm ba. suay suay.
I'm off to hospital to look see soon.
I want to shop.
I don't feel like doing SIP or mum's writing work.
sigh.
I thought about 'if''.
Sigh.

I wake up at 5 am each morning and I do the same thing.
reread. sigh.
What if I never get used to this split screen sadness?

Joel Msned me. He was away for thanksgiving and just got back into Miami. He says that at least now, I am closer to him than before. Yes, Jo, that's what you get for flying 22 hours! Aaaah.

Ok, I need to change. I look so frumpy compared to the rest of the branded UK world. But all the better. Even in this outfit, I already got whistled at once. GRRRR. The less attention, the better. My lion will growl for me, yes, lion?

I shall go and talk to my Lion now.

I'm grilling mushrooms in the oven.
My uncle likes onions.
He adds more into the pan.
WTH!?!?!??!

-_-. (mole on my face, can see?)

Is this some conspiracy to make me think, or is my thinking making me see these things.

Portabellos.
First instinct in Supermarket as trained in past weeks:
Mushrooms, chicken, potato, tomatoes.

I find myself in the same state, predicting the same foods.
Cooking in the same way.
Funny how it manifests:
in shopping, in thoughts, in manners, in heartstrings.

My uncle was a quiet child.
Unassuming, unintrusive.
Monosyllabic.
His world was in his head.
He spends money on me like water from a tap.
He worries a lot about my safety.
That reminds me of someone I know.

Church was so interesting.

I walked into the huge cathedral, greeted by the sombre, accented usher and was handed a hymnbook. The little red ones. And I sat upstairs with my uncle and fell into a reverie of awesome wonder because the inside of the church was beautiful. Then I saw the stained glass saints and realised... What if I am in a catholic church?!! No offence, I just wasn't prepared. Turns out I wasn't in one, but the church was so old and so dead, the service so painfully sombre that I was prepared to cut and run. But the Lord stayed me, and I was humbled as He told me to remember that faith manifests in different forms, and this would be as pleasing to the Lord as any other serivce if the seeker so sought. There was not a single person in that church who was younger than 40. I kid you not. And since there were only about 30 people, I checked. It was an interesting experience. The second picture is an old church being torn down. My uncle told me that a lot of churches are closing down because people have stopped going to church. I felt so sombre and pained at the thought. This side of the world has turned to blatant decadence. The newspapers are splashed with the grime of tabloid tongues and meaty steamy snippets of utter trash.

My uncle's hot chocolate. Mine was the same, without marshmallows.

A pram for twins, one boy, one girl.

The Lord is beginning to answer my question about being beautiful. And it begins in romance. Walking home from City Quay, I was telling Him how beautiful His creation was when He began to sing to me, "You are so beautiful to me." I was... in love, in awe! I am, I am in love with my protector. Lion roar! :)

Something weird is happening inside of me. I told the Lord how I was feeling this morning, very anxious about being here alone. But it wasn't hard to cope. I felt as if it was easy, but I was experiencing all the emotions that make it hard. It's very detaching? And I know it's God's way of helping me survive.

I went to see the hospital today. And I can bus there pretty easily, because walking 40 minutes in the cuttingly cold -4 deg wind is really unthinkable. By bussing it I still get to walk, and going home will be a little dodgy, but I can bus to ninewells and catch a ride from the housemate. Now here is the strange thing: I feel more at home here than I do in Perth. The shops, the houses. This is how I always wanted life to be. Ok, so I don't appreciate such short days and such cold people, but I feel as if something in me that has been searching and yearning all this while- my consistent wanderlust, has been satisfied! I don't know why, it all seems to suit me. It is as if my personality was made to live in this place. Maybe I will change my tune in the next few weeks, but for now I feel awfully comfortable and uncomfortable all at once. But Really comfortable. And not very uncomfortable at all.

An alleyway in the city.

Want to visit mecca like a good little pilgrim?
It's actually a casino.
*smirks*
So the Scots have a sense of humour as well.

The initiation of the swiss army knife.
I cut the river island tag off my new scarf.
Throw confetti, people!

Psalm 5: 11-12
11 But let all who take refuge in you be glad;
let them ever sing for joy.
Spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may rejoice in you.
12 For surely, O LORD, you bless the righteous;
you surround them with your favor as with a shield.

I finally figured it out.
I had been waking up at 5 am and 7 am the last few days before I left because it was God's way of preparing me to come to scotland. I'm awake now. My hypothalamus will work out sleep/eat. All the scares of the night were driven away by one vision.

