We want one toooooo. But only if it’s airconditioned. And has a nice, soft, fluffy duvet on the bed. There’s a bed right? Ah fuck it. I’ll just go stay in a hotel. (via poppy)

I often wonder what people think as they sit on trains - are they wondering about the day’s events either preceeding or to follow this ride? Are they replaying last night’s embarrassment over and over in their minds as their cheeks slowly redden, remember how they tried to kiss that cutie in the club and only got cheek? Or maybe they’re silently cursing the excited old lady, sitting two seats down, animatedly describing something or other to her equally snow-peaked complanion, who’s inadvertently preventing them from catching a nap on the 22 minute journey from Dover to Bugis, yet speaking in an incomprehensible tongue such that they can’t even listen in on the conversation while being kept awake.

Pondering over what lone, taciturn passengers’ thoughts could be has always been that much more entertaining than simply listening in on conversations between friends (though, when weird enough, that proves fairly amusing too). It’s far more fulfilling to let your imagination run wild on what you don’t have very much chance of ever finding out, than trying to pick out the tune those three giggly schoolgirls with their bulging NTUC Fairprice plastic bags are trying to listen to on someone’s mobile, sneaker-clad feet straddling the bags, brows knit in united concentration. Their attention is broken collectively as the tune ends and the short-haired owner of the mobile phone looks expectantly at the other two. Alas, the background roar of the train barrelling though the tunnel has proven overwhelmingly loud and drowned out the tinny MIDI file; it’s a lost cause.

Across the carriage, again, we spy the exasperated eavesdropper - his face visibly loosening in relief as the old lady has reached her destination.

Perhaps - though it would seem rather conceited and presumptuous to think this - that lanky, shy-looking boy, three seats to my right and across the aisle, has seen me glancing furtively around the carriage and is not studying the glass panel behind my head as studiously as he would have me believe and pondering over some other preoccupation of his, but, rather, he’s wondering what I could possibly be scribbling so furiously away in my little black book, what those two funny triangular edges poking out from the top and bottom of my moleskine are (a folded napkin on which I wrote a letter to my lover while waiting alone in a bar in Bangkok for her, and subsequently forgot to give to its intended recipient), why I seem so interested in the middle-aged, fairly well-dressed auntie who’s staring unabashedly at the loving couple next to her and turning to whisper disapproval to her husband, why my writing seems to have sped up - if the stop that’s just been announced over the PA system has my name written on its list of passengers alighting, and if the reason behind the smile that just spread across my face is someone, whose name and face he will never know, who I’m about to meet for lunch.

It is.

1. Sleeping at 2230 and waking up at 0800 is the kind of sleep-cycle one does not expect of a 20 year old on school holiday.
2. I need to pee and smoke so badly but I’m too lazy to get out of my bed and do either. Smoking’s nearer (or rather, the window is, as compared to the bathroom), but if I go and smoke now with the vulcanic tension in my lower abdomen, I’m bound to embarrass myself, in more than one way. (But that was probably too much information.)
3. I know we’ve talked about this and you seem to know what you’re doing, but I guess the point simply remains that I’m so worried for you - for some reason I just can’t get into my head that I should leave you well and alone as these mistakes (if that is indeed what they are) are yours to make, hence the apparent shortage of concern. I’m just trying to respect your choices, that’s all.
4. I want more tom yam kung.
5. I need to move out of my dorm room.
6. I’m still a bit sore about missing resfest.
7. There is such a flurry of events lined up for me over the next couple of weeks that I don’t really know how to look at it and not get stressed, especially when it’s not of the stressful variety. Dinners, movies, musicals, holidays - who the fuck gets stressed about these things?!
8. Oh god I really need to pee.
9. As is always the case, I don’t really feel like writing anymore, now that the exams are over. Not even the bits and pieces I doodled in the moleskine when I was on the plane/in Bangkok. I feel like cooking and baking and sleeping and watching lots of the telly, and watching movies and drinking beer and going back to my favourite watering hole for some good music. Not rolling around - alone - on this bed. Actually, what I really feel like doing is falling asleep with you again.
10. I was one point short of ten.

