Splinter's (Warped) World

Chapter XVII

2009-07-07T00:37:00.003+08:00

She came today. And left.
She collected her things and we talked. What else?
I picked up my camera. That's what else.
For some sick messed up reason I picked up that camera and snapped away as we discussed why she was breaking my heart, as if I had some sickening urge to document the death of one of the most important relationships in my life thus far.

Why did I do it? I don't know. The fact that I put them up on DeviantArt only adds to the twistedness. And now the look on her face is forever immortalised in those pictures, eating away at me every time I see them. There are no models here, no actors. These expressions are not faked, the emotion is not false. It's ironic because I've always wanted the look of real emotions in my photography, and I found it in the demise of my own romance.

My god, I love her.

And I hate myself for it.

Broken

2009-07-07T00:31:00.001+08:00

I don't usually announce things like this over my personal blog, let alone DeviantArt as well.
But for some reason I feel like it. If I'm gonna be depressed ythey can all be depressed with me.

She has decided that it was time to end our relationship, for both our sakes, and she has left me broken. I don't know how long this will take to heal. I keep hoping against hope that it was a mistake, that we will be together again, that she will somehow miraculously fall in love with me, the way I seem to have fallen for her.
But it is extremely unlikely she will come back to me.
And deep down, I think maybe what she did was right. Even if it does make me want go to sleep and wake up dead.

On the plus side though, the last time she made me feel like throwing myself off a cliff, I ended up producing what I think are brilliant photos.
So who knows, maybe I'll create something mind-blowingly depressing and impressing.

Yes, I realise that I'll probably regret writing all this up here some time in future but I'll worry about it then.

See ya.

'Your Hair Smells of Smoke' - A Song I Wrote

2009-03-23T14:10:00.002+08:00

I can feel you’re not asleep anymore.
You crawl out of bed and then tiptoe to the door.
Put on the hoodie with the rips and the tears.
The hall light seems to whisper as it plays through your hair.
And for one,
Second split,
If I had to choose one thing to remember, maybe that would be it.

From the doorway I admire your stride.
I don’t feel as warm, even though we’re inside.
You slide the glass, its cold but you don’t seem to care.
I love you in just a jumper and underwear.
You’re insane,
I can see.
It’s just one more reason why you seem to mean so much to me.

Why do I still stay?
When every single day I’m fine until I,
Predictably start thinking of how you want him that way.

Creep up behind you, let me have you to hold.
Put my hand on your stomach and I’ll never let go.
Light up a cigarette and we'll stay here for a while,
your hair smells softly of smoke and I can't help but smile.
And it’s strange,
but it’s true.
I don’t care for that smell as much as when I smell it on you.

6AM brings out the colour of flowers,
from here on the couch I could just watch you for hours.
You say I’m crazy and you’re probably right.
I can barely sleep at all when I don’t have you at night.
And the smile,
that you give,
when you catch me staring at you makes me feel like I just don’t need to live.

But why do I still stay?
When every single day I’m fine until I,
Predictably start thinking of how you want him that way.

There’s nothing wrong with him, he’s not too old.
Strong and attractive with hair and heart of gold.
Whenever I see him my heart starts to race.
Every kind word he says to me’s a blow to the face.
It’s a joke,
And it’s cruel,
He’s the star of your life so I guess that must make me your fool.

Why do I still stay?
When every single day I’m fine until I,
Predictably start thinking of how you want him that way.

Why do I still stay?
Should I get down and pray
For you to stop using my heart as a ball in this game you play?

Feeling Good

2009-02-08T23:55:00.002+08:00

For the first time in half a decade or so, I believe, I am feeling it again.

What is he feeling? Ill? Cold? Sweaty? Is he in love? Has he contracted yet another potentially fatal, sexually-transmitted disease?

For the first time in a long time, I have a crush on a girl. I want to write it down here so that I might remember it for as long as possible. It could be gone tomorrow and I want to remember that for at least a few days, I felt happy.

I'd forgotten how good it feels - the butterflies in the stomach and idiotic grin when seeing pictures of them, the helpless insta-smile as soon as you see them no matter what mood you're in, the fact that you can't get them out of your head.

It is 3 AM, I have to go the toilet, I have been having slight fallouts with friends and had date plans ditched by various girls. I haven't slept properly in about 4 days and it is insufferably hot in here, but because of the fact that I can't stop picturing a certain pretty smiling face, I'm perfectly fine.

So no matter what happens, I'm glad I felt like this again.