The picture of people running into a glass dome around me. He promised me. He's got me covered. And I woke up various times in the night. Scared of the doorlocks. Scared of the strangeness, scared of the rowdy strangers and cold people. Scared. And again and again, the same picture. No one touches me. He came for me more than once, when I told Him I couldn't sleep anymore. His presence is calming... reassuring.

Sleep would have been a huge terrifying nightmare without Him. Sleep was a lot sweeter with Him. God of Israel who never slumbers nor sleeps. Ps. 121.

I called may. Have fun at Tim's party.

Sigh. I don't know how to start life here. I will have to try today. I will try to start turning the clogging wheels of life in a strange cold new place (the people are cold too, and not just literally). The internet is my savegrace. Thank God for technology. Thank God for people who always go online -_-.

I'm going to try church today. I'll change now. And get ready for another choc-a-bloc full day. The people here are strangely pretty but not pretty.

Pitchers.
No eye has seen, no ear has heard, the good that the Lord has prepared..

The immigration at the airport where it says no photography allowed. Heh.

Scotland border welcomes me. It was mostly grass and sheep and small random pretty houses.

City Quay is where all tourists going to scots take pictures. But it's no big deal. Overgate is the big deal!

Some kind of mill, which my uncle insists is a cloudmaker. I am not 5 years old!!!

The farm shop. This was on the stopover on the way to scotland, and it's sort of a little deli where you can get what you need. It's expensive, though.

I always thought a flapjack was a pancake! But here is what it really is.

They seem to have these pretty things in random parks.

This is the view from the kitchen. If you're worried about my feeding habits for the next 35 days, I am too. But I've stocked up some so far. And I plan to pull a Kate Walms and freeze ham sandwiches everyday. My room has no lock. I had various scares about this and I am still a little.. uncomfortable, to say the least.

Red phone booths? Red letter boxes too! So nice.. so English. even though it's Scotland.

Penguins... Hello, what's your name?

This is their version of red bull/ mother. When I get over jet lag, I shall try one. This would be a good theme for a church camp!

Yuan de bu neng nah.

sleep yesterday was hard. Jet lag woke me up 3 times and apparantly there was techno playing upstairs. It's ok. What's worse are the thoughts. Will I, how will i, when will I, what if i. But God was there, so I was ok.

Ecclesiastes 3:4-7
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

A time for everything.

Write to me when you can, k, guys?
I need to reply the mails I got already. :p
I'll get on it soon.

Sprinkls. Love sprinkl lover.

I fell out of the plane, another sardine out of the cramped tin can.
13 hours. I wanted to whinge so much.
Instead, there is isolation.
No one to talk to.
No one who knows me.
So I stay silent.
And as the jet lag and vertigo swirls me endlessly,
cruelly,
I clench inside.
I'm not going to crumble, not even a little.
And I haven't.

Immigration looked so intimidating.
He yelled at the person in front of me.
"Where are you studyin Gat?"
Prayer.
Kept praying.
Like a manic fervent obsession.
Anxious prayer.
The same immigration officer was SUPER nice to me.
God is good.
I saw my luggage almost instantly when I reached carousel 4.
God is good.

The 5 hour drive to Scotland was beautiful.
And vertigo-ish with me swirling some more.
I scared my mother on the phone.
"Mum, I'm in Perth."
"What are you talking about!?!?!?"
"There's a perth in scots too you know."
-_- Cheap thrill.

I am SO time confused.
I don't know when I ate, don't know when to eat.
I don't know when to sleep!
I don't know WHEN I am!
WHEN am I??????????
*swirls like Sara Lee cake*

Emotionally, the numbness has set in.
So so so so numb.
I think, but the thread connecting my thoughts to my heart and stomach is broken. It's a state of shock I'm in, and I don't know when it will change or whether it will be worse when I go back to feeling it. I think I will feel it, and it will be worse when I do.

But i don't mind feeling it. I want to know I'm real.
I want to know what God wants.
I want to know.
But I cannot demand.
And anyway, His plan makes sense.
Cos I don't have a good plan.

The pendulum has swung and now I am on the other end. The see-saw has flipped sides and I am experiencing a sense of knowing but not knowing. A not processing feeling.

In short, In shock.

Everything is invading me. I'm weary from guarding against the world. I'm weary from not knowing where I am, when i am. I'm weary from not knowing. From being alone.

It is painfully alone here.
A-Lone.
alone.

I confess:
I scrambled for the internet as often as I could for as long as I could.
The previous posts should be an indication.
It hurts.

Somewhere inside, there is a blank spot.
A quiet spot.

Thank you for the well wishes.
I just got your email, Swong.

I hate being isolated in the sky!
I want to talk to pple.
I AM SO GLAD ZAK IS ONLINE!

Oh my goodness.

If not I would just faint la.

And Cliff's hp no. did NOT come in. So i couldn't call him before I left for the dep gate. So sad.

Two poms approached me
They thought I was ground staff.
They asked me something in pom language
(english with strong accent.)
I blur.

I blinked.

hahahaha.

I'm ground staff.

Transit, T2.

I've got sushi, biscuits and evian.
I stared out the window, feeling like I was that far from the thick humidity.
That far from a place i used to be always.

The gate opens at 10.45. So I have 15 minutes, once again, rushed.
I found Genki, Rach. Prices have shot.
I feel so unsettled.
Super don't like flights la.
I like taking time,
I hate checking that I've got everything with me exactly where it should be.
I do, though.

I thought I could connect to the wireless but it looks like that isn't going to work.
The config is different or something.
So the internet (free) is super uber slow.

I've written about 6 pages choc full in the journal from chillipadi.
Wonderwoman notebook will be saved for cooler stuff.
Wonder if I can finish the whole notebook by the end of the trip?
I think it will be worthwhile.

My heart is still swirling.
I know full well I will be ok.
I've learnt so much about how I work.
I'm going to have the time of my life.
I know it.
Because He is calling.
So loudly.
So cutely.

"I forgot to bring my soft toy. so bad right? Childishly security blanket. You can be mine!"
"Haha, ok."
"What kind? Teddy bear??"
"I made bears to be so fierce and roar. I don't know how they got down to being cute and cuddly."
"True. ok la. Lion."

So Lion it is.
I have no more physical security blanket.
But I have one big lion.

See me through, please.
I'm scared.
But I know I can do this.

But what I need is rest.
And sleep.
And water.

See me through, please.

My form in the reflection astounds me.
It looks good.
And I dare to say so now.
Because I realise.
I'm His.
His piece de resistance.

He sat back, and He was pleased.
"never knew a rib could look so good, huh?"

Piece de resistance.

I cried so much.

Poor Hollish guy next to me on the plane was so nice.
I don't think he noticed me cry,
but he was such a gentle gentleman.
I hope scotts pple are easy to understand.
But that Hollish person's friend wasn't nice.
He came over to talk to him and he stood so near me.
He was gross.

I shifted left.

I think I'm a bit grumpy from physical endurance of plane-ness.
I would rather be pushed to exercise,
Than have to get stuck unmoving for 22 hours.
Torturous!

I want my feet on firm ground.

Walk with me
Talk with me.

Tell me more tell me more.
Like did he have a car?

Much emotion is spilt like shining beads on the floor of today's chronology.
Pray for me.

(:

I'm doing well.

I have 6 minutes to blog.
Transit in SG, standing in the lounge, listening to the asian accent.

Much has happened. Great change has been wrought in this 5 hr flight.
More later.

I only found out Shan's sis was on the flight when i landed. Sigh!
There is a new kind of Absolut. It's called absolut disco.

Called the babe.
She recommended sushi to sustain the plane food.
She also said she's done 28 hrs so i trust i will be ok with 22.
I don't particularly look forward to the claustrauphobic feeling.
And I want to sleep proper.
So irritating.

Big big discovery.
Big revelation.
God has been so near so loud so close so loving.
And I have discovered the lie that I've believed in all these years.
It's all downhill for my assaulters from here.
I found out that I am beautiful.
I found out it's not my fault.
And I found out I'm powerful.

I found out all about being a woman in 113 pages (1/2 the book).
And suddenly I am grateful.
I understand so many 'why's suddenly.
And I cannot be more thankful to my savior.
He has spoken so closely and so nearly recently.

I have so much to tell.

Looks like the adventure has started.

Take care,
Under all these stars.
The sky remains the same.

love,
sare

Blurring the lines of the Ordinary.

It's time to say goodbyes.
It's hard to say goodbyes.
Saline sea.
A flowing, living (not dead) saline sea.
I'm tired and it's painful to write tonight.

Taboo!
BB
Girls who haven't yet is sleeping with boys.
cookies.
Anteater.
Elephant.
Fun with 3 friends.

It was an awesome day.
Esther is graduating.

I am flying.
Destinies are calling.
I am yielding to God's desires.
The funny thing is, I don't know what they are.

