for CNY if i have been good, i will treat myself to one of her cds. and when my hair grows longer, some of those romantic bangs.

the only good thing about alfie, was sienna millar's bridgette bardot's gorgeousness. jude law has been dethroned from the cinematic pedestal, temporarily, until i re-judge him on closer when i've watched it. the fault is not his but the movie. it wasn't that bad, but it should have been good. sienna miller - i want such hair and dark eyes. and the floppy hat, and the champagne pink skirt with the boots, everything with a dash of wild abandon and earnest, girlishness. closer,
maybe next week. oh natalie, natalie.

and so i was inspired and so i listened again, twas the night before, to francoise hardy. and truly, it was a make-belief indulgence in and imagined time of pretending i was one of them 70s flower child soaking in reverie. it's like how d. coupland described it in his book polaroids from the dead. that was never my time but i like to pretend i was there.

bren and me. we had tea. we tried on hats. gasp, i hope they bring in the whole collection of topshop, i saw so many pretty nice tops it's insane. and i got me an annie hall hippie-ish sleeveless blouse in pretty print. it is so understated ooh-lala me thinks and so romantic. and i received your letter bren today; i will write back in a nice letter-pad with cherabims that i found in my room. got to write out my seven apertures. eh eh trumpeter, i see you tomorrow.

some roundhouse kicks and uppercuts last night with siew jie. first session of kickbox of the year but it wasn't so vigorous, which was good cos i was a little breathless running to the stadium gym from home in fifteen minutes. last night, no sleep, no bath, so ewww but i camouflaged with clinique happy. i loved the discussion and presentations today, some indulgent thinking time, L with her wonderfully whimsical periphery installation. gained me some time to think out my apertures, which is essential to me. sleepy as a babe.

Love is shining through
In everything you do
Honey in a heartbeat
And something in your eyes
Has got me hypnotized
In a heartbeat
And near or far
I try to be where you are
In a heartbeat

in a heartbeat - koop

i miss you so, i could cry, been only a few days gone by.

good run yesterday, forty-five minutes with music is a necessity. i cannot run without music anymore. seven apertures...this brain-teasing activity is squeezing me tight.

"between the idea
and the reality
between the motion
and the act
falls the shadow"

- T.S. Eliot

my faye-wong-flush across the cheek is gone and i'm left with being browner. so long for my aim on achieving snow white porcelain fairness. seven apertures....seven apertures. it's a lazy tuesday. had a pear, pistachos from dubai and green tea. i'm itching very much to shop, but that will be a very bad thing to do. i have apertures to take care of...think woman! missed last week's elective lecture/am peeved/but they said all lectures were cancelled/arghs i even got myself a new notebook with glistening white pages waiting to be filled/...seven apertures.

choy-o-mine, you are so faraway, on the other side of the island, that's too faraway for me to handle.

so then, another cup of green tea to curb my dramaticised love woes.

i'm toastier!

two hours of cycling. i was ryan doing the stand-on-the-bike whizz on the jetty. and, i met the coolest girl in PL at the beach. she was cool to the bone and funky to a fault! and also, Mister Choy, never will i get bored of you. you make me laugh till i do a wind-change-face-fixed do and my gum it owws. haha. i love you from the bottom of my pencil case.

Candles by S. Plath

They are the last romantics, these candles:
Upside-down hearts of light tipping wax fingers,
And the fingers, taken in by their own haloes,
Grown milky, almost clear, like the bodies of saints.
It is touching, the way they'll ignore

A whole family of prominent objects
Simply to plumb the deeps of an eye
In its hollow of shadows, its fringe of reeds,
And the owner past thirty, no beauty at all.
Daylight would be more judicious,

Giving everybody a fair hearing.
They should have gone out with the balloon flights and the stereopticon.
This is no time for the private point of view.
When I light them, my nostrils prickle.
Their pale, tentative yellows

Drag up false, Edwardian sentiments,
And I remember my maternal grandmother from Vienna.
As a schoolgirl she gave roses to Franz Josef.
The burghers sweated and wept. The children wore white.
And my grandfather moped in the Tyrol,

Imagining himself a headwaiter in America,
Floating in a high-church hush
Among ice buckets, frosty napkins.
These little globes of light are sweet as pears.
Kindly with invalids and mawkish women,

They mollify the bald moon.
Nun-souled, they burn heavenward and never marry.
The eyes of the child I nurse are scarcely open.
In twenty years I shall be retrograde
As these drafty ephemerids.

