when you were young

god i just love listening to some artists playing in live lounge! they're so eargasmically unique...

these are the noisettes doing a cover of the killers song, when you were young. personally don't like the killers but they're song writing skills and lyrical competence just comes shining through in this cover (ironically when someone else is doing it). listen to it please, its so genuinely lovely.

check out the noisettes. brilliant!

in other news, apparently miss singapore universe 2009 can't speak english properly even with 10 years of compulsory education. they're making a pretty big deal out of this, for reasons nobody actually gives two turds about. i thought i might still comment.

a) firstly, should we really be that shocked and mortified? lets look in on the education system. we only have to actually speak good english twice a year during oral. and even then, most of us fake it by putting on accents that don't belong to us. also, the education system's so hard up for teachers, they just about qualify anybody that owns a pencil skirt.

b) we're not going to make it past the first round anyway (just look at her, its like the concept of natural selection just overlooked singaporeans.), why do we care? we don't even need the representation. one day we're wee little fishing pond, and then WHAM! we're twice as big using your sand. our currency's thrice as strong because we're selling your goods. we've achieved political stability in less time than it takes clinton to zip up his fly using your communist ways! clearly, we don't NEED any representation in donald trump's little project to increase his number of sexual conquests before he dies. let's face it, our whole economy's strategy's based on "we're gonna get you when you least expect it". who cares if some little tramp misrepresents us? if you think china's scary, clearly you haven't been paying attention... pardon the patriotism, but its all so trivial and silly.

c) i can solve all of this in 2 seconds by sending my resident PRC scholar over to south africa to be her translator. all she has to do is put a lid on it.

bottomline, let's save that empty space in the newpapers for actual news. can't find any? more foxtrot i say.

cheerio.

inglourious basterds

YABADABADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

had chem mcq today. last prelim paper. one hour. no time. want to kill myself for mixing up silicon and sulphur dioxide!! went to have breakfast with allan after. his treat, kinda paying back sandwhich bar brunch. bled him dry heh heh heh.

showered and went to watch inglourious basterds with the milkster at around one. she's the bestest company (after you, you and of course you whose reading this). the movie was lovely, very satisfying. although i don't think it quite deserved M18 rating, the blood and gore was tastefully done and sent me into riots. very funny, might watch again given some time.

oh and i saw a trailer for this thai(?) film and i must watch it! sent me reeling in fear... woohoo. horror films confirm my existence.

went to ion orchard for the first time. PRETTY. though i don't quite like the crowd... especially in the evening. i prefer the crowd of vivo or taka, not sure why.

read a book. haven't read any fiction since i was 15 (my jeffrey archer eras. when i finished all his books, i felt a wee empty inside... like there was nothing left to look forward to in life.) that's not to say i haven't read any books, just been reading non-fiction. was pretty excited to finish american gods (part of the collection left behind by o.sis) on the train today. awesome book - although im a little late to the rave party. i might read it again but skip the parts that made sad and weepy.

liked these 2 paragraphs the mostest out of the book:

We do not always remember the things that do no credit to us. We justify them, cover them in bright lies or with the thick dust of forgetfulness. All of the things that Shadow had done in his life of which he was not proud, all the things he wished he had done otherwise or left undone, came at him then in a swirling storm of guilt and regret and shame, and he had nowhere to hide from them. He was as naked and as open as a corpse on a table, and dark Anubis the jackal god was his prosector and his prosecutor and his persecutor.

AND this one...

People believe, thought Shadow. It's what people do. They believe, and then they do not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjuration. People populate the darkness; with ghost, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe; and it is that rock solid belief, that makes things happen.

i wanted to put them here so i don't have to keep going back to the book to read them. they're insightful and telling, i find. i know! maybe i'll memorise them and quote them back to people to sound deep, profound and other-worldly. i say you should too... its knowledge that can only come from years of meditation, deep brething and yoga at your finger tips! well worth it, i say. heh:)

so it'll be back to studying tomorrow. toodles bitches!

so sister...

hello there.

had a chem paper this morning that went surprisingly not bad. hoping for a D. aaah, if only... oh yeah, i need a econs tutor badly coz i suck at it and think that econs is all over-generalised bull. if you know someone or are one, email me.

