In a country where lots of things aren't always free (like education and speech and viking ship rides), it feels darn good to be, well, free.

Try not to think about how badly you screwed up the paper, because I did too.  And if you did superbly, then good for you! =D

Freelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalaspatulalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalalafreelalala - 

Post-exam stress is getting to me.

BUT OH WELL.  For the next three months, I don't have to have a single inkling in my head!  =D  I am free like the birds in the sky, and just like them, I only need to know how to:

a) Eat accurately.
b) Shit accurately.
c) Fly accurately.

Chentian can go mug ahead of time and be Jonathan Livingston Seagull for all I care.  For now, I am content with being a moron.

So because I have a bad head for remembering dates (this is why I didn't take History), it turns out tomorrow is not the twelfth and I can spend the rest of the day wreaking havoc in Daryl's house until graduation dinner.

I need to start keeping track of my life Gregorianically and stop trusting the Mayan calendar! D:

Other than a short drizzle in the afternoon, today's weather has been An Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind. =)

It's the sort of weather that's fantastic for spending the entire day outdoors, dancing and prancing and balancing.  Only, before you can sneak out through your bedroom window with a rope made of blanket strips, The One Whose Uterus You Came Out From bashes the door down and demands that you finish your 2397468923475th Chinese essay on the politics of Siberia.

"Mum, they're not going to test us on the politics of Siberia."

"You never know!  Your Chinese teacher said they'll test you on news that came out in June."

Yeah right, where did the politics of Siberia appear in, the 13th June edition of The Siberian Herald? ._.  Seriously.

Anyway, I did manage to negotiate a little bit of peace time by volunteering to take my sister to the swings (oh yeah, the pit I mentioned ages ago?  They filled it up and installed swings.  Oddly, I seem to remember the government banning swings many years ago, but oh well, who's complaining? =D ).  In the course of those sweet twenty minutes of freedom, I discovered three things:

a) There are only four flowers in the entire field next to the playground.  We know, because we picked them and they're getting pollen all over my bedsheets now.
b) Mimosas are awesome things to make children believe in magic.  Just ask any kid to step on those amusing little plants, watch them scream in delight as the leaves fold up, and when they ask you why that's happening, tell them with a suave mysterious grin, "It's magic."
c) Never smile at little girls.  I smiled at three of them (I always smile and make faces at little kids, I can't help it, they are that adorable), and they stared back at me with frighteningly big eyes and vacant smirks for the rest of the twenty minutes.  HOW COME THIS NEVER HAPPENS WHEN I DO IT TO THE OLDER VERSIONS.

It was lots of fun though, dancing Para Para atop mimosa beds, playing I Spy, and almost getting mauled by a watching miniature schnauzer (no okay that wasn't very fun, I'm starting to hate dogs now, they need to stop trying to kill me every time they see me).

*sigh* Back to Chinese.

Haha thanks guys, appreciate it lots. =)

We made it!  So because it isn't graduation per se (lousy school system, hrmph), they decided to call it the Secondary Four Final Assembly, which makes it sound a lot like the Last Supper, but ah well.  It doesn't feel like we're leaving each other, though, just moving on to yet another year in RI, which is exactly what it is supposed to be, albeit with a whole lot more drama and awkwardness and, hopefully, a lot more fun.

But I'm not taking any chances, and since we'll be forced to lose all ungentlemanly habits in three months' time (and feminine mannerisms too), I have to get myself dunked and/or taopoked some time before January next year.  For the past four years I have studiously avoided such vulgar activities, but if not now, then when?

(Oh yes, NS will have blanket parties, but that'll probably cost more in medical bills, and I like my appendix the way it is: red and comfortably squishy.)

In a magnanimous gesture to better communication with my parents, I decided to give them a weather forecast of my results slip. Naturally it only led to a temporary shut down in communication, what with the horrible grades for Chemistry and Biology, but I do wish they'd listen and stop insisting that I take Chem and Bio in JC.  I know I dreamed of being a doctor when I was little because Dad looked super cool when he was handling pills and shoving thermometers up every vacant crack, but it's painfully obvious that even if I do force myself to take Chem and Bio, I'll only ever get mediocre grades, be a mediocre doctor, and live a mediocre life.

