My Tall, Dark Handsome.

I've been running home everyday now to tinkle on the upright piano. I think I'm in love. The only thing I've been looking forward to lately is coming home to its lap, running my fingers down his ivory skin, feeling its black, hard body resonate with my touch. My virginity makes me sometimes awkward, cautious, embarrassed. But tripping doesn't get me down now, because I know it's always patient, waiting for me to discover the what the right moves are.

I'm sorry I took so long, but the piano used to make me so sad. Every time I opened the hatch, an inexplicable sadness would flood out and depress every musical note that should have come out instead. I told my piano teacher once, that the piano was a pandora's box of the world's saddest memories, but she only laughed. Now its scratched and old, and dust has gotten into places I can't reach into. But I realise now why it has been boring all those holes into my heart - so it can plug them better with its music.



(If you happen to have the piano score for Ralph McTell's Streets of London, charm says please with chocolate sprinkles on the top (: )

Everything but the Art

a)Since Mr M Lim started getting really picky about the organization of my essays, I've developed this irritatingly sticky habit of numbering my points (as in "First, Second, Third...") in my blogs, which so many people (including Pierre Goh! *swoon*) do that I feel un-special doing it. But since the Stream of Consciousness more often than not backfires on me, I think I will begin organizing my posts alphabetically instead. Which technically still allows me to go about without breaking my self-imposed 'no-numbers-abbreviations-acroynms' rule.

b) I was at my art tutor's office this morning, with my giant head propped against the low cabinet in front of his desk, kicking it gently with my sneakers as usual. He always makes it a point to invite me across into his little cubicle-desk every now and then. All interactions should be set in such a way - so you know when exactly to close up the distance, and when to stay out. But anyhow, the atmosphere seemed so cheery I couldn't help but blurt, "I hear you have a really pretty girlfriend! Do you have a photo?"

"We just broke up."

He gave a small, sort of lopsided smile.

Well.

He must have been heartbroken for a bit. I wanted to kick myself, or disappear, or something, but I felt like I had to say something (which is always a mistake). So I said "Bigger fish out there."

Yeah. Kick me. Hard.

c) He showed me a photo of her anyway.

Another thing about Mr. Why does he find it so easy to tell me about his personal life? It's fascinating, and warm and friendly. But why?

d) Remember when that motherly Primary School teacher used to enfold you in the warm ruffles of her post-natal fat and tell you that you were a unique snowflake? (Thanks Colin, for reminding me. And depressing me too.) Well, some time in your life, you realize that you're really nothing but a sad, dirty water droplet. This is some time in my life.

A talent for writing and art! That's what they told me, but I feel like all I've been set up to is a really big and painful fall. I'm nowhere near good. And certainly not talented. And I have nowhere else to go.


Sad face.

Entry

I'm afraid that as the present becomes more and more immediate, as it always does, I will forget some of the little things that have happened. So I shall write them down here.

First of all amusing things, we've been having salsa lessons for PE (Physical Education) lessons (I know we all know what 'PE' is, but I hate using abbreviations and acronyms without first properly introducing them). The steps are probably too watered down to look anything but thin, but nonetheless still an interesting change from the mud-slinging, testosterone-packed games college PE always is about. Even for a Nanyang girl like me, conditioned during those four brick-walled years to think that every Monday was Chinese Dance day, every Wednesday Ballet, every Friday Ballroom Dancing, and every in-between day devoted to worshipping the school's dance troupe. (You mean there's more to a girl than dance??) But it wasn't really salsa that was amusing, but my talented dance partner, Waihong.

Now, do I really need to explain why? lol

I guess now I know why girls dressed in their dance partners' arms, being whirled all over the floor say they feel like they're top of the world. I certainly did feel like the biggest top in the world. But it was terribly fun! Imagine: the school's bad-boy jock from the prized basketball troop, dancing with the debate team captain, who catches only grammatical errors. I guess that's one thing college life is good for - it brings people like Waihong and me together, and makes friends out of them. But I've always been particularly impressed with him, so I was flattered to be his top for a little while.

I'm starting to get a little sad that I won't be seeing this guy anymore in six weeks' time! ):

Second, I spent a lovely Friday night with Su, picnicking in the middle of the city at the National Museum's outdoor screening of Breakfast at Tiffany's. So yes, sitting on a tiny grass patch by the road, under a "historically charged" Banyan tree, with chips, tuna and grapes is something you really should experience, if you haven't already. I was actually pretty proud of having convinced Su into having a quaint little by-the-way picnic, which I was sure was terribly special, until Liangwei later commented that we were simply being SMU (Singapore Management University) students. Whatever.

I found out last night, anyhow, that Favian was there too - a couple of metres away, no less. He said he glimpsed me - or the back of me, rather, but it didn't register, while Su and I were keeping half an eye out between us in the opposite direction for familiar faces. And we thought such star-crossed coincidences could only happen in Jimmy stories.

But enough of the past, for now. As to the future, Gaby and Charm are planning a lovely birthday (surprise) party for darling P. Join us! Because she's worth it. :P

Some Photographs I Love

Since Jon and I started work on the graduation video (or String Of Photographs, rather, I have no idea why everyone calls it a Video), I - your friendly, voyeuristic photographer, have been dutifully overturning every possible folder on my computer for material. I can't say I've found many photos of 06S60, but I have found some delightful ones (that I haven't already posted lately) which won't fit anywhere. (Photographs taken by me, unless mentioned otherwise, or if I'm in it, for obvious reasons). So here goes. Enjoy (:


Nigel (: I took this photo, which didn't really fit into our Dramafeste needs, so I asked him, What do I do with it? And he said "For you." Strange, but cute.


