1. Ran into Kim the Air Stewardess at the French Film Fest and, together with Isaac, we watched Water Lilies and The Witnesses. Kim has quit her job, which she hates, and is a lot happier. She has lost some weight but is still very pretty. She remains untainted, as ingenuous as before. She is one of the few people who agree with me when I say, "Nothing--not even money--is more important than happiness." If I were straight, I'd go for her.

2. Badminton twice in two weeks; the second week was with morbidity80 and his boyfriend whom he neglected me for. And oh no no no no no my right buttock aches, which means it is developing muscles, which means my right ass will be bigger than my left. My sister saidmorbidity80 and his boyfriend are very sticky. I replied, "I don't mind, at least they're compatible and the feeling is mutual. You should have seen how morbidity80's ex stuck to him like a leech. It was quite revolting. It was like watching the princess with the golden ball and the toad that never turned into a prince. Bestiality is so not cool. Neither is a hanger-on."

3. My gym has organized a 100km challenge. The participant can only clock in 3km each time, no matter how far she runs for the day, and the first to reach 100km wins. My routine is 3-4 times a week, 30-40minutes each time, 9 to 10km/hr, averaging a distance of 5-6km for each run. AND I NAIVELY THOUGHT I WOULD WIN. But damn those housewives and retirees! They run everyday. Don't they have husbands to poison, children to pack to school, or taiji classes to go?

And so I concede defeat to mothers of three and people three times older than me. Now, housewives and retirees, you can relax, don't need to risk your life. Running can trigger heart attacks. We wouldn't want that --- do we?

4. Trevor is flying back to Singapore from Canada for a holiday. The last time he was back, it was tragic. So I texted morbidity80 andbudderfry, "See! I told you Trev only talks to us [on facebook chat] only when he is coming back. Are you ready for a grueling, irritating faux Canadian accent?"

5. Sis and I treated our cousin, Eugene, to dinner for his 21st. His dad is my uncle who had an affair with an Indonesian prostitute. I have suspected that Eugene is gay because, on Friendster, we have common gay friends, friends who are too old for him to know. He's very sensible but lacks a gay sensibility; he's a geek, doesn't club, doesn't dress up, doesn't know fashion; has nerdy, straight friends; is boring and nice; in other words, he defies all stereotypes of a gay man. After he left, my sister asked if I still thought he is gay. I replied, "If he is, then he needs to be very, very, very successful." This is not said in a mean spirit; I mean it as an observation. He lacks all the natural endowments that would make a gay man love him and women are generally less cruel and may treat him better.

Eugene told me that Samuel, our cousin, is so poor that he has to constantly drink water to sate his hunger; Sam has no money to buy food. I felt so guilty for studying at Starbucks everyday; a drink is as much as Sam's two meals.

We gossiped about Yvette (my ex-mother) too and it seems like everyone hates her. Did I tell you the 150k story? It happened a few years ago. My mother asked my millionaire aunt, "hansel25's grad studies is 150k. Do you have it?" Utter nonsense. I'm on a scholarship. How unforgiveable is that? She was not only making use of me, she was lying to her own sister and I don't even know why she needed so much money. She's evil to the core.

6. I finished reading Ali Smith's Girl Meets Boy for my Queer Book Club this Thursday. I love love love the book. The way it is written, it is beautiful, very poetic. Will update more after the book club. But these lines "screamz me!"

"Anthea, do you really think you'll change the world as single jot by vandalizing public property with slogans? You really think you'll make a single bit of difference to all the unfair things and all the suffering and all the injustice and all the hardship with a few words?"

"Yes," she says.

"Okay," I say.

1.  The new tuition student whom I met for the first time today scored 1/100 for her school essay on Women in Love. After coaching her for the first hour, I realized that she is very slow. Later I learnt from her mother that the child needed special help in primary school. How the hell does she make it to JC (high school, grade 11)?

From how the mother spoke, I detected a hint of--I don't know how to put this delicately--mental retardation. This hint is strongly supported by the fact that their Filipino maid handles the finance, showing how incapable the mother is and how foolishly, naively trusting she is. So the student's mental ability is probably inherited.

