Blank Doll sits still.

Sometimes I just want to sit by the sidewalk and watch the world go by. Sounds cliche? Maybe. But still, sometimes I do. I want to feel the breeze blowing by, not messing up my hair but just tugging at my clothes, making me shut my eyes. I'd watch the people on the other side go about their daily lives and I'd be still. Perfectly still.

Not the Sean I know that's for sure. I'm all for change, for fast pace, for striding and not waddling down roads, for flash and hardwork, for time to pass and for the future. Ah but sometimes amidst all this, there's some errant need to stand still just to watch the world catch up with you. To feel the wind at the back of your head.

A few months ago, I found a particular brand of ice cream at 7-11s and bought the last bar of it. It's this confection of coffee ice cream sandwiched between two thin layers of yellow cake. I went wild a moment ago when I found it again because I've been popping into 7-11 everyday for the past two months. It costs like 1.40! So cheap! And it gives me tonnes of utility, well, not as much as a good shot of godiva but it's the utility yield that matters no?

Haha, to live a life for simple pleasures. I'd be bored if simple pleasures weren't so elusive and charming. Ah well, enough of that. AMERICA IS TRYING TO BAN FOIE GRAS. FUCK THEM. Grr.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll smiles.

Spoke to Jo yesterday and she mentioned something very funny: Don't go out with people who are broke because then you can't eat at nice places. SO TRUE.

Anyway, I cooked up this menu while I was jogging a while ago, just goes to show how hungry I am. Well, firstly, start with a nice salad. Toss in your romaine, your rocket, your little baby greens bursting with fresh juices and then shower them with a dressing of lemon juice, a good press of mint leaves and a few droplets of butter. Croutons if you wish, baste them in a olive oil instead of butter.

Next comes the entree. Tis' a pity that lobsters have been priced out of the common kitchen but it'd still be nice to have it. Lobster mousse. The flesh of a whole lobster, folded into a cream mixture of homemade mayo the way the French do with a little mustard for taste, fluffed with egg white and enriched with a clarified butter. Remember to fold in the green matter of the lobster in the cream mixture as well as add lobster roe. Mould into little ramekins the way you would with potted lobster and serve chilled with a little creme fraiche on top with a dollop of caviar, beluga. This goes with a nice glass of bubbly or if you want something more fun, a sparkling rose.

Dessert. Strawberry souffle. Oh yes, bursting with strawberries and tasting not at all like jam. Serve with a smidgeon of strawberry sorbet on the side if you please. This should rightly be the piece de resistance so it'd be really nice to serve it in a handsome china ramekin set. Wedgewood would be nice, save the antique Sevres for the guests.

Tea, served with pralines of raspberry ganache enrobed in dark chocolate.

This is really a light lunch and can be made for a lunch gathering of about six people. Really easy especially if you have a maid who's handy with the souffles. :D

Now tell me you'd rather have a plate of chicken rice, you hypocrite.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll strikes.

You aren't great. Not even approximating it and frankly, you disgust me. Have a little magnimity, grandeur cannot be achieved with pettiness.

The holidays are here! Woohoo! Going out on monday :D Going out on tuesday :) and FLYING OFF on the 2nd of June. Japan! Hot springs, good food, nature, mountains, beautiful people, rinse and repeat.

I'm gone. Go ahead and cram your heads till you burst for the coming exams my beloved friends. I'm just going to crash and burn so I can repeat the whole process again. Aaah, the holidays. Sweet.

The army has graciously downgraded me to pes B. Now I won't have to commit suicide in the event that I get posted to some physically impossible places. You know what, I'll just tell them I'm a retard and they'll put me with the truck drivers. God, can retard speak? Shall take note and ask my bro.

Nothing to do now. Been horribly temperamental today. Some people scare me and annoy me at the same time because I feel so insignificant and weak. Thank goodness they don't belong in my class.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll eats.

Fool.

What is it within a human that fears the dark? Why is the dark associated with the unknown? The darkness is the primeval softness, the nothingness from which all life came from. The darkness encompasses everything. It is sweet and gentle. It is sensual, enveloping Man in its velvet touch. It consumes the soul of Man, extinguishes the fire at his heart and it turns hope to silken despair. What is it within a human that fears the dark? The light is harsh, glaring and rational. It is order and absolute virtue, it is didactic and hard. It kills the lingering shadows, cleave the black curves of night into white planes of angles and lines. What is the light but an aberration of darkness? To feel darkness, to unlock the shadow that treads behind Man, that traces every step, every footprint of humans. Ah to sleep in the night, to return once more into the fold of darkness, to know once more the love of darkness. To hide from the cruelty of light and its final judgment, to rest within the bosom of night and to be caressed by the hand of the dark.

