你对我的想法，请不要停留在两年前。

我不再是那个低着头走路的那位女孩。
我不再是那个摆着一张苦瓜脸的那位女孩。
我不再是那个可以一整天说不上两句话的那位女孩。

我比以前自信了一些。
我比以前开朗了一些。
我比以前多话了一些。

现在的我。变了。
我变得不再给人欺负了。

只是，人对另一个人的想法太固执。
你可能变了。
但是，外人对你的看法还停留在两年前。
But, the human's mind is stubborn.
You may have changed as a person, but the hearts of other people's perception is unwilling.

Being an outcast for my years in secondary school, I think it was rather unexpected that I decided to go back, the second time in two years.

When a friend asked why, my reply was that I wanted to relive my memories spent there, both good and bad. But, for the most of it, the bad. I wanted to relive myself of all the bad memories, so that I wouldn't forget what good a position I am in now. Not very good, it seems. But, at the end of it all, I guess I got more than I bargained for. And, like for every event that a creature of habit adds on to my list, it never did turn out good. Instead, it left a tingling bitter sensation in me.

这是不是报应？
以前对别人的不理不睬，换来他们今日的冷淡。

看着他们对我朋友180 度转变的态度，
坦白说，我不喜欢一窝锋迎面而来的情绪。
羡慕与嫉妒，只限一线之差。
我不想自己踏过那微妙的线条。

太迟了。
我才发现是我过去几年留给人家的印象。

And, once an impression of you has been formed in someone else's mind, it becomes almost impossible to break that mould.
And, when everyone expects that of you, you sink into the comfort of that mould.
But, is that what you really want?

How many times have you heard someone saying, "That's so unlike you."
Do you feel a flare inside you then, demanding to know what then is the real you, and when others have created boundaries and restrictions to the way you can or cannot behave.

You feel a need to prove them wrong.
That there is something in you, a side that few or no one has seen.
That there is a wealth of information one has to discover in you.
And, that, you are not as predictable as it may seems.

人的脑类似一个memory card,
可是，他们忘了，储存起来的资料是不会变。
可是，人不是一个 constant，永远在变。
所以，你对他人的 impression 不应该是一个 stagnant。

Maybe, it's time to think of others on a clean slate. Wipe off all bad memories of that person, and pretend you're meeting a stranger for the first time. Only when you let go of those 'false' impressions, then can you create freedom for that person to act differently, and only then can you create a renewed impression of that person.

George Bush is an idiot

I've always had a grudge against the way the media works in Singapore. It's really the government's mouthpiece, and a true indication of that would be the extensive coverage dedicated to PAP in The Straits Times during the General Elections 2006, and the striking constrast of the pathetic column inches alloted to the oppostition parties.

Then, take a look at what was being reported in the ST during that same period, placing the PAP on an invisible pedestral and in a postive light. Apparently, the public are rather discontented with the way the media works in Singapore, in particularly, its censorship. During the ST's coverage of the GE, complaints from the public kept rolling in.

There are so many invisible border markers drawn out for the local media, and most industry practitioners practise self-censorship.

While a foreigner may take huge pride and forsake his stable job and pay check in the name of journalistic integrity (which, apparently, one did), you hardly see Singaporeans doing the same.

The furthest a Singaporean would ever go would probably be to grumble about the media system and the extensive control the government has over it. And, the next day, you see him or her reporting for work at 8.30 in the morning.

Most are scared to burnt their asses.

Recently, I had a chat with the director of one of the top universities in Australia. He confirmed the above fact. And, interestingly, this is what he had to say:

"You can't write about critical issues in the local paper. But, in America, the system works differently. You can say that the Prime Minister is an idiot, and you wouldn't have to worry about losing your job or going to jail."

You blog about racism in Singapore, and if you're lucky, you get to see your picture in the ST on front page news the next day, along with the headline, "Racist blogger convicted in Singapore". And, if you strike gold, you get free accomodation for the next few months at least. Don't expect the five star treatment, though, you'll be lucky enough to get toilet paper to wipe your ass.

I would like to cite a particular scenario over here that took place sometime ago.

This important figurehead of Singapore went overseas, and during his trip there, made a statement to the foreign press.

When he came back, he spoke to the local media officially regarding this particular incident. Apparently, he had gotten his facts wrong, and made an incorrect biased accusation against an overseas organization.

Subsequently, this young reporter from a local newspaper reported on his statement. There was nothing wrong in her published article as she said everything as it was. It was very well straight reporting, with quotes gotten straight from the horse's mouth.

When the foreign organization came to know about the incident (presumeably from the local press), they issued a statement to clarify that the facts had been taken out of context, and were in no way accurate.

This young reporter was called to tea, along with the Editor and those who were indirectly responsible for the coverage of the press statement.

They were taken to task. While the rest were being fired, the reporter got to keep her job. However, she had her press license revoked and was banned from ever being a reporter for the local publications any longer. She was being assigned to another department.

Logically speaking, this reporter has done absoutely nothing wrong. She was at the mercy of the stringent laws that govern the local press, and an unwilling victim in the process.

The government is forever encouraging Singaporeans to be more creative and innovative entrepreneurs. But, at the same time, they put laws here and there.

How are Singaporeans going to put their creative juices to full use if they are always worrying about whether they are going to be penalized for what they say or write or blog? Any typical Singaporean adult would likely just involuntarily subscibe to this system rather then put their pay-check at risk.

Instead of paying lip service by telling us to be creative and think out of the box, the government might actually consider DOING something.

They could start by scrapping off ridiculous laws.

Like the toilet flushing fine.

Get A Room, Pls

So, you are single, happy, and you just want a peaceful night out with your girlfriends. You happily board the bus, and beep beep! your handphone rings. You reply to your friend's sms, and when you look up, a couple have boarded the bus and they are standing just right in front of you.

Something seems oddly out of place, and you turn to look down. The guy's hand is placed rather inconspicuously on the girl's bum, and they are flirtatiously displaying acts that centuries ago, belonged solely to the bedroom.

Since then, this tradition has walked out of the bedroom and into places like public transport and your friendly neighbourhood store. (Which makes it not so friendly anymore.)

So, my eyes had the very ill-fate of witnessing the above erm..indecent act. And, if that was not enough, the guy proceeded to remove his hand off the girl's butt....AND SLAP IT! After which, the guy smiled cheekily at the girl, who returned the favour with a nonchalent look on her face.

Just some time back, I boarded the MRT and there was a couple who were hugging each other tightly even before I entered the train. The girl was talking, and they looked like a normal couple having a conversation, until the guy started kissing the girl all over; her hair, her forehead, her nose, her ears, her cheeks, and about every inch of skin on her face. He did it continuously, all this time while the girl was busy talking.

Can you imagine?

Girl: And, oh hunny, (kiss nose) I was (kiss face) coming (kiss cheek) back from (kiss hair) the supermarket the other day (kiss nose, face, cheek and hair)...

I couldn't help thinking that they were so yang berani in a public area, what more if...?

Tata Young @ St.James Power Station

There were the touchy-feely couples (who pinched each other butt's in public), the girls on their night-out, the scruffy ah-bengs, the Caucasians, the professional cameramen and hobbyists, and then there was me.

There were the mini-skirts, japanese-looking sequined tops (where you tie a ribbon at the back), high heels and ankle boots, spiked-stiletteos and bf/gf accessories, and then there was me with my torn bag and handy jeans.

To be fair, I wasn't the only one left out, even though I was the only one VISIBLY left-out, because I maintained my standing as the only one who didn't have another human being with me for company.

But, still, I felt super left-out alongside my fellow human beings living on the same planet Earth as me, because I was this super geeky nerdy student waiting in queue alongside other hot babes anticipating a hot babe's showcase.

Well, my first impression of this hot babe, Tata Young, was her first hit single "Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy" which drew flak from her fellow countrymen because the sexy and slutty image she was projecting was against the conservative nature of her countrymen in Thailand.