Nigel again


Waihong and Steve! I don't know who took this, but I love you. (EDIT: Okay, Waihong and Steve took it. I'm wondering if I should retract my statement :P)


Jack and Me (and Ronald's Handphone)


Su and Me, 'yellowing with dignity'.


Brilliant Alfred Seng, for the school magazine.


I don't need to tell you this guy's brilliant too.


Colin, in his Gollum Days, Fish and Vernon.


Tobias, Me, Stanley. I think the blur makes the photo look really cool.

Last Weekend, I Assumed I was the Happiest Girl on Earth

And with good reason too, because on Saturday, I became the proud owner of the whole set of Harry Potter, and spent Sunday watching Asian Boys, Vol.3: Happy Endings (vertically) wedged between Ian McKellen and Pam Oei, which I found to be a very desirable position upon realizing how green it made Colin, who paid nearly twice the amount I did to watch Saturday's matinee audience. :P)

If you've never tried telling your friends at the entrance of the theatre that Sir Ian McKellen will be sitting just in front (because you made it a point to buy all available seats-with-a-view), you should try it. The look of slow apprehension, like heavenly light dawning upon their faces, I only wish I could have caught and played back over and over and over again. Heh.

Took a photo of the pen - my pen - that Sir Ian McKellen used to give Yunsong an autograph. I will treasure this papermate ballpoint forever and ever and ever, or until I manage to sell it for $10.

It was really fun fan-girling (and boying, in our group's case), daring each other to produce our belly buttons for the inevitable autograph session. But to evoke the words of the world's favourite author, as we sat behind those white, white curls, he seemed 'nothing more than an old man'. A talented, amazing old man, perhaps, but yesterday, just an old man. Like the many, many other men sitting in the theatre.

Arguably, I became a lot less happy by Sunday night, because I'd finished reading Harry Potter. (SPOILER WARNING) I firmly maintain that it would have been SO much better an ending if Harry -really- died at The Sacrifice. Imagine:

" He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone. Everything was gone. "

The End.

Optionally, the following battle between Voldemort and the rest of the world could still happen, extricated from Harry's point of view. They realize that Voldemort's spells are no longer binding, Neville owns Voldemort, and they find out later that Harry pulled a Lily, and Harry becomes thus known as The Boy who Died.

Seriously.

Subtle Differences

Over the course of living, I've noticed several subtle differences which I feel are only right to share, since not knowing them, can lead to a massive amount of pain and humiliation.

So.


"I wrote a song last night, and I want you to hear it" may sound ALMOST like "I wrote a song last night, for you", when the former could really, simply just mean "I wrote a song, and you, being conveniently present at the moment have an obligation to hear it."

"You should wear your hair this way, you look better this way/I like it better when girls do it this way" even if accompanied by a lingering, soft look and the gentle touching/adjusting of your hair, could really, as difficult as it is to fathom, be simply an equivalent of "you REALLY look better if you did this, Ugly."


"I care about you" may melt your heart, but it could really, simply be just a way of saying "I dont really. But I need you to do as I say."


"You're not like other girls, pretty but no use. You really have substance." Compliment? I don't know, probably. But don't forget to listen out for the unspoken "Smart woman, but not pretty. Almost there."

Sigh.

When in doubt, consult Blogthings!

You Have Many Alpha Tendencies

You're not a total alpha female, but you certainly know how to - and like to - get your way.You're forceful without being intimidating. You're confident without being vain. A perfect mix.

So I *am* alpha. Ohh. ):

Adam and Eve Exposed

Adam and Eve Exposed

Damien Hirst, 2004

Number One Leh (photograph)

Alright, before I get into trouble - photo credit: Ryan Chan, who doesn't know I'm putting this here. So here's Hwach Canoeist, savouring his victory. Notice the poor NJC guy cowering in his defeat behind. Notice the cool shades. Notice the powerful arms. Notice how much you wish you could be him. And then notice that you're actually contented just to watch him in his glory. Moments like this always leave me in awe of youth, masculinity, and sheer power. And of course, the photographer.

And no, I don't know who the guy in the photo is. But I'm sure he can't fault admiration, can he?

wedding anniversaries

This day, twenty years ago, my dad bought my mom a ring. Twenty years since, he's bought her roses every single year. As 103 blood red roses (99 for the yearly installment following that ring, and 4 from us, the fruits of labour) sit in the living room now, I can't help but feel one of life's lessons diffuse relentlessly into my system: 103 roses do not smell sweeter than a single stalk.

But they sure as hell look sweeter.

Wedding anniversaries, quite unsubtly, always throw stories of layered cakes, white gowns, bridesmaids, that dinner, and in my mom's case - that once-no-larger-than-your-hand-span-waist, right into your face. After annually renewed deliberation, I've finally decided that I do like weddings. I like the idea of hope and potential wrapped in lace, and the finally getting round to doing your biological duty.

As a kid, I always looked at beautiful men and women in beautiful wedding dress and wonder what it would be like when my turn came. I couldn't say I noticed when that became wondering if I'll ever have a turn like that. And I wonder if I'll notice if and when this feeling becomes one of "oh dear, will my turn never come?"

On a second note, I want to be a wedding photographer: I want to frame happy people in happy pictures, to help build the memory of another, to use my lens to find the perfect images for Romance and Bliss. (: