{ and we'll play summer on repeat;

Monday, March 30, 2009

hello, old friend. 5:42 AM

I dig my toes into the sand
the ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind; pretend that I am weightless
and in this moment I am happy
----

I am.
I really am.

1) People like Lisa and Amrit make school bearable.
I quote Lisa's blog:
"Mmm Cara, Amrit and I were pretending to be ah lians in the canteen, because someone walked past Cara just now and said: "ehhh, dat's de wan wif de ahmoh boifren".

K, firstly, it's ANGMOH. And then the rest of your pronunciation goes to hell."

Yeah yeah we apologize in advance for being pronunciation elitists/advocates of the Speek Goot Engrish campaign.

2) for a reckless little peter pan type who has inflicted such exquisite, undeserved pain on such liquid eyes:

"paws off
unless you're hands on
about this rabid reel life romance.

rich little boys think they can write off cheques
for all the angst-scribbled pages
for the money we've spent on pages that scream
"i hate him i hate him i hate him but wait---"
for the 2AMs we'll never get back.
for taking the virginity of our fingertips.

think again.

this is Singapore.
not an episode of Beverly Hills.

you are a monster.
but you are no Beast.

and this is her heart.
not
an onion. "

(if you don't get the last part-- lay off the table-thick CHEMISTRY 101 for a bit and check out a Carol Ann Duffy compilation at the library.)
Juvenile word-stew, I know, but it was the best I could do seeing as how it was also in the middle of a maths lecture and I was trying to get the hang of Cartesian functions while defending my friend's honour through poetic attackeration.

...Even at 4am, luv. Stay strong. <3
Remember: need no man; fear no bitch!

3) "...can I tell you? I miss you."
I miss you too Qiubacca.
Flashbacks to fervent staircase conversation and RsquareTsquare dreams and two little girls with big worlds to carry on their shoulders.
Love you, lost friend, come back soon. (:

4) Comments on changed FB r/ship status = moments of absolute hilarity.
Evoked the whole spectrum of reactions-- from wtfudge "say wha?!?!?!?" to "it's about time!" and "awww"s.

5) Kieran Ferrol says:
"and, tree doesn't suit ya, na? well, have u heard of homer's iliad? or seen the film Troy?
coz i'm sure if you asked nicely, we could do a production of that with you as Helen and Joe as Menelaus ;-)"

...The face that launched a thousand ships.
Yeah, I could deal with that.

Watching Troy till past homework time and laughing at all the Menelaus bits, just because.

6) Joe's indignant response to Kieran's casting suggestion:
"Menelaus? I have to be HIM, and Kieran gets to be Hector? D'you WANT me to come to this course? Huh?
Me=Aeneas.
You KNOW that."

:D

You know your social life is in trouble when the closest thing you've got to look forward to is mailing your IGGY app off to the UK tomorrow!

Despite my lack of a semblance of a social life, though; I'm still happy.
And nothing save maybe a historically seismic earthquake that wipes out the whole of the United Kingdom is gonna change that.

Not even the disturbing question of why the hell a random ahlianzxxx I've never seen before today or spoken to was gossiping about my apparent "ahmoh boifren omigord wan lor".

Ah, Facebook, you shameless paparazzi.

xxx

Thursday, March 26, 2009

hello, old friend. 6:59 PM

Yesterday somebody asked me if, presented with the opportunity and if your eyes were downcast and sincere and things were golden before,
would I take you back?

The very speed; the very brevity with which I replied startled me.
"No."

Caught after the word as it left my tongue, little alarm bells ringing really? really? really?
and I thought about it again, and I realized...yes; no. My answer stands.
That path was lovely but now I can barely see it for wildflowers swaying over the overgrown turnstile whispering "here lies what once was..."

It's strange, how every now and then little reminders peek with elfin eyes from dusty warehouse windows, but I'm okay with that I'm good at living with the past I am.

The best part is: it doesn't even hurt any more. I look back with fond eyes because we were so young(!) and how was I to know, I was only fifteen and everything I knew about love I'd learnt from glossy magazines.

