Air Castles
I dreamt of something last night which revolved around a recurring theme - the cars I drive in my dreams can NEVER brake properly!! The weirdest thing is my indifferent reaction to such a panic attack, worst case scenario situation. In my car dreams, I'd realise the brakes feel unusally "loose", as if I can push them in with my little toe (drive barefoot. haha) and the back of my mind goes "Uh-oh, the brake's funny.". Yet, somehow when I'm approaching the vehicle in front, I'd still keep my cool and just keep on stepping on the brakes. My car would move
closer and closer to the one in front of me
without any sign of the brakes functioning...
Then miraculously, it manages to stop in time before it hits the other damn car.
There are a few interpretations I could make out of these recurring car dreams, I suppose.
1. I have really good traffic karma.
2. I am indeed as cool as a cucumber and remain unfazed even under Fear Factor conditions.
3. I have schizoprenia and my "license" is one that merely exists in my imagination.
It feels weird to be talking about driving when the last time I touched my dad's car from the driver's seat was more than 7, 8 months ago? Oh wait wait, I think I sat in the driver's seat a few weeks back and meddled with the clutch and stuff while my parents were out of the car getting some grocery done. OMG. CHEAP THRILL. I considered "re-parking" the car for revision, but too many people were waiting for parking lots and movement from anyone who might look remotely like a car owner aroused much interest and engine-purring. So, I crawled back to the back seat. :(
On the same note but separate tone now. To me, the passenger seat must be saved for special people. Someone should really write a sequel for Serendipity except this time round the couple meets through hitchhiking and not at a skating ring.
I can't bloody skate.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me
Yeah, I'm
that tired. On my way to patenting the Theory of Cumulate Fatigue, which states that accumulated fatigue increases exponentially with every day of tiredness. Oh wait, Fatigue Multiplier may stick better. Hah. Hopefully, I'll win a Nobel Prize soon.
On a separate note, something's been proven today - the things/people you least want to encounter will always have a way of getting to you. And those you tried so hard to forget will always resurface and come to you at the most unexpected hour. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
The comatose nap definitely came in handy. Little Miss Nice wouldn't know what to do otherwise.
when everything else is au fait
Sunday, March 11, 2007
This Sunday
Today is the first Sunday in a long long while I'd not have to peddle my tutoring services as a start to the new week. I contemplated writing about how I spent the day because nothing exciting happened, yet quite a bit unusualness wormed its way into the mundanity of it all, which brings me... here.
For a start, an unusual 9 hours was spent on studying/working on the gazillion assignments due. It felt more like 900 hours, really. If there's an award for "Lappie That Knows Its Owner's Face Best", it's gotta be my overworked and under-maintained darling. The excessive hours spent staring at a glossy widescreen is evoking my nostalgic feelings for the silly primary school 'eye relaxation' exercises. Hah.
I also discovered calamine has the most unusual scent - it smells faintly like poster colour paint. Its watery texture bears an uncanny resemblance to the kind of poster paint produced when one gets the paint-to-water proportion wrong. For me to reach out for the bottle of pink lotion so many times a day can only mean the rashes on my legs need some attention soon. Preferably tomorrow morning.
Hokkien music, an annoying neighbour, Lunlun's outbursts of adultish declarations, Meimei's wailing, and a homemade steamboat dinner (for no special reason at all) made up the rest of the day.
Mundane, but unusual.
when everything else is au fait
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
The Sweet Escape (If I Could)
I took a bite of the lil' blue gummy bear,
With the familiar typical
Outline,
Texture,
Taste.
I stared at my furrowed eyebrows in the bathroom mirror,
After the usual customary
Wipe,
Scrub,
Wash.
I'm resting my lips on the knuckle of my left index finger,
The marks are coming back, back
With a vengeance,
Redder,
Faster.
when everything else is au fait
Sunday, March 04, 2007
What It Means To Me
"The dressers" shall be what I call them. It lies in the subtlety of colour coordination in the littlest things - lipstick and hairbands, I'd appreciate that (hah). Looking like you
own it, like it's effortless. Above all, have some regard for comfort. :)
I wonder how many like-minded people I can find who agrees with me on this.
when everything else is au fait
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Sexybackkk!
This must be the GREATEST indulgence in trashy fascinations. Incidentally, it is also the major distraction conflicting my grow-hair-long objectives for the past year or so.
VB's done it again. Will you look at this, she's the quintessence of sleekness.
To think the previous Pob was her ultimate trump card! The poser had more tricks up her sleeve. Bravo bravo. :) Loves it.
Nonetheless, here's a tribute to my hairdo fixation for 2006.
You know what they say - When your hair looks good, your husband looks good too. ;)
when everything else is au fait
