|new // old // about // extras // layout // notes // email // diaryland|
this entry is really random. you've been warned.
Oh, how fun. First up on my list? Logan's "Nice car. That must've been a huge cereal box." And also Logan's "If cuddling is the best part, he isn't doing it right."
Um, and one more: "Anthropomorphic."
I'm sure I spelled that wrong.
I totally did NOT study today, I am so fucked for Contract, in fact I'm fucking Contract to hell right now and please don't ever come back, I spent the whole day online doing stuff which I can't even remember but chances are 99% of them were Veronica Mars-related, this obsession is going to kill me. '
Also, I stupidly ordered my IQ test results from Tickle.com for about S$21, simply because I could, and my rational side was telling me that it's a freaking stupid thing to do but my egotistical side went, "BUT I WANT TO SEE HOW SMART I AMMMMM!" and eventually the latter won over. Needless to say, the test report was a crock of shit - generic and bland, nothing I don't already know (well, except the bit where I did very well on the Math section), and half of it was choked with how the IQ test was developed, who uses the IQ test, the utility of your IQ score, stupid things that I really don't care about.
Having a debit card could be the worst thing that ever happened to me. I know I should check my bank account balance, but I don't even dare to anymore.
It's 10.07 p.m. and I'm on my second Mega Mug coffee of the day.
So, I went to Raffles City this morning. Because my mom is a drill sergeant and because going shopping with her is exactly like going to school for a morning class, I had to wake up at 9.45 a.m. despite me falling asleep only after 5 a.m. It was worth it though - I bought a killer denim skirt from EDC Esprit for which there was a 30% discount.
But because I can't calculate, I didn't know that after the 30% it's still $69.90. Man, I'm evil. And I also went against my principle regarding ripped denim clothings; before this, I was all, Why pay a store to tear your clothes for you when you can do it yourself? Today, I saw the red 30% discount stuck to a $99.90 price tag for a skirt I've been eyeing for months and I said, I LOVE YOU EDC AND I LOVE YOUR DISCOUNTS.
There you go. My principles totally do not hold up under scrutiny. I'm lousy. I deserve to die.
And other random self-deprecating remarks along those lines.
Oh, by the way Rui, if you're interested, that other Esprit skirt I got which you prefer in another colour (was it green or khaki?) is also on a 30% discount. Yay!
On a more serious note, I'm seriously considering applying to Yale, just for the heck of it. And um, well, also because it's the only college on my list that lets you replace the SAT subject tests with your A Level results. Columbia looks smashing but there's no way in hell I'm gonna take any SAT subject tests when it's not exactly certain that I'd do well on them.
But then again, Yale is Yale and not exactly NUS, and then there's still the generic SAT test which I think I won't do well on either (I suck at multiple choice questions and am ass-shat at 500-word essays), and there's still the whole co-cirricular (I think I spelled that wrong) activities thing and have I ever mentioned how skeletal my CCA record is? There's nothing much to say about my school achievements, apart from the whole Look At Me I'm a Valedictorian shit - which is actually really useless since I was in Jurong and not Hwa Chong - and my parents aren't from the Lee family, and we're not rich, and I'm not remotely a President's scholar or even a scholar, period, and basically, I'm too lazy to take the SATs.
But I feel like it anyway. Harold Bloom lectures there, if I'm not remembering the wrong Ivy. A Veronica Mars writer is a Yale English graduate (and we all know that anyone who writes for VM is a total genius). And...because...I...can? Well, I do just need to pay US$75 and I'd be effectively an applicant.
To be quite frank, I'm also too lazy to ask teachers to write recommendations for me and to ask my ineffectual JC to dig up my school records and mail it over. Besides, it's December and school is closed so who knows if they're not "closed" enough for me, right?
Above all else? I love writing. That's something that will never change.
I just need a subject matter, something important to say, find my own style, lovely things along those lines.
So, like, how screwed am I for Contract?
Please tell me I'm underperforming. Please tell me I'm underperforming. Please tell me I'm underperforming. I hate the fact that I sold out. I hate even more how I can't accept that. I hate very much the way I can't settle down.
Settle down? Hmm, seems to me to be another way of saying 'settle for less'. Settle down - is it just me, or does this phrase connote some form of taming, of reduction? You're all excited and screaming and all and the adults say, Settle down, girls! So you listen to the adults and you stop screaming, and you settle down and you're all quiet and docile.
You know what I mean? I hate that phrase.
A tangential thought: One major reason why I can't see myself getting married is because I can't picture myself living with another person who is not a part of my family - especially if he's going to be my boyfriend for life. That is just wrong, awfully unsettling, terribly boring. And I have to care for his parents more than mine? Fuck that to hell.
If you love me and vice versa we won't need a piece of paper to prove that.
I could do so many things, be cold and heartless, and the only thing that is stopping me is what my parents would think. My biggest secret is also the one thing that will hurt and disappoint them the most; I have to decide if it's worth it grabbing back a piece of self-esteem via vengeance when I know that the price to pay is a relationship with my folks shaded by lies and deceit.
And anyway, it's so terribly banal, the mere thought of that; I mean, been-there-done-that much? Hello, 2002?
As much as I hope I can, I still cannot, for the love of my sanity, picture myself going out with guys who can't speak English and are fugly to boot. Seriously, no matter how bored I am, a line has to be drawn somewhere. No more Singaporean guys. If getting married and settling down means settling for a local dude, I WILL RATHER CUT OFF MY TITS AND BLEED TO DEATH than that.
Oh, gross, seriously. Why is it that real life always pales in comparison to your fantasies and dreams? Is that a running joke life is playing on us mere mortals?
Speaking of jokes, I had an alternatively creepy and hilarious MSN conversation (and this is me using that word loosely) last night. Mel has already seen this and I was going to save it for...later, but hey, what the hell.
Random guy: but u how long dun have bf?
I stopped typing back after that; I was genuinely creeped out. Even while I was copying-and-pasting I was on the verge of throwing up.
You wonder what is wrong with such people. "What does 'prerogative' mean?" and note my gracious clearing up of his non-existent command of English, and you still don't get it?
Fuck off and die. Y u DuN uSe Gd EnGlAnD lEhZ? dO u NoE iT'z VeRi IrRiTaTiNg?
On second thought, that MSN conversation was a lot more creepy than hilarious - especially towards the end, with the whole 'dear' thing. I felt dirty afterwards.
People like that...should just die.
I was glad when Mel made snarky jokes about it when I MSN-ed her the snippet; it reduced some of the creepiness.
My new favourite word is "snark", even though it isn't really a word.
The more I write, the worse my writing gets. This means I should stop writing.
Wait, before I do that, as final proof of how over-the-edge obsessed I am, I'm downloading movies that were referenced in Veronica Mars. The Big Lebowski (Veronica was doing an impersonation in the previous episode), The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I will download Pump Up the Volume when I get my external DVD burner.
I'm still waiting for Logan Echolls to sweep me off my feet and ride into the sunset in his yellow Xterra together, just him and I. (Even though, SUVs aren't exactly hot, and he's technically younger than me. But hey, we can ignore that, because he's Logan "The Love of My Life" Echolls.)