A Heart So White

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


Is your punchline just a joke?
Tuesday, March 15 22:27


Four more days to the choir concert, and relative freedom! No more reaching home at 12 and finding the house almost totally dark - one of my mother's crazy attempts to save money, by not turning on any lights at all. On normal days people standing outside the house would think we were having an isolated case of blackout.

Anyway, remember Konapun?





Yeah they're selling it them Singapore! But I think they've already sold out. Long story short, my sister bought some home, and we spent the last hour making tempura, rice and omelettes. You know how Konapun Girl does everything so calmly and neatly? It's a lie! Everything sticks to your fingers (if you're stupid enough to try kneading the stuff with your bare hands) and things get really messy after you cook more than one dish. But it's fun though, if you ever liked playing with Play-doh when you were a kid (and maybe if your parents never let you mix the colours because it's wasteful to do so, so you ended up with food in primary colours, and boring ice-cream cones), or like miniature things because they make you feel like a giant.

Yes, I know I'm 20 already.

And it's even more wasteful than Play-doh because it rots, because apparently the substance is organic and biodegradable. In essence it's probably like throwing money down the trash can, but you get to have fun with fake foods.

I mean come on, it's made me forget about all the emo-momo stuff from yesterday. And the fact that I'm facing quite a number of deadlines. And playing with fake inedible food will actually curb your appetite, which would be good when you're trying to save money on food. I want to buy the new game! I know, I know, I'm still getting an allowance like a loser (._.) but I've still got to save money to get stuff like that, because transport costs are freaking high ($40 per fortnight, not even trying to be funny) and somehow I manage to spend as much as I'm given. Sometimes I just donate money to those poor flag day people and buy supper for my sister and before you know it your money's gone and you're budgeting for a deficit.

Maybe I should stop spending my breaks at the Grinning Gecko (overpriced cafe in NUS which serves nasty food and okay coffee/cakes). It's just that my breaks coincide with the time when The Deck is crowded as hell and the Gecko is just right there, you don't even have to walk much to get there and no one goes there because, as mentioned, the food is nasty. Today I ordered this $3.50 pasta. The picture depicted an awesome looking pasta dish covered with bacon slices. I haven't had bacon in a long time, and hey, $3.50 for a bacon pasta, should be awesome right? But nooooo the bacon is a lie! Instead they serve these pieces of spam-coloured, pathetically thin ham posing as bacon. Bacon wannabes! I see through your act. And the pasta was just eh.

No more Grinning Gecko. From now on I'm becoming a save-a-holic and during the holidays I'll work my ass off (hurhur. Right) to earn my keep. I mean, if choir doesn't keep my occupied too much. O:

The dude who's supposed to present for literature tutorial tomorrow hasn't sent us his presentation outline. Someone's gonna get his ass kicked by the lecturer.

Meanwhile I'm going to pack my bag. And here's a protip from a slacker: If you want to be punctual you should pack your bag the night before, because trust me, nothing's more torturous than packing it in the morning when you're all groggy and just want to go back to bed. And pick out your clothes the night before so you don't have to fuss over what to wear to not look like you dressed in the dark.

Maybe I should give GP tuition.

H

A

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A

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Say goodbye to my heart tonight
02:03


Okay, so Choo's premise is that all good friendships start with awkward silences. I cannot argue against that point of view, damn. But everything's easier when you already have a group of friends to begin with. All right, sure, you enter Secondary school with nary a friend in sight (unless you're from a top Primary school), but so do many other people. When people are lonely and young they tend to make friends easily (an assumption. Don't kick my ass). But when you're older (old)you just can't be bothered to go through the works of making friends that way anymore. Furthermore the time you spend together is restricted to the length of the lessons you have together and if after the semester you don't have any more modules with this said person it's highly unlikely that you'll become very good friends. Unless you go home together frequently, which could go either way.

