:)

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Once upon a time, there was a little girl.

One day, on the way to school, she came across a beautiful little pebble. It was white, smooth and pristine. Excited by her find, she picked it up and put it in her pocket. Just then, an idea came to her. She would collect a whole bottle full of such handsome pebbles, and give them to her future lover when they met.

From then on, every time she happened to find a pebble worthy of her collection, she would keep it in her very own bottle.

Time went on, and as the girl grew up, so did her collection. She smiled proudly whenever her bottle got heavier, confident in the knowledge that when he came - whoever he may be - he would love this gift.

One day during her teenage years, she found her friend crying. "What's wrong?" she asked. Her friend pointed on the ground. There were tiny beads strewn helter-skelter and several pieces of smashed glass - the remains of her friend's prized collection. "He broke up with me and threw my bottle on the ground. He said he hates my collection." She began to sob again.

The girl did her best, but her friend was inconsolable. So she opened her bottle, and fished out a pretty azure pebble - one of her favourites. "You can have this." Her friend was very touched, and her tears finally stopped.

That day, the girl realised that love comes in many kinds. From then on, she kept another bottle just for her family and friends.

Years went by, and soon, the girl could no longer find a bigger bottle for her lover's collection. Looking at the big bottle, filled to the brim with all the pretty pebbles she had found throughout the years, she suddenly felt sad. Perhaps he was never coming, and then what would she do with all these pebbles? A gift is not a gift until it is given to someone who truly cherishes it. And so, she began to paint the pebbles and transfer them to the "family and friends" bottle, to be given out as personalised gifts on special and sad days.

Still more time went by. Sometimes, there would come along a boy who stirred the girl's heart, and she would shyly present him her bottle. But each boy would smile and say, "Thanks, but sorry, it's not for me", and return it.

After each setback, the discouraged girl would not contribute to the lover's bottle for some time.

At the cusp of adulthood, the girl met a boy. The boy smiled at her shyly, and presented her with his collection of exotic candies. The girl was overjoyed. Finally, a boy had deemed her worthy of his own collection. So she kept it. But one day, she decided to open it up and try one candy. It was extremely sour, but at the very end, just as she was about to spit it out, there was a burst of sweetness. She did not like it. The girl was disappointed with herself, and confused. Would she ever know how to appreciate these exotic candies? If not, was she the right owner for his bottle? After many hours of consideration, she  took the bottle to the boy. Sadly, she said, "Thanks, but sorry, it's not for me", and returned it.

Around her, friends had spats with their lovers, parted and reunited. Some stayed together, but others had their own precious bottles smashed in front of them. The girl began to fear love, and question its worth.

Her own lover's bottle began to gather dust as the girl grew sad and disillusioned. Her friends and family comforted her. "He will come", they said with a nod and a smile. They were confident. She wasn't - not anymore.

Still, life goes on, so she turned her attentions to growing her friends and family collection. It was very rewarding, seeing the smiles on their faces whenever they received a pretty painted pebble, and unpainted ones too. It was a different kind of love, she knew, one that sometimes cracked the bottle but would never end with it getting smashed in front of her. And the best part was, she would always receive all kinds of gifts from each friend and family member's very own special collection. It kept her happy, widened her horizons, made her realise many important things.

But despite her best efforts, a part of her still yearned for his arrival, and she was convinced that she would not experience complete happiness until then. Occasionally, she would drop a new pebble into the dusty bottle. Whenever she felt discouraged with the long wait, she would take a pebble from the dusty bottle, paint it, and drop it into the other bottle.

With the passing of each decade, on her 20th, 30th, birthday, her loved ones would tell the forlorn girl, "He will come. Just a while longer."

After her 40th birthday, it became "You have us."

In the blink of an eye, it was time for the girl, now an old lady of seventy, to move into a home for senior citizens. Her oldest friend, the one who had received that pretty azure pebble all those years ago, came by her home to help pack her belongings.

In a forgotten part of the house, her old friend made a surprising discovery. There on the shelf and covered in dust was



She clasped the bottle in her hands, and silently cried for this silly, silly girl who had waited all her life for someone who never came.

*Update: Click here to read Part II.

Labels: egomaniac

L'avion s'arrete dans la s'ecurite' au sol de comparaison,

mais l'avion est mouche de ne'cessite' le ciel

(飛機停在地面比較安全 但飛機就該飛上天)

Labels: notes to self

Last week I made a happy new discovery in Daiso: this paper book jacket.

The texture looks leathery but it's actually just paper.

So...say you have a book with a slightly embarrassing title, like this one Cheryl got for me last Christmas:

You can obscure the title with this book jacket, so no one can judge you. It can also protect the book since I'm too lazy to wrap it, and besides, plastic is non-biodegradable. It's dual purpose!

All wrapped up

You can hook it this way when reading the book.

There's even a piece of ribbon for you to use as a bookmark. The Japanese are so thoughtful!

I was really excited by this find. According to my singles survival guide (一个人又怎样), it's good to have an interest in even the small things in life (i.e cheap thrills). =D

The Portkey was the mighty concealer, and the foundation, Floo powder (as a Muggle, should it come as a surprise that I need three different types of magic to teleport?).

