Vivien ♀ Twenty one (21) English Literature Major ✎ A Gleek ♬ I love you like a love song

It's one of those very very depressing, whiny, self-important, emo-shitzzz and cathartic posts again. Please don't torture yourself by reading it. It contains nothing funny or insightful and simply proves that I'm an idiot with nothing worthwhile to say.

I think I'm in one of those moods again. The type which makes you depressed, melancholic and lonely. Also the type which makes you cynical and pessimistic about everything.

I don't really know why I'm feeling so blue, but I probably can list some reasons which may have attributed to that.

1) I cannot fucking blog about anything. It's writer's block at its worst. Every time I turn on the laptop I feel like I've got tonnes of things to blog about as attempts to achieve some sort of catharsis. Then my post would end up to be one of those self-defeatist, whinging sort of post which you're all sick of and which put me to shame for being such a useless brat. So I keep those in my drafts, hoping that that side of me will never see the light of day.

2) I have no friends. Technically this isn't true, if you sound those small-talk work people as "friends". And then I'm going to do the whole "all of them are nice people" thing again. Yeah, it is true, I'm sure all of them are nice people, but I cannot do this! I cannot assimilate myself into the environment. Plus it's not like they're not lunching with me or anything; I have gone to lunch with a bunch of more experienced interns without feeling the need to dig a hole for myself and/or slashing my wrists. It's my problem actually. I think I subconsciously avoid any contact with any of the people in the office. I try to disappear when it's lunch time, so usually I'd end up buying some crap from 7-11 and sitting in the lobby reading the day's papers. If it weren't so pathetic I'd actually try to do some of my self-defeatist/deprecating crap here.

3) I have no friends. As in, outside of work, I'm not even meeting anybody anymore! It's like now that I'm working everyone else is also simultaneously busy. They don't even have time for dinner anymore, and nobody asks me out to do anything. When that happens I slowly melt into a puddle of melancholy, and think that everyone hates me or something. Or that I'm not actually friends with anybody. Which means I'm alone in this world. Yeah this is the crazy in me talking (the small part of me which isn't actually sane. I'm sure everyone has one of those). I'm contemplating watching Toy Story 3 alone and crying to my heart's content. I don't know, all the reviews I've read online talk about it being a tearjerker. I'm not fan of crying though. Crying's too self-indulgent and self-important for me. It's like one of those things you should rid yourself of if you're a mildly content person with no immediate survival needs. Somehow I erroneously equate having your physical needs satisfied to having your emotional needs satisfied. Yes, I do know they're not the same, but for some reason I have this antiquated notion that emotions, and needing someone to care for you are signs of weakness. Probably because I've never had anyone show any overt care towards me before, unless I'm crying or badly injured (like the biking injury), where even the smallest gesture indicating mild concern makes me feel freaking touched. Damn it I'm whinging again.

4) I think I'm a basket-case. During the lunch hour I was doing the whole "I shall do this alone" thing again, so I left before anyone could talk to me or notice me in my small anonymous corner. So I spent around half an hour walking around the vicinity (actually, I was walking along the flats opposite The Company, where 7-11 is located) and buying food to go -- food like 7-11's mashed potato, which is technically more like watery-gloop-turned-solid potato as opposed to mashed, and bottled coffee. After loitering and hoping fervently that I don't spot anyone I know from the office, I decided it was time to go back into the building and read the papers. So, avoiding any eye-contact with people I may know, I headed back to the place and sat reading the papers for a good 45 minutes. I think this sort of antisocial behaviour cannot be normal (even with the whole "I'm an introvert and that is okay" string of posts I had before), but being with people from the office for too long really sucks me dry. And not being with my outside friends suck me dry even more. It's been ages since I've seen anyone familiar (family notwithstanding), and honestly it's killing me. I'm morphing into one of those people I label losers, and that can't be good. And yeah yeah, I am a douchebag for labelling people, I know.

5) Nobody's asking me out for lunch/dinner. Continuing in the vein of "I haven't seen you all for a long time" topic, the fact that I haven't been asked out for anything either indicates a laziness in you people or the fact that I'm such a nonentity that nobody actually remembers or cares to ask me out. Yeah not true about the "not been asked out" part since Jamie's talked about boozing, but then I've got nothing immediate these few days. The thing is, it's probably not such a big deal. I just need to see other people. I'm going crazy and doing those introspective/self-reflection things way too much. Everyone knows that spending too much time alone with your thoughts is in a way detrimental. Detrimental as in it will totally drive you insane.

6) Commuting. And seating in MRTs. I feel like a douche for sitting in MRTs in the morning, and sleeping. I don't even pretend to sleep; I really sleep. And even so I still feel really bad because in a sense I'm turning into one of those people I don't like. Those OLs who seat in trains. I'm not even sure if I would give up my seats if I weren't already sleeping. Yes, it is that bad; being up in the morning and facing the prospect of work doesn't make you a good person. It pollutes your mind with negative thoughts and profound ideas of human shortcomings. You don't find anything worthwhile unless it's already seven and you don't have a story to clear. At that moment you see everything in pastels and the air smells fresh. Even those grumpy OLs on the MRT looks like a motherly aunt to you. And this discovery of yet another one of my weaknesses makes me all neurotic again. I can't imagine how I'd be like if I'm working as some OL full-time next time. I'd turn into the very people I hate. And even though I'm resisting now, I'm absolutely certain that turning into one of them is inevitable. Then I'd lose that spark of interest I have in (some) things that I still have now. And the world would just be a cesspool of paperwork and emails. Because obviously if I'm an OL next time I'd be one of those friendless ones and I'm sure none of you would ask me out because I'd be a soulless loser by then.

7) My future is uncertain. I've never been a stickler for plans, but I'd like to at least know that I've got an outline, at least. And I don't. I don't even want to elaborate on this because it's too depressing. I think work is poisonous. That's not even the shirker in me talking. It's the closet philosopher. I'd name her Louis. Yeah, Louis the closet philosopher. And because I've been shut in with my thoughts so often (like, the entire day), Louis has been very vocal recently. Obviously that means she has a hell lot of psuedo-philosophical musings to present, but I shall resist that since it's really very depressing. It has something to do with dreams, motivations and purposes in live. All very pop-psychology/philosophy and inconsequential in the whole scheme of things, but they exist in my head nonetheless.

8) I miss Choo, and Chip, and Cecilia. This is like typos galore, but I miss hanging out with them so much. Especially since they're my Pixar buddies (technically we only watched Ratatouille together, still), and Pixar lovers like Judy have already watched TS3, while the rest are busy with work and camp. Is this some prelude (not the right word; too sleepy to care) to what out lives are going to be like in the future? Again, depressing much?