I haven't actually made any friends in NUS whom I think I would go the distance with (by which I mean the figurative distance of, uh, life) because I don't spend enough time with people to make such connections. Nor do I cultivate/keep up with the friendships by going for outings and whatever crappy bonding events there are. I just can't be bothered.

And guess what? I'm really okay with that. I'm like being alone because it gives me space to think and be silent. Which is why I'm actually dreading tomorrow's project group meeting. Three year threes who know each other and moi. Sounds like happy funtime. I wish I had a naturally sunny disposition and inbuilt friendliness. But noooo all I have is a sullen face and a penchant for dramatising everything into tragedies. And then blogging about them and quoting song lyrics into the post titles. Alas, poor Yorick!

I need to sleep. Fo'real.
I'm thinking what the hell
00:58


You know how Bilbo feels like he's butter spread over too many slices of bread on his eleventy-first birthday? That's pretty much how I feel, even though I don't have the burden of the Ring of Power on me.


I never belonged to the cool bunch of people in school, and I don't think I will ever fall into the category of "cool" in any setting I'm under, because honestly I'm rather awkward and uncompromisingly quiet unless somehow I'm interested in the things you do or say. I'm also rather aloof and unfriendly (dao, in other words), and nothing can ever change that. Is it any surprise that I'm not included in the mainstream, popular bunch of people with their multitudes of friends and Facebook friends?

But aside from that slightly self-pitying topic of not being cool, I rather like being uncool and uninvited and not included in general. It's an exclusive club, the proverbial other. I guess I've never really wanted to be on the other greener(?) side of all things cool and popular because I don't particularly like the colour green I don't see the point in it, with all the little social protocols and propriety in social situations/events and whatnot. Every Thursday during one my literature lectures my friend from another literature lecture would seat next to me and then his friend would seat beside him and her friend who's also his friend would seat beside her and I don't know any of them, so long story short, I'd like to tell him that he really doesn't have to seat beside me as convention dictates and that I'm really perfectly fine sitting alone (I like sitting alone. You don't have to think of things to say to fill the uncomfortable silences, because you only have comfortable silences with people you're chummy with). But I didn't actually say that, because it's just a lecture and I'm actually not that socially inept yet. I mean sure, it feels weird sitting in close proximity to people you barely know/don't know at all (as with the case of Linette's Clingy, who sat with her when she sat with me during a lecture two semesters ago) but it's not that bad yet.

But on the other hand, I'm really horrible at being, you know, a sociable human because when I see someone I'm not that familiar with on 95/96 I'd pretend not to see said person, and to avoid taking the same train as said hypothetical person I'd scoot into Cheers in an attempt to avoid having to make awkward small talk to anybody. Honestly, what if the person stays in Pasir Ris? I'd have to endure the entire journey making cringe-worthy small talk and I don't know about you but when I've just undergone an excruciatingly awkward experience somehow my brain catches hold of that moment in time and makes me relive it by playing it over and over again in my mind and I'd analyse what I did wrong and what I should have done and what witty thing I should have said then.

Which is why, point blank, I am unsociable and uncool. And if somehow you're a good friend of mine you probably are uncool to some extent too, at least by the definitions of society, but in my eyes you're incredibly awesome.

Shit I think I sound really crazy and inept. But then again, I probably am. Who fusses about human interaction like that? O: I probably need some sleep.
The world is quiet
Monday, March 14 00:41


I don't like the word quirky, because it's one of the most overused words today. You get people with a "quirky" sense of style, mostly describing people wearing hipster-glasses and clashing colours, a "quirky" sense of humour (uh what the hell does that even mean?), and even a "quirky" personality. How does one have a quirky personality? Since when did "quirky" become an inherently positive term? You could have a penchant for eating the offals of dogs you just slaughtered for breakfast and still call yourself quirky, because hey, eating dog innards is a rather quirky thing, no?

According to google (define function) quirky means: "far-out: informal terms; strikingly unconventional". I don't think dressing according to what everyone thinks is quirky today actually qualifies as quirky. Everyone's wearing those "quirky" dresses and those "quirky" glasses and wearing those "quirky" socks with "quirky" shoes. You're not quirky. I mean, Lady Gaga is quirky with her evil looking shoulders and meat dress; you're just, well, not.

