Some things I remember:

The weight of you in my arms. How you didn't like being carried. The coarse hair on your back and the softness behind your ears. Tufts of your fur lying in the corner. How I'd anticipate and cringe when the phone or doorbell rang because you'd bark. You nosing around the table during dinner or lunchtime. Sticky floors where you acted like our vacuum cleaner. Very soft and perfect paws. The look you get sometimes when you are alert and your ears prick up and you get very still.

Your weight in my arms.

***

It's that time of the year again. WORK. Plus the weather is becoming crazy hot. Yikes. Time to bring out the sunscreen. I want to be as pasty and sparkly as edward cullen.

But it was a good day with a serious man. Almost felt like another country haha. Mediterranean basement bench ! :)

My relatives came over and asked about her. I see floor space where she used to sleep. There's still half her food left in the container. Her eye medicine is abandoned in the refrigerator. It's as if time has stopped. I miss her I miss her I miss her. Sooks says that James Herriot's second beagle made it easier to get over the passing of his first dog. But I don't want to forget. A distraction would be nice but now that I'm older, I don't want to love another more than I love(d) her.

***

I grow much too attached to everything. There are receipts and ticket stubs that I keep. I kept thinking about going downstairs to retrieve my geography notes that my sister threw out. Every sliver of the past must be manifested in something tangible. Evidence landscape as memory. I part with things gingerly, nervously. Voracious hoarding.

Personally, I don't think it's a good excuse. But you how I am.. I will keep on loving you.

***

Somehow I managed to get Donald Faison's (Turk in Scrubs) autograph but for some reason he was really old and ugly in person. The scene changed to someone's hdb flat/apartment. I remembered my primary school friend Crystal being there. :/ There were a bunch of celebrities just lounging on the couch. Amongst them was Alan Rickman (who plays Snape in Harry Potter, omgah imdb tells me he's 64 !). For some odd reason, he also refused to have his picture taken with me. :/ (on another note, and I'm sure I've mentioned it before, Alan Rickman has one of the most recognisable voices ever. It's quite sexy too..)

Such a weird dream right ! Meow. In another one previously I dreamt that I finally found the Levi's 'I'm Awesome' shirt which in reality eludes me. Bah.

So I'm finally done with the Howard Tan story. Chose that name since Howard always jokes his second surname is Tan, haha. Thanks to my sister, gwei, db, nick and pops for letting me bounce ideas off them and providing very helpful suggestions. :) Still two more assignments so I'll be needing your services ! It's exhausting to write a story, guess I can't be an author..

Went for bible study on tuesday and I'm glad I did. :) Kenny from my e science class asked me to join the chamber choir. Hmmms... Oh and I was the 'last one standing' during the e science seminar yesterday ! HAHAHA NUS PWNS ALL OF YOUUUU. Was telling myself that I cannot let down the geog faculty haha. Almost answered the definition of pollution question wrongly though.. Thanks to Ray for the save !

On valentine's day I want to go to a pet shop and let puppies lick me. -Raj, The Big Bang Theory

Totally. Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them.

Borrowed Gaiman's American Gods and Johnathan Foer's Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Pops also lent me Dubliners by James Joyce. :S Hope I can digest it. How come the consensus (after violent arguing) is that DUCKS > RABBITS ? Rabbits !!!!!!! Rabbits win ducks HANDS DOWN. I love bunnies. :) I was reminded how handsome Christopher Plummer was in The Sound of Music. Swoon. Who is up for a screening ? :)

Hormones are back to normal. All is well again. Thanks to nick and db and yuklum for placating somewhat a very frazzled and psycho me. Am eager for mahjong and kbox and taking my cameras out ! And seriously, wii cycling has taken over my life.

A few days ago Kiki asked me about Clara and I cried as I replied her. She got back to me today and reading her reply is making me cry again.

When I was telling my father and sister about the dream I had with Clara inside, I cried.

***

Sometimes I wish no one read this so I could be more honest. Tired from crying and tired of crying. Fuck you hormones.

-Speechless, Lady Gaga

Loved her duet with Elton so I went to youtube the song and you know, it's good. :) Though her voice does get scratchy/screechy sometimes.

I'm slightly tempted to switch to tumblr because it's so easy to reblog pretty pictures and funny comics. But I've had crowdkiller for 5 years and I am a sentimental person..

Meow. Slightly worried. And wondering if I should skip the field trip tomorrow.

If things are left unanswered then that's pretty much the answer right ? Meow.

Oh I forgot to include that I had fun skyping aggie, or more like miming since she muted her computer. Hahah. And I had a freaking expensive supper with nick and gideon. Good conversation though. :)) Not including the part where I learnt what a ball guard is and how it prevents them from bouncing around when a guy cycles. Like wth, bouncing around ?! Eww. Nick is funny he said that one day I will talk about such stuff openly with my husband. Erm. Hmmm. Darling I'm going to get milk.. You want me to help you get one of those guards for your balls ? Hahah ! :x

Warning, super long read !

From http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/114087824.html

This rant was written because a nice girl finally snapped.

I’ve read the tribute to the nice guys; this is my response.