Chapter XVI

2008-09-09T09:27:00.003+08:00

It's been a while since I've written here.
I used to say that I only write here when I'm having a particularly bad day, and as a result all of the entries here seem melancholy and dark. Well, that's not necessarily true. I've had plenty of bad days in the last eleven months or so, but usually I just talk it out with a friend. I'm still not sure why today I've decided to write instead of converse.

My ex girlfriend sent me a letter explaining everything she felt and apologising for her negative actions towards me, asking for forgiveness. Whether I will actually give it is irrelevant at present. What is relevant is that she called me, among various other things, vain and shallow. After a bit of thought, I have come to believe that she is probably right.

I focus far too much upon my physical appearance, even though it is nothing compared to many other young men my age out there. I used to claim that this was due to indecisiveness and anal retentiveness on my part, always ensuring that everything was just so. This is tied in with self-consciousness. I always have the slight feeling that everyone around me is staring at me and so if I have one hair on my head out of place, I shall be judged as being aesthetically deficient. These wonderful, admirable attributes of my personality coupled together seem to result in what appears to be vanity.

Recently, I have picked up the camera and photography has become my passion. At first it was simple landscapes or candid shots, but now I have become focussed, it seems, upon using models. These are not just any models, but only the ones I see fit to be photographed. That is, only the ones I am attracted to (female) or wish I could look like (male). Several of my friends have hinted at using themselves as models, or perhaps their own friends in my shots, but I have always conveniently failed to follow these suggestions up. This is simply because their face is not aesthetically satisfactory in my opinion, or because they do not have a fashion sense I approve of, or simply because they are not skinny enough (or in rare cases, too skinny). This is my most extreme example of what seems to be shallowness, an obsession with skin-deep beauty.

However, if I put the reasoning behind my two obsessions together, they simply turn into one. Self-consciousness leads not only to paranoia of being judged, but also judging of others. A mirror is still a view of someone to be judged by appearance. But perhaps they are one and the same. My vices are not vanity and shallowness, my vice is simply and obsession with the aesthetical and an urge to attain it. My vice is a love and desire of physical beauty.

Now that I think about it I had always felt this way throughout my life (Hollywood didn't help), but it was not until recently when I came to this country that I suddenly had the money, time and unrestricted effort to pursue my goal of looking the way I wanted. Once that was secure, it seems I turned my eyes to the wonderful joyous evils of DeviantArt. It was there that I discovered beautiful pictures of people around the world who were gorgeous beyond my imagination, with perfect faces and perfect bodies, depicted in perfect lighting in perfect settings. Over months, I hoarded what I saw to be were the best pictures from the website, never anything but photography, and almost never anything but photos of models. And then I picked up the camera myself.

This ugly secret (about being obsessed with beauty, oh the irony) runs deeper than I previously realised. Every close female friend I have, I have either dated, flirted with, romantically loved, been physically intimate with, or at least had a crush on. None of them are what I would call ugly, and if I review my track record, being deemed 'not ugly' by me is apparently quite an achievement. This means that I only have attractive female friends, subconsciously selected by me. Does this mean I will never be able to befriend a girl or woman that is not up to par with my aesthetic standards?

This is wrong. Why do I feel this way? I feel sickened by myself. I disgust me. What kind of person am I to be obsessed like this? It's not like I'm bolemic or anorexic, is it? Surely I don't need to see professional help... This is my problem, I need to fix it.
...But what the hell am I supposed to do?

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. Hate me because on the inside at least, I am hideous.

Chapter XV

2007-10-17T22:52:00.000+08:00

I thought I'd left it behind. That ridiculous teenager's view of life that could be compared to that of a washed-out, alcoholic, old soap-opera actor. The view in which I've seen it all before, nothing new impresses me and I've thought over all the complicated parts of life so many times and dissected it so many ways that it's such a chore to even begin the form even a single thought about it again. Tonight I had a flash of that again, that which I thought I had left behind almost three years ago. It was almost nostalgic. Had it been a vivid flashback of a happy memory, it would have been almost enjoyable.

There’s nothing like a couple of good heartbreak movies or television shows to tug at the old heartstrings of your own beating mass of bloody pulp. Not only could I relate to the ridiculous events in those audio-visual tales and the resulting feelings displayed by the characters but I of course could not help but think about past events of my own life.

Having reconciled somewhat with my first love I find myself in an awkward position: I don't really have anyone to blame anymore for who I am today. I don't have the energy anymore to go into specifics about what I loathe about myself right now but if you're an avid reader of this rarely updated internet diary then you should already be roughly familiar with what I’m not comfortable with.

