The 8th Sin.

Shallowness I think, is the one sin that God left out when he was making the first seven. I have no idea how he could have probably missed it. Gone out on the piss, I suspect. Whose to say that there is no pub in heaven? We humans as a result, chuckle gleefully, pouncing on the one loophole that he had missed out on the requirements of fast tracking it to heaven and indulged ourselves to such debauchery it has slowly over time sealed our eyes to such grinding narrowness we no longer see the different side that Beauty posesses having drawn down the curtains ourselves.

The relationship game between the 15th century and the 21st works very differently.The phrase " Inner beauty" once high up there a shimmering golden in the rose petaled court of Romance has been butchered to such an extent that it is considered a slur on the girl who had been becursed enough to be tagged by it, instead of being hauled down with compliments like " Big diddies", " Nice Hair" and " My girlfriend should look like her". Indeed, some even considered it a terrible slur to their reputation, because the subtext of being labled the owner of " Inner Beauty" is " She's got no diddies and her arse hits the floor when she stands."

Beauty today means shiny, glittery, glossy.

I can hardly speak for myself, what with my purple hair and being clad from top-to-toe in Revoltage. However i miss the days of being young and dumb when i didnt gave a flying fuck how my hair looked like and what clothes i wore because I had been more enchanted by the beauty of prose ,spending hours in a library at a time with my blue checkered mickey mouse jacket. i had cared more about dicussing books with my best friend, thinking about issues of the day, scorn at stupid people and dreaming dreams of nothing in particular, just feeling happy and blissful about life.

Needless to say I never went shopping. but that was then. Can't be said the same for now.

Sometimes I feel as if i am living my life with a pack of manequins- beautiful, glamourous and plastic on the outside, but as hollow as a husk inside. With the onslaught of persuing higher levels of illusive beauty, they are willing to forsake their personalities, their thoughts and their brains at the cost of transforming into a better version of how they look in the mirror.

What is the point of it all?

A day should come, when we take away all of our clothes, shave our hair and be devoid of make-up and see ourselves for who we truely are and who that are worthy to be friends. It is only than that Inner Beauty can be resurrected again from the pack of living walking airheads that have taken over the world today.

But until then, I will hold on to my gold chandelier shirt, thanks.

Confessions Part I

I am supposed to be studying for my french test tmr but being the contary bastard i will probably leave it till last minute anyway studying myself blue in the face so here i am.

I have a list of confessions to make.

1) unlike most of my peers, i am comfortable meeting new people.Dont get me wrong though. I don't actually make an effort to try to make the person think im nice. because thats hardly the truth. I dont believe in making conversations either. So how does that make me different from the other people who hate making new frens?

i seat in comfortable silence with said new person while they dont. I always believed that chemistry betw 2 people is important for a relationship to progress and faking that you love the dixie chicks and can speak french, japanese and indian when you really cant is more then just a little pathetic. I rather seat in stoney silence and stare at my feet.

2)I love the company of myself a lil too much sometimes and i dont actually think its a good thing. i guess in the past during my Awkward Teenage Years i had been so lonely that i have, over time, learnt to get used to it. Close friends of mine tend to be appalled and shocked when they discover that i have the ability to seat at starbucks alone reading for hours at a time, watch movies in a large theatre alone and worse, shop alone in town.

Whats wrong with that exactly? I like doing stuff on my own without having to force myself to make dull senseless conversations or dragging them into shops that they are too frightened to enter. Unlike them, I have no need for the security to be in a large group of people to be able to do things that one would not have the guts to do when they are alone.

a second factor would be that you wouldnt have that many opportunities to go shopping either when u only dare to do it with many ppl around you. And i most certainly have no need for such boundaries because i literally become a mad fucking bitch when I dont buy someth new to wear once a month.


3) I am sorry to admit that I like cooking shows. My 2 favourite shows are by Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson. I am even sorrier to say I like cooking and i make a mean medium rare steak. The tedium and cliches of my New Man ability to cook. i rest my case.

