I think in a lot of ways I'm one of those people who can never stop looking back, always clinging on to memories.

It bothers me, and I'm talking brows-furrowing, head-splitting kind of bother, how the days are moving on so quickly because it only means that my months spent in Hawaii are further back in memory. And I'd like to think I will never forget but sometimes I feel like I'm losing grasp.

I know nothing is going to reverse time. Apart from a deal with the devil, of course, and at the moment he's refusing to return my calls.

I'd like to go back more than anything. More than Chanel bags, more than a lifetime supply of Ben & Jerry's.

It's becoming almost an obsession. I keep on participating in that competition to catch Jack Johnson at the Kokua Festival. And although I do sometimes enjoy his music, you know I'm really in it more for the Hawaii part than the Jack Johnson part.

But who am I kidding? What are the odds that the one sole winner is me of all people?!

I never win anything. Nothing. Not lucky draws, or scratch cards, or poker or 4D. Nothing. (Let's for a moment now blissfully ignore the fact that I don't even know how to play poker nor do I buy 4D to begin with.)

And even though many, many lovely things have happened to me in my life, at heart, I consider myself an extremely unlucky person. I can't shake the feeling that there's only so much good fortune in the world to go round and if someone else is getting it, it leaves even less for me.

I'm so neurotic la. And I've got a theme song for every twisted emotion I encounter throughout the day, everyday. Hell, I could make a soundtrack out of my life.

Right about now, it's this tiny snippet of lyrics from The Fray:

"And suddenly I become a part of your past,
I'm becoming the part that don't last.
I'm losing you and its effortless..."

(12:02 PM)

This would be a long overdued post because I've been spending these past few days catching up on my sleep. God knows I deserved it okay.

Sunday night, the FHRK (to be pronounced in the most vulgar and unlady-liked way as possible) gang stayed out. Like out OUT. The whole damn blardy night.

It wasn't at all planned and I joined them only after I was done with work and that was already eleven-ish. I mean, we knew we were going to stay up late. Only no one foresaw that we were going to be unanimously at peace with not heading home at all.

We took the first train home in the wee hours of the morn and I only got to snuggle under my covers at 7am only to be up again at 9am to get ready for work again. It is by far the stupidest thing I could subject myself to. But this is not to say I'm regretting it because the company was amazing. (This is where you guys get oh-so-flattered)

When I woke up from that measly amount of cat-nap, I was actually contemplating hard if I should shower again because I just did so like 120 minutes ago. Dilemma, dilemma.

Then everything around me seemed to exist outside the realm of reality. On my way to work, my eyes were stinging, my head was pounding, the pavement was lurching at me. Basically, I was stumbling around in a grief-sodden daze except I had nothing to grieve about. (Aside the fact that Rae is no longer on the island of course! Heh.)

Popped by that coffee place I shall not mention (because publicity cannot be FOC) and was greeted by chirpy coffee brewers. I returned the joy with a giant fake smile plastered on my face.

I guess these people are used to desperately caffeine-needy patrons so the fella who attended to me was really nice. He treated me with as much concern and tenderness as if he was giving me a cancer diagnosis.

"Skinny latte, the biggest size you have, and extra shots please…"

"Of course. And how many extra shots would you like?"

"How many can you give max?" I asked wearily, my head resting on my hands, elbows propped atop the counter.

"Erm I don’t think you want to go beyond three, for your sake."

"Kayy. Make it three."

It worked I tell ya. As the caffeine ran through my bloodstream, I was transformed into the Energizer bunny. I typed with gusto and attended my InDesign training like the perfect student.

Only giveaway was that if you look a little closer, you would see that my eyes were glazed in a way seen only in cult members or the brainwashed.

(12:29 AM)

One, while other girls were strutting on the streets, with one hand perched on the crook of their men's arm and another hand holding a bouquet of flowers, I was working.

Whenever people asked me if I had a date though, my replies were very well-rehearsed; "Of course I do! I'm dating myself this Valentine!" I retorted smugly.

KQ, or is Howie, said I'm way up there with Carrie Bradshaw, yunno with the dating self and New York yadablah. Damn another association to Needy Carrie! I want to be Miranda!!!! (with Carrie's shoes, du'oh)

Anyhoo, I got home to a box of Godiva the dad got for me and mum. Actually, I think just for the mum, but I shamelessly squealled, "For meeeeee???? Awww.."

Two, I covet with covety covetousness the Macbook Air. *hearts* I love, I want, I need.

Three, I'm driving so much I can hardly feel my legs and the mood of my entire day lately is determined by how well my driving goes.

Considering how incompetent I am and how quotable my instructor is, I'd say my week has been this close to being MISERABLE. (which is why V'day is the least of my concern really.)

At least I no longer hear "Are you driving to kill or are you driving to DIEEE?!!!" Last very note-worthy thing my beloved instructor said was that he felt like he needed to say the rosary whenever I drive. He's catholic obviously.

