<body>           // SMILE. <body> <body>

23:44.
" Sunday, 29 April 2007

Gosh, I've been reduced to monosyllabic renditions of a person's name for a post. How utterly stupid...

I sound like I'm in love.... hopelessly, head-ova-heels... in frickin' love!

But I'm NOT.

N-O-T. N-O-T.

I'm not in love, it's just a phase that I'm going through. Just a passing thing, I'm sure. I mean, how can one fall in love? I don't know how love works?! It's not a logical thing, is it? I can't just put it on paper and analyse a million things about it, can I? I can't type it out and feed it into a calculator and see what the outcome will be, can I? I can't just let it chart its own course with my heart...................

Or can I?



23:32.
"

Jonathan. Jonathan. Jonathan. JONATHAN. JONATHAN. JONATHON.

I think I'm in luurve....... *does a happy dance*

Toodle-pip! <3 <3 <3


21:17.
" Saturday, 28 April 2007

Haizzz............

Nothing to post about now...... and I don't feel any inspiration coming for a second poem :(

Fine.

Toodle-pip!


14:23.
"

How can I describe friendship?
Something that shifts and changes constantly
How can I catch it to put it on paper?
Sometimes you think it will never end,
And then it's gone.
Then, when you think it seems pretty fragile
It lasts forever
With some, it makes you give,
Buy them presents, please them,
Make them happy.
With others, you give as well,
But of yourself, your inner thoughts
Your problems and feelings,
And they give you theirs.
Some people you share with,
And they are your friends
Some people you play with,
And they are your friends
Some people you play with,
And they are your friends, also
Some you greet with a hug
And laugh at their antics,
But inside, they mean nothing to you
So how do you describe a friend?
Ask your heart.

I love you all. <3


18:59.
" Tuesday, 24 April 2007

Sorry for being a bit late with the updating! I touched down in Perth yesterday, and was on the com for most of the day but never got to blogger! -.-" Oh well, at least there wasn't a week-long gap between posts again! Improving! Yay! Okay.

Another song-ish post... yeah, yeah, I know you guys are bored stiff of 'em. I mean, who wouldn't be bored listening to some insane teenager relate random songs to her life? Yeah, whatever. I'm going to do it anyway =)

[This song is called Don't Give Up, and it's sung by Shannon Noll and Natalie Bassingwaithe]

*The italics are just how I relate to the song. Be prepared for some pretty long relate-tions*

In this proud land we grew up strong, we were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

All throughout my life, I've been encouraged, praised. Hours of tuition and a good mix of genes made me 'smart', or so people said. My mother pressed me hard, always wanting me to be the top of everything that I did. Teachers might not have liked me, but I did well in school, and there were those that appreciated that. I grew complacent... am complacent, because I've developed a disconcerting habit of judging some people as below me, just because they can't calculate algebraic equations at the drop of a hat. Hell, I can't do that either. But my mother has high standards, and if I told her that someone was really good at Maths, in fact, much better than me, and that she was getting higher marks than me... Yeah. My good ol' mum would be disappointed, give me her ' i'm-sending-you-overseas-for-a-better-education-and-this-is-how-you-show-you're-gratefui ' speech and I'd want to curl up in a corner and wilt. To preserve my dignity (since I have a major dislike for wilting and feeling guilty), I've learnt to pacify her with things like "Oh don't worry, she's not actually good at Maths, I just had some extra work that week so I couldn't revise". She laps the fibs up, and everything's fine. And now, I think that I'm actually starting to believe those white lies. And it feels terrible. It's like, there's two parts in me. The nice one that's like "Knuckle down and study, stop making excuses for your laziness!", and the evil one that's like "You know she sucks at Maths, just chill, you'll do better next time!". The evil one always wins out, nowadays. I never thought I could fail.

