I swear I'm on the edge of becoming unhealthily obese.

Normally I couldn't be bothered about this, but the fact that I'm short, AND my weight seems to increase continuously, tipping the 100% scales by two percent, I'm convinced I need to loose weight, because if I get anymore fatter I'll have to join the tuft club, which equals runningaround like a crazed maniac killer running from the police during recess, and I HATE running, and I have a reputation to protect.

I've gained 10kg in a year. T.T

At the rate of eating I seem to go through, frankly, I'm not surprised.

I seem to have cake(or equallyunhealthy foods) paronia late at night. Today I had the urge to eat cake, and stuffed myself contentedly with a HUGE slice measuring 5cm(in width), 6cm (in height) and around 8 cm in length.

And it's not the typical triangle slice. Nope--this was a CHUNK, a RECTANGULAR chunk. Okay, it wasn't rectangular, it was like a trapezium, 'cos I couldn't cut straight.

And I poured copious amounts of Hershley's Chocolate syrup on it, and chopped up an Oreo bar to go with it.

Thankfully, I only ate half of the Oreo bar.

Did I mention I ate a four-course dinner 5 hours beforehand, and my parents filled my plate with toufu and eggs and whatever food they can get their hands on?

God, I feel like a, uh, Chipmunk! Yeah, those cute critters at the zoo where they look adorably ridiculous when they stuff their mouths! (Or is that Hamtaro?)

Which brings me back to the point. I'M FAAAT.

Great. I'm short, and now I'm gonna be fat, thus giving more excuses to excercise. (Yeah, I hate excercising because I hate sweating which makes me smell, and my sense of smell is very keen. I also hate sports which make me tired. I would rather swim, but there's stupid chlorine in it, which is hard to wash off, and I have long hair too, which means extra time in the bathroom, which means longer water bills, which means I have a lesser chance of owning a laptop for Christmas.

Or I can walk. But I hate malls. I hate shopping, unless it's really necessary(necessary in the sense that I look like a walking fashion disaster, i.e. dressed in gaudy colours.

Sigh. Isn't there a painless way to lose weight?

When I say do NOT mess with my things (specifically speakers, or anything that need to be plugged) I mean it, especially when my eye spromise an imminent demise to fools.

Because I really, REALLY hate it when I have to waste 15 minutes plugging it back correctly.

Do NOT move th4e keyboard OR the speaker. The last idiot who moved the keyboard loosened the space bar, and I brought her to a verbal death.

To this day, the keyboard has been unfixable.

Seriously. Don't mess with me or my stuff for fear that one day you find yourself unable to wake up permanently.

Today I just had this urge to view my devianart inboxto see whether I had any new things. To my dissappointment, the number of messages were still the same--22.

Sighing resignedly, I decided to open it anyway for fun. I looked into the "favourites" section... and blinked.

My newest poem, "Friend" got favourited. Hereis the message, quoted from the notice:

~deviouslili has added Friend to their favourites. Nov 25, 2007, 7:44 AM

And I had posted it only last night.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure it wasn't some sortof delusion and squinted at the notice. It was true! My poem had been favourited.

Excuse the usual screams of excitement.

KYAAA! OMGOMGOMGOMFG KYAAA! AHH! OMG I GOT FAVOURITED!!!!

And I'm only 12 13(Geez, I keep forgetting I'm not 12 anymore).

But for no reason, I find 13 sounding incredibly old. Ah well.

Found this on the internet. Another reason why I hate men. Italiac comments are made by me.

"Good Wife guide in 1955"

The Good Wife's Guide:( 1955 )- Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.

Fine. But I stink at cooking. And besides, who says I'm gonna have so much time? I also have a career, dumbass, and I may earn so much more than you, complain and I shall sue yopu for half your assets.

- Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

What are we, showgirls?

- Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

Define 'interesting'. Hang on...duties? *smirks* Okay, then I shall set a deadly series of tras alongf the corridor and say it's entertainment. If he dies, he's not competemt enough. Boo-hoo.

- Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.

Wah, who is he, VIP? President of Singapore? Need I bow and kneel and ketow to him before I offer my services? You want that, go to a hotel. And don't get married to me, cos I will make your life hell.

- Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper etc and then run a dustcloth over the tables.

- Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

...not when I have a mountain of paperwork to do.

- Prepare the children. Take afew minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.

You want a quiet place, go to the graveyard. Even better, I'll send you there myself.*saccharine smile* I'd rather it be lively and cheerful, thank you very much.

- Be happy to see him.Only if he's happy to see me.- Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

- Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

Quite fair in the 1950s I guess, as housewives can only talk about the increase of prices of vegetables or something as mind-numbingly mundane. HIS topics are more important? What would he talk about, hot girls and bikinis? What if I want to discuss the removal of the law allowing gays in Singapore? Is that unimportant?

- Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.

