I hate it when people use my name to email other people AND make grammar mistakes.

I hate it when skinny midgets say they are fat.

I hate it when people complain they are fat and refuse to get their ass of the fudging couch and do something about it.

I actually have this friend who is unhealthy as FUDGE and she doesn’t like to eat vegetables. And when she eats fruits she has to have the skin peeled off because she hates the taste of it.

GURRRLL I LOVE YOU GURL BUT YOU BETTER DO SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF.

In other news,

I bought some tops today at CHEAP AZZ PRICES

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I don’t know what this is supposed to be. Quite possibly my face of elation.

But here are some happy pictures to balance off the negativity 😀

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I am not doing this for anyone but myself.

And the only way I can be proud in this final year is to at least get my honours class up.

And the only way to do that is to achieve a 4.7 or A grade.

It will be hard but this is the only way. 

Philosophy on the MRT

I was talking to my friend about philosophy related issues today. On conditional versus unconditional love (he thinks conditional love is better), that there is no true form of altruism, because everyone is inherently selfish, and altruistic people are actually, not that altruistic. Some say they do it because they are happy to see other people happy. But is not wanting to see other people happy merely a reflection of your own desire to be happy? You gain happiness from other people’s happiness and therefore, you are doing it for yourself.

We also discussed the notion of death and how he feels that he is an egoistic hedonist. We discussed about how there need not be religion to be morality. How the only thing we can do now is to live our lives the best way we can since death is pretty much insignificant. What is there to fear?

I also learned some memory techniques.

When reading a passage

1. Read it quickly and skim through, highlighting  the main points only

2. Read the highlighted main points only and ignore the rest

3. Write notes at the side of the main points

– The important thing is not the notes that you make, but rather the process of writing them down.

He also taught me how to memorise

1. Do not write any notes in class. Instead, concentrate on what the teacher /lecturer/professor is wearing and how he/she talks. Remember that and think of your own example.

2. Remember your own example and discard the memory of what the professor is wearing and how he/she talks.

Also, nothing but an A is a huge fail.

Really interesting stuff. Now I just wish I was more articulate or intelligent to be able to learn more about this world.

sometimes

sometimes
i remember you and sometimes
it seems that you are here
but sometimes still
i can only remember a small part
of your face, slowly withering away
shrouded by time
and i do not know if you were real
or merely a figment
of my imagination
or my dreams.

amongst other things

It is with great will that I managed to switch off my computer despite all the youtube videos and chick flicks calling out to me. I am always tempted to watch films until the wee hours of the morning and regret it the next day. My mind is unable to look at longer term benefits as opposed to short term ones, but I try. I try really hard.

Free food seems to be my weakness though. I say free food because food with a price is easier to stay away from but free food just means that I can take whatever the hell I want without having to pay. Typical Singaporean. It is difficult really but you know, long term long term goals. I shall make this my mantra to train myself to reject all the short term distractions.

Dad keeps wanting to get me married off or something. Like he drops all these hints, asking me if my friends have boyfriends and such and saying they have a good life. I think none of this should be his beeswax though because you know the one thing that I really hate is people nosing in on my life and questioning every single thing I do. I guess if I had to describe my dad in a word it would be ‘overprotective’. Plus he’s pretty traditional. What a horrible combination.

We didn’t speak…

We didn’t speak; we didn’t keep in touch. For a long time, I remained convinced that this period of distance was a strange emotional coma from which you would suddenly awake. You would tell me that you were sorry to have been so weird, that you had always loved me, that I had always been right. I suppose I have watched enough movies in my life to believe that no story, if unsatisfying, is ever at its very end. The tiny flame of hope that this may all have been a petulant phase in your otherwise limitless capacity for love and understanding was perhaps more painful than the harsh finality of your disinterest. To keep grasping at ever-slimmer chances of a happy ending was frustrating, and then ridiculous, and then profoundly sad. I would have liked to just go straight to sad.

After our time flew past me, the passing of months and years became more soft, more understandable. Time once again resembled the lazy river that it had always been, not catching me in its refusal to slow down and let me breathe. The months turned into years, and every last bit of dust from our strange little hurricane had settled. My thoughts of us had become — have become — tiny vignettes that pass in front of my eyes only when faced with a direct reference to you. And they no longer carry a sting, or a turn of the stomach, or even a remote desire to reach out. Life is better (as I had always imagined it might be) when I am surrounded by people of whose love I am completely sure.

I will not forget you, though. I don’t think that you particularly deserve my memory, nor do I flatter myself into believing that you return my sense of vague wistfulness. There is no part of me that wants to return to the limbo I existed in for so long, or even the often-imagined parallel universe in which you reciprocated my feelings to the letter. I do, however, want to remember what it feels like to be hurt, to want, to need something so desperately only to find out that your life is perfectly fine without it. As much as the little scar on my knee will always remind me to watch out when I am running, yours on my heart will teach me to be kind. Because I know what it feels like to be cast aside with indifference, and I know that it’s a pain from which the body itself takes a long time to recover. You will live in my mind as a cautionary tale, a fable of how much damage words can do — especially when they are insincere. And though I am not nostalgic for what we did have, I am hopeful about life being filled with everything we didn’t.

I Will Not Forget You | Thought Catalog.