attention, attention!

Reflecting on my erratic behaviour, I realised how immature I was, often fighting pointless battles within the relationship and ultimately defeating myself. I would obsess over contacting certain people, feeling panicked and paranoid when unable to reach them. The dreaded message "The Vodafone you have called is switched off, please try again later" struck fear into me, as if someone had turned off my life support. I'd obsessively redial, ignoring the operator's advice to wait.

It's not healthy to fixate on constant communication or demand to be heard and understood all the time. My redial key was worn out from overuse, a symbol of my stubbornness and impatience. I'd escalate situations, flooding others with texts after minor disagreements, expecting apologies that rarely came. Normal people, I realised, possess self-control and patience - qualities I often lacked. Once, in a fit of frustration, I sent a long, abusive email to my boyfriend, only to receive a disarmingly calm response: "I like your smile." It was a moment of clarity. My antics were immature, causing needless strife and self-inflicted defeats. In those battles, I wasn't just fighting with my boyfriend; I was fighting with myself, losing more than just arguments along the way.

phat

Who says you need to be busty to look hot? Look at her flat stomach! I love this shot; it makes me want to strip off my clothes and run across the grass in my front yard, with the sprinklers spraying water on me.

I tried to strike this pose on my webcam to show my best friend, but she burst out laughing. I had shown her the photo I was trying to imitate before attempting it on the webcam. She did have some good suggestions, though. "Haha, your boobs need to be smaller!" Well, isn't that just fantastic? Let me just deflate my breasts, and then I'll be on my merry way to Sexytown.

I think I need to hit the gym for a whole decade before I can have a body like that. It's too bad I'm allergic to exercising. I've only been dragged to the gym twice in my entire life, and both times I had trouble breathing after two minutes on the treadmill. My face turned into a tomato, and I saw stars every time I blinked. Maybe I didn't warm up properly. Ah, it just wasn't meant to be. My sister used to do aerobics at home; I supported her by sitting on our couch, encouraging her to keep going, while happily munching on a bar of chocolate and teasingly waving it at her every now and then.

drift

I've got it all but I feel so deprived
I go up, I come down and I'm emptier inside
Tell me what is this thing that I feel like I'm missing
And why can't I let it go?
I go up, I come down and I'm emptier inside
Tell me what is this thing that I feel like I'm missing
And why can't I let it go?

:: Stacie Orrico - (There's Gotta Be) More To Life

                                  ~*~ 

This is about as honest as I could be with myself.
How often do you find yourself reaching for thin air?

I want someone to talk to during my drives, anywhere. Mostly though, from 5:30 pm to 11:59 pm on weeknights. Someone who has nothing better to do but email me when I'm at work or text me for no reason, just to say nothing. Just so I know, someone out there wants to be informed about the events in my life. Just so I can have that last phone call of the day. There are days when I just miss hearing, "Goodnight, baby." But there is not a single day when I don't wonder, what if... Although the thought only lasts a nanosecond, it still crosses my mind, nonetheless. One day I'll forget to wonder... That will be the day I clear my mind of any lingering thoughts.

(not so) sweet november

Do you remember the first time when you liked someone and they liked you back? It's been a while, but I reminisce about those innocent days filled with optimism and hope. Uncorrupted by a messy history, uncluttered by heart-rending experiences, you were ready to trust, to fall in love, and to live happily ever after.

It's been so long since I acted silly, and I want to feel like a carefree kid again. I miss being a teenager, being able to act stupidly cute because a crush noticed my attempts to grab his attention. I miss catching the late bus just to glimpse his wonderful smile, flirting like an amateur, and holding his hand as if it were made for mine. Puppy love is such a warm and fuzzy feeling.

Have you ever caught yourself comparing a new relationship to a previous one? There was a phase when I thought I'd never like another guy because I was so head-over-heels in love with my ex-boyfriend. Maybe it was because it was my first love, leading me to assume we can only have one great love in our life?

I think it's time to bid farewell to those old feelings. I don't want to overlook any new potential feelings. I love the rush of liking someone new—the butterflies, the inability to eat or sleep because you're so smitten (yeah, I can be obsessive, I mean passionate like that). It's sad to leave my comfort zone and seek happiness elsewhere, but my comfort zone now feels cold and deserted, and you know how I hate being home alone...

It's already November. The year is almost over, and it's been raining for the last few days. I hope it continues until next year—a fitting way to bid farewell to 2004.

misunderstood

I'm not lazy; I'm efficient. I delegate and assign tasks to people because I know they will do a better job than I would. See, I know how to utilise my resources.