Love is a strange thing. Annoying, irritating, and recurring. Just when you think you might be rid of it, it comes back to haunt you. An unwanted visitor in a broken home that has just begun to repair itself into some empty, inferior form of its former self. I’m losing my people skills. Whatever confidence and charisma I once had seems to be lost, replaced with a silence and lethargy that seems to increase intensity the longer I let it drag on. I thought, not so long ago, that a relationship would save me from this situation, would rescue and revitalise me but now seeing friends start and end them makes me think again. Perhaps I’m not ready for another relationship. Perhaps heartbreak hotel is the home for me and when I go out I should look but not touch. I realise how pathetic and depressing that sentiment seems to be but if I force myself not to think of it as such then it seems almost reasonable. Sacrificing potential self happiness in exchange for others' could be seen as going hand in hand with such a situation and I believe I’m well on the way with that.

I still can't help feeling though, that there's just something or things missing from my life at present. And so in my present miserable and tired state of mind, what does one do? I have no idea. One might step out into the cold night air for a short trip to the nearest convenience store to obtain telephone credit. An effort to stay in contact with those who one cares about and keeps one sane and feeling appreciated in this awful desire-selling, fantasy-whoring, happiness-consuming world. On the way, one might flip out a little white stick and take drags of pollution, taking a little bit of death into one's body to kill you just that little bit more inside. I don't even really like it. At one point I swore never to do it and now I do it whenever I feel like swearing. It feels cool to casually kill yourself a tiny bit and take it in stride for the sake of promoting an image, even if you're just promoting it to yourself. It also makes me feel ill. Spit on the ground like a man to get that taste of ash and smoke off your tongue. That’s the taste of self-loathing, the taste of shame. Savour the flavour and then hurl out a big gob of self-disgust.

Another feeling seems to have returned to me, a blast from the past, only this one is so much more welcome.

It is the urge
To curl up into a ball, an impenetrable fist of tears and pain,
To fall asleep

And never
Never

Wake up again.

Chapter XIV

2007-07-05T23:11:00.000+08:00

This is not a love song. this is sunday bloody sunday.
that was not a whining session, that was a firefight and i kept firing.
I snapped at you. i got angry at you. when you left i barely even whispered 'bye'. as you walked away i stared into the endless abyss of the window of the train, which soon turned into a reflection of an angry boy staring into his own angry eyes. i glared at any body around me who dared to even glance at me and took out my music. i listened to all the songs that i had that would keep the adrenaline flowing, keep the anger fuelled. songs that you sort of like, songs that were too hard or angry for you, songs that reminded me of you.

you can't help who you like, i should know. even when i think i've finally stopped feeling that way for you, you still can make me hurt inside because you like him. you've kept this going for a while and i think it's too long to keep letting it slide. you have to come out, confront, accuse, get annoyed. it's what i would do. of course, look where i am. you are in fact a far more likeable person than i will ever be. the advice i give to you will never properly benefit you if you followed it. the advice i give you is about me wanting to protect you, to save you from things i have encountered, to save you from things i have seen others do, that i have seen myself do, and to save you from things that remind me of my own downfalls. you're a sister, a friend, a lover, an trainee and a part of me.

you scare me because of your mistakes and your approach. it was the same approach that my first love had towards life, towards problems. perhaps that is also part of why i feel all the ways i do about you, who knows.

but i do know that i felt bad inside today and so i had a go at you. now i feel terrible.

you tear me up inside in ways i cannot explain and do not wish to understand.

you are my little complication, and i love you.

Chapter XIII

2007-06-22T21:58:00.000+08:00

Irony. Sad irony. It's sadly ironic, I suppose, that it happened like that, with that girl. Sadly ironic that I feel this way after getting what I wanted. I've always wanted it. Even in kindergarten, I’m sure. I wanted it to happen when I was 15 before I was legal. It was the thrill of doing something wrong in different ways, and when that passed, I wanted it before I was 18. I thought it wouldn't happen before I was 19 but I was wrong.

It happened in the middle of the night, in the dark, on a bed, at the bottom of a vodka bottle, at the end of a laughing fit, which was a reaction to an unfunny joke. And as the only one sobering up after the experience, I was the butt of that joke. She doesn't even really remember it. They say that once you've had it you have this glow about you, and people always know. It's not true. I don't have some glow or aura about me. The glow comes from when you've experienced it with someone you're close to, someone you're in a relationship with.

