you know you need to sing this

(come on, it's catchy)

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
Youll see the sun come shining through, for you

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
if you just smile

"We all pay for life in certain ways." - Gownie the Great

You were nineteen when

You refused to eat properly

And ended up irregular.

Then you spouted something

On a childish whim

You paid.

Laxatives ftw

12 and older

In his usual fashion, my brother led me to the fridge to show me a "cool new something from the supermarket". (The last time he did this was for Cadbury Milk Chocolate Frogs.)

"Da jie da jie!"

A can of cola-flavoured Naughty G.

Thought process: miracle molecule horny goat weed raunchy advertisements rumoured to be aphrodisiacal horny goat weed naughty for him & her horny goat weed in my fridge among the cans of root beer in the hands of a boy barely 13-year-old he wants it because it's Cola.

In that moment it was as if my brother bought flavoured condoms because he thought they were candies.

A bit of backstory: my brother is no longer a primary school kid. It has been so for three months and eighteen days. Now he has classmates who tell him stuff like "your dick will pop up when you think about girls" (and he tells me everything because he's clueless). He'd probably ask me for permission to look at porn someday.

On one hand I want to weed out these little fellas and bash their heads in. At the same time, I want to be all-cool and think it's perfectly normal to be horny at this age. Oh, glorious puberty! (Never mind that I was a negative example, having only confirmed the details of copulation during biology at the grand age of I-shall-not-say.)

But out of precaution, I googled horny goat weed to make sure it wouldn't further my brother's development. As of yet he's still a golden child with a whiny voice.

Then we shared the can of Naughty G, cola-flavoured.

for sake of variety

And my (perceived) individuality:

Xin and Stella, don't cut your hair!

still infallible

because I am going to break Leng's blogging record. Yosh.

INFALLIBLE

is what I am now.

Ho yes. Blood floods my brain. My cheesy neon lights shine for me. I think I'm young. I see blank sheets of paper and I have a truckload of pens with 256 x 256 x 256 different colours. My Macbook still looks cool.

I detect emotion in a dated pop song. I can live on Nissin beef noodles for a week. I can't see the dead pixels on my screen.

All is good. Very good. (sniggers)

Malaysia

I've never felt that much different from any other Singaporean kid, apart from here-and-there occasions when people comment that I don't seem local. (Variants include Chinagirl and Japanese.)

I've never felt that my parents are that much different from any other pair of Singaporean Chinese parents. And they aren't really. Except for a few anomalous traits which I've recently noticed:

1. My mum uses clear vinegar and can't stand the vinegar used in local hawker centres.

2. My parents swear by garlic chili made in Kampong Baru, of which they would buy twelve bottles every time we return to homeground. I hate that stuff.

3. We eat salty char kuay tiao.

4. Occasional remarks along the lines of "Aiya, Malaysia has better (insert name of dish)."

5. We pronounce "shi" as "xi". So "dian shi" becomes "dian xi".

6. We listen to 92.8FM in the car.

I never realised Red FM is based in Malaysia. By the way, they have hilarious radiomercials.

An example -

Male voice: Hey, can I have your sister's number? She's beautiful and my friend is fussy with girls! I want to introduce her to him.

Female voice: Oh, that was my mother! She is drinking XXX nutrient drink. It contains bla bla bla bla. For a healthier life and a more youthful look!

Male voice: Oh wow! I would like to buy it now!

(pause)

The same female voice: Where can I buy a cheap aircon that is environmentally friendly and saves more than 50% energy, AND is quiet and efficient at the same time?

The same male voice: Go to XX aircon roadshow now! It is at bla bla bla. Get the cheapest and most reliable brands, all in one show!

Female voice: Oh wow! Let's go there now!

(pause)

Still the same female voice: I need a loan, what can I do?

Finally a different male voice: Oh, have you heard of YY bank? They have a new and wonderful plan. You can bla and bla and bla. It's totally great!

Female voice (still enthusiastic, yes): Oh wow! Let's sign up for it together now!

It's as subtle as a 50s' TV ad. Win.

(Disclaimer: I have nothing against Malaysia)

Anyway, I just felt like reviving my blog, so there.

I deserve it.

It's been a longtime secret guilt of mine, me being a picky eater.

The most recent case:

I bought seafood tomyam and left all the seafood.

I'm so going to get cursed with lifetimes of bad karma, if we count the numerous times I could have sent food to Africa. Panic.

I cannot do this anymore, if I want to be taken seriously as a human being. *nods*

That and other little OCD-ish oddities that annoys the hell out of my mum.