4) I like reading. However, I hate books that uses ridiculously small fonts that gives me a headache to read and i usually dont finish them no matter how interesting the plot might be. To me, it seems so "act chim" and stupid to use such small fonts when the plot of the book is quite ridiculously shallow about 2 timing back stabbing office girls.literary classics of Charles Dickens and Ernest Hemingway earned the right to use small fonts with their depth of writing. Chick flicks just don't.

5) I am mostly shy when I meet strangers. Shut up stop laughing.

6)I value loyalty the most in people. You can be a right bitch but somehow when you still have your loyalty somewhere you can never be that nasty no matter how people may percieve you to be.

7) I only listen to japanese and korean songs. Just as well that you know that my lifelong ambition is to become a japanese citizen someday. Chinese songs to me are just soppy and more then a lil wet, and punk rock songs by Yellowcard and Panic! at the Disco just gives me a headache.

8) i have a closely guarded secret that sometimes affect my social life and makes me suicidal when I can't be the person i am and do the things I like freely. I am still coming to terms with it and hopefully it will be somewhere in the near future and not half a century later when I am on my deathbed with my life wasted.

I'm tired, so im going to continue this some other time.

The reason I don't watch Singapore Idol.

Sops of TV.

Oh its so sad. Charmed is officially over.

runs into room, throws cover overself and weeeeeep.

I really like american TV serials, and i don't just mean the short 24 episodes, on air for 3 months kind. I like long ones. Those that drag over for years and years and you still can't help by love watching it,seating down every friday night in a darkened room with your duvet around you immersing yourself into the screen of your TV for an hr when time stops in the room and the shutters are drawn shut from reality.

Its the familiarity I guess. watching the people in your screen grow up and change together with you at the same time. Reality could spin you into a veritable whirlwind and leave you mute in misery and yet things still stay constant in that box of yours every Monday and Friday night at 10pm and 8.30pm respectively.

You could be the person that time have evolved you to be in the day time- cynical, brass, hiding behind a mask etc etc. But when night time comes and Friends comes on, suddenly, you become that bespectacled kid in your pyjamas years back then, sneakily turning on the TV in a silent house to watch it when you sld have been asleep, just as you are watching it now. Nostalgia, comfort and familiarity of things are not like durians or sales that are available every season in reality. For me, only the serials that i have watched from young provides me that.

But then again, i might just be a sad sop who sldnt get so in touch with my feelings and get a grip on myself.

...........

Boo Hoo. =(

Sick

I shouldnt have eaten that whole packet of pick & mix.

I knew I should'nt.

Not to mention guzzling a whole box of after dinner mints pre-dinner time.

Therefore waking up at 4am on Monday morning shivering beneath my duvet and a burning sensation up my throat, I quickly realized with heavy trepidation in my heart that the punishment for my day of chocolate eating debauchery had arrived.

Needless to say, dragging myself up to school with a temperature of 38.3 degrees was more than just lifeforce sapping itself. But tough bitch that i am, I brazened it out, reasoning to myself that if the Africans go ard with no nosh for 5 days in a row without turning into a pack of bones, then this was piss easy.

wrong executive decision, Im afraid.

By mid-afternoon I was shaking like a willow tree despite it being 34 degrees celsius under a blinding hot sun acting emo for portrait shots as demanded by the Cliffy the Perve. My head weighed about 3 tonnes and I cld barely think, nevermind talk.

Just as well I kept my mouth shut anyway. Loud noises made me want to puke, Bright lights sent rivets of nausea shooting up my throat and air conditioned rooms were pure hell.

In short, I had became delirious.

By 4pm, I was such a wreck, I barely manage to hobble to hail a taxi and it was a miracle itself I survived the ride home and even took a bath.

Somebody should have called the pope.

Monday in short ended for me at 5pm when i turned of the blinds and snuggled into my duvet for a 16 hour slumber.

I swear, I am never ever going to touch chocolates again for the rest of my life.

...

Well, till I get much better anyway *coughs*

Confessions of a Male Shopaholic.