So to you, no not you#1, you, the somebody who asked-- the boy with the dark acidwash jeans and the easy smile from hurting too much and the guitar on your knee;
remember what I said. Simple truth: ...be with who makes you happy.
I hope it goes well for you.

If I remember correctly, somewhere in my archives lies the line:
"...I believe summer will come again"
and it's true, I do still believe
just in a different way now.
Isn't it strange? And isn't it strange?

It's been so long, and I am so changed, and so doomed, and so happy for it!
One day at a time- that's the way I'm taking it, &

come Summer
I will be a living countdown
I will not talk I will tick the hours and the minutes and the seconds to twilight
I will breathe and the plumes I exhale will whisper "give us time, only time, only time..."
the world will run through my veins like technicolour caffeine.

that was then and that is dead and this is us and we are Now.

Monday, March 23, 2009

hello, old friend. 6:21 AM

"I am not ashamed. Or embarrassed. Or humiliated.
I have realized how much I would be willing to do for this crazy, dazzling, agonizing, brilliant sport.
I gave what I could give.
I ran when it hurt too much to.
I crossed the line.

and that, in itself, is what runners live for."

- (an excerpt from my archives, written after X-ctry nationals last year)
---

I looked back on that yesterday, and thought: tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow I have a debt to repay.

Surprisingly, I fell asleep pretty fast and with relative ease last night. No nerves, no butterflies, no nothing. Just a musing, matter-of-fact "...tomorrow's going to be painful" and then a resigned "oh well" and then I curled up and was lost to the world in a matter of minutes.

7.30AM saw us down at the stadium today- me falling asleep on the sleeve of a purple rugby shirt and with dreamscape tunes floating through the earphones
"forget your pain
forget your fear"
...warm ups and we smile for the New Paper, change into our new team jerseys, i scribble names on my wrists in purple ink so I remember who I'm running for.

9.45AM: starting line.
breathe in deep --> pain, up ahead!
the horn goes off.
muscles coil, spring for the kill. lengthen and slide over the contours of mud and bark and stone and it feels like an African stampede. all gazelles, all lions. it's eat or be eaten, overtake or be overtaken, fight back or bite the dust and everybody knows it.
...my mind has conveniently forgotten most of what happened in between the 3.8km route; retains only bits and pieces like the sound of gravel crunching underfoot, the long winding discouraging turns, the sound of a jetskiier skimming over water, the neon yellow of the girl I'm chasing.

...last 200m.
cheers and shouts from both sides.
cross the line.
cross the line.
cross the line.

...last 100m and my mind is one big static frequency.
"pretend you're Joe. Joe can sprint. ...So SPRINT!"
and I do; I plunge across the finish line and it's over, it's done, there are no tears of regret or disappointment or whimpered "but why didn't I's"-- just a pervading sense of peace.
and pain, of course. my shin feels fit to bust and my body's on fire but in the post-race haze I barely notice this.

NJC X-Ctry A Division Girls Team : Top 5
...well done, girls.
We've come so far. I'm proud of every single one of us.

...As for me- I came in lucky number 13th.
TOP 20-- thank you, God.
I've improved from last year's 71st position (that was disgusting + collapse at the end), and this year I was worried I wouldn't make it into the top 20 and was aiming for top 30, really-
but God, you've never failed me. never.

It's not so much the position I came in, though; but the fact that I crossed the line and stayed standing. *laughs* it may not seem like a lot to ask for-- but it matters to me.

post race pictures:

----

"The clock doesn't stop until you force it to.
That is the elegant beauty of track.
It is the simplest, and hardest, of sports.
Hear a gun go off, and run fast. That's the simple part.
The hard part is, run faster than anybody else out there.
This is the truth.
The clock will run until somebody makes it stop.
It might as well be you, don't you think?"

