These rants have moved somewhere else. Sorry.

Post-script: I've decided to embark on a few projects hence, the Great Move. First one mostly on path of destructive blind-hitting revenge (ooh delicious!), and second being something generally epic and encyclopaedic. I might get back to this at some point. Most probably not.

Thank you to those of you who have read this for years. I might still post locked with general progress reports. But otherwise, y'all know my email. Bai.

Leave me alone. I don't know what I am capable of or what I believe in anymore.

I'm not trying to make myself unhappy on purpose.

I choose to destroy myself because I don't know where else to put my anger. I'd rather not destroy other people. Yet.

This is a fucked up universe. I look at my last entry, the locked one. And it hurts.

All I could do last night was scream into my pillow repeatedly, No. No, No, No, No. Waking up every few minutes screaming again. Panicking.

Panicking for what I'm not sure anymore. Have you already left me? Are in the process of it? So many signs that look salvageable and like you don't want to do this.

I don't know if I have anything left to give you. I've agreed to every request you've ever made me. It sounds like I did all that unwillingly when I say it that way but I wasn't. I just feel drained and chucked.

I'm in no position to bargain. I don't want to.

In my head there are just alternate trains running. The first one still so horrified, pleading please don't do this. That this is all ridiculous and there's nothing to be unhappy about if we evidently care about each other so much. We'll just work through it. We've done it before.

And the second one, just so angry, self-loathing and hurt. That part tells me what a fool I am. Tells me plainly that I should hate myself for being such a disgusting creature. That no amount of alcohol or self-abuse or harm will change how generally unable I am to be cared for enough not to abandoned by people and how bitter and changed I know I will be from this.

And both run against each other repeatedly, and I start screaming again. I'm so shaky I feel as if I did break my promise to Shaun about the pills. But I know I didn't. Because I don't, won't, can't believe that this is over.

Because if you care for me as much as I think you do, you wouldn't be able to do it.

Because I think it's insensible that I come to you with my worries and you take it as a sign that we've never been happy. When you have no idea how happy you make me. And how completely loved you are.

And I have to go before I just keep typing with no sense. I'm aware enough to recognise that I'm fragmenting, and that I'll only disintegrate further now.

Everyone is using someone in some way. We hide behind all sorts of terms to soften the innate selfishness of using. Duty. Love. Loyalty. Reciprocation. Objectification. Selfishness in its positive and negative shades all the same. Even those who propose they are selflessly in service of another's happiness are in denial that they do not derive a personal pleasure from being able to give their loved ones what they want.

My mum has this saying about loving people and using things, not the other way around. And lately I wonder if there's not much difference between the two.

Often in the people who bemoan being used, there appears an exaggerated bitterness and a convenient forgetfullness that those who are used, use in turn. I don't mean to imply that these multiple exactions between people cross each other out. But I don't believe it to be a two-wrongs-don't-make-a-right scenario either.

What I think is that there comes a point where you have to realise the difference between neglect and the simple daily exactions that come from being whatever relation you have to me. It becomes simpler when you think about what specific relations these are. And then ask yourself whether you demand too much or expect too little. And if you receive more than you're comfortable with or too little to sustain a relation in that capacity.

Friends don't begrudge other friends of coming to them when they are troubled. Neither do they contrive to make one feel guilty for not laying down attentions which belong in the realm of romance.

As far as my record of use and usage of people goes, I don't feel Machiavellian about my distinctions or trespasses or even my choice to be overly affectionate or less than cordial to whomever. If you can't be straight with yourself and your own opinion of people, you risk either becoming embittered with too much love or apathetic and bordering on misantrophic. Either way you will be eventually alone and (if you care to admit it to yourself) lonely.

So if I choose to keep my distance, it is never initially out of disgust. It's just a matter of principle. Don't be alarmed.

And if I choose to trust you not only with my happiness, but also my insecurities and selfish needs for assurance, it's probably because I trust you enough to know how the system works... and to love me back. It is also just a matter of principle.

Don't be alarmed.

So horrible! Instead of continuing the good work of well... being good... and productive... and reasonably on top of things, I am watching Fur TV episodes on youtube, at 3.33 am. Because I can't seem to access Flight of The Conchords episodes anymore since all the working links are on megavideo which appears to be dead.

And eff me, since when did I start having such a full schedule?