9) Humans are stupid. I mean it. Humans are so fucking stupid and self-important and self-righteous and all that, but all Man are doomed. I know, wtf right? But it's just a random thought. I never had much esteem for Mankind, which probably explains all my cynicism and lack of idols. I don't believe anyone is good enough to be idolised. I wouldn't mind showing some slight admiration for people, but idolatry, especially in cases such as pop stars (especially k-pop. No offense meant. Okay, maybe some offense meant, but whatever) and fictional vampires just sends my cynicismetre on a frenzy. And guess what, being human myself, I think I'm incredibly stupid and self-important and self-righteous too. I hate myself sometimes (but not enough to take drastic actions, because I am a slacker in essence).

10) Something else which I can't think of now since I'm so sleepy.

Good night!

I got my byline!

This was supposed to be a much longer post, talking about how my job at Tabby's just about infinitely better than my previous one at H*ya (ah heck it. HOYA. I WORKED AT FUCKING HOYA! So sue me), but decided that no one likes a whiny little bitch, so I made that post a draft.

Good night!

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it wasn't. It was stormy though. And completely water-logged. Of course I'm talking about the whole wet-fest which was Orchard Road today.

But wait, Vivien, aren't you supposed to be in an office when Orchard Road was flooding?

No. As you probably know, I don't actually have an office job. I have a freaking part office, part speak-to-strangers-even-though-that's-the-thing-you're-worst-at (besides running 2.4 during NAPFA tests) job. On the bright side, it's my first real story in Tabby. The thing is, the writing part is the part I'm the most comfortable with, because of all the experience I've had writing here. Remember IT ©? Yeah that helped, I think.

And it's really awesome when you're asking around and you meet very helpful people who don't hesitate in answering your incessant questions. It's a bummer to meet those people who absolutely refuse to speak, and give you the "I'm a bitch, fuck off!" face. Really, it's only the bitch-faced part which sucks; I do take rejection very well. Just save the attitude, yeah?

I really should sleep, shouldn't I? It's about 1.15am now (which is how we report the time), but I'm still waiting for my MP3 to be fully charged. How quaint right? Using the word MP3 when iPod is the ubiquitous word for that now. Wish I had an iPod Touch. Damn it.

Anyway let me tell you a story about the destructive powers of water. This morning, on my way to the Tabby office, I was completely soaked to the bone. The rain somehow managed to end up saturating the bottom half of my dress so it had this two-tone effect and making walking slightly cold and awkward. My flats, made of some psuedo-velvet material, was also completely clogged with water, which made my feet feel like what fermenting tofu probably feel like - stinky and mushy. So the point is, before I even stepped into the office, I was already soaked through (weird phrase, don't think it's a proper sort of phrase).

I was praying to some sentient being (whom I probably don't believe in) that I wouldn't be sent out on a job because no way in hell did I have the desire to put on my squishy wet flats and prowl the streets in search of some fresh target (more like stand by passively until I spot someone unlikely to resist my beguiling charms, heh >_>). So I was quite content to be put on the hotline (saigang 101). But as fate (oh blast the heavens and fate! How cruelly you treat us humans!) would have it, the floods had to occur today. And I had to drag my unwilling, soaked self to a wet place so that I'd get even more unwilling and soaked.

But you know what? I'm just being all whiny again because I'm quite tired now. It wasn't that bad in the sense that in retrospect it was a new experience for me. My intern colleague/friend(?) was telling me that every new case was a whole new experience. And honestly, it's true. Which is why I'm not even contemplating giving up yet (SHOCKER!). I actually find it fulfilling when your story has been cleared and you finally can breathe a sigh of relieve now that you don't have to call people up like a maniacal stalker anymore.

And because this job is so on-the-go and surprising every day, you hardly get a chance to feel bored. Unless, well, you're doing some World Cup related news. Oh, I've digressed a lot, haven't I? I wanted to tell you about how water is destructive. See, I reached Orchard at about 12 and bought a pair of slippers (long story short: my flats were soaked, I didn't want to trudge down there with cold, wet feet, and I didn't want to kill my $30 shoes since they're barely half a year old) as part of my battle gear for interviewing people. In my slippers, dress and cardigan, I went along with that intern colleague to start the whole shock and awe search and destroy ask and learn (aka interview) thing.

We also saw those poor shops like Wendy's which was completely water-logged. And Hermés, which had suffered some water-based destruction. There's something oddly satisfying about seeing luxury goods being damaged and the symbols of wealth and status being half submerged in murky brown water, but it's probably the figurative proletariat in me speaking. Although technically I'm in the category of the bourgeoisie, being comfortably middle-class and stupid and all that.

So anyway, after that we checked out this SUPER FLOODED car park. Honestly it looked like one of those Titanic scenes except the water was not so much clear, listerine-blue, but more of a murky, milk-tea (not Koi though. Koi's awesome! And overpriced! But awesome nonetheless) brown. And the cars were submerged so no way in hell could Jack and Rose do their lovin' in them. Yeah I'm not even trying to sound coherent now so bear with me.

To cut this mind-numbing story short, I started out very soaked, dried a bit, went out to get even more soaked to the bone, asked people stuff, and came back to write for Tabby. I'm still torn between two poles as to whether I'm into this job or not. One thing I really like is the whole "not boring" aspect of the job, and on the other hand we've got to deal with the "no-life" part of it too. So. So, the title is obviously referring to my dilemma of whether to like my job or not.

I don't know.

Meanwhile, I need sleep for tomorrow! Good night! :D

I am so fucking tired! Sorry about the expletives, but seriously, that word is so commonplace now it has pretty much lost most of its shock factor already, no? So get off my back, you prude!

Anyways people, I really wanted to blog something substantial other than the few lines whining about how tired I am, but I'm not in the mood now, so. Besides, I have no social life whatsoever now, so I'm not actually in a very trigger-happy-blogging mood now. I don't even know what that was supposed to mean.

So, my job. The most important lesson I've learnt so far is that spending your time/days counting down to the end of the day/hour is abso-fucking-lutely tiring. Like how the watched pot never boils or however that cliché goes. Sometimes when I'm out asking people inane stuff time does seem to pass more quickly, but in the office, when I'm calling up shops for some mundane task or another, time simply melts and flows as slowly as a pot of molasses trying to climb uphill. It doesn't move. At all.

