Can't touch me!

HOORAYWERABHGHJSTRJFGHNSFDGADF!!!!!! I GOT MY KEIRA KNIGHTLY AUTOGRAPHED PHOTOGRAPH IN THE MAIL TODAY!!!!!!! AND IT'S A REAL SIGNATURE, NOT AN AUTOPEN OR PREPRINT!!!!! And I was seriously expecting to wait for a year at least, but I got it in 2 months! Yay! My first proper Hollywood celebrity autograph! I also got some really nice English stamps, and a very very impersonal note printed onto the paper informing me that "Ms Knightly is very busy and can't personally reply to all her fan mail" (not verbatim because - SHIT! I lost the paper). My deepest gut feeling also tells me that "Ms Knightley is very busy and can't personally sign all her autographs, so this is her assistant Mimi signing on her behalf while her other assistant Candice slots the autographed photographs from a stack on a table into all the very thoughtful Self-adressed stamped envelopes you kind fans have included. Thank you and please continue to support Ms Knightly, I believe Pirates of the Carribean 3 will be playing in your nearest crummy cinema next year. Or whatever."

Thanks Mimi, and thanks Candice (like, I totally hope those paper cuts heal soon! - LOL :p) Of course, I'm very appreciative and excited and happy and shall pretend Ms Knightley personally signed it. All is well in Lala land.

My next target is a very sexy scissor-handed male. Who in the what now?? Not elaborating, not elaborating, because I don't want to jinx it and because my gut feeling tells me that if I do write to this particular celebrity, the reply will take oh, I don't know... 5 years?

P.S: I really, really, want a pair of peep-toe pumps. Either in blue or canary yellow, with the heels at least 3 inches high and moderately thick, not the spindly, stiletto kind.

P.S.S:I know my feet will never forgive me. They hate me enough as it is.

Labels: Autograph Collecting, Hollywood, Keira Knightley

Currently, I'm a faithful follower of three TV series - Lost, The O.C and Veronica Mars. I can never say a bad word against Lost, frustrating and contrived (at times) though it may be - it's hooked its long (polar bear) claws deep into me. I'm lost, I admit, in its clutches.

The O.C is making my shit radar go off full time. This show is getting really shitty, and I'm getting intensely annoyed and on the verge of quitting - the only thing that makes me stick to it is the fact that I've been following it since, oh, forever. And I have a huge feeling it's going to be cancelled at the end of season 3, so I'm just going to watch its dying days with a grim countenance, the way you watch your once favourite blimp catch fire and crash into a hydrogen processing plant. Or something.

Veronica Mars, on the other hand, is a superbly refreshing show that I've only recently started watching and I must say, I'm impressed! I actually like the main character (unlike *coughmarissacoopercough*) and I thought the Pilot was one of the best I've ever seen. Highly recommended. If you're sick of prissy, self-indulgent, self-pitying, whiny, whinging theatrics, watch Veronica Mars. Otherwise I will continue with said theatrics - oh..oh. You thought I was talking about Marissa/Mischa, huh? Well, that too. She's a teeny little bit annoying, no?

Labels: Lost, The O.C, TV Shows, Veronica Mars

Ah, good 'ol USA, big brother of the world. In a strange fit of boredom, I decided to give myself a lesson in US geography - now, I can proudly say that I can recite all 50 states (though not necessarily in alphabetical order) and place them on a map. Although, what for, I cannot say. Some of the state mottos are funny. They crack me up.

Alaska - North! To Alaska
Alaska's is really cute, a bit on the gung-ho side.

Colorado - Colourful Colorado
Don't be lazy, Colorado. Is this the best you can do?

Georgia - Georgia on my Mind
This one cracked me up

Illinois - A million miles from Monday
Shit, no kidding. What do Illinoians do on Mondays?

North Carolina - A better place to be
Better than what? Is North Carolina really... heaven??

New York - I Love New York
Oh, you can't beat New York. I love this.

Labels: USA

Oh, Fiona Apple, you soothe my senses so. She's got a chocolatey-rich voice dipped in honey.

I need chocolate.

Labels: Fiona Apple, Music

One of the worst days I've ever had. Thank goodness it's over, but with worse days to look forward to.

We got back our Chemistry SACs today. I was one of the few who got a high instead of a very high. Instantly, when I saw my grade, I felt like exploding into tears. The Chemistry SAC was the rotten cherry to top my rotten day.

