tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54479698105258575832012-02-13T23:12:11.847+08:00You're a charmer... with a snake.broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.comBlogger5811100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-33099543114326629552012-02-12T16:47:00.001+08:002012-02-12T16:49:15.386+08:00

It must’ve been dark magic. Why else would anyone, why else could anyone, put up with the torture?He changed his mind about me as often as I change my mind about him. In that sense, we were in sync; we were as fickle as rain, restless. I’d wake up in the middle of the night wanting to see him so badly, sometimes. This happens when we go cold turkey on each other. It could be months, before we

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-21323249627912001922011-09-12T00:44:00.000+08:002011-09-12T00:49:55.496+08:00

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-1626417895051960402011-09-11T23:41:00.004+08:002011-09-12T00:25:18.781+08:00

I've always been obsessed with this blog, since I started it back in OMG 2007! Feels like as if I've raised a toddler. I used to dream and plan out what to write. And i used to get almost a hundred unique hits a day. All that in my blog's prime.I thought i never would stop writing regularly here. But I suppose, i sorta did - eventually, sometime in April - May 2010. I just didn't have anything

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-28472917172923013602011-08-29T01:48:00.001+08:002011-08-29T01:48:47.326+08:00

So, I'm trying out mobile blogging and adding pictures to my post via my iPhone (who i have still not named despite being together for over a year). I'm using blogspace, btw, a free app that i hope won't leave traces of itself at the end of my post.So there you go. It works. And that is an extremely pointless picture of myself. It's cute. Or so i'd like to think. I have always wanted a cat. But i

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-148825498075400432011-07-12T00:12:00.001+08:002011-07-12T00:12:44.000+08:00

I'm not sure what I want. Or what it is that will truly make me feel like.. I'm happy.I am happy. When I'm at work. Or when i go down for lunch and wonder what we should do - grab a salad, sit by the river, walk around and shop, eat someplace nice, explore...? I'm so lost honestly. I think I've got it all figured out in my head but i'm so worried all the time! I worry that i'm not doing enough to

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-64207682644366650492011-07-04T09:40:00.001+08:002011-07-04T10:08:44.103+08:00

Remember when you were young, and you thought that you're suffering from a broken heart of some sort, only to wake up and realise that hey... nothing strawberry milkshake and a trip to my grandma's house can't fix!Little did I know that my heart would be kicked around a couple of times, until I kinda lost sight of it.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-24410238243048279332011-06-27T23:39:00.002+08:002011-06-27T23:48:37.464+08:00

You know what's the best way to take a goood look at yourself and the person you've become? It's not through the bloody mirror anymore. It's facebook.I do that alot. Sometimes, that's all I do on facebook. I click on my profile and painstakingly go through every bit of information I posted on myself. I stalk myself, worst than I've stalked any ex-boyfriend (haha if you know me well, you would

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-46807597817580634032011-06-19T21:33:00.002+08:002011-06-20T17:54:37.213+08:00

I have been running away. Everytime something goes wrong, I bury myself in a new project.My answer to handling grieve? Make money.Coping with a break up? Make money!Heartache and annoyance? Money!Anger and frustration? Money, of course.And I'm not saying that I actually have a lot of money (which I honestly don't because I love spending more than making) so at the end of the day... I have nothing

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-62079297998616834902011-06-19T21:15:00.001+08:002011-06-19T21:15:44.916+08:00

Like seriously. My weekends are getting pretty mundane it's fucked up. I don't really know what I can do to pass the time except... sleep.I cannot wait for july to come around. I think. And as much as we all pretend that it doesn't matter... It'll be nice to have a summer boyfriend! Someone to catch Lion King with & hit USS with. Or just someone i'd make plans with which I'd actually bother to

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-65320592093503307742011-05-09T19:12:00.001+08:002011-05-09T19:12:00.342+08:00

Wouldn't it be nice if I could just have everyone in my life exactly where I'd like them to be. I'd have this great gigantic floorplan that looks like a polly pocket house of sorts - except that it's an extremely detailed map of my world.I'd put my folks on the plane and click them into place, send em off for a honeymoon.I'd have 2 maids to take care of all the household chores. I'd meet my bffs

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-58602920366369546282011-05-06T18:44:00.001+08:002011-05-06T18:44:22.398+08:00

Been the best week of 2011 so far.1) crafts at OKA turned out great, on both Sunday and Monday! Kids look happy and we're slowly building up our own database! The guitar wasn't quite a hit, as we thought it would be. The barn house they were making at the other table turned out even more awesome, i suppose. 2) I PERMED MY HAIR.3) First meeting for the anniversary party we're organising went great

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-7876730736723536112011-04-29T11:03:00.003+08:002011-04-29T11:16:54.693+08:00

I find endless of ways to amuse myself. Because I realised that no one will do it for me.Haha so I got myself fake hair extensions.It's strange but little things like those make me happy. Like really giggly happy. I have wonderful friends, I really honestly do. Yanni, Farah, Zoe, Aiida, Debrah, Brendan, Aaron, Sohail, Haziq, Khai (this one makes a really good friend despite being THE MOST

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-47566610768105204782011-04-23T23:04:00.001+08:002011-04-23T23:04:44.156+08:00

I'm probably more broken than i realised. Haha even Tala could feel the not-so-positive awful energy around me. Dogs don't really like evil people. And haziq's cat hates my touch. Been a rough week of pet-rejection.That's it. I give up. Maybe animals are smarter than humans. Humans gamble. Animals would rather play safe and stay away from what they know would harm them. Other than that... I'm

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-8147723704483507392011-04-22T10:29:00.004+08:002011-04-22T10:48:28.950+08:00

Hello. I think it has come to a point whereby I am obsessed with ensuring that I do get what I'm after. Through all the right, legitimate ways. It's like I'm suddenly challenging and expecting so much out of myself... And realising that I've been nothing but a disappointment.Like that interview on Wednesday. I actually studied the organisation instead of my aesthetics paper (which I hope I did

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-48596288659352639912011-04-13T01:09:00.002+08:002011-04-13T01:29:34.458+08:00

I've been typing and backspacing and typing and typing and hating the report writing....All while thinking about something entirely different. I think I need some down time before I plunge into something new again.I wanna just roll without a care in the world. I cannot think. And part of me refuses to think.All I know is that these days... I kinda like emoticons ^^

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-72352789406906031792011-04-07T00:05:00.001+08:002011-04-07T00:08:22.981+08:00

When will I ever learn, really.As much as i pretend to be free spirited and cool, going with the flow and all... I like a little constant in my life. And when it's gone (regardless of whatever it is, no matter how breifly it appeared & decides to disappear) i just cannot help but miss it ever so horribly.Until it pops back into my life. And actually shows signs of staying... I'll automatically

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-63233006724188532542011-04-04T00:53:00.001+08:002011-04-06T23:56:19.148+08:00

The entire year has so far been purely about getting ahead and achieving my career-related goals ever since that godforsaken shitty start to my 2011. I can still feel that disgust and disappointment at the back of my throat but anyway that really brought me down to earth and made me realise where i'm lacking - not really in the looks department (hehe) but rather, my OUTLOOK on life.I've got this

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-42911920187141790762011-03-25T00:32:00.001+08:002011-03-25T00:32:57.174+08:00

A little boy asked his mother, “Why are you crying?““Because I need to,” she said.“I don’t understand,” he said.His Mom just hugged him and said, “And you never will.“Later the little boy asked his father, “Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?““All women cry for no reason,” his dad answered carelessly.The little boy, still wondering why women cry, finally asked the old wise Shaikh (scholar)

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-75631396917361155562011-03-20T11:50:00.002+08:002011-03-20T23:13:14.450+08:00

This is my favouritest dimply baby in the world & i am solucky to feel even 1/8th as happy as she is right now!It's been a pleasure, having you make this week a little brighter than the other weeks before :)P/S: I like the way you walk. Like you can fold over and trip up. It's like a happy little bounce and it amuses me to great lengths.You're sloppy. But adorable.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-18959357510599576932011-03-17T01:04:00.001+08:002011-03-17T01:04:40.824+08:00

I really have alot of things that I need to let go off.Piece by piece, I thought. But the pieces keep coming back. So maybe a clean chop would be good, like an emotional amputation of some sort? Cannot believe that my maid is leaving tmr :( Sigh. Let go, just let. It. Go.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-84785579696164521112011-03-13T22:42:00.002+08:002011-03-13T23:08:27.437+08:00

It's been a week, exactly, since I-AM officially ended.And I didn't expect so much to happen in one short week but hell, it did. I-AM, opened up alot of opportunities. It exposed me, emotionally and also professionally.I managed to catch up with people I was dying to run to only to realise that I'm safest and at my sanest alone but then again, where's the fun in that? Then there were also people

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-31650734664685086692011-03-12T14:31:00.002+08:002011-03-13T21:12:57.608+08:00

It's a little scary how we can be sitting on the same ledge, laughing and dissing about the same things... But yet be an entire universe apart.I feel like i'll be alright, no matter what. I'll always be alright. But i'll be better and finer if you're the one at the end of the line.Not now. I'm not good enough now (and neither are you, btw) but once we figure it out, I believe that we'd be so good

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-51223502103261412512011-03-03T23:57:00.001+08:002011-03-03T23:57:05.479+08:00

I realise that marrying someone (even an average joe with average connections) will mean that i'll automatically gain a bigger network without having to do the actual networking myself. I shall look for one on facebook right now. Reserve first. Hahaha fucking hell i am going bonkers. Anw i'm blogging as a form of documemtation on how I feel after my very first official Opening Night for an event

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-81890323613215496942011-02-18T20:14:00.002+08:002011-02-18T20:20:09.697+08:00

When you've had one too many bad days, week after week, after week... you realise that you tend to appreciate every single thing that makes you smile because it becomes such a feat.Like on Valentine's day, I smiled, albeit sadly after the free hug from some random girl at Clarke Quay.And that baby tic tac that Zoe gave me last Weds, how can I not smile at that?Then there's that boy, at Bedok PCF

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-35964100117604219332011-02-09T23:40:00.002+08:002011-02-16T01:11:28.299+08:00

Dust settles. Porcelain dolls and china collect dust that settles.Are you dust? Or are you the the china that collects dust?You're not even drizzle anymore. You have turned into dust. You are dust, resting on her bosoms. One quick sweep - poof. Gone.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-14651008361250413542011-02-09T23:15:00.002+08:002011-02-16T01:11:59.746+08:00

"Do you know that if you go an entire day without smiling... It's actually a really long time?"But i'm not frowning."No, but you have the unhappiest face in the room."My face is tired, i guess."Many people are tired, but they're not unhappy."They could be, just that you don't know it."There's a difference."You know what this conversation, is pissing me off.-prepares to leave-"Now you're angry."

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-91498155278470332252011-02-06T00:10:00.002+08:002011-02-16T01:13:09.796+08:00

Can't shake off my foul mood. If anything it's just getting from bad to worse.I don't know what's hurting me. Just that i hurt everywhere and it's so darn hard to find peace anywhere at all.Work is not a vocation. But a new project could be.On top of everything else, just when i've finally found my glitter, someone's taken the gleam.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-36906464710491439142011-01-16T22:55:00.003+08:002011-01-16T23:04:17.794+08:00

I always worry about not having a place to go to when I stop thinking. When my mind wanders off on its own uninhibited. What if it reaches a dead end. What if I start to unconsciously stare at a wall in my mind's eye. Now THAT is depressing.Perhaps that's why people don't want to let go off things... at least not till they find a suitable distraction that fulfills your mind, spirit & body.Can't

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-2272854707521325542011-01-11T21:57:00.002+08:002011-01-11T22:01:31.116+08:00

Honestly do not think i've been this unhappy before.It's not that I don't want to live anymore. I just don't know how to.I feel relentlessly tired all the time. Sometimes I just giggle at random things to like, test it out, see how it sounds. I wouldn't wanna misplace my giggles. Not that I think it sounds good or anything like that... giggling, to me, is pretty much the closest I can get to

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-51064627742344752322011-01-07T00:27:00.001+08:002011-01-07T00:40:20.555+08:00

Blog entries are funny little things. I can use them to manipulate your thoughts... and I especially use it a whole lot to impress myself upon you. I want you think i'm this tortured, eccentric, crazy person you can relate to. Because I'm not all that different from you... But yet you can't blog the way I do. So you read me instead.I want to write things that are mundane but somehow strikes a

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-80098838318823640402011-01-02T19:37:00.001+08:002011-01-02T19:37:09.588+08:00

I intended to post an entry in self reflection. But i don't see the point.2010 was a pretty great year that could've ended better. I just didn't picture spending New Year's eve like that. But i guess you make new plans when the one you fantasize about burst into flames.I have made a conscious decision to grow my hair long. Ha. That's about all i have to say for now. I've yet to figure out the

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-36085028054197524282010-12-25T23:31:00.001+08:002010-12-25T23:31:53.459+08:00

When u try to be friends with someone you've been in a relationship with, it's hard. It's like 2 magicians trying to entertain each other. You know all their tricks. One will go ahead and pull out a rabbit outta a hat and the other would go... "so?" It'll just end with a "Let's cut this shit out, saw each other in half and get the hell outta here."Haha. Why do we all even bother. It's hard work.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-25437704979510794902010-12-25T21:26:00.001+08:002010-12-25T21:29:40.412+08:00

I don't feel quite as lost anymore. I've discovered that i can still have fiction for company. And have it feed my soul and liven my otherwise dead and dull one track mind. I finally read :) Nono, i meant, i still can! I can still read a book, cover to cover and not be bored halfway. I can still have someone interest me from the start till the end. My attention span is not faulty. I just haven't

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-47559341949717721802010-12-14T00:07:00.002+08:002010-12-14T00:10:18.048+08:00

I hate it when people who have found love early on in their lives seem to think that they know it all. Yeah i know that you prolly got it right somewhere along the way... But it really doesn't mean that the rest of us got it all wrong. We tried too. Probably harder & in many more different ways than you have. It's just our misfortune that it did not play out like your fairytale. But you know what

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-55854099715173508632010-12-11T01:21:00.003+08:002010-12-11T01:36:59.627+08:00

I... wish to have breakfast and feel like a normal person who can wake up before 11 am and not check emails or send out emails. But it's the first thing I do, in hopes of good news. Somedays are just more disappointing than others but no point getting yourself trapped over news like those I suppose.I also have not managed to catch the sun set at all in the last two years. Have just realised this.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-51232402843516253442010-12-06T13:42:00.001+08:002010-12-06T13:42:33.812+08:00

A Sagittarius woman lacks tact and her flat, on-the-face statements may make you feel like running away from her. Then, suddenly, she will say something so charming that you will feel as if you are on the seventh heaven. There, you go again! You will be trapped in her charm once more. Once you have been enamored by a Sagittarius girl, you will be staying with her for a long time (hah i fail). She

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-36307739256882160352010-12-04T23:51:00.004+08:002010-12-05T01:14:26.140+08:00

It's the time of the year.I could use a midnight bottle. Midnight midnight midnight bottle.Too sluggish to work. I just want to sit somewhere and throw my hands up in the air. Drown everything deep deep and feel it die inside of me.I'm not sure what I'm typing anymore. Here, on my blog and on the various word documents - can I just skip everything already.I hope... for a year end miracle. For

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-61089552399090769452010-11-28T11:58:00.024+08:002010-12-05T01:00:54.394+08:00

This is probably the first batch of photos you're about to see on Broccolee this year. My Island Creamery surprise I totally did not expect the girls to be there!!! Was only expecting Yanni, Farah, Haziq and maybe Sohail & Andy (who totally let it slip)... But then came Jannah,Shafika and Syarfa!! And hakim too who was so sleepy but still came anw thank you you guyssss. That is Yanni's

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-48990650032802850312010-11-23T02:14:00.006+08:002010-11-23T03:12:36.331+08:00

I've always hated birthdays.It is of no significance, really. I hate it when they're yours. I hate it when it's mine. I just hate the whole fuss. It's like, society expects you to make a fuss. Oh trust me, I've witnessed some horribly redundant celebrations that irked me to no end because it's so pointless, it borders on diabolical - especially since i'm expected to participate in a routine so

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-91408808508533581172010-11-17T00:51:00.000+08:002010-11-17T00:52:44.550+08:00

I am very pissed with Britain's Top Model. Keeps showing on Starworld.I think it's ok for them to not be pretty. Yeap. It's absolutely fine. Coz they're like, already stick thin.I cannot comprehend how they can not eat.I really cannot.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-38054285588376653672010-11-15T20:28:00.002+08:002010-11-15T20:55:40.276+08:00

It really seems like the harder i try to be positive and make things fine... the more things will be determined to go wrong.Enough already. I'm really not that strong to keep trying to make things right. I'm not that strong to keep planning and planning and PLANNING only to have everything taken away. It's not fair that i'm being made to start over and over again.Maybe it's the universe telling

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-51555982484658697752010-11-07T19:43:00.002+08:002010-11-07T19:49:43.494+08:00

Staring out my window, watching the rain dance and i suddenly remembered the lamest but most decadently told story: Songs of the Sea.Hahaha funny, i watched it with Syahir on my left and Hafeez on my right. It was defo our first time and we were all so godforsakenly smelly & sticky and totally shagged out after running all over the place with the monsters for two consecutive days.Boy were we in

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-33031271715992419092010-11-04T23:08:00.004+08:002010-11-04T23:28:33.530+08:00

Loneliness was at first intimidating.It's so easy to forget how to be with just yourself when one gets surreptiously involved with another.I was afraid of spending evenings alone with a silent phone. See, it wasn't just one evening, or a couple, even. I could be spending every hour for the next seventy two wondering how to fill up the upcoming one.Everytime this happens, I'd sleep alot. I'd go

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-77545357769228199462010-11-01T22:04:00.004+08:002010-11-01T22:33:20.834+08:00

Hi.Tonight, I've posted one too many entries all over the web because I've decided to exploit my many many accounts. It's like a blogging spree. I like it coz it's free!I am incredibly sick. Physical breakdown. My body can't take it. But my mind, apparently just won't stop and rest (cause it's prolly been resting all the while). And so, I'm sneezing at the rate of 17 times per half hour and my

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-25888688627890368612010-10-29T20:20:00.001+08:002010-10-29T20:20:18.505+08:00

I can deal with fatigue, anxiety, work overload, last minute quality submissions, critique, physical discomfort, ugly bruises on my shin that'll take ages to clear up, a rash that's developing all over my tummy, 2 minute showers without a shampoo, naughty kids stepping over my head, stupid questions, stupid people... And so so so much more.But.I can't deal with this unfathomable despair that's

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-44403469242743529942010-10-26T01:47:00.002+08:002010-10-26T01:49:36.670+08:00

It honestly is tougher than I thought it would be.I am not as great as I think I am. And he wasn't as bad as I thought he was.Maybe it's the night time talking and I'm running out of things on my to-do list.Note to self: Extend list.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-46146777660912232102010-10-13T23:14:00.001+08:002010-10-13T23:14:03.517+08:00

Sometimes i feel really bad when people are exceptionally lovely to me.Because i really don't know if i can ever return the favour. I don't know if i have the capacity to... Or the ability to give them a hug even, to make them feel better. I remember abt what Jesz said before... Something along the lines of "i've got no human instinct, no soft skills" and that's kinda true. I overlook the

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-7853245032206936122010-10-10T14:25:00.003+08:002010-10-10T14:52:19.946+08:00

Feeling a little chatty this afternoon. Wanna talk talk to myself.So what's been happening? Alot of things and I don't even know where to begin. But let's not talk about the unpleasant stuff, yeah?Our little event next year's taking flight - Art in the World of Oz. As unexpected as it seems... my team has decided to do something child-based. Not my first choice but okay, suck thumb. I've been

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-62208323890791092332010-10-05T01:52:00.002+08:002010-10-05T02:14:26.812+08:00

Maybe it's because it's 1:53am. Maybe it's because I'm just tired and I feel like a bitch. Maybe it's because I'm on the roll. I don't know. I'm just so upset and I feel like banging away on my laptop.I don't get it.Your friends are acting like Menelaus did for Helen of Troy (yeah everybody can see their declarations of affection that's on Facebook considering that we now share a common pool of

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-60184980740815484052010-10-04T23:11:00.001+08:002010-10-04T23:11:51.313+08:00

I'm not afraid of change. Not anymore. Change is good. Change allows you to live every moment delectably, like as if you won't be able to have a taste of any part of it, ever again.Most importantly, change does not give you a chance to take anything or anyone for granted. Change is like, an act of infidelity in one's own right. It shakes things up, throws you off balance and drives you insane.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-56912063007566847572010-10-04T22:50:00.001+08:002010-10-04T22:50:51.529+08:00

I wish i live somewhere that's perpetually yet comfortably cold, like London, in Feb. I can hide under jackets and coats and nobody wld have to know how much blubber i have underneath. Everyday before i head out, i'd bundle myself in layers and i'd always be in long sleeved sweaters or my knitted granny cardis. Nobody wld be able to see my arms. They'd prolly just think i'm this happy bundle of

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-51031377903424396902010-10-02T21:13:00.001+08:002010-10-02T21:13:46.741+08:00

I can't stand it sometimes. It just gets so bad.Sent from my iPhone, Lolo

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-10634674299197493582010-09-29T06:36:00.002+08:002010-09-29T06:59:52.497+08:00

I miss blogging here. I shall return one day, I suppose. Someday. Or not at all. I don't know.I just wish that things could be easier. But they never were. And I suppose it's easy enough, since I've always coped. I cannot remember a time where I gave up. I keep making the wrong choices. Say the wrong things. Run the wrong direction. Invest in the wrong people. Maybe that's giving up. I can safely

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-50104566253728329122010-09-12T11:50:00.003+08:002010-09-12T12:07:47.249+08:00

Some days I believe.But most days, I just want to leave.I think about leaving all the time.No, I'm not talking about relationships.I think about leaving the house, leaving school and ultimately, leaving the country. When I run, I feel like i'm leaving time behind. When I tell K that I want to leave, time and time again, I realise that what I'm actually doing is testing his limits. And testing

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-57234612262536352052010-09-06T16:30:00.000+08:002010-09-06T16:31:34.897+08:00

Finally put myself on the train to school, 2 hours before that redundant lesson ends after a session with Y and C. On the go planning for H's birthday come Oct all while thinking about the music assignment & mentally picking out friends who can potentially make other friends happy (facebook's like a human catalogue engineered for quick fix-ups). Productivity increases by a ten-fold when your own

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-81731065442781940602010-09-05T16:56:00.004+08:002010-09-05T17:14:52.083+08:00

1) Date someone with a trustfund so I could put school on hold for awhile and travel the world, see new things and stay away from Singapore till I don't feel so... blah.2) Eat Ben & Jerry's Peanut Butter Cups!!!!3) Give Illustrator/Photoshop one good shot tomorrow in class. I'm still unbelievably lost.4) Make Farah drop everything and take a vacation with me & my trustfund baby (refer to #1).5)

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-34065954823384815492010-09-01T23:28:00.000+08:002010-09-01T23:29:08.652+08:00

Whenever I hear those old evergreen raya songs, I really feel like I haven't completed any of my assignments.I get very restless and I'll get all bothered over things like readings for the next class, etc (stuff I don't give a shit abt unless I hear the raya songs).I know. Very peculiar habits. What I cannot wait is to go get that bubble tea + yakult in between breaks come next fridaaaay! No more

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-77429640983057251802010-08-31T15:27:00.001+08:002010-08-31T18:35:06.863+08:00

Waking up makes me sick. When there's no school. Or no gallery to beat myself over. Gawd. I don't know what kinda phase I'm going through in life but I should really just suck it up. And stop getting all confused.I can't keep using sleep, school and work as a distraction. Sometimes I wish I don't have a love life. Oh. Right. I. Don't. Have. One. Just general waves of interest from some guy I've

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-43594071634172698552010-08-29T01:28:00.002+08:002010-08-29T01:31:24.489+08:00

I think every guy should watch The Break Up.Anyway, have I mentioned how much I love Jennifer Aniston? She did this after the whole Brangelina shit.My stupid gums hurt. And the ulcers are making me cranky.Goodnight.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-70783048717238251292010-08-21T22:44:00.001+08:002010-08-21T23:08:56.590+08:00

I lie in bed but I can't sleepOn the ledge but I can't leapEven doing nothing is so hard to doOn my tongue but I can't speakThe simple things are sometimes deepI only hope that this means something to youI want to spend my life with you right by my sideCause when you kiss my lips I see lightning in the skyThat's likeOne step forward and two steps backThis is like a hurricaneWhen you're with me

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-4558520468759724042010-08-20T20:59:00.000+08:002010-08-20T21:00:29.730+08:00

I'm so pissed and frustrated and so damn clueless and passionless about everything.What's the point really, what's the point?? Why am I doing anything anymore, when I don't believe, when faith is running out and when I think of changing my career path like 976 times a year!Why am I so difficult to love anyway? I listen, I offer different perspectives, I'm patient and I always strive to be more

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-19735348681475790972010-08-14T22:09:00.000+08:002010-08-14T22:10:08.081+08:00

Meet my new buddy, Lolo. I can't decide on her last name. Ownership of Lola Smokah has been bestowed upon my very reluctant sister. She claims that Lola is still pining for meI hate that I can replace Lola so easily. But she can't take photos. And send msgs. Which ultimately reminds me that all of the text messages that I've painstakingly saved over the months are gone now. They're in the old

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-21441369098040235602010-08-11T08:57:00.000+08:002010-08-11T08:56:20.571+08:00

And today, I dragged a carcass out of bed.Why why why these extreme mood swings I really can't tell anymore.Sent from my iPod, Lola Smokah

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-29994302532489732332010-08-10T10:13:00.000+08:002010-08-10T10:12:24.776+08:00

Good morning!I'm still incredibly happy today. No dark places for me :)Sent from my iPod, Lola Smokah

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-4207632074524980292010-08-08T23:18:00.003+08:002010-08-08T23:46:32.464+08:00

It was one of those days where everything was just wrongier than wrong could have ever been.My editor was clearly annoyed with my half-hearted submissions & I couldn't be bothered to put together an article worthy for anyone at all to read. Lunch made me sick and the after effects made me bloated, causing my face to look fattier than fat could have ever looked on me through that reflection on my

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-74015756795529583612010-08-01T00:47:00.000+08:002010-08-01T00:46:29.912+08:00

When you decide to open yourself up ... It's never just to one person, really. There are things that I wish I can keep away from the world completely.But i let you in. I didn't know I was letting in more than one guest.Guests.We're still guessing, waiting to see if I'm just a visitor in your life or if you are just taking a vacation in mine.Still, I let you in. And I'm taken aback yet amazed

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-64901570143486556762010-07-30T14:31:00.003+08:002010-07-30T14:43:38.744+08:00

Can I please have a main male character in my stories this time around?

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-74794794889245130372010-07-27T12:53:00.002+08:002010-07-27T13:04:41.156+08:00

I've got a sudden idea.I want to document my life in writing. Who would want to read something that's all about me, right?So no, I want to include all of you in. I want to write about the wonderful and interesting people I've met. It'll be such a waste not to, with the likes of AM3A, my bestest best friend who's watched me grow and my other bestest best friend who made me grow (in all sense of

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-61350529780638067182010-07-25T22:05:00.006+08:002010-07-27T11:32:51.377+08:00

There are things in life that people don't speak/write about easily. They write about love and they wail about loss.But they don't dare describe madness. It's almost unspeakable. Because if we speak so knowingly about the disease in our own little heads, we'd be found out. They keep silent and pretend to go on living, thinking that heartbreak and losing love is the toughest thing they'd have to

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-45853570782736533922010-07-23T16:37:00.002+08:002010-07-23T16:46:26.359+08:00

Whether you like it or not, gone are the days of roses, hastily scrawled love poems, and sweet serenades crooned lovingly outside a fair maiden’s window.Today, women may pretend like they want to be courted by a chivalrous gentleman, but in reality the chivalrous man has about as much chance of netting the girl of his dreams as Helen Keller has of winning a darts competition. Women want a

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-68151195157552486152010-07-23T14:33:00.005+08:002010-07-23T15:04:34.129+08:00

It's too fucking hard.I miss being all by myself in a world where if I'm pleased, then everybody's pleased :)Times where I don't care if anybody else is unhappy as long as I'm happy (or sometimes when I'm being mean, their unhappiness is directly proportionate to my happiness). Oh good gooood times.Anywayyy, I feel like running to Farah's house later after work. Or rather, try running. I might

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-82416875628292018842010-07-22T00:58:00.001+08:002010-07-22T00:58:47.845+08:00

Please please please don't deliberately ________ me.I wouldn't know what to do.Sent from my iPod, Lola Smokah

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-62260018389734224552010-07-21T10:53:00.000+08:002010-07-21T10:57:27.876+08:00

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-59333843420626317222010-07-19T11:38:00.004+08:002010-07-20T17:10:24.512+08:00

I think I've just discovered that the school term starts on the first week of August.That is, if the timetable up on the learning portal is accurate. Our class code is AM5A yes?ohmyshitohmyshit.I just spent my holidays working from 10am - 7pm everyday (and blogging in between too, hehe)So school starts on the 3rd of August. And we end at 5:30pm almost daily. OMGAAAAH.Here I was, thinking I could

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-3104295369186579662010-07-16T12:18:00.002+08:002010-07-16T12:19:58.898+08:00

I just find it really weird that I dreamt that.I mean, we've had such a good week, haven't we? And I've been getting used to the familiar drum of contentment.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-10921800149320430762010-07-16T11:53:00.004+08:002010-07-16T12:15:14.828+08:00

Faced the weirdest, most ridiculous situation ever last night, while sleeping.I was walking down Orchard Road with K, hand in hand. So I was saying something and when I turned to face him, I saw that he was holding hands with his ex gf (I couldn't really see her face but I knew it was her), on the other side.So I turned to her and said "hello" cheerily like it was the most natural thing in the

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-37050472418973651832010-07-14T10:40:00.004+08:002010-07-15T10:05:44.017+08:00

You know how sometimes we can get so caught up with protecting ourselves... that we would do whatever it takes to make sure that we don't get hurt?We don't realise that we might end up hurting the other person in the process.And quite blatantly, I'd rather be the one getting hurt than the one hurting. Because I think I've inflicted enough pain on others (especially my parents) to do it on anybody

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-40448666819550405572010-07-12T11:53:00.003+08:002010-07-12T12:03:23.951+08:00

I think first I have to try being in love. And then love.I think I have to stop thinking so much and start feeling. I think I have to stop thinking, and then deciding what I should feel - like trying to be in love; heck I should just BE IN LOVE... if that's what I feel like doing. But the problem is, I don't know what I feel like doing because I haven't thought about it.I should be more

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-49994753240733055832010-07-09T14:11:00.005+08:002010-07-09T14:59:52.171+08:00

Ok so I am stuck here, trying to edit something that I cannot comprehend.Maybe I'll just scrap the whole thing and write a better one. That'll be easier. And inaccurate.So anyway. I'm happy again!I'm no longer upset by the many little things. I don't even care if my tv won't let me watch my shows. I'm probably gonna catch Eclispe with my sisters later tonight. God forbid. I hate Stephanie Meyer

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-22342137603696771862010-07-07T22:20:00.000+08:002010-07-07T22:19:52.218+08:00

I'm so frustrated I feel like crying. I can't turn on the tv. I don't know how to use the buttons on my remote control. Stupid new tv. And stupid world cup season.I haven't touched the tv in like... A month since the bloody season started. This is just mad. I'm mad. I need to watch some normal tv. I need tv so bad right now. Gosh I can't believe I'm crying cuz I dunno how to make the tv show

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-58157537757901556022010-07-06T15:01:00.002+08:002010-07-06T15:13:00.525+08:00

I want to spend an entire weekday in bed. Curled up. And smelling of you.I wont speak a single word. And my eyes would be blissfully shut.We can turn pages all day long. Show me her photos. I'll listen to you speak endlessly about her and I won't mind. I love it when you speak of her. Your face softens and your tone, always a little tender.When it's my turn to speak, I hope you'll listen too.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-24950692413501841882010-06-28T23:43:00.004+08:002010-06-29T15:46:30.069+08:00

You may not be nitrogen in the pie chart of my life but you're getting pretty close to oxygen... Though sometimes I feel that we need to hold back and be just little carbon dioxide atoms floating in the air. But this is not math, I CANNOT QUANTIFY. Even if I feel like calculating how much you've become a part of my everyday I can't. You're not an expenditure. Neither should this be thought of as

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-71998636504634133922010-06-26T17:01:00.004+08:002010-06-26T17:48:50.816+08:00

"You challenge me and provoke me. You always keep me moving and you told me of things I never imgained. When I listen to you, I discover how bizzare you are - from the way you think to the way you seem to let go of thinking in all entiety. You dropped a glass without a second thought just because you got bored of holding on to it and you couldn't find a table to set it on! How beautifully

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-26705520079846084872010-06-20T00:42:00.001+08:002010-06-20T22:43:40.968+08:00

He makes me happy and makes me try things I never thought I would. He makes me look forward to tomorrows and makes me wonder at the same time if he'd even be here to stay. He frustrates the shit out of me but I think I don't mind getting frustrated. He let's me slap him when he calls me horrible names. He introduced me to his world and I don't think I've met a bunch of people warmer than his

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-49045571218798953512010-06-19T00:14:00.000+08:002010-06-19T00:13:45.247+08:00

Have you ever wondered, how people who feel too much and think too much, to the point of obsession ever survive?They scream during scary movies and they heartily laugh at scenes that aren't quite that funny. They cry when her husband dies at sea and they go through heartbreak as often as I fart. They love too hard and hate too passionately. They believe in forgiving because they can't

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-22031534968194590432010-06-15T09:49:00.000+08:002010-06-15T09:48:26.933+08:00

You know. When 2010 started, I was secretly convinced that it's gonna be a good year.I haven't been disappointed just yet. It's been great. And I have yet to shed a tear. Nor have I shed any weight. But oh well.Shit gets easier with practice. But if you're putting yourself through the same shit... Then guess you are the shit.Sent from my iPod, Lola Smokah

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-79043063901899196812010-06-14T16:49:00.005+08:002010-06-15T13:05:46.135+08:00

It kills me that I've been naive and ignorant enough to believe that I deserve something good. Fact is, I don't. And that's that.Why would anyone want to stick around for me? Be with me? Haven't I always been on my own? And it's not like my problems are irresolvable. They're just a consequence of my own choices.I swear, it's not easy, believing that anything good can come out of anybody. It's

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-16592971541564185202010-06-06T11:12:00.003+08:002010-06-06T20:52:16.657+08:00

Yesterday, Saturday was probably the most random day ever. I'm still not quite sure what went down.I remembered... waking up, getting dressed in the least work-looking attire ever! I pulled on the flowery top, which makes me look damn jelly-like and my current fav pair of jeans. I even wore slippers to work (after which I realised is the most ridiculous decision made)! Here's what happened, in

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-48112929432384298422010-06-04T13:13:00.002+08:002010-06-04T13:24:25.728+08:00

LOOK AT WHAT MY BESTFRIEND WROTE ABOUT YOU!Sometime before that joyful little family-bonding outing was a spontaneous last minute meet-up with the gorgeous girls! So glad they could squeeze some time out of their hectic schedules for a meal (or two, haha) and loads of catching-up! Not only I learnt a thing or two about training to be an air-stewardess from Shafika, but also I realised the

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-11875120160001799932010-05-23T09:54:00.001+08:002010-05-23T09:54:07.505+08:00

I'm dead scared.For the first time, I'm more afraid of the "what ifs" rather than what i'll be missing out on.Like I said, we're just two lost, commitment phobic souls who'd like to believe that we're in a commitmentless arrangement... With many strings attached.I'm not sure if this system works.Let's draw up a contract, shall we? Haha with clauses and everything. At least we have something

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-83114486773675866852010-05-20T21:15:00.008+08:002010-05-21T15:01:58.461+08:00

Farah has this ability to make me feel like everything's alright. I find myself most at ease when I'm with her. I can be the ugliest, the fattest, the smelliest person when I'm with her. And truly I wouldn't care if her "shamalas" (hahah omg you rmb those times??) are uncontrollable or whatever else. I'LL STILL BE YOUR FRIEND LA OKAY.Today made me realise how much I've missed her. And also how

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-47328159110847701272010-05-20T11:31:00.003+08:002010-05-20T11:55:49.589+08:00

Lately, I've been getting curious queries.The next time somebody asks if I'm together with him...I'll reply, "I'm happy." And that's that.Like what does it even mean, all these terms? You all know very well that I have trouble describing anything at all in just one word. It's far too succinct and concise... and it doesn't leave much room for interpretation. You know I like it when people deduce

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-16718808681634386522010-05-12T12:08:00.005+08:002010-05-12T20:20:04.534+08:00

You know how I never believe that anything is actually as good as it looks. And that everything good that happens is just gonna come back and fuck me right in the ass as soon as I face the other way. I'm tired of paying the price that happiness comes tagged with. I can't afford it anymore :( You know that I'm still seeing other people. Yet you put up with it, when my dear friend sent a warning

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-60023755692256085112010-05-02T00:00:00.001+08:002010-05-02T00:00:16.375+08:00

It's nice to have your friends tell you how much they love you. Its been happening every night this week.It's so out of the blue. And I think something like that calls for a celebration :)Love needn't be romantic at all. Haha I obviously have a very affectionate set of friends. Very loved indeed.Loving you guys back from my white couch in the study room at Bt Batok!Sent from my iPod, Lola

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-78771472259029390662010-04-30T19:55:00.002+08:002010-05-02T11:44:11.892+08:00

Who am i kidding? It won't happen.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-20694728514608652642010-04-29T01:29:00.006+08:002010-05-02T11:43:40.681+08:00

Today isn't what I'd call spectacular.But I'd like to remember it and so, here I am, blogging. Was initially supposed to hit Sentosa with the class but we got tied down with some work-related stuff. I know I'm never one to care about things that I'm not paid to do. My nights have been built around deadlines, and my days dedicated to worrying and making sure that I'm not missing out on anything.

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-89300657997894163712010-04-28T07:49:00.003+08:002010-04-28T07:56:30.105+08:00

It's not that I am not bothered. I chose not to be bothered. It shifts the balance of control in my direction. If I can control what I feel, I can control everything else.Besides, it's much easier to let it not bother me because to show how much potential it has to break me is detrimental to my very existance. It's not a mind game. It's a personal challenge.What is it I'm after, really? Control?

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-80954708132494960712010-04-23T00:06:00.004+08:002010-04-23T00:19:41.985+08:00

If I get a shot at immortality... (thanks to Horcruxes, what else??) I'd leave a piece of my soul with these people:1) Yanni (so she'll never be alone on our pimped out shelf and because I want to live out eternity with her, preferably not partyin' up in hell)2) Farah (so she can help purify my tortured soul. She's the kindest, most forgiving person ever)3) Najmah (because Najihah will misplace

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-77748507904778393032010-04-17T21:58:00.002+08:002010-04-17T22:03:25.780+08:00

“Life is not a fucking zero sum game.”“That’s the best pick up line I’ve ever heard. I’m Guy New York. What’s your name?”“It wasn’t a fucking pick-up line. It wasn’t not a pick-up line either. It was just conversation. See what I mean? Not a zero sum game. I’m Tea.”“Like the letter?”“Like the drink.”It was a bit early to be sitting at a bar, but it was quiet and pleasant with all the

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5447969810525857583.post-20967606425886371472010-04-17T20:17:00.007+08:002010-04-17T21:09:18.889+08:00

I've been recording stuff in May's columns. Not good. I've mentally skipped the month of April and jumped right into May.Haven't been updating as regularly either. Half of April's gone and I've only posted two entries. This is very rare. I used to blog almost daily. Ha. Must be the age.Been keeping myself busy with a whole range of new projects, on top of school work and my freelancing. Get this:

broccoleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04834547507784200153noreply@blogger.com0