I don't really know what molasses are, but I do know they flow real slow. Anyway the thing about having expectations is that you will inevitably be let down, because nothing ever turns out as good as you imagine it to be. Pretty much like the case of the new phone you just bought (unless it's an iPhone, because as overrated as it is, you can't deny that it's awesome to rub it into a non-iPhone user, right? Although I wouldn't know, I'm one of those losers who still use a Nokia), or that finale you've been anticipating for a while. Or that movie which was supposed to be really good.

So one of my philosophies in life is to not have expectations. That way, every single freaking thing exceeds your expectations, and you won't be as disappointed. Like how I envisioned my CAP to be 3 or something like that, and after receiving the text from NUS I'm actually delighted to not have gotten a 3. See, one of the secrets to achieving some happiness is to underrate yourself!

Another thing I learnt/am learning now is that I really don't know what to do in the future. I'd wanted to be a journalist for a while some time back, then the module woke me up a bit (because writing for the media simply isn't that fun, unless you're doing some awesome column. I know, I know, I've blogged about that before. Shutting up now). And now that I've got a few days worth of real experience, I must say that I really don't know about working there. There's all this "THIS IS A SECRET, WE MUST NOT LET OTHERS GET OUR NEWS BECAUSE IT IS OURS" thing going on, and honestly I don't like it much. I mean come on, we live in the 21st (right?) century, and with all the twitter/blog/FB status update stuff, it's pretty much granted that news is only news if it's transmitted on the spot.

I have a confession: I think print is undeniably on a steep decline. It's just not too apparent here because of the whole "OUR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC HAS ONE REAL PRINT AND DIGITAL (as in, TV) MEDIA" thing, which pretty much means a monopoly for now. But I wouldn't even bother reading the papers if not for Life! and the smaller papers like DL and Urban (not MYB because that's not that way I roll. I'm all for sedentary lifestyles and junk food, so). Why would I bother with the others when I've got subscription to Reuters, BBC and NYT RSS feeds which keeps me pretty much up-to-date? Why would I bother reading mundane local news like how the World Cup is affecting sales? Really, why?

And the thought of that just makes me frustrated because I spent most part of the day picking at the remnants of that piece of "news", which is so not news. I've never felt anything towards the WC, but this season I'm like "WORLD CUP IS STUPID!", because of all the unnecessary stuff we've got to do. I know I'm merely a lowly intern, but between staking out asking shop owners for their takes on sales and manning hotlines, I haven't actually written a single meaningful-in-the-least-bit thing. I don't even mean meaningful like those which evoke any change (like this cool kidney donation thing a few days ago), I just want something meaningful in a sense that it doesn't involve the bloody World Cup.

Oh, oh and about the whole "I SWEAR AN OATH TO SECRECY!" thing, you all know I've got like this big fat mouth (at least through this blog), and I really cannot keep things under wraps for long (unless it's like, life or death, or something which isn't my business to tell), because information wants to be free. Plus, I haven't written anything, and the only thing I'm really interested in is writing. I'm so hopeless at stuff like talking to strangers, because I am not that type of person who can talk to strangers. At the risk of sounding like a freaking broken record, I shall state once again that I simply cannot do the whole let's-pretend-to-be-courteous-and-talk-to-strangers-who-are-rude thing. Mostly because many people you meet on the streets are fucking rude, and partly because there's always this thing holding me back from talking to random people. It's a fatal flaw in this whole "I WANNA BE A JOURNALIST!" plan I had before, I must say. Fatal flaws like those tragic heros/villains we studied in literature possess.

So after filtering such stuff out, I've decided that what I really really really love is writing. I don't need anything else. As in, obviously I need food and water and air, and I also absolutely need to improve on my writing skills because honestly I'm not a very good writer (all smoke and mirrors on my part). Plus I still haven't actually thought of what I want to do when I, uh, "grow up", so there's another flaw in my plan. I could go on all day theorizing and pointing out flaws in this idea/ideal of mine, like how this is so unpragmatic (not a word). But then again, I have never been a pragmatic person in life, so why start now?

And, another confession, I have never had high regard for pragmatic people, because it all seems so forced. Because no one likes being pragmatic; people become pragmatic or make pragmatic decisions because they were taught to do that, and it's needed for survival (in the symbolic sense) under many circumstances. It's only by luck and a gambler's attitude that I have a certain disregard for pragmatism, because I've had a good life so far (unfairly so, because I obviously don't deserve it) and I don't lack anything that I know of (yay ignorance?).

Point is, I still have no idea what to do next time, but at least I've crossed something off the list of things I wouldn't do, unless I suddenly come to love this job or something. Which is pretty much unlikely for me now. Stupid World Cup!

Meh. I've actually got some dark and melancholic (not to mention angsty! I'm really stupidly angsty most of the time when I'm not feeling chill. I'm definitely not chill on weekdays now, sadly) thoughts floating in my head (sidenote: why do we say "floating"? Our brains aren't exactly made of air or 100% liquid. Why don't we ever say "stampeding"? Or "marching"?) now, but I won't bother you all with my gloomy, lachrymose thoughts.

Simply put I'm just not in a very happy slackoriffic state now, and my brains are on an overdrive trying to put me down by overthinking some shit. One more fatal flaw is my tendency to overthink stuff (and I mean this in the absolutely bad way, not like "ooh look at me, I'm an intellectual!" way) and ending up all disillusioned and dejected when I'm supposed to psyche myself up for things. I probably should get some help. Like, online help. By googling "how to psych yourself up" or something. Yeah none of them were particularly helpful, especially the eHow one. There were some which looked promising but I'm too tired to have my brain function properly.

So. I shall go to sleep now! Not even proofreading this, so have fun picking apart my spelling and grammar then! GRAMMAR NAZIS. Okay good night! Another day, another battle with the mundane tasks and anxiety/fear of screwing up! JOY.

I am very bored. Other than calling up pubs asking about World cup, I've really got nothing much to do today.

I can't wait for this day to be over. Mondays suck. The thing about working in The Company is that you get extremely bored if you're just sitting in the office making random calls to pubs.

Actually making random calls just suck no matter where you work. I don't really like talking to strangers on the phone. Somehow it's as bad as speaking to strangers face to face, because first you don't get to see physical cues, and second it's like talking to some disembodied voice which only exists in your imagination. Okay, no, it isn't anything like that, but I just don't like speaking on the phone to people, okay!?

It's 3.40 now and I'm blogging really discreetly. By that I refer to the method of first blogging in Notepad, then ctrl-c, ctrl-v onto blogger. Because it wouldn't help if I was found blogging during office hours. Actually I don't know if anyone actually cares about what you do on your computer (unless it's porn?). It seems like no big deal actually. Although I still make it a point to not make everything too obvious.