No fight left or so it seems; I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I’ve changed my face, I’ve changed my name
But no-one wants you when you lose

Once I left for Perth, I gave up. The evil side reigned, I suppose. I did major assignments the night before they were due, got As for them, rejoiced, and didn't give two hoots about school. The good side lost the fight. My dream to be a lawyer, a philosopher, all deserted. Why? Because at the rate I'm going, I'll never get enough in my TEE to be anything other than a boring old accountant. I'm not dissing accountancy, but being a lawyer is just what I've always wanted. Ever since we were asked what we wanted to be when we were grown-ups, my answer was always lawyer. In SCGS, I guess that I was focused. I revised when I had to, did well enough to land me in the top class for my senior years there. I knew what I wanted, and I worked hard to get the marks. Okay, maybe I slacked off in P5, but whatever. The main point is, I was working hard. I was studying, I was dilligent, I was determined to be a success. Once I hit PLC, it changed. I changed my name, my face... literally. The identity that was 'Eugenia' was now something completely different. This new version of me was bitchy, self-concious, interested in boys, a tad emo, had an un-Singlish accent, and judged someone by what they looked like. I dissed short, geeky people, fluttered between various social groups, and tried to look like I didn't enjoy the company of those aforementioned short, geeky people. I played the game well, until one day I slipped up. The real Eugenia reared its unwelcome head and stuffed all my plans for the social calender. The short, geeky people enbraced this new/old me. The queens of the year detested me. It was a win-lose thing. But I'd been an airhead for too long: the popular people's opinion was more important. Thus, I dropped the short, geeky people and worked hard to be my old, fake self. It was too late. No-one wants you when you lose. And I had lost.

Though I saw it all around, never thought that I could be affected
Thought that we’d be last to go
It is so strange the way things turn

The 'American teenager' syndrome. Often known as being 'bimbotic' or ATS. Hell, I saw it all around me. At the malls, at Learning Lab, and I scoffed at them. I told myself "What complete airheads! So caught up with their appearance, I bet they're gonna fail PSLE! Ha, serves them right what! So... stupid leh..." I knew what they did; browsed through magazines like Teens, had idiosyncratic sleepovers where they fixed their hair, nails, talked about boys, and ate inane amounts of junk good, and complained about being too fat a week after their binge instead of griping about the 33rd test they've failed. I regarded it as a horrible waste of time, a blight in an otherwise perfect world, a blip on the record. Being a bimbo was stupid, trashy, and a totally insane way to pass perfectly good time. Or so I thought until I began living with them. Fashion, the latest on the pop charts, hot boyfriends, hating school... welcome to the world of a ATS sufferer. You had to be up to date, you had to be fashionable, you had to have the hots for a jock from the school down the road, you had to have obscene amounts of money. I satisfied every criteria except for the 'obscene amounts of money' and 'fashionable' parts. But I tried. Oh I tried. Because being a victim of ATS meant that you were at the top. Feared? Maybe. Respected? Maybe. Ruling the year? YES. Everyone coveted that top spot, damn, we could have formed a cult! Some made it to the top. Others, like me, hovered near there, never actually having any chance of being on the throne, and knowing it... but we just had to try. Call it peer pressure, if you will. But the lure of the challenge was just irresistible. I, like everyone else, wanted a little taste of the power. The closest I got to it was... well, not even that close at all. Even as I made the transformation, I loathed ATS. With passion. I hated it more than I hate peas (which is saying something!). I hated it because I was it. And then ever so slowly, everyone else around me was affected. The old bunch of studious little nerds was becoming a bunch of teenagers with opinions, views, and a healthy dose of ATS. ATS is everywhere. Suddenly we cared about what to wear to shopping centres, eyed guys, and started 'excluding' people. We knew who we wanted to hang out with, and we weren't shy to tell those that weren't welcome to piss off. We'd evolved. We questioned orders, learnt to defy authority. No longer the perfect little children.. well, we soon won't be. I thought we'd be the last to change, seeing as how alienated we are from the USA. But I was wrong. We were influenced. Whether for better or worse, I'm not sure yet. It is so strange the way things turn.