The darkness is not evil because evil does not exist. Morals and values may only thrive in the blindness of the light for in the dark, all is clear. The world is not divided in the darkness for it seeps into every corner where light will not go. It soothes a fragmented soul when light would lance it apart. Trust in the darkness for through it lies the unbroken road to the deepest junction of Man's heart. The core of humanity, its very essence, is obscured by the light for it lays within the reserve of the night.

Deliver me, for the light has taken over. Drink, drink now from the brimming cup of darkness.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll kicks ass.

End stage of being emo. This is slow but good progress. I hate taking GP test. I think I deliberately flunked this one because I couldn't be arsed to do anything about it. Ah well, who needs GP. NOT a question.

I've discovered so many things about the internet, like the presence of emulators. Whee.

Massive Attack rules. It's got the beat and all, perfect for the runway.

Econs S test tomorrow, let's see how badly I fare considering the fact that Janice Heng will be there too.

This past week has been most strange. I can't wait till the holidays.

Whatever, OH SHIT, I have French homework. Ah well.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll vents his frustration.

All right, still stuck in some obscure funk. I have to get it out of my systems, this strange brooding melancholia.

By the way, I claim linguistic immunity. You may not pick on my language. Any attempt at doing so will result in me switching to french or Blank Doll speak which will fry your pathetic excuse for a brain.

Going to Japan in two weeks' time. Before that happens, I shall run down to HMV to steal a certain embarrassing album. Euphoria can be so degrading.

Been thinking. Is it really so strange for me to love the cold? I just realized that it's not so much love that I desire but the sense of acquring it and losing it. I like despair. Despair is a nice enough substitute for passion which I am singularly incapable of. Unless you're talking about fashion and my ambition in which case passion becomes almost deadly.

Freud once differentiated love into two variants: the life and the death. The death one, Thanatos, is in my opinion, the only thing I'm capable of. This explains the self-destruction, the sadomasochism and the morbid obsession with cold and pain. I like being alone. I want solitude. I want to feel my painful existence all by myself in the full knowledge that I wilfully ignore love. If I had a soulmate, this is the point where I refuse to acknowledge the presence of a soulmate until my soulmate dies. Ah, the grief. I take too much pleasure in feeling pain for it to be healthy.

But there is another side to this. I want to traverse the world, scale the peaks of my dreams, descend into the gutters with nothing but my body saturated with pain and alcohol, dine in L'Hotel Crillon wearing a velvet jacket and wing tips, plot to take over the world and return home to someone I love. I want the calm after the storm as much as I want the storm.

Can anyone survive merely by embracing the tempest? My world swirls around me, constricting me. I need to break out.

Aside: My dad thinks ill of me. For some strange reason, he thinks I'm a spoilt brat who stays out late and gets drunk all the time. Like, what the hell? Since when has the Perfect Son ever been anything but Perfect? I'm more than a little upset at this strange impression he's concocted for himself since it can't be further from the truth.

Back to me: I believe in magic. When I was young, all I could think of was to learn how to fly, how to open gates to other worlds, how to make vases hum and burst into flames. I always imagined myself stepping through a door and ending up in another world. I dreamt about magic, I felt magic in the air. It's painful, to desire something so impossible. Maybe that's why I want to go into fashion, there's magic there when I can't find any in the world. Sometimes I sense it still. Magic that hides behind the facade of the mundane, Magic that makes me cry, that makes my heart ache for more. I still believe in Magic, that I may one day be swept away.

Believing in Magic is so much more fulfilling than believeing in Love.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll broods.

Had a really heavy lunch today so I can't eat anything for dinner. I went to Coffee Club with my ma and sis. My ma has this little quirk where she tries to trick me into eating more by agreeing to share food with me then telling me that she's full. So I ended up eating a wasabe prawn salad (which I ordered for myself only), a honey mustard chicken sandwich (the accursed trap), my favourite vanilla earl grey and then this chocolate tart which would have tasted far better if they'd used far better chocolate. I shall stay full till tomorrow.