I am itinerar-ized, sleep-deprived, and ready to go. Explode. Collapse from exhaustion. In a non-depressing sort of happy self-combusted way. Not that there's anything to be positively brimming with joy over precisely. I think I just feel surprised at being so content in conditions that would normally be considered mildly distressing?



How cute are these guys?

I miss my pate. It was confiscated by Thai immigration.

I miss feeling tired at 11.40 pm. I am jetlagged.

I miss my boyfriend. Er... no following comment to that really.

I miss Joe. And cheap beer, haggis and all things that make the UK great, and greater still with enthusiastic company.

Sat 16 hours on a plane, and you'd think I'd have calmed down by then, but no. On the plane from Bangkok, was still blubbering like baby whale. Air stewardess felt so sorry for me she kept increasing the shots in the Gin Ts I kept ordering.

It's nice to know that my family and friends (some of them?) missed me too though.

I wouldn't call England home. But I wouldn't call it a holiday destination either. It's funny that I seem to find a way to visit it every two years or something to that effect.

I feel motion sickness. And a much needed shower. And supper. Yes. Sorry for the abrupt ending. I suppose I'll run into everyone who'd want to know how this all went in the next couple of days anyway.

Email correspondence from my sister:

[Val] Oi. Send us updates. Ma is getting worried you drop dead in a purple heroin ditch.

[Jenn] WTF is a purple heroin ditch?

[Val] The presence of crystal methaphetamine detected in substances is purple. That's the colour you see when you roll yourself in a hole.

-------------------------------------------------

Quite irritated that 19th C Lit has no published booklist as of yet. Found One Hundred Years of Solitude amongst the humongous selection of books in the Baxter household. Enjoying it. The idea of Patke terrifies me though.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

It's disorienting being so content and yet so aware of how short time is, and then wanting also to just kickstart work again, and then being frustrated at sense of sort of unrequited fervor, and then well..

I don't know.

I want to be alone with you in a wood somewhere. Wood fires have the most amazing smell.

It's the lack of urgency in the light of caution that seems foreboding rather than encouraging. And maybe that's what's encouraging me to be more namelessly discomforted.

I feel like some post-natal depressive person. And it's annoying. And I am trying to pick(ing) myself up.

I'm going to Tesco's to find myself a nice bag of chips to eat in the park.

Feel 8 different kinds of shit.

Nauseous.

Paranoid about packing too little/too much. Insecure about inability to be charming to the 'rents. Also am skinny little Asian person. Oh god, what if they think their son's dating an anorexic.. and a strangely tan looking 'Chinese' one at that.

Disgusted at own discrimination.

Paranoid about missing plane connections since travelling alone.

Lethargic about plucking eyebrows and finishing everything.

Nauseous.

Afraid of being nauseous when get off plane.

Paranoid about airport authorities.

Anxious about not understanding the tube system (not the stations, but the payment machine thing. I don't know why I've always found it confusing. The coin sizes not being in sequential order doesn't help.).

Panic about cultural manners and differences etc.

Paranoid about expense estimates.

Sneaking suspicion that will manage to offend the entire country on destructive trail up from Heathrow to Sheffield.

Afraid of getting sick on plane and being refused into country. Or being refused into country because look like could be terrorist (What? I was asked some very suspicious questions the last time I went.).

Panic-stricken to point that not sure if want to even leave the country. Or my bed. But I must attack my face with my tweezers. Yes. And shave the rest of my leg hair. Because to hell with waxing.

Time to departure is 4 hours. Or less. Must leave house in less than 2 hours.

I must do the following by 5 pm tomorrow. In roughly this order. It only just hit me sometime this evening that I am leaving tomorrow.

1.

Finish Module Preference Exercise

2. Print out various tickets and bills including:
Bill for coming semester (I know.. I'm horrible)
Plane ticket
Festival tickets
Bus ticket

3. Check with agency which fucking terminal the plane's leaving from

4. Pack:
Clothing (How much underwear will one need? This is a serious question.)
Toiletries (Must not forget toothbrush! Or razorblades. Or baby wipes. SHIT MUST GET BABY WIPES.)
Medication (Decold, Indoflam, Ponstan, Synflex, Yasmin )
Shoes (1 sneakers, 2 flats, 1 slippers, and heels(???) )
Electronics (Phone + charger, Wrapped Laptop + charger, Fully-charged ipod + cable)
Entertainment (Studio Chibli collected films DVD set, Journal + Pens, minimize no. of books to 2)

5. Buy following:
Baby wipes
Vagisil (How does one use Vagisil? Also serious question. Have never thought of using it since it seems so antiseptic and unnatural)
Box for present for Michael's parents. Think the original box is fugly.

