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I've had this lifelong dream of getting a lovely toned stomach with two lines running down the middle for as long as I can remember. Yeah, sure I exercise like a dog four times a week - weights, yoga, BodyPump, running....anything as long as I sweat! You'd expect me to be as thin as sin and as fit as one of those Olympian runners if you didn't know me better.

But. No. It ain't happening. Why? Because I can't give up food. I love food. I live to eat. Hell, even as I write this I have a container of nuts and raisins next to me. Yeah, I get my guilty days when I feel as though I've eaten just over enough to feed the Royal Navy and then I live off salads for the next couple of meals. But it ends there. After purgatory, I revert back to my old self and wonder what to cook for dinner again. Chicken curry? Fried noodles? Beef stew? Perhaps try a new restaurant? Food, food, food. There are so many things to eat!! I don't care if I sound like a glutton right now.

If people can make a living out of studying cortical spreading depressions in the brain, cooking actually seems to be a brilliant career choice. There is something thrilling about bustling about in the kitchen and an even greater thrill when you look at the fruits of your labour after twenty minutes. Cooking is not difficult at all, but it requires passion - as hackneyed and overused as that bloody phrase sounds. But like most hackneyed sayings, it's followed by the obligatory "It's true!" You need lots and lots of enthusiasm if you want people to remember the flavours of your food. For instance, I've realized over this academic year that my curry varied with different moods. I would make curry during my exam period, and it would come out watery and incredibly bland. Kind of like how I was feeling at the time. And then when I wasn't so stressed, it came out creamy and pedas enough to numb your tastebuds just the way I wanted it to. If you cook half-heartedly, your food will taste like shit. Frankly.

Anyway. Er. Basically...I'm just wondering casually in a non-regretful way now why I didn't choose to go to cooking school instead. Hm. Gosh, are my thoughts disjointed.

See, all this sort of came about after watching Gordon Ramsay on TV yelling non-stop at the poor broke bastard on Kitchen Nightmares. I would make this post a lot cleverer but I'm just talking out of my bum as usual.

Night.

Watching the marathon live at 2AM makes me want to run for my life. I might just. This Romanian woman is amazing. She's whizzed past right ahead; she's all alone! Watching Michael Phelps power through water also makes me want to swim a lot faster once my navel piercing heals over. Hurray for healthy living!

And who knew that Malaysian sports would finally see the golden light of day at the summer Olympics? Finally! Malaysia boleh, for once? Please LAH, Mr Lee!

As I sit here, wiping the sleep from my eyes, I wonder what the chances of me going out and bumping into someone I know. Used to know. Same difference. Statistically speaking, probably quite low. But there are some days when you feel that gods of Chance are at work. What Twoface said in Batman - that there is no God, only Chance - is probably quite untrue. Why? If Chance can be equated to God, then surely there must be an antithesis to Chance. Which is what? The gods of Pre-Determination? Fate, then, surely? Some people believe you can determine your own fate, whereas others just let Fate take its course. Hah. Well. Me. I think Fate and Chance only come into play when you've done everything right and somehow everything else manages to fuck up for no rhyme or reason. Then only do you question the existence of such factors. When everything is going swell, nobody questions God or Fate or Chance. Hardly anyone counts their blessings. Maybe that's something everyone should aim toward, you know? Just so you won't feel like a loser when statistics don't favour you.

It's been raining incessantly for the past two weeks. This is not summer. I can't wear my skimpy dresses or sunglasses. Thank goodness I didn't buy new sunnies. The antithesis to the gods of materialism have saved me. Well, not really. But nobody else has to know.


The shade is a tool, a device, a saviour
See, I try and look up to the sky
But my eyes burn

There was a rainbow in the sky as I walked out after the rain today. It looked nascent and pretty. When you walk away, the rainbow follows.

Sometimes all you need is a good support system and a rainbow to get through to 20 years.

And Family Guy.




Here's to the next one hundred, baby.




I'm not a teenager anymore. Not that I've really ever felt like one to begin with.

The simple things in life that bring about a transient state of euphoria

- Crackhead friends
- Cake
- Sex and the City
- Photos from my fugly but adorable Instax Mini 7 camera
- Showering after sweating like a pig at the gym
- Stalking overpriced handbags online
- Thinking about buying said overpriced handbags
- Piercings
- Quirky jewellery
- Rain
- Family Guy
- Pink leather notebooks