After a whole week of coffee drinking, late night mugging deliriousness, It is in my honour & pleasure, everyone to announce that I have passed my Japanese Intermediate 2 Exam.

Read muah lips: I HAVE PASSED.

*jumps, squeals, shirt lifting over head running around like a fool, stopping strangers on the street waving my exam paper around screeching "I HAVE PASSED!! eyayayayayayahhhhhhhhh!!!!" Madness*

Indeed it is a cause for celebration, seeing that Im so far down the line of my Japanism this bitch would never ever be able to catch up with me. Oh I'm so pawning her alright and make no mistake about that. It feels so good, its better than sex. Hell. This is even better than the time I got stopped 3 times in a row by various modelling companies at orchard road in an hr.
....

Indeed, material things just doesnt give the same kick comeuppance does.

But I digress.

So what does one do anyway after such a powerful rush of uplifting, head addling Euphoria?

Shop of course!

Alright. I have something to confess here. I have more than just a soft spot for retail therapy. My girlfriends call me their 24 hour shopping express standby because Im always ready for any kind of retail. Clothes, shoes, furniture, cutlery, knickers, boxers, coffins etc etc. You name it and I would probably have done it, and bought the T-shirt in matching color too.

Gone are the days when boyfriends stand resolutely outside a clothes shop while their girlfriend in question have to seek such desperate measures to get their man in to try a polo tee from Ralph Lauren, a collar and leash has to be brought into action to persuade said male into the shop.

Not anymore though.

Today, the girlfriend would probably be the one looking like 10 kinds of shite, pussy green in the face standing outside Armani in their killer heels waiting for the turn of the century while their GQ reading boyfriends with the heavy duty hair and manicured nails bury the salesgirl trying shirt after shirt from the season's latest collection.

Although i must say, if that is really the case, the girl sld just dump him and get on with because

a) He might be gay
b)There is only so many mirrors, toilets and wardrobe space to go around.

In my spirited defense, I have to say I aint that intoxicated as it is to shopping. i know when to stop when my wallet reads approximately 85 cents for the bus trip home, not to but another piece in the same colour and design just because I love the shirt so much ( i have only done that once), and not to glam up more than my girlfriend so I dun bling more than her under the sun when we walk together.

Not like Im attached or anything, for that matter.

and no intention to, as it is.

So anyone wanna go shopping on Tuesday?

Self Sufficient

They say its a basic human need to have a life partner. The very special someone you spend the next half a century with, from the day you frock up the aisle with your mom crying the piss out of you till the final moments when you close your wrinkled weary eyes after a very very long day.

He or she will come to know your deepest darkest secrets, from the time you dress up in your sister's skirt and lipstick only to be caught in the act by your ex-girlfriend, to knowing the name of the person you lost your virginity to when you were 18 in your parents' bedroom while they were watching crimewatch downstairs. Secrets even your best friend might not even have been let into.

They is nothing to hide away from them. He or she will come to be the very reflection of you, the one finishing your sentences in awe of your friends, the person you would have to call Husband/Wife and not get confused when your partner's secretary enquire if you are the Wife/Husband calling and not become outraged thinking that you have married a two timing bastard when you are the said Husband/Wife in question.

Now that is one hell of a scary thought.

Call me cynical, but I have yet come to realise the long comings of such an investment. Too many things in life has taught me well that humans are a very unusually burden-shy species. Fun laughter peace and joy are indeed, all very well, but don't be surprised they run for the hills the moment Burden has to be shared, Responsibility has to be uphold and Trust to be provided.

My name is Samuel, therefore I am, and only am.

Perhaps to the uncynical, I am but a poor sad bastard who will undoubtly face the final golden years of his life lodged in a musty cobwebbed one room studio with forty cats. That might come to pass of course. But then again, the life I would have would be more carefree and trouble-free then the people who get hitched and have to deal with all type of nonsense like Divorce, Pregnancy, Depression and How to Change a Nappy.

But then again, I might just be feeling emo after all.

Photography--The new weight loss solution

It never came to me fiddling with Le photo-chemical process could result in the loss of a kg.

but it did.

