I know I have been absent for a long, long time. Been working on my new site and it is now up and running. So I won’t be updating this site anymore.

 Check out my new site: www.styleflavors.com and www.styleflavours.com . Both addresses will take you to the same site so you’ll still get to me whichever way you choose to spell.

 So drop a line and let me know what you think!

  N xoxo

 I have been busy dealing with whatever has been thrown on my plate. I got most of it dealt with and this week was a pretty good week, if I say so myself.

 Aside from checking out the various Summer sales, I am working on a new project. One I hope I’ll be launching in the coming weeks. Stay tuned!

 Friday came and went and it was pretty good judging by the week I had. I got the thing I need to do over and done with and I am so relieved that I don’t ever have to do it again.

 I got the news that I might not have to do another module this semester after all. I have enough credits to proceed on and I am just waiting to hear back on the confirmation so I am hoping and praying that I don’t have to spend extra time and money on what essential to me is completely unnecessary and uninspiring. Funny how that worked out because I was completely ready to pay and submit the paper work for the extra module when I felt something or someone was telling not to pay for it first at the back of my head and there were 2 other people in the queue in front of me and they were taking a long time so I decided to submit it the next day and it so happened that I got the news that there was a possibility that I might not need to after all so I hoping this is a good thing.

 I got a call from my cellphone service provider during the week and this chick told me that they will be sending over a $200 voucher to get a new cellphone and a 50% discount on my plan for the next 12 months to thank me for being a ‘valuable customer’. Gone are the days that I had $500 monthly phone bills but I have spend thousands of dollars on phone calls and such and it’s ridiculous on hindsight but I got the money eventually. I have 1 month to make use of the voucher and I finally decided on the phone I am going to get just yesterday (LG KS20). I am in need of a new phone since phones and me don’t get along very well for long. I drop them, I toss them around, they fall apart and I get a new one. That’s kinda my routine. I am also waiting for Ziios’ official paperwork to come in so an account can be set up at Nokia and that can be used as a barter point for a cellphone of my choice. If someone’s going to give me a free phone, i might as well pick the most expensive one ay? Which is just what I am going to do. I have already submitted my choices and I shall wait and see.

 I was deciding a gift for myself for getting through this week and my thing on Friday. It was between a Marc Jacobs watch and a Comme Des Garcons cardigan. I have decided to go with the cardigan. I’ll pop by the store when I have time. I just hope they have the exact one I want in the store here.

 My week just got screwed. I found out yesterday that I have to take another module this semester which will be fine and all if I haven’t already done it 2 years ago. Now I have to redo the stupid subject again and it’s just a major bummer because of the extra time it’ll take and the extra cost that would have been better off being blown at Balenciaga, Club 21 or Barney’s. I need Friday to go extra well and I get what I want and then maybe the week will end on a better note.

 I’m just pissed at myself. I hate my major, I hate my occasional decisions made on impulse and I detest people. Hate is too strong a word but I just can’t stand people. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t to smile, I don’t want to think of anything. I just want to be done with this whole overrated-ness. 

 I’m not saying all this because of what happened this week. I’ve felt this way for a long time now. Give me the option of whether to exist or dissipate into star-dust come tomorrow and I will pick the latter. I don’t see a levity that comes associated with things and events. They’re just things and events and they fade as soon as they come.

 I found out today that there’s a pervert living in the next block. I was coming back from the gym and waiting for the lift so I started reading the notices on the board. There is this man living in the next block that has been going around inviting kids to come up to his apartment; enticing them with candies; to take photographs with him. And these kids tell their parents and their parents bring it up to the police and now they’re on the lookout for a suspicious candy-man. Seriously, this pervert needs some older jerk-off materials. It’s like fucking leave the kids alone.

 Pick on someone who has grown a full set of adult teeth. Maybe I’m just jealous that I’m too old for this lecher. You know if I was ever approached by him, what with my rage these days, I’ll stick his camera so far up his ass, he’ll be shitting photo printers.

 I slept lots during the weekend. But it’s still not enough, it’s never enough. I feel a little more rested so I guess it’s good. I stocked up on essentials, shrank my pores, made a list of things I want which I intend to strike off by the end of the year. It should be fun.

 I cannot wait for next week to be over. I cannot wait to get it all over and done with, so I can really chill, celebrate and drink Choya while watching TV. I also cannot wait for this period of uncertainty to be over; for the steady flow for income again. And the feeling of accomplishment.

 I met Rno for lunch during the week where he explained just why he didn’t get my Balenciaga sandals. It was all a matter of logistics and location. But he’s going to New York next week and he’s going to fulfill his promise to get me the pair of sandals I have been lusting for. So I can’t wait till Friday when I get this thing I have to do out of the way and I get a confirmation from Rno that he got my sandals.

 I’ve been on a magazine spree where I am seeking high and low for a perfect men’s fashion magazine. I’ve had enough of the usual men’s magazines where it’s like 5 pages of fashion and then the rest of the magazine being filled with articles I don’t give a shit about; the ones I read and then forget the moment I flip the page. If you want to call yourself a fashion magazine, then stick to fashion and grooming. I don’t need to know about vintage scotch or what women really think because I hate scotch and I can just buy my sisters coffee and rattle off a list of questions for them to answer. Of course, you have the 4 times a year GQ Style issue (that I just bought 2 days ago) but I don’t think there is a comprehensive magazine just for fashion and grooming for men. Or maybe I haven’t found it yet.

 It was just like how I bought a magazine catered to gay men during the weekend. I had no idea it was a gay magazine until I reliased that there were ads where 2 male individuals were being very intimate and of personal lubricants. My first thought was that this was a very liberal men’s magazine. It was all fluff anyway, I didn’t learn anything new and the fashion spread was weak. Which was very disappointing given the fact of how gay men do certain things better.

 I guess I’ll have to keep searching..

 Club 21′s been sending me invites and mailers to sales and summer collection launches. There is a 20% store wide sale at the Club 21 store at The Four Seasons just for today along with champagne. I was also encouraged to spend money in the month of April at any Club 21 store to receive a Haagen Dazs voucher and Spinelli’s vouchers in the month of May. There’s nothing in the stores here that I want. The very 2 items; both Balenciaga, I want, can’t be bought in Singapore and I am very disappointed.

  I have to call Balenciaga up in Paris to track down this pair of sandals I’ve drooled over for months. I have to get it, one way or another. So I am hoping that they can somehow ship it to me here.

 I think some people need to start wearing deodorant when they work out. I was at the gym an hour or so ago and I was the only one until this guy came in. He was in his running shorts and his nylon singlet; his pits exposed and all. When he came close to me to ask if I was using a set of weights, I immediately cringed. He smelt like a mixture of bad eggs, sweat and cooked oil. It was worst when he started working out and sweating some more. So even though it might sound a tad ridiculous to even bother with cosmetics when you’re heading to the gym but really, I don’t think it’s too much to ask if some people cultivated the habit of just slapping on some deodorant or talcum powder under their arms before they leave the house.

 I think that little action will make the world a better place. Or at the very least, smell better.

 I am over this. The past 3 nights of tossing and turning and sporadic sleep resulted in 4 big zits. I only get zits when I don’t sleep well. I am still supposed to be glowing from my beach vacation. This just annoys the hell out of me.

 People have been asking if everything’s alright with me; if I am going through an angst filled teenage phase. I just had to laugh at that. Firstly, I don’t think at 20, I can be considered a teenager; secondly, I got over all teenage angst when I was 15. Thirdly, I’m not in any state of depression just because I don’t want to meet up with people and just because I choose to spend the weekends watching tv and staying away from everything social. There’s nothing to do here and I hate making small talk and everywhere in town is packed on the weekends and I just don’t want to deal with random people. It’s as simple as that.

 I just want to get rid of my damn zits, catch up on my shows and read. And for the occasional Saturday, like tonight, I will head out, meet one of my closest friends, have Mexican food and chug margartitas till we’re both silly. 

 The broadband connection started dicking up on me this morning; I thought it was a usual problem with the router. I couldn’t get it to work so I decided to screw it and I went to bed. I got out of bed and started to deal with the problem again because I cannot not have internet access. I spent 3 hours on the phone with the router vendor and it was so bloody tiresome.

  We tried everything in the book but there was still a problem with the IP address. Then finally, the technical assistance person probably gave up and said ‘The only reason why you would get this particular IP address is if you didn’t pay your bill.’ And it hit me that I totally forgot to pay my bill for this month because what with Bali and errands and shit, it was just at the bottom of my list of things to do. I felt so incredibly stupid. I should have asked him from the very beginning if the cause of it all was because I haven’t paid my bill for this month. It was a bloody waste of time. I was so annoyed with myself that I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

 I keep doing stupid things like that or allowing myself to waste time on very simple things. Just last week, I helped the 2 chicks I hang out with in school to collect the textbooks for the module we all take this semester. This module had 3 textbooks and so with my share, it was 9 textbooks I had to lug home and lug back. I completely didn’t notice the rows of lockers right outside the classroom. I went for my morning and my afternoon class and then rushed home to exchange textbooks and bring the other 6 and then rushed to school. I felt like a complete idiot. Arg.

 Sometimes, I just fucking hate myself.   

 The Club 21 Bazaar turned out to be a fruitful event. I arrived at The Hilton at 10am thinking that I would most probably be one of the first few people. I was so wrong; I arrived and there were already 2 lines formed. I should have known better; I was in town with about 15 mins or so to spare and decided to head to Borders to check out the magazine aisle. I was kicking myself for doing so but oh well.

 I ended up with 3 pieces so I’m glad. I got a Miu Miu shirt, a Miu Miu short-sleeve pullover and a Dolce & Gabanna sweater. I made my way straight to my alteration person to have my new buys nipped and tapered to have them fit better. I should have checked out the shoe section first but for some reason, I didn’t and I regretted so. When I got there I saw a pair of Miu Miu black loafers with stencil-like cut out designs. They were so cute but they have already been snapped up. How unfortunate. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.

 I met my sister Edith for lunch and told her about the bazaar and she took the rest of the day off work and drove down to check it out. She ended with 3 Comme Des Garcons pieces so it seems like 3 was the number of the day yesterday.

 I feel completely languid today. I have no desire to do anything and nothing excites me. It’s kinda of a dull, sad and slow ambivalence. I have no idea why it can be just right the first time for most people but when it comes to me, I have to do twice or 3 times or even more. Why can’t I just it great the first time round?

 Questions I will never have the answers to…

 I am back from Bali. Got back on Moday evening. I came back home, dropped my bags and started running the list of errands I had to take care of. I hadn’t had much time to rest till today. I am still tired and lazy (which I always am anyway) and I have a 9am – 10pm day tomorrow. Oh well.

 I just got back from dinner with Mark where we chatted over sushi and umeshu. I absolutely adore that drink. He got me a $25 HMV voucher to thank me for uploading my music library onto his Ipod. Which i thought was completely sweet. He also bought me dinner, just because. I told him I wasn’t expecting anything in return when I uploaded my entire music library onto his Ipod for the 3rd time.

 I was looking through the map of Europe and mentally planning my year end vacation as Mark dialed a cab for me. I got into the cab and the cab driver stared talking to me. I’m usually not a fan at all of cab drivers trying to strike up a conversation. I just want to be left alone and I am usually with my ipod and I don’t want to have to remove a earpiece and say ‘excuse me’ and have them repeat their random questions over again. It’s tiresome. But I didn’t have my Ipod with me today and the driver was endearing enough. He started asking me questions, and then talked about his son and compared me and his son and I felt a little bad because he was talking about how his son had to deal with furthering his studies after his National Service stint. I could sense his worry with regards to paying for his son’s education and his son’s future.

 It made me think about this afternoon when I was contemplating going for the laser peel treatment on Friday to shrink my pores. The thing it wouldn’t even be a problem if not for the fact that I think the treatment is a tad over-priced. One treatment plus consultation is about $800 or so. And I think it’s steep for just one treatment. It’s fine if it’s a one time thing that would give me smaller pores but it’s something I probably have to do every month. It’s like buying a pair of shoes and the thing is, my complexion is great except for the fact that my pores are enlarged and I just hate how they look. And I would probably rather buy shoes. The conumdrum presented itself in the form of a Club 21 mailer inviting me to a private sale this Friday. I acutally thought the private sale was on a Saturday and so I was weighing my options; cancel the appointment and check out the sale or skip the sale and keep my appointment with the dermatologist. I looked at the mailer again and it turns out that the sale was on Friday which was a no-brainer. I would postpone the appointment and check out the sale and if it was disappointing, I would head down to the skin clinic and if I come out with a few new items from the sale, then hey, great.

 I just thought about how the biggest problem I had today was whether or not to pay $800 to shrink my pores or to spend that money at the Club 21 sale and how minute that seemed compared to the driver’s worry. I completely understand where he’s coming from, I didn’t get everything handed to me from birth. I had to work extremely hard for everything I have today and I am putting myself through college but I also understand that I have been fortunate in this life and I have been blessed with things and oppurtunities of material substance.  

 It’s really about being grateful for the little things, from the HMV voucher that a good friend gives that I am going to use to get Alanis Morissette’s new album in June, and the nice dinner I had to the discount that the cobbler I frequent gave me today when I collected my YSL boots and Dior lace-ups.

 And really, I am going to bed tonight grateful.

  I always find myself missing the food in Bali everytime I think about the island. So needless to say, I spent most meals digging into delicious spicy local flavours. It’s good to be in the sun, doing absolutely nothing but read magazines (and fend off mosquitoes; I fucking hate mosquitoes. I got bitten maybe about 3 times since I’ve been here so I guess that’s not too bad) and eat and visit the spa.

 The Laguna; part of the Starwood Luxury Collection, is a gated resort and I realised how insular it is the other day when it dawned upon me that guests just chill by the compound in the day and then head to the various restaurants at night. There is no need to head out unless you want to do some sightseeing or visit the supermarket or have completely local cuisine. Speaking of the spa, I signed up for treatments the past 3 days and it really wasn’t anything that blew me away or anything I would speak fondly of. The messages weren’t all that relaxing and the facial didn’t give me results I couldn’t produce at home. So it was kinda disappointing.

 It’s definitely a place where newlyweds embark on their honeymoon. There are not too many kids around (which is a great thing) and the walls are thick enough that you don’t hear your neighbours doing their deeds and sowing their seeds.

 The lack of wireless connectivity here annoys me. The internet connection is slow and you need to be connected via the ethernet cable which makes no sense because you can still monitor the usage per room while providing wireless connectivity. Oh well.

 I guess this place is great for people who rather have sex than surf the internet. As for me, I’d rather have both.

 On the flight today, I realised I forgot my camera. Along with the bunch of USD I was supposed to take with me to pay for stuff. I was kicking myself for forgetting my camera again. I had that visceral feeling that I forgot something but I just didn’t know what till it was too late. Oh well. Bummer.

 I had my pores shrink-ed today; it took all of 15 minutes at the dermatologist’s office. I am aware of the fact that I will need to head for a few treatments before I can actually see results but I reckon it’s a start. I hate my pores; they are completely visible and are the size of Tasmania. I haven’t had the time to go pay a visit to my dermatologist in Singapore but I will soon enough. I intend to shrink those darn pores ASAP.

 I realised this afternoon that the YSL boots I just purchased last week were a different pair than the ones I originally wanted. It turns out that the pair I have right now are limited editions; with 256 pairs made. I got the 28th pair so says the print on the sole of the boots. I actually ordered the non-limited edition pair; they have a perforated pattern on the front of the toe and a brown coating under the heel. The limited edition pair has a different stitch design on the front flap of the boots. I have to do a side by side comparison to come up with any other subtle difference. According to the people at YSL, they had an internal server problem and they couldn’t process and ship my order in time so they sent a pair from the flagship store in New York. So that’s the story and I still am pretty certain I like the original pair more. But it would be a bitch to return and exchange for a new pair. So oh well.

 Went to Nami at the JW Marriott for dinner tonight. It’s one of the best Japanese restaurants here in this country. We sat beside this Thai-Indian couple who split their time between Guam and Bangkok. We spent the night chatting with them and had a blast. The lady shared that her brother is in the business of seraching for hotel rooms; so basically, he books and secures hotel rooms all over the world for people who travel. At wholesale prices! How great is that?! I had so much food that I was just filled up. I haven’t felt so full in a while. But it was a good night.

 I am still exhausted and I have an early flight tomorrow. Thank goodness for sleeping pills! 

 I start my semester break today and I’m off to Bali for 10 days. Will be catching up on tv, magazines, lounging in the sun, eating and drinking, working out, hitting the spas almost daily. I need a holiday and though I didn’t pick the location, it’s still going to be nice doing absolutely nothing. I am terribly looking forward to doing just that. For some reason, these few days have been terribly exhausting and I feel myself semi falling asleep as I type this.

 I went to the doctor’s 2 days ago for a follow-up checkup on my injury sustained during the whole window fiasco. Turns out I should have been given a course of antibiotics when I came to see the doctor the first time round and the doctor then, well, he didn’t prescribe any. So my wound now is infected and blah blah. It seems to be getting better but I still feel completely handicapped since I have to reduce the two finger’s contact with water and such. Bloody tiresome.

 I’ll have more than a bunch of stuff to take home with me back to Singapore after Bali. Finally, my purchases and various shit from the US will be duffel-ed up with my name. I also had a great haircut today and collected the round of clothes I had altered. My alteration guy knocked $5 off the final price and apologised for taking so long to alter them all. That was decent of him and it’s delightful when little things like that happen.

 So you know, as usual, here’s to more of such wonderful little things!

 I had a bit of an accident two days ago. It started pouring and the wind was so strong, it threatened to blow my mirror off the wall. I quickly rushed to shut the windows; I was down with the first pane and working on the second one when the wind blew it right into my fingers. It happened so quickly that I had no time at all to react. The impact sliced into my fingers and tore the skin off. It was bleeding profusely and it hurt. I felt a little faint after I washed it. I then had to lie down for a bit. I initially didn’t think I needed a doctor but my sister was adamant that I see one so I did and the doctor said I didn’t need stitches because it wasn’t deep enough but my skin was threatening to fall off so he bandaged it up and gave me some painkillers and charged me about $50 for 5 mins of wrapping two of my fingers. I was like man, but oh well, what can you do. I just think it’s silly to pay extra for things you don’t need to. It’s not plastic surgery or fillers by a top dermatologist. It’s just wound cleaning and bandages. Silly.

 It’s really such a bitch because I can’t shower properly, can’t write properly, can’t brush my teeth properly, can’t work out the way I want to and thank goodness, I’m ambidextrous, if not I won’t even be able to jack off. Kidding, but you get my point.

 I found passion fruit at the supermarket the other day and I was stoked. I love passion fruit and it’s not everyday that you see it in the stores. I add it to my daily shakes and it’s just great. And it was very cheap too.

 Now if only I can say the same for some other things…

 I’ve been so busy this past week and yet I don’t feel any particular motivation to do anything at this point in time. Such bad timing to feel this way. I still don’t feel completely up to being social and dealing with people. I started working out again this week and it’s going good so far. I can’t wait to get the next 11 days over and done with. I might probably feel better by then.

 I caught up with Mark today and I haven’t seen him for about 2 months now. He just got back from his trip and he had a nice tan. We talked and we laughed and we caught up. It was great that we managed to put the past behind us. He still told me constantly today how gorgeous I am; from my body, my teeth to my hair. He said he loves me in the way that if I had a problem, he would do anything to help me out. I felt really fortunate in that moment. We get on famously and there is much to talk about and he has a wonderful soul. I guess that’s the thing about good, solid friendships. It doesn’t matter how often you talk, or how frequent you meet up but you know a friendship’s going last you a long time if you can pick up from where you last left off. And that really is a gift.   

 There was this pair of YSL boots I’ve wanted for months. It’s perforated and carefully stitched and crafted with a 2.5 inch heel. It’s beautiful. The drummer of Kings Of Leon has the same exact pair. I was surfing around during the week and I got on the YSL website to check on the boots again and I was shocked when I realised it was no longer on the website. So i immediately did a Yahoo search and I was lead back to the site but it was an older page with a completely different collection. So either they were in the process of site maintenance or in the midst of phasing the old collection out. Whatever it was, I knew I had to get the pair of boots. So I did and the nice thing was, there was some internal mix-up over at YSL’s end and I had selected ground shipping but the manager told me that they would ship it 2nd Day Air for free. I was pretty impressed with the level of customer service. It should be a given anyway but it was still nice of her. So here they are, my YSL Jonny Boots Betis.

 I was looking for frozen fruit today at the supermarket; thinking a big chain one that caters to expats will carry ones that can be found in the US. The big, huge packs that can last you a month kind. Instead, what I found were tiny packets of organic frozen strawberries and blueberries; the kind that won’t last you 4 days. And the kind that tries to justify $11 for a stupid tiny pack of frozen berries; just because it’s organic. Man, it’s times like these that I absolutely miss Costco. Truly.

 I think it’s stupid paying $11 for a tiny pack of frozen strawberries. I think it’s stupid over-charging anyway. I spend this week avoiding paying extra for everyday stuff. I’ve never really bothered about it before till this week; I don’t know what caused the change. It’s probably the darn USD. I made an extra stop at Watson’s to get some balm for mosquito bites a couple of days ago because I thought it would definitely be more expensive at Jason’s. Turns out, Watson’s charged 35 cents for the same exact product! I was annoyed. It’s the same thing with those darn Neutrogena masks. Now they’re on sale for $1.95 a pop but regularly, they cost like $4 more a pop or something. It’s completely silly, I don’t think there’s much difference between a $5.95 hydrating mask by a known brand and a $1.95 mask by a house brand. No doubt Neutrogena makes good products but to pay an extra $4 for an individual mask? I don’t think so.

 I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m cheap this way. I would pay $1000 for a pair of shoes without blinking an eye but I complain about paying 35 cents more for insect-bite salve. I just don’t see the need to pay extra for the same product or for something that does the exact same thing as a less well known brand. It’s mostly just marketing anyway.

 Speaking of shoes, I bought a pair of boots yesterday. These everyday boots from C’N'C CoSTUME NATIONAL are just what I was looking for. So I was very pleased.

  I still have to go search for frozen fruit tomorrow or the day after. I have a feeling I’m going to have to freeze fresh fruit instead. Oh well.

 After days of waiting and dealing with banks and going through the motion of proving that I indeed made the purchases I made, my items have been shipped. I’m just tired of having to wait and deal with proving that I am legitimate. I got a mesh polo and a vest from Ralph Lauren and a scarf from Paul Smith over the weekend. I also got a replacement Ipod since my old one was faulty. It’s good that it’s still under warranty and Apple basically replaces your cranky one for a new one. I was getting withdrawal symptoms from not being able to have my music with me. It’s all good now.

 I’m waiting for Apple to release a 60GB or 80GB version of the Ipod Touch. That would be perfect and then I can use my paltry current 16GB Ipod Touch for movies and shows. I can barely fit in half my music library into my current Ipod and I hate having to choose between my favourite rock stars. It’s like Apple seems to only come up with new products as soon as you get one. They don’t release them when you’re not intending to purchase anything but as soon as you get something, the better, bigger version gets released weeks later. I need to get a Nano as well for the gym, something light and small that I can throw in my pocket and run and not be weighed down by.

 I met Rno for lunch today and told him about my Balenciaga sandals and a tee I wanted. He’s heading to Paris this weekend. So the timing was perfect! So Rno, if you’re reading this, I am counting on you! Can’t wait till you get back to Singapore. Pick a Brazilian place and I’ll buy you lunch when you get back!

 It’s been raining and raining and it’s bringing me down. How I miss California… 

 That particular Marc Jacobs tee I wanted 1.5 weeks ago was gone when I checked on it this morning. I settled for another Marc Jacobs tee and ended up getting a Lanvin tee as well. After spending a couple of hours figuring out the best way to pay for these without any security hassle, I updated my PayPal account and by the end of next week, I’ll have my two new tees. I signed up for Google checkout as well but was told that I needed to provide a copy of my ID card and my credit card for verification purposes. I’m like what gives? Seriously, all these recent fraud cases are getting on my nerves. Online shopping is one of my favourite past times and having to provide all these extra proof of identity just sucks the joy out of virtual consumerism. I understand the need to protect innocent people from identity thieves and fraudulent impostors but someone needs to come up with a less joy-kill method of verification.

 I’ve been trying to get some new boxers for the past couple of months but I’ve never really gotten down to it. Most of my boxers have lost their elasticity. I got 3 pairs off the Abercrombie & Fitch website a couple of minutes ago. I’m pleased about that. Finally, underwear that fits.

 I also realised that I don’t have much to wear on the beach come Summer or come my next semester break. I will be spending days on the beach and I threw out all my swim wear years ago and the Ralph Lauren beach shorts I got recently are too small so I can’t wear those and I need to go get some swim shorts and a new pair of flip flops.

 I’m addicted to Frutips’ blackcurrant pastilles. I can’t popping them! Talk about a sugar rush…

 I’m having most of my wardrobe altered to fit me better. I love structure and fit and I’m so glad I found an alteration guy that knows what I want and how I want my clothes to turn out. It’s one of the simple pleasures in life; to be able to have clothes that hug and fit you.

 I tried for hours yesterday to purchase this Gucci silk knit skinny tie that had my name written all over it. I have no idea why online boutiques make it so difficult for consumers to purchase stuff. First they had a problem with my billing address then my phone number and then they actually called me up to verify if I actually made the purchase. I understand the rigmarole of internet security to prevent identity theft and fraud but this is just getting on my nerves and the thing was, there was only 2 pieces of the tie left and I had to have it. After hours of trying and frustration, the order finally went through. 

 It’s like how a week and a half ago, I was trying to purchase this Marc Jacobs tee and I was told I had to pay via pay-pal or use google checkout. I was surprised, which major online boutique doesn’t accept major credit cards? I haven’t used pay-pay in years and I’m a little bit skeptical. I need to update my particulars as well so I’m going to look at the tee again this weekend and decide if it’s worth the transaction hassle of pay-pal. Oh well.  

 I’ve been meaning to get a pair of gladiator sandals for a while now. I found the perfect pair this week. It’s everything I want. Black, woven leather, clasp. Pure Balenciaga, Nicolas Ghesquiere genius. It’s unfortunately not sold in Singapore; they don’t sell Balenciaga’s men line here (why I don’t know). So Rno, if you’re reading this, give me a call. If you ever drop by Paris in the coming months, I need you to bring a pair back for me. Merci!

 I need to stop binging. I realised how unusually large my belly has grown and it’s just completely unattractive along with how much I’ve been eating and how constant the thought of food is. Everything’s screwed up because I haven’t been able to sleep well the past couple of weeks. It’s surprising that I’m even functioning.

 Along with not being able to sleep, I’m in this phase where I don’t want to talk to anyone, meet anyone, head out, do anything remotely physical or anything that resembles some inkling of being social. I enjoy time spent alone alot; sometimes too much, I think. And sometimes I get like this; completely cellular.

 I know I’ll get over this; when I don’t know but soon. And oh, I got a bunch of 80s music and they’re awesome!

 My grandmother passed away last weekend. I got back to Singapore on Monday night and I have been dealing with school, the funerals, reports, laboratory sessions; all while trying to catch some decent sleep (to no avail). I am just exhausted and basically, unable to do much beyond my daily routine and even that is a bitch most days.

 I always knew my mother came from a big family but I didn’t know how big it was till I saw the number stats on the wake booklet. My mother has 16 siblings, 13 brothers and sisters-in-law, and I have 31 cousins. Throw in 1 grand niece and another 1 on the its way. I just started thinking about the number and realised something was wrong. I can’t be the only one in the family with homosexual linings and tendencies. According to Kinsey’s sex survey (although its accuracy has been discredited in the course of time), one out of every 10 individual is gay. So according to the survey then, I should have 5 other gay family members but I’m betting it’s a smaller, more realistic number, say 2. I’ve never thought about it till yesterday. I’ve got to keep my eyes peeled more in the future; I might just have more in common with some people I only see once a year than I ever thought I would. I hope my hot cousin bats for my team. The last time I saw him, I remember him being boyish good-looking, jocky, smart, and so polite. A catch. Much fun.

 The US dollar has sunk to a new low today and it’s making me upset and a little depressed. I know things will pick up eventually. But now is now and it’s my whole current reality. And sometimes, I rather not have one at all.

 I am tired. I don’t even think I slept last night. I know I went to bed at 3am, tossed and adjusted the pillows a couple of times and before I knew it it was 1.10pm. All while hearing the next door neighbour’s screaming orgasm yelps. Correction, the next door neighbour’s street whore or wherever he picked her up. She screamed from 2.30am to 4am, then from 4am to 6am and then at 12.30pm, she started screaming again. That was not all, throw in furniture slamming and incessant laughter and you get the fucking soundtrack that kept me up last night.

 The thing is, this is not the first time. It happened the past 2 times I was here. It goes on and on and louder and louder. I’m not jealous that someone is having more sex that I am. Right now, at this point in my life, I want sleep more than I want sex. I can have sex anytime I want but what I can’t have on demand, instantly, is sleep. I almost got to the point; the point of sleep where you finally tip and drift off and don’t realise you actually fell asleep until you wake the next morning when she started screaming.

 I’m all for having sex; hell, I think the more sex people have, the better the world will be. So many people that need to get laid. But when it interrupts my sleep, that is the line crossed. Especially when I can’t beat it and certainly, don’t want to join in. I see flyers notifying residents that throwing cigarettes butts from their respective balconies disrupt the general cleanliness of the estate, flyers informing residents to only wait in the waiting area so as not to hold up incoming traffic, flyers urging residents to be a little more thoughtful of their fellow neighbours. Their fellow friendly neighbours. Maybe I should go do a flyer encouraging that boom-box whore to use her bedroom voice along with her client’s unit number. That should get someone’s attention.   

 Maybe my internal sleeping mechanism is faulty from the years in high school where I fought sleep to work out and have transatlantic relationships. I barely slept during my puberty years and I always felt tired and exhausted and slept felt so good. If there’s one thing I regret, it would be that I didn’t sleep more. If I have slept more, I would probably have been physically bigger and taller which is something I think about sometimes and my autonomic hibernating system would probably be less fucked up than it is now. 

Oh, to go back to that time when I could just fall asleep, just like that. I got to thinking that maybe I ought to buy a new bed. Something I can sink into. But then I would have to need to make space in my room for a bigger one. Just one more thing to think about.

 For now, there is science and little pills….

 Things are finally falling into place. I got my deferment and I was made to sign an underlying contract stating that I shouldn’t and wouldn’t apply for deferment after this is done. I don’t have a problem with that anyway; I have no intention of dragging this all any further so it all worked out. There is just one more thing I have to deal with and then I can finally heave a sigh of relief. Just a little while more before I can celebrate and pop some champagne.

 I’ve had a crush on John Cusack since I was 13. He’s so handsome with such kind eyes. He’s got a face I can spent years studying. I just watched Martian Child and there was a line in the movie when he said, “I deserve you, I really do.” If he ever said something like that to me, oh, one can only wish. I have a feeling I’ll meet him one day, I’m sure the people I know in LA know people who know people who know him. I’m sure he’s straight as an arrow but he embodies the physical aspects and the charismatic draw of someone I can grow old with…

 I just realised that I have been chowing down on expired protein bars the past 4 days. I have an oatmeal raisin one when I get out of bed everyday and I was doing the same thing today; just chewing and thinking and staring into space when I started reading the label. I did a double take when I saw the best-by date: 08/21/07. It expired on 21 August 2007. It took me half a second to register that fact that it was 2008 now. That certainly explains why I have been constipated the past 3 days.

 At least I realised it before I finished the whole box. I guess, like most things in my life, it’s better to reach the point of finally later and be able to move forward than to not get there at all.

 And oh, I’m pissed off at WordPress. I saved an entry to go edit some features for a couple of minutes and when I started looking for my entry, it was nowhere to be found. I have to redo the entry and I hate doing so. It’s just a bloody waste of time.  

 I woke up today and did my usual email round when I found out that I got a year’s subscription of GQ as a Valentine’s Day gift. I thought that was very thoughtful and sweet. And it was just lying in my junk mail folder and it was a good thing I scan through that everyday. Valentine’s Day means nothing to me; it’s just another excuse to inflate the prices of flowers and mediocre food. Two things I don’t care for. It’s the little acts of patience and kindness you give and show everyday that counts at the end of the road. Everyday should be a special cause for celebration, if you ask me.

 And in my world, a cause for celebrations means buying shoes. I was kicking myself a little sporadically whenever I thought about this pair of Dolce & Gabanna Black Python Loafers.

I should have gotten them; they would completely come in handy for casual summer days. Which is, most of the year, in Singapore. I slept on it and then, my size was gone the next day. Such a bummer.

 I was just surfing and thinking of said python loafers when I caught sight of this exquisite pair of black leather oxfords. This chic pair of oxfords by Christian Dior; with cut out square designs and a cool two hole lace up vamp. It is so me and I had in mind to get a pair of black oxfords and I found it! I immediately added it to my cart and bought it. I’m really looking forward to wearing my new Dior. Say Hello.

 So this is my present to myself. I don’t believe in Valentine’s Day but I do believe in buying presents for myself. Just because.

 There’s this huge lack of motivation these days to do anything save sleep, eat and buy shoes. I don’t want to do anything or go anywhere. I’m making it a point to get up at a pretty decent time in the morning everyday so it means setting up alarm up and getting up everyday at the same time; no matter how late I slept the previous night. That should get my body clock back in order.

 Went out for drinks with Dave’s young boys on Saturday night. I had to do a bit of baby-sitting which is something new to me. But it was alright. It was interesting to see it all through someone who is just starting to come out, this otherwise old, tired cliche routine. So one of Dave’s boys brought along a friend and turns out, said friend had a thing for me. He’s this college boy who likes younger guys and likes taking care of them. He asked his friend for my number and he wanted to ask me out and take care of me. Which I found extremely amusing. Because he called me and in the midst of the small talk, he asked if I could call him back using a land line and I said I didn’t have one (although I do; my cordless phone is just a tad faulty) but I could call him back if he was worried about paying for a few outgoing minutes. He said no and it was because he wanted to take care of me so we continued talking for a couple of minutes and then it came; he asked if I could call him. I said sure (I was just trying to be nice). So I called him and he asked me out this weekend and I told I couldn’t make it. He asked if I would be attracted to him if I was single, I told him I wouldn’t be. Which disappointed him but oh well.

 In an earlier conversation, he said something like he thinks I’m still immature which made me chuckle because no one has ever; in my existance, used that word on me. I just listened and he says he’s so much more mature than me because he has slept with chicks or something. Which puts him in a better position to take care of him which is what he would like to do. How can you possibly take care of me if you can’t even pay your phone bills? How can you possibly think you’re matured than me just because you’ve gone to third base with teenage girls? How can you think you’ve seen more than I have when you’ve barely ventured out of the country? What a joke.

 I got a really old-school text message the other day from his other guy who tried to pick me up on Saturday night. It was this generic text message filled with semi-colons and commas constructing a pig or some animal. I’ve never been a fan of such stupid, chain messages but I haven’t received one in years so it was a surprise. Albeit, a bad one.

 Such irony; you get boys thinking they’re men and men wanting to be boys again…

 I lost $115 or so this past 3 days on card games. It’s really not my year to gamble, I think. I also just counted my haul for this year. And excluding my sister’s cheque, it’s not even enough to fully pay for the upcoming bills. So I’ll still need to make a trip to the ATM.

  It’s like: Dry Cleaning Tab – $36

                 Clothes Alteration – $100

                 Broadband Bill – $73

                 Cab Fare Tomorrow – $40

                Watching Project Runway; eating cuttlefish and drinking Choya in my boxers – Priceless

 For everything else, there’s always your older, foreign boyfriend.  

 Met Dave and Kris for drinks last night; where we heard more about Kris’ escapades the past 1.5 weeks ago. Mike came strolling in and the 4 of us started hanging out and it was fun. Turns out these 3 guys have more than one thing and one individual they know in common. It just further proves how terribly small this whole covey is. It’s one thing I detest about it all; this tiny, recycled meat circle. It’s like so is this it?

 I came home after having supper with Kris and Mike and realised I dropped a 50 dollar note somewhere and I hate it when I do shit like that. It’s only 50 bucks but it’s still sheer carelessness and I don’t seem to learn but this time I will. I just hope someone who needs it more than I do picks it up.

 I got an electric shaver this afternoon and it’s goodbye to cautiously trying to not cut myself as I shave. It’s annoying and I barely have anything to shave but I do need to so this would be less tedious. Met Kris for sushi after 4 hours of sleep and this other friend of his. We checked out this new sushi joint; maybe it wasn’t new but to me it was. I gave the server my card to charge lunch on it because I didn’t want Kris to pay for lunch and I paid for 3 movie tickets after for Away From Her. Kris, of course, said thank you and was grateful and I told him it was nothing. I had such a smashing time in LA last year and it was mostly because of Kris. Kris’ friend, on the other hand, didn’t utter a single thank you the whole afternoon. It was just like he was expecting it to be paid for. I didn’t even think about it till I was alone this afternoon when I realised that. I just think it’s strange and so impolite.

 Another thing that annoyed me today was how I couldn’t use my Starbucks stored value card I got for Christmas here in Singapore. I could use it anywhere in the US and probably other parts of the world but I just don’t get why I can’t use it here. You would think, Singapore would be a place where you could use your Christmas present. Oh well.  

 I got back part of the 50 bucks I lost last night from playing cards tonight. I hope this is a good sign for more to come. For bigger things and for resolution for the things that dampen my day and keep me up at night. I just can’t simply wait to get over this whole period. Here’s to more! So much more!

 I just got back home from Dave’s house party in honour of Kris’ arrival from LA. It was a pretty great party where alcohol and conversations flowed freely. I got to Dave’s 20 minutes late; thinking I’ll be the last one there. Turns out, there were 3 other boys there before me. The worst part of it? I was the oldest out of all of them. And it dawned upon me that I’ve got to get used to being the oldest of the youngest in the future because there is going to be boys much younger that me; time and time again.

 So one of Dave’s young thing who is currently serving his 2 years of National Service in the Commando Unit; had more than he could drink and was completely wasted by 1am. I knew he was getting to his threshold by the increase volume of his voice and the added physical articulation of his actions. Dave, of course being the good host, kept refilling his glass and the poor boy kept drinking. Till it got to the point where he had to go puke in the spare bathroom; one he barely known for 2 weeks. I made sure he had Aspirin and lots of water and I chucked his martini glass in the sink.

 So when all this was happening, another one of Dave’s young boys, started making fun of the whole situation which I thought was completely uncalled for. He laughed at the other guy was widely exaggerating his reactions and how he locked himself in the bathroom for a good 30 mins. He also laughed at how the poor guy needed to purge it all out.

 So it was Dave, his two disgustingly young boys, me and Kris’ sexy Realtor. Given one was in the bathroom hugging the marble toilet bowl; it was just down to the 4 of us. We sat and drank and talked some more till it was time to call it a night. So the 3 of us shared a cab back and we were talking and laughing till we realised Dave’s young boy was sound asleep. The cab driver got to said young boy’s place where he immediately covered his mouth as if he was about to barf. And it turns out, he did. And since I was sitting beside him, he purged on my left hand and all over the cab door as I was trying to open the door for him. Great, just great. Just what I needed.  He then, left us with the mess, said goodbye and walked home. Without offering to clean up hid putrid remains or pay for his share of his cab fare.

 The poor cab driver had to offer his bottle of water for the night to wash off the vomit. I stood there, rinsing off some young boy’s vomit while Kris’ Realtor helped wiped it off his sheets and sheets of Kleenex that the cab driver provided. I called Dave after when it was all done to tell him what had happened. Then I got a text message from the boy who puked; apologising for what he had done. But it was still not enough. But whatever. I tipped the cab driver extra and told him to head to the nearest petrol station to get his cab washed.  

 So I got home, scrubbed my puked-on hand again and again. Sanitised it and washed it again. Oh man, I should just get used to this; there will always younger boys talking trash, drinking too much and inevitably puking their guts out. Such is growing up.

 But someone owes me dinner for cleaning his mess up. That’s the bare minimum. You know, after all, my rate’s not cheap.

 I feel like I just got burnt by the sun and it’s completely weird. I haven’t been in the sun at all this week and the only thing I did yesterday that exposed me to any UV rays was to spend 15 minutes at the tanning salon. I don’t burn or turn lobster red so this is very strange. I did think that I might be coming down with a case of the hives because my back felt annoyingly itchy last night. It must be the torture of being in limbo coupled with the shitty dollar rate, the spiralling stock market and the fact that I can only fall asleep after 6am everyday. This needs to stop.

 I felt completely Blah today. I’ve got completely no motivation what so ever to do anything. I’ve been craving an In-N-Out burger this past 4 days and the only thing that comes close to it here is Carl’s Jr but it’s just out of the way from school and it’s too much hassle to travel and jostle for a fast food meal. But I really felt like a fast food meal tonight so I hit Burger King and it did satisfy my craving. I then headed to the supermarket to get a bottle of Honey Choya because it’s Friday and because it’s like my favourite thing to drink on the rocks. The lousy supermarket didn’t carry the honey one, neither did it carry the chips and various junk food I wanted. That was a bummer. But I did get a can of abalone and 2 packs of my favourite instant noodles; they go so well together. So it really wasn’t a wasted trip.

 I found this video and it’s pretty funny. Mother walks in on son masturbating. It’s vintage. I did think the kid made it pretty obvious that he was masturbating though; he could have just pretended he was scratching his growing pubes. You know after all, it’s what pubescent boys do.

 I found a great way to reuse the couple of pairs of shoes that have been laying idle in my closet for the longest time; they’re all in great condition and can still be worn. I’m going to send them to Shoe4Africa; an organisation that collects excess shoes and redistributes them in Africa, benefiting kids and adults alike who otherwise would continue to be infected with Intestinal Worms. Close to 92% of Kenyan children tested had Hookworm, which enter the body through exposed bare feet. Through their popular self-organised sporting events, Shoe4Africa provides on-site Aids testing. Today, more than 14 million orphans have been left behind by the Aids pandemic; approximately 92% of them live in Africa. It’s a heart-wrenching plight. It might be just old shoes to us but to them, it means the world. Natalie Portman’s an ambassador and so is Cameron Diaz. Do check them out: http://www.shoe4africa.org/mission.html.

 I’ve been trying to get off my ass and be a little less languid during the day. These days, all I want to do is absolutely nothing. I really just want to go into deep slumber and not bother about waking up. Or just do nothing but curl up and read. I’m too lazy to even sort out my music library. I had to drag myself to the gym these past few days just so I can feel a little more productive.

 I just want to start being excited about things again and be absolutely clear about my next steps and my whereabouts. To start breathing easily again. Soon soon, I hope.

 Had drinks at Dave’s last night where we finished a bottle of Absolut between the two of us and chatted till past 3 in the morning. He was showing me pictures of his various boys in various states of undress. They were mostly naked and then the subject of circumcision came up and he brought up the fact all the Chinese boys that he had slept in Singapore with have been uncircumcised. So he reached a conclusion that most Chinese Singaporean boys are uncut. Which I said was strange because I thought that most Singaporean Chinese boys were circumcised at birth or during their early years. And I have not slept with any uncut Singaporean men which further proves my point since Dave likes his boys young. So we made a wager; I was to go ask my brother if he was circumcised and I’ll ask my sister if her husband’s cut. I know they’re both cut; if I’m not wrong and Dave thinks they’re uncut and loser buys dinner. So I should start thinking of what I want to eat.

 I found a place for pretty decent buffalo wings. It’s in deep near an army camp and it probably isn’t worth getting lost and spending an hour trying to find the damn place which was what my brother and his girlfriend did 2 weeks ago. But thanks to Google Maps, we found it tonight. My steak was completely mediocre which was disappointing because I was in the mood for a good steak.

 Just like how I’ve been craving instant noodles with abalone for the longest time. And I mentioned it over dinner and my brother went, “Oh you’re so high maintenance; instant noodles with abalone, but let’s go get some.” Because he wanted some as well.

  So it’s really not just all me. And I’m talking about the uncircumcised bit as well.

 I just finished my first report of the year and I feel a good sense of accomplishment. I started to wonder, no not wonder, ponder just how different things might be if I had picked an easier major. One which I am actually good at and am genuinely interested in. An easy one like Communications that I’ll breeze through instead of struggling like how I am now. Sometimes, when I think about it all, I kick myself for not thoroughly grasping my limitations and for ignoring my far superior right brain to instead get an education where I would need to use my left brain more. Seriously.

  I stood in the laboratory today and it just hit me that I barely understood what was happening. Sure, I have an idea what I’m doing and the sense behind it all but it always takes me a longer time to figure it all out which wouldn’t be happening if I was pursing a major that involved skills that I already have. But what can you do? You get choices in life and you make them and you just have to stick by them. At least I’ll have more options in the future. But that doesn’t really matter because I already know what I want to do and I won’t be needing a Life Science degree. But you never know.

 I really just want to get this all over and done with. Just like how I want the US dollar to go up and the whole bloody stock market to correct itself. So much money have been lost these past 3 weeks and it’s really time to make it all back and more. Oh well.

 But hey, now I have 2 more things to keep me awake at night. Just exactly what I needed.

 It hit me today that I’ve spent most my life trying, in one aspect or another, to please other people. Linda, Denisa, Ben and I went from room to room last night while Ben decided on the room he wanted to dance in. Since he was from out of town and that made him a guest, the natural thing to do would be to constantly check if there was somewhere else he wanted to check out. Earlier on at the bar, Ben told me that he was really glad to meet me and that he wasn’t excepting to meet someone like me because Denisa had told him that they were both going to hang out with Linda and I and that was it. Linda was telling me how Ben had told her earlier that he fancied me and it was then that Denisa came rushing to check if I was alright and that Ben was not being too aggressive. Which I thought was really sweet of her. Because she said she had never once; in the years they’ve known each other, heard Ben gush over someone like he did me. I told her I was fine and it was completely alright.

 So at the club, Ben made his moves and tried to make out with me a couple of times which made it even clearer that he was expecting something from me. Linda needed to call it a night because her feet was killing her from all the shuffling from room to room. Outside the club, Denisa and Ben wanted to continue partying which I was up for but decided against because it would probably give Ben the wrong impression, which he had already formed. His disappointment was so apparent when I told him I was leaving with Linda that it made me feel like I had hurt him or something. 

 I was merely trying to make sure he enjoyed his Saturday night out on the town and now, I’m the bad guy?  

 I spent the weekend trying to figure out just what I intended to attain from this weekend rigmarole of hanging out and making conversations over alcohol. I tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that I hoped to achieve with this current routine. I came to the conclusion today that I was not ever going to get anything even close to resembling what I ultimately want out of life right now at the current juncture of my being; especially not at places like such. I needed to realise that and I’m glad it’s out of my system. Just like how I was craving chicken and then ordered a bucket of chicken and finished it in one sitting.

 I do love me some fried chicken; occasionally.     

 I find myself drifting to sleep only after 4.30am every morning. That means I spend hours trying to even get to sleep. It’s completely unproductive I know and I shall do something about it. It’s either one thing or another that I think about and last night it was the possibility that Jim might get a job and relocate here sometime this year. I don’t think we’ll survive it if he makes the move. Firstly, I’m not ready to move out of my place and go share a living space with him for an extended period of time. His personal and bathroom habits annoy me and I like my current living situation just the way it is right now. Secondly, I like my freedom, my space and I enjoy being alone. I like just picking up and going somewhere and doing whatever I want. If he was here, I would have to think about fitting him into my spontaneous whims. Most importantly, he put me through a lot of unnecessary bullshit when we first started out and it lasted for a good year or so. Him being physically here, would remind me of all that and there only way to get it all behind me is to end it with him. And that leads to the question of what’s going to happen if it doesn’t work out between us when he’s here because I was here first and this is my place and he should go find his own corner. Anywhere but here.

 I don’t want to think about it or have to deal with it. I just wish things in the US would work out because if they do, it would be great for him. It would mean flexibility and travel and loads of fun. And the option to move here would cease to surface; at least for a while. I tried explaining it to him earlier on today and for some strange reason, I have so much difficulty articulating my thoughts when it comes to this matter. Because it’s just tough to put into words where I’m coming from when it comes to this. Arg.

 I think I just need to sleep. Sleep well and sleep good. I can’t deal with shit in my current state. Soon soon, I’ll get my workout routine back and start sleeping again.

 I got a Comme Des Garcons shirt yesterday and a Paul Smith wallet to replace my current one. It’s been less than a year since I got my current Paul Smith wallet but it’s already been stained by my jeans and the colour of the iconic stripes have faded and I have no idea how to polish them or clean them to remove everyday stains. So I was initially planning to get another one when I find a Paul Smith store that carries the specific one I want. But I found it last night so it worked out well.

 Now if only some other things would work just as well.

 I am pissed at myself. I wore my new pair of Hugo Boss shoes last weekend and I realised that it’s a tad too loose in the width area. I should have stuck to my original pair and not have gone back to change for one half a size bigger. Now I’m terribly annoyed at myself. I want things to be right; to fit right and feel right and shoes are my thing so naturally, I want all my shoes to fit as good as they look. I have two options now; one, to ship them back to Seattle and try to re-exchange them for the original pair and the other, to get thicker socks. The latter options makes more sense. So I need to go hunt for thick black dress socks; as thick as athletic ones. Arrg.

 I finally got my shirts back and I’m glad they all fit much better now. I cleared my wardrobe last night and by the time I was done, I had a bag full of tees and shirts to alter. I feel a little lighter now that I know I can get anything tailored and altered to fit. So damn, if only I had known that while I was in Seattle, I would have bought so much more shit at Barney’s.  Especially that Alexander McQueen shirt. Oh well.

 I need to start working out again. I’m getting pudgy and I’m just generally slowly growing out of shape. But the thing is, I don’t care. I just don’t.

 Just like how I’m over being in limbo. I just want to know the outcome so I can make plans and know where I’m going and what exactly to do.

 I just want to get to the point when everything fits right and I feel right and I can look back on this period and be so fucking thankful it’s behind me.

 Just a couple more months; now if only I can fit my schedule in sooner… 

 I’m writing this from my new PC. I spent the last couple of days trying to get this piece of hardware up and running. I had to make 2 trips down to the store; lugging my new 19 inch LCD monitor back and forth to deal with a faulty graphics card but now that everything’s been taken care of; I’m a little more relieved. I’m still getting used to the size of said LCD monitor; I got it for Christmas from my brother and his girlfriend. It’s just really big and my eyes will need some time to adjust.

 So Doug asked me out to dinner on Sunday night. We went to Rochester Park and I had to call the restaurant for directions since having only been in Singapore for 3 months in 2007; I have no clue where the new restaurants and watering holes are. It was obvious that he wanted to get into my pants. And he made it even more obvious over post- dinner drinks at Hed Kandi.

 ”You have pretty skinny legs for someone who runs constantly.” He commented as he stroked and felt my legs.

 ”Yeah, I have pretty slim legs. They’re slim but they’re toned and you’re not going to see them tonight.” I said, matter-of-factly.

 ”Oh, but I can still feel them right?” He asked cautiously.

 ”Knock yourself out.” I answered flatly.

 ”So you’ve already made your decision that you’re not going home with me, huh?” He inquired as he spun his chair around.

 ”Yup, I did.” I said as I finished up my drink.

 I’m like seriously; you ask me out to dinner and then I had to search for a restaurant; make reservations and oh, pay for my dinner (which I never have a problem doing). But you don’t ask a boy to dinner and then split the bill; let alone have him google for restaurants and rest on the fact that you’re a foreigner in town. Whenever I’m abroad, I still know what I want to eat and where I want to go. So really.

 This chick; who was an hour late, sat beside me in class on Monday and it’s like they’re all the same. They all lack basic manners and social decorum. She asked if she could have a sip of water from my bottle because her mouth’s really dry. I looked at her stunned. She was a complete stranger to me and it was akin to going up to any random person and asking them if you could share their Big Gulp. You don’t do that. I told her she could have some water. 30 minutes later, she asked if she could borrow my pen to sign the attendance file, I said yes again and she signed the file and then dumped the file and pen on my notes without even a thank you and left to scramble to borrow the notes for the past lecture. That wasn’t all; throughout the lecture, she kept kicking my chair. I glared at her and she looked back at me directly in the eye and I told her to stop kicking my chair. It took like a second for her to register what I said and she apologised.

 I then found out that she’s not liked by anyone in the class. She and her other friend make use of other people, borrow things, never return them and refuse to share their notes with anyone; even if said person might have helped them out in the past.

 It’s all the new money people. The rising middle class. Sure, money can pay for a good education but that doesn’t equate social graces. Idiots.

 And oh, I bought a Paul Smith necklace the other day. And I have yet to clear out my wardrobe and the alteration guy is taking a really long time to fix my shirts. Tsk tsk.

 Someone needs to be spanked.

 I met Dennis for a round of drinks last night and he shared that he wanted a nose job. I sorta had a feeling that was coming up and I told him he should keep the news to a selected few; for obvious reasons, and that I was honoured that he asked for my opinion. There was a Prada model look-alike last night at the bar, he even had those cute geeky glasses. He checked me out a couple of times and it was a tad funny to watch his pick for the night continuous attempt to vie with his cellphone for his attention. I did a double take when said Prada model look-alike stood up to go to the bathroom. His pants were pulled up to the mid portion of his belly. It was so wrong.

 I have still yet to begin dealing with my deferment process. It’s so far beyond my control that I just think it’s better to just get it over and done with. And of course it is but I need to go in with the knowledge that I’ll be guaranteed a clerical posting and that’s the only thing I’m in limbo here about right at this point in time.

 I milked the fact that it was my birthday for all that it was worth on the two flights back to Singapore. There were only 4 of us in business class on the flight to Narita and I was asked if I was staying on in Tokyo because the stewardesses wanted to give me a good bottle of champagne to celebrate but that wouldn’t clear customs so it wouldn’t made sense. The crew on flight back to Singapore came by my seat one after another to wish me and before we landed, they made an announcement and the whole crew came over with an ice cream sundae and sang Happy Birthday. It was pretty sweet of them to do so.

 I took a rain cheque for my birthday gift from Jim. I have yet to find something I really want. Except probably get this whole tedious, time wasting period of my life over with.

 I was infatuated last night. I found this Barney’s exclusive John Varvatos Converse sneakers that had my name written all over it. I couldn’t stop staring at it. It’s painted, high top with studs at the side of the laces and the back linings. I had to have them and I do now. I just got back from Barney’s and I got myself a pair. I’ve always been a fan of John Varvatos’ collaboration with Converse and this pair is just the reason why. It’s so me.

  I also got myself a Balenciaga shirt. I was thrilled at finding that at Barney’s. It was one of the shirts that I thought weren’t in my size when I was at the store the other day but I guess, I was meant to have it. I love clothes that run small because of my size and Balenciaga’s clothes run small and all I need to do when I head back to Singapore is to take it to my tailor for a little bit of nip and tuck and it’ll look awesome.

 I finally found a pair of black jeans the other day. They are Jett Black in fact and I had a discount code so it was perfect. It’s a J Brand straight leg pair and I got it along with this narrow fit Helmut Lang shirt. Notice the detail on the cuff. It’s got an elastic band instead of buttons. And I like how it’s a tad more obvious in this Navy shade as opposed to it in white.

 I’ll be spending my birthday flying across the pacific. So thanks much guys for all the wishes!

 I’m back in Seattle. Arrived sometime yesterday afternoon and did my usual; hit the news stand and got the latest issues of the couple of publications that I read regularly. Headed straight down to the office from the airport to say Hi and Goodbye to Aaron who’ll be heading down to San Diego for Christmas and New Year’s and to hand him the insulated Royce chocolates he so loves. And of course, to collect the 7 or so packages with my name on them.

 It was on the flight to Hong Kong that that I realised that the left side of my tonsils are still inflamed. I had thought I fully recovered but I was so wrong. It’s such a bitch to swallow anything now. Anything except semen but I won’t be giving any blowjobs till I’m completely healed. So much for Christmas, huh boyz?

 I am writing this in bed wishing that there’s a pint or so of ice cream left in the freezer. I have a serious craving for ice cream and I am kicking myself for not getting any when I was at Safeway yesterday.

 I woke up today thinking about ice cream and financial care. I had dawned upon me that I have been taking care of myself financially since I was 16. I am putting myself through college, I’m making sure my younger siblings have enough to complete their education, I pay all my bills as soon I get them. I had always been taking care of things since I can remember and today, I found myself wishing that someone else’s responsibility would remain theirs and not mine. That I can live and drive towards filled bowls that will remain mine; all mine to consume. That someone else, for a change, will be looking out for me and making sure and ensuring and bearing all that I have been saddling on my shoulders these years.

 Of course, I’m terribly grateful for all that I have and I have more that what most people my age and even some twice my age do. But I sometimes hope for the inkling of being able to just do it all for me. The semblance of being carried and fathered; just for a little while.

 I’m not even bothered about the current possibility of me having to serve my compulsory military service sometime next year. I have applied for further deferment and made my case and whatever the outcome may be, I somehow know that it will be for the advancement of my life plans. I’m grasping on the fact that that barely anything is in my control and I’m surrendering it all to a higher power. And now that I think about it, it would mean being able to move to LA a year quicker! Time will tell.  

 Somehow I know that the more I give, the more I’ll would get back. There is abundance up the road ahead and I am barely just beginning.

 I am down with a bout of Tonsilitis. I barely have a voice and sporadic temperature flushes have kept me awake the past 2 nights. I was puking my guts out on Friday morning when I realised that this is the sickest I have been in over a year. I’m so over it.

 Dave cooked a 3 course dinner for me on Thursday and he made sure my glass was never empty. I was sitting by the kitchen counter, with home-made martinis and nibbling on romaine lettuce bits; watching him prepare dinner. I really like that; I really dig it when a man creates something with his hands out of barely nothing. We were conversing when it became clear that he had all along assumed that I was single.

 We went up to the roof of his penthouse after dinner and Dave opened up the bottle of Greek Visanto Wine that I had brought over. It was just us and good wine and the cool December air. I told him that 2 months ago, on one of my many flights back to Singapore, I realised that if the plane were to crash; I would die happy. Happy because I have done whatever I wanted to do. I haven’t done everything I want to do nor achieve everything I want to but if my time was up, I would go happy.

 He misunderstood me and said, “Look, you’re saying this because you think you’ve been through a lot and know a lot but when you get to my age, you’ll realise your circle just became so much larger and there is so much you don’t know.”

 ”I completely understand that. But that wasn’t what I was trying to imply. I was merely sharing with you that if I were to be on a faulty plane, I would go a happy person because I would be the one person able to sit back admist all the chaos and smile knowing that if I go, I would have lived my life the way I wanted to. At least I went knowing that.” I responded immediately.

 ”Ahh, I get it, I get what you’re trying to say now.” He apologised.

 I hate it when men do that. It’s like they think I’m completely oblivious to the fact that I don’t know everything and that I am barely just beginning. And they feel they somehow need to ‘impart’ their life lessons to me. It’s like lesson number 1: Fucking listen. Dave had previously, over the course of our dinner conversation, jumped to 2 other conclusions about me because he simply didn’t take the time to digest what I was saying. But I’m just not motivated enough to retell it all again here.

 But the night was good. Dave’s good company and we get along well. I’ll see him around.

 Just got back from drinks with Mark. We spent more than 3 hours catching up. From him catching Tori Amos live in Brisbane, to his new place, to my new place, to his travels, to my travels, to his 2008 plans, to his intention to move to Holland in 2009 etc.

 I finally made peace with him and he said it’s all in the past. He once said he could never hate me and he reminded me of it again tonight.

 ”It’s never been hate, Nick, it’s more fustrated and disappointed and hopeful and grateful and confused with you.” He continued.

 I told him I was not going to apologise anymore because it wouldn’t change a thing and it wouldn’t justify what I did to him but he said it’s behind him and so like that, it’s behind me as well.

 But we had a blast and it was just like old times. He said that he had always thought he would bump into me one day and we would talk and catch up and be good again. I told him it was funny because I sometimes think about that too. But we never did bump into one another.

 He kissed me goodbye and gave me a hug and said it was really good to see me as he opened the cab door for me. I told I would see him soon. And just like that, I realised, we were back to being friends. 

 I spoke to Mark yesterday. He filled me in on the places he’s been and the events that have taken placed in the last 1.5 years that have changed the way he view his temporary home state. He referred to the proverbial chunk of time we were together as the ‘period of time spent with you’. He said my phone-call was a surprise and I told him it’s about time that I gave him a call. We’re having drinks on Friday night; it’s high time I apologised and made amends.

 Dave texted me last night and asked what time I was coming over because dinner was almost ready. He’s someone who’s been trying to get into my pants since the day we were introduced. I knew it was a ruse so I called him and I was right. He had clean forgotten (so he claims) about him inviting me for dinner and I had made other plans because I knew it wasn’t going to happen. We rescheduled for tomorrow.

 I have almost given up on looking for the next pair of shoes to gift myself. I looked everywhere today. Dolce & Gabanna again, Gucci, Prada, Emporio Armani, Calvin Klein. Zilch. But I did find a really cool patent grey belt at Calvin Klein which I bought after they adjusted the length.

These few days of insomnia have totally taken their toll. I have no idea why I can’t sleep. I’m breaking out and I’ve got a bitch of a sore throat and a bit of a temperature. These only happen when I don’t get enough sleep. Maybe I’ll go see a shrink or a sleep therapist. I need some good pills.

 I just want to be able to sleep. Is there too much that I’m asking for?

 I’m going to write Friday night’s episode as a lesson on how not to shoot myself in the foot and how not to ask for it. I lost my watch; one that was given to me as a gift. Only because I asked for it. You get choices in life and if you pick one, you have to stand by it. Even if it’s the wrong one and you’re left wondering why the fuck you did so the afternoon after. Write it off as something I lost when I torched my own roof. So be it.

 I met a Mark-double Friday night. He was sitting on the steps outside dialing for a cab. Linda was trying to get one as well to take us to the club so I sat beside him while she did that. He reminded me so much of Mark that I had to stop and catch a breath. I asked if he was working for the British Council and he said he was a Scientist. I told him I majored in BioMedical Science and he expressed doubts.

 He said, “So you’re an Asian with really white teeth, chewing gum and majoring in BioMedical Science?”

 ”Yeah, do you want proof?” I answered, while trying to capture his face.

 ”I thought gum was illegal here. How did you get yours? And do you have some with you?” He moved on; clearly displaying signs that he was FOTP (Fresh Off The Plane).

 I told him I didn’t bring any with me. But I offered him some Altoids instead.

 His cab arrived 10 seconds later and he hopped on; only to lean out; door wide open, looked at me and looked at Linda and said something along the lines of, “Take good care of him would you? He’s a special bunch of trouble. That he is!”

 I could have jumped into his cab and wrangled something more out of him but I didn’t. I just stood there, and watched his cab drive off.

 I thought about Mark and how I should give him a call. But I don’t know how I’m going to construct my words into sentences that makes sense or warrant my calling him up. And if he even wants to speak to me. There is no room to justify the bastard I was to him and I wish there was a way I could make things right. Some way I could learn how not to bite the hands that used to love me.

 Some way to learn how not to die emotionally alone.

 I tried to track down the pair of Lanvin Patent Derby shoes today but was told that the store here wouldn’t be bringing it in. So I popped into the Calvin Klein store and got a shirt. I also got a tailor reconmmendation from one of the chicks working there. I took my new purchase in and it would be ready tomorrow. Talk about being efficient. If this tailor works out well, I would be pleased. I have a bunch of new shirts all waiting for him to start working on. I also bought a pretty cool cashmere cardigan at Helmut Lang on Friday.

 I’m going to start wrapping Christmas presents. It is, after all, better to give than to receive.

 Picking up from where I left off the other day, I continued the search for go-fuck-yourself shoes.

 This pair of Dolce & Gabanna Mirrored Leather Wingtip Oxfords is available for pre-orders. Calfskin and double stitched throughout, this pair with its mirrored finish screamed ‘Look at me!’. Usually, this would fall into the category of the exact type of shoes that I would lust over but this pair just screams a little too loudly for my liking.

 This pair of Salvatore Ferragamo Notte Slip-On caught my eye by surprise. I’ve never paid much attention to Ferragamo’s line of shoes but there were a couple from their Studio Collection that were sleek and demanded a second, closer look. Especially this pair; Black patent leather with grosgrain strap across front vamp. I dig how the extra detail enhances the overall look of the shoes. My only suggestion: A sharper, pointed tip would add another level of desire.

 I’ve been hanging out on Facebook via my Ipod Touch and I am thrilled at what this nifty little gadget can do. I didn’t have much time to explore the other features of the Touch when I first got it a month or so ago. But I will be surfing and virtual shopping with it everywhere I go from today. I tried blogging with it but I could only fill out the Title and Tag line and not the post line. Hmm. It would have been perfect otherwise.

 My PC’s falling apart and it’s about time for a new one. In fact, it’s about time for a new everything. So c’mon 2008!

 There is the love you feel when chicken soup is cooked especially for you when you’re under the weather, the love you receive from your lover from the cheque with multiple zeros that he wrote out to you and slide under your pillow before jetting off to Milan, the love you create by stroking yourself and reaching climax. Then there is the love that makes you want and smile and excited that comes in the form of a pair of well-crafted shoes.

If it isn’t obvious by now, I have a thing for shoes. Beautiful, sharp, go-fuck-yourself shoes. So it’s only apt that my Christmas gift to myself would be a pair of drool worthy footwear. I’ve been searching for the perfect pair to present myself for about a week or so now and I only made actual progress yesterday.

 I started at Barneys.com and soon found myself thrilled by this pair of Lanvin Patent Derby. Laser cut with a black sheen; I knew this could just be it. And it was on sale too! But alas, there weren’t none left in my size. I stared and analysed it for a couple of minutes and called it a night.

 I came home from the club tonight and started the hunt again. This time, I hit the jackpot but not without a few misses.

 This pair of Dolce & Gabanna Metallic Fabric Oxford Shoes were just what I wanted. It was sharp, metallic and would warrant attention when worn to town. I like patent, sheen and dark colours. And this pair checked every box. But like the Lanvin pair, it was out of my size.

 I found another pair of pointed-toes Dolce & Gabanna’s. I added it to my list and removed it on second thought because it was simply too plain and a tad dull. But I did dig the sharpness of it.

 Then came the next two items in my cart and I spent 20 minutes self debating about whether to simple just purchase them because they were both exquisite. This pair of Dolce & Gabanna Black Python Loafers made me stop in my virtual tracks. It was stylish and put together and exotic. The thing was, I wasn’t so sure that it was very me and it did look like it would add 10 years to my profile. It was tough but I decided to look for something that didn’t make me think twice. 

 I was beaming when I found this pair of Prada Black Perforated Leather Dress Loafers. This was the one I would be whipping out my credit card for. It was sleek and dressy and sophisticated. It also looked like a classic and would look stylish dressed up or down. So Merry Christmas to me!

 I’m on the fence for this pair of Dolce & Gabanna Black Stamped Leather Oxfords. They have my size in stock and I like the woven illusion detail and the lace up design. It would be an immediate purchase if the tip had been a little sharper. So I’m still sitting on this one.

Now the hunt starts again for my Birthday present….

 I found out yesterday that the dry-cleaing lady I patronise is a Falun Gong member. It explained the constant tirade of questions about my frequent trips to the US and a non-stop monologue of how I should head down to Manhattan on Christmas to watch a dance competition and how ‘beneficial’ it would be for me. I thought it was a little strange but I brushed it off till yesterday when I got a complementary Falun Dafa 2008 wallet calendar from said dry-cleaner that it all made sense. She started lecturing me on how I really should go get a seat at the dance event and engage myself in the wondrous momentous affair. After this batch of clothes get dry-cleaned, I won’t be going back to her. It’s one thing to share with me your beliefs and another to rub my face in them when all I really want is my receipt and my clothes cleaned on time.

I did a search on Wikipedia and this paragraph caught my eye: “In May 1998, Li Hongzhi (the individual responsible for introducing Falun Gong to the public) made statements condemning homosexuality. He stated that homosexuality was “dark state of mind”, and suggested that homosexuality was incompatible with cultivation. However, homosexuals can practice Falun Gong if they “correct this bad behavior.”

 Another reason to not support her business. Maybe I should tell her I sleep with men for fun when I pick up my clothes next week and watch her sacrosanct reaction.

 I seem to repeat my mistakes as often as I change my Calvin Kleins. I had a new shirt that I wanted shrunk because I like my clothes to fit snugly. So what did I do? I dry-cleaned it, knowing fully that it wouldn’t shrink my shirt like water and a spin in the dryer would. I was even asked if I just wanted to wash and starch the shirt. I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep pulling shit like that and then 24 hours later, I get hit with this wave of regret.

 Why do I always have to learn things the hard way?

 So I arrived back in Singapore yesterday afternoon after spending 2 nights in Bangkok. I’m back at square one; waiting, hoping, counting down. I’m still working on being good at waiting. It seems like I have been doing nothing but wait. It’s becoming my new job.

  Hit downtown with Bryan today with a bout of consumerism. I came home with the last Christmas present on my list, a sweater and a shirt from Calvin Klein, a shirt and polo from DKNY and that elusive day bag I have been hunting all over for (I finally found one nonchalantly displayed that bore a semblance to what I had in mind) at Armani Exchange. It’s black, distressed leather with a hobo structure and adjustable shoulder strap that I wouldn’t feel bad being hard on and tossing around (I’m known to push my things to their damaged point) because it’s only $399. I had no luck with my hunt for a pair or two of black jeans. I’ll make a trip to Prada one of these days to see if they have any in my size in stock since I know they make black ones for men. Neither did I have any luck with finding another pair of shoes to gift myself; for Christmas. Nothing at Giorgio Armani, Calvin Klein, Dolce & Gabbana, DKNY, Paul Smith, Balenciaga, Bottega Venetta. The hunt goes on.

 So does the craving for young, libido satisfying sex. Like jack rabbit, fucking-to-oblivion sex. Oh the irony.

 I’m going to warp presents and de-clutter my room and clear my wardrobe and throw stuff out. I get much pleasure from throwing stuff out. I hate junk and I hate dust collectors. So anything I haven’t worn or used in 6 months goes. Out with old, in with the new; I say!

 The common question everyone’s been asking since I arrived in Singapore is, ‘So when are you flying off again?’. With barely 36 hours to check up on mail, pay bills, decide the clothes to give away to make way for new ones, make appointments, visit the dry cleaners, de-clutter the bedroom; I hopped on a plane and am now in Bangkok. Tying up loose ends and getting out of this standstill quagmire.

 I’m looking forward to staying in one place come 2008 for a bit. Rest my feet and work on the other aspects of my life that I’ve placed on the shelf. To take a break from this nomadic, living-out-of-a-suitcase lifestyle I’ve lead these past 2 years. But of course, I don’t think I’ll stay still for long but whatever may be, I’ll always have the weekends to accumulate mileage points.

 There’s no one here but me. No one to take out food, make trips to the supermarket, visit the dry-cleaners, arrange for cleaning services, buy pints of Haagen Dazs. I thought about it as I lugged 7 1L bottles of mineral water back to the apartment and again when I filled up a whole cart with food and essentials to last the next 10 or so days. Thank goodness the supermarket had personal helpers to assist in loading the taxi. I’ll get through this, one day, I’ll look back on this dark period and it would all be only a memory. Come tomorrow and the tomorrows after that.

 I’ll soldier through this; after all, a boy’s gotta do what a boy’s gotta do.

 Aaron was presented with 2 tickets to San Diego to thank him for the good work done and for going the extra mile. Aaron opened the envelope in front of me and the beam on his face to the slight flush of his cheeks were priceless. After receiving word that his road accident last week will cost $4000 to fix, which is twice the cost of his car. We were standing in the pantry during lunch discussing the various options he had. All he needs is a working car to get from home to work. It could be ugly and beaten up and he could care less. His wife has the nice Volvo and that would cover them during the weekends or when friends are in town. This couldn’t come at a better time.

 ”It’s like you try hard to save $5 here and $10 there week after week and month after month and then something like this happens and you realise that it’s all going to be wiped out with one purchase.” He lamented while waiting for his bread to toast.

 ”Yeah and it’s like you have margarine instead of butter!” I continued.

 ”Exactly!” He said.

 A few weeks ago, Aaron and I had this conversation about butter and margarine. He said he’s always preferred butter but margarine was cheaper so he’s having margarine with his daily lunch sandwich instead of butter. I asked if there was a wide difference between the prices of the two products. He said a tub of butter was about $3 plus or so and a tub of margarine was only 79 cents at Fred Mayer.

 That lead to think about 20-something guys. Men 2 years or so fresh out of college, scrimping and cutting back in order to be able to set aside portions of their pay cheque. The ones blessed with enough sense to save for a rainy day. The ones that take in account every meal eaten out, the ones that compare prices of toothpaste, the ones that pick margarine over butter. I thought about them and their lifestyles and then about the men I date. The financially stable ones with investments accounts, property, mileage status and spare change. And if I could actually be fulfilled with an individual that is taking baby steps towards securing his financial future. Anyone who thinks money doesn’t play a role in the equation is delusional; unless there is a trust fund guaranteeing and providing the possibility to do whatever one pleases in one’s name. Everything in general society is fueled by the desire for more. Which is why people get educated in the first place; so they don’t find themselves working for minimal wage the rest of their lives. One cannot live on love alone. I’m not talking about excess; I’m talking about having enough so that it’s not the one thing that is causing sleepless nights or the factor that hinders the paths (be it professionally, emotionally, religiously etc) one so desires to walk. It’s as simple as that.

 At the end of the day, despite my being used to a certain way of life, if I met someone like Aaron; someone kind, grounded, spontaneous, witty, oblivious to how physically attractive he is, loyal with intrinsic values, someone worth the compromises and sacrifices, then yes, I would be able to dive in with both feet.

 I’m glad the tickets for him and his wife made him feel that things were starting to look up. I guess I should stop feeling this beaten down by the events that have taken place in the course of the last 2 months. After all, shit happens to everyone; even good people.

 I was replying to an email today after my shower when I noticed that my arm was glistering. At first I thought I had brushed onto some glittery surface or something but that was impossible because I was writing in bed the whole time. I then realised that my whole body was glistering. My arms to my legs to my belly were filled with tiny specks of sparkling bits from the Olay Body Wash plus Radiance Ribbons! I discovered this product through a commercial while watching Jay Leno in San Diego and I’ve bought it a couple of times; only because I liked the idea that it could make my skin glow and sparkle. I’ve always thought it was just pure marketing bullshit but that didn’t stop me from buying it at the store 2 days ago. Jim and I went to the store and I had told him that we were out of shower gel and he immediately took the green bottle (Olay has a couple of other variations of this range of shower gel). I asked how he knew which one I wanted. He said I was a ‘total consumer’ and it was pretty obvious. If I like something, I stick to it till I find something better.

 I guess I never really noticed my skin the previous times I have used this shower gel but I’m completely sold! I’m going to buy a few bottles this weekend at the store before I leave since it’s not available in Singapore. It was completely distracting, I was having a conversation over dinner and I couldn’t stop staring at my sparkly arms. Even Jim was amazed at how his hairy arms shimmered!

 It contains glucosamine complex formulated with N-acetyl glucosamine and luminous brighteners. Interference pigments found in the formula help improve the skin’s ability to reflect light for glowing, great looking skin. So if you want a shower gel that will make you scientifically more lustrous and effulgent, do check this one out!

 I received an invitation to the Ralph Lauren private sale today in the mail. Guess I’ve spend enough money at Ralph Lauren this year to warrant an invite. It would be a fun thing to go check out; the only thing is there are no Ralph Lauren stores in Seattle. At least not a flagship one. I can’t wait to move to Los Angeles. The invite also came with a 40% discount code that I could use at the online store. It’s time to go plan my Christmas list and do my Christmas shopping. I won’t have the time otherwise to do it.

 My messy but planned schedule has yet again been disrupted. I got word that my paper has been postponed for 14 days and now I’m desperately scrambling to piece everything I need to accomplish by year end into a breakneck span of 3 weels. Squeeze lessons, tests, papers, appointments, a trip to Bangkok, Christmas shopping and a trip back to Seattle late December. Bill asked me over dinner if I was staying in Seattle a little while longer since I now could. I told him I wasn’t and he expressed his disappointment. I’m looking forward to be back in Singapore, I’ve haven’t been around much these past 2 years and it’s funny how everyone treats me like I’m just visiting everytime I’m back in the island.

 I am counting down the days till this nightmare is over. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s just me and that I’m bound to always have to walk the difficult road. It does seem like everytime I get something done and over with, something else blows up in my face and I’m on the floor struggling with damage control. I want to be out of this tunnel pronto. I want to be able to sleep again. I want to have something to live for; albeit however overrated it may be.

 It’s time to go make ginger cosmos; I could really use a drink or two or more.

 I am a little pissed at myself for ignoring that little familiar voice once again. That tiny voice of reasoning and prudence that pops up more than occasionally when I am in the midst of making a decision. I chose to heed the advice of my financial relations manager instead of that oh-so-familiar voice a couple of weeks ago when faced with the decision of pumping more money into my Chinese Equity Fund. She said to wait as the price was a little too high. I’ve never been a fan of waiting. If I want something, I want it now and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of that. That little voice was telling me to just pump in more and let it rise more and sleep better knowing I’m making a bit more money. I shut out the voice and I made the decision to wait. Guess what? Now the fund has risen more than 20%! On one hand, this means great news because that means my investments are paying off and on the other, it just means I could have made more! This is what I get for not listening to my gut. Lesson learned. Arg.

 The US dollar is plummeting. It’s such a shame since I get cheques in USD. We went out for dinner last night and I picked the tab and paid in cash. I don’t do that much; pay in cash. But the USD is so low, it just makes much more sense. Even my favourite supermodel is insisting she gets paid in currencies other that the USD. Gisele Bundchen has demanded to be paid in Euros for her new Pantene contract. Smart girl.

 I just hope by the time I need to convert my green cash into Singapore dollars, the USD would have risen to a more acceptable level. If not, I’ll probably find myself stashing my USDs under my mattress waiting for a more bullish rate. How immigrant of me, I know.

 With all that is happening with the market right now, I’m so glad I have newly taught patience. If there’s one thing this relationship has imparted to me, it’s patience. I’m so much more patient now, it’s commendable. So check my zen-ness out!

 The Hives finally came on stage after a 2.5 hour wait. They were fun, loud, tight, impressive and they were just as I had imagined them to be and more. It was a fantastic show. But it wasn’t worth standing and waiting for 2.5 hours. I don’t see why they can’t just publish the actual time they want to start playing. After finishing their keg of beer, their specially distilled water, their organic rice crackers and an orgasm or whatever rock stars demand for and do. I don’t mind waiting for 30 mins and an hour tops but 2.5 hours is just ridiculous.

  I got a tee and a receipt for the new album that will drop in stores on the 13th. The album came along with a poster that the band will sign after the show. I was standing in line, waiting to get my poster autographed. 10 mins passed, then another 10 mins went by. Jim went out of the line to stretch and got to talking to one of the bouncers. He was told that the band will take longer than what everyone’s expecting. They’re backstage showering, drinking beers and chilling out. They’ll only come out when they’re ready to. I said fuck it and we left. I should have passed my poster on to someone else would would wait for them or someone who wanted their scribbles more than I did.

 They’re one of my favourite bands and I’ve been a fan of theirs since their indie days. But I think they need to treat their fans better. After all, it’s the fans who make garage musicians rock stars and garner cute, adorable lead singers cult status. So what gives?  

  17 kids showed up at the door for Trick or Treating tonight. I did a great job with my pumpkin. It had a straight symmetric arrow-pointing-up nose and looked menacing enough. If I were to come back in my next life, I want to come back being equipped to be a top-notch plastic surgeon or a dermatologist. I know I will make a kick-ass dermatologist. But I digress. We were very generous with the candy and exhausted 5 bags of them. We had the good candy and variety too. I felt bad for the 3 little Batmans that showed up at the door and answered a ”YES!” in unison when I asked them if they’ve knocked on many other doors before ours. They only had 4 tiny pieces of breath mints to show for. So I grabbed two handfuls of candy for each boy from my Halloween bowl and felt great when I saw their beaming faces. I guess they were lucky that I am used to handling big things and so 2 full handfuls of candy amounted to a pretty big haul.   

 There’s a possibility I might need to shelf my year-end holidays plans to Australia and New Zealand and postpone them to make way for a trip back to The States. I need to make sure that all the EQM (Elite Qualifying Miles) I have acquired these past 6 months or so do not come to naught end of this calendar year. The Elite mileage slate for promotion to a higher Elite level will be wiped off clean come January and I refuse to let that happen without being promoted to the highest possible level. I’m just a couple of thousand of miles off. A trip back to The States will do the trick. I know the opportunity scale is weighing in favour of spending Christmas in New Zealand, my birthday and New Year’s in Sydney and Melbourne instead of the said three events in an undecided state in America. But I also know that I will welcome the new year feeling good about reaching the top of the mileage ladder in 6 months which in turn would make flying in 2008 even more nifty!

 I was feeling kinda down about the physical state I am currently in and so I decided to let my fingers do a bit of shopping. I stumbled on this YSL Muse bracelet and it was in my shopping cart 3 seconds later. Now, I don’t wear jewellery and am not a big accessories type-of-guy. A watch is my usual choice of armour. This is an exception given the fact that this classic bracelet is adjustable which means the flexibility to wear it anyway and anywhere I want. And I have just the shirts to pair it with. For some reason, my order couldn’t be processed. It turns out that it was out of stock. Thankfully, I had 2 items in my shopping cart. The bracelet and the YSL Muse Credit Card Case in Metallic Silver. I’ve been meaning to get a credit card case for the jeans that have pockets that run a little too small for my everyday wallet. Perfect timing. I also received an email informing me that my 20% discount code for an online store I frequent occasionally will expire after midnight today. I wasn’t even aware I had a 20% discount code! That just opened up an incentive to purchase another pair of  jeans. Really perfect timing, I say.

  Coupled with the sleepless nights, the incessant thoughts that bug me throughout the entire day and Xanax not working as well as it used to, I’m in need for some bigger treats. Where’s the candy-man when you need him? 

 I was doing some general surveying on this little space of mine when I realised that this person; jennifersaylor, is claiming credit for the latest blog entry that I just wrote a few hours ago.

 I don’t know what site this is: http://halloween.xx7h.com/2007/10/28/take-your-ring-off/#comment-3 but it looks like a daily collection of posts gathered from various sources. According to the website, jennifersaylor wrote the entry, Take Your Ring Off and when you click on her name, it directs you to this blog. I don’t know what the story is. But I know she sure as hell didn’t write that.

  Some bitch is claiming credit for my writing; I must be doing something right.

 Brian’s in town. The incredibly sexy, gorgeous, heterosexual, married father of 3 who became a work colleague and a fast friend with Jim in Cologne 10 years or so ago. I met Brian last December in Cologne and I don’t think I made much of an impression. I was a little under the weather and didn’t have much to say while Brian; being the great Chatty-Betty he is, talked for most of the evening. Here it was: This intelligent, attractive, effectively bilingual individual who talked as much as I do on a good day; stuck in a frustrating, pressure-cooker of a marriage with a bitch of a wife who is detested by her in-laws. Apparently she didn’t start out a bitch. She was the usual German socialite with a huge trust fund; with charming, interesting parents. But everything flew out the window the second she got pregnant. Brian found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. This catch 22 of a life and you would think someone would wise up and avoid sinking deeper into the quicksand. Not him, instead, he ended up with 2 more kids, effectively eliminating all possibly hopes of ever seeing his kids again if he were to ever ask for a divorce. A wealthy socialite with influential parents will drag the divorce proceedings to no end which will eventually render his finances bone-dry. Not a smart solution which explains why he’s still married to her. He handed us a joint after that evening. It made me crack up. There’s nothing like plain old fashioned great Maryjane to help with your troubles.

 What ever happened to good ole birth control? Has it become obsolete? It really is quite effective in preventing you from being corned in a situation where you might have to pay for that one orgasm the rest of your life. How worth it is that? So really, birth control anyone?

  If Brian comes over to the house for dinner tonight, I know I’ll be constantly looking his way. And drinking lots, of course. It’s not everyday that you have someone who makes your heart skip a beat. There are the attractive guys with top-notch personal and professional resumes and then there are the guys that make your heart skip a beat. It does help a little that all 4 of us in the house would probably not think twice about doing him. I know I would do him. Over and over again. After he takes off his ring. He did experiment once in college; he said it wasn’t good and it made him think that sleeping with men wasn’t his cup of tea. It’s such a complete waste that he had a bad first time. But I know I can totally show him how’s it’s really done. If only he knew he was such a cock tease (which makes him so much more attractive because he’s completely oblivious to just how delicious he is), I bet he would realise he could get so much more out of life.

 Gotta carve the pumpkins later today. Halloween this year should be fun.

 I absolutely love online shopping in America. Actually, shopping in general in America is pretty darn great. I sidetracked from all the denim viewing and was looking at a pretty cool tee from Saint Augustine Academy that unfortunately didn’t have my size in stock. I was about to leave the page when a small window appeared asking if I needed help with sizing. The next thing I knew, I was chatting live with a customer service representative who proceeded to inform me that that particular tee ran small and I could return it in 30 days if it didn’t fit. I knew it wasn’t going to fit but it was still valuable information because I ended up purchasing a Comme Des Garcons shirt that I could return or change for a another size if it didn’t fit. I was impressed.

 The other thing I love about shopping in America, is the amazing return/exchange policy. Walk into most any major stores and if the shirt or pants or shoes that you bought 7 months ago didn’t fit and if you lost the receipt, you can still get your money back or get a new size. I understand that America has a large enough economy to fully support that. Not every economy can afford to sustain such policies. But such exchange policies would guarantee brand/store loyalty that would lead to profit and growth despite of all the exchanges; however honest or shady they may be. You can even return your finished meal and bitch about the lack of flavour or heat and you will probably get that meal on the house. Of course, it reflects on you as individual but the fact that you can actually do that says alot about this wonderful service-oriented business mindset.

 I was going about my hunt for the perfect rockin pair of black jeans and I realised just how sparse the availability of black premium denim. The ones that I found were either too loud or too big or just bargain bin fodder. I did eventually find a pair of Citizens of Humanity Straight Leg Oslo Black ones that are sitting in my online cart. I’m not sure if I really want them as much as the idea of a pair of black jeans. I’m still waiting to see what else I can unearth in the next few hours here in the office; in the comforts of my own booth.

 That’s the thing I love about online shopping. You can buy your next pair of overpriced jeans wherever you may be. Even when you’re doing a Number 2.

 I got 2 pumpkins today at the supermarket. Spent 15 minutes picking out the roundest, smoothest, un-blemished two. They shall be carved for Halloween and displayed on the front lawn and porch. After candy-shopping, cellophane paper and candles, the house will be ready for trick or treating when the day/night arrives. We talked about costumes over dinner. Ideas were tossed around; Peter Pan, Captain Hook, Ghouls etc. The usual cliches. Then Jeremy made some snide comment to Bill about going as a suicide bomber. I burst out laughing and said I would go as one too. But I’ll go costumed in a burka with fake dynamite and explosives strapped to my fake breasts. Jim and Bill roared as they heard this and it was then decided that if we were to dress up, we would go as a posse of covered-up, sexually ambiguous suicide bombers. I wish I hadn’t left my camera in Singapore.

  I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. I guess the point when you stop giving a damn about holding yourself back is the juncture when you realise that it’s not so appealing after all once you get there.

 There are frozen yogurt stores popping up everywhere. I’ve always wanted my own frozen yogurt machine either on my tour-bus or in my wired, designer kitchen. A store would be totally feasible too. I would cater to salon tanning-yoga loving-catalog shopping-resort hopping individuals who lunch. The suckers like me who would spend $14 everyday on frozen yogurt. I reckon that would be a fun way to make a decent chunk of change.   

 I’ll be in Seattle for 6 weeks. If you had asked me 21 days ago, I would have reticence on my forehead and second thoughts about going back. Now, it’s a source of a bit of relief. I need to submerge myself for a bit and only come up for air when I want to. I need to surround myself with unknowns and unfamilarity and wet weather. It’s funny how life is always 2 steps ahead of you and seems unabashedly willing to constantly rub your face in the fact that it knows better than you what you need and the road that lies ahead.

 It had dawned upon me a couple of days ago on the flight back from Bangkok, just how if I were to die tomorrow, I would die happy because I would pass with the knowledge that I would have lived my life. I’m never again going to justify the choices I have made and the sacrifices that had to be made as a result of these choices. If there ever comes a day in the future when consequences arise because of these choices, then that will be the bed I have made and the cross that I’d have to bear and I will. I will lie in that bed and bear that cross. I won’t have gotten to this point in my life if I didn’t know what I wanted or where I was heading. I’m so over explaining this all.

 I just realised I left my umbrella in the cab and I am so kicking myself in the balls now. I can’t believe how the one time I didn’t take a second glance before shutting the cab door would be the one time I lost something that meant much to me. I could lose any umbrella but this one was my FCUK RAIN umbrella and I had got the last one that had been sitting at the back of the flagship store in London for seasons and maybe years. It was meant to be mine and now it’s gone because of my sheer carelessness. Arg. Fuck fuck fuck!

 I met Mike at the iSHOP store today. I finally got my 16GB Ipod Touch. Then after, it was to the Dolce & Gabanna boutique at the Hilton to look for that feel-better-already pair of patent shoes. I initially thought they didn’t have them because they weren’t in the store so I asked if I could order them from a catalog. Turns out, they did have them; they weren’t in my usual size but they fitted well and they were so mine. I got a letter from Club 21 basically telling me how I haven’t been spending any money in their stores in a while; having been out of Singapore most of the year. So any purchase from any Club 21 store in the month of October will get me a food and beverage voucher from The Hilton. Perfect timing. Today’s purchases should get me another year of membership and some vouchers for tea.

 I’ve been meaning to get my hands on a set of Nintendo Ds Lite ever since the flight back from the States when it hit me that I have tried every single dish on the Business Class menu and watched every single movie available on the entertainment system on-board. So you know you’ve been flying a lot when all that is left to do is to pop a Xanax and dose champagne and wait for sleep to knock to pass the time.  A Nintendo Ds will keep me occupied when I’ve finished the new book orders from Amazon and the latest issue of Vogue and The Economist. It shall be my trusty companion for the 10 upcoming flights and the thousands of miles flown. I settled on a black one.

 Met Linda for dinner a few hours ago. She brought up a point that had me thinking when she said how she could settle down with a successful man, have kids, have a career, be a wife and mother and still have problems despite it all. I said that there will always be problems but it’s all a matter of the breed of problems they are. Whether they be short-term or long-term, solvable and dis-solvable or lingering and obvious. I thought about the problems I have right now; the pending new college year, my accident and the following infection and my stationery uncommunicative relationship. They are short-term and solvable and I know just how to deal with them. Imagine if my state of health took a dive for the worst and I had to continue living this life with a disability or if I was struggling and my bank account was bone dry which would take a lot of time to earn enough to have enough. These could be the harvests that I would have to reap and exist with. I’m appreciative of the fact that my pot of problems only contain life’s dumpings that will get flushed and serve as reminders and lessons in time to come.

 Perhaps this is the silver lining I’ve been looking all over for.   

 I’ve been anaesthetised 3 times this week. I’m good with pain and excessive bleeding. I’ve chosen to deal with this setback the best way I can. I still think life is overrated but the more I question and the more shit that gets piled on my plate, the more I wonder if somehow I’m supposed to get something out of this, if I’m being tested. But the thing is, none of that matters because all I needed was to see some light at the end of this tunnel and I did by the way of the serendipitous availability of a time slot that wouldn’t be mine if I hadn’t checked a second time while protesting to the need to find a way round my return date from The States. Maybe this is the flickering of light.

 I got a haircut today and spent the rest of the day looking to blow some cash. It was straight to the Dolce & Gabanna boutique after the haircut. There was a pair of shoes that caught my eye as I walked past the store to the salon. It had my name written all over it. This beautiful sharp dark slate grey patent lace-up made just the way I liked my leather shoes. I asked for a size 41 and was told there was only pair left. The ones on display. But they were size 5 and I am a size 8 when it comes to shoes like these. The sales person asked me if I wanted to try them on. How the hell am I going to fit into a size 5? So I walked out disappointed; it was to be my feel-better present. All is not lost yet, I still have yet to hit the Dolce store in Singapore. That shall be a priority on Sunday.

 I caught my reflection a couple of times today and thought about time. I’ve taken this chuck of bad news pretty calmly. I’m going with looking at this with being granted the opportunity to start fresh. Not everyone gets a second chance and I think it’ll only go up from here. 3.5 months will come and go and along with some good ole patience, I’ll be on track to being even better.

 After all, “Rome was not build in one day.” so said Dr Ar K.

 How true. How true.
 

I can’t do this much longer. How much longer, I am not sure. Jim asked me what was wrong with us a few hours ago. I told him I couldn’t live with him, couldn’t share a space with him and didn’t see a future with him. He said he needed to know what was wrong so he could fix it; I had wanted to say that not everything could be glued back but I didn’t. You can change your bathroom habits, you can start picking up after yourself, you can stop hogging the bandwidth, you can realise that the person you share your bed with gets awoken every bloody morning by your incessant typing and move into the next room.

 He loved the new individual I had moulded him into and he wants me to make him even better. Here it was; an earnest invitation to run every aspect of his life. As tempting as that sounds, I don’t need a pet project. My plate is full and I desperately need a new, clean one. I told him I was done with editing his tracks. I have done nothing but father this relationship and I won’t keep directing the traffic and pointing out where he’s going wrong.

 ’You are a fucking adult!’ I exclaimed.

 He begged for me to give him time to prove me wrong; to provide and hold the platform for him to change the fact that I didn’t see a future with him, to let him try. I held my tongue and said nothing. For once, I didn’t see a need to say anything and I didn’t want to. He took my silence as consent.

 How much longer; I’m not quite sure.

I just pre-ordered Radiohead’s new album, In Rainbows. The only difference this time was that I got to choose the price I wanted to pay to for the official album and come album release day, I get an email with the link and password to start downloading the LP. I think it’s a progressive, modern, smashing idea to deal with the current state of the music industry. And not being tied down to a record company has its own perks. Way to go, Thom Yorke & Co!

I got a call from a Ralph Lauren representative today. They are going to redo my order of customised polo shirts. I called customer service before making my order; enquiring about the fits and explaining the general difficulty I have with sizes in general. I then made my order on the advice of the customer service rep. The customised shirts came and they were way too big. I know that Ralph Lauren doesn’t have a return policy for specially customised polos and I was constantly reminded of that fact when I spoke to another rep. But I knew I was given misguided consumer information and I was not going to stand for it. There’s nothing like alluding to the immediate dialing of American Express and disputing the charges to get my point across.

Ab Fab alum; Jennifer Saunders and Dawn French’s parodies are a hoot! The first one’s on America’s Next Top Model and the second one’s on Bjork.

I’ve noticed that the general traffic flow of this little space are not really aware of the additional posts I have on this blog. I have posted additional bits of writing that I had done 1.5 years ago as a result of a meeting with a publisher.

If you scroll down and look to the right-hand corner of the blog page, you will see a PAGE section under the CATEGORIES section. The articles are individually posted there. Start by reading AS IT IS (SCRAPS) which presents a better insight as to where these writings stem from.

So do let me know what you think. I’m always only just and email, phone-call or comment away.

PS: Thanks Bryan and Jess for the heads-up and encouragement and for pushing me to write again!

I’ve been drinking most my meals these past few days. Chewing’s a bitch right now and even though I miss physically feeling food in my mouth, I kinda want to see where my new diet will take me. It just suddenly occurred to me how there are no junk foods in liquid form (and I don’t mean candy or soft drinks) that you can actually wholly consume. I’ll find ways to put on some weight via this alternative diet of mine. It would be much easier to have a pill for every meal and then when you want some extra pounds, you pop 2 pills. So where is my dinner in pill form? Until then, drinking is the new eating for me.

Aaron just asked me what season it is right now in Singapore; before asking me to pardon his ignorance. He then said he could easily goggle it but it wouldn’t be as much fun. I found that cute. At least he knew where Singapore was on the map. I would have 4 dollars if I had a dollar everytime a Caucasian person asked me if Singapore was in China. And it’s 4 eye-rolling bucks I rather not have. 

Second episode of the second season of Heroes tonight. I wish I was a mutant. A Class 4 one. How geeky, I know.  

I’m at a stagnant, feet-dragging point on this long, long path right now. I struggle with the inability to dig up a deeper meaning to this life and yet, I yearn to rediscover the old drive I used to have. This lack of motivation and purpose consumes me an hour after I get up everyday. There’s nothing to live for and even if there was, everything is ephemeral in its entirety.

So what’s the point? I wonder and I wonder if I can ever get out of this quagmire of unanswered questions because I’ve had enough of going through everyday just for the sake of it.  

Something needs to change; sometimes that’s all you need to go on.

It’s great to be back in California. So far, this weekend in San Francisco has been a pretty productive one. Thanks goodness for the G Star store here; it’s was the one thing I was looking forward to. I only bought 1 pair of jeans while Jim got 3 which makes him a pretty happy camper knowing for a fact that stores actually do carry jeans with 36L and proving my point that premium denim’s worth selling your Microsoft stocks for.

A week ago, he was all excited about how GAP had jeans in gunmetal wash and how they were inexpensive and long enough. Yeah and they’re also dispensable and won’t give you the mileage you think you would get. I warned him, I told him online catalogue’s are not as they seem. Given how lighting and photoshop can make an ordinary pair of jeans look desirable. I’ve been down that road and I know. He obviously didn’t heed my tried and true advice and ordered 2 pairs. I’m like seriously? So the jeans arrived and everything was wrong with them; huge and baggy with enough room to squeeze 3 sweatshirt factory kids. He returned them; not before complaining about how un-wearable they were every single time he saw them in the back seat. Well, I’ve said my piece.

I found out today that the IPOD Touch is already being sold at the Apple stores. And of course, the 16GB ones are all sold out. I should have checked before I left Seattle; I could have had bought one before I left. Darn it. At least I got another pair of in-ear headphones.  

The one thing I forgot about was how many crazy people there were on the streets. We had lunch at Dotties this afternoon; this great little busy place famous for its breakfast and pastry. There was this black lady who probably hasn’t showered in 3 months trying to get into the café and then immediately got thrown out who then started on her own personal rampage to touch and bug every individual in line to spare her some change and let her dine with them. After reaching the end of the line, she continued to walk on about 100 metres away and then pulled down her torn sweatpants flashing her ass and her crack down the block. I thought about capturing it down somewhere but then I wanted to spare everyone the agony of that particular sight; besides where else am I going to put it up besides the internet? These people make me uncomfortable because there’s nothing you can do about them. And it’s the nothingness about the situation that makes me feel useless and helpless. That means having no choice but to deal with the problem but how can you deal with a problem if there is nothing you can fucking do about it?

I’m fine and all if they leave me alone but I have a problem when they start coming close and touching me. It makes me sad to see people begging and I don’t believe anyone needs to kneel to a complete stranger and beg for spare change. I’d like to think that the economy we have is big enough for all the stooping down to cease. There are fast food outlets and cleaning companies; places where one could make enough to be nourished. I thought about Singapore and how it would be good to be back. I miss how I don’t have to deal with worrying about mentally challenged people laying their hands on me. I miss not having to show an ID when I order a drink. You’re old enough to die for your country but you’re too young to buy a beer? Give me a break. 

It’s time for bed. Got to hit the gym tomorrow and then lunch at Emporio Armani.

 I’ve been breeding so much negativity these days that it’s hard to know the difference. I have a problem with everything. From the way I look, to my thick puffy head of hair, to the weather, to the people I live with, to the people I work with, to the immigrants I seem to see everywhere I go, to their accents and the way words spew from their mouths, to the person I am and the individual I drag out of bed every morning. I’ve started to question the value of things that I used to hold so dear. Now everything pales in comparison to just the chance of going back to college and completing my education. This is what my life is on the line for; I need to pass this one module. I’m terribly afraid of what the outcome might be. Fearful of the letter that will spell out the next step in my life. I have to believe that I will pass and make it but there are always doubts. I’m frightened of the alternative because I don’t know if it will be worth continuing this life for.

 I’ve never expected myself to be at this juncture. I’ve always mocked the ones who end their lives; the ones who throw the future out because of a stalwart in their present. I now understand why they did what they did. They didn’t have anything else to live for. Everything amounts to nothing the moment you die; it might as well be now. I’m freaking out at the thought of not making through this because I don’t know just what I would do. I know the helplessness will devour me and I will implode from the thought of how the future might be. I know I don’t have the balls to kill myself and I’m tired of dragging myself around day after day. I’m swinging on this pendulum; back and forth between this rock and this hard place. I’m on an airplane and I secretly wish that it would crash and my death would be instant. Then I take that back because the other passengers still have lives they want to live and a plane crash with just me dying wouldn’t be too realistic. If I did leave this world pre-maturely, I want to leave this world without anyone else getting hurt. Going in my sleep would be the best thing. I go to bed most night these days and I think about not having to worry about waking up.

 I see the person I am becoming now and it tears me up. I have become so anti-social that I wouldn’t speak to anyone unless I really needed to. I don’t want to know anyone new unless they would be the one I would spent a huge chunk of my life with; which of course, is never the case. I dread going through the cycle of living. I smile to mask the thought of killing myself. I don’t get excited by anything. I share my life with apathy and nothing matters anymore. I still think about the future though. I think about how I need to get my hair cut before Saturday’s pool party, I think about spending my life with someone my heart beat faster for, I think about the clothes to give away to make room for the new ones I will acquire, I go to the gym at least 5 times a week so I can look better in those new clothes, I think about the conversations I will have with my closest friends and family, I think about the life I want right now in LA. I think of these and then when I catch myself indulging, I stop and I pray. I pray to just pass this one module. Because I don’t know how to go on or why I should go on if I don’t.

 I wonder just how innately this unwillingness to live has seeped. I wonder how one’s every accomplishment could possibly mean anything at the time of death. I wonder about how grossly unfair it is that no one gets the chance to say no to having a life but when you have one; you’re supposed to live it the best you can, they always say. Screw that cliché adage, 80% of the people who tell you to live your life the best you can, never do so themselves anyway. So what happens if you didn’t ask for this life and the drive and route it entails? What do you do when you’re given one to live? What do you do when you’ve never ever wanted to make fucking lemonades out of the rotten lemons you’ve been handed?

 I wonder and I wonder. I wonder why in spite of all the swirls that come and go in my head daily, words still can’t flow like they used to. I feel bone-dry; emotionally and intellectually. I stare at the flicker of this word box and I wish that the reason to keep writing would be a simple one; because I can and because I love it. 

  Now, if only the reason for living was just as simple.

I need to define myself. I need to stop living within these walls of structured what-ifs. I need to decide if I still want to live because it’s either I live and live the best fucking possible way or I don’t. I need to stop sinking in quicksand pools in the middle of fences that will get me nowhere.

If I live, and I happen to fail and fall off this swinging pendulum, I need to pick myself up and move on to Plan B. I need to keep sowing and keep trotting on.

If I choose to end this, it’ll be at no expense or inconvenience to the people I love. It would be quick and swift and so long to this overrated thing called life.

So decide and decide soon. Start swimming or start sinking. Pronto.

I don’t understand the notion behind dishwashers. I’ve tried and tried but I just don’t. If you are supposed to rinse each dish before loading them into the dishwasher, why not just simply soap and lather the dishes up while you’re in the midst of rinsing them under warm water? Why spend all the effort rinsing dishes after dinner and loading them in only to have to bend down and unload and put those dishes away? That’s not the worst thing; the worst thing is after all that amount of time and energy spent in going through the rigmarole of dealing with a dishwasher after a meal is realizing that the dishes you expect to be clean after that much arduous labor still have specks of grilled burger patty and brown rice stuck on them and in between them. You would expect a reasonable reaping of your trouble and clean dishes is certainly reasonable but no, dishes that still have leftovers stuck on them need to be washed again.

This means that they take up the space that other plates and cutlery would have if only they have been clean; and that leads to a pile up of dishes in the sink which contributes to the big waste of electricity and water. You never have to wash a plate or a fork a second time if you’re washing it by hand because you will ensure that whatever you’re washing is washed clean. It is just so unproductive and not to mention, unrewarding when you are swearing and rinsing semi-clean dishes for the second time. I can think of so many other more satisfying things I can do with the time I would have saved if I had washed my dishes by hand. I could masturbate for example. I just think it is effort that isn’t warranted.

I’ve been rinsing and loading and unloading the dishwasher and putting dishes away everyday now for the past week. I do that every time I’m in America; because my dear friends don’t believe in washing dishes after they’re done with a meal. Instead, they wished they had a second dishwasher. And as a result, they don’t have the necessary tools to properly wash a mixing bowl by hand. I’ve tried to understand this so-called convenience they preach every time I express my annoyance with their machinery that hums and squirts but I’ve not been proven wrong before.

I just think it’s a ploy by corporate America to instill just another need that every household must have. Because money can be made and given time when individuals get used to a certain routine; albeit how much more effectual the alternative is, what started off as a want would end up a need. What I need tomorrow is a pair of gloves and a 3M scrub sponge. I’ve got a pair of good hands and I intend to use them.

 Keeping this in mind, ‘Do you believe in dishwashers?’ would be a question I would ask the next time I’m on a date. No, would be the answer I want and if everything else is right, could signal potential. After all, I know I would want a man who enjoys using his hands too.

I’ve been humbled and forced into a box with virtually no peep hole for air or light. I know I can’t do this alone and I’m relinquishing the stubborn strings that come with the territory of assuming that things and events, in all their infinity, are in my control. I know that now and I know that this is only the initial portion of my newly baked pie.

I got to thinking about the past and the errors I have made, the holes I have dug, the feelings and emotions that didn’t belong to me that I have tossed aside. I know I’ve got amends to make and people to reach out to. I need to know, for all that it’s worth that I tried my darnest. I thought about reaping what I sow and I wonder if all this that I’m going through is somehow payback for the dirt that I’ve dished and the doors I have slammed. That this karmic train is coming around the same track it went round. And this is the carriage it brings along with it. This is the way I was chosen to be punished.

I thought about Mark. This wonderful, sensitive, kind individual who I knew truly and really loved me. I thought about all he did for me and the dishonesty I dealt him and it stopped me cold in my path. He said in an email dated more than a year ago which I never replied to that he could never forgive me because he could never forgive what he didn’t understand and he will never understand why I did what I did to him. It’s been almost 1.5 years now and I think its time to ask for 10 minutes of his day (not because what we shared was worth only 10 minutes of a 24hrs day but because it a reasonable amount of time to ask someone who 1.5 yrs ago said he can’t forgive you) to ask for him to try/consider the possibility of forgiving me. I need to know that I’ve polished all the floors in my court.

I thought about wonderful friendships lost somewhere along the line. Maybe they weren’t so wonderful after all if I lost them down the slippery, hazy path. But those were good times in my life and I only realised the extent to which I need to try one last time (because believe me, I’ve tried). So many things left unspoken, so many mysteries that hang around in my head. So here’s to old time’s sake.

I hope by making amends, it will somehow lighten this karma payback. I wish not to be punished this way but it seems my whole life right now is waiting for this one outcome. So please I pray, know that I’m truly sorry.

I have begun to concede that I am a failure. I feel like one, think like one and maybe tomorrow, I’ll start to live like one. After yesterday’s fiasco, I wondered if I even have it in me to excel in this continuous treadmill of a world. What made it worst was that I could have avoided being a failure but no, I had to go change my answers. I just had to second guess myself. That’s what failures do, don’t they? They second-guess themselves and their instincts and their gut. There are ubiquitous adages in all forms about believing in yourself and trusting your instincts and following your gut. After all, that’s what successful people do. They just go for it.  Me? I doubted myself and I ended up a failure.

 I am nowhere close to attaining my degree. Everything I’ve done in college the past 6 months was to make up for my lack of interest and the failed modules that that lack of interest garnered me. I have no paper skills to be proud of; no certification or anything that might help actually help put food on my table in the future. I haven’t mastered the guitar and I’m too lazy to even go collect and fix it up so I can actually go for lessons. I haven’t written in months and months and words that used to flow like liquid chocolate now come out contrived and stale. See, even now at this very moment when I’m writing about what a huge failure my life is, I’m at a loss for words. I haven’t started investing and yet, I would have lost money if I had invested in the European Property Securities fund that I picked out weeks ago to be a worthy investment. Isn’t that swell? I do have so much to be proud of.  I’m such a failure I am even incapable of coming up with a new plan for the month since the old plan for July had to be scraped because of my BFF yesterday. That’s right, my BIG FAT FAILURE.

I now wonder about the upcoming days and how to fill them. There will be no such question if I wasn’t such a failure. I’m not only a failure; I’m also a coward and a procrastinator. I don’t even have enough drive to search for my deferment letter and find out just exactly when I have to serve the nation. I don’t even have to balls to want to know when I need to do that. Because the most frightening thing about it all is that when the time comes for me to serve the country sooner than I anticipated (due to a change of plans and the inability to carry out the plans I had for myself) and I haven’t finished college, it will all amount to nothing in the end and I really would be a bloody motherfucking failure. What will I have to show for? The trips I have taken? The people I have met? The lessons learnt? What will that get me? What can I exchange all that for? It will eventually catch up with me and right now, I’m such a coward I’m afraid I will drown when the tide rises. I have nothing that I can buoy with. Nothing I can steer with when the waves approach and when they proceed to swallow me.  

I’m retreating back to the space in that particular moment in Amsterdam when on the caviar of psychedelic mushrooms; I wondered why we all work so hard for when we all amount to nothing when we leave this world. When every emotion felt and every amount of effort put into attainting something more and bigger and better, is ephemeral when you think about it. Because death is the inevitable outcome of this life; no matter your last name or the color of your skin or the size of your bank account or your intellectual capacity or the names in your little black book or the healthiness of your diet everyday. Because we can’t take anything with us when death knocks on that proverbial door. Because we all return to square one when we die. So why bother? Why even move on? Why even try eclipsing when you know it wouldn’t even matter when you’re gone? Why do spent hours fretting about how we look and how much we weigh even when we know we will eventually be nothing but nutrient for greens. Why do we care when people judge and point when in eventuality, it wouldn’t matter because we’ll all end up the same way. Why believe in love when it will hurt more when the people you love die? Why continue to clock in the hours living this life when we know we will never have all the answers to the questions we desperately seek for? Why why why?   

Why you ask if, after writing all that down and still having to live, do I not simply kill myself? Well, I did tell you I was a coward and hence, that naturally comes with the territory but the bigger reason why I’m not hosting a pharm party or jumping off the apartment building is because I am a failure and I know, deep down; despite all my sentiments, that I will still fail at killing myself. Now what could be worst than that?

Music: Wicked World – Osaka Popstar

Greece was a blast. A beautiful blast. Athens was a much needed welcome after Tel Aviv. The Hilton Athens was a great hotel and the view from my balcony was stunning. We had a room overlooking the Acropolis. The bed was the best we had this vacation (more about that later). H&M was our first stop and it was a beacon of hope after the luggage fiasco in Israel (my luggage only arrived on the 3rd day of your stop in Athens, you could imagine my desperate-ness). Did a tour of the Acropolis which was mesmerizing and really cool and so were the various museums. I’ll let the pictures say the rest.

Next stop was Santorini. Party central of all the Greek islands. The tanned, toned, beautiful Greek gods were all out and about. It was beach after beach on rented scooters; the fun thing about Santorini was you didn’t a license to ride/rent a scooter, all you needed was a working credit card. We stayed at this gay resort that Jim picked out. I protested when I heard where we were staying; I’ve never been a fan of the mentality that you had to patronise specific vendors based on your orientation. But reservations had been made and it would be very tough to find alternative accommodation. It was, as I had expected, not a place you would go back a second time. The beds were thin mattresses with springs, and double beds meant two single beds placed side by side, the bathroom was too small to properly function in and the room could do with some fresh paint and new furniture. You would think a gay resort would have the basic essentials taken care of; esthetically and functionally, like beds and bathrooms and crisp sheets. Apparently, this was not one of those resorts. But you know you’re staying at a gay resort when you find facial spritz, body loofah, nail buff and pedicure set specially sealed for you in the bathroom. I was half expecting there to be a travel size bottle of lubricant and limited edition condoms. And you get your face rubbed with the reality that you’re staying at a gay resort when you’re having orange juice in the morning and you hear moans and orgasmic shouts and grunts coming from all around you. Classy, ay?  

Mykonos was a quieter affair. We had a room at the Verdema; part of the Starwood Luxury Collection. It was a great place to chill. We hit the vineyards and did some wine tasting and was told that the Verdema even had its own wine cellar. We were told during the tour around the private compound that there wouldn’t be any annoyance nor nuisances. And true enough, the couple of kids who were vacationing with their parents were extremely well behaved and courteous. They played well with each other and there was no incessant shouting and screaming and crying and the usual you would expect from annoying kids with their even more annoying and inconsiderate parents. It was close to perfection. The beds weren’t as comfortable as the Hilton in Athens but after the gay resort, this was wonderful. We had a problem with a faulty scooter in the middle of nowhere during a trip to town and one of the hotel receptionist happened to be walking home and she saw us struggling with the scooter and she stopped and walked all the other direction to where we were and asked if we needed help. She called the resort and the bike store with her cellphone after which she then accompanied us back to the resort to pick up our new scooter. I was extremely impressed. This was impeccable service; she didn’t need to help us. She could have gone on home and looked the other way but she didn’t and that meant so much to us. We scooter-ed down to town and caught a sunset. We had dinner one night at Mystique, another Starwood Luxury Collection property. The view was spectacular. I was told that I could have any juice I want freshly squeezed. I ordered peach juice and true enough, after 10 minutes of pitting and juice extraction, I had a glass of pure peach juice. I never had a glass of pure peach juice before and it was great. We both commented on how we should have spent 5 nights in Santorini instead of Mykonos. Angelina Jolie stayed at the Verdema when she was filming the first Tomb Raider movie; there was a picture at the reception counter signed by her with a ‘Thank you for taking such good care of me!’ message. I guess if it’s good enough for Angelina Jolie, it’s good enough for me!

We also hit the various islands like Fira and such. I don’t have much to say about them. The pictures will do the rest.

Music: Dani California – Red Hot Chili Peppers

I spent 2 weeks of summer time in Greece and Israel. I was contemplating making individual posts of every one of my holidays but I realised my pictures were divided between my laptop and my desktop and I’m just too lazy to write about trips taken 6 months ago and beyond.

I had to fly El-Al Israel Airlines because all the business class seats in the other major airlines that had connecting flights to Athens were taken up. It was summer after all and we only decided on Greece and Israel at the very last minute. El-Al Air is considered the safest airline in the world and now I know why. I’ve heard stories about the interrogation routines but I’ve always thought it would be akin to the interrogation you faced at any major airport in America. It was far worst than that.

I arrived at the airport 2.5 hours before my flight to Tel-Aviv where Jim and I faced our first round of interrogation before I was allowed to even check in. Questions like, “Why are you going to Israel?”, “Why did you decide to fly El-Al Air?”, “How long will you be staying in Israel and what will you be doing there?”, “Why are you flying out of Bangkok and not Singapore?”, “What is your relationship with each other?”, “How long have you guys been together?” flew out one after another. After 20 mins, I was finally allowed to check in.

After hanging out at the lounge for about an hour or so, we proceeded to the gate where there was another interrogation stand. I tried to be friendly, “Shalom!” I greeted the officer. It was the only Jewish word I knew besides the name for the sweet liquor they serve after a meal. “Shalom” he greeted me back without even smiling. He then looked at my passport and called on one of his colleagues who then showed me the way to a small room where my hand luggage was X-rayed, my shoes were scanned for hidden explosives and my wallet and belt were examined for hidden weapons. After 30 mins, I was given the green light to board the plane after being escorted by a cute, totally do-able Jewish security officer. I then found out that Jim’s hand luggage was emptied and searched just because he was waiting for me.

The flight to Israel was enjoyable, we didn’t know what to expect but we were pleasantly surprised. They didn’t have individual viewing screens; only communal ones which was a downer because that’s why you fly business class in the first place; to be able to watch the movies I want to watch. I entertained myself by guessing how many plain clothes security officers there were and wagered with Jim. It was after all, the safest airline in the world.

10 hours 35 mins later, we were in Israel. The airport was clean and maintained which was the walk through pleasant. Passport security was another story. I was told to smile like my passport photo 3 times by the chick behind the desk. Apparently, they think at 19, I’m supposed to look like how I looked when I was 9. They didn’t believe the passport was mine. So I sat in another waiting room with 6 Thai immigrant labourers and waited for another 20 minutes while they disected my passport and verified that I was genuinely valid and that it really belonged to me. I was then handed an exit pass at which time, I thought I was free to go. But no, the immigration chick had to check my passport validity again.

The drama was far from over. When I got to baggage claim, I found out that my luggage was still in Bangkok. Apparently, my baggage was held up because of security reasons which translated to me being a security threat. Me, a security threat? The only thing I kill are rodents and household pests and I have absolutely don’t have a death wish where it involved me being disfigured and plus, I’m too pretty to be blowing myself up. This lady from New Zeland who was also in the security forensics room with me in Bangkok also discovered her luggage didn’t make the flight. But she was staying in Israel for 6 days while I was merely laying over for 1 night while I waited for my flight to Greece. She would get her luggage in 24 hrs while I had to change my travel plans. Swell, just swell.

The lady was also told that she could buy some clothes and necessities to tide her over and keep the receipts and charge it to El-Al. She had a budget of $75USD. She was in coach and there was a different budget for business class passengers but I didn’t even want to know what it was because from the looks of it, it wouldn’t even cover the cost of 1 pair of my jeans. 

I totally understand the rigorous and intensive security routine but to make your passenger wait for more than 1.5 hours while you X-Rayed out his luggage, tested the validity of his passport, took his fingerprints and scanned his personal belongings; only to tell him that it was all for nothing and he needs to change his travel plans because his colleagues fucked up. Just great.

I hope through this, I’m somehow atoning for my misdeeds and bad karma makes way for good ones. I have after all, already paid enough dues in 14 hours.

Israel’s an interesting country; full of religious history and strife which is sad because you can feel the paranoia in the air and amongst its people. Every civilian is part of the army and you can teenage boys and girls decked out in their military gear in the malls and cafes and everywhere you go. The Sheraton Tel Aviv was a rip-off. The rooms needed major care and the elevators needed oil and the bathrooms needed to be replaced along with the beds and tv. They were undergoing major renovation works which could explain something. Jim was charged $100USD for a couple hours of dial-up Internet usage which made it all the more worst. On our way back to Bangkok, we made our way to the old city of Jerusalem where we saw the tomb and the caves and Eastern Wall and the Wall of Sorrow aka as the mourning wall. It was the wall constantly featured on CNN. After the tour and some pictures, it was time to head back to the airport. We decided to take a bus because the taxi driver was trying to rip us off. There was a bus that according to the ticketing lady went directly to the airport. After what seemed like 25 minutes on the bus, we asked the people on the bus if we were heading to the airport. We were told that we had already missed the airport stop which was funny because we had both been looking out for the airport and didn’t see it, that was when we were told that the bus stopped around the corner of the airport and you had to walk some to get to the airport. We alighted immediately only to be greeted by barren land and dried up grass and personal security walls in which teenagers with machine guns stood guard. We tried asking for directions but no one paid us any attention and we were miles and miles away from any shops or stores where we could go ask for a cab. It was a terrible time and we must have looked completely out of placed; this 6’5 American with this 5’8 Asian and his pack of crackers and bottle of water. After 15 minutes (which seemed like an eternity), a cab came along and we were in no position to bargain this time.

Leaving Israel was another hoot. Questions after questions of our relationship were tossed one after another. “How long have you guys been together?”, “How often do you see each other?”, “How did you meet?”, “How much time do you spent together?”, “Why are you not living together?”, “Why are you living in separate countries?”. I was completely ready for them to ask how often we had sex. It did seemed like all the questions would lead to that. These were questions that I used to ask myself, except this time, it wasn’t for my emotional sanity, it was to prove I didn’t have razors hidden in my snatch.

After all that, we found out there was a spa above the lounge and we had complimentary spa treatments to choose from. A Swedish message and a warm shower later, I was ready to go back to Singapore. A place no one would question my authenticity.

I’ve been writing sporadically but I’ve never posted anything until now. I wrote this in January this year (I finally found the time stamp option on Word Press) and it reflected my state of mind then. I’ve definitely been cheering for a different team these days; probably for the cynical, pessimistic, occasionally suicidal squad. The reason why I’m posting old entries, if anything, is to keep track of my progress and my stream of consciousness. And also to provide the constant opportunity to laugh at myself, of course.  

 I have been absent for a while. A long while, actually. I can’t really point to where I’ve stored little thoughts, frustrations and queries these past 11 months. I’ve been meaning to write; constantly edging myself to gather and take a breath and just start. But there were always the I-don’t-have-time-to-sit-vacillate-and-write excuses and having the reasons for writing completely vaporize the next day. All is well now, I seem to always say to myself; no need to do pages on the wrongs with the swirls in your life. But I can never confess the real reason why I’ve stopped this form of expression. I’m afraid I’ll never been good enough. I’m afraid all my efforts will come to naught and so what’s the use of even doing something if I know I’m not going to achieve the level of success I so crave? It’s always so easy being just so with yourself. Waking up everyday repeating the same routine. Never changing much and swaying when the occasional wind blows. It’s like a pair of fat-man jeans, you know they look bad but they feel so comfortable and you psych yourself up by thinking you’ll distract people with other aspects of you; your personality, your smarts, whatever.  I see it with myself. I get up, head to work, head to school after work, work out, shower, and sleep. Repeat cycle tomorrow.

 I’m not insecure when I say I’m afraid I’m never going to be good enough or when I confess how I don’t think I look good enough. It’s just that I know I have to keep moving and moving forward, working on the betterment of myself. The point of life (one of) is to be happy then happier and happier each day, each month, and each year. It’s not because I care about what other individuals think of me but what I think of myself. I know I can be better and sow so much more. I know the things I can do if I just push myself. There are things in my life right now that I naturally feel more compelled and inclined to as compared to others. ‘I just need to find more time’, I tell myself like a broken record. But I’ll never have time if I don’t make time for it. This is my first waddling step to doing the things I set out to realize. But I don’t feel like I’ve done much or as much as I want to accomplish. I have to head back to college, get back into learning music, and yes, start writing again.

This will be an avenue for me to stand and pour and retell and vent and begrudge in gratuity. Here’s to assaying and taking a harder whack at this. 

I’d like to think that I’ve tried, be it with people or with opportunities that come my way. At the end of the day, there is no point crying over wasted time that I spilled just because I can. I’ve just got to make tomorrow way much better then.