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Thursday, January 28, 2010 Super fun day!! Had a quick doc's appointment, then went for lunch with Emman at around Raffles Place. Had some korean food and we stuffed ourselves with the appetizers (can re-fill 3 times!) and oophmmm was so full when we left. Headed down to Orchard and met some unpleasant shop lady who said I couldn't try the dress on coz my hips too big. WELL SHE DIDNT HAVE TO FUCKING SHOUT ACROSS THE STORE. Then I got pissed, bitched to a few and had a Peach Tart from Hans' and saw some cute clothes at another store with a super duper nice boutique associate. YAY! New clothes! Toilet blues Wednesday, January 27, 2010 My mom found out from the Feng Shui master that our toilet (the one along the hallway) is where our Wealth is located at. Therefore, we are forbidden to use it WEF 4 February 2010. FOR A WHOLE FREAKING YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Thumb. Tuesday, January 26, 2010 Eyann announced that Jon had left the company and Clair just burst out about how unfair it was that he left and had to forfeit his salary and pointed out how the planned leave and public holidays should not be deducted, then Eyann (Jarrod was not in yet) said that many companies practice that and also the working hours was brought up too coz including all the OT hours and staying late etc, the temps are getting paid like 4.30/hour which is so shity. Clair looked at me to comment, but I was so shocked by this outburst, I didn't even know what to say and even if I wanted to say something, I didn't even verify my facts yet and knowing Eyann, she would make it seem like the other party was the one at fault. Jarrod came in the middle and then Eyann still kept like giving lame excuses. Then Clair packed up and left. Jerlyn spoke up about how she was shocked nobody leaves at 6:30pm and always stay late (but I thought that was a weak argument coz they don't make you stay late, it's because the work is not done! and if we do the debriefing late, it's coz the others are not ready). Then somehow the argument ended there and Clair started packing up her things and said she wants to take day off today coz she can't work anymore. Later, Jarrod asked Jerlyn for a short meeting in the room and asked her what happened. Then during lunch, Janice went with them. After lunch, Chloe had a meeting with them regarding the pay. They haven't spoken to me yet. I doubt they will but I will bring up my commissions and incentives since I'm leaving. I'm really happy Clair spoke up but it was too sudden and not the way I would have done it and she's disappointed coz we didn't support her. But I didn't know what to say at that point!!! I cried in the bathroom later on and during lunch I called my mom. I asked her that if we left the company but we were going to get commission, do we still get it, she said of course (Jenelle told me no). During lunch, Chloe called MOM again and get some really good facts. Then again, they are below 21 and so they are somewhat well protected by the law... but the line is quite blurred, we'll see. Monday, January 25, 2010 Les girls are having a revolution, damn I love them. We'll see who's the loser now. Had a fun day at work and met a really awesome candidate, too bad he thinks I'm weird and probably insulted. The ghost who came to say he was sorry - Chuck Palahniuk Sunday, January 24, 2010 A friend of mine lives in a "haunted" house. It's a nice, white farmhouse in the country, surrounded with gardens, and every few weeks he'll call in the middle of the night to say, "Someone is screaming in the basement. I'm going down with my gun, and if I don't call you back in five minutes, send the police!" It's all very dramatic, but it's the kind of complaint that smells like a boast. It's the psychic equivalent of saying, "My diamond ring is so very heavy." Or, "I wish I could wear this thong bikini without everyone lusting after me." My friend refers to his ghost as "the Lady," and he complains about not getting any sleep because the Lady was up all night, rattling pictures on the walls and resetting the clocks and thumping around the living room. This is a practical man who's never believed in ghosts. I'll call him Patrick. Until he moved out to this farm, Patrick was like me: stable, practical, reasonable. Now I think he's full of it. To prove this, I asked him to let me house-sit his farm while he was away on vacation. I needed the isolation and quiet to write, I told him. I promised to water the plants, and he went off and left me there for two weeks. Then I threw a little party. This man, he's not my only deluded friend. Another friend -- I'll call her Brenda -- says she can see the future. Over dinner, she'll ruin your best story by suddenly drawing a huge gasp, covering her mouth with her hand, and rearing back in her chair with a look of wide-eyed terror on her face. When you ask what's wrong, she'll say, "Oh. . . nothing, really." Then close her eyes and try to shake the terrible vision from her mind. When you persist, she'll take your hand in hers and beg you, "Please, please. Just stay away from automobiles for the next six years." For the next six years! Brenda and Patrick, they're odd but they're my friends, always hungry for attention. "My ghost is too loud. . ." "I hate being able to see the future. . ." For my little house party, I planned to invite Brenda and her psychic friends out to the haunted farmhouse. I planned to invite another group of stupid, ordinary friends who aren't troubled with any special extrasensory gifts. We'd drink red wine and watch the mediums flit around, lapsing into trances, channeling spirits, doing their automatic writing, levitating tables, while we laughed politely behind our hands. So a dozen people arrived at the farmhouse. And Brenda brought two women I'd never met, Bonnie and Molly, both of them already swooning from the ghost energy they felt there. Okay, all my friends were swaying a little. But for the sane ones, it was the red wine. We all sat around the