Miscellaneous

A World Of Our Own

7:27 PM

A simple kiss.


A simple afternoon spent together.


A simple cold cold night. 

Or.... I leave it to you how you're going to interpret that one. Hehe.


Cause if you like it you shoulda put a ring on it.

Miscellaneous

When I'm Single

6:44 PM


I think it's a test.

I'm referring to the pic above, but put it in my context.

I'm trying to be very serious about my relationship, but then I just don't know why there will be things like an ex-crush calling out of the blue, being cruised in my apartment's swimming pool, and handsome men just appearing out of thin air all of a sudden.

It is fun when I'm single, but not when I am attached.

Anyway, 9gag is awesome!
Miscellaneous

Strange Dream

1:44 AM
There's this dream I had yesterday which was very weird.

On this sidewalk, like the sidewalk at Pavilion, stood quite a number of very beautiful models. There's this one guy who is very dashing at there too. Now my dream is from his perspective.

He was then told to model a watch. The watch is very peculiar, because the bezel and the strap changes colour every time you press a button on the side of the watch. It looks very expensive and very well made.

Suddenly, there's news coming from the other models saying that somebody in their group has been murdered. It's a woman, an Asian, with looks like Du Juan. If you know about the fashion world, you'll know who I'm talking about.

Then, he was ushered into a car and told to drive to the place where the fashion show will start. The car is in white, Jaguar like, with black leather seats. I can feel that he's very flustered and a bit dazed about what is happening. For some unknown reason, he tried to start the car and drive, but the car is very very slow, with misplaced pedals and brakes. On his mind, is the murdered model, her face playing continuously in his head.

Then the dream shifted to the place where the fashion show is being held. I am now no longer the dashing model, but one of the female models who is going down the runway. The clothes that the models are wearing is something like Versace, but the cut is not sexy but minimalist like Celine. I even saw that the bag that they're carrying is quilted in white, boxy, with silver chain strap, and with baroque prints.

When she stepped on to the runway, she suddenly had a vision that the runway is stained with blood and there's a pool of blood in the middle. Shocked, she tried to remain calm and composed until she has finished walking the runway. There are a lot of fashion icons sitting on the front row but I couldn't remember who.

Then, the fashion show has ended. The fashion show is actually in this very beautiful standalone store of the brand that the fashion show is for. Remember I told you about the clothes are Versace like? It may be so, but the brand is actually Givenchy, a very different kind of Givenchy, not the one by Ricardo Tisci.

Then, the dream shifted to me being myself, walking into the store, and chatting with the sales assistants. I even tried some of the leather clutches that they sell. It's a very beautiful brown, almost maroon, stamped with gold letters of the brand's name in the front. At the end of the brand's name is the word "porto". Then somebody who looks like Donatella Versace walked past me to take a file from one of the shelves. I excused myself from getting in her way.

Then, I woke up.

So strange. It feels like watching a movie somehow.
Miscellaneous

Poisonous Friends

5:37 PM
It saddens you when you know that the people whom you used to know will do something so wrong towards you.

I won't mention who and I won't mention what happened. Let's just say I've been taken for granted to the max.

To think that I used to do so much and even care for them when they have problems? Another few people to cross off from my wedding invitation list.

Even their group of friends think that they behave in such unimaginable selfish ways.  And I, only noticed it like a few days ago. How fucking stupid have I been!

Never again. Now I cease all contacts with them unless I have important matters. It's just a "Hi" and "Bye" from now on.

Fuck you, fuck you very very much.

Maybe I'll write about what really happened next time. Ciao.
Miscellaneous

What Are Tears For

3:56 AM
My relationship with my boyfriend is in a very stable mode. That's what my boyfriend thinks. He feels very comfortable with it.

On my side, I always think that there's something needed to be done. Something needed to be amended. The glass is always half-full, with more to pour.

As you know, these few days I'm so stressed. I think a lot of stuff and I start to think about poisonous thoughts about our relationship. It's not about him, it's about me. I start to doubt about our relationship. I start to think that he's not doing enough, but he already did what he can in his power among his busy schedules.

And it poisoned my mind.

It poisoned my mind till I couldn't think straight, that I start to feel that he's not there when I need him. But logically, he totally cannot be there at that time.

In the end, I told him what I feel today. Being the more patient and wiser one, he listened, digested and told me about his thoughts.

We talked to a point that both of us feel that my problem has gone out of hand. We got quiet for a moment. Then, he looked at me straight in the eye.

Those eyes at that time were like pleading me to reconsider what I was thinking right there and then, pleading me to stay, pleading me not to leave.

Then, I cried. This time, it's like the falls after a monsoon season.

It trickles a little. Then bit by bit, it increases till it's like a raging wall of water.