What pique me most is that these not-so-bright people are so rich--my tutoring fees are exorbitant--while my very intelligent family is in the slums. Say what I want about my not-mother, she's prodigiously astute. She is ambidextrous; she knows 6 languages (more fluent in some than others); she never loses an argument even though it is always her fault; she never forgets a phone number even if she happens to glance at it only once; she isn't wise but her memory is photographic.  And although I know many, many clever people, including my professors, I must admit my not-mother is on par with them.

My youngest uncle, the criminal who spent the best years of his life in jail, doesn't need to arrange the tiles during mahjong; can memorize them immediately; and spots the winning card at a glance. While chatting, he can memorize the tiles the other players discard so that he knows what tile the players are calling for.

My sister and I conclude that our brilliant brains are made to plan malevolent things - but why can't we plan to rob the bank and get rich!

2. Waited at Alliance Francais to watch The Diving Bell and the Butterfly withmorbidity80 and his boyfriend. Tried contacting him several times but no response. The tickets were with him and after waiting stupidly outside the theatre for 45 minutes, I left. I was worried that something bad might happen to him since he has always been very responsible. Then, just now, he texted me saying he left his phone at home and thought I didn't want to watch. humph. Now that he has his boyfriend, he forgets about me! And to make him feel even worse if and when he reads this entry, I brought him a present. Guilt-tripping is my forte! I learn it from the best, I learn it from my not-mama.
 

1. I knew it! I wanted to say this to Yvette, my former mother, but since I am not on speaking terms to her, I held my tongue: "Wah, you switch on the air-con in the living room with the doors and windows open--and you on it every time when you're sitting alone in the dark at midnight, which is everyday. When the electricity bill comes, don't blame us." AND OF COURSE, the bill came and she had to write a note, asking me not to leave my laptop on (which I do only two or three times a month). Please, the amount of electricity a laptop consumes for an entire day is infinitesimal compared to the air-con working so hard for 2 hours. But whatever, she's paying it so I'll be smart and not get into an argument. My friend once told me, "Don't be silly. Make use of your parents then dump them when they're old." That friend committed suicide.

2. I should stop surfing on my handphone. The bill is so high I don't even know how I'm going to pay for it!

When I was growing up, relatives all said that my brother was the goodlooking one. When I look back on our old photos, I don't know how they could have judged. My brother was handsome but I was rather boyish. But looking at this photo, I have to admit he did look like a toy doll with those rosy cheeks. And look at his stupendous fashion sense. Not everyone can carry off a purple top with fern-green shorts. The neutral-colored sports jacket was a brilliant move, harmonizing the clash between purple and green. The insignia of a tennis racket on the left chest is nothing short of adorable. My brother used to be hip.

1. If you're on my facebook, check out my karaoke videos. They are very funny.

2. I spent some time considering what a date movie is and rejected District 9 (which I want to watch very badly) and Ugly Truth and opted for Time Traveler's Wife to melt Bert Bert's cold cold heart and he sniffled although I didn't like it much. This is our first movie! Then we went back to his place and he told me about his past loves and family background. So much drama.

3. Speaking of drama, my family is brewing some with a series of emails. I am quite detached from it since it has to do with Yvette, my former mother. I do think, however, her sms is very hurting - but that's how she is, abusive psychologically.

4. My married friend called me at 7am on Saturday morning and cried. The man she used to love, who dumped her and dated her friend, came back to her and she was miserable. I asked her to come back to Singapore where I can protect her from this creep. She said the 20s sucks, luckily we are going to be 30. We should hold a valediction party to bid our miserable 20s farewell.

5. Retro pic of the day with my brother. The mottled marble flooring was from my old apartment. I think we kept the bear until we were quite old but I don't remember whose bear it was or if I liked it much. The photo is so retro that the edges are rounded! You can tell how much I craved for attention by my attention seeking pose.
 

sorra, Closee and I met to celebrate sorra's birthday.  It was very fun and heartwarming. Closee is a school teacher, about to marry, having a crush on her student, Brandon.

sorra

sorra

ryken24

Dad: You got a new mobile phone line?

Me: Yes.

Dad: Is it the same number as your old one?

Me: No.

[Awkward silence.] Dad walked away.

A week later, I received a call: "Hello, do you want dinner?" asked Dad.

