It’s like seeing how life’s going to be in five or six years or so. More importantly, it was kinda fun seeing my Sister tense up and turn pale whenever the nurse come by to poke a needle into her veins. And it was not really that fun to see it squirt all over when they do it wrongly. Makes me wonder about the system sometimes, when they often do it wrong than right.

Anyhoo, what the heck am I talking about yesh? :) I’ve only told a few, but yes, my Sister had dengue and was admitted to the hospital and stayed there for three days, while my Mum and I lingered by to see she was comfy, fat and healing. She was then prodded by nurses and doctors alike with needles, and was on the drips and finished like, more than ten bags of it. And whenever they change it, blood squirts out like whoa. Of course, since mosquitoes are pesky little monsters, they then decided to bite my Mum and Bro, and now, they’ve the symptoms too! :(

Of course, though I’ve few of them, I don’t have the main icky one, which is fever. So I’m counting myself out. And having a lot of fun pounding young papaya leaves to make bitter concoctions for my siblings and Mum to drink. Since its apparently an old age remedy from India.

Cooking frogs with bitter-gourds is another one I’m having tons of icky fun with. Touching the skinned frogs and prodding their stringy tender meat at their jumpy legs is really, really disgusting. Somehow its even worst washing skinned frogs than, let’s say, chicken, or pork. It just is, eventhough, technically, they’re all dead animals that have already been skinned. Shouldn’t make any difference, but I’m irked about eating meat now. Bleaaah.

It’s tiring too, cleaning up the house and pushing all junk away just in case the fogging people decided to stop by. Which they haven’t though they should have ages ago. So now we’ve gone to spraying Listerine around the house, cause mosquito coils which stinks have not worked.

And I should start making cards for the ex-ACTP-ians leaving already. :( Somehow, I just don’t have the mood. I’m sorry. :( I also haven’t sent promised presents. :( Sorry. I really want to do so much, but somehow my priorities are helping my siblings score in their exams. My Bro has not yet gotten an A in BM, and my Sis is screwing up Eng Lit and I’m supposed to sit in front of them and stare at them so that my brain power (however mediocre it is) can get to them and help them. And then I’m not supposed to watch TV or play my Mac cause it distracts me, like now. My Bro is listening to music and not really studying. TOMORROW TRIALS ADUH. And in the morning when they’re not around I go around cleaning stuff, and cooking and IT TAKES UP ALL MY TIME cause I do it slowly.

I’m sorry for procrastinating and not doing cute stuff for you guys to remember me in the US or whatever, or just presents. :( Even to J-Cyn and Sam. Supposed to give you epic gifts and I haven’t been able to get to it and I feel guilty everyday and then I can’t sleep again, but I have to be in bed by 11 CAUSE MY BRO WON’T SLEEP IF I DON’T. Seriously, he nags at me to sleep early and he stays awake if I don’t sleep, and then he’s late to school, and I’ve to rush him, make him breakfast and everything. Seriously. They’re such kids, and being a MUM IS SUCH HARD WORK. My Mum has taken to calling me the Other Mum. And she’s happier cause I help around and I really wanna do more too, at the same time.

Which means I haven’t written anything for my story either. Sad. :(

Oh time, you’re passing me by too fast. :(

Do help me pray for quick recovery though? And please please please, when Bro and Mum go for blood test tomorrow, NO DENGUE. Especially the hemorrhaging type which my Sister had. :( And I don’t want fever! (I might have, I just ain’t telling my Mum.) She’s worrying her ass off as it is already.

And the frog boiling in the double-boiler now? NOT TOUCHING THAT.

Had enough of the crocodile meat with herbs soup I had the other day for my asthma. OH GOSSSSSH. THE SMELL. It smelled like dead carcasses, which was exactly what it was. :( SO YUCKY. Horrifying childhood memories drinking galleons of that suddenly came back up, intensified by the taste going down my throat. UGH. And I still have to cook more of those! :(

Seems like Dettol’s going around my place a lot too. Love the antiseptic smell. That is all. :D I’m ranting, cause I’m tired, and I haven’t communicated with anyone much. And my fantasy world in my head is my companion so often nowadays.

Mac Mac!

So, I actually have several drafts of posts that I should be posting up but am procrastinating because the whole tedious process of uploading photos. But they will be awesome posts. :P Regardless, that’s not why I’ve the sudden urge to just drop a line now. (See title, and then shakes head.)


And it’s fun and it’s awesome, and I’m still taking baby steps, but WOOHOO BABY. And though it’s cliche, cause Esther called you that first, it has kinda stuck. So, Mac Mac you shall be, forever and ever and ever.. (I dearly dearly hope so.)

P/S: Though completely unrelated to the Mac, I still have the urge to mention the fact that my hair refuses to stay flat and coconut-like shaped. And has since developed a gap in between my forehead. LIKE CURTAINS I TELL YOU. I have started wearing a hairband pushing everything back and hoping some precious style will come of it.


This is all. Cause it’s fun to type on the new shining black keypads. And the screen is huge. And my eyes hurt. :D


True story: Many years ago, I couldn’t stand having long hair and wanted it short. For some reason, the hair stylist interpreted my hand waving as “Oh, really really short.” and I ended up having a hairstyle that had my Mum asking me, minutes later, “Are you my daughter?”

Then she laughed, and I had to take my IC looking weird, and had at least two people asking me, after looking at my IC, “Are you a boy?” Uh huh. A senior once patted my head and said it looked like a shrub, “So puffy!”

Uh huh. I never did cut my hair short since then.

