flibbertigibbet;

Today, Greg I farted. I stuck my head out of the window And very nearly vomited.

After I had managed to keep my dinner down, I told him I would not be kissing him anymore for the rest of the night.

Dessert in the Dark

After a simple and lovely dinner at Toa Payoh, followed by a short Walkabout in the library to pick up some books, Greg and I went to the nearby Shop ‘n’ Save, where he bought a box of 12 mini Cornettos: cookies and cream, and blackforest.

We brought it back to the car, and then proceeded to eat all 12 cones in the dim light in the car.

G: Eh, off the light eh! (I switch light off.) G: I like to eat ice cream in the dark. Got the element of surprise.

I remember… when I used to stay over at my Popo’s place;

Back when she used to stay in Ang Mo Kio, and was young enough to carry me, and drive a car, she used to sing Francis Yip’s Shanghai Tang every morning whilst making her daily brew of red tea. The kettle would be whistling, the radio would be switched on, and she’d be washing something or another. I slept on a mattress on her cool living room floor and would wake up to her Chinese-opera-rendition of the song.

Morning - Day 103 “My heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels.”

Our blessed Lord experienced a terrible sinking and melting of soul. “The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can bear?” Deep depression of spirit is the most grievous of all trials; all besides is as nothing. Well might the suffering Saviour cry to his God, “Be not far from me,” for above all other seasons a man needs his God when his heart is melted within him because of heaviness. Believer, come near the cross this morning, and humbly adore the King of glory as having once been brought far lower, in mental distress and inward anguish, than any one among us; and mark his fitness to become a faithful High Priest, who can be touched with a feeling of our infirmities. Especially let those of us whose sadness springs directly from the withdrawal of a present sense of our Father’s love, enter into near and intimate communion with Jesus. Let us not give way to despair, since through this dark room the Master has passed before us. Our souls may sometimes long and faint, and thirst even to anguish, to behold the light of the Lord’s countenance: at such times let us stay ourselves with the sweet fact of the sympathy of our great High Priest. Our drops of sorrow may well be forgotten in the ocean of his griefs; but how high ought our love to rise!

Come in, O strong and deep love of Jesus, like the sea at the flood in spring tides, cover all my powers, drown all my sins, wash out all my cares, lift up my earth-bound soul, and float it right up to my Lord’s feet, and there let me lie, a poor broken shell, washed up by his love, having no virtue or value; and only venturing to whisper to him that if he will put his ear to me, he will hear within my heart faint echoes of the vast waves of his own love which have brought me where it is my delight to lie, even at his feet forever.

Ridonlukously

Hannah coined a new word today, to describe how insanely perky I was at 12pm in the afternoon (which to her body, is 8am):

RIDONLUKOUSLY!

I like it. I’m going to use it more often now :D

Yesterday (because it is nearly 2am in the morning), my mum sent me to school for my Environmental Science for Buildings paper. Along the way, she picked up my maternal grandmother, with whom she would go grocery shopping after. I was trying to revise through the formulae and theory for the paper as calmly as possible. Along the expressway, my grandma turned around and said I was really pretty. I smiled. Then went back to my notes. She faced the front, smiling. Then she turned around again, and looked at me, and smiled, teeth and twinkly eyes and all.

She had no idea how much that meant to me.

Earlier in the day, I was rushing. I had woken up early to study. Then showered. And fretted over what clothes to wear. I was feeling very unattractive, to put it mildly, and dressed up. I never dress up for school. My attire is always, to Fizah’s chagrin, sluggishly standard: t-shirt, jeans, fitflops, hoodie, backpack. Boring. Because it is school, and who have I to attract and woo? Were I single, I would put flowers in my hair and hope the scent attracts some male and have him lumbering over as quickly as his knuckles and legs could scurry him. However, I am attached, and have no need for such flamboyance. It’s such a waste of precious time that I spend on insufficient sleep.

But i digress.

I was feeling like a slug, yesterday afternoon, and decided to dress up. Some. I wore a spaghetti top, and layered it with my new fuschia and cyan checkered shirt with hoodie, and instead of fitflops, I wore shoes. With my jeans, of course. That bit will never change. I combed my hair instead of patting it down nonchalantly. Nobody noticed, of course. Family doesn’t normally do that. Or even if they did, they didn’t mention anything.

My grandma noticed though, and that was all I needed.

Uni life is horridly depressing. I remember when Amelia first went into SMU. She was often upset about the her coursemates’ behaviour: the competitiveness, the bitching, the unkindness. I would try to comfort her, and explain that that’s the real world. It’s all happening to me now. I try to implement the “it’s the real world” attitude, and whilst I do my best to contribute in projects, and when asked, I’d share notes and explain theories, but I made it a point not to get emotionally close to anyone. I kept everyone at acquaintance-arm. Save for Fizah, Riah and Arch.

I lie. I allowed one other course-mate closer into my circle of trust and friendship. Soon after our project was over and done with, he disappeared. I tried to ignore it, but I’d just be lying to myself. It does hurt. I could say suck and such, but that’d be trying to ignore the truth. It hurts. I allowed him into my life, and thought he was an honestly nice and sincere person. Turns out, he was just using me to ensure his grades. Have been trying to ignore it for weeks, but I shouldn’t do that to myself any longer. Went through a momentary period of depression (in the most non-medical sense). I still occasionally have the urge to just sent him a text or walk up to him with a big “What the Hell.” If he were embarrassed by my confrontation, I’d feel like I were cruel. If he decides to bluntly put it that such is life, that yes he was using me, so what, I think I would fall even harder.

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