The reason why I don't want him to know my number is because if he knew, my siblings' mother would know. I can think of two ways he could have gotten my number: (1) Either he or his wife sneaked into my room and used my phone to dial their mobile phones or (2) the bill has come and he paid for it, an unlikely idea since it hasn't been a month I've gotten my new line. I've entertained the thought of deleting my number off their handphones surreptitiously but I decided I shouldn't stoop so low. There can be only one scum in each family and it's not going to be me.

*

A few weeks ago, Dad's wife asked me to go buy a bookshelf but I had no need for it. Yesterday, Dad bought a very hideous yellowish-wood bookshelf without my knowing. He wanted to put it in my sister's room but why should I impose on her? So the ugly bookshelf is now squeezed into a corner of my already tiny room, with no space to walk, tiny because Dad and his wife certainly made some very bad furnishing and decorating choices with all those ghastly tawdry inbuilt cabinets and wardrobes. One can have taste even if one has no money.

I'm not ungrateful, and I know Dad has good intentions, unlike his evil wife, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I've kept saying no no no but he keeps doing things against my wishes. It's like a persistent suitor who calls and calls when you're not interested, and our meretricious relationship is like a solicitous whore who wouldn't let me go.

morbidity80

ryken24

(See:
Jun 17: Arrival
Jun 18: New York)

Philadelphia

We ordered two sets of expensive and sumptuous breakfast, costing US$35, but they were worth the candle. We felt like royalty or like we had our little secret apart from the tour group. Even when the single mother with her two kids from Jordan were late for 15 minutes, we didn't grumble. The tour stopped somewhere for breakfast - and we ate again.

From New York, we moved into Philadelphia, the land of brotherhood.

Meng and Mel came to New York for a tour. The spectacular event for the trip is that nothing spectacular happened, meaning that they are the few people I can travel with without being a prick, without a fallout.

Day 1: Went to JFK airport to fetch them; Taiwanese lunch; my sister and I shopped at Queens Mall, everyone's favorite mall, while Meng napped. We bought halal food back for dinner but Meng was still sleeping, slept till the next morning. He slept for 14 hours or so. I was so happy to see them again.

Look what we found on our way back:

For the underage, it's called a cassette tape. You put it in a device such as a walkman or hi-fi and music will come out.

Ah Girl was a white Maine Coone, born in 1995, with emerald eyes and was brought up by an officer in an army barrack where she was trained to catch mice. Given to Meng as a gift, she escaped nightly from his Bukit Merah flat through a window for her rendezvous and returned in the mornings, meowing at the door, waking Meng to be let in. From 2002-4, she lived at Meng's pet shop, along with many other cats, dogs and fish, and was the only animal allowed to roam freely. There, she was bitten by a crazy dog and lost the sight and hearing and two teeth on her right side, which accounted for her wry look. She was in turn given to Mel and me when the pet shop fell because Meng couldn't keep both a dog, a golden retriever, and a cat in his flat due to the objections of his father.

She was so gentle that when two kids pulled her by the tail she did not even scratch them. She would never hurt anyone physically but was rather vindictive. When I refused to allow her into my room (because her fur itched my eyes and skin), and whenever she could sneak into my room, she would pee on my books and shit on my bed. Those were the good times. George Eliot was a victim of her incontinence. She had also ruined the expensive sofa of Italian leather (as pictured above) by peeing, shitting, vomiting and scratching on it. She had good taste.

Every time my mother was angry at me or my sister, she would say to give Ah Girl away or send her to the SPCA. This is how I learn not to depend on my mother because she would use it against me someday.

In later years, Ah Girl would follow me everywhere I go in the flat, even to the toilet. Depending on her mood, she would respond (or not) to her name. Sometimes when no one was home, I would tell her my troubles and believe that she understood because we were in many ways quite alike. She was the only  one who could keep my secrets and indulge me in my emo-ness.

May 31, 2009. She was put to sleep because she was too frail and in great suffering. I wish I had been there during the euthanasia to see her one last time. I wish I were religious so that I could say she had joined Provence the Hamster. She was 15 years old, or 70 cat years.

Oh, my nephew is getting to be as cute as I was. Almost but not there yet.