But my voice of reason, my cruel, cruel, but much needed voice of reason looked at my quivering esteem askance and said, "Ooooh, so you got a high instead of a very high. CRY ME A F**KING RIVER."

My clever, cool-cat, slighty mean voice of reason brings me back down to earth. With horror, absolute horror, I realise I place too much worth on the results I get. No doubt a combination of my upbringing in the Singapore education system as well as too little interests besides Hollywood gossip/ 90s music. So yes, voice of reason, I'll cry you a river. I'll cry you a f**cking river.

Labels: School

"I wish my grass was emo, so it'll cut itself."

That was my cousin's MSN nickname. Delicious! It's bitchy and it's mean and it's dismissive of the whole emo movement and it's absolutely hilarious. And I LOVE it.

Gosh, the librarian at the school library today was a complete _______. Refused to let me borrow a Figes book which I am desperately, hopelessly in need of. IT'S URGENT, Ms 'You already have two books on Revolutions out, I can't let you borrow any more."

Well in the end I managed to worm my way into an 'overnight, return before school' starts loan.

All the fibbing in the world for Figes?! Is it worth it? The strange bespectacled earnest British revisionist historian with the funny voice and white pasty skin?

Turns out that I don't know, because although I have less than 12 hours to use it, I haven't started. Maybe I should have gone with a Richard Pipes book instead.

Labels: History, School

Before I say anything else, much love to Jill. I still have the card you gave me at the airport tacked on the notice board above my desk.

I was stressed out about losing my yearly student ticket and concession card, over the Human Writes Essay, over my Revs SAC, over my Chem SAC, and the recurring issue of friends - people I sit with, talk with, laugh with but have such a hellish time being completely relaxed and comfortable around. I just can't drape myself over someone's lap, or tug at someone's hair, or grab someone's neck from behind, or pull someone up or play with people's fingers, the way really close friends do. I feel like a completely stiff, over-polite person. It's a well known (and sometimes bemoaned) fact that the closer you get to someone, the ruder and meaner you can be to them. Perhaps those aren't the right terms - for sure you become more affectionate and can afford to do a bit more name calling and tugging and shoving and horsing around. That's what I mean. That's exactly what I mean.

I'm still at the smiling, nodding polite stage even though I've known them for more than a year now. It pains me, I don't know what to do. Do I suddenly start getting all touchy-feely the way they are with each other? I actually think that will freak them out.

After school today, I went with Leanne, Triya and Sherry to get coffee and cake at Gloria Jeans. We had a great time - the conversation was flowing and enjoyable and I actually had some genuine laughs, not the typical uncomprehending smile and forced laughter I tend to go into when people share a private joke and I've only heard the second half and I don't understand but by golly, if I don't laugh along I'll be seen as a humourless, over-serious person. You know that kind of laughter- it strains you rather than give you emotional release, depresses you rather than uplifts you. Makes you feel fake when you want to be real. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Leanne said to me, "I've noticed that you're quiet in our big group."

I paused for a while, a bit hurt. Then I felt stupid for feeling hurt. I said, carefully, "You're right. I wish I'm not like that, but I just don't know what to do."

She didn't give a direct answer. She probably wouldn't have been able to. She's secure in her position, completely comfortable. I don't have that luxury. It's my fault I didn't try harder, I suppose, but some things come naturally to people and some things just don't.

Labels: Friends, School

I think gymbo has got a new tattoo.

I had a nice long chat with Evelyn and Cheryl on MSN last night; consequently I went to bed at about 2am and snoozed all the way to 10 in the morning, thus fulfilling the minimum 8 hour sleep requirement experts recommend. Feeling like a fat ass after Big Night bINge, I decided to head to the gym and oh boy, who did I have to see?

Actually, I don't know if it was Phil. (Ok gymbo, I'm outing your identity!! So there!) Same build, same way of dressing, including those fingerless gloves which are actually starting to really grate on me with their act-coolness. Same hair. Same pattern of only doing weights and not cardio (I hope his heart suffers for it. Karma's a bitch, Phil!) I avoided looking at his face, so it could have been his fratenal twin or his best friend who looks remarkably like him. I don't know. I don't want to know. I'm trying to get over this, but he is not helping with his 'not-there-when-you-want-him-to-be-and-there-when-you-least-expect-it-ness'.

