for your entertainment

wait I should have screamed

I believe I was the victim of an attempt at molest. 11:59pm, at the crossing near my house.

Although it was an incredibly half-assed attempt.

There was this Indian version of a Beng on the other side of the road. Bleached hair and red polo tee (thanks to the corruption of memory through time, I have the impression that it had dragon prints).

When the light turned green, we crossed. As he was nearing me, he just sort of shouted something incomprehensible and reached out to grope. I wasn't very sure what I should do, so I thought I would just step aside. His hand brushed the side of my pants.

I kept walking. I could hear him break into faster footsteps behind me. After about two seconds or so, I realised he must have been attempting molest. A very PHAIL attempt at molest. I couldn't resist curiosity. I turned back and saw him on the pavement. Staring at me. Stationary. (I suppose he must have realised that he didn't manage to commit a crime.)

I couldn't help but found it farnie. I gave him a quizzical half-smile, and for the rest of my way home I composed a new blog entry in my head.

Sure, it's pretentious, but maybe I like pretending. (No one has to like it. I don't have to like anyone not liking it either.)

*insert a CNY song for obligatory festive aura*

supply and demand

I have an issue with the phrase, "a woman in a man's body".

In the first place, is there a particularly womanly soul? e.g. If I have a woman's soul, I automatically like pink and I paint my nails and I like to wear frilly dresses.

If I produce more testosterone than estrogen, I cannot like pink. The notion is biologically incomprehensible. My brain will be inclined to blow up or my hormones will go haywire and I'll find myself speckled with acne.

If I want to be girly, I must not have a penis. I must spend loads of money to chop it off in surgery. Only a woman's body can encompass a woman's soul.

Maybe the Ceiling Cat has a surplus of men's bodies.

(Or is it some society pressure sorta thing again?)

for a ten

I feel terrible in two ways.

I feel a terrible sense of longing for it.

I feel a terrible sense of guilt for wanting it that much.

(My mind keeps playing back that moment when I gallantly waved off that ten dollar note. If only I had been more shameless.)

Updates

The speeches I prepare for COM205 are so much in the style of how I blog it's alarming. But the audience like it (maybe not as much for Verena), I feel comfortable, and it certainly makes COM205 seem infinitely more manageable.

An unrelated personal goal:

To cut down on less commonly heard words a.k.a bombastic words. I shall master deh beauty of economical expressions.

No more walls of text. Succinct is the new Cool.

Another unrelated comment:

The econs studies I signed up for sounds promising. Exciting in a damn evil way. The only clues I've gathered are "guilty money" and "odd and even". Let's see if it'd eventually warrant proper documentation on my blog.