I know I said I decided not to like Alanis Morissette anymore but then her new album's so good I'm going to backpaddle.

Sigh, music over Ryan Reynolds. Woman knows how to make her music, and I can't help it. I got reeled in.

This one's the current theme song of my life. Like the music, love the lyrics. So relate-able, so relevant. It's the current background music of this blog, so enjoy.

One day I'll find relief
I'll be arrived
And I'll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends

One day I'll be at peace
I’ll be enlightened
And I'll be married with children and maybe adopt

One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

One day, my mind will retreat,
And I'll know god
And I'll be constantly one with her night dusk and day

One day I'll be secure
Like the women I see on their 30th anniversaries

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous and torturous
But never done

One day, I will speak freely
I'll be less afraid
And measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art

One day I will be faith-filled
I'll be trusting and spacious authentic and grounded and whole

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

(6:46 AM)

I conclude in the first para of my blog entry that no one had actually gone out to BUY the concert tix for Click 5.

This is what happens when your fan base consist of screaming young things who have no purchasing power. Is it mean to laugh? Heck it, HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

So today, I got my FORTH offer to watch if for free. One, two, three, four. All free.

Three of those offers came from friends but I had to yes the first dude from work who asked me. Damn. Like how would I know all these other offers would come in later on? Stupid life had programmed me to seize the opportunity at his first knock. But postman clearly likes to return to my door when it comes to trivial juve things like this.

So now, this dude I'm going with totally don't get it. I kept on saying I'll see him at the stadium just abit before the show and he kept talking about eateries at the area for dinner options.

Dinner before a gig are for friends and dates. Not for people from work who are your sometimes acquaintance. I don't want to sit down and TALK to him over dinner. I like my dinner. I'm that girl who wants to enjoy her food without having to worry about what to say next.

But now he has set our meeting time an hour earlier. A whole sixty minutes of pleasantries and series of small talk. Hmmph.

Why couldn't all you people I actually would WANT to hang with, ask me just a tad bit earlier? Why, why, WHY?!!

Ps. Music playing in my room now, all Bossa tracks. I feel like I'm in Starbucks or something.

(10:26 AM)

This time, the stake's much higher.

I just don't think I have it in me to keep on trying if I don't pull through this time. I'd like to think I'm tough and shite but I doubt what I'm made of. I just don't think I have the strength and energy and the heart to pick myself up again. I'm not made of such sturdy material.

This time, there's no excuses.

The timing of the test does not coincide with my shitting time. Okay absolute TMI. I apologize. But it's true. My bowel mechanism is very disciplined one. And this time, I can't say I'm worried half the time that I might need to do a number two in the middle of it all. How mortifying.

This time, the pressure's on.

My parents have so much faith in me passing. God only knows where this faith comes from but my folks believe in me so much, I don't want to let them down. I lamented my doubts to my mum the other day and she told me I need to be more confident in myself. I'm not sure this is a confidence issue though. My esteem is not THAT badly wounded. I know what I'm good at and driving is just not one of them.

This time, there's an extra motivation.

My dad gets soooooo excited talking about cars. He keeps on pointing out cars on the road that would suit me every few minutes. And I'm supressing it, I'm pushing it down so hard so the letdown would not be too hard to handle, but him being psyched is making me psyched! And he even let me drive his vehicle around the carpark the other day!!! How do I break it to him that his motor skills' genes did not get pass on to me? I can't bear it. *sulks*

This time, there's a blardy unintended competition going on.

Apparently, my guy cousin is taking his test around my time too. Grr!! Could it be any more stressful? Damnit, we are not even normally rivals but yunno relatives will talk and compare. It's in their nature. And I don't want to be the one who DIDN'T make it.

Oh God, please help me...

(1:05 AM)

There's nothing good about season finales.

One, they serve as an indication that the season's ending hence my happy times are prematurely put to a halt.

Two, they leave you hanging, standing at the edge of that cliff after all that time and dedication you've commited, after all that emotional investment, they just leave you hanging by a thread like it's so damn funny.

Well it's not. It tortures and gives me sleepless nights.

I mean, ya sure, it's like the most dramatic, the most climatic, but damnit, is it so impossible to treat us loyal viewers with some closure!!! Is it that freaking hard?!!!

And then there was an exception...

Grey's Anatomy gave one mother of a closure this time to make season finale a little less frustrating, a little more rewarding.