There's actually another 3 more verses, but I've exhausted my echelon of personal experiences, so I'll just put a cork in it. I bet you guys won't even read the body of this post.. just skim through it. But that doesn't matter. I wrote this post just to get a load off my chest, and indulge in a spot of self-loathing. Oh well... I'm gonna go to the petrol station and binge on some chocolate. Next post is on Thursday! Not that most of you are actually going to voluntarily read it. I guess my posts are too long. But what's the point of limiting myself?

Toodle-pip, mon chere


12:25.
" Saturday, 21 April 2007

Attrapez-vous plus tard, cher
Catch you later, dear

Vous êtes toujours étroit, reine de mon coeur
You're always close, Queen of my heart

Tient le premier rôle seulement jamais l'éclat tellement brillamment en votre présence
The stars only ever shine so brightly in your presence

Empty words, the lot of them. Stupid movie quotes, the lot of them. Rehearsed lines by multi-million dollar actors. But what if they meant what they said? What if I meant it when I quoted the lines of French above, albeit jokingly, but what if I meant it? I meant every single goddamn syllable, but will it count? She doesn't know the real me, my Angie... only knows the 'other' me. So coming from the mouth of the alternate me, it fits. It sounds okay. It sounds good, it sounds right. But from my mouth, the real one, it doesn't. Does that mean that everything I said doesn't count? Even if there is friendship, is it considered fake? I don't know... I really shouldn't make this more complicated than it should be. I'm just chipping away at my short-lived happiness level yet again. *sigh*

Pfft. I'll just shut up now, I suppose. Like I've said before, me blogging is basically just like a ramble of my thoughts, and they'll come out in like, a random order. So seriously, don't be confused if you don't understand a smidgen of anything that I'm saying. It's just because my sequence of thoughts is just... yeah. Okay.

Toodle-pip!



03:04.
"

Another week-long gap between posts... *sigh* What is coming over me, I wonder...

Oh well, I've tried being cheerful. Happy, even. I've had a few bouts of retail therapy, spent time with friends, lazed around at home, but I guess joy isn't a prevalent emotion in my life. It just doesn't feel right that I'm all hyped-up and merry. And my mum's certainly not helping the situation. I'm sure you've read about the Virginia Tech shootings. So, my oh-so-intelligent mother puts two and two together, and starts comparing me to the GUNMAN. Oh please... what bollocks. She spent a whole 2 hours telling me about all the things I had in common with him e.g. writing 'depressing' poetry, feeling generally pessimistic, unsociable, 'dark'... the list goes on and on. To cut straight to the point, and avoid me spouting lines of literary profanity that would have Shakespeare turning in his grave, I'll dispense with any courtesy WHATSOEVER and just say that I felt like all of my earlier happiness just evaporated into nothingness and was replaced with the inane urge to throttle the bloody gunman.. wherever he is. Now my own MOTHER thinks that I'm going to become a psycho shooter once I hit uni. Great, I mean, my family is just so fucking supportive!!! Sweet Mary mother of God, I am really looking forward to going back to boarding school just to get away from all this bullshit. *sigh* But I don't want to leave Singapore, 'coz there are like, SO many people I wanted to go out with that I didn't have the chance to.... (PrezCheddar, Amber, Andrea, Min Wei etc.) and I feel guilty.

I've kinda stopped beating myself up about the Sports Day thing, but having a ton of people falling over themselves in apology isn't really helping the situation *glares at those few organisms*. Oh well... I guess that I'll just have to wait til July to repent for my sins. Haha... my, my... I'll be damned if that isn't a sign that religion is taking root in my mind =) This is probably going to be the only post you guys are gonna get for this next week, since the first half I will be @ my aunt's, and I prolly won't have frequent access to a comm... and the next I'll be back at Perth, and I doubt that I'll get my laptop rightaway, so yeah. This is going to have to last for you guys. I know it's not a masterpiece, and it's actually not even worth your time, but I just needed to put my jumble of thoughts into type. I know few people bother reading this blog since the posts are either too long, just a few sentences, or devoid of anything other than pessimism. So if I come back next week with no new tags, I'll know this blog has been abandoned, and with good cause. God, I sound so pitiful, I'm retching...