i was so tired this morning before the paper that i had to take a shower without the lights on because my eyes felt like golf balls pressing against my brain. i couldn't sleep last night because i spent the better part of it re-living every past embarrassing moment in my life. ever have one of those episodes? just on the cusp of nodding off... this little portion of your brain that you keep tucked away, buried under a mound happy and safe memories suddenly jabs you with fresh remembrance (and searing hot embarrassment)?

and so i tossed and turned, burying my head in the pillow, yelling into it, forcing myself to think of something else chemistry-related (but then the more i tried the more i remembered of course). physically contorting myself, kicking of the blanket and then suddenly feeling completely naked... what must people have thought of that awkward version of me?? urgh... fresh waves of repulsion and hatred for myself. gross. eeew. yuck. even now I'm making a face...

ARGH! how did anyone ever love me in my prepubescent awkwardness?? from moral reproach to teenage angst to pettiness to adolescent crushes. will the list never end? lying there having flashbacks of incidents that must have subconsciously defined me somehow is painful, horrifying and totally tormenting. it's like all my past crap manifested itself in a horrible twisted scaly monster of a being, prodding me with a gnarly grotesque fingernail every time i try to forget.

"oi oi. remember that time... oh you know... that time you made a birthday card out of paper and colour pencils. and then even had the cheek to give it to boy B? yeah you know boy B... no don't act like you forgot... yeah, that one. the one that never made fun of you for being a prefect and even let you copy his homework? remember what that supposedly sweet boy did to your card? remember? remember? he used it as rough paper for math! HAHA! he might as well have thrown it in the bin, which is where it should have been in the first place! aaaah don't think I'll let you forget.... nope never ever ever, not in a million years. not even when you're on your deathbed. not even when you're lathering yourself with soap in the shower. nope, not now not EVER! muahahahahahahaha ahahahaha"

"ooooh and what about that time... when your mother forced you to cut your hair so short you could see your scalp? oh of course you remember, you cried because you looked like a boy! even the canteen drinks stall aunty called you 'ah boy'."

i protest at this point. 'it's too much' i say... 'no more, no more' i yell... 'leave me alone!' i cry...

"oh but nandhini, that was just the beginning of the story! pray let me tell! you forget about the part where you came home to an empty house..."

NOOOOOOOO! STOP! i hate you i hate you i hate you!

"and you snuck into your sister's room"

lalalalalalalalalalala i don't want to hear! lalalalalalalalala

"and took her pom poms made out of pink raffia string for her school project. oh you remember what you did with them didn't you? it was the silliest thing!"

at this point i'm too tired to protest. its too late... the memory and embarrassment sets in.

"you stuck them under your hairband and pretended it was hair! HAHAHAHAHA! you looked like a total idiot prancing about the house stroking the coarse raffia, tucking them behind your ear in a bid to look like a girl! AAHAHAHAHAHAHA! remember? remember? oh and your maid and mum came home to catch you in the act?? remember nandhini? remember? AHAHAHAHA! oh you fooooool!"

"or how about the time the boys in your class told you spermatozoa was the scientific name for tadpole? and then they asked you in front of everyone in class if you'd eat some if they gave it to you. and you just had to go and say yes because, oh yes! you just had to act cool. you just had to action bedeh! you just had to impress them and prove yourself to be their equal... AHAHAHAHAHA! you're pathetic! you're a loser! you're a totally pussified lumbering sad excuse for a human being!"

and i resign myself to it. 'i know', i say. 'but i'm different now... i don't care what other people think about me anymore!' i protest again.

"oh is that riiiiiight?? are you sure.....?"

'yes, im a changed person! i'm not like that anymore!'

"oh then how about just last week when you were secretly reading the breast enlargement advertisement... just after reading the slimming centre advertisement next to it? 15kg in two weeks. don't lie, i remember what you were thinking, nandhini! you were impressed and wanted to try it~~ remember? and then your dad walked past... tell me dear girl (the monster's suddenly from ireland, a little imagination here please), what did you do? what did you dooooo?? let's hear it..."