Then what about MY world filled with puerile beings and utter boredom? Goes out to dinner without me and comes home late, and not complain? His world more pressurised than mine? We women are not simpletons! Okay, I won't complain, as I will be too busy planning apainful torture or debating what special death-inducing ingredient I can add to your meal...

- Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquillity where you husband can renew himselfs in body and spirit.

Go to a spa. That's what it's for.

- Dont greet him with complaints and problems.

Okay, so if a thief comes in and steals everything, I'll just keep quiet and leave him to sleep on the cold stone floor.

- Dont complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through the day.

What about me? What if he's unemployed?

- Make him comfortable, Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

- Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

*plans a slow and painful death for whoever who imposed these demandson women, if he isn't dead yet*

- Dont ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always excercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

WTBMFH?!!!! Yeah right. What if he cheats with another? Am I supposed to be his automatic robot and greet him nicely. No way, buster. Divorce, and I want your death as payment. And all your assets, as well aspublic humiliation. No right to question him...I'll give him no rights in high court!

- A good wife always know her place.

Well, GO FUCK YOURSELF IN HELL AND STAY THERE. Enjoy your stay with satan.

Another reason I am not gonna be married, not that anyone wants me anyway, thank God.

KYYYAAAA!OMG OMG OMG KYAAAA! SQUEEE!!!!!! OMFG!

Someone commented on my poem, 'Insecurities' and said that it had good imagery! They even added it to their favourties!

OMG OMFG KYYYAAAA!!!!

I am so excited(you can tell, can't you?) that I keep making typos!

Right now I have this HUGE chesire cat grin pastered permenantly on my face and it won't come of! OMG writer's europhia!

The sweetness is as great as getting into the top 10 for class! Asgreat as watching your enemy get humiliated!

Oh, the sweetness, the pure candied, candy-coated, cloying, delicious, honeyed, luscious, nectareous, saccharine, sugared, sweetened, syrupy, toothsome sweetness of it all!

*Goes into a conniption fit again*

KYYAAAA! KYAAA! OMGOMGOMG!

(Yeah, I know I'm acting like a bimbo, shuddup and stop being a wet blanket)

Right now I am sitting here, typing this and reading a romance fanfiction (For what reason? I don't know, I just felt like it) and babbling.

I want chocolate.

Speaking of chocolate...SHIT THE JAPANESE HOMEWORK!

I wonder if I can get away with it...I just don't feel like doing it.

I hate tomato soup. I hate almost everything tomato except ketchup and tomato-flavoured chips. There's something about eating the raw fruit itself that freaks me out. And drinking the soup. I mean, I have no problem with spaghetti, but when I drink minestrone soup...it's a different story.

Especially if the minestrone soup happens to be cooked beggar's style (diluted and watery).

Guess the most retarded thing I did today.

Can't? Nevermind, I'll tell you.

You see, 15 minutes ago I was hungry, and being too lazy to go down the stairs to grab something, I tried to ignore my stomach.Then, a memory struck me. I remembered I had a can of potato chips in my room!

I immediately rushed to grab it, and upon opening the can, I noticed that the chips were in disarray. Due to using too much of my brain power for academic related purposes, I decided to arrange them neatly in a stack.

Happily, I poured everything out on my open Math textbook and began stacking the chips up, eating a few along the way. After I was done, I dropped them back into the can.

Due to the fact that I had been munching on the chips for the past few days, only a negligible amount was left. Therefore, the @#$&$@$ chips ended up in a bigger mess than before.

I gave up, since the chips obviously didn't sympathise with my plight as an overworked student. They should've talked in their crunchy voices and warned me of the abject stupidity of the situation.

Looking back, I'd just realised the utter ludicrousness of the above paragraph. So pretend you didn't read about me whining that the chips should've warned me, as chips are non-living beings, and do not have a larynx to make any sound even remotely human.

Anyway, these chips did more harm than good, because I'm now thirsty. Oh,and I'm using the computer, which means I need to use electricity, which means that I'm contributing to global warming. And Internet connection signifies the need for radio waves, which will dull the brain.

Great. Now I am going to be a puerile being due to being tech-savvy. F*cking brilliant.

And I'm STILL thirsty.

Lately I've been searching for good Taiwanese dramas to watch (preferably romantic--it's such a great inspiration for poems!) and I've been forced to not continue watching some relatively passable dramas. One good example is Meteor Garden I.

Reason? Oh, it's because I cannot stand Barbie Xu and Vic Chou.

Love Magician? I cannot stand Dao Ming.

I have no idea why, but every time I see Barbie Xu, I just want to use something heavy to break her face in. The same goes for Vic Chou. (Sorry Vic Chou fans, but this is a secondary source, unreliable as it contains personal opinions)

Oh, and you know those beach scenes where the characters play with the water or run along the coastline? I don't get what's so fun in that, especially if it's on an Australian beach, because shallow waters tend to have poisonous sea snakes.

Well, getting bitten by a sea snake might be mildly entertaining, I suppose. Entertaining to watch.