Finished KH2. Felt really sad at the end. I may have been pushed over the edge by the last rendition of Sanctuary for Limewire calls to me now.

Stally mentioned me on his blog again, well, at least I'm honest about it.

What else is there do blog? Oh yes, stop trying to confuse me. Tell me what you mean, or don't.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll smiles.

Ha, ha, ha! I smell a hypocrite. You really are a fool, aren't you? If I still had the heart, I'd laugh.

The only reason why I'm even blogging now is because I'm trying to forestall doing my History S presentation. Argh, it is SUCH a bore. Well, not really. I've got the entire essay practically in my head, it's the setting it down on paper that's annoying.

Ah, that and food of course. Julia Child is an amazing chef and while most of you wouldn't know her, well, I wouldn't be surprised. The point being then that having read her book, I have a sudden urge to taste consomme double with morel mushrooms. It's served with little puff pastries stuffed with foie gras inside.

I love foie gras. Is there any surprise there? I don't love it because it's a delicacy or anything silly like that, I love it because it has such a taste to it! No, fat cannot compare to it because fat has a gelatinous texture which is nauseating. Foie gras on the other hand, melts in your mouth after you've pierced the frail resistance of the caramelized skin with the pinpricks of your fork. I cannot think of anything more delicious than foie gras. All right, I lie. I can but the point is, foie gras when done properly is as close to culinary orgasm as you can get. The other alternatives are all just as rich and delicious so I won't go into them now lest I get hungry. Needless to say, watching me eat anything I really love is not a good experience.

Slept for four entire hours after school since I left school at 1, reached home at 2 and woke up at 6. Ah, I love naps. What joy, if I could sleep for an entire day only to wake up once in a while to take some food before retiring once more.

Oh god, I just thought of eating tuna. Damn.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll bows down and prays.

I haven't blogged in a while. Most of my work is completed with History S and Econs S left. I was going to write something short here but I can't seem to remember.

Sometimes, I think it's just as well that I forget most of my thoughts so I can't put it here for people to read. It's just as well that only my friends that stay with me hear what I feel. All right, maybe not all friends. People can be cowardly, bitter, vainglorious and a thousand other things. But to have a single friend to whom I may whisper all my transient thoughts, to whom I may present a matrix of my mind, that is what I think would be nice.

This is a story of a web. It is a short tale, will be a short tale because webs never last. The story begins at the wakening of the spinner's eye where the web too begins. A first thread travelled eastwards towards the cradle of the Sun. There it bore with it Summer's cup brimming as it were with ichor gold and the dew of night.

The web spirals out, whence from the east it wound its way across mountain trails, across the spines and bellies of fossiled dragons, wending through the slippery maws of serpent streams and cresting upon the earliest dreams of men. So did the web cover the face of the land, this first engine of creation, on the first day of the spinner's awakening.

The spinner searches for this is a story of webs. He casts it far from his bosom, clutching one end with his fingers though the threads are so fine they slip through them only to be caught by the ends of his lashes, his brows, the sting of salt on his face, his nightmares and daydreams, his milky eyes turned brown, his mangled hair and a strange hollowness at his core.

The web catches things for this is what stories do well. Pieces of children's sleep, embraces of youths fragmented, yet none of what he seeks for. The spinner waits, he hums and the web grows for music is but another thread.

His tears turn to silk, wefting across the ragged edge of ropes. His laughter is as light, lifting the web into the sky.

This is a tale that ends though. The spinner grows old, he watches the Sun pass him by. The salt stings his face no more, his eyes are milky again. Then it happens.

The web hums.

He gathers it back, strand by strand he draws back the scattered cloak of his soul. The spinner spies something enmeshed within the silver nets (borne from his fears of age, tempered by resignation and the monotony of a metronome Sun). He pulls once, twice, once more.

The spinner sighs. The web breaks, no longer taut for the threads form pools of coiled sunshine. The spinner releases one last breath, the final thread, though he clutches the final gift of the web to his chest.

The spinner found his heart, perfect and whole.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll sighs.