I'm not obsessive; I'm passionate.

I take shortcuts, as long as the result is the same in the end. This again does not mean that I'm lazy; it means that I'm efficient.

I'm not vain; I take pride in my appearance.

I'm not immature; I'm playful!

manicure

The very idea of me getting a manicure is enough to shock my friends. When I asked if they'd lose respect for me if I got one, their first response was hysterical laughter. The thought of me sitting in a beauty salon getting my nails done is pretty bizarre, considering I’ve never even had my nails painted before.

But today, I laughed my way to the beauty salon. Yes, you heard it right, I got a manicure. Now, typing is a hassle because I’m paranoid my nail polish will chip. I’m turning into such a girlie girl *runs away screaming*. All those years of laughing at my sister for fussing over her nails have come back to bite me. Maybe I should stop making fun of girls like her because I’m becoming one of them. I've been craving change and, since I can't change my personality, I’m changing my attitude.

I’m not exactly known for being gentle; I like to play rough, so adopting these new delicate hand motions is challenging. I feel like a delicate flower. I can’t punch the wall (not that I’ve punched a wall before, but I’d like to have the option) or scratch my itches (which is a good thing because I always make them worse). What if I want to peel an orange and eat it with my fingers? Now I have to cut everything into smaller pieces and use a fork. Having French tips is such high maintenance!

The beautician told me I had nice hands because of my long fingers and that my nails were nicely shaped. Is that part of the ritual? Complimenting the client before you sandblast their nails? If my nails were so nicely shaped, why did she have to file them? I guess it was to get the squared shape; apparently, they’re better than round ones. The filer scared the crap out of me. I jumped when she held it up to my hand.

"Dude, what’s that thing?!"

"Teehehe, relax! It’s a filer for your fingernails."

"That thing looks dangerous, stay away from me!!"

Then I ran out of the beauty salon, screaming like an escaped mental patient. Just kidding.

I've watched my sister do her own manicure plenty of times, and whenever she filed her nails, it freaked me out because it looked so painful. The noise it made was horrifying. My sister is overseas for three months, so she couldn’t give me a manicure. She used to beg me to let her practice on me, and I’d roll my eyes and wonder why she was so obsessed with French tips. Now, I understand.

The beautician filed my nails, clipped my cuticles (which also freaked me out because it looked like she was cutting funny shapes out of a paper pattern), gave me French tips, and finished off with two clear coats of nail polish. It felt nice to be pampered, and I was happy with the results. I don’t think I’ll ever get acrylics; they look too thick and fake (because they are fake).

band aid

At the moment, I think that lust is, in some ways, less exasperating and more satisfying than love. Familiar, mesmerising, and fleeting, it can be set off anytime, anywhere. Most people crave the one they believe to be perfect for them because they're in love with the notion of being in love. In actuality, their naivety and lack of experience make it harder for them to cope with how unpredictable people are and how this unpredictability can taint and destroy relationships.

It has been nine months since we parted. Some say that after the breakup, I've become pessimistic. I can say that I'm not bitter; I'm better. Like a cut, life following a breakup begins to recover after the primary anguish, resulting rage, and final acceptance that it wasn't meant to be. Everything seems to be moving forward on the surface, but beneath it all, memories from the past return, eager to shape themselves into the current puzzle. When history catches up with the present, you can't help but question where we went wrong. Like a scab that could've, should've, would've, but didn't heal because you picked at it, so was the relationship that could've, should've, would've, but didn't survive because you did something deliberately off-beam.

Why is growing up a compulsory thing? I want to stick a band-aid over my problems, but it's more difficult at twenty-two than it was at twelve. I can't ask for a pardon, plead for a second chance, or build a time machine to go back and fix everything. In real life, you can't force someone to love you; you can only try to charm them and hope that they will cave.

the beach ball

Summer is just around the corner, and those sizzling days remind me of that BBQ at Chipping Norton Lake with Van, B. Linh, Kim, and the unforgettable front-yard-water-tap debacle. That day was absurdly hot, far too intense for grilling. We had bought a beach ball from Woolies, only to lose it in the lake.  

Relationships and friendships are a two-way street. Sure, two people may never love each other equally, but they can strive to put in the same effort, though the results often vary. I’ve never been much of a fighter; things usually fall into my lap. I’ve been pretty fortunate, always seeming to get what I want in the end. But my luck has changed since then. Losing what you had is far worse than wanting what you can't have. Just like that beach ball we lost on that scorching summer day. 