This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don’t give it up on the first date, who don’t want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren’t perfect and that the guys they’re interested in aren’t either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe… maybe this time he’ll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don’t deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the sea,” to “time heals all wounds.” This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.

This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it’s an experience that they don’t want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they’d rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn’t care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they’re too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.

This one’s for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won’t because it’s easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he’s just not ready, he’s just not over her, he’s just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it’s easier to believe that it’s not that they don’t want you, it’s that they don’t want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you’ve returned home alone, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he’s with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want a relationship: it was that he didn’t want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he’d realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.

This is for the “I really like you, so let’s still be friends” comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you’ve received from your female friends, for the nights they’ve reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you’d have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we’ve believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we’d have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don’t think that they deserve more, because they’ve been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.

This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don’t appreciate them and don’t want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call… and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you’d met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you’re not looking for a nice girl. You’re not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you’re looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.

So don’t say you’re on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won’t answer your catcalls, sometimes you’re looking at a nice girl in whore’s clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we’re all thinking the same thing: “This isn’t me. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I’ll have slept alone and I’ll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me.” You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don’t want the nice girl.. so don’t say you’re looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we’re willing to extend - - but in return, we’re looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they’re running they’re chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets… the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.

So maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we’re waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what’s a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)

Sometimes the nice girl gets sick of waiting.

It started with me trying on jema's dresses. She had a lot of pretty ones.. I think it was because I was wandering around serangoon near some private estate.

Then the scene changed and I think I found myself back at my old house. And then for the first time that I can remember, I dreamt of Clara. She was in her spot in the balcony and she looked so happy. I couldn't believe it. I was so happy. I went to hug her and I got out my camera to take pictures of her smiling. But the camera screen kept flickering, as if it was running out of battery. I surmised that it was because she was back from the dead. I even called my brother over and said do you see her, which he did. She looked healthy too..

I don't remember why but the scene changed and my parents and sister appeared. We were about to go somewhere altogether. And then my father remarked that maybe I should go to the SPCA if I wanted to because there was this very nice dog that we could adopt.

I don't know, it was a very strange dream. Surprising and in a span of a nap. It made me so happy and now it's making me sad. I don't know. :( But maybe it's a sign that she's happy where she is now...

Had another nightmare during my nap yesterday. Dreamt that I had a baby ! Ahhhhhhh omgah scary shizzle. It was odd because the baby was already a few months old and I remembered that no one could tell if it was a boy or girl. It was heavy too, I had to carry it everywhere. :/ I kept thinking nooooo I'm only 22, I'm too young for this ! :S I don't even like babies all that much ! I like puppies ! How do I end up with such dreams man..

Start of rant. (You may choose to skip to end of rant...) You know, it all boils down to priorities. Why is it that I am always the one saying let's have dinner or let's go out ? I'm sure you don't disagree that when we go out, we have a good time. Plus I believe that to cultivate anything with anyone, you need to spend time in each other's company. Virtual but also physical. Maybe there's some bio explanation also, I don't know. But it's tiring to be the one doing all the work. It seems as if you've taken it for granted. I get annoyed you know. I resolve to go cold turkey and test how long it takes before you make any effort. But always I cave in. Probably because you're too important to forgo. Also because I am impatient by nature and inaction irks me sometimes. But yes I get it. You have other priorities. You have a bajillion friends and commitments that consume your every conscious thought. Oh sorry for being such a pathetic loser because I didn't go for orientation and I don't have 'besties' whom I go to school for.

You know, the argument is that I don't exactly need close uni friends or new people in my life because I have sufficient good ol' ones around me. But see how my argument is weakened exponentially by the fact that these swell people make up the 'you' in the above paragraph.

Don't get me wrong. I'm guilty of not caring enough for some of my friends. I always feel bad to turn down gideon or jianqi. And I'm blessed with amazing friends like aggie and db. :)

We talk about big plans, the future. How we will still meet for ice cream and desserts. How are children will play with each other and stuff. But we need to make things work in the now for there to be a future right ? Not just bank on shared history and lofty ideals. Not meeting just because someone from australia is spending two weeks here. How ironic it is that the singapore charter hardly meet. Sigh. This rant extends beyond pten to include stalkers but I'm sure most people can relate to my point.

I choose to believe that when people want or appreciate something enough, they make time and effort for it. Anyway, my point is that times change and priorities change. Or maybe they don't. At the end of the day ours just don't happen to match. Blah dee blah. People don't change, the cycle continues, expect a similar tirade in future.

Sentimental, emotional and overly so.

End of rant. No idea why I'm being so angsty. Surely a sign of PMS. Ayes, I wish I had Clara to hug and play with. I hate using stupid past tense, it doesn't feel right at all.

In other news, end of school week ! Not that I went for half my classes. Hey, but being sick to the point of sleeplessness is no fun ! Still need to go back on friday to consult a prof though. I could never get angry with Robert. How can one be mad at an old man !

Apparently Fall Out Boy has disbanded. I went through a career guide and didn't really see anything appealing. Turns out that my angsty rant kept me occupied for most of the night so haven't bought anything on impulse online, yay ! Apricot body wash makes one smell yummy.