But then again, words are arbitrary, so who cares what I think, who cares what anyone thinks? Nothing has meaning and every thing is transient, right? But now that I think about it I don't really buy into everything postmodernists sell. Meaninglessness and no absolutes? Isn't this rather dogmatic too? But it's 1 in the morning, don't blame me for not making sense at all. And for using "But" at the start of a sentence (and "And"). What are you, some kinda grammar Nazi?

I hope the people in Japan don't get screwed over so much. Shit happens, and because I live in a Godless world (I mean, from my perspective) I don't think prayers work. Nor do I think Facebook pages calling for support work, because it's Facebook for Chrissakes (arbitrariness aside, nothing quite fits an exclamation like religious terms, right?). The Japanese are incredible though, if I were a country I wouldn't be so efficient as to have my trains up and running the next day after a massive natural disaster. I'd probably be lying on my back bemoaning my fate, but that's just me.

I'm mean at night. Maybe I should just go to bed. Nothing good ever happens at night, and honestly the only really good thing about night time is the smell of night air, which is one of the best smells in the world. Fact. Too bad day time belongs to the realm of book-learnin', which isn't much of a hoot. I'm into Animal by Neon Trees lately. If you look at the lead singer you'd find that he has douchey "quirky" hair and their entire video reeks of trying to be "quirky", but hey, the song's not too shabby, so I'd forgive their quirkitis.

I'm watching Rugrats at one in the morning. Am I quirky or what?

I wish I believed in something bigger than this wretched (in terms of what most people strive for: money, property and status. Fuck that) life we live. I wish I believe that making wishes worked. I don't. Because they don't. Doesn't everyone want someone totally dependable they can look to when they feel like they have no one in the world? Something greater than humans will ever be, no matter how hard they strive? I wish I believed in a higher being, but I don't believe in wishes, and I don't believe in a higher power who is benign and absolutely good and shiny, because why would he cause so much chaos and pain in this world. As trials? As part of the free will deal? Who does that? Loki maybe, or Eris, but who wants to live in a world controlled by the old gods? They're random and pitiless, and great for RPGs, but no thanks. I sound like some whiny idiot who should count her blessings, but really, why don't I believe in anything?

Curse you, angst. GTFO already.
We were already bored
Tuesday, March 8 20:27


I'm supposed to be reading Tristram Shandy, which has a total of 9 volumes and 539 pages. I'm on page 26 now. You can see how I'm rather behind on everything, since the only book I've finished so far is the bawdy Joseph Andrews, whose 300-odd pages pales in comparison. Tristram isn't even born yet.

It's not entirely my fault though. The past weekend was occupied by the computing mid-terms and my maternal grandmother's funeral. I don't know if I've ever told you the complicated backstory involving my mother being the unwanted child of the très riche family with 8 other siblings who apparently scheme and plot more than the average character of 爱. Yes, I know, it's a funeral and I'm supposed to be all proper and sombre, but honestly I don't know her. I'm sure she's a great mother and grandmother to the people around her, but other than 4 word Chinese New Year greetings and mandarin oranges I've never really exchanged anything else of meaning with her. It's a loss, but it's not a loss I can call mine. So I won't pretend I care about the social conventions of appropriate funeral behaviour because I don't really believe in them. It's actually the first time I've been able to attend a funeral with a great degree of emotional detachment, and - take my word for it - funerals are one of the best occasions to do some human study if you want to find some writing material and examples of human absurdity. I don't know if I'm callous or what, but I was apathetic and pretty much just observing people around me.