The reason why I cried is because it struck me subconsciously that I do not have much time with him before I leave for Singapore. With a schedule that I'm having now, how can I do enough to make me feel that I have enough assurance to last me for the next 5 years?

The other reason why I cried is because I love him so much that it hurts me very much to leave and go far far away.

Then, when I started to settle down, my tears starting to dry up, then the radio just blasted:

"I have died, everyday... Waiting for you... Darling don't be afraid I have loved you... For a thousand years..."

Then I went into full blast wailing mode.

And I just fell into his arms. He hugged, comforted, making me feel so loved.

Tears start to roll as I type this.

You may think that I'm an emo freak here and the only thing that I did not inherit from my mum is her vagina, but when you find someone who is so dependable on those three major things of a relationship (which are sincerity, loyalty and honesty, besides love) you'll know why I do so.

But one of the greatest things that I inherited from my mum is "tears". They're very precious, extremely good at cleaning the soul, and only usable to people that worth mattering very much to you.

I don't know what I'll do if I don't have you, Swan Prince. I thank God for sending you my way.

Thank you for your patience in handling this man with a vagina in his brain, my love.

Miscellaneous

I Really Beh Tahan Already

6:07 PM
Writing letters, writing essays, getting permissions, doing rotoscoping, found out that I have periodontitis (that's another story to tell), thinking more ideas, shoot music video, shoot advertisement, do website....

All in the next few weeks.

No life, no health, and nothing positive that I can gain from doing all these things.

If you ever have friends or people who ask you about your opinion about graphic design or advertising, tell them it takes one hell of an amount of patience, coffee and painkillers.

Don't ever EVER belittle those advertisements and posters that you see on TV or on the streets. You never know how much effort is put into doing all that.

I really really REALLY BEH TAHAN.

Miscellaneous

Escape

10:46 PM
You know when you are so stressed that you start to dream that you are enjoying a holiday?

Yesterday my dream was about me and my family, in this beautiful island enjoying one of the beautiful beaches. The beach even has a waterfall, so the water flows right from the waterfall and straight into the ocean.

Flowers were blooming here and there, the sun was shining, and I'm just enjoying myself very much.

So behind the beach was this water theme park that's kind of run down and not functioning anymore. I explored the place like a kid, with pleasant surprises in every corner.

Then, I woke up.

God, hear me please. I'm so stressed that I can go into emo mode suddenly, which then makes me toss and turn on the bed, and then stress, and then I cry.

OMG I'm so woman than a woman. I should have just grow a vagina right there and then.

I want to escape. :'-(
Stories

What Is Not Mine, Is Not Mine

1:33 AM
It's been some time since I've posted anything, due to my very busy schedule. To spice things up a bit, here's a story from BlowingWind forum, a gay forum for Singaporean guys. Originally entitled "What Fucking Lies Beneath."

It's a bit erotic, so do read this when you're alone to avoid sudden erections, causing embarrassment.

___________________________________________________________________________


Three years ago, I came to Singapore for a job posting. Singapore was at the heights of the property boom. The skyline of the island-state was dotted with cranes and construction signboards. Newspapers had more property launch advertisements than news. Everyone seems to be either moving house, buying a house, or profiting from the soaring price index.

Home prices skyrocketed so fast; the day I arrived I was shocked to discover that the rental of one-bedroom I earlier eyed upon had more than doubled, and with my housing allowance, I could afford no more than a puny room, probably in the outskirts.

Unknown to many, I was actually homeless for the first month in Singapore. I parked my luggage underneath my office desk and slept over in the airport. It was until I saw an ad in the supermarket notice board one day: “Store room for rent, contact XXXXXXXX, $300 per month!”

I called the number straight away, and a deep husky voice answered. It was the kind of voice that was probably produced by a huge Adam’s apple, and drawn from a big beer gut.

“It’s a storeroom, not a bedroom, but you can take a look if you like,” he said with some hesitation. “But it has windows, so perhaps you can live there if you want,” he then assured me. He sounded like a father figure. The gruff in his voice betrayed an affable, blue collar senior. Somehow after weeks camping out on the airport bench, what can be worst? I decided to make my way to the address on the advert.

The address was near the port, not more than half an hour’s drive from the city. Location was great. The apartments were actually previously sailors’ barracks, but subsequently privatised. Two rows of three-storey walk-ups, salt box-roofed, probably built in the 50s, looking rather quaint in this modern city.

The unit was on the top floor, the door was solid teak with a brass knob. I softly pounded on it, my vision was lured to a lighthouse in the distance, and ships blurring into the horizon. Nice view.
I heard the rusty door hinge squeaked, and a round but firm stomach tucked under a Heineken logo-emblazoned T-shirt and faded workman pants greeted my eyes. “Hi, you are Chin?” he said with a friendly growl.