The girls and I bought the beach ball to play with, tossed it into the water, and then relied on each other to fetch it. But it was too hot. We preferred the shade to wading into the lake. We yelled at each other to get the ball, expecting someone else to rescue it. Amidst our bickering, the ball floated away. By the time we noticed, it was too far to retrieve. We chased it along the shore, helplessly watching it drift beyond reach, too deep for us to catch. So, we watched our beach ball wash away. I still think about that beach ball, and I’m sure the others do too, because it was part of our memorable day. 

Sometimes, my friendship with him feels like that lost ball. I feel like I’m the one trying to keep it alive, often finding we have nothing to say to each other, while at other times I have so much to share. I’m trying too hard to make it work, not wanting our friendship to drift away like that ball. I occasionally manage to pull it back, only to see it wander again. Maybe I should just let it wash away, as it seems inevitable. So, I’ll let us float away, and see if anyone else will rescue this beach ball. It’s easy to say you want something or tell someone they’re special, but sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

lines that I don't like to hear (in no particular order)

"Aww, but Julienne, I just like you as a friend." Denial.

"You're so pretty, Jules, but your sister is prettier." I guess it's okay to come second to your big sister.

"I can't think of anyone that I'd rather be with than you, but I don't want a girlfriend at the moment." Stupid boy.

"My friend thinks that you look like a HK star, but you're too short." Bittersweet? I'm not even Chinese.

"You look better without makeup. It's not because I don't like girls with makeup, but because you can't put it on properly." I'm going to wear as much eyeliner as I want, dammit!

Sometimes people make comments about me that I don't know how to interpret, and whether I should take them as compliments or insults... 🤨🤔😳

break ups and make ups

It's natural to have problems in a relationship. Everyone agrees that the best time is the beginning, the Honeymoon period - when everything is still a mystery, exciting, and problem-free. But after a while, being around one person long enough means they will inevitably annoy you at some stage.

When you think about it, the problems are caused by the people involved. They don't just appear out of nowhere. Often, those so-called problems are just trivial issues we create to add drama to our lives. A small problem, if encouraged, will grow into a bigger one. Sometimes people should just shut up. Talking too much can create new issues. When I was in a relationship, I wish I had said, "Can we just drop it, please?" Letting go of petty problems would prevent them from multiplying into long-term issues. It would be so simple if we could just close that bad chapter and start fresh.

That's why I love reading novels or watching movies - they let me escape into a different world. If things get too much, I can close the book or turn off the movie and return to my own life. I'm not into suspense or overly dramatic movies. They make me feel an unrealistic burden, and sometimes I just fast-forward to the calm parts. Why let it stir me up? I prefer comedies or chick flicks because I want to be entertained and laugh. Sorry if that doesn't make me "deep."

Life isn't a book or a movie. You can't slam it shut or fast-forward through the rough parts. Time waits for no one. We live every day without realizing that life is the longest thing we'll ever know. I have many regrets because I've made a lot of mistakes that I can never go back and fix. This doesn't stop me from making new mistakes, though. Maybe I'm trying to test my limits. Even though I'm not in a relationship anymore, I still have issues with him. After every unnecessary battle we have, I'm left to pick up the pieces. Each fight stains our relationship more, and it's harder to wash away the dirty marks.

When I try to clean things up, I often make them worse, and everything becomes more blurred over time. It used to be easy to kiss and make up, but when you're not a couple, there's no obligation to compromise. It's easier to let go when you're uncommitted.

After surviving yet another world war, I've promised to be civilized. People should learn to control themselves during conflicts with their significant others. Things may seem bleak now, but we can't predict the future. We may get back together someday, or we may not. Either way, it's healthier to let go of a faltering relationship while there's still some caring left. If I play it out to the bitter end and sabotage our friendship anymore, he may end up hating me and shutting the door on any future relationship. Bowing out graciously leaves room for a future connection, even if it's just as good friends.

nine west

Last night, my sister and I attended the Nine West (shoes) boutique event in Double Bay to celebrate the launch of their new spring line. Sparkling champagne, fresh strawberries, finger foods, and live saxophone music created an atmosphere of class and elegance. Upon arrival, we were each given a raffle ticket for a surprise drawing. At the end of the launch, they announced a winner for a Nine West handbag, which looked less impressive than its valued price.

The room was filled with about twenty shoe-obsessed ladies who seemed to be in heaven. My sister's eyes lit up at the sight of the rows of shoes surrounding us; I've never seen her happier. She bought a pair of slip-on stilettos, lured by the special 20% discount. Fickle! My only opinion about the stilettos was, "Those heels aren't that high, are they going to make me look taller?"