Oh oh and this morning I overheard one supe bitching about her intern to her colleague. Not too discreetly. Well, nothing to me, even though I think I have a clue who she's talking about.

But really, I don't care. I really don't care about office stuff too much. Just give me something to do which involves not being in the office and I'd be happy as a clam. Not that I have any idea why clams are happy.

Okay, bye.

I got a cut on my finger. Sometimes I like feeling some sort of pain resulting from external injuries because I guess it's different to feel something for a difference. Of course not internal pain, like from diaphragm cramps or gastric (got those when I wasn't eating well in hall. Especially on days I only ate lunch and then went to sleep/internet the day away), or horrible external injuries like the night cycling one.

Minor cuts that don't bleed aren't too bad, as they release endorphins and yet you don't have to deal with hypertrophic scars on your knees. Yikes, I actually sound quite masochistic here, but the thing is I probably am just a wee bit of a painophile. I don't mean it in the sense of "runner's high", because every time I run it's more of a "runner's low". I mean painophile in the sense that when you feel pain and the subsequent high you get from the endorphins you feel more, I don't know, alive. It's the same with me being an adrenaline junkie and riding those crazy roller coasters. The most horrible (by horrible I really mean insanely, neck-breakingly fast and exhilarating) roller coaster I had ever taken was Superman Escape in Ozzie's Movieworld. The drop, according to Wikipedia, is 90° and its speed goes from 0-100 (km) in 2 seconds.

I remember being slightly hysterical when the ride ended because yes, it was that mindblowing. Here's a pic off the internets:

And you know how theme parks always take pictures of people on roller coasters? Well my sister and I went to the gift shop to check out the pictures, but we couldn't find them. In the end, we were in a photo, but couldn't see ourselves because our heads were totally forced down by the crazy roller coaster G-force. The employee was chuckling with us when we finally found out almost-headless pictures.

Anyway.

Wondering how I got the cut mentioned (what, you got a cut? I thought you were going on about your masochistic fetishes?) before, let me tell you about one of the stupidest inventions in human history. Hark, the irritating plastic packaging!

Yeah that. I was cutting it when I accidentally cut my finger with the scissor blade. Apparently injuries from plastic packaging resulted in 6,400 visits to emergency rooms in 2004. In America, of course. Here you'd probably find tonnes of complaint letters written by irate consumers who are dripping blood as they pound on their keyboards. And there are wikihow articles teaching you supposedly ingenious methods to open them, such as using a can opener. But honestly, those things are a menace to the consumer society. I know they're anti-theft and all that, but besides deterring thieves they also manage to piss off consumers. Can't they, I don't know, change the laws for electronic product thieves punishing them with the Death Sentence to deter them or something?

Or, I don't know, use better burglar alarms. Besides, I don't see the point of using the bloody plastic packaging to wrap this laptop cleaning set my sister asked me to free from the clutches of the imbecilic packaging. It contains just a duster for the keyboard, an alcohol-based solution, and a piece of cloth! Seriously people, is it that fun to piss off consumers and slowly kill the planet just so you deter shoplifters from lifting some cleaning supplies? Genius!

I just noticed that my keyboard has these semi-greasy fingerprints on the keys. Meh. Shall give it a wipe down. Enough of the I-like-pain-I-hate-packaging thing then. Ciao!

And, while we're on the topic of awesome movies, I want to watch Toy Story 3! Andy goes to college. D: Dang I feel old again again. Seriously.

On the other hand, Monster's Inc 2 is coming out in 2012. We'd be 22 by then. Dang I feel old again. But MI is an awesome Pixar film, even though we'd look like old losers if we watch it.

Deathly Hallows finished shooting today. Dang now I feel all old. T_T

I am so happy I don't have to work tomorrow! But since I have such a poker face, you probably couldn't tell that from my expression if you could see me now. And if you could see me now you'd see me wearing this really old (2005) drumming festival tee from a past choir CIP event, and grey comfy FBTs, thus looking absolutely cui.

Anyway the aircon is on and I'm feeling at peace with the world even though I think I'm feeling rather tired physically; right now I'm lounging (technically more like lying on a pillow) on my bed typing, but once I sit up I get this mildly jelly-ish tingly feeling in my back. Yeah I just sat up and realised that I'm exaggerating, but no kidding - the office chair I got was totally horrible. My intern colleagues were like telling me to switch chairs with this empty desk one since they haven't seen anyone use it for months, but I decided not to, since the desk wasn't entirely devoid of personal paraphernalia (like this Tiger beer bottle with a mini boxer glove on it; cute). So I'm using this horrible chair with dubious stains at places you don't like to see stains of such colour and position. Okay I shall stop insinuating stuff about the chair's previous users.

Since I got home, I've been totally chillax. I had large shaker fries and Cupwalker's (AWESOME!) pudding milk tea for dinner. Then I watched (I use the term very loosely here) some yawn-inducing football on Channel 5. During which I decided I was so bored that I'd use the laptop to entertain myself while my sister attempted to continue watching (she was probably pretending to watch; I knew the match ended in a draw and she had to ask me >_>). So anyway, I've been busy stumbling in the office, and here are some cute sites I'd found:

1. Axe Cop
It's written/created by some five year-old kid and illustrated by his 26 year-old brother. The thing is, it's probably not the uproariously funny thing you'd find on the web, but it's cool how the boy is so randomly creative. Kids do say (or do) the darnedest things. Here's a preview of the random creativeness.

2. Happy chair is happy! (exclamation point unnecessary)
Yeah so I didn't actually stumbleupon this in the office (I was back home already), but it's still worth a visit if you're into mundane everyday stuff which have faces. That didn't make sense, but you should still go check it out, yo.

3. SHEEP
Now this is stretching the truth because I didn't even stumbleupon it; my sister sent me some link. It's this reaction-speed testing thing. Needless to say I took quite a while to get my reaction speed up to standard because of the the whole "I'M SO TIRED TGIF" thing.

4. Maps
Not even bothering anymore; I'm just listing sites as and when I remember them. This saved my life today (hyperbole) when I forgot to take down the English name of the coffee shop I was at this afternoon for some article (which, btw, I'm not writing). I had to use Google street views to check out the sign board of the coffee shop. Thank (name of some higher entity) for snooping and information collection. I'd gladly give my information to Google (sell your soul to the Devil!) for all the information they are able to give me in return. Which is way more important that anything I own anyway.