On the other hand, they argue, if I do go all out Humanities, I'll only ever get mediocre grades, be a mediocre god-knows-what, and live a mediocre unfulfilling life.  Makes my future seem pretty unappetizing, doncha think.

On happier notes, we've decided to spend Christmas high up in the Cameron Highlands.  The itinerary seems to be mostly made up of "Free & Easy", but I suppose that's the whole point: for us to get up and away from everything, write beautiful poetry, and camwhore.

Boy, Rafflesian Spotlight was good stuff.  I can't believe I missed it three times before!  Chia, if you read this, you were awesome (seriously, you were godly on the piano) and Gregory, I know you don't read this, but your singing was brilliant, and you really ought to have won. =)


Will you miss you guys lots, especially after tomorrow.

Sorry for ignoring you entirely today, I had no excuse to do so, and I feel like a downright bastard. =( Promise it'll be made up in 20 days though!  

Honest.

-----

I came home to try and get some sleep before Rafflesian Spotlight, but obviously that's not going to work since Mum's left the stereo blasting old Cantonese favourites at maximum volume. I seriously regret telling her about the Sembawang Music Centre sale; now all we ever hear in this house is Alan Tam's auntie-killer croonings.

Rafflesian Spotlight had better be good stuff.

------

Chia was awesome today. Looking forward to his and Greg's performance at Rafflesian Spotlight. =)

As the school year draws to an end, I find myself having more and more things to say to people, yet less and less courage to voice them. This is going to be the first proper closure I've had in a while, and even though we're just moving on from RI to RI (not even RI(JC) anymore, just plain old RI thanks to yet another awesome new name swap), it still feels like a conclusion of an adventure of sorts, yeah.

Truthfully, I'm going to miss the all-boys education system, not because it was conducive (in fact it wasn't), but because there won't be the same chumminess and closeness of friends that we're used to having. I don't exactly know what to expect (well I do have an inkling or two, but it'd be a little odd penning it down), but things... will be hellishly different, and it'll be hard getting used to it. But even though both factions probably feel the same way (or am I the only one?), it's like what Mrs. Seow said, that this is what life is like, and we just have to keep moving forward.

Rong Jun: "Secondly, IgG also makes the Mycobacterium tuberculosis go boomz, also effectively removing it from the body."
Marker's response: "Only if the pathogen happens to be Ris Low & IgG is rad."

 From evory  .  Seriously, epic win. =)

Topping the level for the English EOY was a pleasant surprise, though once my CA was factored in it was a mangled tragedy of sorts, and the day could only get worse with close-to-failure grades for Chemistry and Biology.

(What the hell was I expecting anyway, I've never done well in the Sciences.  We are just about as compatible as an electric eel is to a rubber ball.)

Calculated GPA sucks to the core, but as long as it's between pi and 2^2, I'm contented.  Though of course things take a less exciting turn when GPA gods come up and ask me about my results.  

*imagined flashback*

Chentian: How much did you get, Weng Hong?

WH: Oh um, nothing much.  You?

Chentian: Haiyah, don't need be so modest one lah.  Tell me your GPA and I'll tell you mine.

WH: Uh, let's see... (randomly picks a number between -97.3 to 1.9328).  You?

Chentian: Uh oh.  Um, don't beat me up please.

WH: Okay.

Chentian: Promise you won't beat me up.

WH: Yes I won't beat you up, darling.

Chentian: It's (picks a number between 4 to 4).

- godly silence - 

Chentian: I did lose half a mark in the Bio test for a spelling error.  Really!  The paper was easy what.  Why are you taking a chainsaw out of your bag, wait - no - wait, I need to pee, lemme go toilet firs - argh, no, hahaha, that tickles - 

----

Remind me to conscientiously avoid Chentian for the next few days.