It was a blast. :) More updates later, when I’m not being hounded for dinner! Not many photos though, unfortunately. Oh food, glorious food. I never understood why people go to Bangkok only to bloody shop and how they can compromise on the quality of food imbibed in the meanwhile. Crazy nutters - you have no clue what you’re missing out on.

*orgasmic noises

So I was bored at home with nothing much to do, considering I’d already finished packing rather early in the morning. I upped and left kind of early, being the very ambitious girl that I am, thinking I’d take an MRT to Changi Airport. I wanted, of course, to give myself ample time to get there, to check in, buy some Thai Baht, mulch around, have a couple of smokes, a coffee and lazily wander over to my boarding gate.

I didn’t think I’d arrive here quite so early, nor did I envision myself having quite so little to do. I’m one-third through one of the two books that I brought to tide me over for this waiting period, the flight, and later when I’m waiting at the hotel, as well as on my return flight. So hooray for free internet in the world’s favourite airport, which is saving Seventy-Two Virgins from being too eagerly devoured. (That sounds wrong on so many levels - it’s the title of the book I’m reading, damn you gutter brains!)

Oh well. In behaviour not particularly characteristic of myself, I didn’t manage to capture some strange sights I’d already seen in digital format, and you’ll just have to make do with my ample descriptives: one woman who, sitting two seats away from me on the MRT between Tanah Merah and Expo, decides she’s just woken up (after all of 30 seconds of sitting on the train), and stretches - no, actually she retches - and leans practically all the way till one fist was uncomfortably close to my face, and one boy in the airport who finds it a far more efficient use of his time and energy to pirouette around an obstacle, twirling his roller-suitcase a la tap dancer’s walking stick, instead of merely side-stepping/altering the direction that he has chosen to proceed in by about 30, instead of 330, degrees.

It’s going to be an interesting weekend.

We’re off to DFS to buy some nice Cartier cigarettes which we will puff away assiduously away on!

It starts with a horrendously long drawn out MRT train-ride to Changi Airport, checking in by myself, a book, a cup of coffee, and a couple of cigarettes while waiting for my flight, a lone taxi-ride to The Met, and culminates in another 2 hours or so of waiting for my room mate to arrive.

This is what happens when random things upset carefully planned itineraries. (In this case, I’m the random thing, apparently.)

2 books, a moleskine (yes, I finally decided on the pocket-sized ruled one, in case anyone was wondering, and got it for about S$25 at Cho Lon in Holland V.), a pen, whatever music I have in my k750i, and a pack of cigarettes are all I have to keep me company for the next 10 hours or so.

See you all next week. :)

Now Playing: Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz

Auuughhhh pictures from the first Poptart I’ve missed since.. whenever it was that she brought me along are up. Hello wound, have some salt.

I was in Bangkok at the end of June this year, I’m going to Bangkok tomorrow, and, over dinner tonight, I just made tentative plans to go there again at the beginning of next year. All 3 trips are with different sets of people.

It’s getting to be almost as bad as another friend of mine who went to Bali five (5) times in the span of one (1) year.

I might as well be Thai.

Edit: Vik suggested I find my Thai name and a generator has decided that it shall be Phaowa Vanit. I just hope it doesn’t mean anything rude! Oh well. So long as no Thai people say I gay and giggle about it, I think I’ll be fine.

PS: I feel so girly I can’t believe I just bought 2 pairs of shoes in 2 days. And they’re fairly girly shoes too! :) Yay for girly-w.

I don’t know anyone else who has fangs like these, and who displays them so proudly. They’re pointy, they’re sharp, they’re glinty, and she’s so pek pek it really makes her look kinda like a… vampire.

But we love meimeiwong anyway. :) Even if she has scary teeth, and even if we spend much money (that we don’t have) when we are out with her.

(Edit: Even if we don’t understand why she says that she’s going to bombom when she means she’s going to bathe. It sounds more like taking a dump, if you ask us.)

We should also stop using the royal ‘we’.

The exams are over, and I’m being whisked away this weekend. :) I’d be so jealous of myself. HAHA. And I’m going to get shot now. ;p See you guys in a few IT’S TIME TO PLAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY