Springbonjo

I overheard my parents discussing money just now. How stressful, that I must really earn my keep in 3 years or so. It’s stressful cuz I know I’ll be draining their money for studies, I hate it that I can’t ease their load. I’m doing my best to find a job, but I’m fussy, and I won’t be able to help much for expenses in the large picture anyway. It doesn’t mean I don’t try. I kinda would hate myself for sucking up their funds in one year of futile TP- but let’s not go back to pessmism’s beckonings.

I should aim for something, and do it. My darl once told me of her friend, how she sets her mind to it and she does it.

It’s easy, I should focus, aim…

Target.

ARGH FLICKR IS DRIVING ME NUTS cant do the bdage nor post HELP PLS

Oh goodness, I realised I have too many pics to organize. Too many. I can’t display all of them- I feel it’s too personal. And now I’ve uploaded some. Argh.

I really really ought to see a chinese physician for my back. It’s killing me, and slowing me down. If I’m not careful, I’ll be 64, and NO ONE’S GONNA FEED ME AND NEED ME WHEN I AM 64 (ref beatles song below). Fuck it’s such a fucking pain in the ass. Anyway, about the song, I first got to know song below in my sec 2 literature class- one of the topics we covered was love. Somehow through all these years I still remembered this song. I want a 64 guy. Though people know would probably want a 69 partner, if you know what I’m saying.

It suddenly struck me I’m not going to be a kid any longer, while wiki-ing Foxtrot and absent mindedly taking note Peter is 16. And of course, I would compare my own age, which is 18 soon. Suddenly 21 looks so close- tomorrow is Jun’s bday and she hates her bday. She’s a peter pan kind of kiddo. Suddenly I will be before I know it, midhead in my twenties- it’s all rather terrfiying, I hadn’t really thought about growing up in detail. My past years were spent focusing on my O Levels, then tertiary education, then some sort of teenage breakdown I guess.

I should have taken note of the signs- that Jess’s boyfriend drove us all 18, 19 and 17 year olds packed in a car to eat dinner, him being 19. Jess learning riding. Friends talking about driving- 18 is the legal age to drive. That we watched M18 movies with scenes of fucking, swearing, sexual topics, violence.

Bineg 21, an adult- It’s still terrifying I tell you.

When I’m Sixty-Four
by Beatles, The

When I get older losing my hair
many years from now
will you still be sending me a valentine
birthday greeting, bottle of wine
If I’d been out till quarter to three
would you lock the door
Will you still need me
Will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

Send me a postcard, drop me a line
stating point of view
indicate precisely what you mean to say
yours sincerely wasting away
Give me your answer fill in a form
mine forever more
Will you still need me
Will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

As of today, I weigh 2kg less. I haven’t checked if its zero error. I don’t intend to. Ah, denial. Junk food is bad- I don’t want to touch it anymore. I RESOLVE TO NEVER TOUCH JUNK FOOD NO MATTER WHAT. Just a bite of it draws me back to it- my dieting is STILL in a plateau.

Watched Oprah’s 20th anniversary just now. I love her- she’s the epitome of compassion and all. She featured guests from her show in the last 20 years; I got to see Ku Klux Klan or whatever. I’m digusted, the first I knew of the existence of such white supremists was on Deb’s blog. Basically this bearded man named Dennis was like saying Nigger to Oprah’s face back and that his definition was people who made trouble. Dude, you don’t say chink to a chinese like me and think it’s referring to uncivilized/troublemakers, even I know that. But anyway, I think he was misunderstood.

Benny msged me last night. I told jun he’s loverboy material. No prizes for guessing who’s husband material.

Read Spiderman Blue before bed. Ah, bliss of comics.

Ben is home friday. Say yay.

The sun seem to shine really bright today- no particular reason to feel good but just do.

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I think I ate something wrong- been shitting my guts out. Now that I can’t eat junk food I want junk food even more. Great.

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I have never understood the extent women do for some things. Like the few times my judgement was imparred enough and I read chick lit and all or got closest to utter stupid oestrogen overload, they seemed obsessed with manicures/pedicures, waxing, shoe shopping, perfume. I mean- pedicure/manicure is just making your nails have more colour. I think it’s a waste of money. And waxing? I don’t do swimsuits nor need to reveal any of myself to anyone. Let it grow as long as it doesn’t see the sun. Shoe shopping- what’s with women and shoes? Sure, I like shoes- only to wear, not to have it as a fetish. I don’t do perfumes- waste of money and the bloody thing doesn’t stay on for long.

I did a pedicure on myself today- actually it was digging out an ingrown toenail; involving blood and all.

How feminine.

I do however advocate girly pleasures like shopping and bags, and I adore afew magazines like teen vogue, seventeen (us), vogue and vainity fair.

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Sometimes, I think the only reason why I want something is cuz I want to spite others/out of my reach, but not cuz I really like it. Bad.

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Placebo’s Song to Say Goodbye mtv made me cry. Lindsay Lohan’s Confessions of a Broken Heart made me cry. What a crybaby.

I love Ashely Parker Angel’s Let you go- Benedict likes that song too, he said it wasn’t bad when I played it to him. Was watching There and Back on Mtv- Ashely’s struggles to make it back again, he was one of the Otown dudes. I think he was much cuter back then.

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Stomach’s till queasy. Now I want cereal.