Today was flag day. Buffalinos has told me the youngest get the most love. LOLOL. Joel is a good brother. But was feeling kind of low cause I made the whole class wait for me for soooooo long... Till I saw this video.
What an inspiration. It really cheered me up a lot. And in a way, motivated me.
Buffalinos are still the best. Love you guys.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Eh eh eh ehwa. Fo fo fo fowa.
Hello lovies! Came back from FOWA recently! I really honesty didn't actually enjoy the camp (if you even call it one). The reason was mainly because of the campers in my group. Maybe bonding wasn't emphasized much enough? Maybe my first love Buffalino was still the best? Maybe the camp was too short for any bonding to take place? Not very sure either. BUT. I have to admit that I did have fun here and there throughout the whole fowa. You won't see me saying this on Twitter cause the seniors might see it and feel disappointed. Don't want them to feel that way cause they've really put in a lot of effort for FOWA. Maybe some things just didn't click so it wasn't as good as expected.
Woke up like at 7 just to meet up at pasir ris at 9. SIGHHHH. #westsiderforlife. First day of FOWA was just plain awkward as usual like all typical camps. And after spsuFOC, it seemed perfectly normal to have a shower at 2-3 early in the morning.Slept lights out was at 4. Stayed up with Mingmin, Kaela, Jeffrey, Kenneth and Glendon. But Kaela and Glendon knocked out halfway while Mingmin and Jeffrey took power naps. We didn't really talk about anything this time round cause all we were in a rather public place and if we weren't careful enough, other campers woulf have heard our conversations.
The much anticipated night walk. Was a disappointment. The comm didn't say what went wrong, but A for Effort lah guys. -clap- You all really worked hard. We were blindfolded and then lead in groups by gp to the area for night walk. Cause I was in the front (with Shaowen) and the blind people at the back kept stepping on my shoes (step until I need to rewear them), the gp rearranged us and made us walk in a way that we won't step on each other. But as a result, while he was leading us, he had to walk in a backwards fashion. Thumbs up for his sacrifice cause it was tiring. Talked to him while he was leading cause it was quite... awkwardly quiet if no one speaked up. Ben was his name. Then we were lead to a pavillion and four to a seat cause there weren't enough seat. Sat out a little bit more so the rest had more space to sit; was afraid I could be taking up too much space. Then think Ben saw and made me go to another seat. A stoney stool all to myself; cooling, not touching any bodies emitting heat. It pays to be kind sometimes I see. :3 Then Ben tapped my head and asked for my name. Love these kind of big brother tap. Not the kind of mess-your-hair tap. Yay felt loved. :)
Survived the entire second day of camp with sweets provided by Glendon. Game highlight of the second day would be that soap hockey game. Basically there would be this big big mat that you have to glide on your knees and have your hands in some sort of a volleyball digging position to swipe the supposedly puck which was A BAR OF SOAP. The mat was filled with washing powder water. So concentrated; the smell was so strong. Then for a worser nightmare, the started adding soy sauce. OHMYGOODNESS. Like as if spsuFOC wasn't bad enough. The smell of soy sauce plus washing powder is the most revolting smell yet ever. But wait, that wasn't all. They started adding all sorts of left over paint. And then cracked eggs everywhere. Even on the players' heads. They brought revolting smell to a whole new level. Respect. Told them I couldn't get wet so I sat aside and cheered for Scylla anyway. Kenneth the geng king no excuse also can anyhow say an excuse and he was excused from the game. Respect.
Cause it started raining quite heavily after that hockey game, we played indoor games. Oh my goodness lah so much contact with each other. Can smell everyone. D: There was this particular game called the atom game if I wasn't wrong. Good thing it was in pairs not triplets, cause we had to link arms. Since Kenneth Kaela and Winnie were the clean ones cause we all didn't play the hockey game, we kept running to each other. But Kenneth and I mainly stuck to each other cause we were the ones who didn't want to like erm... make ourselves smell. :P LOLOL. I sound like a super spoilt camper here. So basically most of the while I was with Kenneth. Then we started talking a lot. He's super entertaining I tell you. HAHAHAHA. Then when people wanted to come beside us (meaning either one of us had to run away and find another pair), he'll be like "Go away, I don't want you, I love my sister." HAHAHAH. Awwwww. Felt so loved again. :3
Loved the photo taking session after the dinner. Love photo taking sessions after every camp. It's like it'll tell you who cares/love you by the way they ask to take photos with you and how you all pose for the picture. You can tell how much you are to the person or the kind of person they are when you take a photo with them. Awkward pose/distance = not that close yet... etc and the list goes on.
Okok. Plan to sleep like 11-1130 now. Should sleep soon. :)
Woke up like at 7 just to meet up at pasir ris at 9. SIGHHHH. #westsiderforlife. First day of FOWA was just plain awkward as usual like all typical camps. And after spsuFOC, it seemed perfectly normal to have a shower at 2-3 early in the morning.