I know it's not the same with girls as it is with guys so no I don't feel empty, no I don't feel hollow, no I don't feel robbed. It definitely wasn't as enjoyable as I thought it was going to be. Almost like the way Disney glorifies a kiss, only I would rather have had a hard-earned kiss from someone I wanted rather than what I got from someone I didn't care for. No, I don't feel any of the feelings I mentioned above. What I feel is a strange sense of regret. I’m not crying out for another chance, my regret isn't that drastic. I just feel that I should have been with someone I really cared for, if not a lover then at least a close friend. I understand that I now have made it before finishing my eighteenth year and I am grateful for that. I know that I always thought I would lose it to someone I barely knew and didn't really like, and it really didn't bother me but it's irritating to note how reality is so different from imagination.

Interestingly enough, now I crave for someone to be with more than ever, if only to experience what I did, but with someone I care for. How different will it be? Might I count that as my first time, as opposed to my experience a few nights ago?

C'est la fucking vie à l'université. Ha. A completely unintentional pun. Oh, the irony.
I'm going to bed. Alone.

Chapter XII

2007-05-19T19:54:00.000+08:00

I feel alone.
I don’t mean I’m all alone and nobody loves me. I won’t kill myself anytime soon. The closest friend I have here has lived in this city for the past five years, and so has his own friends to be with. To him I am a friend, but not one of the most significant people he has a relationship with here. To me, he is possibly the most significant person I have a relationship with here, in this city, this place. I don’t blame him. If I were in my own city and there was someone like me, someone who seemed to come only to me for almost any act of friendship, I would probably treat myself the same way. He probably treats me better than I would, in fact.

By the very act of writing this, I am acknowledging these facts. I know I can’t just latch onto him and hope everything will be ok. I know what it’s like to have a dependent person follow you around all the time, it’s not a pleasant concept. Why is it then, that I see only him as a proper friend in this place, this dormitory?

There is another like me, like me in that she counts only him and myself as actual friends here. I’m not sure why. Something to do with how people here are ‘fake’. I don’t quite understand what she means, but I have a feeling she would feel it even more in UWC. I wish I could be part of a group of friends again. A group of friends that went everywhere and did everything together. A group of friends where everyone in this group was each other’s main friends, closest friends. I had something like that once, in a city I knew and grew up in. that group grew smaller and smaller, and now is not only split up, but there are complications, complexities between us. Our circumstances change, our locations and environments are altered and familiar faces are swapped with those whom we never knew. Suddenly familiar people, places and circumstances are far away, the memories associated with them become the past. Unfamiliar people, unfamiliar places, unfamiliar circumstances become where we are.

You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone. You can’t miss them if you don’t leave. I’m not sure if what I left was as good as my mind is making it seem, but I believe that if I had it back I could try to make it better than what I am experiencing here.

I want to find someone. Obviously here would be the ideal location of this person. Someone who, when I was worrying, would laugh at my ridiculousness at love me for it. Someone who would admire my thinking and someone who would convince me to do ridiculous things with her. I wish I could find a girl who liked me for what I like. The music I like, the artwork I like, the clothes I wear, the colours of my hair, whatever it is that I embody. What is it that I embody? What singles me out compared with everyone else? What good, likeable, admirable thing singles me out from the rest? I don’t know. I wish someone did.

I’m having trouble holding conversations with people. I thought that around people who talk a lot, I stay quiet, and that around quiet people, I become the person that talks a lot. I’ve come to realise now that this is not quite as true as I had previously believed. I keep wanting to meet new people, but often nowadays I find myself floundering for something to say as they wait for me to ask them a question, now that I have answered theirs. I actually find it quite ridiculous, as I remember myself talking far too much in the past. How is it that I have come to be someone who says too little? I realise that there’s no immediate solution to this particular problem, but my only hope right now is that it does not continue when I return home.

Home. When I left it and came here, I had hoped that I would change.
But not like this.

My life was off-perfect before, to say the least.

But what the hell is happening now?

Chapter XI

2006-12-07T01:39:00.000+08:00

I wonder
what it's like
for the people who didn't go through a lot of negative events in their childhood.

for the people who didn't go through the things i did.
for the people who didn't get stung by what they thought was a bee, and then cry in front of the whole grade.
for the people who didn't get bullied by a boy who was intimidatingly tall.

I remember saying strange things to my peers and my schoolmates.
a bizarre blend of the truth about how i felt and what i saw on tv.
my parents had never told me it was wrong to tell people about how i felt. on tv the girls always went for the guy who showed he was sad or angry. the guy who could talk to his friends and understand how they felt was always the hero of the show.

my parents taught me manners and how things worked. television taught me how to show my feelings, and how to fake feelings. the other kids at school taught me how life wasn't like television, and how other people aren't like your parents. and so painfully and slowly i learned to show certain emotions to survive in the dog eat dog society of school. i learned what not to say and what not to do, lest i be considered a fool.

nevertheless, i learned too slow. too late i realised that the other kids didnt warm to my open displays of emotion. too late i realised that they mocked me.
my grades declined as i fought to stay as a non-weirdo. it didn't work. the pretty girls, the strong boys stayed away from me. i was the one who said weird things and acted strange.

i wonder what life is like for the people who were never ostracised, never bullied, never made fun of. where did they learn to be cool from such an early age? did their parents teach them not to show emotion in front of other kids? did they teach them how to consider people freakos and weirdos? did these children not watch the same soap operas and tv shows that i did?
how did these people get a head start on how to behave in life?

i hope they go through hell later on in life.
i hope i get to put them through it.

it won't happen. but i can wonder. and i can dream. and my imagination is something these bastards will never destroy.

Some Haikus

2006-12-07T00:47:00.000+08:00

I'm sure if I wrote
a haiku
It would be so cool.

Wait that wasn't
the right format for a haiku
was it?

Okay
this time i'll try properly.
I swear.

Starless night
it stares straight into my eyes,
an inspiration.

How wicked
was that shit right there?!
shibby!

blurred quilt
of endless days, think
it makes me.

great oh,
now sound like fucking yoda,
i do.

alright
the next ones, hip and cool
i shall make.

everybody
in da club gettin
tipsy.

when i was
a young boy, my father took me into
the city.

haven't you
people ever heard of closing
the goddam door.

see this is
the kind of shite you get when you
force me.

to write
a blog entry swati, oh crap the
rhythm's.

all screwy
this is awful, so i'll stop now.
night.

Chapter X

2006-08-23T23:29:00.000+08:00

a short one, for once.

I have been instructed to update my blog. so update it i shall. i have just spent the past couple of hours imitating a cushion in my living room, watching everything from pimp my car that i vandalised myself just to get free shit to batman. highly intellectual stuff, i must say.

however there was one instance which i actually liked in my telly-induced coma. on one of mtv's reality shows which involve rich retarded 'young people' in america (i know, there are so many: ditzmissed, rim-riders, etc) called 'the real world' i think it was, there was an actual whole minute when i felt truly touched.

a girl, a beautiful girl with short brown hair and who could have a choice between a lot of different guys if she really wanted, was waiting for her boyfriend at the airport. i was about to turn over when he arrived. i paused. he was wheelchair-bound for life.
and she loved him. unconditionally. she laughed and grinned like an idiot when he was there, and wept uncontrollably when he was gone.

there are a lot of people out there who say they would love someone regardless of their appearance, and they lie through their teeth. i found it beautiful, just simple and beautiful, that this boy had found her despite the incredible odds. it is people like the girl in question that make me smile. it actually brought a tear to my eye. for it is people like her, to whom i give my greatest respect and admiration. people like her whom i am jealous of. for i am not sure if i would ever be able to do the same.

i can only wish for someone like her to be in my life in future.

Update on my life (not as short as one might suspect)

2006-07-17T01:47:00.000+08:00

I am sorry and i apologise for not writing for so long on this blog, but i have things to do sometimes and as you all by now know quite well, i am not really inclined to blithering on about what i ate today, what i drank today, and what i made love to today. it seems only right that i should keep this blog at least partially up to date with m life, and therefore i would like to tell of some new things in my life.

first and foremost, there is my laptop. it is a beautiful machine which can handle all the latest games and has good speakers to blast noisy music from. it also allows me to sit in the living room and type this as my parents watch television. secondly, i have a job. i get to scoop ice cream and serve customers who i must say sometimes seem to be suffering from a slight deficiency in IQ. the people i work with are... interesting... to say the least. nice enough, though a few of them have certain personality traits which make them rather unique.
the other day i went properly shopping for the first time in my life, and when i say properly shopping i mean going into a store full of ridiculously boring and distinctly design-less and picture-less clothes, trying some of them on, and purchasing one of them for an absolutely absurd sum of money, which left me slightly penniless for a few days. i have never worn the article in question, and am not sure when i shall do so.
by the end of this month i will have hopefully applied to all potential universities in australia. in september i shall be journeying to the great down under and visiting a few major cities there, inspecting universities, meeting friendly people, staying in budget accomodation and getting my belongings pilfered.

it occurred to my manager at my job that i am quite a likeable chap (which i must say i can't argue with), and that i should work a bit more for the company and make a bit more money, perhaps as a more senior ranked staff. it occurred to myself that perhaps i should do this after i return from australia for the few months before university in february. it occurred to my father that i shall be turning eighteen on the fifteenth of september whilst in australia, thereby automatically disqualifying my dependent's pass in singapore and having to be in singapore on a visitor's pass, which may not allow me to work here.