Sunday, March 22, 2009

hello, old friend. 5:42 AM

if you keep this up
at this rate
i may begin to be inclined
to believe you

Thursday, March 19, 2009

hello, old friend. 1:08 AM

daddy I'm so sorry, s-s-so sorry yeah
we just like to party; like to p-p-party yeah
---

...because I promised a graphically-charged update.

Hooker heelz. Not my cleavage; though I wish it was.

Move over, Scherzinger.

Too tired to tell all.
Basically:

- 11pm and long queues.
"oh, what a crowd. what a scene."
familiar faces in a snaking sea of boys in rimless wayfarers and ripped jeans and girls in Bardot-goes-bad bouffants.
"let's just ditch this thing and head off our own way."
--> beginning of a night less expected.

- we walk the city of spinning lights
and like a moth drawn to firelight; i am caught in the riff of drums and wild, resonant voices that croons around the corner- it snakes bronze-knuckled fingers around my wrist saying "sell your soul for rock n' roll"
and i've never quite been the type to barter over my afterlife
but i'm always up for a good time so we go in anyway.

- our little peruvian/barcelonian adventure.
"What're your names, then?"
"...Anya."
"My name? Umm. Uhhh. What's my name?"
"...Candy. Her name's Candy."
"oh yes that's right."
"I'm Jane."
"I'm Scarlett."
"...Kyra."

...National Peruvian Sailing Team? ...I think not, sugar.

- Decided to spend our night discovering New And Interesting People.
Benefits reaped: ...Free rides on the reverse bungee!
Thank you Fido and Samurai. (: Saved us about $200 worth of kaching in total.

- New friends and a new-old vice.
I remember this scene. Don't particularly want to go back to it, either.
So I leave them laughing and passing around and venture over to the other side; where Fido and Samurai recline like late night kings, a surly-looking girl in a mohawk picks silently at her Blackberry, an Irish bombshell- all dark hair and womanly curves- sits in leopard print and her elfin counterpart with Paramore hair watches me with animal eyes.

For coldweather people out on late nights, we warm up to each other pretty fast.

"I love your hair. Is it real? Can I touch it?"
...I get passed around the group and all of them reach for a lock of it; touch it; muse wistfully. I feel like some sort of exotic exhibit. "FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY."

"course it's real," I reply
and almost add on "...are you?"

Conversation I'm not used to; but I'm a chameleon, I am, I'm a regular Drama Club poster girl so this isn't as hard as it should be.
Mohawk girl becomes strangely protective.
Samurai glances over every half a minute,
Irish temptress recalls antics in a late night taxi with relish
and Erin the pitsy tipsy xixpie pixie gets up and starts walking on tables

Geisha lord makes me vaguely uncomfortable;
he never moves a muscle but seems to be watching
always
issues an imperial observation that makes the heat rush to my face.

"you've GOT to come with us"

and in those feline eyes I am vaguely reminded of WB Yeat's "The Stolen Child"-- a warning, maybe....?

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

- later on: silent, bridled anger.
they don't get it. i never should have. never again.
but for tonight, i will remain pleasant.
Samurai notices the cold spark in my eyes and offers me his jacket to keep out the chill.

- home, eventually.
empty promises to new acquaintances. we're from different worlds, sweetheart; there's no hope, there's no chance here.
collapse into the arms of quilts and pillows and the safety of lulled conversation at midnight. you were anaesthesized from a lack of sleep but like a spectre you drifted in to check if we were okay. for that i will be eternally grateful.

random bits that didn't fit in anywhere
because i couldn't be bothered
so here:

---

la vida sixteen is so last year.

d is for dangerous.

Monday, March 16, 2009

hello, old friend. 10:53 PM

Yes, I know; it's been about a millenia since I last blogged.

It's just-- so much has been happening. Bambambambambam. And you'd expect there to be some tragic "...BOOM" somewhere down the line...