On the bright side, I'm awfully proud of my class for our Math results.  It wasn't fantastic per se, but the fact that we've gone from 2nd last class in the whole cohort in terms of ranking to 7th this year with everything above average and no failures (haven't done that since the probability test in January) proves that WE ARE AWESOME.  =D  Love you guys, hope to at least see all of you in Math lectures or something.   And if any of you are reading this, sorry about the lateness of the hoodies (yeah you probably forgot too), Daryl and I are working on it, which basically means Daryl's doing the designing and I'm doing the ordering because a) I'm authoritative and b) I can't design for nuts. 

(I can, however, design nuts!  ...I think.)

I now know why speedwalkers swivel their hips and waddle so much, and why my ultra-fit African neighbour five doors down the road always glares at me when I mention ducks.

If you're bored and masochistic and you tend to wake up at five in the morning with nothing to do except drink coffee and watch The Powerpuff Girls reruns, then

Step 1: Venture into the Great Unlit Outdoors.  This is potentially fun for the first few times until you encounter flying cockroaches and bats that are determined to mate with your spectacles.

Step 2: Walk as fast as you can.  This is a no-brainer.  Well, except the part where you have to suppress your instincts to break into a full run because the stupid bat isn't done with the mating rituals.

Results:
1-10m without legs burning - Congratulations! You are obviously fireproof!
11-100m without painful muscle seizures - You have thunder thighs lightning feet!
101m and beyond with legs still attached - You should sign up for the RJC speedwalking PE module!

Of course, it doesn't as of yet exist per se, but with your enthusiastic and ardent support, I have faith that the Protest Against Projectiles In Sports for Edible Vegetables In Loosepants* (P-A-P-I-S-E-V-I-L) will succeed, with varying success.

On an essentially unrelated topic, must every PE module I ever have the misfortune to come across involve projectiles?  Because when handed spherical objects, I tend to be a very messy murderer.  Think Jack the Ripper, with a little more creativity and lime juice.

Though of course I needn't think so far ahead since I won't have a head to think with after tomorrow; the Principal will see to that.

Wilbert, please prepare your ten bucks in advance thanks.

*Every good Biology student knows watermelons aren't vegetables, but I'm not a good Biology student.

"Is my face too shiny?" - Mrs. Ong

"Don't come up to me and say, m'am, I missed my 4.0 by one mark.  If you think missing it by one mark is painful, then I can take away one more mark to make it less painful." - Mrs. Neoh, quoted from evory

----

I'm not even going to discuss EOY results here because depressing is the only word for it.  But there is a certain comfort in things turning out in ways you didn't anticipate, and now that I'm Secondary Four, I've had four years to learn that my PSLE results were a fluke and acceptance of imperfection just comes naturally.

What's harder to accept is how fast time has flown by.

Our seniors were right - the four years in RI would be over before we knew it.  In Secondary One, it seemed as though we had forever to study in RI, and our seniors would always be there for us.  Once we stopped keeping track of time, the days just bled together and suddenly, boom, long pants, boom, NC16 movies, boom, graduation.

(For some of us, graduation will come before the NC16 movies, but anyhow.)

It still doesn't feel as though I've left RI; RISE is still very much a part of my life, I'll keep in touch with the juniors, and most probably I'll keep coming back for the cheaper food at the RI canteen (albeit having to bear the scandalized stares of former teachers).  But the sad sad truth is that everything I do at the secondary campus will be as an outsider, from hereon.  

What happened?  Six years ago I was still a pre-pubescent boy pretending to be a HP technology salesman (no kidding, I was a lame git and probably still am).  Two years from now, I can be prosecuted for treason because I talked to my Malaysian uncle about Singapore politics in a Swiss chicken farm. 

Time flies all too fast.

I know I said earlier that I wouldn't talk about it, but GPA outlook is dismal dismal dismal.  Think rainy day, overcast sky, best Sunday clothes, no umbrella, pavement riddled with puddles, late for date with boyfriend, forgot lipstick, expensive perfume washed off and makeup smudged, only shelter available is the bus stop 2.16 miles away, best Sunday clothes actually mother's most costly satin evening gown with mink fur trimmings, plus it's way past curfew.  