being a man of the sort that knows to get one's priorities right and knowing that the more trivial matters such as drinking legally and getting into clubs and so on are of little importance compared to more important notions that eighteen years of life on this planet brings with it, something far more important and shocking occurred to me today.

what is this shocking thought? one might ask. what could be even more important than access to unlimited (within one's budget though, of course) alcohol and entry into clubs?
could it be that he has finally taken a more serious approach to life? could it be that he is worried about the maturity and responsibilty in everything one does which people generally expect from someone at this golden age?
could it be that he is worried about making money for himself when his parents stop giving him allowance? or about the large sum of money currently held in an english bank waiting for him to hit the big one-eight?
nay, i say. what bothers me is a thought far more troubling than any of these trivial matters.
what bothers me is that on the fifteenth of september, 2006, somewhere in the city fo melbourne, australia, is that i will become an eighteen year-old virgin.

Demonic is back

2006-06-28T02:16:00.000+08:00

If only to fill the huge void left by kim's sudden (i only checked her blog a few seconds ago) and shocking unexpected hiatus, i have decided to take up blog writing again. well, i've decided to write an entry. i don't know if i'll be buggered to write any more after this one for a while. that's right, all the fan mail of you guys begging me to start wriitng agian will come flooding in now. well it won't work. i cannot be emotionally blackmailed into writing again. now if a load of cash were to come flooding in with the aforementioned fan mail, that's a different story. anyway, because i'm so heart-stoppingly original, i've decided to steal some quiz thing from tiny's blog because i'm cheap and lazy. well anyway, here it is. enjoy.

Three Names You Go By: Dom, Dominic... erm... does retard count? apparently i'm called 'dommers' by certain people who i'm going to condemn to eternal pain and misery if i'm called that one more time.

Three Parts of Your Heritage: english, chinese, irish.

Three Things That Scare You: clowns, aliens, necrotising fascitis. i don't know how you spell that last one.

Three of Your Everyday Essentials: oxygen for respiration, nutrition consumption, and music.

Three Things You're Wearing Now: well thats a bit difficult see, because i'm not wearing anything! hahahahah! ok i'm wearing... my watch, my rings and erm... my necklace! haha!

Three of Your favorite Bands or Musical Artists at the moment: THE OFFSPRING, GREEN DAY, BLINK-182

Three of Your favorite Songs at the moment: no tomorrow, no it isn't, rough landing holly.

Three Things You Want In A Relationship (other than love): almost constant humour, good music, and i won't lie because i'm not some lying little shit who wants people to think i'm all sweet and uncorrupted. my third one is sex, simply because its how i'm engineered.

Two Truths and A Lie: i am a virgin. i have cheated on more than one occassion. always take me as seriously as possible.

Three Physical Things about the Opposite Sex that Appeal to You: a good height would be nice, a soft tummy, a nice body i guess. isn't that kind of obvious?

Three of Your favorite Hobbies: music(listening/singing/playing), playing games, drinking

Three Things You Want Really Badly Right Now: sex(goes without saying), to sing for a band, to get my ipod fixed because the piece of crap has died. yet again.

Three Places You Want To Go On Vacation: california, australia, the moon

Three Things You Want To Do Before You Die: fall completely in love(again), earn my parents' respect, earn everyone else's respect.

maybe after i've had a bit more of this job stuff, i'll feel pissed off enough to write another entry. stay tuned!

The Biology Exam

2006-05-04T19:07:00.000+08:00

Today I did my Higher Level IB Biology exam. The image I made, shown below, shows an example of one of the questions on it, along with indications of my approximate sentiments on the topic.

Chapter IX

2006-04-30T18:02:00.000+08:00

i admit that i did it. it was oddly satisfying because i hadn't been able to do so for the last ten times i had tried to cry over a month ago, but I cried today. not in huge sobs or an outburst of tears creating a puddle on the floor. beads of wetness rolled down my cheeks from each eye, to get mopped up a few seconds later by my sleeve. my mother saw me crying as she monitored me like she always does while i was studying geography. she didn't say anything about it or do anything about it. she did nothing.