Stupid beach scenes. Be more original, okay?!

I cannot stand most local dramas as they are corny, sappy, and have draggy storylines and cliches. While it may be hard to write a script, PLEASE DO come up with something new.

And it's always the same faces. Fiona Xie, Felicia Chin, Fann Wong, Zoe Tay, you name it, we've got it.

Anyway, I just want to say that my dislike for Barbie is not just skin deep. If I see anyone with an appearance that has an inch of similarity to Barbie Xu, I also get the urge to break their face.

It's inexplicable. Just like how students hate homework, and how I ha- dislike certain teachers.

I would also like to include Fahrenheit in the list of showbiz people I don't like.And Jiro as well. I want to implant a chip into his head and make him clean the floor with his tongue like a dog. (Sorry Fahrenheit fans)

------------------------------------

Okay, now let's talk about other things.

Like what I would do if I am antagonised physically by a person.

Basically, I would report it to the teacher. It's not that I'm a wimp, I have justified reasons for doing so.

1) My hands won't be sullied by revenge, therefore I am the victim, and hopefully the D.M. will note it into the BETA system. Potential schools and universities/ bosses may note it down, and therefore they don't get the job they want, or remain unemployed. It will affect them in a long run, while I smile down at them, flushed with success and money(I hope).

2) I just can't be bothered by the lesser people. They don't understand my vocabulary, therefore it will be a waste of my time. Besides, I won't gain anything by winning a fight with the lesser capable. I won't even feel satisfied.

3) I would wait until I am successful in business or law, then if they own companies, I would smply buy over the company and force them to leave. Then they'll lose everything. The cost of living has gone up, and without an income, tee hee hee...

Who says money can't make you happy?

*tosses One million US dollars in the air and watches crowd jostle each other to pick up the precious notes*

I know what I want for Christmas!!!!!

I want a PSP slim and Lite!

If I can get it, I want a laptop.

Okay, on to more scholary things!

I can now readmost Hiragana characters accurately, and WITHOUT romanji. But the thing is, I'm not very fast.

I shall now conquer the Katakana chart! Mwahaha! And I shall be invicible!

*becomes solemn*

But the thing is, though I can read it, I don't know the meaning of the words.

*watches as readers promptly get shot in the head --> x_X *

I do get confused over some hiragana, and being able to resd the hiragana is one thing, and being able to write it is another thing.

For example, if outold me the japanese word for 'envelope', I wouldimmediately scribble it down in Romanji, not hiragana as I can definitely read morefluently with Romanji.

And I've been getting splitting headaches immediately after Japanese class, particularly if I'm in a moving vehicle.

Authoress' note: Kindly refrain from reading select portions of the below post if you aren't familiar with Japanese terms.

AHHH

I hate hiragana!!!!! Especially the stupid 'fu', 'bu' and 'pu' characters!!!! They are so freaking hard to write!!!!!!

*Takes a dagger and stabs*

stupid, stupid things.

Katakana looks easier to write. I suggest that if you don't have good handwriting (like me)you shouldn't even be learning Japanese, as writing it is pure hell.

I anyhow write one, don't care, it's not calligraphy class anyway.

Anyway I'm back to watching ISWAK, it's kinda romantic now, but I have a strange outbreak of giggles every time the male lead interacts with the female lead.

Wait. Giggles?

*looks down at pants, and suddenly notices it's pink*
*looks at bubble tea, it's strawberry flavoured*
*reaches for tissue paper, and notices it's flowery*
*face pales*

NOOOO!!!!! I AM SO NOT GOING TO BE GIRLY! I CAN NEVER SUBMIT MYSELF TO THE STANDARDS OF FLOWERS AND PINK AND FLUFFY, ER, BUNNIES!

But bunnies are cute. As long as they are alive, not imprinted on wallets.

Speaking of wallets, my wallet is pink.

Anou....

It was dark when I rummaged in my closet for a pair of pants after my shower, so it's excusable. But I had this urge to drink strawberry flavoured bubble tea (like sometimes I have the urge to throttle a person), so there's an explanation.

I'm a tomboyish bitch and proud of it. I'm the only girl in my class that reads digital times, drools at hand phones, gushes over how that laptop is oh so sleek and sexy and so desirable, and strokes my Harry Potter book lovingly.

You get it. I'm not normal. Most hormonal normal females would be drooling over actors, gushing over boys, and have their pencil cases embossed with pooh and other characters.

Who was the idiot who said women should be submissive to the other sex anyway? I want to resurrect him to torture him, and make him die a slow and painful death.

Oh, and I'm the renowned violent-kia (Larry gave me that name when he heard me gushing over torture chamber II) and am the most thick-skinned, direct, stubborn person you've probably met. Dozoyoroshiku onegaishimasu! *puts forward hand for you to shake*

*returns to grumbling unhappily about Japanese*

They should make romanji a standard form of Japanese.