It was every bit as uncomfortable as Rowling described.

The trip lasted about 45 minutes. An eternity was taken to do my eyes, and throughout that procedure I wanted to tear because the staff was poking a little too hard and I did not dare say a thing, petrified as I was of being at such embarrassingly close proximity with a stranger (I suddenly realised how laughably impossible it would be to have a one-night stand, given this trait of mine. Drat it all.). And speaking of embarrassing, I think it quickly became obvious what a newbie I was to all this. Sadly, I carry no fewer than all my 23 years on my face, so there is little chance that they would think me too young to be exposed to this world. And so I squirmed, gritted my teeth and tried not to fidget through it all. My comrade XY waited patiently at my side, a comforting reminder that it would all end at some point.

I stared with great curiosity the myriad of tools the staff was using on my face, like a child studying with sick fascination the surgical apparatus at the dentists'. "Why" was a question that popped up in my mind with all the intensity of popcorn from the corn popper (repeat this sentence quickly three times). "Why would anyone bother" was another.

O my pals who are mighty wielders of makeup, you have my admiration.

When all had been said and done, I approached the mirror with a pounding heart. In it I found a transvestite clown (no use mincing our words, now). Let's put it this way - I think I may be one of those people who actually looks worse with makeup on than without. Perhaps things would be very different if it were a more toned-down affair, but I will hold on to this conclusion until such time as I am convinced otherwise.

My dear pals did somewhat achieve their commendable goal of getting me to take the first step towards accepting makeup by buying me this service, though. I stepped away from it all knowing that shimmery eyeshadow is my Avada Kedavra. And after this slightly traumatic experience, I think I will never make the mistake of applying too-thick makeup. =D At least, not intentionally.

Also, as I wiped away the mask from the safety of my home, all the imperfections on my face resurfaced. Rather, it would be more accurate to say they jumped out and said "boo!". Having them all covered up for a few hours somehow made them seem all the more obvious once the magical effects of the concealer were neutralised. Humph. This is exactly what I am talking about when I say makeup is a river of no return. My point is, yes, I am now marginally more accepting towards concealer and all those other bare essentials. At some point in the future I will find some way of applying all these within 5 minutes (to meet my aim of getting ready at light speed every morning), just to fit in with the superficial expectations of modern society when I tire of my lifelong resistance (as for the looking better part, I'm sure I'll come round to it when I feel a lot more comfortable with a mask on).

But there will be no shimmery eyeshadow.

Never again.

I'm now the proud new owner of a Samsung Galaxy S android smartphone! :) :) :)

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“在这个城市里，一定有人少了骨瓷，也一定有人多了骨瓷。一定有人多了沙发，也一定有人少了沙发。只是，还没找到彼此而已。
这就是城市。这就是城市日复一日的故事。”

Just finished watching Taipei Exchanges (第36个故事). It's about a cafe full of quirky and random stuff that aren't for sale -  you can only give the owners something in exchange for it. Some chose to tell their stories to trade for the items that they wanted, thus the Mandarin title.

The movie inspired me, and reeled up a smile from the bottom of heart, the kind that makes your eyes crinkle. It reminded me of Taipei's 东区, where everything is as quaint and pretty and feel-good, even when drenched in rain or sprinkled with a light drizzle. It's like the slow, fleeting moment of ecstasy when you have a spoonful of some truly heavenly dessert that slides down to your tummy and sends up warm fuzzy sensations. It's right up there with Candy Rain. Love Taiwanese films. :)

Also, I found myself strangely drawn to the very comforting theme song. I never used to like such alternative tunes.

Labels: notes to self

Attire for last Saturday. =D

If a trait can be traced down to a set of DNA codes, then is there a gene that compels me to like songs with a specific chord or characteristic? If so, my gene should be named 田馥甄, because I can think of no other reason why I am enthralled by 80% of the songs in such a diverse album.

Sweeping statements, check. Leaps of logic to support ridiculous belief that this is "meant to be", check.

Yep, I'm in love.

Compulsion of surrounding people to roll their eyes and/or throw up at the above, check. ;p

If I were less insecure, would I still put in as much effort for my relationships?
If I were more confident, would I still be as approachable?
If I changed, would I still be the same - only more awesome?

Let's find out. :) I'm counting on you all to stop me from 走火入魔-ing.

Is there a better alternative to Blu-Tack? My idols keep swooping down to kiss me in the middle of the night.

*Update

Ah Joy: just let hebe kiss you lah.

Me: HAHAHA good one but! It's a bit sad to give away my first lesbian kiss to a poster.

Last Thursday, KC, Bee and I met up for dinner, and we got talking about cheesy pickup lines.

KC threw us one:

“我觉得你爸爸妈妈是贼.” (Your parents must be thieves.)

Bee immediately rolled her eyes and said it would never work on her. I said something to the same effect, thinking that the next line should be something to do with stealing one's heart.

