Eventful, the past two days were. Yoda, I am.

Kim Gary’s, we were at. Good food, we had. Phlegm, Paul’s dessert was.

Shut up, Hui Lin.


Anyway yes Alex Paul Amanda and I went out to kok around at Kim Gary’s yesterday, where I had the AWESOMEST strawberry drink ever, except it was a mistake scooping out the ice to get to the Aloe Vera because it was freakishly sweet at the bottom and the strawberries were freakishly sour.


This is us recreating their (Paul and Manda’s) kindergarten picture. Alex wore the shirt I gave him to replace the black polo shirt that shrunk in the wash.
Amanda and me.

So after about 2 hours of talking and camwhoring and getting a good dose of Amanda’s wholesome and family-friendly humour, I went back to Citibank with Alex, after which Amanda and I went back to her hotel. We talked until two in the morning, and I tell you, to converse properly with Amanda you have to have a special ability to segment your thoughts because she wanders off all over the place.

Anyway yay Manda Panda thanks for the ride and here I am back in Malacca.

Then tonight Gin Yuen Alexc Yien and I went for Made of Honour. And by golly the movie was complete crap, completely bollocks because with me being an ardent fan of British culture and Scottish Highlands and Edinburgh’s weather and all that, I thought the the movie totally made fun and blew out of proportion everything I love about where I still hope I shall be going at the end of September. Maybe I’m not a know-all about Scottish tradition (I’m probably a know-nothing) but stillll I get the undertones and I don’t it’s all pretty.

And then there’s the whole betrayal element. I mean, what? You made your promise already, so if you want to dump your husband-to-be-in-2-minutes, at least not kiss your ex-best friend and MAKE OUT with him in front of the whole congregation. I mean, honestly. Bitch!!! Yes, she’s really pretty, but *slams her head into a wall*. HA.

Okay so this is the 4 of us at Pan and Wok or Wok and Pan, I don’t really remember.

The green tea was terribly sweet, the food was okay, and well.

You know, some things just don’t change and I’m tired of expecting more every time. So much for closure, so much for hoping for some kind of coherence that I can gather from what I see. I’m troubled by these fragments, of people and personalities and glances, hanging dreams and unfinished bridges and simple silent conversation that I don’t really understand. I don’t understand these muddling divisions. What makes me stop where I do? What made me not stop the other time? What’s special, and what’s not. To what lengths would I go, and how differently do I love?

And uncertainty. Ugh. It never ends, life’s a cruel joke, like a ghost clown about to pounce with its painted grin.

And so I shall sit here and let my feet hang, and wait, till the end of things, for directions, for a slate wiped clean.