on tuesday i found myself at blockbuster. i guess i didn't last very long, trying to stay off movies. i borrowed night at the museum, dream girls, and man about town. i liked man about town the best. and no, that's not because of ben affleck. i thought the movie was well done. the characters weren't your standard cut-out figures, (i'm not talking about the weird chinese girl thing) and there were some nice shots, including my favourite, the elevator scene.

i didn't realise that i could fastforward the ads, so i watched them all, deciding that i wanted to watch art school confidential and the wicker man (but that's not possible because i'll get nightmares), and crying my way through the gridiron gang trailer. i really like that movie. i was pretty irritated with my brother when he said it looked boring.

so i was showering, and we had a blackout. dad says i should be glad that the water, at least, continued flowing but i was not happy about drying and dressing in the dark. or about shouting like a headless chicken because i thought candice was pranking me. i was really creeped out when there was no response from her room.

i think i should explain why i hate it when people call me multiple times in a row. this is because for each missed call, i receive an sms telling me that i've got a missed call. this is highly irritating because due to my sentimental nature and complete inability to delete the majority of my messages, my inbox is permanently two messages from being completely full. so when i get 7 missed calls, i have to delete them one by one, then wait for the next message to appear, then delete again, and wait for the next one...

so i'll leave you with a text i received earlier this year:
"Rain heavily drive slowly there are accident on the road be more carefully."
Sender: Ice.
Received 16:09:54. 24-04-2007

see why i can't bear to delete it?

i [really] cant cook

let me recall my cooking adventures today:

I came home from uni at 2:00pm. Mum told me to microwave (okay so this story isn't even about cooking, but microwaving) the leftover porridge for 2 minutes. So I did, and it came out looking a bit like kueh.

I asked mum for help, but she was rushing off to the airport, so she just said "microwave half a cup of chicken soup for two minutes, pour it in, and stir. heat up the fish as well!" I did that, but somehow there was waaaay too much chicken soup. So I got a spoon and drank what I approximated to be excess soup.

Then I dumped the fish in. I don't know how it ended up tasting fishy (mum says it's because I didn't break it up into smaller pieces first), and in all the drama I forgot to add the light sauce. But at least I wasn't hungry.

s'pore meds gathering

it was okay. the effect of cramming lots of singaporeans into a small house was almost HDB-al. the highlight of the night was when some fresher said something derogatory about himself because he was from VJ (ie not Raffles or Hwa Chong), and CL got up and pretended (i hope) to beat him up.

Ack! Two of my favourite singers!

There For Me

I might die of happiness.

Edit: No wait. Now I have.

yesterday i went over to the music library to look for some baroque stuff. one thing i really like about the harpsichord, it isn't phony. it's not the sort of music you have to dress up in order to dance to. the sort of music that's normally played in places where people don't give a crap about you if you're fat and are dressed like Old Rebecca's mother, but if you look nice and ivy league and belong to about ten clubs then people flock over to discuss the crops with you for hours.

the music librarian and i sort of struck up a conversation, because neither of us knew how to find the scores i was looking for. she did try. she gave me the call numbers for handel and bartok. i liked her.

so what i did was, i went over to the bachs' aisle and looked at cantatas and oboe music, pretending i was one of those really smart, musically gifted people. i climbed up and rolled around on the mini ladder/footstool as though i was on a quest for the holy grail of baroque. i quit horsing around the music library eventually. there's only so much fun you can have when you're sober and alone.

so what i thought i'd do was, i thought i'd head over to reid and get a book out. i got out this one that was called "the catcher in the rye". it's by salinger. it's about this kid holden who hates phonies and words like "grand", so gets the axe from elite school after elite school. that killed me.

earlier in the day, i bumped into the principal of my own elite ex-school. it's a good thing i'm a total phony, cos i turned around to greet her before realising who she actually was. she said hi to me, and it's hot today, isn't it? i agreed, i was sweating like hell from saturday morning sport, but it was all i could do to resist holding up this humungous yellow blister i had. i know it's totally crazy, but that blister both disgusted and fascinated the hell out of me.