about ten minutes behorehand i had been quietly studying geography when she had come across and accused me of not reading it properly. first my position wasn't proper, then i wasn't awake enough, then i didn't look enthusiastic enough and finally she accused me of looking like i was studying because i had to rather than because i wanted to. quite frankly, i was sick of this rubbish from her over the past few days, always nagging and picking at me and so i told her straight.
i don't care about what you think anymore. i'll just study the way i want.
and then she flipped. she started yelling, and my father came in and told her that this wasn't what he wanted to happen jsut two days before the biggest exams in my life. but she wouldn't stop. the things she had complained about a few seconds earlier, she now started screaming at him.
my father rightly decided that this wasn't the best working environment for me and told me to take my books and go into the next room and so i got up. my mother, on the other hand ordered me to sit back down on the chair and study geography with her. my fathered told me to go in the same calm voice that i sometimes use with emotionally unstable people. my mother again told me to sit down. again my father told me to leave. my mother grabbed the entire geography folder (containing my own notes plus those she had gathered for me over the past month, whether i wanted them or not) and threatened to tear them up and burn them. she then smashed the folder with all her strength against the wooden table and added that if i left the room, she would leave this family and go back to her own. my mother glared straight at me and told me to sit down, now. my father once again told me to leave.

what is one meant to do in such a position? when sitting down would mean defying my father and succumbing to the brutality of my temporarily deranged mother? giving in to threats and being submissive is not one of my known trait. most of my friends are quite aware of my temper and the problems that stem from it.
when she had smashed the folder agains the table, i felt something in me become reborn, like some sort of sick twisted phoenix, not an elegant bird born from flames but the grotesque beast that was my aggression. within seconds i realised that i had stopped slouching and looking upset. my back had straightened, my eyes had grown wider and my heart started to beat faster. i was going to wrestle the folder from her, no matter what it took. not only because i couldnt let her destroy my exam notes but because i wanted to show that she couldn't control me like that. i knew that now was the time where i had to give in to my wanting to tackle her to the ground and beat her black and blue for all the time i had been oppressed by her. all the times she had freaked out like this and blamed me for absolutely everything. but something in the back of my mind stopped me. it stopped me and said that she wasn't acting like a normal person would. therefore, she doesn't deserve such a punishment.
i calmed down.
but the dilemma remained the same. my parents, unaware of the dangerous edge i had almost jumped off of, continued to instruct me to do their bidding. if i sat down, i would be subject to my mother's tantrum firsthand. if i left the room, i would be obeying my father (who was clearly the most sane of all of us at this point) and doing the logical thing, but my mother would probably try and leave the family.
i stayed standing.

a few seconds later, i was trying to read my geography notes again. my mother was sitting across from me and accusing me of not wanting to study, wanting to fail, causing the argument and not immediately obeying her instruction to sit back down. i ignored her. i tried to read the notes but my mind was on the integrity of this family unit. my mother started snapping at me, saying i had been reading the same page for the last fifteen minutes. i thought of explaining to her that i had other things on my mind but then thought better of it.
it was then that i noticed a blurry patch in my field of vision towards the lower left part of my eye. i wondered what it was, and then realised it was a tear. i was confused. i wasn't entirely sure why i would cry but i was determined to keep that tear in my eye and off of my cheek. seventeen year old boys don't cry because their mother shouted at them. i kept searching though, in my mind for what it was that i was crying about. and then i realised what all my thoughts were unconsciously being directed at. it was the concept that i did not love my mother, no matter how much she had done for me. she raised me and taught me and gather notes for me and tried to make me better in every way, but i couldn't love her for the simple fact that in my mind, rightly or wrongly, all the bad times she had instigated severly outweighed anything good i could remember. that's what i was so upset about.
i let the tear trickle down. she didn't flinch.

afterwards i went to sleep for a while and according to my father she was upset when she realised the way she had behaved and she was almost in tears herself. maybe i should be more understanding of the strange way she behaves nowadays, but this information failed to evoke any sympathy from me.
my father says afterwards that it didn't used to be like this. before my mother suddenly changed, this family was happy and there were rarely ever any shouts or fights or freak outs. however, i honestly have no recollection of the days before it was like it is now.

i'm going to be leaving this family by the end of this year. i'm not sure if i'm worried about what the family will be like without me, or whether i'll be happy to be separated from the madness.
if there is a god, he's a bastard.