P.S/ This is my 100th post! Hyaku!I'm so brilliant. Let us celebrate the centuntry (100th entry. Made this word up myself.) of this blog! Woo hoo it's anniversary.*Pops champagne, and offers frothy liquid in slender glasses* CHEERS!

Note that this is a perfunctory post.

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Can't be bothered about the chinese. But can someone tell me what to do with the stupid family anf riends project? I think I lost the paper.

'Fuck' would be the most appropriate word to describe my fustrations.

Yes, I'm recovered within a day! Isn't that wonderful?

Now I can sit in front on the computer and watch ISWAK like crazy...LOL.

I don't really like the main female character, she was too stupid for my tastes (yeah, I hate bimbos,so get out if you are one.) but the male lead was okay, and the acting was passable, the plot okay-okay (for o xiang ju, that is).

But I did enjoy laughing at certain people's misfortune. It's seriously amazing how an earthquake can occur, and oh-so-conveniently your new house is the only one affected. Ridiculous.

Anyway, I would like to take this opportunity to recommend ISWAK for die-hard romantics, supporters of the actors, or people who generally like laughing at stupid people.

After this series is over, I'm going to watch Romantic Princess (It rocks. The storyline was quite good, and the fact that I like Angela Chang's singing helped.)

Okay, now I shall talk about English since I have nothing to do.

For me, English grades are as unpredictable as the waves of the ocean, and the winds. One day I'll outshine the others, but the next I'll be yet another leaf in a meadow-- ordinary, with perhaps 5% above average.

II may know my vocabulary now, I may be the one with the best command of English now, but one day everyone will come to know these vocabulary and learn them well. It'll become a game of memory -- to see who can remember the most and use it the best.

So, my goal for next year is to--stick to the topic of the sentence, and write with more emotion. Oh, and not flunk the summary while I'm at it. I'm bad at summaries as I am very long-winded. And stick to the word limit.

I seriously need to remember my Chinese vocabulary. I'll be happy even if I score a B3.For Chinese essay, I hope to score a B (or A), and for the paper, I need to do well in the summary.

I need to maintain my Mathematics, improve my Science, try not to fall asleep while revising my Geography and maintain my English Literature and History.

Speaking of Geography and history, they are both humanities, so you'd expect that if one does best in either, they must also do as well the the other. For some absurd reason, I'm actually more interested in History than Geography. Maybe it's Mr Bercury. All hail him--the role model teacher who proved that homework is not necessary to achieving good grades! (That's right. He never did give us any homework, only the necessary projects. And even if he did give us homework (which was super rare) he never collected it anyway)

Teacher,s, especially you, Yang meh, should learn from him. The world would be happier then.

Now I am officially sick.

After bouncing around and (almost) verbally attacking people in the day, I did not show any signs of being sick in the afternoon. However, tired out in school, I started to sniff.

Now it had developed into a full-blown runny nose. Brilliant. And I hate Panadol (for no reason other than the fact that's it's powdery and white and over commercialised)

Urgh. It's irritating me now, considering I have bimbo idiots to handle (a.k.a. Xiaoyu, she mutated overnight, and she caught me at a bad time where I can't really be bothered to give any sympathy)

She's sick too, she says she's having a fever or 39 degrees Celsius. Well, at least you are just feeling hot--better than not being able to breathe properly and having to pant like a dog.

Nothing air-con and a cold shower can't cure...

If you aren't down with Malaria or dengue fever or any other potentially threatening diseases, that is.

At least I'm only left with the Chinese newspaper cuttings and the du shu bao gao to do--I've finished the rest. Oh, and after that, I'll be back to that awful Japanese class.

I know it's too early to judge, but when my mother said it was located in a business centre, I was expecting a sleek confection of steel and glass, standing out proudly, gleaming against the blue horizons!

Little did I expect...









Here are some parts of the building (first floor, second floor, lift lobby, not in order)





Lift Lobby ceiling



This is one of the paths we had to walk under to get to the lifts..

Wanna shop here? No guarantee it won't collapse anytime any bury you in a pile of metal and rubble...




The oh-so-wide walkway, uncovered with debris and dust. Very lively eh?

I wasted 2hours of my precious youth travelling back and forth just to look at the Japanese school. To my horror, it was stark white, without a splash of colour. The interior was arranged primly in tables that looked like the PSLE exam hall. It reminded me of detention rooms, cheerless and malicious.

And I'll be spending 3 hours there everday for 2 weeks. GAWD.

It better be worth it. I KNEW I should have gone to orchard road, at least it contains some life, life that doesn't comprise of office workers and their stern faces. I can already imagine my classmates--serious people with pinched faces, doing everything methodically, with straight postures. And the teacher would be an old hag or a young person who looked like a commander of Singapore Army.

And I'll be the only giggly idiot in the class who hasn't even memorised her hiragana characters, and takes FOREVER to learn a simple phrase. Great.