But no! The next line is:

“因为他们偷了满天的星星，放进你的眼睛.” (They stole all the stars and put them in your eyes.)

I actually felt a surge of warmth in my heart! Probably because I've never heard this one before. Oh no I am so lame.

Here: take a listen, if you will, to 田馥甄's album - To Hebe.

1. Love?
   I prefer this version to Love!, cos it's a softer approach. The lyrics are simple but really thought-provoking.
   
2. To Hebe
   Really like the playful and cute melody, and the very encouraging chorus (我们应该　阻止世界变坏). It's almost childlike in its naivety. I wish I could understand the rest of the lyrics though. Put me on the same frequency as (lyricist, songwriter, singer) Sandee Chan, please!
   
3. 离岛
   Really sounds like one of those songs you would strum a guitar and sing along by the fire, at the seaside. 我爱的人爱我就好 - and indeed, what more should one ask for in life?
   
4. 没有管理员的公寓
   Sounds like a good soundtrack for lazy rainy afternoons when you just want to float around the house.
   
5. 我对不起我
   Emo. Whenever there's a cello or violin involved, a song is that much more likely to steal my heart. 林夕 penned the lyrics, and it shows - there are quite a few lines which evoked exclamation marks in my heart. 爱不能伤害我　还是我没爱过.
   
6. 我想我不会爱你
   The first 48 seconds made me feel - its melody a temptress lulling my eyes to close, to shut out other senses so that there is only it, inviting my soul to taste the notes and my heart to dance along. Too bad it didn't last throughout the whole song. I foresee many revisits, though.
   
7. 寂寞寂寞就好
   One of the more mainstream songs.
   
8. 你太猖狂
   A post-breakup healing song that I have yet to grasp. I wish I knew what 猖狂 means.
   
9. 超级玛丽
   The intro made me go "oh no." And, indeed, the style isn't really my thing. The hilarious and cute lyrics made me LOL though. 玛丽 is an ant who's in love with a cat across the road. This could be a children's book.
   
10. 给小孩
    Duet with Yoga Lin. Wah it's like some children's charity theme song. Quite random.
    
11. Love!
    See #1. The drum beats don't agree with me. 

I find myself touched by the hard work and sincerity of the artistes and crew when I watch concerts as a non-fan.

Elva's live rendition of 地下铁 really transported me back 8 years to the first time I watched the movie - at the cinema. It's still one of my favourite films of all time, and I remembered why I love it so much. Just a little sad that 8 years on, my wait hasn't ended. When I'm rational, I tell myself that I shouldn't be waiting, that singlehood has a truckload of benefits, but I know that deep down I'm just trying to be content with singlehood and my marriage to friendship - while waiting. At times my impatience is so strong that I'm screaming in my heart, "When are you going to appear?! I've waited so, so long!! I want you to come into my life right now!"

I know many others have waited much much longer than me, and are much more patient to boot. So I calm down and remind myself to feel blessed by what I already have - which is half the universe of what some can only hope for.

"下一站的出口 你 等着 我."

is to become as awesome as Tallulah Bankhead, an American actress who said the darndest things.

According to Wikipedia:

Once, at a party, one of her friends brought along a young man who boldly told Bankhead that he wanted to make love to her that night. "You know, I really want to f*** you.". She replied, "And so you shall, you old-fashioned boy."

Source: BeeJ22, Facebook Fails of Iconic Fictional Characters | Cracked.com

When words or movies make me feel, I get this sensation coursing through my veins, something approaching an ache but doesn't actually hurt. Like someone rode a horse right to the edge of a cliff (ache) and then pulled the reins at the very last minute. And then if it's a book, I run my fingers across the words because I feel so close to them, to the characters they've ganged up to illustrate, to weave the feelings of said characters.Sometimes I'm even there with them, feeling the same breeze tickling their faces, seeing the last rays of sunset carelessly and liberally strewn across the room and their faces...transported.

When music makes me feel, I close my eyes and let the notes, the voice, the lyrics wash over me and play tricks on my heartbeat. Sometimes there is also this heady rush, the kind I get after a glass or two of wine. It's so similar that I actually do imagine I can smell the alcohol. I marvel at the words they whisper in my ear (it's always about the words), at the vivid scenes or strong emotions they paint, at the apt choice of each word, at the awe-inspiring arrangement of the notes and how beautiful they all sound together.

When people make me feel, I try to record every moment, word, feeling so I can construct a powerful enough memory for safekeeping and reliving. I like cards and smses and letters and emails and videos because then I can keep re-reading and re-watching them and they won't ever go away - they're concrete evidence of love, or at least love at the moment when those words were born. Memories and feelings fade, but are (sadly) more addictive because they can only stay for a while.

That's why I have to constantly feed my addiction to feel.

Say goodbye to my blog mascot the hand-drawn (or rather, mouse-drawn) chicken and my virtual pet Pengie, and embrace my new skin. :) What significance does this new template have? *shrugs* Who knows what's in store at the next moment, and why stop to guess? Life, in all its spontaneity and exuberance, awaits. :)

To new beginnings.