5. Spinning Ballerina thing
Everyone knows this already, but I was just at this site which had an advert for the spinning ballerina thing, and when I was looking at it it was going clockwise. I forgot what clockwise meant so I googled "spinning ballerina" and got this page. Clockwise means the right brain, apparently. So anyway I stared at the bigger image of the spinning ballerina and suddenly the spinning went in the other direction. I continued reading the article, then for a while, when I read the words "Right brain" I'd get the ballerina to go in the clockwise direction and when I read the words "Left brain" it just suddenly went all anti-clockwise on me. I think my brain's about to short out on me or something. Now it doesn't work anymore but sometimes when I'm not noticing it'll suddenly change in direction again. D: Whatever.

Okay too can't-be-bothered to post more sites. You can have fun stumbling on your own.

And just so you know, I haven't actually been able to slack in the office too much. Today (technically it's Saturday now but let's assume it's not) was the third day in the office and the busiest day so far. Do you want a blow-by-blow account of my fascinating worklife? Yes? Well I'd be obliged to!

So the first two days, was spent on slackoriffic training where we learnt to use the system of The Company. Both days we got to leave at 4 and boy do I regret not cherishing those days. Then, on Wednesday, I officially officially started work in my assigned-to department, which I shall re-christian Tabby McTabloids for the sake of not inviting any potential lawsuits. The first day at Tabby was pretty much a non-event. I did get this massive headache (probably due to the horrible chair, the cold, and too much Internet) and finished this short piece on some small press release.

The second day at Tabby was probably more eventful, since I had to ask for people's opinions and quote them. Although I didn't write any stories this time. My name was in today's Tabby though. So much for getting my byline. But let me digress a little from this log and tell you more about interviewing people. As you know, I'm not much of a people person (talking to people I don't know freaks me out especially). This reminds me of a Fairly-odd Parents episode where Crocker said, "But I'm not a people-person! I'm barely a person!". Okay back to my point. So when the perm guy (not talking about disastrous hair here. Perm as in permanent) told us we had to interview at least five people with differing views I was quite apprehensive. Anyway long story short, I got to Ang Moh Bridge and fretted for about an hour before steeling my nerves and attacking people (figuratively hor). I was wishy-washy during the first hour of fretting which probably led to me wasting an hour and still not getting one of those scowl-y aunties to give me five minutes of their time.

It all changed when I met this incredibly nice woman who gave me more than five minutes of her time and was just generally very, very nice. It probably made my day. And motivated me to ask more people. And she was the only one whose quote made it onto Tabby, by the way. At around three I was ready to go back to the office but I realised I forgot to ask three of the people a question I thought was important, and also their mobile numbers so I thought I'd get told off back in the office, but you know how the worst-case scenario rarely ever happens, so it was okay. After that I fiddled around more with stumbleupon, listened to a pep talk about Tabby and more work during this period of time, then went home.

Then today was the "OMG SERIOUSLY, SO MUCH WORK ON A FRIDAY?!" day. We were running this story (which I didn't write again. Sheesh) on Tabby which had been reported in Shinny McMinny the previous day, so this intern and I had to visit the coffee shops (CS) mentioned in the story and do everything over in English (>_>). And before that I had to check out some stuff in the J8 supermarket for some other story, where I had a junky lunch of sushi, bubble tea, bread and stuff. For the first CS I went with this other intern, and I had this phone conversation with some manager or boss of the CS in understandable Mandarin. This deserves a round of applause, no?

So after that we went back to the office (CABS RULE), and a while later he told me we missed out the second CS (I almost gave the -.- look but in the end I settled for the T_T look instead), so I had to go alone. This CS was located near hotels known for debauchery and I saw some would-be debaucheries even though it was only about 4 in the afternoon. Too much time, those men have. So I cabbed there and cabbed back to the office after a few rounds of Q&A, although halfway to the office the intern texted me asking if I got the interviewee's name and age (I hadn't. Stupid rookie mistake!). Luckily he didn't get me to go back to get it.

I was quite zonked when I got back, but I still had to make a couple of calls, send some emails and deal with administrative/logistic matters (such as filing articles) which are very very bureaucratic and sometimes strike me as redundant, but who am I to judge? I went home at around 7.30, and wham! here I am now, typing this. Okay I am getting kinda super sleepy now. Lullullull.

When can I write an article? The head honcho dude gave us this talk about how we're supposed to get our own stories, but, well. I don't know, I would love to do something awesome like that sometime but I've only got two months and I haven't even written anything remotely interesting. Oh and apparently Tabby isn't exactly all pally-pally with Straittie McTimus because of some differing angles and opinions. Well, I wish we were all happy like we used to be in middle school. I wish I could bake a cake full of rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy.

Mean Girls quotes aside, I think I should really go sleep now. But before I leave I must say that I find this job really different from my previous 9-day stint at the wretched, broke-millions-of-labour-laws hamper hell-hole. It's at once surprising, challenging and totally new to me, and some part of me which doesn't think slacking is the BEST THING EVAR! (that part of me is probably very very very very well-concealed, because even I can't locate its exact position) probably likes this job quite a bit. Which is absolutely rare, like, pigs flying on blue moon type rare. Not even exaggerating. Although there are irksome aspects, but it's Saturday! We can't all dwell on our comfortable I've-got-a-job-and-the-a/c-is-on problems. Which, according to the head honcho, is what Tabby aims to do - bring to attention the human aspect of stuff and not live in our top 20% bubble of oblivion. That's so idealistic, isn't it? No it wasn't sarcasm. I guess you gain perspective in Tabby as you deal with everyday people and not numbers and people-in-high-places.

Digress {But I would so love to do a Gaga interview if I ever work at The Company. Although as of now I still have no idea what I'd be doing next time. Hell I haven't even declared my major!} /Digress

So what's up with all the cloak and dagger? The espionage? (Uh) I refer to all the psuedonyms and weird, all over the place prose. It's to avoid someone ever guessing what I'm writing about if she doesn't know the context of everything. Hopefully I wouldn't get sued or something haha.

Okay I've said this thrice, but this time I mean it! I'm going to sleep now, CIAO! Sorry for typos/grammar suckage, I'm just totally brain-dead.

Okay so guess what, I haven't slept yet. I was reading up on more introversion articles. It's pretty freaky to see people describe your behaviour like they knew you personally, just saying. Apparently we're not antisocial; it's just who we are. And it's not actually weird to feel that way about small talk and acquaintances; it's just who we are. Uh. Also, extroverts outnumber introverts 3 to 1, so the world tends to think it abnormal to want to be alone and society doesn't accept that there exist people who cannot do such "normal" stuff. So in the end introverts are labeled "antisocial", "loners" and just plain weird. Plus you have all the positive connotations attached to the extroverts like "outgoing", "friendly" or, I don't know, "initiated", whilst introverts are stuck with terms like "reserved", or "shy". It's like personalitism (like, racism? Y'know?)!

And because introverts prefer to think it through before they answer stuff, sometimes they're seen as hesitant. No wonder my kindergarten teacher remarked in the report card that I was "slow". Thanks for that confidence boost. Plus I remember my mum asking why we (sister+me) didn't go interact with our cousins like my other cousin did, in the tone which obviously indicated some annoyance that we were such loners. Well firstly it was a funeral and I can't think of anyplace less apt to start a rousing round of "who can come up with the most mind numbing small talk?", and second, I absolutely disliked that side of the family - rich, self-absorbed (like me! Except the rich part), and loud.

But I still like going out and hanging out with you people, because I'm actually comfortable with you lot. Maybe because a lot of our friendships were built on the concept of hating F-shit, or talking about our childhood on bus 12, which wasn't so much small talk as, well, deep, meaningful conversation. Okay, not really, but it beats those conversations you make which you forget as soon as their over. Like:

Mary: Hey! This weather's really hot, isn't it?
Jane: Oh Hey! Yeah. Tell me about it.
Mary: Don't have such weather in Iceland, right?
Jane: Uh, sure. Well. Gotta go now. I've got to, like, y'know, go.
Mary: Sure, sure, nice talking to you!

I'd rather pass the person in silence with a fleeting smile. It kills me to make such small talk. Literally. Yeah, not literally but you know what I mean. I could go on and on and on about introversion and how introverts are not abnormal psychos and bore you to certain deaths and lose the last five readers of this blog, but I shall resist. I'm really going to sleep now. Because I have to wake up at 7 again tomorrow. Mehz.

So as you all know, being avid readers of my blog, that I have officially started my internship with The Company (as stated in the contract. Without the dramatic italics though). Today was merely the systems training, where we got to spend an entire day "learning" how to use the system The Company uses. I used the quotation marks because I spent more than half of the day not actually listening to the nice, sagely-looking man teaching us how to use the systems. Instead I was IM-ing Linette on the system's IM, Facebooking, checking out The Company and my department on Wikipedia, Googling stuff like "I wanna sleep", and generally slacking off when I was supposed to be learning stuff.

Besides, the system they use is actually not very intuitive (according to experience, and Wikipedia! Who says I don't do research?). Too many redundant icons at the sides and intrusive incoming email alerts (exaggeration), for example. I would actually prefer if they used something more, I don't know, no-frills like Google apps. Okay, granted, Google apps isn't what you'd call no-frills, but it's way more user-friendly than the one they use, and I like Google.

But before I get too into this whole systems thing, and before you call me a dork, I shall stop. Ahem. So. First day. I met this intern paginator from NAFA who was posted to the sports section of the department I was posted to. So I just googled the term "paginator" and it turns out that there isn't such a word after all, so I guess that isn't actually the correct term. Either way, her job is to organise the pages, as in, arrange the photos and text and headlines such that it can fit onto the page nicely. Like a jigsaw puzzle! And she has a cool name.

Oh I had lunch with a bunch of interns Linette knew and I didn't. And by knew I think I mean it in the loosest sense. Ever. So for me this is probably the weakest of all the weak ties. Ever. And because I'm the type who wouldn't do the whole small-talk-socialise-with-people thing, because I'm just totally inept at these sort of things (what a pity. I don't even mean it sarcastically. Because. I don't know. Argh). I just respond to people's questions and sometimes, on incredibly rare occasions, I would be struck with a sudden interest in the person I'm conversing with and ask her/him some questions back. Which means more often than not we'd lapse into one of those ultimately awkward situations where nobody has any idea how to continue the conversation. Yeah, so back to lunch. I ate some crappy chicken rice and, although I wouldn't say it was crappy company (probably because I'm not in that kinda mood and they really weren't that crappy), it was one of the most silent lunches I've ever had in such a company of eight other people. Of course the silent thing was on my part, since they were having an apparently rousing discussion about some corpulent homosexual (nothing wrong with being a corpulent homosexual, mind you) who had a penchant for tight-fitting tops.

I didn't know what to say so I intermittently let out a few (faked) chuckles to show my appreciation for the topic of discussion and prove that I wasn't zoning out. I wasn't, in case you were wondering. If not I wouldn't know they were talking about corpulent homosexuals. But enough about corpulent homosexuals.

My point is, this is turning into one of those self-fulfilling prophecies about me not being able to hang out with colleagues and having those small-talk lunches like all those normal people are able to. Damn it, that's pathetic. Okay I'm probably not that pathetic. I was just too sleepy to bother speaking today. Hopefully.

Anyway. I'm out of clothes to wear already. Every other thing in my closet is too stuffy and OL for my liking and I'm saving the jeans for when I start work at the "dress down" department which is mine. That probably was the highlight of my day, finding out about that. The other highlight was getting off work, obviously. But I'm too sleepy to bother so I would probably put on some random dress I bought from some DP sale which I wore for some hall dinner.

Enough about work/training though.

Don't you just dislike it when you meet some streets salesman/charity salesperson (or whatchamacallits) and they ask you questions and when you answer they kinda bend down a little and stick their ears nearer to you so that they can hear what you're saying (and appear super eager at the same time)? I know, I know, it's so that they can properly hear what the person's saying and not result to "Huh can you speak louder?"s to actually get you to enunciate and project your answers clearly, but hey, invasion of personal space much? I'm actually quite anal about people invading my personal space. They have to at least half and arm's length away from me if not I'd be like "Yo you're like totally breathing my air, man" in my head. Why the sudden revelation? Well I was on my way home from The Company and was happily walking along the path to the MRT station when this person trying to sell something for the SCS (Singapore Cancer Society) stopped me. I spotted said person from metres away and was preparing to take my earphones out but was much too late, since my OL-type wear was too matronly to miss. So anyway, I was feeling pretty rich at the moment so I stopped to see what I was supposed to be buying. But after giving my age I was told that the minimum age was 21 (ah well), so I was preparing to walk away already. And the salesperson just had to strike up some small talk asking about my uni and what year I was graduating (why?), all in that typical aforementioned-eager-salesperson-bend-slightly-stick-ears-to-you-whilst-invading-your-personal-space type posture. I mean it was all friendly and it's nice to know that there exist charity salespeople who are friendly enough to go past the initial buy-my-stuff stage. I think I'm just PMS-ing. Heh. Oh well.