dining-room table, a couple of lighted candles in the center, and the psychics went to work. First, they turned to my friend Ina. Ina's German and sensible. Her idea of expressing emotion is to light another cigarette. These mediums, Bonnie and Molly, they'd never met Ina before, but they took turns telling her how a woman's spirit was beside her. The woman was named Margaret and was showering Ina with tiny blue flowers. Forget-me-nots, they said. And suddenly, Ina put down her cigarette and started crying. Ina's mother had died of cancer several years earlier. Her mother's name was Margaret, and every year Ina sprinkled forget-me-not seeds on her grave because they'd been her mother's favorite flower. Ina and I have been friends for 20 years, and these are details even I didn't know. Ina never talks about her dead mother, and now she's weeping and asking for more red wine. Having reduced my friend to a mess, Bonnie and Molly turned to me. They said a man was near me, standing just over my shoulder. He was, they both agreed, my murdered father. Oh, please. My father. Here, let's just take a little break from the nonsense. Anyone could know the details of my father's death. The strange, ironic circle. When he was 3 years old, his own father had shot his mother, then stalked my father around the house, trying to shoot him. My dad's first memories are of hiding under a bed, hearing his father call, and seeing his heavy boots walk past, the smoking barrel of the rifle hanging near the floor. While he hid, his father eventually shot himself. Then, my dad spent his life running from the scene. My siblings also say he spent his life trying to find his mother by marrying woman after woman. Always divorcing and remarrying. He'd been divorced from my mother for 20 years when he saw a personal ad in the newspaper. He started dating the author of the ad, not knowing she had a violent ex-husband. Coming home from their third date, the ex-husband shot them both in the woman's house. That was in April 1999. Really, these details have been published everywhere. The whole mess has gone to trial, and the murderer is sentenced to death. Bonnie and Molly needed no gifts to know any of this. But still they persisted. They said my father was very sorry for something he'd done to me when I was 4 years old. He knew it was cruel, but it was the only way he could think to teach me a lesson. Bonnie and Molly, they held hands and said they saw me as a small boy, kneeling beside a chopping block. My father was standing over me, holding something wooden. "It's a stick," they said, then said, "No it's not. It's an ax. ." The rest of my friends were quiet; Ina's weeping had effectively silenced their giggling. Bonnie and Molly said, "You're 4 years old, and you're deciding something very important. It's something that will shape the rest of your life. . ." They described my father sharpening his ax and said, "You're about to be. . ." they paused, "dismembered?" I pour another glass of wine and drink it. I pour another. I tell Bonnie and Molly, our guides to the ghost world, please tell me more. I smirk and say, "No, really, this is fascinating." Then they say, "Your father is very happy now. He's happier now than he ever was in his life on earth." Oh, isn't this always the case. A little scrap of comfort for the bereaved. Bonnie and Molly are just the same sort who have preyed on grieving people throughout history. At best, they're misguided, deluded fools. At worst, manipulative monsters. What I don't tell them is, when I was 4 years old I slipped a metal washer around my finger. It was too tight to remove, and I waited until my finger was swollen and purple before I asked my father for help. We'd always been told not to put rubber bands or anything tight around our fingers or we'd get gangrene and those bits would rot and fall off. My dad said we'd have to cut the finger off, and spent the afternoon washing my hand and sharpening the ax. The whole time, he also lectured me about taking responsibility for my own actions. He said that if I was going to do stupid things, I should be ready to pay the price. That whole afternoon, I listened. There was no drama, no tears or panic. In my 4-year-old mind, my father was doing me a favor. It would hurt, chopping off my fat, purple finger, but it would be better than the weeks of letting it rot. I knelt beside the chopping block, where I'd seen so many chickens meet a similar fate, and put out my hand. If anything, I was wildly grateful for my father's help, and resolved never to blame other people for stupid things I'd done. My father swung the ax, and of course he missed. We went inside, and he used soap and water to remove the washer. It's a story I'd almost forgotten. Almost forgotten, because I'd never told it to anyone. Because I knew other people wouldn't understand the lesson. All they'd see was my father's actions, and then label it cruelty. For 36 years it has been my secret. And my father's. And now these silly women, Bonnie and Molly, are telling it to me and all my drunken friends. No way was I going to give them any satisfaction. While Ina sobbed, I drank more wine. I smiled and shrugged, saying it was all very interesting prattle. A few minutes later, one of the women fell to the floor, ill, and asked for help getting to her car. The party broke up, and Ina and I stayed behind to finish the wine. It was disappointing, really, that stupid party. Watching my friends take this nonsense seriously. I can't explain Bonnie and Molly's little magic trick, but there's so much in the world I can't explain. The night my father was killed, hundreds of miles away, my mother had a dream. She said my father knocked at her door, begging her to hide him. In her dream, he'd been shot in the side -- a year later, the coroner would confirm this -- and he was trying to escape from a man with a gun. Instead of hiding him, my mother shut the door in his face. That same night, one of my sisters dreamed she was walking through the desert where we grew up. She was walking