(:

Let us part three ways.
Not with sadness but with Hope.
With tears, yes, because we are human.
But coming from a woman.
Tears can be good strength.
I WILL PART with a final smile.
BECAUSE!
I want you to know that I believe in you.
And that everything you do will be so fantastic.
And new and exciting.
Both of you.

Be of good courage, us three!
The lotus eaters will find adventurers.
And Tennyson would be pleased.

Dear God,
Be so REAL to us.

Loved.

I am loved.

Settle.

I will not settle.

Potato.

I say potato.

The skating rink is NOT open.

Sara is SADDED.

Sara WANTS TO SKATE.

Sara will stop being so childish and will inspect the popcorn.

There is a faint burning smell.. I wonder I wonder..

OhO!

Hello Santa.

Summertime is coming soon.
Unanswered questions are that much closer to being answered.
Not much closer,
But a second closer, a minute, an hour, a day closer.
It's not much.
But it's better than stagnating and never knowing.
Time passes.
Time can be painfully slow. trepedatingly slow.
Or it can pass in the twinkle of an eye.

I am satiated with popiah. Yesterday popiah.
Today also popiah (there is so much!).
I don't want to turn into a popiah.

Mummy sends love to Spencer.
She hopes ah girl is well.

Supervisor has written to me.
I need to pack MORE.
I feel.. slightly quivery now.
What if it's scary?
I know what the place looks like, and it's nice.
But now I worry a little about the prac.
I will do my bestest.
But it's BRAIN INJURY REHAB!
What if she don't like my style or my aussie accent?
Nono, everyone loves my style and my asian accent.

Sleep. Tmr got exam wor.
Sigh. Goodnight, world.
Sleep tight world.

The Threshold Draws Near.

It is as if I'm being picked up and I'm slowly acquiring a helium-like quality.
Scotland life draws near, and I am becoming excited.
Weightless.
I thought my wanderlust was insatiable,
but I think this is a big enough adventure for me.
Mum is irate today about food.
Maybe is a freudian way of worrying about me.
I say so because i think it is half true
and the other half I attribute to PMS?

I got a msg at 7:21:16 that made me laugh.
Super cute la.
Thankyou. :) Really sweet.

I am thinking about how Cole's chocolate was on offer
I should have bought more!
SO MUCH MORE!

I would post a picture.
But my explorer isnt working for pix.
GAH.

Hurhurhur.

I just realised the name of my blog is super duper lame. hurhurhur.

Is piggypoo flying on the 22nd?
I'm listening to Carrie Underwood and I miss u.
How come you go fishing without me?
How come you eat stingray! Hehe.
No la. But I really hope u have a good holiday k.
Give Rach a hug pig hug for me (no, it's p not b)

Brokenness.
It started with a jar
But that single jar permeated everything.
Present, future, and yes, past.
A broken branch, with broken fruit.
A broken man, with a broken brother
A broken tower with broken language
A broken world, a broken olive branch
A broken woman, A devastated city
Broken bread, poured out wine.
A side pierced.
No bone in him was broken.
The veil tore.
Judas' spine broke.
Peter's pride broke.
A broken tomb.

It all starts with this: what breaks?

Allied Health

What allied health professionals. We just have to band together to make sure we get paid a sufficient amount to survive the harshness of the health science field.

So, together with Lawyer to be, this is the new plan.
Sara is to find a rich old millionaire with a speech problem.
Fix him.
marry him.
Run to solomon islands.
Bring Rachel + loving hubby.
Spend money on beaches and rum.
Millionaire dies.
Remarry.
Spend more money.

Escape the evil allied health system!
Escape the evils of Law!
Beach party!

*runs around like crazy money hungry chic*

It's already November?! (so slow right. today is already the 16th) Oh. My. Goodness.

Several things to do:
1. Pack my study. Separate into useful school stuff, throw away stuff, paper for recycling, and put that thing back where it came from, or so help me. I suppose I can do this in January when I return. However, there is a giant paper mess on the doubledesk. If you want to talk about paper trail, this is where it leads- to HQ. Mum, if you somehow found this blog by accident and am reading daily to satiate yourself with your daughter's insane inner life, sorry about the 5 week mess to come.
2. Study for Stuttering. I feel like there is nothing to do and so little to study that I don't actually study. Now that it IS friday, i need to study! Hahah. By monday the last deed will be done and my academic fate delivered into the hands of the examination board.
3. Pack for Scotland. I started up a suitcase... but I'm likely to take out most of what I pack anyway, because I'll be using/wearing it! So I shall make a thorough, thoughtful list and use the last few days to squish it in.