Sometimes I wonder why I can feel heartwrenchingly sad on the inside, but I don't cry. I just curl up on my bed, or lay my head on my arms, and feel three tears slowly trickle down my cheek. Then it stops; the ache lessened, but still tangible. Maybe I'm incapable of strong emotion. It's a strength, I reckon. The less people love you, the less you express to them, the lower your chances of getting hurt. That's the only useful thing I ever garnered from PLC Melbourne. I've no doubt that this mantra is going to work. I mean, everytime I size up a potential friend, this snarky little voice starts going on about how they could use my dreams, and fears against me. Suddenly this friend starts to look as friendly as a horned demon. I suppose having this little minder in my head is a good thing since it's looking out for me. Or is it? This innocent little minder, delving deep into my head, learning about my dreams and fears, then turning me against myself. But I feel that this minder is the only thing I can trust. I can only trust myself, and that makes sense to me. Twisted logic.... I know.... but it's the only form of thinking that I excel at. It might be bad for me, it might be damaging, but hey... it feels right now, so fuck everything else.

Toodle-pip, my dear readers who I've probably scared off forever =P

Toodle-pip


23:07.
" Monday, 16 April 2007

Le tenir le premier rôle qui rit ne fait pas ainsi dans la gaieté, mais à l'ironie de son existence

The star which laughs does not do so in mirth, but at the irony of its existence

Etoile qui rit, my friends. Etoile qui rit indeed. I'll let you puzzle out this little quote I put together. Try to figure at what I'm getting at. Ju, this involves you.

Toodle-pip!


20:10.
" Sunday, 15 April 2007

It's been like, almost a week since I last posted... *sigh* I hope it's not a sign of redundancy [if there's such a preposterous word], because I'm sick and tired of starting a new blog every 6 months or so. Before I lapse into the boring details of my obsession with this site, I better tell you that I have some good news. Yup, that's right. GOOD NEWS. That's a first for me since I touched down at Changi Airport on the 30th of March 2007. I feel.... proud! ( Does an insane happy/tribal dance on the bed ) I mean, good news is an inclination that people feel HAPPY, right? And if I'm feeling happy, it means that I'm getting over it! I'm moving on! Whoo-hoo! Go me, it's your birthday, we gonna party like it's your birthday, gonna sip Bacardi like it's your birthday... yeah, you get the picture. I'm just inexplicably HAPPY! Okay, on with the good news:

It's coming a bit late, and I'm not sure if this is gonna be considered good news by anyone other than my darlin' Maddi :) Anyhow... yeah. SO MADDI, YOU BETTER READ THIS SCREWY POST, BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE IS GONNA MAKE HEAD OR TAIL OF IT, OKAY? OKAY! So, basically, since I've stopped brooding about losing Jenny and all, I've had time to really think everything through. I remember the MSN convo we had the other day, ya know, the one where you faked being a lezzo for April Fool's, the one where you told me you were pissed at me for spraining my ankle on camp, the one where you said you were too quick to judge.. blah blah blah. You 'member, right? Basically, I've been turning things around in my head, reminiscing, laughing at my antics, and I think that I'm going to have a fresh start when I come back in about a week's time. That's right, a fresh start. Which means NO arguing with Pinky no matter how stupid she may seem, NO bickering with Clapin about inane things like Mathematics, and NO being an unsociable person. I mean, I didn't try much in the friendship department last year, and I wasn't as open as I could have been to many people. To those people, I'm sorry. To those that I constantly annoyed for the whole of the 1st semester, and those that finally agreed to be friends [Maddi included], I'm sorry for pissing you guys off. Really. Going to Melbourne and comparing it to Perth really opened some realms for thought. I really appreciate everything that happened in 2006, and more, and I guess that the good news is... I've made up my mind to be TOLERANT! YAY! lol :P