6. Clean out travel bags

7. Change currency

8. Have last-minute goodbye lunches and messages sent etc.

9. Have very thorough shower before going to airport. Will not be able to shower for 4 days upon departing.

10. Dear god, what have I forgotten... sure got one larh. Aiyoh Toa Payoh!

Put my ipod on shuffle on Jason Mraz on the way home and came out with the following.

1. Plane (Mr. A-Z)
2. Absolutely Zero (Live at Backyard Dagmar Oatmarsum)
3. You and I Both (Jason Mraz: A Demonstration)
4. 0% Interest (Live at Schubas Tavern Jan 2003)
5. Conversation With Myself (Live at Schubas Tavern Jan 2003)

It ended off with Dynamo of Volition (both All Night and We Sing. We Dance. We Steal.. versions), Make It Mine and Bob Dylan's Man Gave Names To All The Animals. Which was good for dancing about in my room having reached home.

But I was thinking before the uplifting end that it was a semi-depressing, latently self-reflexive playlist that my ipod had intuitively picked out for me. Especially Absolutely Zero.

And so yes.

You. You were a friend. You were a friend of mine I let you spend the night
You see it was my fault. Of course it was mine.
I'm too hard at work. Have you ever heard of anything so absurd ever in your life.
I'm sorry for wasting your time.

See who am I to say this situation isn't great? When it's my job to make the most of it
Of course I didn't know that it would happen to me. Not that easy.

Hey what's that you say? You're not blaming me for anything well that's great
But I don't break that easy. Does it fade away?
So that's why I'm, I'm apologizing now for telling you I thought that we could make it
I just don't get enough to believe that we've both changed.

See who am I to say this situation isn't great? It's my time to make the most of it
Of course I didn't know that it would happen to me. Not that easy.
If all along the fault is up for grabs why can't you have it
If it's for sale what is your offer, I'll sell it for no less than what I bought it for
Pay no more than absolutely zero.

Well neither one of us deserves the blame because opportunities moved us away
And it's not an easy thing to learn to play a game that's made for two that's you and me
The rules remain a mystery. See it can be easy.

See who am I to say this situation isn't great? It's our time to make the most of it
How could we ever know that this would happen to me, not that easy, no
When all along the fault is up for grabs and there you have it
If it's for sale what is your offer, I'll sell it for no less than what I bought it for
Pay no more than absolutely zero.

1) What author do you own the most books by?

Individually Chuck Palahniuk. But we've a family collective thing going so also Shakespeare, Murakami and Neil Gaiman.


2) What book do you own the most copies of?

Great Expectations (6 copies, including 1 leather bound) and the Bible (and its various derivatives, possibly 12 but I figure a religious text hardly counts).


3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?

Am not a grammar Nazi.


4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?

Edward Cullen is no secret.


5) What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children; i.e., Goodnight Moon does not count)?

Both Alice in Wonderland books. And Bridget Jones' Diary.


6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?

Hur hur hur. Pirate And The Pagan - Virginia Henly. Which is still with Rachel.


7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?

The Twilight series. It was horrible. I enjoyed it very much.


8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?

To The Lighthouse - Virginia Wolf.


9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?

A novel: Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk or J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zoey
A play: Marat/Sade - Peter Weiss or Poor Fish - Christian Tseng and Calvin Christopher (if they ever publish it anyway)


10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?

Stephanie Meyer. For writing such awful crap that has managed to capture the hearts of women of various ages. Something a great number of masters of literature never seem to be able to do despite all their cleverness because they (intentionally or unintentionally) contrive to make one feel stupid.


11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?

Invisible Monsters - Chuck Palahniuk. It's been in the works forever but it never seems to happen. Or Oryx and Crake - Magaret Atwood. In fact that choice might be really interesting. Fables or Sandman would also be pretty darn cool.


12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?

A Long Way Down - Nick Hornby. I used to love him, but I just can't tolerate anything after 31 Songs.


13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.

Writer.. Neil Gaiman. Damn the English and their irresistible sexiness. Something to do with his short story on the tarot cards. Or it could have been Neverland/American Gods type feel. Possibly vampiric, involving rabbit-hole-like tunnels. Edward Cullen was sadly not involved.


