Once upon a time, I made a mental note to not blog about things that are depressing or upsetting or generally producing an effect opposite to that of ecstasy. I don't think I have kept to this mental note rule. Today, I need to consciously break it. My friend Bartholomew J. Simpson once told me rules were meant to be broken. Whatever that means, I will break this rule tonight and begin a process of crying my heart out.

The reason behind my wailing eyes and distressed state is this: university, my university, is at odds with me once again. I am not upset with the university. I am upset with myself. It seems I have a quirky talent. I have some quirky talents but this one is the most quirky of all because of its self-jeopardising characteristics. My quirky talent is that I have a great ability of doing (or not doing) things to specifically mess up my future. I control my future, and I let it die. I LET IT DIE.

As of one hour ago, a gateway to a wonderful world was closed. Had I been just one minute early, I would have made it. They say time waits for no man. I must be a man, then, because time has not waited for me. Now, not only am I without that future I dreamed of, I am also confused about my sex.

So, it seems that I tend to post many posts at once. We can call this efficiency. Or, anything else. I just thought that I would say: I really like going to supermarkets. I really like pushing the trolley in supermarkets. I really like it best when they play Christmas tunes while I push the trolley in the supermarkets. It is like a drug to me.

I'm psyched about Christmas. I'm even glad about my birthday for a change. I think it has a lot to do with getting my driving license (see two posts down for non-details). Now there is a bit of a hoo-ha between my father and I. We are disagreeing on choice of car for me. The new Jeep, which only arrives in June. Or a beetle cabriolet, which arrives anytime I want, baby! I think perhaps it is useless to get a car now since I am likely to study in Europe next year. So, whatever, I don't care!

Sad thing is, why must I spend Christmas on a different continent on a different ocean? I wish I could have all the girls I have ever loved (in a non-homosexual way, you pervert) spend Christmas with me. And I wish Fab Morretti and his band could be there. But, whatever. I don't care!

I should really get to working on my to-do list.

My To-Do List (talk about efficiency)
- Pass my driving test (done)
- Write 4 term papers (done)
- Discover myself (not yet done but in the process of doing)
- Watch Marie Antoinette (done)
- Go to India (not done)
- Find my ring (not done)
- Europe applications (not done)
- Edit that online magazine (not done)
- Clean my room (not done)

Ok, I am bored.

Enough ranting. I have been thinking again. I think there are some people who are absolutely beautiful. People who have more than looks (though they do have great looks, I assure you) but heart and mind and spirit.

I will talk about nothing in particular. Days of marathon term papers have subjected me to tedious hours of thinking up clever thesis statements to blow the fannies off my professors (there is a low chance of achieving this both literally and figuratively) in their comfortable academic offices. While everyone was fast asleep dreaming about their A+ grades and making the dean's list once again, Asya and I were thinking up ways to cheat the wordcount and still sound more brilliant than Winston Churchill. For the next five or ten minutes, I am ignoring term papers.

I realise that what I am most discontent with in university is contentment (and obviously not my own). How is it that our supposed students' union is made up of nothing more than people who harbour socialist ideals about making the student population into one big blob of plasticine that they can twist this way and that? How is it that students, especially those fresh-out-of-college-wow!-I-don't-need-a-uniform?!?! freshmen, find this to be the most exciting, most "happening", coolest place their squinty eyes have ever seen? How is it that we are supposed to be the future leaders and elites of this country, yet if we want to put up a flyer, Momma spank us if we don't get it approved by Aforementioned Students' Union? How is it that nobody sees it necessary to do anything about anything and something and everything?

Let's not get too carried away, Jeko. After all, the threat of having a huge footprint on one's arse if one so much as mentions student riots is real and pertinent but not justifiable. Nor is it justified. When was it that we took off our hats to socialsim and bade farewell to democracy? Student bodies are historically key players in the revolutions that took Asia out of the white man's burden, out of communisim and military rule, and here we are in the tewnty-first century, armed with better means than ever (wikipedia, people!) but still many students just care about turning the hallways into catwalks and joining pageants and going to Zouk on Mambo Night. There is a world to change but no one dares to.

AND IT ANNOYS ME! Even if you don't want to do anything about it, even if you don't want to take up a call to action, even if you don't know what else to expect, then why can't you just get annoyed at it too? I'm disillusioned for sure. If you have a voice, use it. If out of this, this, comes the formidable force that is to rule the world in twenty years, I need to check again what formidable means, and what it means to be a human with human rights.

"So many fish there in the sea
I wanted you, you wanted me
That's just a phase it's got to pass
I was a train moving too fast

Didn't understand what to see
Yeah, then I got a different view
It's you...no.

Wait, I'm gonna give it a break.
I'm not your friend,
I never was.
I said wait, I'm gonna give it a break.
I'm not your friend,
I never was."

an opportune moment to strike up the band and declare recess and allow brain functions to temporarily wane

I know the annual day of celebrating my birth is just around the corner like a boogie monster, lurking in the gray shadows, eyes downcast while letting that translucent darkness envelope him as he holds up a placard with "Happy Birthday" on it in Helvetica, font size 42. I don't particularly remember any fantastic or exuberant celebrations since I was a kid and all I wanted was that washing machine toy (and thank you Jackie for convincing your parents to get it for me - you will forever be remembered for this inexplicable kindness). One year I dumped a basin of dirty-feet water onto Michelle Yip's head when she got a little bit too trigger happy with the water guns and water bombs at the ubiquitous water fight. No child is complete without a water fight. No child from an inhibiting convent school life is complete without a water fight.