You know you're too sappy when the storyline from a video game makes you moody. It happened in WA2 when I felt really sad for Marivel just because she was a vampire and had to live out the rest of her life in a giant castle. I felt sad too in FF10 but that's acceptable I guess since square was obviously trying to make somebody out there feel sad for those damn people. God they're all so serious in that game and the music doesn't help. You're asking me which game makes me sad now? It's kh2. You're asking me how a game featuring Disney characters and a pyscho retard called sora can make me sad? Well, I guess it's the idea of people losing their hearts and how they can't feel a thing but try to regain it all the same. Roxas makes me feel sad. The idea of having your life erased, your life meaning nothing and then having you know that it meant nothing, that you were meant to be a sacrifice anyway. Sigh, aren't video games supposed to make people happy? Really, if I wanted a nice story I'd hit the bookstore. So now I can't play the game without pitying Roxas and the fact that everyone in the game calls sora a traitor. Thank goodness I'm about to end it.

My sore throat sucks. I hope it goes away soon.

I really really hate the aftershock I get each time I finish experiencing something like that. Damn, please don't let this become one of those i-need-to-collect-everything-related-to-it episodes. Buying soundtracks can be sooo humiliating.

So I digress from the real world for a while. Hist S paper to prepare, Econs S test to take, Fund Management test to take, HoD essay to write and lastly, PC essay to write. Whee.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll laughs.

Impending sore throat. OOH I can just feel it. Damn.

My essay on Duchess of Malfi isn't coming along too well. I hope I don't get a C for it though I'm not very sure why I really care.

For better or for worse, I've changed. I can't recognize what used to be my past. The past has receded so far back until all that is left is some torn pages from another person's history.

All the tedium of life, all the joys of it. I want to drink from the cup of darkness, I want my body to be devoured by shadows. I want the vanity, the pride and the pain.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll pukes.

I am very proud of myself. It was going to rain but I went to run, tempting fate, I ran for 35 minutes and it rained when I stepped into the house. How cool is that?

OH and I made pumpkin ice cream. I don't have much finesse when I cook but well, I hope it tastes good.

Stally blogged and told me not to blog about not liking him and telling it to his face. It appears that irony eludes some people.

I LOVE THE GOVERNMENT. I love how inhumanely efficient they can be. I love how brutally pragmatic they can be. I love their can-do mentality. I love their absolute survival instinct. Our country is a lean mean fighting machine and we have all these ingrates trying to plug it up with welfare and human values. Hah.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll feels sad.

I rushed through the last pages of The Time Traveller's Wife because I didn't want to continue my crying binge. The story is tender, touching and it makes me want to smile and cry at the same time. There is something magical about the book that I fear because it whispers those most profane of words: true love is possible.

I hate it. I detest it. I abhor the way some people spend their whole lives looking for something so ephemeral as true love, something so painfully transient as soul bonding. Don't you know the devilry of lingering infatuation? I cannot abide by that sort of passion, that sort of devotion to another person in the strange belief that she or he happens to be the person you'd spend your entire life with.

The truth is people die. The truth is a love that strong once fade makes life thereafter all the more painful. The blaze that is extinguished leaves the room deeper in desolation than it was before. You'd go mad should your soulmate perish before you. Better a life devoted to some other passion, some other love eternal than the love of flesh and blood.

You wonder why Elizabeth wed herself to England. Damn if I don't wed my life to fashion.

On another note, I've realized that school has become increasingly boring for me which must mean that I've been spending either too much time on schoolwork or on doing trival stuff that doesn't consume brain power. It's time I resume my real studies on subjects that please me.

Antiques for one. I love antiques. Usually furniture, chinaware and other services, manuscripts and jewelry. I like furniture from the mid Ming dynasty and those from the late Qing dynasty. I also like furniture from the Louis XIV period and those from his heir though those tend to be rather effete. I'd like nothing more than to look over celadon wares, white glazed Southern Chinese wares, the rugged Annamite soft-pastes, apostles spoons from 14th century France and Vienna, old Wedgewoods and Dutch imitation porcelain. There is something tantalizing about old manuscripts, paper pamphlets turned yellow from neglect, leatherbound bibles made from vellum sheets and miraculously preserved Chinese manuscripts. Ah and jewelry, oh how wondrous is our very human obsession with adornment for cameos are beautiful. Antique jewelry, a duke's wealth in rubies set in the old way before faceting became the norm in Western Europe, the punctured gold belts from Java and the polished jades of the Chinese. I love the things Faberge made for the Russian monarchy, those beautiful eggs and little canons made from polished ivory for the tsars. All the enamels, the gold, the electrum, the settings, pearls, topazes, diamonds and onyxes.

You wonder why I fail to mention Africa and the Middle East? Because I'm not a global person and I wasn't really keeping track.

