don't cross my path and act like we are strangers

ten things.
[Tue, Jan 16, 07 / 10:12pm]
List ten things you want to say to ten random people, but you know you never will say these things to them. Don’t say who the comment is meant for, and use people only once.

1. Even if we don't contact each other for ten years, the friendship between us shall never fade. That's how strong our bonds are. You are like the sister that God forgot to include when He was writing my 'siblings' name-list'.

2. Sometimes I wish you can be happy. Other times, it feels like I am willing to sacrifice my own in order to exchange for your happiness. Just be happy, damnit! If only it were that easy.

3. Sometimes I hate myself for forgiving you so quickly, only to find that the pain still lives in my heart.

4. I hate you. I hate how you are childish, whinish, and a flippant friend whose loyalty flips over faster than a coin.

5. These days, I look at you and start to ponder where is the smiling and cheerful gal who never failed to give me a helping hand when I was faced with life's uncertainties...when did that part of you die without you even realizing it, or do you even realize it at all?

6. I hate you. I hate how you dominate my life so much so that even after so many years I still want you as my best friend. Where have all the letter-writing, the nightly phone chats, the movie dates, the noisy banter between us vanished to? Why has that banter been reduced to such a pathetic state even less audible than a whisper? It seems that the bonds of our friendship have loosened like an unwitting piece of cloth whose fabric has woven apart, lending conviction that the fabric wasn't very tightly knit in the first place. I hate how my friends never stop updating me about your news, how my friends around me remind me how close I was to you, I hate how the envy of one can now turn into a stabbing pain in the recesses of my heart, and I even more hate how you have a new best friend now. Hurl abuse at me, curse me, swear at me! So at least I can be sure that the friendship between us existed in real life, and not just merely as a figment of my imagination. Damn. Just be my best friend all over again. Don't cross my path and act like we are strangers again.

7. I like you. I like you for something that goes far beyond aesthetic appeal and flamboyant adulation.

8. I wish that our friendship didn't revolve around superficial trash and I dislike how you blame me for not keeping in contact, when you have conveniently failed to do the same, citing 'studies' as the most primary reason. Don't ever say things like 'I thought you died' to me. Ever. Again.

9. I think back about the time you said to me, "I've never had a close friendship with anyone that lasted beyond the time we spent in school." And, oh, I wish I could change all that.

10. Sometimes, I wish that your vulnerability isn't restricted only to falling victim into The Devil's (read: depression) hands, then go on to demonstrate the strength of your willpower by building up a wall to hide all the emotional pandemonium stirring inside. I wish you wouldn't be so harsh on yourself. Build a door. Then let others in.

Nokia's latest marketing gimmick

I was pleasantly surprised when I stepped into the bus this morning and was greeted by a not-so-familiar sight.

A wave of striking red and white combination, a playful juxtaposition of two very prominent colours, each scrambling for my attention.

In place of the usual red seats were plush designer leather chairs.

There was even a tiny makeshift 'bar' with a white 'bar-top' to complete the whole elegant bar affair.

It's a pity then that the most complexing creatures on the bus remained the same, unaffected poise. People were comfortably ensconed on their chairs, wearing the same expressions that I witness everyday: Nothing. Or maybe bored. Then there are those catching a nap, listening to their iPods, staring blankly into space.

As I write this I turn and see a girl, whose books were placed incongruously on the 'bar-top', yawning oafishly. I thought of how my friend once said that a girl, no matter how gorgeous or pretty, would appear ugly to her if her mannerisms so much as dictate her to yawn in public without covering her mouth.

Instead of the usual news broadcast telecasting on TV Mobile; TV Mobile was unceremoniously switched off, and in its place was a Nokia Music TV set, which was airing a series of nokia ads.

Flamboyant nokia ads donned every nook and cranny of the bus.

Apparently, this is the latest marketing gimmick by the intelligent folks at Nokia.

I thought it would be amusing to see the looks on people's faces as they boarded the bus, but apart from an initial quizzical once-over, each bedraggled commuter that boarded the bus sported the same worn-out look.