Today though, like some miracle God decided to reward me with after days of undue suffering and torture, driving went well. (OMG, I can't believe I just used the words "driving" and "well" together in the same sentence, with no sarcasm whatsoever!)

The instructor and I could talk and laugh. We talked about how incredulous it is that people are grieving over the death of Ah Meng. Okay, HE said it was ridiculous, and although I was also one of those people who mourns for the orang utan, of course I agreed with him. I mean, I don't want to ruin this very rare moment we were having yunno. Haha.

Then he talked about how later when he dies his tombstone will have the L-plate, to which I responded that all his students, me included, would come and wave the L-Plate flag. The moment I said it, I regretted it knowing I should have just shut up and driveee--aivee-- aiveee (to be sang to Rihanna's song, du'oh).

But you know what, he laughed. A big hearty laugh. And I laughed with him. All that time, I didn't put us in any imminent danger and he need not grab the steering wheel from me. So, so glad.

Four, the three Brazillian players that Geylang United just signed on to their team are looking very very delicious. They are so cute I'm actually thinking of maybe -perish the thought- keeping up with the S-League again. Heh.

And lastly, after Spice Girls totally bangsei-ed us by cancelling their Asian tour, Howie and I are slightly pacified now that we've gotten the F1 tickets in the bag for good while the rest of Singapore scrambled wretchedly for tickets which were released yesterday. You know, I really feel like going neh neh neh we got it before the release la la la!!! Sooo owe the people in the Sports desk for hooking me up with tickets man. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, my happinees was clouded with a pending worry..

me® says: omg do we like buy jerseys to wear? ok do they call them jerseys? i dunno f1 lingo... and lewis hamilton dun count.

HowE says: no need lah!!!

HowE says: those shirts cost $100+ a pop

HowE says: and it's the shittier half of 100-200

me® says: i know it's not a NEED la but im visually ransacking my wardrobe now thinking what to wear

me® says: hahaha

And that makes five. Gee, that was a long one.

(10:31 AM)

Everytime I come across the phrase I get a little teary-eyed. I risk sounding like a complete wuss writing this post, but if you're even reading it to begin with, chances are, you already know yours truly can be a pile of mush. Sometimes.

So we watched Kite Runner tonight.

I remembered reading the book. I got it as a present from my best friend who got it for me a little less than two years back, as plane read. But I finished it even before I got on that plane. I poured over it while I was running my errands around the island getting ready for my exchange. More than twenty people witnessed me bawling my eyes out in the train ie. I made a complete idiot of myself.

It was retarded. I could not stop the tears that I had to actually shut the book, take a moment and think of happy thoughts just to regain some normal sense of composure. It was embarassing because I must have looked like my boyfriend had dumped me for a hooker and I told myself I was never to read gut-wrenching books in public ever.

So back to the movie.

I had no confidence in it and was gearing myself up for a letdown because let's face it, actually, very often, all a film adaptation has in common with the source of the book is the title. I even have a few slamming criticism in my pocket, ready, pre-movie, to dish out as soon as I emerged from the theatres but now I think they won't be necessary.

There are a few disconcerting discrepancies to the true narrative but hey, I'm realistic, I have (grudgingly) accepted it is virtually impossible to re-enact the entire novel in that 122 minutes of the film.

Some parts were fast-forwarded and we felt like some moments should have been what they were; MOMENTS. Not a mere brief mention. Nothing beats reading the real deal but I felt that the movie did just enough within its limitations.

As far as I'm concerned, the spirit of the book had been captured. The child actor playing Hassan looked exactly as I had imagined him. For a moment it felt like I had conjured him up, that he was there because I had imagined him. So cute in that pure, innocent sort of way. It took awhile to get used to seeing Amir on-screen because I had visualized him to be this scrawny kid but he turned out to be really handsome.

It was all very moving and to my mortification I began to cry. Luckily not in a big, shoulder-shaking extravaganza of emotion, just in an eye-filling, discreet-sniffy kind of way. Bad enough though since Saffy noticed the tears rolling down my cheeks barely fifteen minutes into the film.

When the credits rolled, I made two conclusions. One, I want to adopt an Afghan kid, preferably a Hazara. And two, I want to play kites. Really really want to FLY kites instead of just running around and dragging the kite behind me on the ground like how it was when my sis and I were kids.

As a P.S. to this non-review, Fiza and me both got a random jolt of religious motivation out of that scene where Amir was praying in the mosque. (I blame it on the background music) Anyhoo, we felt like we need to be more in touch with Islam. I mean, I know my faith in my religion is unwavering but I think I need to be a little bit more involved. Sooo, weird as this may sound, both are us agreed to make a conscious effort to be a little bit closer to God.

(11:16 PM)

The crazy planning with the extended families leading towards our Lunar New Year getaway gets bearable as the day approaches. I've learned to embrace them in a zen kind of way - why resent them? Resenting them would be as futile as resenting the sun rising in the morning.




(10:43 AM)