My birthdays have since then been a date on my mental calendar, privy only to myself, my family, and random people from Friendster and Multiply who only wish you because the internet told them too. Naturally, I have been guilty of returning the passionate favour. The fact that my birthday always fell/falls in the exam season is a little bit of a party pooping machine. I could only dream of having a party where people would show up and if they would show up, without their binded notes and textbooks trailing behind them like little baby ducklings following mama to the pond.

Tonight, I feel happy. A parcel arrived in the mail from the UK not for my father, not for my mother, not for my brother, not for Peanut/Barrel, not for Charsiewbao/Charles/Chucky, not for Toby/Runty, not for Sheep/Bumfluff, not for T-Rex/Trex/Robo/Stinko/AhFoo, but for me. Pour moi, as the French would have you say. (But be careful to say it right; they are known for being rather...particular.) A birthday gift of [insert very loud sigh here] clothes and earrings and a lovely bracelet. And a, uh, soft toy. I have never ripped apart a large envelope with that much vehemence as I did half an hour ago. The contents are now splayed across the bed like toy soldiers on a 6 year old boy's battlefield.

Knowing someone cares - that is one of the most venerated feelings of them all.

(And now, I have to fulfill my obligation of writing my 3 term papers at the speed of light and with the greatest mental capacity I can offer up.)

i poached this from saphy

3 things to do before you die
1x get married & have 4 children
1x organise the best party ever
1x bring the beatles to life and go see them

3 names you go by
1x jac
1x jacko/jeko
1x mui (do not probe further)

3 screen names you’ve had
1x iconoclasm
1x redandwhiteispink
1x jeko

3 parts of your heritage
1x balinese/javanese
1x chinese
1x curly hair

3 things that scare you
1x throwing my future away
1x waking up to find i am the only person alive
1x losing people i love

3 of your everyday essentials
1x for school: matric card, ezlink card, cashcard, nets card
1x clean underwear
1x lip balm

3 things I’m wearing right now
1X beatles t shirt
1X clean underwear
1x body lotion?

3 of your favourite bands/musical artists
1x cannot
1x answer
1x this

3 of your favourite songs
1x or
1x this
1x one

3 things you want in a relationship
1x spontaneity & surprises
1x commitment & forgiveness
1x unconditional love

2 truths and a lie
1x i like you very much
1x i like to feel free
1x it's not our fault the world is the way it is

3 physical things about the opposite sex that attract you
1x creativity
1x smell
1x ease

3 of my favourite hobbies
1x sleep
1x reading new material
1x looking at pretty photographs

3 things you want to do right now if you could do anything in the world
1x go on a holiday alone
1x go on a holiday with someone
1x be happy

3 careers you’re considering/considered
1x lawyer
1x teacher
1x diplomat

3 places you want to go on vacation
1x india, DUH
1x rome
1x bhutan

3 kids names you like
1x julian
1x sofie
1x oliver

3 ways that you’re stereotypically a girl
1x emotional/romantic
1x long haired
1x i like dresses

3 ways that you’re stereotypically a boy
1x rebellious
1x i like meat
1x i like looking at boys' clothes

you need patience to read this

We all have things we love. I was making a mental list while listening to Rogue Wave through my new (blushing now) Sennheiser earphones that my father bought me. I really am incapable of doing things on my own sometimes. Like a little girl who needs her papa to take her by the hand or let her sit on his shoulder while she parades herself before the world and winks those eyes that beg for the new Barbie doll at good old Isetan.

I love the follwing, and have tried to rank them as far as I can:
my Emporio Armani vest, my Topshop Boyfriend tee (which will soon be not wearable anymore, sadly), my cheapo flip flops, my Calvin Klein ruffle dress, my Laundry by Shelli Segal dress, my bangles from Bangkok, my tattered and torn India bag, all my vintage bags, my lovely bed from childhood days, lying in bed awake when it is raining and I'm too cold to move, naps anytime, my passport, new bedsheets, hot showers, nicely painted nails, thinking about my nose, playing racing games and screaming, a seat on the train, funny YouTube videos, Facebook, Skype, throwing stuff away, Mopiko, beer, the satisfaction of productivity, being my age, making my room smell of Apple or Eucalyptus, a surprise kiss, eating fruit, Thierry Mugler, donating money, old cartoons like Flintstones and the Jetsons, dancing, dancing with people, dancing alone, the rush from coming out of the shower and you're just freezing your royal bum off!!, choosing music on other people's iPods, the BBC, wine, looking at clothes, getting presents, taking photos, new books, old books, great books, Keats, Tennyson, comfortable silences, drain sliding in the rain, my grandfather's idiosyncracies, receiving snail mail, thinking about Mukti & Kirsten, editing people's essays for them, correcting grammar and vocabulary, listening to music from my iPod, drinking lots of water and feeling adequately hydrated (this is a bit obsessive compulsive though), wonderful car rides, overseas phone calls, getting on an aeroplane, thinking about travelling, stray cats, swimming alone, walking alone, conversations with some people, the comfort of Blue Jeans, finding like-minded souls, trying to save the world in what ways I can, Shakespeare, learning mind-blowing theories and philosophies, watching bad movies, watching good movies, the 30 minutes before I sleep when I finally get to read, pleasant surprises, reconnecting with old friends, meeting new people, meeting new amazing people, travelling, hugs, thinking about my future, knowing you exist, my family, my cats, my friends for life, my brother & mother & father and all the good times, my God.


+more

techno viking

Like a revolutionary wave that sweeps aross a continent, altering the face of an era and changing the world forever, he came and stole my heart. Who is he? Techno Viking. What does he do? Techno Viking. As deadlines loom closer, all I can think of is that man in awful '90s cut-off shorts, bulky torso rippling as he does the Para Para to Techno music and crowds follow him like he is a god.

Ridiculous.

But, oh, so highly addictive.

allaroundbackgroundsound: Electronic Supersonic - Zlad!