Failure for the Science papers is imminent, except maybe Maths Paper 1, but it's time to look past that and understand that getting into RP was the best thing that could happen to me, else I'd be languishing in juvenile jail smoking crack.  My younger sister isn't in that drastic a situation, but apparently she didn't do well this year and right this moment she's under a huge amount of pressure from The Parents since she can't offer Triple Science (reserved only for the likes of Chentian) and has to take *gulp* Literature or *shudder* Geography.

My parents are still under the delusion that all their kids will one day grow up to be supernaturally good doctors, but three of us just aren't interested in medicine, while the last one hasn't started planning beyond her next Kumon test grade.  Mum thinks my noobness in Science can be cured with tuition, and maybe it's true, but Science will never be my forte.

I haven't even told them I'm going to try out for the Humanities Programme - they'll probably own or disown me or something - but mostly because I don't think I'll get in, with the kind of results I will get on Monday.  But I'll try anyway, and hopefully with the help of

some Befuddlement Charms

a bubbly personality and spunky attitude

good hygiene and a megawatt-braced smile

rum and Cheezels

sweaty armpits and a nervous smile

I'll get them thinking the right way.

And that, essentially sums up my day for yesterday.


Sis got an instant camera! D:  And she's only five.  The most technologically advanced present I ever got was a electronic talking Lala.

Oh well. =/

*revels in the blessedness of being part of a family that loves kids and has the numbers to prove it*

( I had a weird dream last night. )
GeoCities is shutting down for good today. =/ I spent the morning downloading all the A Bit of Fry and Laurie scripts, which although admittedly is very no-life, but has turned me into a Ctrl-C Ctrl-V expert.

I also spent the rest of the day skimming through facts and figures on Youtube.  Good Magazine and the Did You Know? series are awesome places to get random facts and figures for projects. =)


Why didn't I see this video before Chemistry EOY? D:


If I do join the One Earth club in JC, this might actually be worth thinking about. =)

Okay wait I need to stop becoming a Youtube addict.

*goes off to play Wii*

Finally finished Departures; I was hoping for more cello features, but still.  It's nice how it started off with all the little comedic touches, then gradually blossomed into something deeper and more, well, emotional.

Parents are positively hyperventilating - the last time they held a party was when we were still toddlers and my cousins were still teenagers, meaning there was a hell lot more space for people to manoeuvre about.  Now that we're teenagers and the cousins are adults with toddlers of their own, breathing might become more difficult than when Eva Braun kissed Adolf Hitler's prickly moustache.  

"Mmm... you are such a good kisser, Addykins-"

"Anything for you, my lovey-dovey-wuvvy -nggh- ack - what are you doing -"

"My braces, they're - nggh- stuck in your - pleargh - moustache!"

"Wait, no - AARGHH!  Don't pull on my - nggrff!"

"It's not my fault you don't - hrrmph - shave!"

"Don't tug, woman!  If you hadn't insisted on wearing braces, this would never have - oomph - happened!"

"You said I looked - ickkgnnj - prettier like this!"


"Look, I know how to get us out of this - fffsssshh - mess.  We'll just - bttthhff - bite on a cyanide bullet each, then shoot ourselves in the head, okay?"

"Will that - pfft - work?"

"Yes it will, I saw it on The Simpsons on American television - grawhphh - and American television's never - pleggh - wrong-"

"Okay, Addykins - hyurrk - here goes nothing - "

Boomz.  Or as Ms. Ris Low would have it, Shingz.

Everything's up and ready: balloons, banners, unlimited supply of Yupi gummy bears, chocolate eclairs, gas masks, diapers, formula milk - and just in case, 


pliers to separate my braces from aunts' prickly moustaches.


Gotta go, a huge wave of zombies is approaching.

How do women do it?

I mean, every time they visit the hairdresser's, they always come out looking exactly the same as they did before.