Even though she seemed a bit "wild", I've always thought that it had nothing to do with her nature, and everything to do with the marketing gimmicks that are reigning supremacy in her wardrobe choices that screams "diirrrttyyy".

But, if anyone ever thought that she was gonna be the next Christina Aguilera for a second, they wouldn't be too far from the truth.

Nothing nice and all spice. She had undergone the sudden tranformation from seemingly innocent girl-next-door with attitude into this wild chick who wouldn't bat an eyelid at getting down and dirrrttyyy.

In case you have no idea whatsoever what I'm rambling on about, they were showing re-runs of Tata Young's music videos just before her public appearance.

For the uninitiated, her music vids bordered on the edge of obscenity and looked just inches short of a porn movie. For someone open-minded (ahem) like me, I actually felt embarrassed for a moment to be watching such things in public , what with all the zooming in on her boobies, her suggestive moves, all very low-class and crass! In my opinion, that is.

And, I couldn't stop thinking about this. Blessed with a pretty face, powerful vocals and an amazingly strong stage presence for someone her age, (although I must say, she has been in the music industry for an incredibly long time, since she was 14) is there really a need for Tata Young to flaunt her sexuality so blatantly in her music vids?

Hailing from Thailand, and touted as the A-Mei of Thailand and one of the most successful record-selling Eurasian artistes in the Asian Market, selling millions of albums to date, she deserves a slate-clean image. For a start, it could score her brownie points with the people from Thailand.

However, her company saw it fit to feature risque images of her in her bra/bikini-clad slender frame in various stages of undress. She looked as though she were masturbating to the camera(man).

What with images of her frolicking under the sun at the beach and then proceeding to tease millions of guys out there by lifting her shirt mid-drift, prowling on the bedroom carpeted floor in pussycat fashion while donning sexy pink satin lingerie, licking her own reflection in the mirror seductively, drenching herself wet and very suggestively in water pouring like rain in the er...bedroom (apparently, she pulled out the plug which might have explained this unusual phenomenon happening in the most unusual of places. Kids, don't try this at home).

Tata Young is the embodiment of everything sexual in a girl, and she does not hesitate to let you know this simple fact through her pouty mouth and come-hither looks which she has mastered to perfection as evident in her music vids.

When I finally left St.James, I left with a cigarette-stained tee, no thanks to the hard-core smokers aplenty.

Thank You

Thank you for all your comments.

Well, initially, I had adjusted my comments option to be moderated upon. Meaning, readers who post comments on my blog will have to gain my approval first before the comment goes up.

Because I had not clicked on the option that requests for an email informing me that a comment has been left on my blog by so-and-so, and logging into your blog account does not automatically inform you about this, I was unaware of the over 30 or so comments left by readers in my blog over the past months.

The reason I'm posting this is because many of those readers who left comments on my blog were strangers! Imagine my surprise!

The comments were obviously not ad-targeted or shameless advertising. Because they did not come with a note like, "Come visit my blog at www...."

Some of the comments were that the idea for my blog was unique, and basically praises lavished and heaped upon the webmaster of this blog, me!

Hohoho, I had no idea anyone else besides my friends who would have taken such a curious interest in my blog, so thank you for all your comments, strangers.

I'm No Artificial

Pampered kid, that is.

Because everyone who knows me know how pampered I am due to my upbringing, and some of my friends have even resorted to calling me "princess".

Now, someone please tell me, since when did "princess" have to be at someone's beck and call to pick up shreds of rubbish from the ground?

Which was exactly what I was ordered to do today.

Well, in my long (and sad) existence on earth thus far, I have earned the dubious honour of having to deal with all sorts of bullies: ah-lians, china women, classmates.

But, I've always had a problem dealing with a certain bully.

Teachers!

Supposedly an authoritarian figure and the one expected to be freed from any bias, they are far from that. And, when they decide to abuse their power, I am at a loss as to how to best deal with them without risking an 'F' grade.