The much anticipated night walk. Was a disappointment. The comm didn't say what went wrong, but A for Effort lah guys. -clap- You all really worked hard. We were blindfolded and then lead in groups by gp to the area for night walk. Cause I was in the front (with Shaowen) and the blind people at the back kept stepping on my shoes (step until I need to rewear them), the gp rearranged us and made us walk in a way that we won't step on each other. But as a result, while he was leading us, he had to walk in a backwards fashion. Thumbs up for his sacrifice cause it was tiring. Talked to him while he was leading cause it was quite... awkwardly quiet if no one speaked up. Ben was his name. Then we were lead to a pavillion and four to a seat cause there weren't enough seat. Sat out a little bit more so the rest had more space to sit; was afraid I could be taking up too much space. Then think Ben saw and made me go to another seat. A stoney stool all to myself; cooling, not touching any bodies emitting heat. It pays to be kind sometimes I see. :3 Then Ben tapped my head and asked for my name. Love these kind of big brother tap. Not the kind of mess-your-hair tap. Yay felt loved. :)
Survived the entire second day of camp with sweets provided by Glendon. Game highlight of the second day would be that soap hockey game. Basically there would be this big big mat that you have to glide on your knees and have your hands in some sort of a volleyball digging position to swipe the supposedly puck which was A BAR OF SOAP. The mat was filled with washing powder water. So concentrated; the smell was so strong. Then for a worser nightmare, the started adding soy sauce. OHMYGOODNESS. Like as if spsuFOC wasn't bad enough. The smell of soy sauce plus washing powder is the most revolting smell yet ever. But wait, that wasn't all. They started adding all sorts of left over paint. And then cracked eggs everywhere. Even on the players' heads. They brought revolting smell to a whole new level. Respect. Told them I couldn't get wet so I sat aside and cheered for Scylla anyway. Kenneth the geng king no excuse also can anyhow say an excuse and he was excused from the game. Respect.
Cause it started raining quite heavily after that hockey game, we played indoor games. Oh my goodness lah so much contact with each other. Can smell everyone. D: There was this particular game called the atom game if I wasn't wrong. Good thing it was in pairs not triplets, cause we had to link arms. Since Kenneth Kaela and Winnie were the clean ones cause we all didn't play the hockey game, we kept running to each other. But Kenneth and I mainly stuck to each other cause we were the ones who didn't want to like erm... make ourselves smell. :P LOLOL. I sound like a super spoilt camper here. So basically most of the while I was with Kenneth. Then we started talking a lot. He's super entertaining I tell you. HAHAHAHA. Then when people wanted to come beside us (meaning either one of us had to run away and find another pair), he'll be like "Go away, I don't want you, I love my sister." HAHAHAH. Awwwww. Felt so loved again. :3
Loved the photo taking session after the dinner. Love photo taking sessions after every camp. It's like it'll tell you who cares/love you by the way they ask to take photos with you and how you all pose for the picture. You can tell how much you are to the person or the kind of person they are when you take a photo with them. Awkward pose/distance = not that close yet... etc and the list goes on.
Okok. Plan to sleep like 11-1130 now. Should sleep soon. :)
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
It's just... sometimes...
Seems to me like a long since I've posted something. Hello people! :)
I totally love it how portable my laptop is. I totally love it how there's a plug beside my bed. So I'm currently chilling on my bed with my lappie while charging my phone and typing this post.
Just did my online application for some scholarship. The online form seemed to empathise more on academic achievements and after thinking half day, trying to recall any academic achievements that I've received, I sadly say... NONE. The only pathetic one that I found was the good progress award I got last year. BUT IT'S JUST TELLING SOMEONE HOW BAD YOU WERE THE PREVIOUS YEAR ACADEMICALLY IN JUST A NICER WAY LUHZ. Oh my gosh... It's bad enough that I'm not a 5-6 pointer... SIGH. Totally not gonna get it lahhh. Then dad was like "No harm applying." Are you seriouzzz. I feel embarrassed enough not being able to produce any academic achievements that's worth a smile pls.
And because it's my first time applying for a scholarship, had my brother to help me. HAHAHAHA. I'm like some loser as compared to my brother sia. When I asked him about what can be considered as an academic achievement, he was like "You have all those kind of Maths Olympiad, humanities talent program or not." And I sadly said "None." Then his face was like blank.... "What you do in secondary school ah?" Waaaaa super ashamed lah. He's like sooooo many until he gets to choose what kind of achievements he wanna back him but but here I am with... NOTHING. Like so sad. I seriously have no idea how are we siblings can. Think the only thing that we have in common would probably be the blood we share. I don't even dare say we have similar genes. HAHAHAHA.
Many people actually think I was popular in css. But NO. I lead a low profile life in upper sec kay. Still got so much drama. Especially in sec 4. OH. MY. GOSH. Dramas should strictly be kept to the small screens aka televisions and computers. Not real life.
Kay. Apparently all my poly friends, the newly made ones during foc, all think I'm the studious type. WHAT A BIG MISTAKE. But fine. I'm considering to be a nerd for my poly life. Don't wanna disappoint my parents any further. TIME FOR A CHANGE. I knew they were expecting a single digit from my raw R5. But it wasn't. It happened for PSLE too. Disappointing them for my whole life like I've got nothing better to do. Though they don't show it, but somehow I can sense it. They say I've done my best and they're happy but I know I could have just worked a little hard to do a little better.
Night chat with my best guy friendssssssssss. (Y). Kthnxbai.
Friday, March 29, 2013
We are all prostitutes.
The currency of our trade isn’t always measured by intimate nights or folded dollar bills – we play at much higher stakes: we barter our hearts away. While the ladies of the night conceal their faces with layer upon layer of makeup and loiter in dim alleys; we, unlike them, know no shame. We brandish our statuses as prostitutes – flaunt them even – revel in our debauchery.
Of course, you never intended to become a prostitute to begin with. No one does. In kindergarten, when all the children drew pictures of what they wanted to be when they grew up, you drew the obligatory "doctor" or "teacher" with your blunt crayons, and waited for your mother to admire it. It did not matter that you spelt "doctor" with a "k" or that your sketch of a teacher had only three fingers on each hand – the ambitions were sufficient. You did not stand up and declare, "I want to be a harlot." No one does.