I Am Afraid Of:

2006-04-27T09:05:00.000+08:00

the dark: only when I think about aliens and monsters inches away from my face
staying single: not really. my last four can probably last me til Im sixty
getting married: definitely. Im just not ready to share my bed with one woman. Oneginaphobia, I suppose.
being a parent: being held responsible for the way a little bastard that looks like me turns out as a human being? Hell yeah.
giving birth: everyday. the day my girlfriend fertilises me is one that I dread.
being myself in front of others: I think have to go find myself first… oh wait there i am!
closed spaces: means you cant run
open spaces: means you cant hide
heights: depends on the durability of what Im presently dangling from
cats: i harbour a general dislike of prowling tigers, lions, jaguars, mountain lions, leapords, panthers and most other large felines that are adept at running me down, knocking me over and dismembering me.
dogs: um… Chihuahuas are nice…
birds: emus are evil. And it doesnt matter how fast you run, theyll still keep up with you
spiders and/or other insects: this usually depends on who Im trying to impress in the surrounding area at the moment of seeing the said creature, and also depends on how inebriated I am.
driving or being in cars: i am a HUGE fan of the grand theft auto series and need for speed underground series. I cant wait to get my own car.
flying: flying is fun. I like to hover above peoples heads and tap their shoulders and then when they turn around they dont see anyone, haha!
being put to sleep (anesthesia): how is sleep bad in any shape or form?
flowers or other plants: I tend to avoid stinging nettles and mutant venus fly traps but most plants are ok.
being touched: well Im not sure about other guys or ugly women but I wouldnt mind a pretty girl touching me…
fire: I have always been afraid of fire.
water: i like swimming.
the ocean: but not in the ocean. I like the ocean as long as its not night time and as long as Im not swimming in the middle of it.
pools: I like swimming pools. Pools are nice.
failure: if I was afraid of failure I would have had a nervous breakdown by now, considering how many times Ive failed at various things in my life.
success: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA wtf?
germs: I only become afraid of germs immediately after I watch those creepy biology videos that tell me that germs are absolutely everywhere. Other than that Im fine with them.
thunder/lightning: I like thunder. It sounds cool. Lightning looks cool. As long as it doesnt kill me, its cool.
frogs/toads: theyre fine as long as they dont actually touch me.
mice/rats: wild ones carry diseases but pet ones are ok. Mine died though.
jumping from high places: I like jumping from high places. I only get upset when my shin splinters and starts protruding through my skin after I land.
snow: definitely. Every time I see snow I run inside a house and cower in fear at the thought of those monstrous little white crystallised flakes.
rain: its not that Im afraid of rain as such. I just prefer to be either completely soaked or completely dry.
wind: why would anyone be afraid of wind? How could anyone?
cemeteries: sometimes.
clowns: only when I have nightmares about them. In real life they tend to be bearable.
large crowds: hell no I like large crowds for some reason.
demons or evil: not usually, being the prince of darkness and all.
crossing bridges: wtf?
death: I dont think I really mind the concept of being dead. Its just they way I die that I dont like thinking of. Falling asleep and never waking up sounds very appealing.
Hell: I am the prince of darkness. Hell is my fortress. hahahahaha.
Heaven: and heaven is the bane of my existence!
being robbed: being robbed really isnt an issue for me in this country.
being sexually assaulted: actually if my assaulter was a pretty woman, I wouldnt really mind.
men: you would be kind of screwed
women: if you were afraid of either of these
having great responsibility: SPIDER-MAN! Yes. i am afraid of it, actually. I dont want to take the blame.
doctors, including dentists: doctors only scare me if they have large, metallic torture devices.
tornadoes: well they look pretty cool but I suppose they arent
hurricanes: i suppose I would be afraid of them, yes.
being punished: I get punished about every two days for various things. I think Ive faced my fear of it.
diseases, including cancer and STDs: um yeah I dont like the idea of having 48 hours to live and stuff like that, or spending the rest of my days plugged into a hospital machine.
snakes: snakes are evil looking and can often kill you. I dont like them.
sharks: as long as Im not actually in the water with them, sharks are fine.
dinosaurs: I love dinosaurs. Theyre so big and cool…
Friday the 13th: I tend to get anxious on that day simply because of the date. Which I suppose is stupid, but then again I am anyway.
poverty: not really. I suppose Ill have to see what its like to have nothing before I can answer that.
ghosts: only when they tap me on the shoulder to borrow my bed sheet. Then I get kind of freaked.
Halloween: Halloween is fun. Especially that party where EVERYONE got completely wasted. I mean, COMPLETELY WASTED. That was fantastic.
school: HA I dont GO to school anymore.
trains or railroads: as long as Im not tied to the track or anything, Im fine.
fear: is this some kind of retarded trick question?
being alone: sometimes I just need to be alone.
losing my friends: yes.
being blind to things: well I dont want to go blind, exactly…
being deaf: or deaf.
growing up: I dont really want to grow up, either. The expectations, the responsibility, you dont really have excuses for bad behaviour anymore.
being murdered in my sleep: doesnt really bother me. Im usually the one with the knife.