His up-his-arse highness short slaphead of a photog teacher whom I cant rmb his name even though I have sat through his class thrice alrd set such ridiculous sky rocketing requirements for his precious one piece photo of an assignment that I trekked the whole island today looking for a grand total of 6 hours just for that perfect shot.

6 hours. On foot. No lunch.

The result is that i not only lost approximately 1.5kg today walking from Chinatown to the esplanade to the CBD, My legs are no longer responding to any form of movement whatsoever. Not that I mind you see. I am perfectly happy to be lying in my bed with my industrial size box of chocolate biccies till the turn of the next century, thanks very much.

So girls, the next time you want to lose the lard for that hunk or an upcoming tanning holiday? dump that gym membership card and feed your lean cuisine to your backstabbing ex-boyfriend's dog. Just go out there and get urself a short fat demanding photography teacher and see yourself transform to skin and bone.**



**results vary according to individuals. and the asshole factor of said photography lecturer.

The Pissed is a wonderful world.

Tongue swollen to twice its size, mouth dryer than a nun's pussy. Yep I am pissed alright. But pissed as I am,somehow I am able to find my way to my cousin's com away from the cast iron grips of the hard partyers in the living room that is my uncles and aunts from being forced to drink yet another glass of second grade red wine.

The addled mind is an interesting perspective. The world is scrapped from the hues and promiscious shades that it posess incorrectly named hope by the uncynical and foolish dreamers to percieve what it really is- the dull, greyish non color of reality wrapped under its deceiving layers. The Pissed sees things for what it really is, all without the heavy undertow of despair. On the contrary, dry bitter humour serves as a condiment as oppose to terrible patronization or ignorance for acceptance to what life really is. With every swig of alcohol, pieces fall into place until you finally see the whole picture - without its decieving wrap.

You balance and disect life like a very intricate neurological vein, lifting and uncovering pieces lesser known and ventured. You get a better understanding of what the whole living deal is about. Despair, failures and disappointents could hit you like a truck with realization and you wldn't feel a thing.

And Just like that, you don't remember a thing the next day you wake up. Life continues on its trudge. Until the next time your grannie's birtday comes up and your aunts and uncles see it as another opportunity to get pissed and bonded.

They say The Pissed is a world of confusion and madness.

clearly those fuckers have never got drunk before.

War of the sexes

Talking to a few of my friends at Salvatore's pizzeria 2 weeks ago brought me insights to how tough the dating game was, no matter what gender you are in our very sheltered society. And a very small one at that.

They say girls used to have it hard in this particular area. Every single ACS hunk in the catchment area has approximately 2.8 girls ( includes 2 timers) to every one of their rugby/soccer jocks.

Nevermind the astonishing number.

All these girls that we are talking about are exquisite. No fight at all, my gal pals groaned. They usually go about the likes of " My Dad's half japanese, vietnamnese and my mom is a quarter italian, quarter eskimo and half african." Nevermind my friend is a disappointing ( her words) pure chinese who speaks the 2 standard languages. Some of them even has brains included in the package with their knockers, long legs and fake tan.

In my friend's opinion, this makes them god.

Therefore, The Hunks, enter VJC via their CCA track records, and The Exquisites at their heels with their 2 pts.

And my friend has to sadly scour for the more sub-standard boys from Cat High, Victoria and St Patricks respectively.

when questioned whats wrong with the boys from other schools by my infuriated guy friends, she intoned sarcastically that they were all very well, just that every one of the fools she has dated besides the hunks from the quartet of boy schools as mentioned above has never read a book since pri5, forget her birthdays and more unforgivingly, inviting their guy pals during Valentines day for a round of arcade, with a follow up of pizza and soccer watching at said girlfriend's house.

As you can see now, my friend is hardly the "quiet", "demure", "shy" and " likes to read books at home besides the fire" kind of girl.

according to my soccer playing, T-shirt baring guy friends, all these are news to them. Never had to look for a girl, they boasted, they usually come aflock for them.