In college, when everyone else was out partying and having the time of their lives, you stayed in your dormitory – hungover from too many late nights spent poring over your books. You worked evening shifts at a fast food restaurant to pay off your tuition fees and spent the rest of the time studying. You did not take the easy way out; did not smoke weed or get wasted or sleep with everyone in your corridor.
In fact, you saved your virginity for marriage – you married a nice decent boy and both of you bought a nice decent house and you had a nice decent job with nice decent hours and it is in the middle of the night that you realise that you have been unhappy all along. You are tired of this chaste life of yours that you have been living – and you decide: it is time to do something decadent. You climb out of bed and put on the shortest skirt you own, and take care to hitch it up two inches further.
You take nothing with you as you tiptoe out of the bedroom door and catch a glimpse of your husband’s silhouette stirring in the dark. You know full well that he is awake; he is watching you leave, and you do so anyway. You know that this will break his heart and that you will not return in the morning – so there will be no screaming tearful scene to dread – and you walk out into the night.
How does this work? You aren’t sure and the night is way colder than you had thought it would be. You fold your arms and exhale – your breath comes in pale white clouds – and wait by the sidewalk. You have no idea who you are waiting for; but you recognize him instantly, even from a distance. The golden tip of his cigar illuminates the shadows of his face and his dark eyes are trained upon your face.
"Let’s play a game," he announces as he makes his way to your side. "No one will ever find out."
"What is it?"
"Oh, this is all very simple. We’ll make a trade, all right? I know you’re lonely and you’re tired of your life – throw everything to the winds then! Spend some time with me. I’ll show you what life was meant to be. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime."
A part of you hesitates: it isn’t too late to turn back now - your house is just a block away. But this irresistibly handsome man is making you a proposal; he seems a little tipsy, but he knows what he is talking about.
"So what will it be, m’lady? All I ask is just a little bit – just a fraction – of your heart. You don’t have to give me all of it." He cocks his head and takes another drag of his cigarette. "You come with me – I’ll show you the world – and all you have to give me is just a fraction of your heart. What would you do with a complete heart anyway?"
You nod and his face breaks into a grin, exposing his perfectly aligned teeth. You shake hands.
"Very well, then. It’s nice to meet you: I’m Thrill."
The deal having been sealed; you spend the next few weeks with him. It is completely exhilarating, a whirlwind of perfectly sequenced, impeccably timed adventures. You ride in his convertible at speeds so fast your breath catches and the wind roars against your ears and your eyes water. You dine at an impossibly expensive restaurant without a penny in either of your pockets – and dash. You get high, smoke pot – do everything with Thrill that you had always dreamed of but never dared. You spend your nights in clubs in a blissful haze and dash across roads in a drunken daze with Thrill by your side, always by your side.
The first two weeks are perfect, and then you grow irate and tired. And after too many mornings spent nursing a splitting headache, you decide that you have had enough of Thrill. You find him lounging on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned, his chiselled good looks untainted by the endless wild nights. But he seems to have lost his charm, and you are angry and miserable and upset about the tattoo you had gotten on impulse the night before – a string of Korean characters that you didn’t even understand.
"I’m leaving; can I please have that part of my heart back?"
Thrill shakes his head. "That’s not how things work, you’ve had your fun and now you want to leave. That’s fine. But remember the trade we made? I kept my end of the bargain, so no, you can’t."
That very night, you are out on the streets again – waiting for another proposal, ignoring the leers from the men around you. And this time, you meet Approval – a nice boy with thick black rimmed glasses, a couple of years younger than you.
"You know the rules of the game," he says softly, without the half the charm or witticisms of Thrill, but just as, if not more compellingly. "I can give you what you want. You’ve always wanted me – I’m the one you’ve been looking for all your life. All you have to do is give me a portion of your heart in return."
You squint at him in the dim light and the agreement is made.
He lives up to his word; he is an attentive lover: Approval showers you with compliments, and flowers, and little gifts, and little post-it notes that appear magically in your wallet. He makes you feel good about yourself in a way you have never felt before. "You’re perfect," he whispers as you frown at yourself in the mirror. "You’re beautiful," he assures you – even though no one has told you that before.
"You’re all I’ve always wanted," you tell Approval in return, knowing that will make his day.
But as days pass, Approval grows colder and more distant. You aren’t quite sure if the little encouraging notes are getting fewer and further in between – or if they just aren’t enough to make you happy anymore. He comes back later with each progressive night, and goes to bed tired, with only a cursory, flat "goodnight honey".
You seek Approval out: you buy new make-up, put on a new expensive dress, sidle up to him seductively in the hopes that he will look at you as he once did before. You were never quite in love with him, only with the attention that he gave; but now that he is cold and withdrawn, you are disappointed and bitter.
"I don’t need you!" you yell vehemently and storm out.
You stop at a nearby bar for a few drinks and meet Self-Confidence. She is pretty and tall with sultry dark eyes, and a halter top that reveals more than it conceals.
She takes a seat next to you, and watching you for a while, begins the conversation.
"Tell me your past lovers."
"Thrill and Approval," your voice has all the sulkiness of a scorned woman.
She pauses, downs her drink with a neat flick of her wrist, and smiles. Already she is relishing the words she has to say, and she knows she is making you an offer that you cannot refuse.
"Stop looking for Thrill; you have to stop. Please stop thinking about him. You’re not a teenager anymore."
"What about Approval?" you ask.
"Why would you need Approval when you can have me?" she leans across the counter and gazes steadily at you.
"I could be your new best friend. All you have to do is – "
You already know the end of her proposition. You think of your heart – your half of a heart, rather – and decide that you need her more than you require your heart.
She smiles indulgently. "My dear, you won’t need anyone as long as I’m here with you."
