Warning: Contains some spoilers. Not that any of you really care about watching this show for its riveting storyline.

The Cave is a hilarious show. At least, it is if you watch it with someone as humji (cowardly) as I am.

I’ve long made it clear to my friends that I don’t do scary shows. I’m a scaredy cat, I get startled easily (in cinemas), and while I don’t quite so much mind blood and gore, I hate the ghostly/fuck-with-your-mind kinds of shows. Especially the more recent breed of Asian horror flicks, that love to do things like invade your safe places, which really fuck with your mind. Thankfully, the ang mohs haven’t really figured out how to do this yet, so I can still find shows to shock myself into a heart attack with, but not get nightmares from at night.

This situation, of course, is exaccerbated by my ridiculous phobia of the dark (especially when there’s water involved, e.g. swimming pools at night) and sharks/swimming-things-that-have-sharp-teeth in general. Knowing all this, I still went ahead to watch the abovementioned show (which I already knew - from the trailers - contained scary swimming things with sharp teeth that attacked people in a dark cave that they were swimming around in), thinking that since I’d heard it was a lousy show, it should at least be so un-scary that it’s funny. I mean, how good could a show whose synopsis starts off with “A team of sexy explorers….” be?! (Ci’en said she read that somewhere.)

Stupid as the show may have been, I’m now thoroughly convinced that I’m stupider for having gone for it at all. Ci’en - bless her heart, the poor soul - probably came out with her hand in a completely different shape, thanks to my vice-like grip and frenetic flapping of her hand in front of my face to block the screen out everytime the monsters appeared. As if that wasn’t enough, I was later told that while attempting to shoot at the monsters with my own imaginary scanner gun (it emits sound waves that chase them away or something), I was also emitting some strange diu diu diu-like noises. This all occurred when the protagonists were being chased by the monsters but for some reason didn’t think to use the scanner gun. (I was trying to help them with the shooting because I was very cleverly informed that they dropped their scanner gun. Though, to her credit, I don’t think she really expected me to start joining in the action. I know I didn’t.)

I’m not sure how wise it is to put this part up here, but I also (audibly, unfortunately) muttered, “Oh mommy,” at one particularly you-know-he’s-a-goner moment in the show.

Anyhoo, not only was this movie of the don’t-let-you-see-the-monster-properly variety, it also tried to sneak in a little Dawn Of The Dead-esque parasites-that-mutate-humans-into-monsters nonsense, and all in all it was just a very stupid show. The only saving grace? That Kathryn and Tyler didn’t get together in the end. But I suppose that had something to do with Kathryn being the first monster-to-be outside of the cave. Maybe they should have made out - then Tyler could have gotten the parasite passed to him and then they could throw in a little moral conflict for should I kill myself now for the greater good of mankind or should I cave in (pun intended) to my new parasitic desires.

Whatever the case, this show is a definite DON’T SEE. No matter how bored you are (go find something else to do), no matter how much money you have to waste (donate it to me - I’m looking for a donor for an iSight, and no, Johnny M., I don’t care if you think it’s an overpriced piece of crap), and no matter how badly you may want to watch a movie and don’t care what movie it is (go watch Be With Me while it’s still showing! Or Night Watch. I’ve been told that that’s pretty good).

The only factor that would make the $7.50 (please don’t even consider watching it on a more expensive day) worth it is a completely ridiculous and humji friend like me to watch it with you, completely embarrass herself, and make the two (or more) of you laugh like maniacs when everyone else is watching it with Oh no what’s gonna happen next!!! deadpan seriousness. Just watch out for the dude in the seat in front of you - he might beat you up after for wrecking his wonderful movie experience.

Now Playing: Jack & Diane by John Mellencamp

Edit: I don’t know how good an idea it is to post this here, but there was a message I needed to get out. I still don’t know that it’s the best way to go about doing it, but I can’t think of a better one now. Comments have been turned off, since.. well, there isn’t anything I really want to hear in response. From anyone, not just you.

We’ve been broken up for longer than we were together. In all honesty, none of my friends understand what’s to love about me that you still haven’t been able to let go - and truthfully speaking, I don’t either. You tell me not to blame you for what happened (you already blame yourself so much), yet one dark night just after the world as I knew it fell apart, you put the blame on me.