It is at this exact moment coversation came to an abrupt halt when my gal pal dumped her ice-cream on my guy fren and left the pizzeria huffing into the night.

Well. what can i say? sadly, i have to agree with my gal pal. What with me being a bleeding heart liberal (wannabe), I always had the fortune of my gay frens and gal pals to help me along the precarious road of romance and have yet had ice cream dumped on my noggin yet.

The feminist activists has clearly not made any leways into our machioist dating arena of girls that fling themselves at the foot of a hard, gleaming 6 foot soccer playing hunk when they should have rightfully cast a disdainful eye at them and turn on their stilettos while
muttering "thickhead" under their breaths as they all sld ala SJP in Sex & the City. And it gets even more unlikely what with the many clans of Ah Lians who type stuff like I luBb lUbB yOuXx Orhsz La0 GoNgx on their blogs and search the malls like a vulture for meat and settle for any kind of homosapian with a penis even if the guy is 19 and still trying to pass his PSLE.

However, I am not here to suck up to the enemy and backstab my lovely vulgar soccer playing gang of tit watching, beer drinking fools. but i have got a msg for u guys.

C'mon man. The girls are trying their damnest to look hot for us so isnt it reasonable we put on a clean pair of jocks, shave ourselves and wear something from Topman instead of that mud stained shirt and ripped century yr old jeans passed down from your mom's family? Its fair man. They raise their game for us and its only fair we do the same.

I mean, so you want to end up with with this wierd smelling 2 tonne girl who doesnt shave and hog up your soccer watching time on the telly while you watch in dismay at that chick whom u have a crush on with your best mate who has taken my advice and look like smth from a CK ad smooching the life out of her?

exactly.

Cynicalism is a terrible thing to have.

I'm 17. I'm too young to have that. You can be a right cynic when you are 38, fat, balding and unmarried. But not when you're 17, young, skinny and the posesser of a new, clean unwrapped future ahead to destroy.

I don't remember the days when I don't second guess the people around me, believe in relationships and giving second chances.

Neither can I remember the days when I believed in working for what I want, fighting for my rights or disclosing secrets to close friends.

Life is one overbearing fucker.

I need to cope on with myself.

This is already the 2nd week in school, and I am still flouncing around in my holiday mood thinking about the next country to go to in December.

Japan would be great. So would New York and Los Angeles and Munich and Spain and...

You get the idea.

So why does my mom insist on fucking Dubai?!! She might as well ask me to spend christmas in Siberia. but hope is not lost everyone. She hasnt booked any tickets yet.

But she had better hurry, or we would indeed be going to Siberia and feed raindeers while we watch our nose and ears fall off.

Anyway thats not what I am here to talk about.

Im here to make a pact to myself and everyone else on my blog to know that of this moment, I am going to change and become a better student. because I'm so going to make sure my name appears on that Director's List in 2 years time.

The other reason would be that my previous semester's grade aint that hot and i got to pull my socks up before they ask me to fuck off to design school.

So here goes.

I, Samuel Lee Wei Jun, swear to make time for daily revisions at least 2 hrs everyday ( exclusive Wednesday because i have Japanese class and Friday because nobody is the mood to do anything so close to the weekend) and pay attention to all subject lectures instead of scribbling on my notebook and playing Hang man with my mates, and to overall become one of the top students of CMM this term whereby everyone will follow my good example and become a pretty role model for fellow aspiring students and peers.

Failure to comply will result in the loss of the following items and privileges.

1. Gorgeous Gold chandelier Tee from Revoltage
2. One new shirt a week policy as weekly reward for going to school.
3. Flesh Imp Black Leather Bag
4. Mise Sclusive Goods

sign: Samuel Lee Wei Jun.

There. You guys all see it now. And i have already made the first step of becoming a good role model by getting full marks for my MMPrin quiz and posting 4 posts at the forum. See! I am determined to make it happen this term.

and because if i dun make it, Im going to lose the above 4 privileges which I frankly cannot live without and see no point in continuing living without them.

Now if that can only be true for my French...