Having Self-Confidence by your side is the best thing that has happened to you. She brings you on shopping sprees, nods at everything in your shopping cart and assures you that you look good – no matter what others may say. Every meal is her treat; every trip out is a new lesson for you. She is your teacher, and the world is your classroom.
Self-Confidence takes you up to complete strangers and strikes conversations with them with enviable ease; she brings you to bars and restaurants and teaches you the subtle arts of flirting, of reeling in a man. She has stripped away your awkwardness and equipped you with the gift of the gab – although, admittedly, it is she who does most of the talking.
You love walking with her along crowded streets – you’re not quite certain if people are making a double take to look at you, or her, but it no longer matters. You love the attention.
One casual Friday night, you are seated with Self-Confidence at a riverside restaurant, when a man approaches the both of you – a stranger you have never met before.
"Hi, I’m R." He says, hand extended toward you.
You glance briefly at Self-Confidence and she nods approvingly at you.
"Hi," you reply. "What’s your full name, R?"
"I’m Relationship, but please, just call me R," he laughs, and gestures toward the empty seat next to you. "May I treat you ladies to dinner tonight?"
Self-Confidence and you have an amazing conversation with R and you feel an instant connection – despite the fact that he is perhaps, ten years older than you. He is witty and charming and soon, you have agreed on the next date. You are in love with him, even though you have only less than a quarter of a heart left, and you have prostituted yourself to Thrill and Approval and Self-Confidence and prostitutes do not fall in love.
You are in love with him, because he hasn’t made you a proposition.
Self-Confidence – your self-declared best friend after all – comes along with you on all your dates, turning your candlelight dinner dates into dinners for three. You are sitting between R and Self Confidence on a park bench, late one night after your date with him, and he turns to you – "I want to know you, really. Tell me about yourself."
Self-Confidence sneaks away quietly to grant the both of you some privacy; and finally, it is just the both of you without her imposing presence. You pull out the small portion of heart you have left and hand it to R, knowing that it is all you have left.
You don’t know where to begin and start blabbering all about your past to R – about Thrill, and Approval, and all your past lovers whom you’ve never quite gotten over. Without Self-Confidence, there is no one to keep your idle words in check, or to give you sharp glances when you have crossed your boundaries. Perhaps, you are a little tipsy, and perhaps you drank one too many glasses of wine at dinner.
"I really miss Approval," you sob. "I’ve been searching so long and hard for him." You are in love with R – you are quite certain of that – but without Self-Confidence, something else in you takes over and draws from you the words that you have actually been longing to say. "Please don’t go, R. I wouldn’t know what to do without you."
R is silent and then he asks quietly, "Where is Self-Confidence?"
It dawns upon you that he only liked you when she was with the both of you – he is quite evidently wincing at your tears and sob stories. Certainly, where is there not to like about Self-Confidence – the pretty, assured lady with a never ending supply of jokes and stories to dish out? You are hurt and silent and R hastily apologises – a half-hearted bumbling apology – and hand-in-hand, you return to a hotel with him, the air thick and heavy with the words the both of you had exchanged.
You sleep with him, thinking you could make him stay – after all you have given him your heart – but he is gone the next morning, and in his place is a stranger.
"What’s your name?" you ask, squinting at the scrawny man seated on the edge of your bed. Your head is pounding too painfully for formalities or courtesy. "I’m sorry... I think I must have been drunk last night, and I don’t remember meeting you. Where’s R?"
"I’m Hurt," comes the reply.
You stare quizzically at him and he interrupts your train of thought. "My name is Hurt. My twin sister is making breakfast – she’s Resentment, and I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. You’ve met R, haven’t you? I’m his replacement. Wherever he leaves, I’ll fill the spaces he has left behind."
"You must be mistaken - I don’t have any more of my heart to give to you. I have nothing left. I gave it all away to people who have left me."
"It’s alright," says Hurt. "I don’t need your heart. I stay with people who have lost theirs. I made a contract with R since the beginning of time – you will always try to seek him, but find me instead."
You sigh and get up to leave, but Hurt follows silently behind everywhere you go, tagging along in your shadow. He is a quiet guy and most people don’t take any notice of him; they don’t seem to see the stranger standing behind you all the time. How could they possibly not see?
At the most inconvenient times, when you’re finally all alone with Hurt, he rips out old photographs from dusty albums and dangles them in front of you. "You’ll never amount to anything," he snarls. "Everyone you love has left you."
After he has left, after he is done tearing you to bits, Resentment enters the room quietly after her brother and whispers, "It isn’t your fault, darling. It was all theirs. They didn’t know what they had when they left you. What jerks they are, aren’t they?"
You finally grow tired of the loathsome duo and you leave the house. This time as you run down the street in a mixture of fear and hysteria, they no longer tail behind silently – they grab at your clothes and pull your hair and try to take you captive once again. You run as fast as you can – missing that familiar pounding in your chest where your heart used to be – run, run, run until they are out of sight and you have lost them in the crowd and you turn a corner and realise that you are on the street where your old house used to be.
And all of a sudden, you see a familiar figure right where your house was. A man. Your husband. The one you left. He is older than when you last saw him, there are grey streaks in his hair and it is then that you realise you have been away for far too long. He pauses at the gate, stares vacantly down the street and suddenly squints into the distance.
You freeze. Perhaps you should run away.
"Darling?" he calls tentatively.
You glance behind, certain that you will see his new wife – but there is no one on the road but you.
"Darling? Is that you?" he calls again. He is walking towards you and you’re too stunned to move. You check behind you a second time and when you turn to face the road, he has broken into a run. Why is he running, why is he running? Your hair is dishevelled, your clothes are in rags, you are barefooted, why should he be running towards you? The last time you checked the mirror you were haggard and gaunt and your face was smeared with tears. You hadn’t even had any intention of coming back to see him like this. Why is he running?
Now he has caught you in his embrace: you’ve been away for so long you forgot how warm his chest was and how comfortable and safe it was to be in the arms of another.
"I can’t believe you’re back. I love you. I’ve been waiting for you all this while. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I missed you." His voice is on the verge of breaking, and you look up into his eyes to see tears.
"Why aren’t you angry with me?" your initial shock gives way to wonder.
"How could I be? You’re back. Have you forgotten me – your first love? Do you not remember how much I love you? How could I be angry with you?"
It is now your turn to cry – and the tears come thick and fast. You are overwhelmed by shock and gratitude and amazement: oh, certainly, this wasn’t the response you had expected.
"Come now, my dear, there shan’t be any tears tonight. I’ll take you out to dinner – at your favourite restaurant – how about that?"
"I haven’t any nice dresses," you begin to blubber, immediately realizing the absurdity of your statement.
"Then we’ll buy you one on the way. Come, come, you are home – that’s all that matters. I knew you’d come back – I’ve been waiting for you all this while." And he reaches to wipe your tears away – your dirty smudged face with his crisp white sleeves.
This is a happy ending – and everyone loves happy ending to stories – even if the stories don’t deserve the happy endings. This is my story; this could be your story – it could be anyone’s story.
But the question is:
Why do we do this? Why are we all prostitutes? Because we are human, and we constantly give ourselves away – even to things that do not satisfy, and people who will eventually leave us. Some of us give our hearts away for momentary thrills, others for the approval of others and yet others remain slaves to hurt and resentment.
This story doesn’t have to end with Hurt and Resentment. In the light of Easter, and what Jesus did on the cross, there is hope yet. There is hope out there for those of us who have fallen so far from grace and who have been searching so hard and so long and giving ourselves away to people, to things that will never satisfy.
This is the amazing story of grace. If only we return to Him, He will restore us. :)
–An excerpt from a place I happened to glance at.
Of course, you never intended to become a prostitute to begin with. No one does. In kindergarten, when all the children drew pictures of what they wanted to be when they grew up, you drew the obligatory "doctor" or "teacher" with your blunt crayons, and waited for your mother to admire it. It did not matter that you spelt "doctor" with a "k" or that your sketch of a teacher had only three fingers on each hand – the ambitions were sufficient. You did not stand up and declare, "I want to be a harlot." No one does.
In college, when everyone else was out partying and having the time of their lives, you stayed in your dormitory – hungover from too many late nights spent poring over your books. You worked evening shifts at a fast food restaurant to pay off your tuition fees and spent the rest of the time studying. You did not take the easy way out; did not smoke weed or get wasted or sleep with everyone in your corridor.
In fact, you saved your virginity for marriage – you married a nice decent boy and both of you bought a nice decent house and you had a nice decent job with nice decent hours and it is in the middle of the night that you realise that you have been unhappy all along. You are tired of this chaste life of yours that you have been living – and you decide: it is time to do something decadent. You climb out of bed and put on the shortest skirt you own, and take care to hitch it up two inches further.
You take nothing with you as you tiptoe out of the bedroom door and catch a glimpse of your husband’s silhouette stirring in the dark. You know full well that he is awake; he is watching you leave, and you do so anyway. You know that this will break his heart and that you will not return in the morning – so there will be no screaming tearful scene to dread – and you walk out into the night.
How does this work? You aren’t sure and the night is way colder than you had thought it would be. You fold your arms and exhale – your breath comes in pale white clouds – and wait by the sidewalk. You have no idea who you are waiting for; but you recognize him instantly, even from a distance. The golden tip of his cigar illuminates the shadows of his face and his dark eyes are trained upon your face.
"Let’s play a game," he announces as he makes his way to your side. "No one will ever find out."
"What is it?"
"Oh, this is all very simple. We’ll make a trade, all right? I know you’re lonely and you’re tired of your life – throw everything to the winds then! Spend some time with me. I’ll show you what life was meant to be. This could be the opportunity of a lifetime."
A part of you hesitates: it isn’t too late to turn back now - your house is just a block away. But this irresistibly handsome man is making you a proposal; he seems a little tipsy, but he knows what he is talking about.
"So what will it be, m’lady? All I ask is just a little bit – just a fraction – of your heart. You don’t have to give me all of it." He cocks his head and takes another drag of his cigarette. "You come with me – I’ll show you the world – and all you have to give me is just a fraction of your heart. What would you do with a complete heart anyway?"
You nod and his face breaks into a grin, exposing his perfectly aligned teeth. You shake hands.
"Very well, then. It’s nice to meet you: I’m Thrill."
The deal having been sealed; you spend the next few weeks with him. It is completely exhilarating, a whirlwind of perfectly sequenced, impeccably timed adventures. You ride in his convertible at speeds so fast your breath catches and the wind roars against your ears and your eyes water. You dine at an impossibly expensive restaurant without a penny in either of your pockets – and dash. You get high, smoke pot – do everything with Thrill that you had always dreamed of but never dared. You spend your nights in clubs in a blissful haze and dash across roads in a drunken daze with Thrill by your side, always by your side.
The first two weeks are perfect, and then you grow irate and tired. And after too many mornings spent nursing a splitting headache, you decide that you have had enough of Thrill. You find him lounging on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned, his chiselled good looks untainted by the endless wild nights. But he seems to have lost his charm, and you are angry and miserable and upset about the tattoo you had gotten on impulse the night before – a string of Korean characters that you didn’t even understand.
"I’m leaving; can I please have that part of my heart back?"
Thrill shakes his head. "That’s not how things work, you’ve had your fun and now you want to leave. That’s fine. But remember the trade we made? I kept my end of the bargain, so no, you can’t."
That very night, you are out on the streets again – waiting for another proposal, ignoring the leers from the men around you. And this time, you meet Approval – a nice boy with thick black rimmed glasses, a couple of years younger than you.
"You know the rules of the game," he says softly, without the half the charm or witticisms of Thrill, but just as, if not more compellingly. "I can give you what you want. You’ve always wanted me – I’m the one you’ve been looking for all your life. All you have to do is give me a portion of your heart in return."
You squint at him in the dim light and the agreement is made.
He lives up to his word; he is an attentive lover: Approval showers you with compliments, and flowers, and little gifts, and little post-it notes that appear magically in your wallet. He makes you feel good about yourself in a way you have never felt before. "You’re perfect," he whispers as you frown at yourself in the mirror. "You’re beautiful," he assures you – even though no one has told you that before.
"You’re all I’ve always wanted," you tell Approval in return, knowing that will make his day.
But as days pass, Approval grows colder and more distant. You aren’t quite sure if the little encouraging notes are getting fewer and further in between – or if they just aren’t enough to make you happy anymore. He comes back later with each progressive night, and goes to bed tired, with only a cursory, flat "goodnight honey".
You seek Approval out: you buy new make-up, put on a new expensive dress, sidle up to him seductively in the hopes that he will look at you as he once did before. You were never quite in love with him, only with the attention that he gave; but now that he is cold and withdrawn, you are disappointed and bitter.
"I don’t need you!" you yell vehemently and storm out.
You stop at a nearby bar for a few drinks and meet Self-Confidence. She is pretty and tall with sultry dark eyes, and a halter top that reveals more than it conceals.
She takes a seat next to you, and watching you for a while, begins the conversation.
"Tell me your past lovers."
"Thrill and Approval," your voice has all the sulkiness of a scorned woman.
She pauses, downs her drink with a neat flick of her wrist, and smiles. Already she is relishing the words she has to say, and she knows she is making you an offer that you cannot refuse.
"Stop looking for Thrill; you have to stop. Please stop thinking about him. You’re not a teenager anymore."
"What about Approval?" you ask.
"Why would you need Approval when you can have me?" she leans across the counter and gazes steadily at you.
"I could be your new best friend. All you have to do is – "
You already know the end of her proposition. You think of your heart – your half of a heart, rather – and decide that you need her more than you require your heart.
She smiles indulgently. "My dear, you won’t need anyone as long as I’m here with you."
Having Self-Confidence by your side is the best thing that has happened to you. She brings you on shopping sprees, nods at everything in your shopping cart and assures you that you look good – no matter what others may say. Every meal is her treat; every trip out is a new lesson for you. She is your teacher, and the world is your classroom.
Self-Confidence takes you up to complete strangers and strikes conversations with them with enviable ease; she brings you to bars and restaurants and teaches you the subtle arts of flirting, of reeling in a man. She has stripped away your awkwardness and equipped you with the gift of the gab – although, admittedly, it is she who does most of the talking.
You love walking with her along crowded streets – you’re not quite certain if people are making a double take to look at you, or her, but it no longer matters. You love the attention.
One casual Friday night, you are seated with Self-Confidence at a riverside restaurant, when a man approaches the both of you – a stranger you have never met before.
"Hi, I’m R." He says, hand extended toward you.
You glance briefly at Self-Confidence and she nods approvingly at you.
"Hi," you reply. "What’s your full name, R?"
"I’m Relationship, but please, just call me R," he laughs, and gestures toward the empty seat next to you. "May I treat you ladies to dinner tonight?"
Self-Confidence and you have an amazing conversation with R and you feel an instant connection – despite the fact that he is perhaps, ten years older than you. He is witty and charming and soon, you have agreed on the next date. You are in love with him, even though you have only less than a quarter of a heart left, and you have prostituted yourself to Thrill and Approval and Self-Confidence and prostitutes do not fall in love.
You are in love with him, because he hasn’t made you a proposition.
Self-Confidence – your self-declared best friend after all – comes along with you on all your dates, turning your candlelight dinner dates into dinners for three. You are sitting between R and Self Confidence on a park bench, late one night after your date with him, and he turns to you – "I want to know you, really. Tell me about yourself."
Self-Confidence sneaks away quietly to grant the both of you some privacy; and finally, it is just the both of you without her imposing presence. You pull out the small portion of heart you have left and hand it to R, knowing that it is all you have left.
You don’t know where to begin and start blabbering all about your past to R – about Thrill, and Approval, and all your past lovers whom you’ve never quite gotten over. Without Self-Confidence, there is no one to keep your idle words in check, or to give you sharp glances when you have crossed your boundaries. Perhaps, you are a little tipsy, and perhaps you drank one too many glasses of wine at dinner.
"I really miss Approval," you sob. "I’ve been searching so long and hard for him." You are in love with R – you are quite certain of that – but without Self-Confidence, something else in you takes over and draws from you the words that you have actually been longing to say. "Please don’t go, R. I wouldn’t know what to do without you."
R is silent and then he asks quietly, "Where is Self-Confidence?"
It dawns upon you that he only liked you when she was with the both of you – he is quite evidently wincing at your tears and sob stories. Certainly, where is there not to like about Self-Confidence – the pretty, assured lady with a never ending supply of jokes and stories to dish out? You are hurt and silent and R hastily apologises – a half-hearted bumbling apology – and hand-in-hand, you return to a hotel with him, the air thick and heavy with the words the both of you had exchanged.
You sleep with him, thinking you could make him stay – after all you have given him your heart – but he is gone the next morning, and in his place is a stranger.
"What’s your name?" you ask, squinting at the scrawny man seated on the edge of your bed. Your head is pounding too painfully for formalities or courtesy. "I’m sorry... I think I must have been drunk last night, and I don’t remember meeting you. Where’s R?"
"I’m Hurt," comes the reply.
You stare quizzically at him and he interrupts your train of thought. "My name is Hurt. My twin sister is making breakfast – she’s Resentment, and I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. You’ve met R, haven’t you? I’m his replacement. Wherever he leaves, I’ll fill the spaces he has left behind."
"You must be mistaken - I don’t have any more of my heart to give to you. I have nothing left. I gave it all away to people who have left me."
"It’s alright," says Hurt. "I don’t need your heart. I stay with people who have lost theirs. I made a contract with R since the beginning of time – you will always try to seek him, but find me instead."
You sigh and get up to leave, but Hurt follows silently behind everywhere you go, tagging along in your shadow. He is a quiet guy and most people don’t take any notice of him; they don’t seem to see the stranger standing behind you all the time. How could they possibly not see?
At the most inconvenient times, when you’re finally all alone with Hurt, he rips out old photographs from dusty albums and dangles them in front of you. "You’ll never amount to anything," he snarls. "Everyone you love has left you."
After he has left, after he is done tearing you to bits, Resentment enters the room quietly after her brother and whispers, "It isn’t your fault, darling. It was all theirs. They didn’t know what they had when they left you. What jerks they are, aren’t they?"
You finally grow tired of the loathsome duo and you leave the house. This time as you run down the street in a mixture of fear and hysteria, they no longer tail behind silently – they grab at your clothes and pull your hair and try to take you captive once again. You run as fast as you can – missing that familiar pounding in your chest where your heart used to be – run, run, run until they are out of sight and you have lost them in the crowd and you turn a corner and realise that you are on the street where your old house used to be.
And all of a sudden, you see a familiar figure right where your house was. A man. Your husband. The one you left. He is older than when you last saw him, there are grey streaks in his hair and it is then that you realise you have been away for far too long. He pauses at the gate, stares vacantly down the street and suddenly squints into the distance.
You freeze. Perhaps you should run away.
"Darling?" he calls tentatively.
You glance behind, certain that you will see his new wife – but there is no one on the road but you.
"Darling? Is that you?" he calls again. He is walking towards you and you’re too stunned to move. You check behind you a second time and when you turn to face the road, he has broken into a run. Why is he running, why is he running? Your hair is dishevelled, your clothes are in rags, you are barefooted, why should he be running towards you? The last time you checked the mirror you were haggard and gaunt and your face was smeared with tears. You hadn’t even had any intention of coming back to see him like this. Why is he running?
Now he has caught you in his embrace: you’ve been away for so long you forgot how warm his chest was and how comfortable and safe it was to be in the arms of another.
"I can’t believe you’re back. I love you. I’ve been waiting for you all this while. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I missed you." His voice is on the verge of breaking, and you look up into his eyes to see tears.
"Why aren’t you angry with me?" your initial shock gives way to wonder.
"How could I be? You’re back. Have you forgotten me – your first love? Do you not remember how much I love you? How could I be angry with you?"
It is now your turn to cry – and the tears come thick and fast. You are overwhelmed by shock and gratitude and amazement: oh, certainly, this wasn’t the response you had expected.
"Come now, my dear, there shan’t be any tears tonight. I’ll take you out to dinner – at your favourite restaurant – how about that?"
"I haven’t any nice dresses," you begin to blubber, immediately realizing the absurdity of your statement.
"Then we’ll buy you one on the way. Come, come, you are home – that’s all that matters. I knew you’d come back – I’ve been waiting for you all this while." And he reaches to wipe your tears away – your dirty smudged face with his crisp white sleeves.
This is a happy ending – and everyone loves happy ending to stories – even if the stories don’t deserve the happy endings. This is my story; this could be your story – it could be anyone’s story.
But the question is:
Why do we do this? Why are we all prostitutes? Because we are human, and we constantly give ourselves away – even to things that do not satisfy, and people who will eventually leave us. Some of us give our hearts away for momentary thrills, others for the approval of others and yet others remain slaves to hurt and resentment.
This story doesn’t have to end with Hurt and Resentment. In the light of Easter, and what Jesus did on the cross, there is hope yet. There is hope out there for those of us who have fallen so far from grace and who have been searching so hard and so long and giving ourselves away to people, to things that will never satisfy.
This is the amazing story of grace. If only we return to Him, He will restore us. :)
–An excerpt from a place I happened to glance at.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
SPSU SPSU FOC.
Hey lovies! Back from a great time at spsuFOC. As usual the first day was super awks but then it got better especially when we barely had 3h of sleep on the first day. Everyone got crankier and as a result, we got closer. Pulled off an all-nighter together along with Mingmin, Kenneth, Jeffrey and Kokwei. Cause I was warned by Jason to never sleep on the last night. HAHAHA. Great senior I got there. :P
Oh oh Aravin found out that I was his junior from qifa to css. Super fail lah he! But then after he found out then he super suan me. And on the last night of camp he even brought a bunch of seniors to camp outside my dorm just to wait for me to sleep and enter to tekan everyone in the dorm. HAHAHA TOO BAD I DECIDED NOT TO SLEEP.
Sat at the staircase with the other 4 and chatted from 4 all the way till 7+. Kenneth plus Jeffrey were super super funny then plus Kokwei wahhhh 3h passed so fast. Laugh and laugh and laugh until no sound came out.