So this is how my day since Sunday has gone:
AM: falling into nightclothes and not bothering to wash off heavy black eyes as we crumple into duvets and cold air. ragdolls don't become real girls when they're not wound up.
5-7AM: ...SLEEEP.
7AM: watch Factory Girl
7+AM: do GP homework. ...You can't ever kill the NJCian in the girl.
3PM: Facial
5PM: "I think maybe I'll just have a shorrrrt nap..."
6AM: Wake up and realize the time. Also that you've slept through 4 missed calls, 5 new messages, dinner, and a friend's party.
6-8AM: ring up Tam'eth
8-10.30AM: roll over and fall asleep again. Operating on UK timezones, are we now?

more updates and pictures soon.

---

She moved like a modern day Edie Sedgwick
sans silver pixie cut and black innocent-old eyes
She's got three years to go before the tragic death bit.
"you're pretty when you're drunk," I said, and she
she swayed leaflike for a breath's space
before somewhere through the haze her brain trembled,
struggled, forced open sticky lashes,
told her features: "smile"
and they did, they lit up the city.

"well,
you're beautiful
even
when you're not."
A lifetime between each word, each one longer than hers will ever be.

She started walking on the tables, and somehow the angels managed to hold her skirts down past her knees
as the girl with the mohawk and the honest, surly face's shoulder pressed closer to mine
the samurai shook back his hair and offered the use of an adidas jacket
and in the midst of all the mosquito conversation
and the profile of the boy trying to worm tendrils around my friend's next Friday night

the geisha lord
sat;
contemplated the scene through a cigarette
and how my lips would look like
burned.

Monday, March 9, 2009

hello, old friend. 8:42 AM

dear Adonis
when you see this
I hope you understand.
i know you were
a conquerer
but i am not your land

am not your Queen
I never was
and never will I be
have you not seen?
the way the shores
call me to the sea
and I will go

will follow
she's already by your side
to dry your tears;
tomorrow
is taken by the tide

and by the fall
the name you call
will have vanished in the sand
and i refuse
to have to choose
between pride and a man

so Adonis
remember this--
was not love;

i was never your land.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

hello, old friend. 7:44 AM

"we are beautiful, we are doomed" - los campesinos

By the light of the LED display of the VCR recorder
You kiss my neck, i whisper in your ear:
"this is my downfall"
As you squint and you grimace
We both know your heart's not in it

In the glow of a thousand fireflies
In a travelodge en-suite
They think the future's bright as halogen
We know it's pretty bleak
And i'm trying to be sexy
Biting at the air that falls in front of me.

The telegrams are more and more less detailed by the day
And all the characters are strangers
And the pubs have different names
I tell a joke, i'd like to meet them
But they'll loathe me and i'd hate them back

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
Fondness makes the absence longer
Length loses my interest
I'm a realist, i'm insatiable
So, ten days until i fly
But that was before your reply

You said, "he got his teeth fixed"
I'm gonna break them
I've got a heart on fire
You said, "he's got his sights set"
I'm getting to ya
I've got fists on fire

And you feel terrified at the thought of being left behind
Of losing everybody, the necessity of dying
Oh, we kid ourselves, there's future in the fucking
But there is no xxxxxxx future
I'm just practising my accents,
Picking at old sutures

I taught myself the only way to vaguely get along in love
Is to like the other slightly less than you get in return
I keep feeling like i'm being under-cut

Charlotte says it's more constructive than the one in canada
When you got drunk, ate loads of crisps
And threw up by a football pitch
I know it is, and really that's what worries me
I feel like i should hurt

You said, "he's got his teeth fixed"
I'm gonna break them
I've got a heart on fire
He said he's got his sights set
I'm getting to ya
I've got fists on fire

I cannot emphasise enough that my body is a
Badly designed, poorly put together vessel
Harbouring these diminishing, so-called vital organs
Hope my heart goes first, i hope my heart goes first!

And we are beautiful, we are doomed

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

hello, old friend. 7:42 PM

(during training):

Ben: But it's raining today so we can't do hill training. Imagine if we slipped and fell on our faces and slid all the way down on our faces.
Ash: *cringes* ...Foooo.
*turns to Qiu* So I guess you tried it, huh?