Or at least, only women seem to be able to see the difference.  Their husbands just nod sagely and say, "Gosh, you're so pretty, honey." (Smart because it saves your life, dumb because she'll assume it's her new hairstyle.  And honestly?  It's got nothing to do with that.)

Men, on the other hand, always come out of the barbershop looking much worse than they did before.  Unless your name's Zac Efron or Robert Pattinson, you're almost certainly doomed to look really bad after every haircut.  

Or maybe it's just me.


"At the Copa, Co! Copacaban- Oh my god! You're Hannah Montana!"

"No, Mum, I'm not Han-"

"Hey everybody, Hannah Montana's in my kitchen!"

"Mum, look, it's me, Weng Hong -"

"Oh my god, I'm a huge fan of yours!  I love your singing to bits!"

"Mum, you're always complaining about my singing in the shower -"

"And your dress sense!  So stunning!"

"Mum, I'm wearing my uniform - "

"I had no idea you were into cosplay too!  You should come join me at the conventions, I always go as Inuyasha..."

"What?!?"

"You'd make a great Astro Boy; it's your hair - "

Buh.  

Though on second thought, it'd be pretty cool to have a mum who listened to Hannah Montana and went to cosplay conventions as Inuyasha.

In the meantime, I'll just have to put up with looking progressively more dorkish after every haircut.  (Then I'll dress up as Kevin Jonas for Halloween.  Or maybe [just maybe] Megan Fox.)

Wilbert: A reflex is a rapid response to a specific stimulus without conscious control.

Suwe: How do you know all this sh*t??!!!  Do you, like, do Sudoku everyday or something?

----

This fall.

In addition.

To the already existing jagamayabakafawaravacaxalanahapazillion of us.

There come.

Two more.

I now have twin nephews! =D  Named Jobin and Tobin (and there I was worrying about my name).

One of these days I'll do up a family tree and find that it's bigger than Yggdrasil.

Shall get back to studying. >:B

Things I'm looking forward to after exams:

1. Dunking Tak Wei in the pool as a class.
2. Getting a headstart on NanoWrimo.
3. Chocolate eclairs.

Things I'm not looking forward to after exams:

1. Getting dunked.
2. 'O' levels.
3. Dental appointment.  Again.
4. Possibly, all on the same day.

NanoWrimo!

Should I gun for it this year?

Pros:
a) I have an invalid excuse to use the computer.
b) It'll be fun! 

Cons:
a) I'm already running out of coffee.
b) Will definitely kill my 'O' level results.
c) Might require a bit of cheating, and therefore siphone huge amounts of mental strength to silence my conscience.
d) And therefore kill my 'O' level results.




 If I really do try, I'll probably break the rules and start before November, since that's the only way I can do it without sacrificing too much Chinois (for the people who don't speak French, this is pronounced as chee-noise.  Just so you know) time.

I'll figure something out.

Mum's ordering a host of strange dishes for the birthday party.  Obviously she's not taking the children into consideration (since they'll be full up on candycorn and popfloss anyway), but doesn't she realize that I, a growing maturing developing adolescent, need to eat proper food? If the saying that 'you are what you eat' is true, then I'm majorly screwed if she orders squirrel brains, fartons, or spotted dick.

On the other hand, exams would be over by then, so I wouldn't have to worry about fitting behind the desk.

You: (muttering) Pig.

De gustibus non est disputandum!

"How could you not know? I'd thought. How could you miss all those signs?  Well, let me tell you how: you were so busy putting out a fire directly in front of you that you were completely oblivious to the inferno raging at your back." - Handle with Care by Jodi Picoult

Mum's worried that Dad might go senile if we don't talk to him, since he rarely ever opens conversations himself.  And he doesn't have any hobbies, sports or otherwise, which is odd since his job is to tell people to exercise (which he hasn't done for the past 30 years).

So I decided to ignore the fire in front of me (i.e. Geography EOY) and spend some saliva putting out the inferno behind me.  