So, when my teacher ordered me to be manual labour: moving tables and chairs; and picking up rubbish left behind by my very considerate classmates, I had to obediently do so.

Which brought back very unhappy memories.

When my teacher asked me to sweep the floor in Primary 6.

Fine, by me.

The only problem was that I didn't know how to sweep the floor. As my palms began to sweat, my firm grip on the broomstick remained as I frantically stole a few glances at my other classmate's "sweeping techniques".

Unfortunately, my clumsy and stiff hand movements never escaped the trained eyes of my teacher, who said,

"Aiyoh! You know how to sweep floor one anot!"

My butter fingers (literally) hopelessly clutched onto the wooden stick, as my hands gesticulated in a series of awkward movements that cannot even be constituted as "sweeping".

After a series of chiding from my teacher, during which my palms started sweating and "embarassment" was scribbled all over my face, my teacher snatched the broom from my hands and said,

"You floor also don't know how to sweep ah! Let me teach you!"

And so, the above scenario played like an endless DV tape recorder in my mind, while I picked up shreds of tissue paper from the floor.

Confessions of a Languish Soul

There is 1 successful suicide attempt in Singapore each day.

When will I ever become that statistic?

Unless you are one yourself, you never really know.

That person could be anyone, a classmate, a relative or even someone closer to home. You could be living under the same roof as him or her, but you never really get to delve into this side of them. Simply because they rarely or never display such emotions openly.

Ever wondered what goes through the head of a perpetually sad person?

* Here is a true-life account of a languish soul who shall not be named to protect his privacy.

I go through my life rarely feeling any form of happiness. Sadness is almost a permanent fixture in my life, it is my friend, my confidante, my soul mate. It is my most reliable companion, and also the one that I hate the most. Yet, the more my hatred for it grows, the more I seek comfort and solace in its companionship. Simply because it is the only one that truly understands me.

Life is a dread. I especially hate going to school, I have to drag my reluctant feet to school every morning. The mere thought of going to this "prison hell" instills both fear and sadness in my heart.

I often have suicidal thoughts. I constantly get the feeling that I am useless, and my existence on earth is merely draining other more worthy, contributing members of society of natural resources, like air, water and food.

Even though I'm still young, I often think about how it is like to lay in a coffin, its lush and comfy confines and be forever removed from the eternal hell that is Earth.

I think about how it is like to live a life of a human being without any emotions, freed from feelings of hurt, betrayal and loneliness (emotions I experience on a daily basis). I would feel no pain, no hurt, never again will I have to endure the feeling of loneliness.

I will be like a puppet who mindlessly obeys his master's command. The master is my life and my body is its puppet, going through the daily motions of life without living it.

The daily motions of life. That's what I have to go through every day. I question my existence on earth, and such feelings of doubts intensified after a loved one of mine died. I don't know what I am living for. I have my dreams, my ambitions, but sometimes the overwhelming feelings of sadness drains away any remnants of aspiration. What is a human being without any dreams and inspirations?

As I mentioned earlier, I often have suicidal thoughts. On good days, my mind may be freed of such thoughts. But, on bad days, it can occur on a half-hourly or hourly basis. I wouldn't say that it has affected the calling of my life majorly, but it has had an overwhelming, drastic impact on my emotions. You know how draining emotions can be sometimes.

I've heard of the "trend" of teenagers cutting their wrists, hoping to make use of physical hurt to cover their emotional pain. Even though I don't condone such behaviour, I can understand the pain that led them to take such actions and cause bodily harm to their fragile selves.

I've never had the courage to slash my wrists, but once in a while, I press a penknife or scissors to my wrist. Nothing further than that. My mind does the rest of the work, imagining my blood flowing freely and letting go.

For those of you who think they are merely being foolish and silly for causing bodily harm to themselves, a bigger issue to consider would be what went wrong, rather than blame anyone. Though, I would advise teenagers not to do that, because it really doesn't solve anything. Why not confide in a friend? It always makes one feel a lot better.

I hope never.