But I bet you're sick of my constant crappiness, so here's something for you to read. I stumbledupon it and it's about introverts. And since you'll obviously be too lazy to click on it, I'll tell you, the writer is pretty much writing what I've been trying to put across for a very long time, but my blog-type prose isn't very efficient and immaculate at conveying messages across. So, an excerpt!

Do you know someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and maladroit at small talk? Who has to be dragged to parties and then needs the rest of the day to recuperate? Who growls or scowls or grunts or winces when accosted with pleasantries by people who are just trying to be nice?

Okay is this my inner-voice morphing into an essay-writer? Except the "dynamite presentation" and "dragged to parties" (parties are fun what! Unless you're asking me to attend parties which involve lots of acquaintances and small talk. Sheesh). Although the rest of the article is quite self-important, like:

They cannot imagine why someone would need to be alone; indeed, they often take umbrage at the suggestion. As often as I have tried to explain the matter to extroverts, I have never sensed that any of them really understood. They listen for a moment and then go back to barking and yipping.

Okay so I have complained about my aunt and sister's inability to be alone before, but I have never used the phrase "barking and yipping". That's just mean! (Although I am mean). Also:

If we introverts ran the world, it would no doubt be a calmer, saner, more peaceful sort of place.

Well. I won't be the one to oppose that view vehemently, but you can't deny that is rather self-important. And:

Are introverts arrogant? Hardly. I suppose this common misconception has to do with our being more intelligent, more reflective, more independent, more level-headed, more refined, and more sensitive than extroverts. Also, it is probably due to our lack of small talk, a lack that extroverts often mistake for disdain.

I don't know if he's using some weird type of self-deprecating irony or he truly means it though. Okay, okay he is using some form of irony in his entire article. So.

You know how my MBTI says I'm an ENFP instead of an INFP? Well according to Wiki the results are sometimes different on various occasions, so that day I might have been feeling extra outgoing for some reason. Anyway when I was a kid I was painfully shy, like, absolutely shy. You know how I am extremely susceptible to blushing profusely? Well imagine that times a million and you'd get a rough idea. When teachers called me out in class I'd get so incredibly red. It lasted till I was fifteen and realised that it wasn't a big deal to talk in front of more than five people at a time, so I got over that shit. But the introvert thing remained throughout my nineteen-going-on-twenty years on this planet. So I'm no longer shy to the debilitating extent but I remained an introvert. D: Dang.

Sorry this post was kinda boring. It's 11.13 and I swear I'm about to drop off into a deep sleep anytime soon. Waking up at 7 every day is no mean feat, I tell you. Especially for a lazy bugger like me. Goodnight then! I'm kinda hungry; meh!

And now, in an attempt to cheer myself up at 12.31 in the evening (?), I shall post some pictures.

None of which belong to me. Internet ftw!

I don't usually do the soppy inspirational stuff, but sometimes we really have to stop whining and think of how lucky we are. Like how I've got a job and all the things I really should stop being a whiny little toerag.

Star Wars! What a punny picture!

In my recent slacking exploits (which end today), I have taken to watching How I Met your Mother, which makes for good entertainment when Friends isn't showing.

And now, for a series of cute kids! How awesome!







Well, now that I've fed and watered your scopophilic/pedophilic tendencies, I shall go off to bed now! To bed! To bed!

I don't want to sleep and face the inevitable tomorrow (well, unless I somehow die in my sleep) and the early mornings I'd have to face for eight consecutive weeks. The rest of my June and my entire July will be burnt because of work, which means I'd have to slog my guts out, not go out with you guys, and not be able to slack at home sitting in the same sofa for 10 hours straight eating all sorts of junk while watching inane shows or taking long naps and waking up with a stiff neck.

So, instead of sleeping, I'm stumbling, blogging and Facebooking. Facebook is getting superbly boring. I don't know what to wear tomorrow, so I shall probably throw on some blouse-skirt combo, both from Cotton On (I bought them for CNY but somehow never got around to wearing them, so) and flats (also from said shop. Yes I am that pathetic when it comes to clothes, all right? I'm not rich or anything). Oh my gosh I am so close to freaking out. You know that gaping, hollow feeling you get in your stomach when you feel like freaking out about something? For example, when you've got an examination coming up the next day and you haven't actually touched anything from the semester? Or the day before the A level results came out? Yeah something like that. Except I'm absolutely dreading it like a hundred times more.

I think I do have some mild form of Ergophobia, or, well, Phobia of work. It probably has something to do also with my Slackophilia, or addiction to slacking. But really, I absolutely don't want to work.

I DON'T WANNA WORK! WAAAAAHHHHHHH! T_T

My parents probably think I'm a flake for being so 三分钟热度 about everything, like the "I wanna be a journalist!" thing, or the whole "I like ice-skating!" thing when I was ten and my sister and I used to go to the Kallang skating rink for weekly "lessons", which was pretty much me falling on my ass every few seconds. This continued for a few weeks before the lessons were up and my butt was sore and we didn't continue. Supposedly my sister wanted to, but well, I don't know what happened. And for the record I never wanted to learn it, I'm pretty sure. I just don't get passionate or excited about stuff very often. Oh, and the piano thing (quit after my Grade Five cert), but that's probably because my teacher didn't bother with me very much - didn't do any practice except fifteen minutes before she came; wasn't all that talented in the whole piano thing (particularly sight-reading. That's torture). It's just that, I don't know, so many things bore me after a while.

Is that some deeper psychological problem I have? Probably some symptom of me being a total psychopathic individual or something. You see, it's quite easy to get me all hyped up for something, but after this period of time I'd get so incredibly bored. Like camps, for a while you'd (okay, I meant "I'd") think "Hey these people are fun! I wouldn't mind hanging out with them!", but after a while you're (again, "I'm") like "OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO HIGH AND HAPPY ALL THE TIME AND SERIOUSLY CAN'T YOU ALL BE MOPEY ONCE IN A WHILE AND STOP LAUGHING I AM BORED WITH YOUR HAPPINESS GOODBYE". Yeah technically I never think that, but subconsciously I probably am saying all that misanthropic stuff. Then when it comes to things I get into, like say, wanting to be a journalist, I'd overthink things and then take a screwey, only-got-a-B module like "Writing for the New Media" or whatever that module was called, and decide that I really don't want to be a journalist next time, or, worst, be tied to a bond to be a journalist when I've decided that I don't want to be a journalist next time.