"Hey dad, wanna go for a walk?"

"Hrmph."

"Hey dad, wanna play some chess?"

"Snkkrff."

"Hey dad, wanna dress up some Barbie dolls?"

"Bnkpfft."

Was about as successful as a jelly making flirtatious advances on a Ditto.

"Wobble!" (If I were Nidoking, you would be my Nidoqueen!)

"Wobble Wobble?" (Really?)

"Wibble Wobble Wobble!" (You are more beautiful than a Beautifly!)

"Wobble Wibble!" (Oh my darling jelly!)

*embrace in gelatinous love*

Bah.  Wish I had that sort of luck with Dad.

On the brighter side of life, my sister's birthday is next Saturday and there'll be balloons and candy and popsicles and bobochacha and board gaming and little children running amok and presents and - 

Little children running amok. o_o

Oh who the heck cares.  Pressies! =D  

We haven't had a proper party in ages.  Mum swears we had one for me and my younger sister's birthday (our birthdays are just six days apart), but all I remember of it was slobbery aunt kisses and a watermelon cake and then getting drunk on agar agar and waking up the next morning dressed in a firefighter suit.

Please try to empathise if you see me wobbling around school next next week like an ant queen.  I have something like 23 doting aunts forcefeeding me with greasy carbo-rich stuff, which coincidentally isn't so far-fetched from the ant queen's plight at all.

"And... there."  I stood back to admire my handiwork.  With my "Orthodontist of the Month" certificate hanging proudly on my wall, I suddenly felt very professional.  Last week I had been featured in Smile Weekly, the dentist equivalent of Vogue, for my "alluring canines and smooth molar curves".  The article went on to expound on the general attractiveness of my wisdom teeth and incisors, and concluded with the line, "Ms. Victoria Secret is living proof that inner beauty can exist without outer beauty."

Feeling awfully chuffed and pleased with myself, I spun around several times in my swivel chair, giggling like a schoolgirl in white - until I turned around to face a schoolgirl in white.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I gushed as I flustered to regain composure.  "You must be my new patient.  What's your name?"

"Weng Hong," she replied, tossing her long luscious hair like a Pantene commercial model.  She kind of reminded me of Lucius Malfoy with his long platinum-blonde hair, only... well, she was Asian and she was a girl.

I tried to strike up a conversation.  "So how old are you?"

"15."

"Doing fine in school?"

"Yeah."

Her lips were pursed in a surly frown, her fringe draped over her expressionless eyebrows.  Okay, maybe not Malfoy.  Probably the sort of girl who wore dark eyeliner and studded vests in her free time.  Poker faced.  Floppy hands.  Frumpy hair.  Not very pleasant, but nevertheless.

"Alright, I want you to lie back in that chair and open your mouth nice and wide for me, okay?"  I flashed a practised and well-Botoxed smile at her.  Maybe she'd open up if I tried to be friendly.  I did what I'd learnt in my body language class - fling my arms open in a proclamation of acceptance.  

Thwack!

My assistant fell to the floor, unconscious.  Immediately, twenty heads belonging to twenty orthodontists popped around the door.

"What's going o- is that Amelia lying on the floor?!?" A single accusing finger shot out and pointed at the damning evidence while the twenty heads swung left and right in chiding unison. 

"Uh, no," I smiled, hastily withdrawing the guilty fist.  "Amelia's just, uh... taking a nap.  That's right!  Poor thing, she's absolutely beat after working for so many hours!"

"It's only eight in the morning," one head observed.

"Um... you mean you didn't know?"  I widened my eyes in faked surprise.  "Amelia's brother's uncle's nephew's cousin's mother's niece's father's daughter lost her job, so Amelia's been working as a fortune cookie writer at Fatt Man Eating House every night to support her."

"Oh."  The twenty heads hesitated for a moment, then disappeared off into their own cubicles.  I heaved a sigh of relief.  My "Orthodontist of the Month" title was safe, for now.

"You did knock her out.  I saw you."  I turned around to see Weng Hong swinging her legs and looking at me intently.  Damn, I'd almost forgotten she was still there.