It seemed perfectly normal then that the most excited ones on the bus were two Filipino maids who giggled like two giddy schoolgirls, as both made cursory glances and one gesticulated pointedly at the pure white designer chairs.

Also, in place of the usual neat and orderly arrangement of the chairs, were chairs of various nature placed in differing and strategic positions. There were relax chairs and luxury chairs, all pearly white, which could be rotated 180-degrees clockwise. The plushness of the chairs could give Angelina Jolie and her lips a run for her money.

And the usual dull gray that lined the windows of the bus, had an extra smart suit embellished over them, made of red velvet felt material.

Now, don't you wish you had been in that bus?

And so they think she's lucky because she's rich

But they couldn't be further away from the truth.

I was having a conversation with this classmate of mine. The thing is, the both of us are 'perceived' to be the richest among the lot in the class, an honour we would be quick to refute and are very much undeserving of, thank you very much.

Ironically, this classmate kept bugging me with questions laden with hidden meaning. For an instant, I felt like I was being transported back to my secondary school's science laboratory and had an experiment conducted on me, a litmus test to 'determine' how rich I am. (May I also add how pitiful the unwilling victim, yours truly, is.) Dissecting my 'insides' and 'poking' through loopholes just so I could come out and say, "Ok, I confess. I'm rich. In fact, my father is a billionaire. (So not true at all.)"

Excerpts from our conversation:

him: You know, that day, my parents wanted to give me and my brother a supplementary card each. But, of course, I couldn't except it!
smartyypants69: Why not?
him: Are you crazy? I will spend all my parent's money away! Even though sometimes I can cover up with excuses like, you know, I'm buying clothes for the new year and my parents will most likely close an eye...but I will waste my parents money lah! And, besides, if I get a supplementary card, I will have to pay all the bills myself!

The conversation carries on until he started 'accusing' me of being rich, and we started a verbal war tirade of sorts, each trying to 'prove' that they were the poorer one.

smartyypants69: I'm very poor lah, please!
him: Yeah, right. Dun bluff!
smartyypants69: Ok, how much do you have in your wallet right now?
him: Er...10 bucks.
smartyypants69: Yeah, right.
him: Serious...(starts taking out his wallet)
smartyypants69: (brushes his comment off lightly) Oh, wait...you must have some sort of credit card with you or something right? (like, duh, all rich people do.)
him: No, I don't, really. I'm like really broke right now.
smartyypants69: Ok, so how much allowance do you get from your parents a week?
him: Er...like around...50 bucks.How about you?
smarttypants69: See?! (gives him a 'duh' look) I get less allowance than you! Minus bus fares to top up my ex-link card, I get 40 dollars a week.
him: So, what about if you don't minus it off?
smartyypants69: $60.
him: Yeah, right. You're such a liar. Ok, show me your watch?
smartyypants69: (hides tattered and torn watch away from him) No!
him: (persistent in an irritating mosquito-kinda-way) No, let me see..
smartyypants69: (hides watch behind computer in a desperate attempt to conceal the embarrassment of being seen in public with a watch whose strap had ripped all the way, and considers for a brief moment, to sit on it.)
him: Is it a watch from Ralph Lauren or ... (starts rambling off names of designer watches) (he starts thinking that I have a watch that costs $10,000 ensconed snugly on my wrist)
smartyypants69: No! It's a watch that I bought for four dollars! FOUR SINGAPORE DOLLARS! (sticks out four fingers at his face as though he is illiterate or something)

***

You're such a liar.

So, basically the highlight of the conversation, with him labelling me "a liar" just because I say I'm poor, is that he doesn't believe what I say just like how I don't trust him when he says he's broke. (He probably has a secret bank account in Switzerland or something that he withdraws cash urgently from.) As you can see for youself, the conversation consists mostly of "Yeah, right" since the both of us have sneaking suspicions about the validity of the other party's claims.

A friend of mine once openly mulled over why the rich people in our class couldn't come out of our closet in the same open fashion as the gay celebrities (think N*Sync's Lance Bass and Westlife's Mark Feehily) in Hollywood do.