The new season's spring selection featured bright, vibrant colors and patterns. Everyone was in awe of the new line of shoes that Nine West carried, except for me. I was more preoccupied with eating the complimentary strawberries. While the other sophisticated women made small talk and sipped their champagne, I was slurping my iced water and nagging my sister, "Can we go now?"

There was only one guy present at the launch, and he seemed more excited about the shoes than I was. He seemed mildly gay or just overly gentle and feminine. My favorite part of the launch was when they gave us gift bags on our way out. The bag was full of goodies! Girls and their obsessions with shoes - I will never understand it.

tell sox that i love him

This morning, like every other morning, I debated whether to wake up for either work or uni. Waking up is the hardest part of my day; I'm still sleepy after I get dressed, and it's only when I'm on my way to the train station that I fully wake up. My mum drives me to the station every morning, and let's just say she is not the best driver in the world.

When you're sitting in the car with my mother, you have to be focused because it's vital to scream out, "Mum, watch out! There's a car next to us!" when she blindly changes lanes. It's also important to be aware of your surroundings, especially when you turn to look outside and find your car almost being squashed by a big truck. Don't be alarmed if you notice that your car is driving too close to the edge of the road - 1cm from the curb and about to hit that cute innocent little boy on his bicycle. Resist the urge to strangle yourself with the seatbelt (even if it seems like a more appealing fate) because, somehow, the mother figure has everything under control. 😬

Being stuck in this death seat every morning has taught me to be wide awake as my life hangs in the balance. My mum has her Gold license, mind you, but like most older Asian women, she can't drive for peanuts. I dare not speak to her while she's driving, as it would distract her from the road and kill us both. I listen to her talk, though; she sees this as an opportunity to bond. Maybe it's because it feels like we're both in our deathbeds, so it's a good time to discuss life (and sometimes love). I always just nod and say, "Uh-huh," because unlike my sister, I don't talk to my mum about my "problems."

My mum always says to me, "Don't be angry at people; you're the only one who will suffer because they don't know or care that you're angry at them. They will go on living their life happily while you struggle emotionally." Mother is not wrong there. So yes, let's not be angry and let's just all be friends. Group hug, everyone!

alone together

There is a big difference between being alone and being lonely. I can be in a crowd, surrounded by friends, yet still feel like I am the only person in the room. Unlike me, he enjoys solitude. I guess everyone should be comfortable with solitude before taking on any type of relationship. When you're alone, you're most comfortable. When you're alone, you can finally think clearly. When you're alone, you're wholly understood. When you're alone, you learn about yourself. So, I guess he and I should be alone together.

no milkman's daughter

I spend two hours of my day on the train whenever I work. I always look out the window and daydream on the way to work, and I fall asleep on the way back. I daydream about everything. I wonder and question the unquestionable. Like how it's not fair that my brother and sister are both tall and slim, while I'm kind of petite and "meaty." (I know I'm not fat, but I'm meaty!) WHY? As a little girl, I always thought I was different because my brother and sister looked identical. People used to think they were twins. They both had my dad's features, and I... I was the milkman's daughter with different features.

Fortunately, as I got older, my sister and I started to look alike. I was becoming a smaller version of her. Some people still think that my sister and I look the same, while others believe that we're not at all related. I was also told that I've inherited my great-grandmother's attributes, so I'm very much my father's daughter. No milkman's daughter here, no siree! And that blew the stereotype out the window.

the days of my life

Yesterday, I played handball with the girls in primary school, cried over grazed knees and ripped socks, gambled with my cousins during Chinese New Year at my aunt's house, watched TV with my parents, and excitedly told them about my day. I couldn't wait to go to school just to see my friends. Maths class was my sanctuary, not just because the teacher was brilliant, but because it was a place where everything made sense and I felt truly alive. I caught the school bus just to catch a glimpse of that cute guy. I went to bed smiling.

Today, I drag myself out of bed just to get to work. I catch the train alone and hug myself to keep warm. I'm sick and tired of the rat race, wondering if this is what the rest of my life will be like. I can't be bothered talking to my parents because "they just don't seem to understand." I haven't seen my best friends in weeks, cancelling on them because I had to work last Friday. Uni feels pointless because the endless assignments and exams seem disconnected from real-world applications. I lock myself up in my room, worry about what to wear, and never visit my relatives anymore. I get upset over the ex-boyfriend and am constantly lacking sleep.