"It was an accident," I protested.  "I really didn't mean to - "

"Whatever."  She flopped onto the dentist chair, which groaned under her Jabba the Hutt Butt.  "Can we start?"

I grabbed a pair of disposable gloves and snapped them on.  I hated the gloves - they reeked of a thin Milo brew, and always left white powder on my hands that made me feel... unglamorous.

"Okay... open plea - Whaooprghff!" I stumbled back as the overpowering stench of rotting oxtail stew flooded my nostrils.  

"Sorry," she said as she hurriedly closed her mouth.  "I ate garlic spaghetti for lunch yesterday," she added helpfully.  

"Great."  My eyes were rolling uncontrollably, and my head hurt.  I reached for a clothespin and attached it firmly to my button nose.  

Steady now, I told myself.  You're the Orthodontist of the Month!  Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale...

"Okay, I'm ready," I said, gripping my torture equipment with unnecessary strength.  "Say 'Ahh'."

As soon as she said 'Ahh', I realized I'd made a huge mistake.  Wads of broccoli, fish cutlets and terrapin meat began flying from her mouth, shuttled through the air by gobs of spittle.  

"Expletive!" I swore as I wrenched myself dry.  "Is this what you ate last night?"

"Actually, the terrapin meat was three weeks ago," she blushed.

God, what did adolescents today think toothbrushes were for?  Goddamn twerps - inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale.

"Okay, let's have another go," I said.  "This time, just open your mouth real slow, okay?"

"Mhmm."  As she opened her mouth, a fresh wave of nauseating aromas invaded the atmosphere.  The clothespin wilted a little, but nevertheless held firm.  Good.

I peered cautiously into her mouth.  Stalagmites and stalactites of brine and hydrocarbon molecules rose up from between her teeth.  Gingerly, I began probing and scraping at them until - 

"There's... there's stuff swimming around your saliva," I said uncertainly.

"Oh, those?  They're sea monkeys," she replied.  

"Sea monkeys?!?"

"Yeah, I got them out of a magazine cut-out order form."  She stared at me intently.  "Is there something wrong?"

"Um, not really."  I tried to look unperturbed, and phailed superbly.  This girl was insane!  I took another glance at her cavernous mouth.

"Why are there barnacles growing on your braces!  Expletive!  Censored!  Boomz!" I screamed and backed myself against the wall.

"They're rich source of calcium.  I thought everybody knew that."  She got off the chair and started advancing towards me, a malicious glint in her eye.  Definitely Lucius Malfoy.

"Stay away from me!" I sobbed as I slumped onto the floor.  

"Why? Why? Why?"  she spat.  With each 'why', things began spewing out of her mouth and entering mine: artichokes, sardine, salmon, frisbees, blood, amphibians, gnats, beasts, diseases, boils, hail mixed with fire, locusts, darkness, dead Egyptian first-borns, 6 egg yolks, 1 cup of sugar, 2 cups of whipped heavy cream, 1/2 a cup of light rum, 5 egg whites, a pinch of salt, 1/3 a cup of sugar, 2 cups of milk, cooking spray, 2 cups of granulated sugar, and 1 teaspoon of corn syrup...

*o_O*

----

World's worst nightmare written by the world's worst writer.  Beat that Ryan! =D

Either my dentist had this dream just before she came to work, or I really do have Brad Pitt's face and Jesus' abs.  At any rate, she went "Oh my God" when I entered the room, and I'm pretty sure my shirt was tucked in and my fly was zipped.

Apparently my teeth have been growing the wrong way for quite a while because I accidentally purposely missed three appointments.  This means some severe corrections that will render me speechless for the next 365x80 days or so.  

Expletive.

Every time I glance downstairs I see Dad stealing Tim Tams from the fridge.  And I don't see Mum threatening to sell him off.  

Where's the fairness in that?

*Gah, who cares about fairness.  I just went down to get myself two Tim Tams anyway.*


Yeah!  Tim Tam the chocolatey breakfast cereal!  