What probably already changed my mind was the whole "Journalism is literature in a hurry" quote they showed us by some dude named Matthew Arnolds (no idea who that is, and I mean retrospectively), because I don't want to write stuff meant to be consumed in a hurry! Being in a hurry is pretty much what I aim not to be in life. You only get to live once (and I'm pretty sure I'd surely be dead before I'm, I don't know, sixty?), and if you're always in a hurry you wouldn't know what it's like to relax and savour life (without all that distraction). You see, when you're just sitting there, doing nothing, now that's living! Kidding, that's not really living. I don't know how to explain this deeply philosophical idea. I just don't like the way efficiency and speed is everything in this society, because, hell, what's the point of that?

Extra points for you if you can indeed tell me what's the point of doing everything in a hurry. And you all know the points don't matter.

“The difference between literature and journalism is that journalism is unreadable, and literature is not read” Oscar Wilde

Well. It's true though, reading the first quarter of The Picture of Dorian Gray was unbearable and I stopped reading after getting past all that.

Surprisingly the only thing I can think of which I'm not entirely sick of/bored by is the whole reading/writing thing. As in, I have loved reading since I was a stupid little kid, and even now (alas! The job means no more time to go to the library and borrow stuff and read. On that topic, did you know that normal membership in the library allows you to borrow 6 books now? Like HOLY COW! I didn't know that till I saw the tiny poster they pasted at some obscure part at the entrance of the library. HOLY BOVINE CREATURES!) I still love getting down and dirty with the books. Okay, whatever that means. And I still like writing stuff (even essays! And by that I mean I like coming up with all sorts of crap without planning too much because I guess that's what I'm good at. I'm good at coming up with crap. That's kinda depressing, actually. Damn). It's evident from how I still keep this blog alive despite dwindling readership (from seven to five, probably?), bad grammar (too many "and"s and parentheses), and nothing to blog about (which is where my crapping abilities come in handy, I guess).

I just don't like writing and reading too-serious stuff like for the news (is this why I'm sent to TNP? Seriously?), or reading boring books about the history of WWI or something like that. Because I'm not a serious person. >_> I don't even take myself seriously most of the time, partly because I'm an unmotivated loser (heh) and mostly because it's boring to do that. Like, I don't care!

Yeah I can tell I'm going off-track with all this rambling. Sucks to have a disorganised brain and all that. Even my room is messy, but you all already know that.

Dang it it's so hot and my parents have decided not to turn the a/c on for us. Because of the electricity bills and all that. My mum's a penny pincher (again, if the whole "kids-grow-up-trying-to-do-the-opposite-their-parents-do" thing is true, it would explain my penchant for overspending on impulse buys and binge-buying) and the wind direction this time of the year happens to be that of the master bedroom. So tomorrow I'd wake up disgruntled at the heat and the fact that I'd have to work.

Oh my gosh. I really don't want to work! T_T Really, really, really.

But no use dreading it, so I shall attempt to cheer myself up by, well, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO CHEER MYSELF UP! This is dire. Can you use dire in such a sentence? Probably, right? I don't want to work! And you see that title of this post? They are actual song lyrics! Speaks to my heart, the lyrical, poetic genius who wrote those.

I think I've got to sleep soon. Because it wouldn't help make my day better if I turned up to work all zombified. Or, I could sleep late and hope that I can catch some sleep on the journey there. Better not though, I'd have to wake up early to take a passport-sized photo from one of those "instant" (as if) photobooths they have at the interchange. For the company, that is. And it wouldn't be that good if I gave them a picture of me in my zombified state. Killing their appetites aside, I'd just die if they made that into an ID and I'd have to bring it around everywhere I go.

This is a long post, isn't it? Okay, bye. Wish me luck!

Okay, so I am interning there in the end. I received a text from the woman who did the liaising stuff this morning telling me to check my email. I was bummed out because they remembered me. So anyway I went on to watch television programs (mind-numbing ones) until twelve-ish, and the woman called me and ambushed me. You know how I'm not that good at those talk-to-people kinda situations, and although I had half the mind to reject them so that I could slack my holidays away, I agreed to start work next week after she bombarded me with all the confusing instructions through the phone.

So my beautiful summer plans are all burnt. Oh my gosh. T_T

And in the email I found out that I would be posted to TNP Big Desk. So I'm like, hmm, what could that be? And after thinking about it for a while I realised it probably meant I'd be working at The N*w Paper. Double Oh my gosh. I don't know about you, but The N*w Paper just seems a little too gossipy for my liking? I'm not a gossip-monger. Yeah who am I kidding; I so am. But I don't like how they milk news for all their worth. Like the Huang Na case a few years back? Remember all the hoo-ha and how all the tabloid papers were going on and on and on about that news? Meh!

Maybe they spied on this blog and read IT and realised I was too crappy to go into cooler sections like, I don't know, Life! Because that's like the best section there is. I regret not putting that in the "preferences" part. I sure as heck didn't think they'd put scholarship-holder-to-be-(maybe)s into such sections. D:

I really contemplated emailing my rejection but that would involve lying (by omission, as in, not saying anything) to my parents about ever getting the email and then maybe living with the regret of not having at least tried to see what it feels like to be a journalist. And now, guess what, I'm a tabloid journalist! At least I may get to visit seedy places in Geylang on stake-out missions. What, you don't think that's appealing? Pssht stop trying to put me down! >_>

It's okay, I have like, four more days of real, unadulterated holidays left! So I shall not think of the horrors of working, and the things which are putting me off, like "What should I wear!?", or "What sort of weirdos work at The N*w Paper?" (actually, Choo put that in my head. Damn). Instead, I shall focus on things which are non-work related! Like, uh, bubbles! And packing my room! And shopping. Oh my gosh I really don't want to work.

And since I don't really have anything interesting to say which doesn't involve me and my work-anxiety,

Day 04 — Your favorite book

Well. I don't have a favourite book. I have favourite authors though, like Roald Dahl (he is simply marvelous), JRR Tolkien (for The Hobbit, which is a great book), Anthony Horowitz because he wrote stories about loser teens who solved crime. He was very funny. Oh and a new addition is Neil Gaiman, who wrote Stardust and The Graveyard Book, because there's something about his writing which makes his books different. I like people who write stories for children but don't treat them as immature, stupid kids. Probably why I love Dahl a lot.

And speaking of books I just finished Sex and The City. Contrary to the title there weren't a lot of descriptions of sex and it wasn't the typical chick-lit fluff I was expecting. The book started out as newspaper columns, actually. Thats.. cool. Never knew that till I wiki-ed.

It's four. I probably should go. Bye. T_T I DON'T WANNA WORK! (In the whiny voice which I've never quite gotten)

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