So I shall resume finding out more on international trade in the antique world, preferably between China and the rest of the barbaric realms.

Yeah, I will never reach the heights of philospohy nor that of reason but hell can I do luxury and fashion.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll smiles.

I shall have to stop sleeping in school now because I don't seem to have a mental clock built into my system. Didn't go for Econs S today principally because I woke up 22 minutes after the lesson had started and was too cowardly to face the wrath of Mr. Reeves.

What, I'd like to see you enter the LT 22 minutes late. For Econs S. For Mr. Reeve's Econs S.

I don't think there's anything worthy of note here save for the fact that I think I'm entering a phase of disorganization. This means that I shall have to screw up at something soon enough so that I get jolted out of this sense of calmness that has enveloped me for most of this year.

Things worry me even when they don't happen. Isn't that funny? I'm worried that some friendship I haven't been tending to could be crumbling as I write, that somewhere out there is somebody I could grow to care for who is shutting down from sheer despair as we speak.

Oh the horrors of knowledge. I'd sooner kill myself.

I just had a thought. Currently, academic stuff happens to be my work and I only indulge in the frivolity of fashion and luxury goods when I have the time. My future however, will rest in fashion and luxury goods being work. It'd be interesting to see how I manage to juggle everything because obviously, my mind will not atrophy and die from starvation just because I'm going to dedicate my entire life to the conception of luxury and sheer indulgence.

Be happy you don't have a goal in mind, oft it does seem that the most contented be the blind wandering youths.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll says hi.

Yesterday was nice though not as nice as it'd have been if we'd all gone out earlier and then got ourselves really drunk. All right, so I was late. Blame the customs for the delay. Seriously, do you think I could possibly want to go to malaysia of all places? I wouldn't step in there if it weren't for the fact that everything there's so cheap. Which scares me because their cost of production is so much less than ours. Argh, why did I have to learn economics? Now everything worries me.

Anyway, yeah, met Akesh, Bhavan, James, Candice, Liyana, Geri, Val and her petit ami Jordan. Haha, they're like so sweet. The area was quite crowded yesterday and after a lot of aimless walking, we found ourselves a place to stop by, what was that again, was it cafe iguana or something? Yeah, anyway, James, Geri and I went to the merchant court's lounge to have a starter first. Haha, well, Geri's starter happened to be her last because she drank a very nice lychee martini like it was a can of coke and her face was so red. Stuck with champagne. I think I'm addicted to bubbly, heck, I even like cocktails that fizz.

Geri had to go home afterwards. Damn.

Went to that cafe place to meet up with the rest. Reunion proved to be short-lived because it was really crowded and noisy. Candice came up with a nice suggestion so it was off to jazz at southbridge. Val and Jordan came along so it was quite nice. Had a good chat with them, god, I never knew I could talk with Candice! You learn all sorts of stuff when ya come out after the sun's gone down, ya know.

Honey Bears are delicious. Imagine that, manuka honey with vodka and lime juice. Sweet. Too bad Candice had to go back so early, decided to accompany her back to leave the couple alone. Sheesh, my drinking partner is sooo bu ziang yi qi. But nevermind, I'm happy that she's happy with someone who's as happy to be with her. Better than some weird freak anyway, or some jerk for that matter.

Today was altogether different. Having slept at 3 last night and having to wake up at 9 this morning wasn't fun. Still, managed to get down to Au Jardin at Les Amis.

You'd be surprised how having to wait for cabs makes my mother wish that I'd take driving lessons. I learn how to drive, she throws in a car. How cool is that?

Oh yeah, the brunch there wasn't too bad. Hell, it was actually delicious although not as delicious as I'd expected. I need something to give me culinary orgasm, not the comfy warm feeling of eating something familiar. Nonetheless, the ambience was there and nothing could be better than brunch there. It was really relaxed and the people there were great.

Food. I liked the asparagus soup which was buttery the way I like it. The entree buffet was quite nice too. I liked the asparagus alot because it was so fresh. The scallops were good too. The pheasant was a tad dry but heck, pheasant's game and it's meant to be. The mushroom salad was good and I really liked the stuffed peppers. What I really liked was the foie gras terrine because I am a die-hard fan of foie gras. I thought the potatoes could have used more truffles and less butter though. I love the bread rolls, especially the brown one because ya could taste molasses and grain. My main course was also a tad dry but it was salvaged by the inestimable sauce, some tomato fricasse which really was clever. Dessert was good. Really good. I loved the chocolate tart because the chocolate wasn't sweet, it was rich. The musk melon was delicious as was the apple and brandy custard.