Swong, don't kill me for still being at home.. I'm stranded! I'm on my way ASAP k?

Do you know that now Santa isn't allowed to say HOHOHO?
Because in American slang it sounds like prostitute 3 times in a row.
Not like children know, you know?
Sigh, poor kiddies.
All they get now is a drunk Santa who goes HAHAHA.

I need to start packing.
All the best for CLT babe, no iz panik.
Swong hasn't msged yet.
Study? Pack? Study? Pack?
Wonderwoman with superb multitasking skills will do both.
She is, after all,
wondering all the time anyway.

Scratch that.

I'm taking a hike.

I feel like the most foolish person on earth.
I feel like I've given up my dignity.
And I need to get it back.
I feel like my stupidity has really overtaken me.
And I need to stop it from going further.

Like dandelions...
It's true, we're all scattered.
It makes me sad too, Rach.
How are we going to have reunions like this?
We will, somehow.
Loony promised to celebrate what is coming to 11 years of friendship.
But I'm not going back this year.
And next year, he might be away.
How to celebrate 12 and 13 years of friendship like this?
Oh, let us not forget Mel and Jona.
And Joanne.
Where will we be?
Where?

I awoke feeling warm,
The remnant of my dreams swirled irresponsibly
And dissipated into the thinness of air.
Mum was out.
I do like the feeling I get in the morning.
I love waking up alone.
The aloneness is so contrasted with the rest of my day
Where human contact is consistent, deliberate, unavoidable.
I will drive 1/2 an hour to have my clinical skills analysed.
I would rather languish on my bed and complain to Rachel that it's hot.
I would rather talk to Rachel anytime.
I miss her.
I miss swong.
I miss Melanie.
I miss Ger.
I think I need more BBBBT club to cheer me up.

The BBBBT club has been formed.

It consists of Betrand, Bethany and Beverly.
The club initiates with a pillow fight.
Then with a ritualistic small BB-
Green Tea, Peanut Butter and Choc, and Rocky Road.
Then with Bubble Tea.
I had so much fun.
I really love the times we spend together.
The BBBBT club will be split soon.
But we can continue traditions and initiate new members.
Thanks guys, for being who you are to me.
You both are B-B-Bery special.

Bertrand: You guys! *gasps, looking at tub of ice cream*. YOU DIDN'T EAT THE WHITE HALF?
Bev + Beth: Hehhe. It's nice mah. Keep for you.
Bertrand: You're.. you're worse than turtles!! You! Stay in Scotland! You! Go back Singapore! Don't come back!

I want more times like this. I wish Beth wasn't going back so soon.

small and childish.
I wish I had something nice to say to all you good people.
I want green tea.
I miss swong.

"stronger" by Kayne West makes me sick too.
Gag-sick.
I have a new pet hate.

I take it back.

Baby if you strip you can get a tip, cos i like you just the way you are.
It's overly true, and it's too close for comfort.
I hate it.

Salient Parsimony.
It is my pride speaking.
But, I don't think I am wrong in what I see.
Prove me wrong if you like.

Modish Miss is online.
She has been good solace.
We are ooohing at Anne Hathaway.
And other gorgeous hairstyles.
I miss Modish Miss a lot.
She is very very modish.

No, only one person is allowed to break my heart.
My maker may have His way as He wishes.
I want no more, no less.
He promised, I believed.
He is ever faithful.

She keeps her receipts in a notebook, crumpled.
She likes her french toast sweet and soggy.
She pens her thoughts in secret, in thoughtful pen-chewing silence.
She turns on the radio with a nifty wrist-flick.
She dances, abandoned.
She smiles.

"Just the way you are."

Don't go changing, just to please me, right? What happened to good old Billy Joel? Gone are the times when love songs were sincere, honest, earnest. Esther and I still have plans to use that song at our weddings (no we are not getting married twice. Esther one, Sara one, ok?). I suppose it is one way of holding on to the things we want, instead of letting the world tell us what we want.

What does the world think I want? "If you strip you can get a tip, cos i like you just the way you are." I laughed so hard when Rachel sent this to me *wiggles eyes*. Sending rubbish both ways around is just a fun way of laughing at the world. But when I sat down to think about it, I lost all respect for Timbaland. Does he think it's funny that "just the way you are" refers to, in his mind, nudity? Yes, I see the vague pun and the mockery. All in all, however, it merely reflects the sad degredation of society. Good clean fun is square. The more crude, the better.