You just want to be friends. You warn my dates never to have any designs on me. You laugh confidently and tell me not to be stupid, you’re long over me. You call me begging me to take you back. You write me pages and pages of letters telling me of how sorry you are, that you want to put this all behind us now. You’ve written countless poems by now documenting each time you thought of me, and then some.

Just what is it you want?!

I know you’re not fantasising about being back with me (as you put it), but only because I know you’re smarter than to ever think I’d ever be with you again. And that’s not solely because of anything you’ve done, nor of anything I have. Harsh as this may sound, I just don’t love you anymore. I fell out of love with you some 2 months before I managed to break up with you, and maybe some people can, but I just can’t be with somebody I don’t love anymore.

Now that you have seen for yourself that I’ve moved on, your mind teems with dark threats over my “despicable behaviour”. Your friends want to inflict pain on me, because of “what I did”, knowing full well you were there. What did they really expect of me? Did they expect that just because you, a figment of my past, were there, I’d drop all else to be with you? Did you really expect that I would waste time away from the people I was there with to speak with you? You know that I want nothing to do with you as it is. And you know the goddamn reason why. The only reason why I can think of your friends not understanding my actions, or the apparent lack thereof, is because they don’t know all that has transpired between us.

They don’t know how many times you’ve woken me up with your drunken texts, all but indecipherable. They don’t know the nightmares you brought, the self-blame I wrestled with for so long before I finally understood that what happened was not my fault. They don’t know the ridicule I’ve been subject to when my friends demand of me, “So who’s the next psychopath you’re going to date? Is this one going to give you a concussion too?” They don’t know how much I loathe texting them to get my messages through to you, simply because I hate giving you any form of encouragement. They don’t know what your relapses of crazily texting me are like, and they don’t know how many times you’ve appeared at my doorstep, demanding that I see you, telling me I owe it to you.

I don’t owe you anything. Thankfully, now, the converse also hold true. I want to get on with my life, and I really want you to get on with yours too. I wish you would stop killing the person I once cared so deeply for - I know you’re in there, behind all the hotheaded stubborness. Yet I loathe to tell you to do anything, especially since you always thought I was too controlling, and I wholeheartedly wish I could relinquish any semblance of power I might still hold over you. Maybe I was, but I’ve still got the rest of my life to work on that.

So this is my answer to your email: Thank you for the birthday wishes, but no, I will not meet you for dinner. My friends would be more than happy to collect my belongings on my behalf - after all, they are my friends. But don’t call them - they’ll call you to arrange for it.

I’m sorry that things have turned out this way, and I’m sorry that you still feel the way you do; one year and 2 days after we got together, 6 months after we went our separate ways. I’ve moved on. And it’s high time you get a move on it too.

Now Playing: Sleeping Satellite by Tasmin Archer

The room spins. Your hands, shaking, reach for something - anything - to distract you. Texting becomes even more of a habit than it was already - you’d take anything that keeps your hands busy. Smoking supposedly curbs hunger (I’ve heard that it’s got something to do with dulling your taste buds), but for some reason food’s making me nauseous. Locking yourself up in a room with only water, Fisherman’s Friend lozenges, and a bunch of dirty laundry is scarily reminiscent of Trainspotting. But I can’t possibly be that much of an addict, right? Besides, my life is enough of a blockbuster as it is.

I don’t know how much longer I can last.

Classes go by unattended because you can’t bring yourself to step into the sunlight. You find yourself inhaling deeply, lungs begging for just one drag of that sweet, smoky air. Sick of these 4 walls, yet you daren’t go home, considering how the minimart at the poolhouse has a respectable range of smokes on sale. You find yourself making promises to buy friends breakfast/lunch/dinner/dessert/ah-balling/all manner of treats in the event that you cave, just so you know you can’t afford to. Literally.

God, this is harder than I thought it would be.