So much for good news! Well, being tolerant IS a place to start... and I just hope that I'll be less violent in future with regards to vengeance :D Okay. Now the good stuff is outta the way, it's time to move on to the BAD news. Drumroll please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bad news is... something other than Jenny is making me all depressed inside. It's another friend issue, and I'm afraid that I've lost this one for good. And that it's a two-way thing; she was angry, I was angry. Mutual angry-ness. A bad combination in any situation. I think I'll withhold names for privacy's sake, though those that were with me on Friday, Sports Day, will probably know who and what I'm referring to. I apologise in advance for any feelings that might be hurt. I'm sorry, but I just need to put this in words... it's killing me.

First of all, I had made plans the night before to go out with a group of friends. Thinking that since we'd all have been in the same class for at least 2 years, we could tolerate each other, and I took a slight risk in inviting someone that wasn't exactly fond of the so-called 'group' that I had invited [and vice versa]. So Sports Day came and went, and it was SUPER enjoyable, if I might add. DEBBIE WON A LARGE SHINY TROPHY!!!! YAY!!! Ok, getting sidetracked here... Basically, I invited someone that might not exactly get along with the majority of the people on the little shopping expedition. While I was hanging around the bleachers after the meet had ended with her in tow ['her' being the one that isn't quite well-liked by the other people I invited yada, yada, yada] the other girls came up and told me that they wouldn't go if She [which is in this case, the 'her' referred to earlier] was going. I was shocked. Pissed, shocked, puzzled, and frustrated all at the drop of a hat. Nothing against those girls, but there's nothing WRONG with her. Just because she's a bit kooky, and has some disdain for girly-girls, doesn't mean that you can't be friends, right? Wrong, they said. They apparently couldn't spend even an hour eating lunch with her. Here is where I messed up, I think. Seeing as the majority of the group wouldn't turn up if she went, I chose the logical solution- please the majority. So I did it. She mighta shed some tears, I almost did in my pity, and she was out of the little outing. As a minor consolation, I offered her a ride home. It took us a while to get chatting again, but my heart soared when she seemed like she had grudgingly forgiven me, and she even asked me to go out with her on Sunday. I leapt at the chance to redeem myself and decided that no matter what, I'd turn up at the church on Sunday. Well, Saturday came, and late that night, she SMSed me. She was calling it off. Partly because I don't have any idea where West Coast is, and getting to the sermon on time would be a miracle. And I'm not a very miracle-attuned individual, if that makes any sense. A bit surprised, I asked her if she wanted to go anywhere else. Escape Theme Park popped up on the list, and so did a number of other places. After getting that text, I rushed off to shower, and as Fate would have it, forgot that my phone existed until Sunday morning. I woke up, feeling horrible. I'd let her down. Left her hanging, probably ruined her plans for Sunday, and lost her forever. I doubt I'll be forgiven as easily as the last time. Then again, my mind might just be a bit over-imaginative, conjuring up these negative thoughts and feelings. I mean, she didn't SOUND that pissed in her last text. But I won't know. I'm trying to work up the nerve to call and apologise, just in case she took my forgetfulness as an insult, and swore to never ever talk to me again. But some stupid part of me keeps saying that I'm overreacting, and that I should just let her simmer for a bit until she calms down, and everything will go back to normal. But another naggy facet of me is screaming "CALL HER, YOU RETARDED BITCH! YOU HAVE TO!!! GET YOUR SORRY ASS ONTO THE TASK NOW!" I'm tempted to go with the more polite, less-profane voice's advice.. but it won't help anything in the long run if she's really had it with me now. So I guess I'll call her. Not now, no... but tomorrow. ASAP. Yeah, I'll do it. I better do it.

Okay. No words of wisdom to wrap up this post. Just a simple.............................

Toodle-pip!