It was a super hardcore camp and I won't deny that at times I felt quite sian cause like everyone were just quiet and I've got no one to high with. But as the camp progressed, we had lesser time to sleep, and we started getting crazier and showed their real side, we all got higher. So overall, I did enjoy the camp. :)
Had lunch with Mingmin, Jeffrey and Sean after break camp. Then Kenneth pangseh-ed his friends for awhile and came to sit and chat with us. Laugh like siao again. The combination of Kenneth and Jeffrey really can give your abs a work out lor. Took quite a number of photos but due to me being too shag from the camp, I shall not post them online lest I scar you all mentally for life. LOLOL. But it's alright, all the poly people shall see my ugly side. LOOK SO GOOD IN POLY FOR WHAT. Study lah. HAHAHAHA. Shall stick to my policy of specs to school and contacts else where. DEAL WITH UGLY HUIEN YO. :P
Went to sp today to configure my laptop with Shaowen. Then so happened her family's Dean and Ryan gonna go configure laptop too. So we just went all together luh. Lunched with this senior called Kenyu and then went to configure my lappie. WHO SAID CONFIGURING MEANT 3H OF WAITING. Went there and straight away directed into the rooms. Then my configuration was less than 30 min. Business course FTW! Only needed to download Microsoft office. (Out of about 10 other programs) HEHEHEH. Then while waiting for us, Dean went to Moberly with Keith. So since we didn't know our way around, Dean came back to the configuring place and escorted us to Moberly. HAHAHA awwwww sweet right. MTDC FTW. :D
Slacked awhile at the café then went to get our SP shirts!! WOOOOO. Pretty pretty SP shirts. Bought one black and white dry fit shirt each. Gonna wear those to FOWA with Shaowen and Dean. Then gonna buy the black tank top and sweater soon. ;) Oh oh and I want my cotton shirts mannnn. Oh well, got the whole of the year to slowly buy. No need rush LOL.
Then we headed to the club room but then we didn't see our parents so we just waited outside cause we were being ultimate awkward turtles there. Then finally Angela came and she brought us to SPSU. Super welcoming bunch of people lah! Although we didn't know every single one of them but they were super nice to talk to. And just anyhow photobomb here and there. They photobomb your photos and you photobomb them. And then just suddenly their cams will be in front of you and YOU JUST POSE. LOLOL. Waiting for the photos to go on Facebook. Hope they even remember to post LOLOL. Whata nice buncha people. (Y)
Oh oh Aravin found out that I was his junior from qifa to css. Super fail lah he! But then after he found out then he super suan me. And on the last night of camp he even brought a bunch of seniors to camp outside my dorm just to wait for me to sleep and enter to tekan everyone in the dorm. HAHAHA TOO BAD I DECIDED NOT TO SLEEP.
Sat at the staircase with the other 4 and chatted from 4 all the way till 7+. Kenneth plus Jeffrey were super super funny then plus Kokwei wahhhh 3h passed so fast. Laugh and laugh and laugh until no sound came out.
It was a super hardcore camp and I won't deny that at times I felt quite sian cause like everyone were just quiet and I've got no one to high with. But as the camp progressed, we had lesser time to sleep, and we started getting crazier and showed their real side, we all got higher. So overall, I did enjoy the camp. :)
Had lunch with Mingmin, Jeffrey and Sean after break camp. Then Kenneth pangseh-ed his friends for awhile and came to sit and chat with us. Laugh like siao again. The combination of Kenneth and Jeffrey really can give your abs a work out lor. Took quite a number of photos but due to me being too shag from the camp, I shall not post them online lest I scar you all mentally for life. LOLOL. But it's alright, all the poly people shall see my ugly side. LOOK SO GOOD IN POLY FOR WHAT. Study lah. HAHAHAHA. Shall stick to my policy of specs to school and contacts else where. DEAL WITH UGLY HUIEN YO. :P
Went to sp today to configure my laptop with Shaowen. Then so happened her family's Dean and Ryan gonna go configure laptop too. So we just went all together luh. Lunched with this senior called Kenyu and then went to configure my lappie. WHO SAID CONFIGURING MEANT 3H OF WAITING. Went there and straight away directed into the rooms. Then my configuration was less than 30 min. Business course FTW! Only needed to download Microsoft office. (Out of about 10 other programs) HEHEHEH. Then while waiting for us, Dean went to Moberly with Keith. So since we didn't know our way around, Dean came back to the configuring place and escorted us to Moberly. HAHAHA awwwww sweet right. MTDC FTW. :D
Slacked awhile at the café then went to get our SP shirts!! WOOOOO. Pretty pretty SP shirts. Bought one black and white dry fit shirt each. Gonna wear those to FOWA with Shaowen and Dean. Then gonna buy the black tank top and sweater soon. ;) Oh oh and I want my cotton shirts mannnn. Oh well, got the whole of the year to slowly buy. No need rush LOL.
Then we headed to the club room but then we didn't see our parents so we just waited outside cause we were being ultimate awkward turtles there. Then finally Angela came and she brought us to SPSU. Super welcoming bunch of people lah! Although we didn't know every single one of them but they were super nice to talk to. And just anyhow photobomb here and there. They photobomb your photos and you photobomb them. And then just suddenly their cams will be in front of you and YOU JUST POSE. LOLOL. Waiting for the photos to go on Facebook. Hope they even remember to post LOLOL. Whata nice buncha people. (Y)
While waiting for our parents outside the place cause it was too awkward to wait inside.
With ma daddy! Specially came by to SPSU to say hi to me! ^^
The Bufalino family! Daddy and Uncles! LOLOL. I look so small around them... This picture had me got #daddyapproved 1000 times! HAHAH YAY! Officially daddy's favourite daughter. LOLOL.
Now waiting for Aravin to send/post the pictures.
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