But being the optimists we are, we'll make the best of a bad situation and just keep right on sending each other rubbishy lyrics for kicks. babypookins!

A tree is something that will stand by the side of the road for fifty years and then suddenly jump in front of a driver.

That one is from Lydia.

If it's not on, it's not on.

That one is from Murdoch Library.

Last week of Children's Church. Sigh, they are disruptive kiddies. I'm scared of them. Scotland is coming up real soon. The whirlwind end to the year is coming real soon. 2008 is coming too soon. It's baraging it's way like a 15 tonne truck down the highway of my life and I have just gotten out of my car to check the rear tire... ... ...

Attack of the Aunties.

I DID not achieve dreamless sleep. Instead, I woke, perturbed, to the sounds of aunties invading my house. I managed to avoid uncertain conversation until noon, when I had to get out of bed to study anyway. I was invaded about 5 times in 1/2 an hour, and their agenda did not change much each time. Most of them were asking me to come out to eat when the food was not ready (It's a ploy, I tell you). Auntification scares me. Cheek pinching scares me. And most of all, "Ger ah, wad coss u doing ah? Fers yer ah? Oh so big ah, going to finis ereddy ah?"

I ran away to the library (my mum flashed me a pitiful look) and went for BBT with zak and Denise at 4. Zak is planning the runaway properly now, but I managed to get it out of him that in the end, he planned to sell my body parts to the aunties to make kuay chap to get money for food (I don't smoke, my liver will fetch a healthy price).

"I thought we were friends!"
"We are! But until we run out of cash."

"Aunties are evil, just like green tea. You know? Green Tea. Aunt tea."

"Let your guard down and BAM! They'll have you in their little box."
"Is that why your shirt says 'guards' on it?"
"NO! Anyway, BAM! And they'll have you in their box."
"What box?"
"You know, that box they put you in."
"What are they going to do with me?"
"Experiment."
"They're going to teach me how to cook mee siam?"
"Worse. They're going to teach you to make porridge."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"How can you do this to me? You can't turn me in! They are ruthless you know, when I am dead they will come after you and make you cook celery!"
"NOOO! I'll double cross them first!"
"Why are you doing this?"
"They offered me a lifetime supply of bubble tea."
"When I die they'll cut you off you know."
"That's why I said I would double cross them first."
'Whats the POINT? I'll be dead already!"
"You're """"bait"""""".
"Stop doing that, you make me think everything you say is a lie."
""""I""" """"don't lie""""".
"You're doing it again."
"I'll """""double cross"""""" them. You can just be """""bait""""."

Inspite of this (mostly my fault, i think), I managed to finish 1/2 of what I have to do. We ended up falling asleep on the table by 6.45. I looked out the window. And for the second time in 2 days, I felt normal. It's a big deal for me. Today was wonderful. Just turn up the volume, make notes, and jibber jabber. I felt so alone but not alone. And I'm so thankful.

Battle I with this.

Turn up the music that I need not hear what I fear to hear.
Isaac is now the one planning the runaway (3 months in the making, food, lodging and location as yet unconfirmed). It used to be me wanting to run, but then it is not my exams he has to face. But I am his runaway buddy for a good reason- I usually do want to run anyway. At any point, I never am having enough fun to reject an escape proposition. So away it shall be. To join a circus, tour on the back of a sheep truck, or walk to Adelaide.

No, the prospect of escape is only a stress relieving mechanism for us. Just the idea of running away is calming enough to push me to survive the remnant of that which I cannot handle.

Tonight was good. It has been a long time since I've felt the comfort of support. It's been a long time since the old group has been around (Yes Ger, you're sorely missed). Even though it was food, singing, preparation and washing up, it was fantastic. It felt so normal that I was euphoric. I have not been this normal in a long time. And the sadness of Chillipadi leaving is bittersweet. Soar high into the sky. I want her to explode with growth, with bigness, with joy, with strength, with life.

Water splashes on my face and I dilligently rub the aromatic scrub into my pores with the false hope that if I do this properly enough, my face will take on the spitting image of Jessica Alba. I inhale and the comforting smell of the green tea takes me back to Singapore days when life was normal (somewhat like tonight). I am thankful, but ashamed that I have resorted to unscrupulous means to evoke a memory just for comfort. I let my hands run over my face as water trickles everywhere, messy. Somerset Station Control. Love. Smoke. Shy. High. Emotive. Unfazed. Walking. Walking. Walking. I mop up the mess just as my mother comes in to use the sink. We shuffle around the tiny bathroom and I bury my face in my towel. Bedok, walking, skating, phone calls, 12 noon, bed. The feel of the towel against my skin makes me want to curl up in bed, safe.