beside our father, telling him she was sorry they'd grown apart and not spoken recently. That night he died, I didn't have any dream. No one came to me in my sleep to say goodbye. Oh, I'd love to believe in an invisible world. It would undermine all the suffering and pressure of the physical world. But it would also negate the value of the money I have in the bank, my decent house, and all my hard work. All our problems and all our blessings could be readily dismissed because they'd be no more real than plot events in a book or movie. An invisible, eternal world would render this world an illusion. Really, the spirit world is like pedophilia or necrophilia: I have no experience with it so I am completely unable to take it seriously. It will always seem like a joke. There are no ghosts. But if there are, my dad should damn well tell me himself. Saturday, January 23, 2010 Went to Kinokuniya to find Tan Hwee Hwee's book but alas, the last time they last re-ordered it was in 2004. Guess I'll have to go to Bras Brasah to find a used copy or go to BUKIT FUCKING BATOK library. I was at the mrt after class and bumped into my classmate. I never spoke to her before and I asked where she was heading, she said town. I said I was going home, I feel like going out but I'm too tired. Then she said, come on, it's Saturday, you can rest tomorrow. So we boarded the train together. We chatted 2 stops then I got off. Yeah she's right, it was worth it. Got 2 new books! Changes Thursday, January 21, 2010  I started talking to her again after the so-called "misunderstanding" which I still think is her making up cock bull story on her part. I gave her benefit of a doubt and started talking to her like old friends again. Alas, this was not the case. I realised she only talks to me when it's anything work-related.I asked her out to check out some book stores tomorrow on one text and another regarding her job interview. She only replied to the latter. It just confirms what I was thinking, that she's not interested in being friends. Which sucks. We could have had so much fun, but I guess she needs to get her priorities straight. I'm out. Fuck people like her. Big Whoop. Tuesday, January 19, 2010 So the poseur suddenly asked us out for dinner. Dubious. Very dubious. I try not to think of it but J thinks we should go. I rather watch tv. She thinks she's going to ask for favours. They're not mine to give. We'll see. It's like she forgot how to be human again. Pieces by pieces Sunday, January 17, 2010  I had funny dreams last night. Te Tee and I watched An Education and swooning over Carey Mulligen's awesome wardrobe and porcelain skin and wide-eye wide-smile sunshine looks. We tried to watch Precious too but it was too heavy. We finished watching at 3:30am and girl talked a bit more and then zzz. I felt into a semi deep sleep and dreamt about being at work. I woke up briefly and went back to sleep and dreamt about Troy Chin. I was with Tee Tee and we went to his favourite hang out. It was an odd looking sports bar/cafe. We sat at his table and he asked if we could vacant it. We were like alright and we went to find Mee Mee. She slipped and twisted her ankle and the rest of the dream, I was trying to find ice cubes for her and kept getting faced with weird obstructions. It was another running dream again. Editorials I like Tuesday, January 12, 2010  Scout Taylor-Compton  Georgia May Jagger The Therese Marie Chan Day Sunday, January 10, 2010 HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOUNG LADY!! Here's some photos we took this week (surprising, I realised all the pictures I took were of her, hee hee) Met her on dunno which day for a quickie dinner at Raffles City (my fave!) and she showed me something cute  Except the head kept turning, when she took it out, the head was facing backwards so exorcist man!!  Looking tres gorgeous last night when we were at Molly Malone's - LOVE THE "riding motorbike without helmet" wind blown hair and cutesy little mad hatter topper      With the babes  With me!!  Some hot love  And some cement love  Lady Gaga wishes Miss Chan a Happy birthday!! Thursday, January 7, 2010 Why can't people just admit they made a mistake, everybody does. Just got the fuck off with this idiot. She made a mistake about something and after I clarified, she turned it into "I was right all along" - FUCKING FOOL! Recap. Tuesday, January 5, 2010 Really upset with the discovery of two newly-made friends, turned out to be INCREDIBLY FUCKING FAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At work, at play Monday, January 4, 2010 They hired 2 new temps. I'm surprised. I didn't get a good feeling about X, and Y was kinda.. blah. The managers rattled on and on today, they both looked bombed at the end of the day. After work, I went to Food Republic and it was freaking awesome!! I love the decor, so spacious and clean. The food was so-so. I saw a guy fairer than me - how's that possible!? New Year's Eve Saturday, January 2, 2010  To have a party, must have atmosphere  Must have a good host like me  Welcome to my humble (haunted) house - hope you get out ALIVE!!  Have everybody dress up  In the meantime, can shot some B grade horror blue movie too haha  Have some fierce guests  Gotta have some music too  Sexy time on the piano  More sexy time on the piano  Have good food obviously, something spicy  Something sweet  And something very smokin'  Jump around and have fun!     Take some funny cock pictures    Tell a few fortunes  Have then end the evening looking gorgeous    Good night (ok we definitely didn't end up sleeping coz Shi Yin came over and hung out for a bit and Sherman told hilarious stories!! And then after they left, we went to Shop and Save, and got ingredients to make butterbeer and I made mee for Tee Tee and I and Mee Mee made the butter beer which wasn't too bad really, then we adjourned to the bedroom for some kinky time of spooning and forking and we all fell asleep) HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Thanks for making it so special, dream come true!! | |