Wash out the ashtrays, rid your desk of every last speck of ash. For the first time this semester, my room doesn’t reek of smoke the moment you open the door. Quit Smoking websites all tell you to hang tight to the reason why you decided to walk this lonely path, yet it’s hard, when your reason doesn’t even know what she is. Just one stick to get me through the day. Just one stick to help me fall asleep. My head is pounding, and my floor feels like someone’s turned up the bass in his equalizer somewhere in your block. Then you realize - it’s not just your hands that are shaking anymore.

Weak..

You want beer, but you know that anywhere you can get beer, cigarettes abound in all their tempting glory. Every single person you talk to, you whinge and moan to about how badly you want to open that last pack of Lucky Strikes. The bids come in - so far the highest being Crystal Jade porridge and xiao long bao in exchange for the pack. It’s very tempting, yet somewhere inside you, you want to save it for when you cave, just so it’ll be worth it. Word comes in that a carton of Cartiers is being flown in from Shanghai. I guess I’ll be selling that instead of smoking it. ($70 for one carton, in case there are buyers.) “Look at it this way, kissing smokers tastes like licking an ashtray.”

Bullshit.

2 days. They say the first 3 or 4 days are always the hardest. I can’t help but hope that A) they’re right, and B) it’s 3, not 4 - or more, days. I’m sorry I snapped at you - I’d blame it on the (lack of) nicotine coursing through my bloodstream, but I refuse to bow so low. Mark Twain once said, “Quitting smoking is easy. I’ve done it a thousand times.” This is my second time, and once again, it’s for someone other than myself.

This one’s for you.

Now Playing: Fire by Lizz Wright

Soon to come: A Day In The Life Of A Cold Turkey.

This has nothing to do with the government’s Anti-Smoking Campaign. Halfway through my birthday celebrations, I decided upon it, for reasons (now) unbeknownst to mankind.

I’m regretting it sorely, and that’s what you’ll find out about soon. But hey, I figure - I’ve been in this hell for 2 days already. Why stop now?

Anyway, it can only get better after this. Right? Right?

Note to self: Give away the last pack of Lucky Strike Menthols you saved for a “rainy day”. (Any takers? Let me know, and I’ll think about it.)

Now Playing: Deckchairs And Cigarettes by The Thrills

(Rehashed and remade.)

The many intricacies of the human mind (let alone that of the heart) allow us a wide range of, if not too many, avenues to pursue. The capacity to be with is not necessarily a subset of the capacity to love. The ability to love, likewise, of caring deeply for someone. Not all arguments, disagreements nor lost tempers result in fatalistic quarrels or terminations of friendships, just as not all acquaintances become the best of friends.

The dead of the night always brings either an amazing amount of clarity, or leaves me confounded by the overwhelmingly contradicting voices in my head. A friend once told me, when I was about 9, that I think too much. On nights like the latter, I’m led to believe she just might have been right.

But then again, thoughts dwelt upon for too long, like over-exposed photographs, never turn out quite as clear as you wish they would. Perhaps we ought consider that, now and then, simply accepting things as they are could let us see better than an assiduous dissection in hopes of greater insight.

Now Playing: Worn Me Down by Rachael Yamagata

I mentioned earlier that the dating scene in Singapore is rather boring/expensive, where the primary activity dating couples partake in is to watch movies, and watch more movies. I know I’ve fallen prey to that boring cycle, but no more! The silliness ends here! Or I shall try to end it, at least - with a compilation of cheaper dating alternatives. :)

I. West Coast Park

Highly recommended for post dinner/late night explorations: it’s kid-free by then, the playground is yours for all the fun one can have, and for free! McDonalds is open 24 hours, and has a foot-washing station so you leave it not too much sandier than you were when you got there. Let loose screaming your head off on the Flying Fox, and relax, all sprawled out, on the middle rope-platform of the spider-net thingy. I’d not encourage too much ni-ni-noh-noh-ing, though. It might be a tad uncomfortable to get caught in a tangle - in a compromising postion, no less - in a mess of abrasive ropes. ;) Who said jungle gyms had to be for kids only, right?

II. Museum Visits
Singapore may not be brimming with arts and culture the way, say, Italy is. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to know, or see. Take an afternoon/evening/day to immerse yourself in history or art in one of Singapore’s museums. Not only does it give you the chance to educate yourself, the exhibits are sure to provide you with excellent conversational topics for you and your date. All that at a meagre price too!