Dang it was sooo goooOOOoood.

But why la, they got to make every alternate scenes so tear-jerking? Seriously okay. It's so distracting to have to pause every once in awhile to reach out for a tissue.

I wonder when the Grey's effect will wane on me. The quirkiness and the character dynamics just keep on getting better. Me likey!

One more comment before I retire for the night; That bit where Alex is crying, pleading for some intimacy from Izzy? Like honestly, no (straight) women on this ENTIRE planet can say no to that, to him, to HIM like THAT!!! Haha.

God, I heart TV. Oh autumm leaves, please quickly fall off those trees you're on so my good times can resume back in fall.
Please..

(2:23 AM)

You know the whole angst fest on my previous post?

So over.

I think it has something to do with the fact that I had a surprisingly good day with my family at my cousin's wedding.

For some reason I can't really be sure of except maybe of certain arrangements set over the years, my sis and I are closer to the family on my mum's side.

My cousins from that side of the family tree are more or less on the same wavelength as I am. We see each other wayyy more often. We hang out more. We float pretty much on the same boat.

The cousins on my dad's side are more, how do I put it nicely, colorful? Haha.

Well, there's a range. A gargantuan one that is. And we are all positioned on different scales and levels on that range.

After tonight though, like any other family gatherings as huge as a wedding can be, I think despite our differences, I heart them. I really really heart them.

Anyhoo, I bitched about Indiana Jones right? But at least I'm in it for Shia. But my poor friend had absolutely no reason to catch it.

A snippet of my poor buddy's blog entry:

"Went for the Indiana Jones preview last night. IT SUCKED BIG TIME. Half the time I was looking over at F to see if she's believing any of this bullshit. Thank God her pained expression looks far worst than mine.

I'll give you an example. Harrison Ford is in atomic bomb testing area. So what does he do? He ran into a fridge and while the things around him starts to burn into dust, the fridge miraculously fly off to safety zone and after major tumblings, Harrison Ford emerges from the fridge barely hurt with the Indiana Jones theme playing in the background!

WHAT THE FUCK!?

At the end of the movie, Cate Blanchett faces an alien (the whole skull thing is based on alien's skull) and keeps repeating "I WANT TO KNOW! I WANT TO KNOW" and then seconds later "ENOUGH I CAN'T TAKE IT, ENOUGH!" -_-

Anything with dumbass aliens in it is guaranteed to be a dumb movie. Thank God I didn't have to pay a single cent. If I had to pay, I'd be ranting all the way home. RUBBISH. Someone should totally do a spoof."

Hahahaha! I cannot articulate it better myself. So damn true.

I don't say this enough, but thank you for keep on making me your plus one. Just so yunno, I'm gonna hate it if or when you gotta let go this gig of yours. Let's hope you're just pausing temporarily to make way for reality.

(1:29 AM)

What's annoying is when after a long day of work, all I wanna do is popped into the cab and be stoic silent on my way home but people wanna share the cab with me. And I don't mind really because I can claim the taxi fare but these reporters can't, but it's damn uncomfortable to have to squeeze with like two other people in the backseat.

And I'm tired. I'm so damn tired. It might be hard to believe but moments like these, I don't want to talk and I don't want to hear people talk. Maybe you think you're being nice to me by making conversation on the way home, get acquainted blah blah blah, but don't. Just shuddup. Please.

What's annoying is also cab drivers who like to chat. I don't mean no disrespect but I'll hire a male gesiha if I want somebody to talk and shower me with attention. And yes, it may seem sometimes that I need a therapist, but I'm not THAT crazy. So just drive. Drive me home, in silence. In this beautiful, beautiful silence.

What's annoying is this headache I'm having right now because despite the freaking misleading hot weather, it rained on me. And now, my head feels so heavy I wanna knock myself out with a frying pan.

What's annoying is when the new intern asked about my IM moniker and when I explained that it was from the lyrics of a song only by the love of my life, Jason Mraz, she said, "Oh is he the guy on your calendar?" One, why she must be so kaypoh? Two, how can she not know who Jason Mraz is?! Three, how can she not know who Jason Mraz is AND proclaimed it to me?!! Four, how can she mistook Adrian Grenier for Jason?!!!!! Boyfriend is an actor damnit, he doesn't sing!!!!! Where have you been, bitch?!