And I hope I'll get rid of this runny nose soon. It's pissing me off, but I can't go around scolding viruses, can I?

Maybe it's my imagination going in overdrive. I hope I meet some nice people there.

I'm one. Though I do not sit in front of the television and gawk at the programs, I watch my shows on youtube.

I've been watching Meteor Garden I (Yes I know it has been showcased in 2001, big deal, I didn't understand dramas or love triangles then, ok?!) And it has been a great source of inspiration (I guess).

I just realised how much I cannot stand Barbie Xu in this drama. Every time she fakes those tears, or glares, defiant, or does anything even remotely wimpy, I just feel like smashing in her insipid face.

Did she undergo plastic surgery for the nose or something? It looks kinda unnatural (Maybe it's me). I don't know, but I'm not on a roll of sympathy lately (NOTHING beats Devil Beside You and My Lucky Star! NOTHING!) because the acting is nottoo good.

After attending those English Speech and Drama courses, of course I'm more familiar and aware of one's acting. (Yeah, mine sucks, I know, no point giving your condolences or I will smash your skull open with a parang) I can just SEE that they are saying their lines for the sake of saying them (Check out Man Of the House, showcased every Mon-Fri, 7.00p.m., Channel 8) and you'll get what I mean.

God, I hate that damn drama (the current one on hannel 8)

Their theme song already pisses me off. The fact that they aren't good-looking is one thing. Their script SUCKS (so bloody draggy, no one is interested in hearing you weep over your lost wife, boo-hoo), the acting's HORRIBLE (check out the above paragraph) and you can totally imagine the director telling them :Stand here. Move across the table. Lean towards him. It's annoying.

Did I mention I wanted to wallop specific people? Thank God it's ending soon, I don't think I can survivce another soppy episode.

I AM PISSED OFF, FUCKING ANNOYED, affronted, antagonized, bitter, chafed, choleric, convulsed, cross, displeased, enraged, exacerbated, exasperated, ferocious, fuming, furious, galled, hateful, heated, impassioned, incensed, indignant, inflamed, infuriated, irascible, irate, ireful, irritable, irritated, maddened, nettled, offended, outraged, passionate, piqued, raging, resentful, riled, sore, splenetic, storming, , tumultuous, turbulent, uptight, vexed, and wrathful.

And yes, they are all synonyms. Got a problem. Get your answer through my dagger *shoves it near eye*

All my poems STINK because I just cannot put emotion in them.

AND I DUNNO WHAT DOES XIAO YU MEAN BY "EMOTIONAL"!!!!

So I'm bugging everyone on MSN to help comment on my poems. Ooh, Gloria is online.

Sorry Gloria. Sorry for bugging you. I'm just really antsy about it (NOT angsty). Anyway, she said my poems were good and had emotion (Damn you, Xiaoyu, you said it had no emotion...you are SO gonna regret it when I help you out of your fashion disaster...)

Excuse me while I go into giddy whoops of rabid fangirlish squeals. Ahem. *Goes into a corner*

KYYYAAAAA!OMGOMGOMG MY POEMS ARE PRAISED!!!!KYAAAAAAA!!!OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG*jumps around excitedly* KYYYAAA I'M DELIRIOUS WITH JOY!!!!KYYYYAAAAA!

Ahem. Sorry. *mad grin*

I am just so happy! I mean, even if you have someone criticizing your works, one thing just flashes in the author's brain --that someone actually BOTHERS to read your work. So even if I get a comment that says, brush up on your spelling (which won't happen, but I digress) I will still be smiling for minutes on end. If I get a GOOD comment, (as in, they list why your poem was good) I will be ridiculously happy and the world would look then times more vibrant and colourful, and they are no longer in black and white hues!

Ahem. I'm rambling again. But it feels so shiok, even better than a week without homework!

Okay, I correct myself. NOTHING is better than a week without homework.

Today I must've been on a lucky strike--I wrote a new poem, entitled 'thief', about...well, a thief. The title is self-explanatory. And if you do not know what's a thief, well, God bless you.

They were still children, full of hopes about their future. One wants a family, filled with warmth and laughter. What becomes of her hopes?



4000 women being shipped out to a foreign country, faced with threats, insecurities and ill-treatment. There might be many more, only they are hidden in dingy corners, away from glittering society. This is only one of their horror stories.



They were just mere children, some even as young as 2. They get snatched from their parents, and are forced to work as slaves to ply the sex trade. They are psychologically damaged, and have thus lost their trust of the world. The government? Oh, it's made up of corrupt officials (some police officials run such brothels) and callous people who team up. Word has it that sex trade is a more profitable business than drugs. The girls are afraid of the police because they will be raped as soon as they get back to the police station.Most girls are Vietnamese, from the Delta. They are trafficked to Cambodia as there are few laws. The treatment of ethnic Vietnamese in Cambodia is the real reason police let this happen. They victimize the victims.



Regardless of race, language or religion, women are still being abused for no other reason than being women.