14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?

Distinctions do not matter. Only your private enjoyment.


15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?

J. G. Ballard's Crash. It made me feel physically ill. In fact, never finished it. Still have a third of the book to finish.


16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?

Titus Andronicus. Which may not even have been written by him. It was bloody brilliant though. Both the film and the production.


17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?

Tough. French have Rimbaud. Russians have Nabokov and Zamyatin. Little exposure to either but both seem to have uncanny zing (like they've hit their mark better than English authors) in so far as their translators narrow down the nuance. Tricky tricky.


18) Roth or Updike?

Updike was on The Simpsons right?


19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?

WHO?


20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?

Shakespeare. Chaucer. Erm.. no. Shakespeare. Ambivalent about Shakespeare. Usually hate him when first start reading anything by him but subsequent rereading prompts great appreciation.


21) Austen or Eliot?

Austen because I'm secretly a hopeless romantic at heart.


22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?

I've never read any Singaporean novels unless forced. It's embarrassing that the only local authors I know are that woman who's name sounds like Teh ping, Thumboo, and Catherine Lim (who I dislike for having made an old man who was clearly more infirm than her wheel around her christmas shopping trolley). Embarrassing also that I've never really read things outside of stuff I'd had to study for, because have no time to explore.


23) What is your favourite novel?

Winnie The Pooh. Also Alice Adventures in Wonderland. I don't consider them to be solely children's books, having not read them when I was a child anyway.


24) Play?

Erm... The Phantom of The Opera count? I like musicals... (...)
Written plays read, I'd probably pick Othello for sentimental reasons.


25) Poem?

I can't say who. But it was written by someone for a friend. And it has the best parting shot I've ever seen.


26) Essay?

Something by that last guy we were studying for Psychoanalysis. Polish guy. Also Edgar Allan Poe's The Philosophy of Furniture for its blatant racism.


27) Short story?

Everything Christian Tseng's ever written.


28) Work of nonfiction?

My grandfather's old diaries.


29) Who is your favorite writer?

Chuck Palahniuk.


30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?

Murakami. There's something mildly evocative of nostalgia and disturbed calmness in his stuff. But it's nothing to rave about because he is always so.. mild. It feels disproportionate.


31) What is your desert island book?

I'd rather bring an empty notebook than one book to be stuck with and drive myself mad re-reading.


32) And... what are you reading right now?

Chuck Palaniuk's Pygmy.

So yes, work is getting better. I am still clumsy. But yes, hopefully I won't be the fifth person fired this month. Nice that they're cool with me disappearing next month. NUS is a different story. LOA application is screwed up. Will have to call tech people in the morning. Company cab driver is such a nice laid-back guy.

Tomorrow is our first run on the river. Well the dry run was today. Highlights include making bartenders on the quay dance around as we went past while at work and wave. And a bunch of people hanging out run after us on the pavement because I guess they really really like what we were playing (I forget now what song it was).

Joe possibly coming down in the weeks to come. Hopefully. My favourite room-mate.

And one month in the UK. Is all kinds of ridiculous awesome. Also partially insane. I'm not exactly counting down days because I'm not entirely sure how many days June has. But it's the 19th. Mmmm...

Wondering, however, what is correct etiquette for staying in someone's house for a month. I've had long-term guests stay. Sometimes for years, but I've never been one. Am also very shy and will make horrible impression. What is an appropriate house present? Edibles will be difficult since will be on plane for 16 hours. Also will spend four days communing in the woods, not showering and experiencing proper music festival... straight off the plane. No fridge. Mother has suggested batik prints. Batik prints not indigenous to here. And horrendously tourist-y. In fact, possibly only indigenous products here are Tiger Beer, Mr. Brown and Harry Lee. Oh halp!

If could bring Teh Tarik ice-cream that would probably be nice. But again impractical.

ARGH.

Happy happy happy though.

Which is not to say do not also feel anxiety. Rather is a good balance between extremes of distress and euphoria.

-------------------

Ok.. I had to count. 27 days. 27 is not a very big number. ZOMG AWESOME SUPREME HAPPINESS FTW.

I hate my job.

My boss hates me because I am incompetent. That hardly seems fair with not much in the way of instruction. My fingers are mildly burnt. And neutral feelings towards waffles have now become absolute hatred.

I'm telling myself that I only need to endure this for 5 weeks. Yes. Because I don't know if I can do this on a regular basis. It is depressing mind-numbing skulldrudgery.

And I'm booking my flight tomorrow.

And my leave of absence after.

And then I'll be okay. I think. Yes.

5 weeks of ridiculousness. I can do that.

No more drinking. Drinking is bad.

I'm sure I'll retract that statement the next time I drink. We kept saying "TO JOE!" over and over again.

Still stuff on mind. Feel anxious. But it'll be okay (right?).

Am more or less decided on going.

Happy birthday Jer and Tash.

1. Applying to work at Timbre at Arts House today. Cancelled job working for Starhub because the terms were ridiculous. And I think they very well know this because the guy wasn't surprised at all.

Realise that if Timbre hires me (how awesome would that be? Live music. Amazing pizzas. Feeding you is one of their perks apparently. And transport home at night. And nice boozed up people everywhere.) that will bring the total number to part-time jobs I'm working currently (not counting random gigs) to 3.

I think I might die from exhaustion.

Or not.

Shaun might be happy at least one of us works at Timbre. Lol.

It's not a day job, which is what I would have preferred. But then, with my record of sleeping and waking times, that's probably not a bad thing.

Parents coming home tonight. Cannot wait to tell them what I plan to do in August. Sarcasm does not translate well in typing.

Crossed fingers, toes, extra limbs I don't know about. And yes, this is something I really really really want.


2. I wish you wouldn't hurt yourself. I know that's a hypocritical thing to say. But you shouldn't. It may not look like it but you have so much to be happy for. So much you know you want to do for yourself. You don't need me to tell you that.


3. Told Shaun yesterday at supper that I need to eat more (understatement). And he gave me this look when I said it'd be good for insulation purposes. At which he went "for piak piak sound".

It's never so much that I want everyone to think I'm attractive or even presentable as is clear from my preference in hoodies and baggy shirts. Rachel says repeatedly she wants to pack me off to one of those Extreme Makeover shows. But I'm having random bouts of insecurity. Thought on the train a few days ago that even my rabbits don't like me. Both have shat/pissed in my lap at some point in time. They've not done this to anyone else in the house. My dad sat there and laughed at me.

I'm being oversensitive, I know.

And I'm telling myself that the desire to feel wanted or useful to people must have its roots in vanity more than anything else. So this feeling is unwarranted. Plus, I wouldn't say I'm being neglected exactly by friends and loved ones. Everyone's just busy with their own thing. And so I should toughen up. It's not like I don't have things to do too.

Feeling quite okay. Very okay. Very ecstatically okay. But unsurely okay. Okay. That's about all, okay?

Also also also, everyone should know me by now in that I never listen to what anyone says although I appreciate the concern. Really. Really do.

But I would also not be the Jennifer you all know and love if I was more sensible.

And so yes. We shall see.

I hate myself.

Changed layout:

Credit:
Layout by breaded_fish @ edge_of_the_art.livejournal.com
Background by pitchouill @ edge_of_the_art.livejournal.com

It's got monkeys on it. So brin, you might want to look at the original post. I like like like.

LMFAO.

I'm going to blog this because I told Zach I would.

We're talking and he tells me about his army mate who got out of Christmas Eve duty because his girlfriend killed herself.

Z: Isn't that sad? I've never had anyone within two degrees of myself kill themselves before. Have you?
J: ... Yes.
Z: Besides me, sometime? Okay anyway, baby girl, please don't ever kill yourself to get me out of duty.
J: OMG. You idiot.
Z: What? Why are you laughing?
J: I swear to I'm going to blog this down.
Z: Okay, but baby girl, don't do it okay. It's not worth it.

...........

I don't know whether to laugh or be disturbed.

Other funny things I forget to mention.

At Jason's party I went to find my shoes to go out and smoke and only found one shoe. I found the other when I went outside next to the dustbin on the road. And consequently had to hide my shoes everytime I re-entered the house.

I know my shoes are worn out. But they're comfy. Chee tat. I bet it was Jeremy Ng (ref. to previous house party at Jason's house).

I am curious who did it though, honestly.

Aaaaaahhhh... nippple nippple. HEHE.



Again, final reminder. The Sexies gig is tomorow. We're the first band up. Free admission. Starts at 6.30. Our set is 7 something, but these timings then to be later than that.

Happy New Year everybody.