Please leave and never come back, I kept whispering to myself in my brain. And finally, after about half-an-hour, he did. I was both happy and sad and relieved and exhilarated and devastated.

I got back up to my apartment and to get my mind of things, sis and I popped down to Chapel Street for a movie and some shopping. I had a great time. She's the Man isn't the most intellectual movie out there but it's so much fun, and Amanda Bynes is so impossible to dislike; I absolutely adore her. Bought two tops and a belt. I feel really guilty because I spent more than a hundred bucks today, and to top it off I hardly did any work. Still, it was a good day and I think I've finally broken into my boots, just in time as the weather's starting to get much colder. Luckily the break-in process wasn't all that bad - Lord knows that I don't break into my shoes; they break me. Cue blisters, corns and calluses; scraped heels and aching arches. Suffer the feet to be pretty! In both senses of the word.

Labels: Boys, Movies, Shoes, Shopping

Last night, my school had our annual Year 12 Big Night In. The only reason I decided to go was, naturally, because all my friends were going and I didn't want to be left out. Plus there was going to be free food. And lollies. And chocolate. And junk food. My day to get fat, after weeks of 'vegetarianism' (I blew it by eating a barbequed sausage) and intense exercising. I just needed to get away from Gymbo - the gym-going bully in black who hurts people's feelings and breaks their hearts. Ok ok, I PROMISE I will stop talking about that. Or at least try.

I actually had a pretty good time - as good a time as you can have when worrying about whether the dance-off will either expose you as a) a frightfully bad dancer, jerking and cheriupping like a chicken in a mixer or b) a frigid, stiff-postured, flush-faced, unsporting hand-clapping old goat. (It was option b, by the way)

Anyway, the entertainment was good, the food was so bad it was good, the formal video was excellent (though it gave me pangs to see that I was only in one pathetic little scene at the beginning and was nowhere near as stunning as most of the other girls), the movie was good though tad overused (I think I've had enough of seeing ol' Vince and ol' Owen slime their way into the panties of wedding-attending single women) but the actual business of sleeping was oh so horrible. The mats we were given were so hard we might as well have dozed off on the gym floor, and as a consequence of my last minute packing I was rewarded with no pillow.

Labels: School

I was randomly surfing people's blogs and came across this:

"If anything you should parade your ugliness and put it openly on display just to piss others off. Nothing irks ppl more than an ugly person with high self-esteem."

Beautifully said. I adore it.

Labels: Beauty

If any of you have noticed, I've stopped updating for a bit immediately after the er, incident. I'm afraid love (or more accurately infatuation/ limerence) really clouds my ability to do meaningful, productive things. And though I have decided firmly to move on, I have to blog about another 'incident' that occurred on the tram on the way back from school. I was along Collins street, at the King Street stop and I saw... him. Well, it's more probable that it was someone that looked like him. That person had his back to me, but as he turned around, our eyes met and the most incredible thing happened.

I felt as if I was staring into the eyes of a (proverbial) deer blinded by the headlights of a car. I cannot safely say for sure that I knew this person, but in that split second I had to marvel at that volatile mixture of familiarity, uncertainty, confusion and overweening sense of accident. All that in a split second. Meeting a stranger's gaze can be such an unsettling thing. Eyes being the windows of the soul and all that. Such an unsettling thing. But so incredible isn't it? I would go on about some profound thing about humanity and all that, but unfortunately I lack the capacity to express myself and do justice to that confusing, sizzling, synpasing, tumbling mess of thoughts in me head. I guess I can only be content to just be able to feel that I know what I'm talking about. And if that was an acceptable thing, everyone would get full marks for everything, because everyone knows how to feel, but not necessarily how to say.

The intensity of this, this limerence, is shocking. It's left my mind spinning. Do I miss my gym hunk? Yes, yes, I do. Does it affect my schoolwork? Not really, I had to push myself hard not to let it. Did it affect my esteem? More than he could ever know. Does it push my self-worth up or down? Down, down, down the drain. Does he know I know about Blondie? No. Does he know I know about his drinking habits? YES, BECAUSE HE SAID HE BURNT HIS HAND WHEN HE TRIED COOKING WHILE DRUNK. IDIOT.

Labels: Boys