I watch their spilt tears cloud and dull to pearls.
How shall I tell anything at all
To this infant still in a birth-drowse?
Tonight, like a shawl, the mild light enfolds her,
The shadows stoop over the guests at a christening.

mollify! nun-souled!

right. enough of unrespectable letting-go. it's a melt forthnight for me from tomorrow hence.i really want to run from yishun to bishan park, bask in the nostalgic route of my favourite fourteen years of running around upper thomson, discovering a million different routes in a million runs. how beautiful are the feet of those who daily plod and who weekly push through thirty laps of the froggie, emerging from the transparent waters with shiny shoulders oh that airy hymn from yesteryears of my adolsecence it swims around in my head with random suddenness. i plagued my beloved family with my aria version, the voice pierceing through high and lofty clouds in the chambers and cloisters in my mental faculties. i thought i was one of them singing angels. we tend to think this way before we realise judgment shoots us from the swinging perch. in all aspects. we must continue to live in playgrounds. jump from the swing to the seasaw - don't step on the ground there are crocodiles; swing to the clouds and fling your slippers far; bury the dead turtle at the corner in the sand; also, swing standing up and lie on the sea saw reading, at the slanted angle and read the clouds sometimes.

how do you do these with them rubberised playgrounds? there are no plank swings, no sand, no sea saws. how do people grow up without sea saws i don't understand. and merry-go-rounds. those were quite a treat if you found them.

Umberto Eco: The Name of the Rose. You are a
mystery novel dealing with theology, especially
with catholic vs liberal issues. You search
wisdom and knowledge endlessly, feeling that
learning is essential in life.


Which literature classic are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

it's youuuu and me, always, and forever!

holland v with sharon, caiying and wyn. wala wala just stayed for three songs then went to have supper at holland v. then came a call from the knight in shining armor, he arrived in a taxi and i held his hand all the way home.

tomorrow knight, i will see you.

he really is quite my rhett.

i recall stumbling upon the thick nicely worn 'gone with the wind' in the school library in sec. 3 or 4. i really had quite a bit of fun with all the southern drawling going on in my head.

i rave about hippie chic, but i'm not a hippie to the strict sense of the word. it's like how you romantically construct your version of things around you, i'm in love with the notions of it.

quite irked in a non-important way. i don't know enough words! it's like food somewhat, i need constant vocabulary feed.

this season is californian hippie. nada surf; beulah (there's something addictive about the mix of the occassional chunky beats and the lightness of the tunes, the happy rhythms and bittersweet chords); the thrills croon big sur.i'm thinking big yellow floppy sun hats, beads, lace. topshop has dreamy dresses and bohemian and 1970s looks. those dresses. those knits. penny lane in almost famous beckons. they shouldn't have erased miss selfridge from here. i spied a beautiful, green bag amongst other treasures. from shades of azure and multifarious shades of other blues, my wardrobe has gradually, become more green. green, is more mysterious than blue; it's got more shadow implications than common blue.

fortunately they didn't include mazzy star in The OC soundtrack. it'd have become too common. it's stuff meant to be discovered, hidden and shared secretly among lovers of such night sounds, one musical kindred spirit to another. it isn't meant to be told, it's meant to be whispered.

actually, so do many other things.

i'm glad the world has many corners. nooks. cal-de-sacs.

I am a hybrid of: Academic Girl Indie Girl Click on the pictures below to read more: Take the 'What Kind of Girl Are You?' quiz at CookingToHookup.com

i love dictionaries, i don't read cosmo but i place VOGUE on the same pedestal as i do dictionaries.

i didn't get to see you today, and i was truly the worse for it. sense of disconnection and a strong desire to do some roundhouse kicks and rigorous punches. but nil to all, i was docile and tame. i had a scoop of tiramisu gelato. i also read an old issue of VOGUE; tom ford was an architecture student. and a sudden realisation that i do love the sun after all albeit in a different way from how i love the darkness.

took cousin to watch jamX at youth park and bumped into several friends. last year's winners were really good. not much time for such fancies in the near future though.

i will surely swim tomorrow? gotta tunnel deep and think about my seven apertures in all originality and hardwork.

the aviator, no not for me. disappointment in all; leonardo di caprio's acting/ character is too contrived. and did i sense a deja vu? 'rosebud' in citizen kane? i think it tries too much to be grand, too flighty for some reason, i'm not at all happy, cept' for the occassional jazz parties and the pretty planes. for the whole film, somehow, i felt the same incompleteness as with gangs of new york. but anyway, great company (but of course) with great guy.

'you talking to me'? this is weird i'm haunted by taxi these days.

next if i can make it, will be closer (oh natalie, natalie. wherefore art thou natalie), alfie and finding neverland when it comes.

this day was punctuated by sweet sms(s) of a certain type that i shall keep close to my heart. can i say, i love you while i am typing this post and i will be loving you when i retreat to my room to read and write the night away. twenty quick laps in the pool after school did me good. i feel nicely stretched. today was a good five hour discussion about networks, virtual reality, genes, cells, alternative housing, le corb, TKS, time, space, hawkings, and a little mention of ben webster and the jazz types.

an sms love affair:

mingyao (before noon) : i love you in the morning.
mingyao (after twelve) : i love you in the afternoon.
mingyao (before sunset): i love you in the evening.
mingyao (at 7.10pm) : i love you before the 730 show.

and of course, beloved trumpeter, i love you every second.

the more time i spend with you the more i want you by my side every second. everything went by in a blur until i was in your arms when you crossed the road to meet me.

we went to get a new hard disk cos my computer died again. then we zipped off to jiahui's house to get OC episode seven and other micellaneous things. jiahui stays in a shophouse in town, that's something to be envious about, everything, including the narrow window with the balustrade, the creaking tiny steps, the intermmediate space between the living room and the kitchen, the quaint gate, the quaint door, the beams, the ceilings, the fact that it's within such a marvellous address but so enclosed, makes it a very pretty place to stay in. though of coure, nothing beats my favourite greenmeadows. then we drove to marina square to have our favourite duck/charsiew rice with xian cai soup this time, which was nicely sour. then it was zip off to home. gotta think about school work.

when's our next date? i can't wait.