00:54.
" Tuesday, 10 April 2007

I guess I just have to face it. I can't live without her. It's an impossible, cruel task set by Fate. I just can't. You try it, my friends. Try tossing and turning at night, plagued by memories of disco lights, dancing, laughter, and whispers. I dare you. Try not being able to sleep, every second thought turning back to HER, playing depressing songs over and over again until dawn comes, try it. No? I knew it. You're scared, maybe. Maybe you guys think I'm delusional. Maybe I'm just being a fool. Yes, maybe I'm a fool. Because she deserves so much better than me. So. Much. Better.

**********************************************

I think you can do much better than me
After all the lies that I made you believe
The guilt kicks in and I start to see
The edge of the bed where your nightgown used to be

I told myself I won't miss you
But I remembered what it feels like beside you

I really miss your hair in my face
And the way your innocence tastes
And I think you should know this...

You deserve much better than me

**********************************************

I bet you think I'm crazy. Unfortunately, I'm not. I just miss her so bad. I've gotten closer to her than I ever have with anyone, I mean, we just CLICKED. Just like that. We shared so many laughs, some tears, but always happiness. Now I realise that I'll never experience the same kind of joy. I'll still be happy, of course, but not in the same way. The little stanza in italics is the 1st part of 'Much Better Than Me', by Hinder [the song currently playing on the blog now]. It kinda fits my situation, don't ya think? No, maybe I shouldn't ask for your opinion. Because no words can cover this feeling I have inside. I doubt she's feeling the same way now. Like I said before, I've been a fool. A blind, bumbling fool. Until common sense reared it's unwelcome head and whacked my in the face a few hours ago. She's gone. There's nothing I can do about it. I have to move on.

Have. To. Move. On.

I'm repeating it out loud, hoping the words will just suddenly take effect.

But I don't think it's working...

Toodle-pip, my associates. Toodle-pip indeed...


21:52.
" Friday, 6 April 2007

I've been in a very depressing mood lately... for absolutely no reason at all.

Or is there a reason?

Okay. Maybe it's because my fickle mind is making me regret making my return to PLC Perth. Maybe it's because I know that there's no good cause for me to be doing so. Maybe because the single friendship I've inadvertently broken off is the most precious one that I've had in a while. Maybe because I've taken it too seriously. Maybe because I've lost my heart. Maybe because I'm not the person everybody thinks I am. Maybe because I'm finally done lying, but I can't stop doing so. Maybe because my life is screwed beyond repair. Maybe because I'm done with Life. Maybe because sometimes I feel like dying. Maybe because I pour so much emotion into my writing, I haven't got any left for my friends. Maybe because of this lack of emotion, I'm becoming an outcast. Maybe because I couldn't care less about being different. Or maybe because I DO care... and I care alot.

It's hard leading a double life... denying what I am to fit in. Maybe I should just have been open about it from the start. If I had been more honest, maybe she would have understood. Maybe she wouldn't have left without looking back. But who am I to impose on others? Suppose she wasn't even what I thought she was- maybe she's normal. Maybe she never wanted to be friends in the first place. I guess that's the logical explanation for how she acted that very last day. But I can't forget, no matter how hard I try, the night it all came together. Who cares if she was squeamish about going to the goddamn social in the first place? WHO FUCKING CARES?