What's annoying is that I've missed the Idol finale and put myself through a supposedly classic adventure movie that seems to run predominantly in sepia tone because of one boy. Shia Lebeouf, if you weren't so cute, I could have made a wiser decision and not be distracted by your dorky good looks.

What's annoying is the fact that my wisdom tooth is acting up again and it hurts to eat. I hate it when I cannot eat. HATE. And it's rubbing against the walls of my mouth so an ulcer is blossoming there. Grr.

What's annoying is my messy room. I'm too lazy to tidy it up when I get home and too iffy to let other people clean it ie. touch my stuff. So I'm pretty much stuck in this spot. Yes, totally self-inflicted but annoying nevertheless.

What's annoying is me, who is annoyed at every damn thing now.

What's annoying is that I've run out of annoying things that annoyed me enough to blog about.

(12:30 AM)

This song is so absolutely apt right before an impending panic attack, moments when you start having sniffles of a meltdown. Without being all rara and annoying, it hauntingly reassures and silently motivates. Goes straight into my life's theme song bag.

Plus, it's being sung by two of my favourite musician men on the planet, Mr Jason Mraz and James Morrison. Talk about a sexy collaboration, in totally straight terms of course.

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling all your threads saying
Breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm then brace it
If it's a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your own name
And go your own way
And everything will be fine

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I'm doing everything

Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
And everything, everything will be fine
Everything

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

Yeah everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Everything
Hold your own
And know your name
And go your own way

(12:28 AM)

It's officially 7.07am and I'm sulking a little because Marie Digby's gig is overrrrr!!! Boo.

I seriously cannot believe I just rolled out of my bed at 5.45am just so I can catch her live perfomance in Vegas at 3pm Pacific time. Girl is totally worth waking up for though.

Before I get into the whole post-gig reviewing business, can I just say how wonderfully brilliant technology is? It's blardy awesome people from all over the world can come together and all enjoy music live simultaneously.

If I were to write a song about a non-living thing, or if I ever write a song to begin with, I'd write a love song dedicated to technology. Really.

Front row tickets, great panning camera view, long shots and close-ups. Online gig should be the next IT thing. Although nothing beats being physiclaly there, I think this is great gimmick and promo for her up-coming tour.

Marie Digby is pretty much, well, perfect. And because I don't have a My Space account so I could drop her a message to tell her she's great, I'm gonna just typed her name up alot so the chances of her seeing this when she googles her name is higher.

So with that said, Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby Marie Digby.

Haha. Okay I think that's enough. In the efforts of getting her to read this, I think I've just lost my own readers ie. my friends.

Her music's simple and her vocals are not Celine Dion-esque but she worked what she got. She's amazing to listen to, totally talented with both the guitar and the piano (jealous much!), anddd she look absolutely gorgeous and adorable.

I never got into the Jap-fad craze wagon but when she spoke the language, I swear something in me just melted. Okay did I just sound super gay? Ha.

I'm just going to roll back into bed now but once again, I'm glad I woke up before normal human hours for that hour-worth of watching Marie do her thing.

Thanks for giving me heads-up on the gig B.

ps. There's seriously some sick people in cyber world okay. Some dude kept asking her to take her clothes off during the concert. Like WTF.

(7:07 AM)

"Don't wonder why people go crazy.
Wonder why they don't.
In the face of all we can lose in a day, in an instance,
wonder what the hell it is
that makes us hold it together."

- Grey's Anatomy, S4 E15 -

(11:34 PM)

I know, I know, he's a tad bit too whiny, too sappy, too emo and if he croon "You're beautiful" even one more time, a lot of people might be tempted to get themselves a gun and shoot their own heads.

The less resourceful ones or those living in a gun-free country like ours can settle for the fork in the kitchen drawer to stab their eyes with.

But to me, James Blunt's heartmelting. He's bambi. The Bambi. I just wanna squish him into a tiny little compact thing I can stuff into my pocket and carry with me.

I was a tad fretful I could be blowing all that moolah to bore myself silly. Of course I was doubtful of the amount of fun and entertainment can I derive from this seemingly mellowed-down concert.

The venue was still too huge for my liking but without a tone of bias in my voice and crazy-moving-typing fingers, he did good.

Strapped to his guitar and sometimes the piano, the man actually attempted at various parts of the concert to bust some moves and worked the stage. It wasn't a full choreographed Timberlake-esque moves for sure but they were smooth, classy and even amusing to watch.