It was a good meal overall that was made better with a stroll through the Botanic Gardens thereafter.

And then I've been slouching around for the entire day. Sheesh.

Won't talk about the elections now. Suffice to say, I'm very disappointed with the PAP this time round. This is NOT a strong mandate. This is a wake-up call.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll

I just thought of another idea. Why not have a Qing-styled spa?

Or another. Why not use the idea of importing spring water from Japan to do spa treatments?

Lol, my mother's thinking of going into things like that so I was just speculating.

Nothing much happened today that's of mention. History S was interesting.

Desir du jour: escargots baked in a white wine cream sauce with a hint of garlic enveloped in layers of filo pastry and almond slivers.

Blank Doll eats up.

Since I've finished my essay, I think I'm entitled to blog. Really glad that I've finished my econs mcq like ages ago so I don't have to worry about it.

Looking forward to saturday, wot? Come on guys, stay out longer leh.

I don't think I have much to blog today besides the harrowing news that Daddy has been admitted into the hospital. You know, the hospital gives me the chills even though I know that it is where people get better. I just hope nothing bad happens to him.

Came across some old newsletter in school while stoning during math tutorial. Some doofus from the past actually wrote that Rafflesians were hardworking and humble people with their innocence intact as they co-operated with one another to bring about better results all round.

Now where did that come from?

The idea of a wagyu beef burger haunts me still. Ignoring the idea that hawker fare is better because the uncles there have years of experience cooking the same thing (because it's plain silly since these chefs go through years of arduous training, hello, how do you think they happen to be able to make a chocolate souffle perfect everytime round?), I still want to try it. The point is, hawker fare has its own niceties and trust me, I love hawker fare. Especially if its oyster egg or wanton noodles. These things cannot be made in a stainless steel kitchen with two way jet-fuelled stove burners and a fridge I could sleep in but neither can the uncle downstairs make you a foie gras terrine if that's what you're wanting. Ok, I know. Sean, keen defender of snob appeal. Give me a break, you need to taste good food to know good food, so there.

Which gives me an idea, I shall include in every blog entry one food item that I happen to crave for.

Current craving: grilled crab cakes with watercress salad.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll rushes by.

Sean was going to launch into a set or two of his usual burden after running 5km but realised that he really isn't that enthusiastic about working out if it weren't for the looming spectre of National Service. This does not mean that Sean does not wish to serve it, only that it will be one hell of a time if he doesn't brush up on his physical faculty. The truth is, Sean regrets skiving off for the past years and if he could, would really have taken up a sport or something when he was still young. The notion of Sean learning a sport at the age of 18 makes him laugh in an uneasy manner. Sean can be like that sometimes.

Au Jardin hates me. They've refused to let me in and insists on putting me on the waiting list for brunch, no matter the date that I want to reserve. Snobs, I bet it was because I was like "aw maaan, really!?" which on hindsight, probably didn't sound classy. Geez, for once I don't talk down people and I get snubbed. Damn it.

Point 1: I am very disappointed in Gucci. I think it has gone down the drain without Mr. Tom Ford and it will only be a matter of time before people realize what shitty designs they have come up with and jilt the brand. Remember, Gucci wasn't that shiny in the 70s or the 80s. In fact, it was nearly consigned to the dustbin of fashion history if not for the leather-clad knight and his Ray-Bans. Looking through John Galliano's latest collection has inspired me, largely because I saw the same slit sleeves, matching of velvet and leather as well as the long coats that were in my sketchbooks. Givenchy is a bore, I can't wait till I get my hands on it. Mr. Pilati seems stuck in the archives of YSL because I see the same colour scheme used by M. St. Laurent thirty years back on the runway. Death by retro is not a good way for a brand to die.