1. Singapore Art Museum:

Admission fee is $3 adults, and $1.50 for students.

2. Singapore History Museum:

Admission fee is $2 for adults and $1 for students.

3. Asian Civilizations Museum:

Admission fee at Empress Place is $8 adults and $4 students, except on Fridays between 7-9pm where it’s $4 for adults and $2 for students. Admission fee at Armenian Street is $3 for adults and $1.50 students.

4. Singapore Philatelic Museum:

Admission fee is $3 for adults. (No student price available at present.)

At the risk of this sounding very National Education (especially seeing as how this is already a very Lomancing Singapore post), I’d highly recommend doing this, even if not on a date. It’s rather eye opening for those of us, especially, who may think that all there is to know about Singapore is what was drilled into our heads by mean old teachers in our Secondary 2 History class. Plus, you never know - your date might be some huge history buff and you could score some points by showing an interest in something they love, or just bag for yourself a very useful One Stop Information Nugget Vending Machine. :) Check the websites for upcoming exhibitions, and remember to bring your Student Card, if you’ve got one.

III. Indoor Picnics

Singapore’s climate isn’t quite so conducive for lazing around in a park, and if you’re anything like me, the grass and sand will make you itch and there goes the comfort factor. Instead, put a little picnic basket together, whip out your mat, blast the aircon, and lounge around in one of your living rooms. (This assumes that you have a living room to yourself, so make sure the rest of the family is out - and going to stay out - while you’re having your date.) If you want to up the naturalistic factor, plug in your Colour iPod and play a slideshow of beach photos to some Beach Boys/lomantic music! You can even attempt to time it such that the sun sets on screen around the same time that it’s setting outside your windows. Suggestions for picnic food: steak sandwiches, a bottle of wine, a light salad, and some cold cuts/finger food that you can feed each other. If you don’t cook, and have a bit of cash to spare, visit the Da Paolo Gastronomia in Holland Village, and buy yourself a gourmet-tasting picnic at affordable prices. Messy food is good too - your date getting some sauce on his or her face is as good an excuse as any for you to wipe (or kiss) it off him/her. :)

Righty-ho, you’re all officially out of excuses to complain about the lack of things to do on dates in Singapore (due to financial constraints), or how expensive dating is. Well, for the next 3 dates, at least! So get out there, do something different, and if you’ve enjoyed yourself on a date inspired by this post, please let me know, so that I’ll know if I should bother to think more up or not.

Now Playing: Number One Blind by Veruca Salt

Thank you for a lovely night.

Many thanks, also, for the phone calls (from the lands of far away), the messages, and for those of you who, instead of showing blatant disgust for my shameless advertising for presents, offered to - and bought - them for me.

On another note, you know you’ve irrevocably entered geek-ship when you can see one tenth of the box that contains the present two of your friends got for you, you immediately exclaim that it’s a memory card (for your camera phone/phone camera), and you can’t - not for the life of you - think of a cooler present that you’ve ever been given in your entire life. :)

It can’t be a good sign when every single present you’ve received thus far has been of the geeky variety.

There’s so much more that I could swoon and squeal about, but I shan’t, so as to maintain this nonchalant façade.

Thanks again, sweethearts, especially you. :) Words can’t express how grateful I am that I had you there with me, nor my amazement that you managed to turn the potentially worst birthday ever into the best one thus far.

梦有你而美。

The complete inventory:

1. 1 bottle of homemade chilli
2. 4 Fisherman’s Friend lozenges (as in 4 sweets, not packets)
3. 13 cigarettes
4. 500ml of mineral water
5. An assortment of meds

When you’re stuck in an anorexic’s pantry (read: your dorm room), have been starving since just before you fell asleep last night, and have no cash to buy any food with (I have all of $0.30 in my wallet), misery sets in in a very lonely, hungry way.

Now Playing: Apology Song by The Decemberists

More shameless birthday gift ideas! Apart from the NES, I really like the AtariBuckle. Though, I can’t help but think it would be a tad weird to have someone come up to me and grab my… joystick.