Estelle: Qiu; I'll buy you a drink if you bartop dance for me on that table.
Qiu: Only one drink?!?! Besides. I'm not gonna dance on tables like some bartender person.
Cara: ...Bartenders don't dance on tables.
Estelle: Actually Qiu, I take that back. I'll let you buy me two drinks to watch you bartop dance on the table.

Shalom: (addressing Hang (pronounced harhng, for the uninitiated/non Vietnam scholars): So how dyou spell your name?
Hang: H-A-N-G.
Shalom: WOW! So it's spelt H-A-N-G just like the way it's pronounced: "hung"!!!!!
Everyone else: *brief silence*
Ash: ...H-A-N-G is pronounced "hang".
Shalom: No!!!! H-A-N-G is pronounced......oh. Oh yeah.
Lawrence: *facepalm* What school dyou teach in, again?
Shalom: ACS.
Everyone else: *brief silence*
Ash: Oh. That explains some things.
---

(during Lit, when asked to analyze "The Red Badge Of Courage")
Amrit: *sighs* ...There's just something about men in uniform.
Our general row: I know, right?!?! *buzzbuzzbuzzbzzzz*
Whitby (from the front of the lecture theatre): ...Will the group of girls over there please stop waxing lyrical about their fantasies about men in uniform?
*gestures to NJ guys* There're plenty of men in uniform right here and theyyy don't seem to be doing anything for ya.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

hello, old friend. 10:35 PM

Monday I'm a bitch

Today I was affronted by somebody who left a big impression on me.
I suppose I can't really blame her for her makeup faux pas. I mean; it's not as if I'm Miss Matte Complexion myself-- but still, we can all try, can't we?
Look, I understand that you want to make an impact but is it really neccessary to go around looking like L'Oreal and ExxonMobil (that's one of the world's biggest oil companies, for those who weren't made to buy a year's subscription of The Economist for GP lessons) did a joint collaboration on your face?

Let's just say she brought a whole new level of meaning to the phrase "let your beauty shine".

Repeat after me, honey: touch ups, touch ups, touch ups.
Could you not invest in a little Clarins Hi-Def face powder, maybe? Or, since we're talking recession and all- a compact of that $2 Daiso pseudo-powder stuff? Flour? Ashes? ...Or, if all else fails- a big brown paper bag?

And we're not even talking clothes yet.
It's fine to choose to wear clothes 3 sizes too small/300 decades too young.
What's NOT fine is to let on that they are.

Remember- as Miley Cyrus says; Spanx are your best friend.
Look as if you're nine months pregnant? No problem. Just nip on a pair of Spanx, and-- voila! Instant waistline.
If you really can't get your paws on a pair of the miracleworkers, I'm sure Miley would be more than willing to lend you one, considering she's currently all on about her whole "i love Asians. Kawaii-nehh!" campaign now.
There was a picture I came across the other day that showed Miley posing for the cameras with a bunch of random Asians on the red carpet, post Miley-Cyrus-mocks-Asian-eyes/gets-into-photo-trouble...again controversy.

...Honestly?
Just look at that. What is the girl trying to prove?
If anything, her expression looks more like "...why do these people smell of chop suey?" than a sincere apology.

Speaking of which.
What's up with that, anyway? C'mon- the girl was having a little bit of FUN. Yeah, FUN. You know- the kind of thing they used to do back in the sixties.
Sooo, having a bit of fun- aand she happened to rather inconveniently have an Asian friend right beside her. Random coincidence.
Miley's funny face = slanty eyes = mockery of all Asiankind? ...Uhh. I don't think so, people.
I mean- when ah lians pile into the neoprint machines and start doing those weird kawaii poses where they open their eyes to make them look as big as half their face; does anyone sue them for mocking Elijah Woods?
IMO, everyone's blown the whole sitch way outtuv proportion and okay so the Asian guy does look a little "...the fudge?!" next to all the white kids doing weird things to their eyes in the picture but that's probably just because he's so stoked that he's all down with Miley Cyrus, y'know, and probably can get his paws on them Hannah Montana freebies and stuff.

