Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Turning My Back

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It sucks that I keep forgetting to bring home the steamer. I am fast running out of wrinkle-free clothes to wear. Plus right now, I only have two pairs of wearable shoes (the others need to be washed or thrown out) and I have no jeans that doesn't make my thighs look fat. I'm no fashionista, but I do like some semblance of choice in the morning. Drastic action needs to be taken. I'll start by bringing home the steamer. Then maybe a gym membership.

The last gym membership (actually it was a dance class but technically its exercise to me) failed partially because I just couldn't make it on time anymore and mostly because I was not happy with the financial transactions I had with the place. And I shudder at the thought of joining the ranks of the yuppies who wear gym clothes in the middle of Orchard Road, but maybe there's no choice. At this rate, my ass won't fit into anything.

I did go cycling after midnight during the CNY break. Not in the mood to get dressed to go out, not in the mood to stay home and do nothing. So I got on a bike and went away. I cycled the whole stretch of Tampines Road only to discover I didn't have the guts to get onto the expressway to Sengkang so I had to turn around and cycle all the way back.

I tried to call the models to arrange to meet for a clarification interview as I did the captions for the photo essay. English over the phone can be difficult without accompanying hand gestures. Nataly said she'll call me back, but she never did and so I headed home.

I usually try to board at the end of the trains for more standing room, but today the train arrived just as I stepped onto the platform. Its always such an event for me, deciding which carriage to enter and which door to enter it by. Today's choice was made slightly easier by the fact there was a rather attractive dude who would've improved an otherwise dull ride with some eye candy.

But things always happen when you least expet it, and Nataly stepped out as I was about to step in. She didn't see me of course, I was lost in the sea of people. But its not difficult to spot a 1.8m tall girl.

So we went grocery shopping and had dinner and I did the interview. I found it difficult trying to simplify the question "How do you feel about being judged only by your looks all the time."

She tried to understand what I meant, and kept silent for awhile and then said:

"You can't recognise somebody you are not."

She probably meant something else, but that line really stuck with me for some reason.

And as the theme of the night (expecting the unexpected) continued, I just HAD to bump into the dude I met a week ago. Smart, funny, subtle, I had thought about him briefly in the morning (why did he NOT CALL) and I shrugged it off (or tried to anyway). I debated initiating contact. Then I remembered how the other attempt in the past went and decided against it.

So yes, running into someone you're interested in when you look like shit (with a model next to you for comparisons too!) and when he's with a very attractive girl is just not a nice way to end the night. But well, no love lost and no harm done. Just the way things are.

And I kept thinking of what someone said a year or two ago. She said, "When you get older, you realise there are just some people not worth wasting your time on."

Maybe its true. There are some people who certainly fall into that category. At 23, I think I do have time to waste - but maybe I just lack the energy these days. So, well yeah. Fuck off!

And I just have that nagging feeling others have come to the same conclusion about me as well. Ah well.

One of my bosses told me today that I have to be more ruthless in my work. I completely disagreed with him, but he said it would come with age. I continued to argue, but now I wonder if I am already more ruthless than he is. Which is worse? To take advantage of another's money, or to take advantage of another's trust?

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Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Rolling into Town


Euro FunPark is now in Hougang. Amidst the swirling neon lights and swooshing metal, there's a chance for me to feel something again.

I wore a dress to work today, much to the derision of most people. I probably shouldn't have done it on Valentine's Day. It is hard to argue with logical causal connections. I appreciate compliments, although I am terrible at receiving them. But somehow I don't know if it is a compliment to receive compliments only when you wear a skirt. For sure, feminity is very appreciated, and that pisses me off slightly for some strange and probably illogical reason.

No longer feel that urge to drink. I still have drinks, but my bottle of gin at home has not been touched in weeks, and that's a better indication of my alcoholic habits.

I like that the carnival is here, because I want to get on a ride and feel my stomach turn itself upside down, and my hair flying into my face, and my feet dangling in the air and my eyes darting to see everything from that height in that spilt second before the machine moves again.

I usually feel too much, but these days its been the opposite. Everything's slightly muted and grey. I used to drink to mute things, but now I want to find a way to turn up the volumn because the silence can get unnerving.

So my mom is upset, that I haven't been home much. And even when I am, I don't talk anymore. But how do I explain that I have nothing to say? And really, I just want the silence at home. I know I have completely contradicted myself. She asks if its work, or some boyfriend problem. She doesn't look convinced when I tell them its neither.

I had a conversation with Lars on the phone, and it was strange because I didn't remember him sounding the way he did. I wish it wasn't over the phone, I wished we were heading out for decent coffee at Somerset. I've been thinking a lot about Bangladesh, but then again I don't think I ever stop thinking about that place.

Yesterday I was trying to remember the way I did my laundry there. The system that I had, and that unreliable clothesline anchored to the mango tree on the rooftop that saw so many of my clothes blown by the wind onto the sandy floor. And all the places I would go have char at, and the late night rickshaw rides on the near empty streets, and the oily pizza place next door that made the world's worst fries.

And maybe I think about it so much because it is one of the rare things that make my grey, muted thoughts go ablaze with colour. I miss everything and I repost this photo in complete infringement of Lars' copyright.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

I saw this and I instinctively purred.