All that matters is that she let go. Let go of her inhibitions, let the music carry her, and me. That was the happiest night of my life. It was just her, me, the other girls and the music. Even when we were trying to wind up the teachers, it was still just us. Bliss... total, oblivious, bliss. Even afterwards, on the walk back, the joking around and me pretending to be drunk. We shared a good laugh, she caught me when I almost fell, and time stopped. I just stared, and kept on staring into her eyes, laughter bubbling in my throat as the response to her joke came into mind. But it was never about the joke, was it? Then two of us stumbling down the stairs, clutching each other, still laughing about the hilarity of the situation: dishevelled hair, smudged makeup, sweat, and all we could think about was having a cup of Milo and some food. Collapsing on chairs in the dining room, panting with the exertion of trekking nearly 800m in impossibly high heels, we laughed and laughed. Grace and the 2 Nicoles just kept staring, but we laughed on and on, and soon the whole room was filled with laughter from 5 insane Year 9s. I made myself a cold Milo with extra milk, and she spooned some watermelon into a cup. We must have sat there for at least half an hour, half-asleep, but buzzed with the passing adrenaline rush from the dancing. Nicole Lee left, then Nicole Foo, then Grace, and the 2 of us were alone. Our conversation reverted to the all-popular topic of my ex-boyfriends, and why they were suddenly after me again. Standing side by side at the sink, we washed out our cups, and time stopped again. We both held the same washcloth, and this time it was her staring, while I just stood, mute. Slowly, the cloth was prised from my hands and the washing-up done. Awkward silence broken, I looped an arm around her waist and 'escorted' her to our room, where we once again broke into laughter when my phone started ringing. Without bothering to change, we slid under the covers, totally knackered, but still chatting deep into the night about random things. I fell asleep halfway, I think, the soothing sound of her voice lulling me into slumber. I guess she soon realised that she was rattling on about school to no one and she too fell asleep. I think I dreamt that night, but I couldn't remember what it was the next morning. The memories of the social were still too fresh.

Life went on, as usual, interspersed by friendly bickering and the usual gossip, until I had only a week left at Melbourne. One restless night, we came up with what I deemed 'the most fantastic idea ever'- to scare the pants off Nicole Lee. I knew about 'fake-kissing', [where one puts a hand between their mouth and the other person's mouth, and kisses that instead] and since Nicole Lee was slightly homophobic, my little prank was perfect! We practised, with me trying my best to keep a straight face while sniggering uncontrollably at the same time, and her staring blankly at me, still wondering about how she was supposed to kiss her hand. With our half-baked routine embedded firmly in our minds, we stumbled next door and got as far as the first 10 seconds of the plan before just giving up and dashing off to our room again. She swore never to do anything like that EVER again, but once I pleaded, and her strong resolve wobbled, I knew that she would do anything for me, even if it took ages to get 'round to it. The next night, we modified the prank a little: this time, she would be up against the wall, and I would have my mouth near her neck in a 'vampiric' display of affection. There would be no actual physical contact between us, of course, since she was so against it. We practised this new plan too, in the dead of the night, and Valerie stumbled upon our display, and thought we did it for real. Once again, the curse of unstoppable laughter struck and we were chuckling ourselves to sleep. I was so sure that we would get a chance to execute this plan... but it never came.

My last hour in Melbourne, and we were at the airport with my guardian. She kept snapping pictures of me walking around, scowling, then smiling madly. It was a bit of a pain at first, then I just let her have her fun; it might be the last chance she ever gets to snap pictures of me, ever. We hung around a bit, then I had to see her off. I opened my arms for a hug, and so did my guardian, but she froze, seemingly undecisive. My happiness level plummeted. Why was she suddenly so uncomfortable now? "It's just a hug" I reassured her, and slowly, like a spooked horse, she settled into the promised hug. Just as a last little tease, I brought my mouth just above the skin of her neck and exhaled, expecting her to tense up and giggle, but not expecting her to jump away like a bee-stung dog, swatting at my hands. There was a lump in my throat, and I never felt more abandoned in my entire life. I whispered a goodbye, betrayed and guilty, afraid that I had driven her away. If she had seen any indication of my feelings, she never let me know, and just waltzed away with a flippant wave, not looking back. I felt horrible. Horrible enough to contemplate running after her and kneeling, shouting out apologies for the world to hear. She probably deserved that attention. But I just stood there, numb, and turned to walk away, heart chipped beyond repair.

She's brought light into my life, then snatched it away just as quickly. She's let me soar, full of joy, and she's let me fall into the void of despair. She's opened me up to new things, but remains closed to the world. I've written a poem about her in my first post, and I've devoted this entire post to her. You deserve to know who she is. She is my Queen, my room mate, my confidante, my best friend, my mon chere, my etoile qui rit.

She is Jenny Yun Shen. The bane of my existence, and one of the reasons why I exist.

Toodle-pip. Although I'm in no mood for such a jovial farewell.