The Roman Catholic Church is no exception.

Ancient Vatican records and forgotten Latin texts [show] that the church has recognized the problem of abuse by priests for at least 1,700 years and has failed to address it successfully.

STOP THE TRADE ALTOGETHER!

Seriously, what's up with Tuesdays?!

Please read the below post for further reference.

Because my script was good (or so the teacher said...personally, I think it sucks as I didn't bother to put in any effort)we are going to enter a competition for the advertisment (Speak Good English campaign). So we've picked out the restaurants we were going to film at, yadda yadda, and decided that we will film it on a Tuesday.

Then I come home, eat lunch, slack while reading other's blogs. I turned my speakers off so I would not hear the music. I soon heard my ringtone and picked it up, Vivian was on the line. She asked me whether I was free on 13th November (Tuesday!)and said that Miss Lim wanted to ask us out for a movie.

WAH LAO. I should have arranged it on a Wednesday or something, because I don't think I can go...

Hang on for a moment...I didn't ask what time...

As long as it isn't 11 plus to 2 plus it is fine (not accounting in the travel time needed to go to VivoCity)

Hmm...

I can't believe I'm sitting here in Chung Cheng, in computer lab 4, and typing this.

This, and the fact that it is now 08:49 a.m. in the morning.

Oh, did I mention I'm doing my Math holiday homework as well? Joy, I'm becoming an extremely boring person.

Today I was dragged out of bed bleary-eyed, when my maid screamed at me to get up and take a shower, then go to school. Oh, and the fact that there's CCA today.

Surprised and wondering if I do have a physic maid, I asked her how she knew. She said that the SMS message Angelica sent me was clearly displayed on my phone.

WTH!

Even if an SMS message is displayed on someone's phone, you don't go read it. It is RUDE. Please respect the person's privacy.

It is just like someone taking a shower, but forgetting to lock the door. You would not, especially if you happen to be from the opposite sex of that person, open the door and take a peek right? Common sense!

So anyway, I rushed here, and I got here at 08:09 a.m.

Then, a funny thing happened.

See, Mr Chia told some people that CCA started at 8 a.m. (the correct time) while Winston, our senior, told others that CCA started at 9 a.m.

Therefore, half the class turned up at 8 while the others are yet to arrive. Hence, the teacher decided "to be fair to others" and start CCA at 9.

DAMN. I should have stayed in bed. I'm not exactly a morning person, because in the morning my brain just REFUSES to function.

Learning just SMSed me.

Chanel.i will be a little late.sorry the bus.have nt arrived..so sorry.

The above SMS has not be edited to proper spelling and grammar to retain the original 'flavour' of the SMS.

Nevermind. Does anyone know how to do this question:


Factorise the following algebraic expression completely.

2b) 21a - 12ab + 24ac

I have no idea where to begin: Is the answer ( 3a )( 7 - 4b + 8c ) ?

Looks correct. But I really don't know. I have forgotten how to factorise already T.T

Minutes later
-----------------------------------

OKAY! Finally planned all for the advertisment competition we (me, learning, angelica) are taking part in!

Now all that remains is for us to call the restaurants, get the actors' consent and practise fooling around shooting with the camera!

Usually when I pissed about something, it's about me. But now I am a fledgling feminist, and proud of it.

Warning: The below contains some disturbing websites/content that pertain to a sensitive nature. Read at your risk. Do not proceed if you are weak-hearted.

Now, let's get it straight.

I dislike people. But I dislike males more. Believe me, I do have a reason.

Rape. Molest. Underage prostitution. Sexual grooming. Guess who it happens to? That's right, women. Guess who's enjoying it? That's right, men.

I AM JUST SO ANGRY AT THESE BASTARDS.

(BTW, If you think of women as sexual objects, I suggest you stay far,far away or you'll get cursed.)

Ok...

Today Xiaoyu told something new to me on MSN...Female genitalia circumcision.

What exactly is it?

It is the removal of the huge part of the female genitals (the cliotoris labia minora and labia majora) to prevent sexual pleasure (in females)
Done WITHOUT anesthetic.

Ouch.

And the girls are usually young, like around 2-9. (Maximum age 9).FGM is carried out with knives, scissors, scalpels, pieces of glass or razor blades. Sometimes they even use acid...

And then they'll stitch it up, tie the girl's legs together for TWO weeks to let it heal. They put some sort of herb to help it, but science has proven that it is not effective. Instead, it makes it more painful.

There's a website on it.

http://www.middle-east-info.org/league/somalia/fmgpictures.htm

Documentaries are made about this topic, but people are still not aware enough.

Xiaoyu gave me this youtube video...rather disturbing.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=aifZHn4j658

And if anyone DARES to make another sexual situation concerning women ever, I shall ive him a long lecture, then tellhim all the gory details, and plan his torture, slowly.

Imagine. This is happening in RURAL areas, where they go at it like rabbits, and there, the population is pratically tripling.