I want to change. I want to feel normal again. I want to stop my art because it annoys and provokes me to shudder and cringe. But I cannot seem to stop. It just seems to explode more and more, and I don't know what I should do, because I do not like my art at all. Help, Help me. I am watching a horror movie of myself, I am doing things I don't want to do. Draw, paint, write, act, be, sing, love, dance. Help me. Youtube and facebook have become my gallows and my doom. Get me away from my art. I want instead to be correct. Like Math. I want to love correctly. Live correctly. Emote correctly. Spell correctly. Because being who I am is tiring me out.

I want to feel safe. But nothing, no one, nowhere is safe anymore.
I will try, as a last resort, my bed.
If this fails. I will try under my bed.
Dreamless sleep, I want deep, refreshing, dreamless sleep.

Lifebuddy's mayday is not a minute too late.

Attic in the basement with a knife serrated, I'll protect you.
Finding a replacement with a heart sedated, I'll forget you.

-Architecture in Helsinki, Owls Go

THE NEW AND IMPROVED.

I've been epitomised!
I love Rachel!
AHAHAHA.

"Go shake a tower!"
"I'm shout of the hour!"

Perfect endings to imperfect days

Reports: Scabbily done, missing information, but finished.
Portfolio: Integrity compromised, but finished.
Research Assignment: Properly done, can't be bothered reading it again, but finished.

Ah, me.
The sun sets at it's leisure while I flick on the feature lamp and cosy in big cushions with a glass of shiraz and Bossa Nova. I lack nothing, want not. Rachel is nosed into CLT, prop and company but we talk intermittently on MSN.

I love being alone, so so alone. And not feeling alone at all.
Tall and tanned and young and lovely..
The girl from Ipanema goes walking..
Memories rush- Antonio Carlos Jobim has held a special niche that grows ever deeper. Childhood snippets flash. And the flickering reel of vague memories click and clack until it comes to... now.

The bright fire of daylight is gone. All I can hear are the crickets. And this enclosure isn't suffocating at all. I love it. I smell nothing but the bittersweetsour of the red.

who cares about yesterday? Or tomorrow?
For now, I am content.
Completely content.
Just this special moment.

no, i'm not done.

Sometimes you meet someone who can really take your shit.
And you just step on them.
Talk about appreciative.

Yes. This ridiculous posting spree will end. Soon.

I'm still high. Getting higher. On Rachel.
Some things never change. And I'm glad.
Sprinkls will change.
But Hamsterlady is still Hammy.
Some things are volatile.
Like volcanos.
Geographers recommend staying away.
I'm a geographer.
I'm also a volcano.

More superfluous updates on the hour to hour crisis

Tonight there is special coverage for no special reason (sharing the joy?!?!).
Su Re and Tanith are actively on facebook. And we have all indicated. That we got.
IT.
Div was SO cute. She said "I'm honoured (no pun intended)" Hehheehehe. You go girl. Rest up, and take care aight?!
Arthur and I are gossing and catching up.
Nana and LC have ORDed and are sianded like robots. WHAT HAS NS DONE TO YOU?!
May and Esther are funny.
Esther got eaten by a monster.
And she is easily bribed with BBT.

And I am high on life. Because God has given me a doorway He promised.

Oooo. another stupendous update on the hour to hour crisis report of my life.

My poor printer. Is printing reports like crazy.
Because. of. a mistake.
I think my mentors are going mad.
Oops. Sorry.
I am well going mad myself.
But that is ok.
Who said IMH is not a pretty place to be?
There is a desperately fine line between sane and insane.
At least they are playing london bound.
Radio makes you feel a little less nerdy.
A little less academically chained.
Well, when in chains. Sing loud.
ARGH. IS there ANYTHING else I've missed out?!
If I have to print those things out one more time,
Environmentalists will come after me with Parangs!
Poor J. He got missed out. Should I wait for email?
It's like sitting on the fence.
To print, or not to print?
Ok, I will print!
Then if it comes in, I will print again.
Peace of mind is more important than the environment!
*runs when sees environmentalists*
I have decided!
Printing is good. Print it shall be.
PRINT AWAY!