They'd be my favourite biscuit if they weren't so awfully expensive. D=

It's been a wonderful day, what with the charity show and Royston Tan and highly amusing RGS ticket sellers.  Plus it's nice to have friends who also happen to be extremely good Chemistry teachers, even though I'm a really bad student who can't pay attention to an esters lesson without wondering if clothes are made up of cells or molecules.

There are so many little quirks and oddities in life that I wish I had more time to explore rather than sit in a classroom day after day absorbing information until our brains go boomz.  Mrs. Seow says that grades are immaterial, and Peiyi points out that we shouldn't really be bothered about marks unless we're communists, but fact is, grades determine my worth in society.  No Oxford interviewer is going to say, "Hey, let's take this guy in because he's got a funny Asian name!"  No country is going to say, "Let's make this guy our Prime Minister because he's got personality!"  That sort of thing only happens in Italy.

Even my parents have gotten into the whole voodooishy business.  Mum plans to pull some strings to get me an internship at A* Star because she thinks I still want to be a doctor, but honestly, with the Chemistry grades I'm getting, I'd rather that internship went to someone more deserving.  Even if I did persevere through a decade of medical wishwash (oh, the horror stories Dad's told me), I know I'd make a very bad doctor who'd end up killing more people than saving them.

At the moment, my grades aren't exactly the most optimistic of the lot.  I'm not all that okay with putting them on display here, but let's just say that if my grades were inversely proportionate to my parents' blood cholesterol levels, I'd be a very sad orphan right now.*

So if I'm not going to be a doctor, at least let me save those two lives.  

Mugging spree! =D

*Actually, surprisingly true.

My older sister was reading the Gucci catalogue during dinner.

Oh, she isn't the sort to covet handbags.  Her interests lie in the tomboyish realms of Lego and dominoes, and besides, she doesn't have any children for sale.

This might sound weird, but she was reading just to... read.

Okay, maybe not so weird.  Presumably you, monsieur or... monsieurette, are someone I know, and for the most part my life has been made up of people who are self-professedly unglamorous and uncool (but nevertheless Sweet and Understanding and Playful and Energetic and Responsible and Cute and Awesome and Likable and Intelligent and Funny and Romantic and Able and Gorgeous and Incredible and Lovable and Irresistible and Summery and Ticklish and ILUish and Cushy and Elegant and Xenodocial and Playful and Illuminating and Amazing and Lively and Interesting and Dreamy and Orange and Charismatic and Imaginative and Omnipotent and Ubiquitous and Squishable in their own ways) whose lives would just fall apart without literature. So you kinda know that devastated feeling when you don't have a book at hand.  (Unless you happen to be Chentian, in which case please update your blog thank you) 

Dinner at home has always been an oddly silent affair, because Dad doesn't like to talk much and Mum's banter just falls on I'll-just-pretend-to-be-listening ears, while the four of us immerse ourselves in the latest Stephanie Meyer drabble or Jamie Oliver cookbook.  Anything with words, actually.  

It's become a habit to read something while doing mundane stuff, because eating and toilet visiting can sometimes get so darn boring.  Admit it, sitting on the can and staring into blank space while waiting for miraculous biological processes to happen can get super frustrating.

So we read.  Books and comics and mousepads and Gucci catalogues and advertisements and instruction labels.  When I'm lazy to get a book in the morning during breakfast, I read the nutrition value label on the Koko Krunch cereal box.  

It's odd that my parents don't read anything except the teachers' comments in my progress report (just my luck, pfft), because their children are voracious readers who'd gladly spend their allowances on books if they didn't get massacred for that (my older sister secretly bought Handle With Care by Jodi Picoult, and boy is it addictive).

Maybe we were all adopted.  So that sixteen years on, Mum could sell us off for Gucci handbags.

So start now!  Read as voraciously as politicians deny, and you'll be on your way to quoting Kafka while procreating.

On a sidenote, 







Fly art! =D  Morbid, but adorable.