And amusing was he as he interacted with the crowd, making fun of his own overplayed songs alluding one of them to be halted as "a funeral song." No prizes for guessing which song he was refering to.

The man humoured without being contrived. He did not strew "Singapore is the best place in the world" like any other typical acts desperate to please would, but he pleased the audience anyhow.

The media and lights going on as part of the stage set complemented his performance without being overbearing that we were to get distracted from the man himself.


His coming back on stage for the encore was expected as the singer had clearly missed out his first single from his second album, 1973, saving it for last. With twinkly Christmas lights adorning his piano, he made an impressive effort to get the crowd on their feet and grooved with the music. It paled slightly. I guess there's only so much rocking out a singer meant to sing sad tear-inducing ballads can achieved.

His slow numbers though did more than enough to pacify a filled-up stadium of people. Sometimes, some good heart tuggings do more impact than a series of head-banging.

Never underestimate the effectiveness, emotional elevation and the degree of entertainment sappy love songs can conspire.

And when the gig's over for real, I could not help but silently sing to myself..

I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow

(1:54 AM)

(I'd sing this song for that special someone I may stumble upon someday, if ever, yunno. The one person who make me wanna be the best version of myself. After this post, we'll go on with our lives and pretend I didn't just say all that and do all this..)

If you were falling, then I would catch you.
You need a light, I'd find a match.

Cuz I love the way you say good morning.
And you take me the way I am.

If you are chilly, here take my sweater.
Your head is aching, I'll make it better.

Cuz I love the way you call me baby.
And you take me the way I am.

I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair.
Sew on patches, to all your tear.

Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise.
And you take me the way I am.
You take me the way I am.
You take me the way I am.

(12:20 AM)

Syncing with what today is, we all know what it is unless we are feigning ignorance to which I'd say SHAME ON YOU, I shall blog about my mother.

Five (cos I'm at work and and there's only how long a time I can skive unnoticeably) of the million reasons why I heart my mummy:

One, my mum would carry me around when I was a kid when she do her marketing cos I would squirm and squeal in disgust say if my feet even slightly come into contact with the wet floor of the market. I hated going to the pasar, HATED it with a passion and I would pinch my nose the whole time. Not something I'm very proud of, but yes, I think I might have been quite prissy. And get this, I was a FAT toddler. So pudgy my sister could not even carry me, she had to push me across the floor say if she wanted to move me. And my mum, my dear mother, had all that strength to prop me on the crook of her arm, shuffling through the market.

Two, she's a champion nagger but as I grew up and became an angsty teenager who valued her alone time more than anything, she gave me space. Even now, like after I'm done with work, she know all I wanna do is just lie on my bed, in my room, in solitude, wrap in complete silent. And she'll only interrupt me to ask if I want her to fix me a hot milo.

Three, growing up, she wanted me to be a doctor so bad to the point where she actually got me this doll they called "Baby Check-Up". Madeline (yes I named my dolls) came with a thermometer that would indicate a smiley face and a sad face reflecting the doll's health, a stethoscope that let you hear heartbeat and a medicine syringe which worked such that if u tilt it at an angle, it seemed to be diminishing in volume. But then Science proved to be something I'm allergic to. I made a U-turn and headed for the opposite pole yet she still tell me she's proud of me. And my grad picture is the wallpaper on her cell phone.

Four, she's in complete denial about my being in adulthood. This of cos has its pros and cons. Just the other day, she was recommending me to attend a sermon at the mosque which was apparently going to be very interesting. I looked at the flyer only to find out that it was meant for "teenagers". I reacted incredulously to which she just shrugged sheepishly in retort. But in a world that expects you to be a grown up with grown-ups endless responsibilities, it's just relieving to be able to peel that mask off for a short while, take a break and be mummy's baby girl again.

Five is the fact that my sister took all the genes from her so much so that people know immediately they are related while I seem like the adopted kid they picked up on the way home whose origins remain a mystery. I've inherited nothing from my mum except for one thing; her love of watching TV. They tell me my mum was watching a hella load of TV while she was having me. True story. How can I not love the fact that my life's passion, my obsession, my TV junkie's addiction, that part of my identity I actually like, can all be attributed to my own mother?!

If they were to assemble all the mothers in the world, and yes even Angelina Jolie, Gwen Stefanie and Princess Diana in the mix, I would still choose my mum to be my mother.

(1:01 PM)