Paulaner Brauhaus for fourth anniversary dinner. non too familiar, i'm still in a romantic daze for sure. we had a romantic window seat and the atmosphere was rather dewy and surreal or was it the half litre of lager that led me to belive so? you had your pork knuckle and i had my saussage platter. with the rain outside we played make-pretend europe in our heads. me in my black dress with lace trimming and you in your black one-pocket shirt and camel-coloured chinos. so it was to be, the stroll along to the esplanade, the gazing, the hugging, the handholding which is quite the best. MY CHOY, you are king!

went for a run in the evening, chasing my shadow that ran along the concrete walls of the canal, tuned in to lush radio - which is great because it increases my choice of running music. it's a new treat running to morcheeba or bossanova bebel gilberto.

it has been done, mei, it has been done. hey MY CHOY, wooooooo.

tea with bernice at coffee bean. such a joy, she's a sweet one. one more person to have lunch with at school. if only i didn't move from greenmeadows, arghs. tomorrow trumpeter, tomorrow. look foward, hence, a romantic time ahead. lush radio plays beautiful stuff most times, it's best listening to when i'm with you dashing boy-o-mine. dad's cooking steak in the kitchen and it's a rainy black blue evening. tender is the night.

there's an elective this coming semester with topics on iconology, baudelaire and art criticism. i hope i get that. the little things that excite me in life.

made myself go do 20 laps at the pool and i was floundering again in the water, i've forgotten how to swim properly. tomorrow morning i shall surely go run in the morning for an hour. perhaps the ulcer came timely to prevent me from sabotaging my exercise regime. no more 'podding' till july my love.

was browsing through the sale books in borders this afternoon and met a friend so we chat abit about music and stuff and his band is playing next sun so i'll take my thai cousin down to watch him. tomorrow i'm taking him to the singapore history museum then to sushi lunch.

tennyson. i didn't understand you then when ee jie gave me the book but i loved the illustrations and the lyrical nature of your verses.

i recommend oeseafood salad from olio dome, for a meal or with a friend, very good talk food. t'was with bren we sat by the window for an hour and a half. in the morn i did no running. meeting with the class leaders and smartly-dressed boy drove me home. the practice is on tv now, sad ending.

initial reluctance melted to happy aches after 30 laps. somehow i didn't swim so smoothly today, i felt like a cat in the water with uncoordinated limbs splashing all around. drizzle chased away the potential pool crowd. i shall do a run tomorrow morning, no vacillations allowed. one burst of energy and endorphins leads to another. a type of addiction it is, this feeding of good aches. had dinner with ee jie at sakae sushi at holland village - salmon-filled am i, full of warm feelings, my sis is beautiful. green tea kit kat is a strange treat i got myself. and to the trippy trumpeter, i see ya tomorrow. currently, i'm feeding me sounds from the gattaca soundtrack and feeling mellow and sad and full of sighs. i love that show especially when the brothers are swimming out into the sea the second time - the scene cuts into my heart and mind and soul.

when is garden state coming to singapore, if ever? natalie portman i declare my undying affections and devotions for you. do you hear me? you can pass down your discarded zac posen dresses to me maybe...you can suggest i be his muse. marc jacobs, also can.

families are intricate, complex organisms. love and hate run high, low and intenesely at different points. we hurt we heal we expect we disappoint we rejoice. but at the end of the day we're all individuals. so therefore, forgive that the big picture may be blurred sometimes. we all falter. the new year started off with forced blase-ness, not forced but layered upon. how to scratch, peel off that surface bit? how to not feel this way?

this week, to watch all the films i said i must watch by 2004, most of it might be my antidote. before sunset. after sunset. dogville. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. in the mood for love. happy together. fallen angels. the godfather trilogy. great expectations again.

i don't know. i'm soaking deep in reverie. so tsk. tomorrow. thirty laps and 8km run. i look foward to that. that's getting me somewhere good. ee jie says no mooning allowed. so i'm mooning no more. i'm a new hippie.

oh so oooh. so we watched our cheena show and laughed and slapped our thighs in exhileration at their tv antics. and we dug out the lego tool box and built a house in red bricks, finding the twos and threes and ones to fill in the gaps. and today was the primere of our first baby. MandM productions, twas fun, yesterday with the chicken chop and spagetti sauce hot dog and playin' that funky music. we do it so well together. i never want to let go holding your hand. check this out - cool stuff

breaking of the news is a heartstopping thing to do not because of the fear of getting scolded but because of the disappointing and burdening the receiver of the news. it's wasted in some ways. alfie! when are you coming to the big screen? tomorrow we will watch i want to be famous in celebration of the success of MandM, love, you and me.

Hey, Summer Sun
Your love's divine
Never before I've met your kind
And now you're mine