Expect the expected

I had imagined this moment. I would open the mailbox and pull out an unremarkable letter from Curtin and read it unremarkably. Toss it. And, prosaically write a reply to Neville.

But No. No one taught me to expect the expected.

I ran around the house with a wordless 'aaaaaahh' for about 3 minutes. I've been offered Honors, with prospects of PhD. If i decline, I have the option of graduating with distinctions.

Thank You God. You really did deliver. Just like You said you would. Faithful.

Dysfunctional neuroticism!

PROZAC-GIRL

Prozac girl, you make me whirl.
Your rollercoaster runs on neurotransmitters.

When I first met you, I thought we were in love.
I didn't know you had seen me in the pharmacy.
I didn't know you spied on me
As I prescribed fluoxetine to some simpering neurotic.

Now you've got me all tied up in knots.
And stuck here upside down on this chair
I stare at the empty section on the medicine cabinet.
Where the green, clear pills used to be.

Things NOT to do.

Do not take another driver's word for it when their car has a dent in the back.
Do not say "prove it".
Do not headbang in the car.
Do not assume that curdled milk is youghurt.
Do not exaggerate your ethical dilemmas (you have no choice).

magic mushrooms!
Jack. Jack, I'm flying!!
Yes you are, Darling, yes you are.
Splash.
Call me Jack,
Jack the ripper.

THIS IS BAD. I'm neurotic after talking to Su Re. It's not her fault. I promise.

Identifying a Speech pathologist is easy.
1. Stops at all second hand bookshops
2. Takes unexplained interest in toys.
3. Looks at your lips and not your eyes when you talk.
4. Repeats things you say quietly when you are not looking.
5. Phonetically transcribes bad speakers.
6. Watches in disgust as child tantrums in K-Mart.

Oh, and I nearly forgot.

"One must be careful not to be beguilled by the wiles of young men."
"Yes, Dear. Much wisdom where that came from."

ROFL.

Mum, you rock my world still.

froth.

Rabid.

palatable?

I want to skate.

Piggypoo, i miss you. Thanks for chatting ytd. even though we're both busy, i remember, really how much you matter. =) Rock on babe.

Cryptic schmyctic.

My notebooks are finishing, both the sermon one and the organiser. I want more Jordi Labanda notebooks! yum. yum. yum.

Rachel always complains that my posts are cryptic. They are, in truth, either cryptic or bimbotic.

Can this one be both?

I'm going into uni for some random mini conference. I am going to attack the next lecturer I see to ask them about the snail mail sendouts. I don't want to leave for Scotland unprepared. SIP preparation scares me. And I want a travel notebook. I want I want I want. Gimme gimme more gimme more gimme gimme more. Britney...

Sigh. Sometimes I think it's a matter of being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. Hmm. I'll take the deep blue sea anytime. I think I hurt people more than I know.

The Idea of Beauty.

She walks past, and the slim, sleek lines of her body in a falsely modest plain black tank top captures every single rod and cone in your eye's retina. As she reaches for the second highest shelf in one of the supermarket's mosaic aisles, you cannot help but notice perfection as it stretches. She turns, and the lines that mark her face are not pretentious, but your breathing suddenly stops and your vocal folds medialise as you piece her face in your mind, a thousand memories racing- and beauty registers. Is that true beauty? Is that beauty at all?

There is another. She whose lines curve and sag, no longer taut. She whose eyes have lost their glisten. She who registers pain, hurt, longing, sorrow. But she tries. She admits fault. She shows flaws. She fails, but picks herself up to try again. She is the epitome of imperfection, as we all are. Is she, too, beautiful? Where is the attraction in perfection? Perfection is attractive.. until one meets imperfection. Is that, too, not attractive, if not more? What would the world be like- uninteresting, but perfect? What's not to want, in this imperfect world? You want morality? You can strive for that. You want decadence? You can have that too. Human choice is a huge priveledge- the race for perfection is futile but fascinating.

And truly, cliched. It is true? It is not? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And I hope that when you look in the mirror, that beholder will be you.

Infatuation.

This, at its best, is madness, and at its worst, is futility's shattered glass, amassed on the floor in a well swept heap but undisposed of.

"When it's madness to hope, perhaps one's only hope lies in madness."

It was nice driving home from Alvin's new and perfect smelling home as the sun set. It was nice to think life might be a little Christmassy whenever I would take the time and effort to search for Christmas. That special feeling. Of being alone with my Lord, and living, knowing, living in knowing.

Do you wonder why this sort of brilliance only happens with physics and trigonometry? Because the brainiacs have their moments too!