Well, the reason is simple. We don't want to be seen as different. We want to be cliquey, and certainly do not need people to put us in a different category or start treating us in a different way. Neither do we need to be placed on an invisible pedestral just because "oh, he's so flithy rich".

At the end of the day, it's a never-ending debate.

Although I shall insist that he's the richer one.

***

Btw, just in case curiousity is killing you right now...I bought the watch at Bangkok for 100 baht, equivalent to 4 Sing dollars. It has since torn apart but I still proudly dorn it on my slender wrist because I feel it accentuates my perfection for beauty (vomits) and suits me very well (er....for a start...it is very fat..I can think of one person who would agree with me, and her name starts with A. Coincidentally, she's the sexiest girl in my school also, and I feel very priviliged that she notices me enough to call me 'fat'.)

Meet my boyfriend, the accessory

So, how many times have you come across girls who stick to their boyfriends tighter than elephant glue, like as though they are a limb that grows out of their boyfriend. You see them hanging around with each other so often that you confuse them with the Siamese twins. It's not surprising anymore, and like a fabulous piece of clothing article or a new charming bracelet, the girl wears her love for her boyfriend on her sleeve for all and sundry to witness.

True everlasting love or an essential accessory, like your latest Nokia handphone model that you never leave home without?

Similarly, like clinching a book deal is testament to a writer's worth, securing yourself a boyfriend is validation that you have the charms, you have what it takes to make a guy want you to be his girlfriend. You silently laugh and cast a disparaging glance over your shoulder at the unattached singletons and recommend that they go to SDU (Sad, Desperate, Ugly).

Hence, newly-attached folks will be very eager to flaunt their non-singleton status as soon as their said status is cemented. For some, it is an ego trip sparked off by years of being alone, wondering if one is unattractive to the opposite sex.

In other cases, it is ignited and fueled by a feeling of pride, they show off their boyfriends in the same manner that a seven-year-old kid shows off his trophy to his mum. "Look, ma! I won first prize in the swimming contest!" Which, in a way, makes him superior or on par with others. Otherwise, insecurity and self-esteem issues bugs him like a pimple on an adolescent's forehead that won't seem to go away.

Boyfriends have become a form of currency to one's self-worth. The more you accumulate, the more 'market value' you have. Because it proves that you're in demand, damnit! A cursory glance over any teenage magazine, and you see teens mourning their singleton status to Aunt Agony.

"Why, oh why, when my friends are all attached, am I the only one still single? Is there something wrong with me? Am I unattractive? Am I not pretty enough? Am I not well-liked? If not, why am I the only one in my clique that is still unattached? What must I do to get myself a boyfriend? Start having sex?"

OK, I added that last sentence in myself. But, that's what teenagers are doing today to 'prove' their love. Not sure about their love, but they have successfully proven their stupidity.

But, seriously, the absence of a boyfriend has become a very real problem for teenage girls, especially in this increasingly shallow society.

Think about this: A woman in her 30s, financially secure, she has a group of good buddies that she hangs out frequently with, but if she doesn't have a boyfriend or isn't married, ugly names like 'spinster', 'widow' or maybe 'So grounchy, no wonder no one wants to marry her" starts surfacing, sprouting out rapidly like mushrooms in the presence of 'fungus and bacteria' (public opinion).

What more even so in the context of a 19-year-old girl, at an age where one is grappling with a mountain of insecurity issues, at an age where even a pimple can provoke the license to stay at home all day long, where vanity issues reign supremacy in one's waking hours.

It doesn't help at all when one is living on a pile of superficial trash that is Planet Earth, where people would rather bring a mirror than say, a compass or survival kit, if stranded on an island. Where a beauty queen's first thought upon consciousness after a serious car accident is to ask the nurse to bring her the mirror, where...

A boyfriend is this season's must-have, a trend that is increasingly gaining momentum. Having a boyfriend is cool, is fashionable, is the 'in' thing!

And this trend?

It never goes out of fashion.