90% of the women have this treatment. Apparently it's some sort of standard in those areas.

Oh, the effects are not so devastating. They get traumatized, get infected ten times as easily, are paranoid of people, go insane, suffer from depression, die, it's no biggie to uncaring males right?

In the conditions under which female circumcision is generally performed in Africa, even the less extensive types of genital cutting can lead to potentially fatal complications, such as hemorrhage, infection and shock. The inability to pass urine because of pain, swelling and inflammation following the operation may lead to urinary tract infection.

I'll like to see your face when it becomes a world standard to get castrated...

Childbearing is more difficult. And you thought that giving birth was hard. Imagine if this was done to you, your muscles will be raw and thin. The risks are higher, and there's an increased possiblity you will die too.

On wedding nights, they cut the stitches open so that the men can get all the pleasure they want while the woemn bleed.

Underappreciate women? GOOD. I'M EXTREMELY happy that the divorce rate is increasing. This time, it's women divorcing men now. Women are more highly educated than men, have better careers, earn much more money. Reason cited by women arethat their male companions are not contributing enoguh to the household.

*smirks*

May all the women in Africa get higher education that their dequilent men. May they hold better careers. May they migrate out of the country.

I hope that the women would be scarce so that there will be an excess of men, and there are not enough women to reproduce. They'll die out. Good. We society have no use for these burdens who drag us down. I can't believe that the money we donate to charity is actually going to the table to these low-lives to fill their stomach so that they can commit more aduacious acts!

To those monks out there: Good for you. At least you won't rape women.

Hi. This is what I want to tell those 'emo' people out there....

Yes, I am a person of pride. I'll lie straight through my teeth to save face.

Do you know those moments where you are cruising along innocently, wanting to tag people and you read people's tagboards out of curiosity?

Ok, I admit that I'm probably the only one who bothers to do that. I just find it interesting--the event's of a person's life, her thoughts/feelings, her friends, etc., etc. It is like a life movie played out before my eyes---in a world where I will always remain as an interested viewer, never allowed to participate.

Yeah, I just realised how empty my life is.

I'm proud, but come to think of it, what's there to be proud of? I'm top 10 in class academically, 85th position in level, and the top 10% of 2006 PSLE cohort. I'm not frivolous or vapid---I hate shopping, and pink. I'm not drop dead gorgeous or even remotely pretty, in fact, I'm more on the tom boyish side. I don't have a lady's demeanor, but I have an English vocabulary that would put my classmates to shame (but that's nothing, they will soon catch up), I write poems, but they aren't good. I don't have a wide circle of friends, and am not 'popular'.

All I'd ever wanted to be was to graduate with flying colours,then go to law school, get a certificate, then be a distinguished lawyer.

But what next after I've accomplished all this? What happens when I am old and have to retire? What happens to my social life?

I've just realised I don't really like people that much, and tend to mistrust them at first. (They say, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.) Sure, I look like an interactive person who will show off just to get that little amount of attention. I may seem open and rude, direct. But I just have this fear that, if I let anybody too close, I might destroy them, or even destroy myself. It's getting easier to be someone I am not.

I'm egotistic, only corncerned with my welfare. How else to survive in this corrupted world? I'm not even sure whether I have the strength to continue being a catholic--I'm undergoing confirmation.

I'm not the elite. Even others, having a better PSLE score than me are having great social lives. It is me against the world out there--and I'm fighting a losing battle.

Some of you have never experienced the true feeling of being left out. You claim to be sad, sometimes trespassing into the 'emo' section of life--but the way I see it, you still have people there for you.

Great. Now I am whining like a helpless kid. It will be nice if I am emotionless, then I won't be able to feel the cruelty of people. I won't even care about prostitues being smuggled from other countires, then being murdered by her customers. Nothing will be a challenge for be until death.

I don't like people. Maybe you can say I am a misanthrope. But I think I am actually quite scared of people, and what they might do to me.

I am just a pawn in life, a chess game played by others. I am the lone feather being swept along in the sea, helpless to the current's whims and wants. I understand, I will never ever triumph.

Because, sometimes, by having no hope at all, you won't be dissappointed. By not trusting, you'll never get hurt.

Yes, I AM such a horrible friend....

Let me tell you the whole story.

Now, where to begin? Ah, let's start with the accursed Math Holiday Homework worksheet.

Weeks ago, I accidentally left it on Hui Ting's table (it WAS end of year, and unfortunately for Huiting, she was selected to ease my boredom as I had no more opportunity to show my obvious genius....But we shall talk about this another time.)

So, anyway, when school ended, I was so happy at being released I rushed out, the sling bag bumping me behind the knee. Hui Ting had to stay back for CCA.

I think HOURS after I had gone, she went back to the classroom for some obscure reason and saw the piece of paper lying there innocuously. Thinking it was hers, she took it home.