*takes breath* *

...WOW.

Mondays really AREN'T my best look.

hello, old friend. 3:30 AM

"Signal when you get to the top
Signal when you want me, when you want me to stop
We could, we could crash; we could we could burn burn
We could take it; we could we could take it take it in turns"

----

tomorrow's Monday and I'm not much looking forward to the week.

I keep remembering one particular entry in my diary-- just one exuberant line from some time back, declaring with wicked, alive eyes: "...so bring on Monday!!" and I wish I could face the coming weeks in the same way.

Oh well.
At least there's the Bratpack to brighten up the general greyness.
Last week we were poring over Cleo,
Cara: *points to makeup look* "...Omg that is so Ah Lian Goes To Far East."
Amrit: :O "I love you."
Lisa: "Where've you been for the past two years??"

and poring over Cleo's Most Eligible Bachelors (HA, my arse) List and with names like Isaku Lim, baby, you're never gonna get very far.
I suck you limb; you suck mine?

Last night was spent yabbering to IGGY people as per Saturday nights: Joe, Jag, Toni, Kieran...I never knew Kieran was an extra in Harry Potter srsly how awesome.
IGGY Kenyans FTW!
oh +++ doing my History essay. I actually finished it, which I'm really rather proud of..

Technology FTW.
We are such sad losers, srsly. We're already planning for the Summer U song...and Summer U apps haven't even come out here. (cue collective "oh here we go agaaaain" sigh from my long-suffering local buddies...)
I miss my Pippi Longstocking. Smileyfaces, Sugar magazine, jetplanes and horoscopes hurrah these are a few of our faaaavourite thingzzz.

Scrolling through messages from long ago in my inbox and some of them never fail to crack me up. Every time.
Like this:

"...which i suppose is to be expected seeing as i do have a tendency to 'talk cara' a bit too often! Still, it's quite amusing! Some great quotes that have come of it,

"What's the point, mate? She lives in China!" Dec

"Are people from Singapore Singaporean or Malaysian?" Sophie
"Singaporean. People from Malaysia are Malaysian." Me
"Malaysia is a country???" Sophie

And my personal favourite...
"Are you seeing your new girlfriend on valentine's day?" Mike
"She's not my girlfriend Mike. And even if she was, she lives in Singapore." Me
(Long Pause)
"So?" Mike

...My friends are idiots, y'see."

I've realized that this whole pseudo thing actually works for me.
Though everyday I learn a little better how to let go while hanging in there.
Wow. Am I a masochist, or am I a masochist?

And. You #17; just for future reference-- anything pertaining to noodles/lingerie/especially MINE generally does NOT make for well-received conversation starters...
...just so you know.

I've been swimming lots over the weekend cuz of my be-damned shin splint and I swear I've turned about thirteen shades darker. If you don't use flash on your camera you probably won't be able to see me!
okay okay I exaggerate.
But I swear I'm a walking ad for skin cancer. I h8 sunblock with a vengeance >/
I blame my mother. You know how mothers used to apply sunblock for us when we were little? Those same fingers who tenderly changed your nappies and crossstitched "YOUR NAME HERE'S ROOM" and massaged olive oil into your delectably crushable little baby scalp become absolutely LETHAL when armed with a bit of SPF protection.

Mum: "Hold stilllll."
You: *squirms*
Mum: "Hold still! I PROMISE I'll do this carefully."
and then you resign yourself to your fate and stop wriggling around and wait for the white-smudged fingers to come closer, closer, closer...and then the next thing you know you've got half the bottle of sunblock up your nostrils and the rest haphazardly smeared onto your face.
You: *swipes at evil hand* *protests*
Mum: "I'm doing it carefully!!!"
You: *are promptly half-blinded as Mum proceeds to poke sunblocked fingers into both your eye sockets*

----

MONDAY
I COMMAND THEE
GO BACK INTO THE ABYSS FROM WHENCE YOU CAME