22:34.
" Thursday, 5 April 2007

Well, dearies... I have one question for you:

AM I A 'WILD CHILD'?

The answer's probably gonna be No, right? I mean, just because I wear black, get a kick outta tormenting people, and have a ton of rings and chokers... doesn't mean that I'm a rebel! Seriously, I'm not in a constant feud with my parents, and I haven't dyed my hair pink in defiance of society's stereotypes, so why does my mum think I look like a 'WILD CHILD'?! Just because I don't wear petticoats and lacy knee-length skirts with fawn leggings doesn't mean that I'm a suicidal-punk-in-the-making!!! She's TOTALLY exaggerating my fetish for black clothing and accessories. You guys agree with me, right? I mean, I'm not a punk, right? Right?

Fine. Ponder that question in your own time, ladies and lordlings!

Toodle-pip!


13:02.
"

Here's a little something I discovered recently :D

Doctors:

(A) The number of doctors in Asia is 700,000
(B) Accidental deaths caused by physicians per year are 120,000
(C) Accidental deaths per physician is 17.14%

Statistics courtesy of the Dept. of Health and Human Services

*******************************

Guns:

(A) The number of gun owners in Asia is 30,000,000 (yes, that's 30 million)
(B) The number of accidental gun deaths per year, all age-groups, is 1500
(C) The number of accidental deaths per gun owner is 0.001875%

Statistics courtesy of the FBI

*******************************

So statistically, doctors are approximately 9000 times more dangerous than gun owners.

Remember, guns don't kill people, doctors do.

FACT: NOT EVERYONE HAS A GUN, BUT ALMOST EVERYONE HAS AT LEAST 1 DOCTOR.

Please alert your friends to this alarming threat.

We must ban doctors before this gets completely out of hand!!!

{ Out of concern for the public at large, I have withheld statistics on lawyers for fear the shock would cause people to panic and seek medical attention }

Toodle-pip!


21:42.
" Wednesday, 4 April 2007

Erm... not much to say about anything right now -.-" I mean, I started this new account on a whim ('coz I'm sick of the old one) and I wasn't planning ahead on what to write. I suppose that I should have some kind of introduction thing, but maybe I won't need it til later, when people start to actually read and take in what I'm blabbing about *sighs heavily* Well, maybe a little poem will help kill this awkward silence :D It's one that I wrote yesterday about a friend of mine that I've left behind. Um... bon appetite?

==================================================

I saw it in her face
That we were only friends, nothing more
Feeling a right disgrace
Wanting only a hug, forsaken at the door

With a flippant wave, no looking back
Waltzing out of my life
Took a knife to my heart; now it is love I lack
Leaving me caught in the tide of strife

The times she refused my hand on her shoulder
The times her own were wound around me
The times I pushed our limits, getting bolder
The hurt felt when she said "No", I never let her see

How I tried to get close, overcome with desperation
Throwing my heart into foolish dreams
Too late now, I've forced our seperation
Hiding failure behind the smirk of a cat that's got its cream

Maybe it's the power I had over her innocence
Now replaced by a facade as black as my own
Taught her too well how to play the game, lost my common sense
Lost her to the darkness, oh how she's grown

Grown into the thing I hate most
I'm sorry, 女王. So, so sorry...

Ahem... I think that only intensified the awkwardness of the situation. Oh well, no biggie. Once I get out more, I'll have more crap to write about. Til then, I suppose.

Toodle-pip!


"LA FEMME .
hello, I am your worst nightmare

&maybe there's beauty in goodbye





Name: Eugenia
Birthday: 080294
School: PLC, Year 9


Oh, and I like chocolate. (:

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"PAST .
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April 2007
May 2007
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"SO THEY SAY .
from the horse's mouth

"Do you know what this is?"
"Um... apple juice, sir?"

"I don't have 10-year plans, I have right-now plans."

"He's back!"
"..."
"Took you a while, eh?"

"All I ever get from you is verbal diarrhoea!"

"CREDITS .
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