'i turned the page to the comics section so that he wouldn't know what i was looking at...' i say, embarrassed at how filthy i was, like i sold my soul.

"you can't hide from me you filthy fake. you can try but nope. i'm in your head. i'm everything you hate about yourself! EVERYTHING! you can't run bitch! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

emotinal trauma...aaah... so you see why i couldn't fall asleep. that little space in my brain where i keep that sonofabitch monster decided at that precise moment to unlock itself and remind me exactly how pathetic and sorry i should be to have been born. i even have a name for that cruel tormenting monster in my head. his name is gary.

gary is like a sibling to me. he's my evil twin... he was born innocent and lovely and sweet with me; he played with my umbilical cord with me; he fell asleep in my mother's lap with me; he had asthma like me; we even tortured my sister together; he liked everything i liked and hated everything i despised. gary and i shared every experience and aspect of my life. difference is that while i deflect, gary absorbs all things putrid, pessimistic and unpleasant about life so that i don't have to. as a result, gary happens to be the part of me which sees the ugly in everything, including myself.

he's the one that thinks about murdering my sister with a machete, pull a machine gun on the old farts that take fucking long to finish morning assembly and even administer a neck dislocation to that little bitch who cut my queue last week to buy 1 tube of mentos (the freshmaker). gary's the one who thinks he can do kungfu, and that he has a collection of knives, shurikens and every sort of missile on the planet that even hitler's reincarnate would be spoilt for choice. gary's a narcissistic little bugger that dictates my self-confidence and my insecurities. he's the source of my hatred for all things fluffy, pink and happy.

gary, like any other annoying entity in my brain, is, in a nutshell, a neurotic psychotic bastard who keeps me alive only for food and water. i could do very well without that dysfunctional, semi-alcoholic, semi-suicidal, atheistic gary in my brain, but what fun would i be eh?

maybe next time i'll tell you about daffodil, she's a sarcastic, Harley-riding, nasty bitch who dreams of dying in a skydiving accident.

i felt a funeral in my brain

yesterday my uncle died and today's his funeral.

it reinforced my belief that life is so fleeting that every minute should be spent embracing every aspect of the human condition.

i've never admitted this before, but a hedonistic life may not be all its cut out to be. neither is perpetual suffering.

the funeral's going to be a Hindu ceremony. he was very religious. and for once, i'm glad he was. gives you a sense of peace. he'll be cremated and his ashes would be spread in the ocean as with the custom.

i do wish my grandmother would be able to accept it. i don't know what to say to her when she cries. how can i be compassionate and eloquent in a language so foreign to me. all i could do is hold her and let her cry in grief for her son. she seems so small and frail these days, so vulnerable you can't stop yourself from crying either.

i think the worst thing that can happen to you is outliving your children. it's a lonely existence, there's this knowledge that death is around the corner... and the waiting for it alone is excruciating.

i've always felt like you come into this world alone, and you leave on your own. where you come from and where you go is irrelevant because you can only be sure here, now and this.

All Things Will Die

by Lord Alfred Tennyson

(1809-1892)

Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing
Under my eye;
Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing
Over the sky.
One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
Full merrily;
Yet all things must die.
The stream will cease to flow;
The wind will cease to blow;
The clouds will cease to fleet;
The heart will cease to beat;
For all things must die.
All things must die.
Spring will come never more.
O, vanity!
Death waits at the door.
See! our friends are all forsaking
The wine and the merrymaking.
We are call’d–we must go.
Laid low, very low,
In the dark we must lie.
The merry glees are still;
The voice of the bird
Shall no more be heard,
Nor the wind on the hill.
O, misery!
Hark! death is calling
While I speak to ye,
The jaw is falling,
The red cheek paling,
The strong limbs failing;
Ice with the warm blood mixing;
The eyeballs fixing.
Nine times goes the passing bell:
Ye merry souls, farewell.
The old earth
Had a birth,
As all men know,
Long ago.
And the old earth must die.
So let the warm winds range,
And the blue wave beat the shore;
For even and morn
Ye will never see
Thro’ eternity.
All things were born.
Ye will come never more,
For all things must die

i feel a funeral in my brain.