Point 2: Along with my obsession with Chinese luxury goods comes my obsession with cuisine and I just had a thought. Why can't we elevate tea to the same level as wine in the course of dining? You commonly have a few glasses of different vintages for different dishes, well, why not the same for tea? Maybe you start of with something light, then a mudan cha to go with the vegetables, something robust for meat, end the meal with a strong almost bitter tea then have dessert with a light flower tea. You know what I mean? I think a restaurant serving food tailored specially to a course of teas would be really interesting. Heck, you know you heard it from me first if you ever see somebody doing this. :D

Thinking about Mrs. B's tutorial today about Sparkish and the runt of the pack thing. You know, I more or less fit into that cateogry wouldn't you say? I don't do sports, I'm pale and suitably weak and I'm quiet and subdued. Then I realised something, I never bother trying to be part of the pack so I can hardly be called a runt. I like to think that I'm some wandering visionary blind to his surroundings. You know, the sort of people who marvel at a flower in full bloom with the smile of an idiot. But I'm not that either. I'm a tad too cynical for that.

I'm just me. I'm mean, scheming, arrogant, jealous, paranoid, power hungry, materialistic, vain, selfish, egoistic and amoral. But I'm also nice, humble, hardworking, courteous, selfless, responsible, loyal and honorable. Funny, how I can be like that.

Aren't we all?

Take care of yourself Daddy. I see so little of you. Thanks for calling me just now or I wouldn't have known.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll speaks.

All Rafflesians should be pro-PAP. This is not a fallacy, it is accepting who you are. Most of us belong to the middle or upper income quintiles with relatively few of us coming from families that have to sweat it out just to send their children to school. Most of us will go on to receive a sound university education funded either by the government via scholarships or our parents. We will return to Singapore, take up high paying jobs and continue our happy existence away from the dreary quarters of Potong Pasir and some of the western heartlands.

Know where your interests lie my fellow brethren.

Yet I do not come from this privileged stock. No. My mother certainly came from the very districts that I am disdainful of. She grew up under poor circumstances and was no stranger to social welfare. At the age of 16, her friend was taken to Europe after her birthday and all my mother could do was make a secret wish that she too would be able to do it one day. She could not afford Mcdonalds when it arrived it Singapore, nor could she afford to eat an entire charsiew pau, only eating the skin which was what they gave to her.

Which is why I am infinitely proud of her. She has come so far and has risen so high above her circumstances that when she recounts her childhood to us, I feel as if it were a story from some other person's past. How can we as her children, so pampered and cared for beyond belief understand the pain that she has gone through? She has taken us to see the world since I was 9 and it is only now that I may partake in some of her joy when she took us to Europe when I was 10. Then I had thought it a fine thing, it is only now that I realize what a landmark it must have been in her life. Today, you wouldn't even think about asking me to eat dim sum from just about anywhere. Heck, you wouldn't ask me to eat from just about anywhere. She was forced to quit school after secondary four so that she could work. I have come to Raffles to bring to fulfilment that other secret wish of hers.

So you see, my mother has been a brave woman. She has lived through the scorn of others, the horrors of an unhappy past, the travails of becoming a financial advisor when she was but a housewife before that and above all, she has done a remarkable job in raising two children. From the darkness of her childhood, she has shown remarkable strength and it is all because of her today that my life is filled with so much hope and certainty in my ability to further the circumstances of our family.

She also doesn't get drunk. Now that's a feat.

C'est tout.

Blank Doll drank too much water.

Darius' birthday today! Spent Math lect and civics at J8 looking for a cake and all. Had coffee with Akesh and Edmond afterwards. We bought this really funny cake with "New Bundle of Joy" written on it and a Hello Kitty one. It tasted sorta gross but heck, it was from Polar so. THE POINT BEING, we are a damn nice class so there.

Econs S was great. You know your country has done great and the PAP has done an excellent job when your ang moh teacher grudgingly gives Singapore credit for her achievement amidst all that poking fun at the government's penchant for telling people how to mind their business. So vote for the PAP guys, you know you should.

I was going to write something about history, beside my South East Asian essay but I can't remember. Somewhere at the back of my head, a thought was formed and lost. I think it was something about there being no such thing as objective history. Or if there is, it isn't the same as what historians seek. What they seek is history devoid of the distortion that is often the mark of a historian. But is that what we need? Do we need an unfeeling, unthinking recount of every little minute detail from the dawn of civilisation? I hardly think that history was meant to fulfil that function. But nevermind, I'll elaborate once I get my thoughts together. I really must jot things down when I think of them though that's usually hard because it usually happens in the toilet. Funny how all thoughts originate from the toilet. The Lord of the Rings originated from the toilet. Of course, that's not really sharp thought because if it would have been a lot shorter if it were.

Gone.

That about sums it up.

C'est tout.