Which explains why I never ever changed my hairstyle too, preferring to go to a good ol’ corner shop near my house. Except that one time in Semester One when I stayed back in INTEC for a debate competition and was desperate. Needless to say, I never went back to Anura. (I think that’s the name, couldn’t be bothered after.)

My usual hairstylist tutted at my hair after I came back from the competition, and thankfully ‘repaired’ it.

And this time, she asked, “What about a change?” I was all, heh, one and a half months before I go anywhere, so what the heck. Let’s give it a shot! (Note to self: NEVER EVER TRY TO BE ADVENTUROUS. IT’LL KILL YOUR HAIR. LET’S FORGET ABOUT EXTENSIONS OR DYE.)

So, she cut, and I stared, and I LAUGHED AT MYSELF.

Oh man. Oh boy. Oh my heck.

I wanted bangs, but not this type! And my family’s gonna take a family portrait next week and I look like.. Like…


She was all I could think about. The darling darling junior who likes to take random shots of herself everywhere, and is never seen without a comb or mirror. With bright smiles and an even brighter bubbly attitude. :D (FYI: I miss you!)

And yes, I think, whenever I look at me now, I think of you.


So, good or bad? The hairstylist was all, “It’s been a while since I cut your fringe!” And my Mum is all, “You look 12 again.” My Bro and Sis laughed at me outright. Latest fashion yeah.

Man, I want my big forehead bright as day back. Cause while I think Lemon looks absolutely adorable in this style, it is not for me. I just look weird while she looks cute. :(

(If you tell me to restyle, let me just say, I tried, and I looked bald. Hah.)


And with short hair? :D :D

Maybe not anytime soon.   >.<

The Haunting

I’m not one for reviews because I tend to ramble on, and I have no start, no middle and no end. I just know the kaleidoscope of emotions that swell up when reading a great book and I especially loved this book. The Thirteenth Tale.

Some stories haunt you, long after they’re written. They are stories with words that echo round and round in your head, never ceasing until you’ve opened them again, and reread them once more.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield is one of them. I haven’t been so entranced by the words of a book for a long time. Even when I sleep, scenes from the book reenact themselves in my head, and it is so wonderfully and cleverly crafted that I can even imagine how each and every one of this characters play themselves out. The way the author writes it is never too revealing, leaving space for the imagination, but not too bare that you can’t see her characters at all. Its an ability not many authors have, they’re either too telling, or too silent about it all.

That brings me to the characters that spark with such life they fly off the pages. They scream, they bite, and the words they speak can sometimes be as little as none, and yet, they make everything seem so vivid. Their desires and their wants can sometimes be transparent, or unknown. Especially that of the little girls. But that’s the whole idea I think To keep you guessing to the very end, the thoughts of the child. And when you find out how it plays out. Wham. Its an understanding that can change you.

The characters are broken things, made whole by interactions, by scenes that are full of mystery. Yes, mystery, the one fine thrum of excitement that winds itself in every page, making you turn the next more fervently than before. And when you finally find out the end, you’ll want to go back to read all that you’ve missed, and you’ll see how the author cleverly inserts those little nuggets of joy in words. They’re hidden in plain sight, and that makes it all the more exciting.

Of course, I thought the book was only full of purple prose in the beginning, due to the long words. But once I got past that I realize that it speaks all the more of the narrator herself. A fine woman brought up by books. I actually envied her past, and wanted more than anything to have had that chance to be where she had been. But I didn’t quite understand the connection between twins as the author writes it. Still, it was a beautiful read, and the end, despite it being too fantastical for me, was still a great end.

Every line caught my heart, but the best was the start.

All children mythologize their birth. It is a universal trait. You want to know someone? Heart, mind and soul? Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won’t be the truth: it will be a story. And nothing is more telling than a story.

Tales of Desperation and Change: Vida Winter.

those who don’t try, never look foolish

“I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those who help us most to grow
If we let them and we help them in return.”
Gregory Maguire (Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West)

I daresay it’ll be a while before the emptiness in my heart fully recedes.  I don’t know how to term it. It’s simply a hollowness inside that never quite goes away. A disappointment that has cut so deep, you’ve given up.

I hoped too much, wanted too much to be like every other girl. What is it to be normal? What is it like to be different? Does everyone see themselves like any other? Or do they keep comparing, keep wanting, each never satisfied, and each wallowing in self pity they never knew they had?

You never know what you haven’t got, until you have it. And when you realize it was all an illusion, all a lie. There doesn’t seem to be any return to the innocence you once had. You want to ask, is it fair to be pulled so far, only to realize, it was never meant for me in the first place.

It was only a tease.

And now, I don’t know the truth. I know the Greater Truth, but what it says I cannot understand. If I should understand, I wonder what it means. And when you keep getting different answers from different people, the confusion only increases. And you wonder, wonder, wonder, who you are doing right for.


“Approval is overrated…Approval and disapproval alike satisfy those who deliver it more than those who receive it. I don’t care for approval, and I don’t mind doing without.”
Gregory Maguire

And who’s to say what the real Truth is? Not until you’ve Heard.  And even then, there’s bound to be many questions, many doubts, many trials in between. And only Death can answer all your questions. Will it be too late then to know?

I don’t want to stop trying. But the emptiness has already eaten It inside out. I know now that it was all a beautiful lie. Perhaps not so much a lie but something you pretend is real. You believe so much to be happy, but its only the pretense that keeps you going.

You never were really happy. You made yourself, and believed it as you went along. Then the pretense crumbled, and you were hollow inside, all along.

“Cause getting your dreams
It’s strange, but it seems
A little — well — complicated
There’s a kind of a sort of : cost
There’s a couple of things get : lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn’t know you crossed
Until you’ve crossed.”
Gregory Maguire (Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West)