It was then, on a fine Saturday, I whined to her on MSN that I had misplaced my Math worksheet and I didn't know where the hell it decided to gallivant off to. It was then we realised that my worksheet was with her...but never mind, Drama Night she can return to me. (Which was yesterday.)

And, with a strange twist of events, TA-DAH! She forgot to bring it. Oh well. I wanted to start on my holiday homework, so I requested her to bring it to me today, and that we would meet at Marine Parade Community Library at one thirty. Due to the fact that I slept at 11 plus last night, and was RUDELY awoken at 5:45, I was considerably tired, because the slave driver made us rehearse the damn play over and over again, I wanted to kill her, yet I felt as if I had no emotion left in me. Anyway, I forgot it in my fatigue.

Today, I was woken up rudely at the unearthly hour of 9 a.m. (I need at least 10 hours or more to be happy) and went about my usual things, yadda yadda, tried to write a sestina (which I failed MISERABLY in), ate lunch, then had some problems pertaining to the large intestine and the stomach. After I was done from the toilet, it was tuition time.

I din't know why, but during tution, I experience a vague feeling like I had forgotten something. I started to look for my handphone, BUT I REALISED IT WAS NOT IN MY ROOM. After tuition, (around 3:45) I called my phone number in a futile attempt to try and locate it. My father answered, and I knew then I had dropped it in my father's car last night...

Shrugging, I returned to the computer to struggle with my sestina, when Wei Qi remindered me on MSN. I then realised I had left poor Hui Ting waiting there for 3 hours plus straight.

Immediately, I chiong-ed down the stairs, called my parents to ask permission, (How hard is it just to press a bloody goddamn button to answer a godforsaken call?!) when I got permission from my mother, and chiong-ed to the library.

I decided to take the back entrance, where I spotted Hui Ting silhouette against the red pillar easily. (Ok, not that easily. Frankly, I thought she was a thin young woman waiting for her junior college boyfriend to pick her up...That is, until I walked closer.) She was glancing in the direction of the bridge every now and then.

Happily (for me) I had gotten my Math worksheet back, relatively unharmed.

Wah, some people really do have patience and endurance. I admit I do not. If you left me waiting there for even five minutes, I would be furious. One hour, and we'll see whether you can survive the verbal onslaught of words...not to mention me chasing you around, and then bitching about you on my blog...

That's right. Patience is not my virtue. And neither is having a good memory (I can't remember how much I spent yesterday, or what I ate for dinner).

Now I'm still feeling guilty about it...and fustrated with the sestina. Now excuse me while I vent my anger at the keyboard.

It was, indeed, a night of drama. Literally and not literally.

I bet you are wondering why I am contradicting myself here. But you'll soon find out. In due time.

It was the final night, and we had been preparing it for six weeks. Frankly, as I waited silently in the curtained area of stage right, I was not nervous. As I peered out at the massess of parents out there--proud parents to support their offspring, I thought I saw impatience flickering on their faces as they waited expectantly. My co-actors, however, were having a mini freak-out as they tried to lie to themselves that all would go well.

We exchanged hugs as if a huge disaster was approaching us. Then we heard the voice of the emcee, followed by the dimming of the lights. I knew then that itwas time.

That realization brought waves of panic, rushing to every fibre of my body. It had begun to sink in. After the scene, apporxiamately 3 minutes later, I would be out there with my act, in front of many faces looking on stage. I had begun to pace back and forth, my high heels making soft thuds when it came into contact with the polished wooden panels.

Soon, the lights dimmed yet again, and the backstage crew rushed out to set the props up.I walked quickly to my seat, my bun wobbling. I clasped my hands in front of me as I faced my 'students'. On the outside, I was a picture of composure, but inside, I was in turmoil. I was concious of my heavy makeup, I felt like a piece of toast, lavishly slathered with butter, jam and other condiments. I forced a smile as I said my lines.

Within minutes, my scene was over. After some more time, the drama was concluded happily. Unfortunately, we were hered yup into the drama studio where we waited for other classes to finish.

It was then my parents chose to show up and our BELOVED chinese teacher, Yang meh, took the opportunity to subtly complain. I was too tired to give her mental plastic surgery then, but alkl the same, I prayed that some great impetus would send a meteor come crashing into yang meh's head, breaking her thick skull and shattering it into yellowed bone, while her greasy brain and other bodily fluids stained the ground, while the hot rock made her features melt like rubber....

So I'm violent. Big deal. Boo-hoo.

After everyone had gone, we were sent down to the exhibition room to wait with other classes. A woman who looked like she was anal-retentive barked orders at us, wanting absolute silence. Well, if you want absolute silence, why don't you try going to a graveyard. I promise there'll be absolute silence you so quest for.

In fact, it'll be so silent, you'll long for something constant in humanity....especially when a serial murderer or rapist creeps up behind you.

呵呵。。。

Ahem. I re-read this, and I decided it'll do. I'll save my rants for later.