Besides, my apathy isn't the worst thing, you should have seen the family circus I witnessed during the two days I was at the wake. But first, some background information. You don't watch a drama without basic caricatures of the characters, do you? There's this son, whom the matriarch used to live with in his flat along with her daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Here's the catch, they've gotten a divorce, but are putting up a pretense until her demise. Then there's the side of the family who are pious Christians (no, why are you reading a tone of disdain in that? I meant that in a totally neutral way) who, under the guise of being pious and better-than-thou, flat out refused to pay for the fruit baskets and funeral bands (3 bands, actually. I don't know, if I were the deceased I'd totally be like "Oi, keep the noise down. I'm trying to stay dead here!"), because apparently Christians don't eat fruits because fruits are evil, ala the Original Sin don't do these sort of Taoist things. I don't know, aren't you supposed to love thy neighbour and stuff? Or at least respect your family members enough to be gracious? Then there's my mother and this sister who aren't close to being the favourites of the family, so they behave pretty much like the outcasts of the family, although they're probably not as apathetic as I was, because if they were outcasts my sister and I are probably non-entities.

Those are the basics (believe me when I say that the story is more convoluted than that), so I shall move on. Anyway you can probably tell that the funeral would be a hotpot of long simmering conflicts and emotions boiling over. Whoever came up with the premise of a funeral probably was an anarchist. Or an overly optimistic blighter. Either way, this funeral was probably the most, well, dramatic of any I've been to.

To substantiate that: one of the sisters, who belonged to the pious Christian part of the family, started wailing in front of the casket, which of course pissed one of the non-Christian sons off. He stormed up to her, disgruntled (my mother tried physically barricading him off to no avail) and shouted at her. I was sitting a seat away from the spectacle, and seeing them stirring the shit (pardonnez mon francais) immediately got me scooting to a pillar to be an innocent bystander. He shouted something like "Mother is not God, if you want to do something for her then pay for the costs of the funeral!" (or something along the lines), and she retaliated by shouting something else. This got on for a while until the eldest son, who by the way was adopted, stepped in and chided both of them.

To borrow a popular phrase, shit just got real. You appreciate hackneyed Mediacorp writing more because, y'know, it really happens.

Then there were also the usual fainting daughters and rude men (man, who, together with his three sons, cohabits with the other outcast sister who wasn't in any way related to his three sons) taking videos if the funeral rites with his cell. No joke, we were kneeling and bowing and there he was with his videophone, apparently seeing a funeral rite for the first time in his life. If I lacked propriety this dude was the Chuck Norris Charlie Sheen of funerals.

Oh, and remember how I said there were three bands? They were hired by the brothers, who decided to splurge on the funeral because they were spending money which belonged to the matriarch, which was supposed to be inherited by the daughters. But hey, they weren't female, so they wouldn't get any money if there were any left over after the funeral, would they? But fret not, dear readers, they have already had their fair share of property and company shares, and apparently (according to my mother) some of them have already scammed her of quite an amount while she was alive. Besides the three bands, there were 5 course dinners throughout the wake, which were served to 40 tables - yes, at a funeral. You'd think they were competing to have the most extravagant funeral ever.

After the first night of rites, which lasted hours and concluded with us standing around the scorching inferno of hell notes and a three story paper bungalow (complete with servants and blinking lights) holding hands in a circle, in some sinister parody of a campfire circle, I got the mother of all headaches and was so completely pissed off with most of the people there that I honestly dreaded going there again tomorrow and wear that sweaty funeral wear again. It wasn't the most respectful I've been at a funeral, but this funeral was a microcosm of everything nauseating society is capable of producing - squabbles over money, relations souring over money, the works. I don't know about you, but I'm not the most sociable person in normal circumstances, placing me in this situation is akin to bombarding my social barricades with hails of arrows and ladders (ever seen The Two Towers? Yeah, that) and expecting me to smile. No fucking chance in the world.

But it's all over now, and in retrospect, I pity the matriarch, because in her wake (in both ways) she leaves a trail of broken marriages (true) and uncordial relations, and these things can probably never be healed with all the money and property she has. But heck, it really was pretty amusing to observe people at funerals.

And now I must really read Tristram Shandy. Sorry for all the bad grammar and spelling.



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