Now available at mr-heng.livejournal.com.

Has anyone noticed how Singaporeans hate each other? We complain about how people behave on public transport, how people litter, how people use public restrooms, how service staff treat them, how customers treat them, complain about their colleagues/classmates/schoolmates and the list goes on. If you noticed that Singaporeans like to complain, it's true but that's beside the point I'm trying to put across here.
I notice how my fellow countrymen give each other dirty looks when the MRT train approaches the platform, how they stare/glare at occupied tables at food centres and food courts to intimidate the occupants into vacanting. The evicted leave and go somewhere to whine about how they were intimidated into speeding up their meal.
I just had dinner and blood from my brain is going down south-wards to my stomach. I lost my train of thought. Er... I'll get back to you.

I'm so manly. Last night, I pulled my bathroom door clean off it's catches. I spent half an hour hugging it trying to fix it back. I think something broke. It's now hanging precariously only on 3 of the 4 corners.

After three official days with my new posting, I learnt a lot and there's still much more for me to pick up. I hate being in four walls. I hate what I'm doing now. The other maids I left behind are saying I'm having a good life now but what do they know? The madams in the lesser kitchens protect them from the people I have to face every day now. They don't know how great their simple lives are in the Fruit & Biscuits Kitchen compared to the Imperial Kitchen.

This is why Saffy was so against Amanda changing hairstylists. Feeling too broke and too rushed for time to pay Titus a visit, I went to the barber I visted eons back. I needed a quick fix on the sides and back to appease my eagle-eyed CSM (Company Sergeant Major) who threatens me weekly that I will be "punisheded". Well, Uncle Barber (Okay, I don't know his name) tried to be funky and trim my asymmetrical fringe but ended up mangling it. Can't blame him. I let him finish up what he needed to do then I ran like the wind back home. I sat myself down in front of the mirror with scissors in hand and began fixing the wrongs. No texture? MAKE IT HAPPEN. Mangled fringe? FIX IT. Thank God I know a thing or two about doing hair thanks to the years of being vain. Who says being vain is a one-person thing? I put my skills to use on other people who actually bothered to ask for help. Anyway, I'm okay with my hair now. Sigh. I'm sorry, Titus! The $33 each time is really worth it! I swear I won't cheat on you again!

Hello I am no longer a combat engineer a.k.a Bao Ka Liao (chemical defence? check! explosives? check! deterrent obstacles? check! close combat training? check! Everything you can do, I can do better~) because I am going to be a pen-wielding, keyboard typing, mouse-clicking clerk. I'm not overjoyed. In fact, I'm feeling ambivalent. I can't bear to part with my buddies because we've been through so much together in the Suay-est of the Suay-est of the Suay-est. The Kingdom has present itself in a new perspective. I must keep my eyes wide open.

I've always been intrigued by the human mind. Mind you, it's the mind (Oh, my gosh! I can make puns!) I'm interested in, not the brain. The mind is like a box within which all a person's thinking done, where quirks of a character is developed, where all the personality, rationality is formed.
Everyday, I find new instances of wonder. 'What's he doing?' 'Why's he doing it this way?' Why do I think it's not being done right? Why am I unable to accept another rationale? My mind processes in a different manner too.
Everyone sees things and matters in a different perspective. Even literally, everyone's eyes perceive different amounts of light. Some see certain colours more vividly, some see better at night. Just like a person's mind, which is a mental 'eye' of sorts. I see more logic in matters being handled in one way rather than another. Someone else might prefer another manner.
Six billion people exist (although we have more than double the number of chickens, they're practically negligible in the intelligence context) so the probability of finding someone who totally agrees with me or you is very low. Should there be such an occurance, could be a freak of nature or stroke of luck. Since I myself said I'll nev er find someone who can agree a hundred percent with me, I must accept that everyone else around me is different. They are not of a higher or lower level than I am (insert smiley face), they're just different. Or it could be just me who's different.
I have to learn to let it go or my heart will just overwork, collapse and give up on me. That can't be a good thing, right? Letting go of differences also helps life feel smoother and easier. Don't sweat the small stuff. We'll all be happier.

I'm cheating on blogspot. Shh! I got a LiveJournal account just to read locked entries of friends' but I've decided to write on it actively as a separate thing. That just means one thing: that I'm a blog-slut and that I'm so full of crap, I write four totally different blogs. Wait, that's two things. Anyway, click here to access my LiveJournal. :)

In a circle I go
Round, round, round, round, round

You hold my hand and I'm twirled
Twirl, twirl, twirl, twirl, twirl

There's the feeling I'm lost
An awareness inside
An intangible state of mind
Armour of the purest guise

Your's, your's, your's, your's, your's

On a star-filled summer noon, I had a dream.
I dreamt of angels that brought not joy and peace, but insanity and profound restlessness; not songs from heaven, but gospels of the eighteen levels; not on wings of the finest and purest down, but wings of skin and bones like the archfiend's.
Of a dream, it is weird. Of a nightmare, it is pleasant. Of a treaty, it is useless. Of a compass, it is pointless. The pointlessness is true in simply being.

The being of a son, a son of this kingdom, of the heavens, as a mandate. The woeful mandate, to fulfill what is his life yet not his right. The right to freedom, the right to flee. To flee from the downward spiral of self-indulgence, of hedonism, of narcism. The downward spiral spurned by the hands of Kings-in-waiting, waiting for the fall of a God after which they shall ascend and replace. The pointlessness. The pointlessness of it.

I pity their chase, the chase on cobblestones built from the spirits of those who died ineffectual. Don't they see it? The two planes of which they cannot cross. The Gods' to their's and their's to the Gods'. The pointlessness, the pointlessness.
I am here as a captive, held in Pandora's box. I experience fright and terror, knowing the evil within. The devil beside me. I wish to assert my right to flee but it is pointless. The pointlessness.

The pointlessness of simply being here.

Of a palace, there must be a kingdom. Of a kingdom, there must citizens. Of citizens, there must be leaders. Of leaders, there must be the able. Not true. This Kingdom is made up of Chimneys. Chimneys who see themselves as Kings; The true Kings may see themselves as Gods. The true Gods may want to alleviate the situation for the Everyday Man but their good words don't reach Earth. Their gospels are up to the Chimneys to interprete and only in their favour, not the Everyday Man the goodness was meant for. In this cycle, the true Gods think that the Everyday Man should be having comfortable lives but the truth is far from. The Kingdom does not need such selfish workers but in a sea of darkness, a candle's a sun. And the selfish men have no where else to go to like an orphan who's found a good home. Please change my status, take me away from this falsified service, return me to the place where there is no self-gain.

Sis and I went to meet Candice and June at the Salvation Army thrift store along Upper Serangoon Road to do some shopping. Lots of interesting finds!




We then made our way to town to shop, have dinner and chill. We had our dinner at a quaint Japanese restaurant in Far East Plaza but it stressed us out totally with talk about the male chef slamming dishes on the table, scolding customers and tossing his sushi knife around. We were so afraid that everyone tried their best to finish their food (I did!) so the chef wouldn't think we didn't like it for fear of offending him (and having a knife in our skulls). After dinner, we fled, everyone in one piece. We then walked around and shopped before settling down at NYDC to rest, have refreshments and people-watch. Not in order of merit.



So yummy...



Compulsory pictures of myself and the courteous insertion of one picture of June and Candice. :)

Up to thirty percent off selected items.

Renaissance of pop music? More like the death of it... You know record companies are lying about not earning much when they have enough moo-lah to splash on unworthy projects like this.