Tomorrow is just another day.

zero tolerance for numbers

I've been stressing at work over stupid accounting crap (I HATE dealing with numbers) and I swear never to work in a job with numbers again. This brings me to my next problem. My job used to revolve around marketing, but since my manager is an accountant (for the marketing team), I do a bit of accounting here and there. From having little involvement, it has now progressed to a significant portion of my duties, and I'm afraid that my job will become half accounting. The role I interviewed for was part-time Marketing Administrator!

I'm starting to wish I had paid more attention when I took that Accounting subject last year. I wish I hadn't copied Caz's homework or fluked my way through exams. How could I have known that I'd need accounting in life? Maybe it's my fault; I keep saying how easy my job is, so now they're giving me more to do. My boss says that he'll go over more accounting tasks with me next month so I can check our journal ledgers and blah blah blah. Kill me, kill me now. I don't mind numbers, little numbers are fine. But, when you ask me to figure out expenses that exceed six digits, then yes, I do have a problem with it. I don't want to be responsible for monitoring so much money (that's not even mine!).

My boss and I spent a few hours trying to find the missing figures and allocate them to the right places. I was hoping for some drama at work, like an employee trying to steal the company's money by manipulating the system, but it turned out to be just someone coding the amounts to the wrong accounts. I kept thinking it was my fault whenever there was an amount out of place, like as if I had somehow morphed into a genius and transferred the money into my own bank account. I felt so relieved when everything was in order. When I saw 0, it meant that everything was balanced and for once in my life, 0 was an indication of success.

time is money

I'm 21 years and 14 ½ months old, and I haven't achieved anything. I feel disheartened. People my age are working full-time and some even have their own property. I don't even have a savings account! I keep cruising along, half awake at uni, completely asleep at work. I'm not really striving to do my best at anything, and before I know it, I'm running out of time. I AM RUNNING OUT OF TIME, PEOPLE!

:: The Plan ::

* Finish my degree in a year's time and graduate from university 

* Apply for a full time position for a higher role at the same company

* Invest, buy my first property

* Find a sucker to marry me

* Live happily ever after

:: The Reality ::

* Drop out of university and bum off parents

poker

Hanging out with your ex-boyfriend is a bad idea. Every aspect of your relationship is different now. From the way he looks at you to the way he treats you. He doesn't look at you in that adoring way anymore, or he doesn't even look at you at all for that matter. Have you ever been to a party and wondered, "Would anyone really miss me if I wasn't here?" So, why bother hanging out with someone who doesn't adore you anymore when you can hang out with someone who does? It's better to be around someone who thinks that you're amazing rather than someone who used to think that. It's better to be good company than being white noise.

Believe it or not, but sometimes I like to be alone too. I like lying in bed and just having my pug, Socks, sleep in my arms, with his chubby body close to me and just watching him sleep. Is that how a mother feels? I remember how I loved sleeping with my mum when I was little. I was so happy when my dad went fishing for the whole weekend. When I was five years old, we lived in Malaysia where it was hot, and my mum fanned me until I fell asleep. One time, she fanned me and thought that I was asleep, so she stopped. I guess her arm was aching from repeating that gesture for over an hour. I poked her to continue, and she did, but for some reason, I couldn't fall asleep. So I kept on poking her every time she stopped fanning. After a few pokes, she got fed up with me, smacked me gently on the head with the fan, and apparently, that put me to sleep.

the pink coat

My sister and I embarked on a mission to acquire the illustrious Pink Coat from Portmans. She fell head over heels for it after spotting it in a magazine. When she finally saw it in person, she dragged me along to witness the glory. I paid the coat a visit with LN on Monday, and let's just say my first impression was less "wow" and more "meh." The fabric felt off, and the style was a bit, well, odd.

I relayed my lukewarm feelings to my sister, thinking that would be the end of our Pink Coat adventure. But no, she persuaded me to give it another chance at Westfields in Liverpool. So, I agreed, because every coat deserves a fair trial, right? Even so, I still found it underwhelming and decided to get a second opinion from Mum. Mum, being the pragmatic woman she is, suggested we could find something similar at the markets for a fraction of the price and thought we were bonkers for wanting such an expensive piece of clothing.

My sister, ever the fashion lawyer, argued that the coat only looked weird on the hanger and would transform into a masterpiece when worn. To prove her point, she modeled it, and lo and behold, it looked stunning on her. Panic set in - what if it looks good on her but makes me look like a pink marshmallow? Alas, my sister's enthusiasm was infectious, and I got swept up in the coat craze.

Update

Post-work, my sister and I ventured to the Parramatta branch, praying they had the elusive Pink Coat in size 6. No luck. Frustration was building as we were tired of the relentless coat chase. We wandered into Sheike, and there, like a beacon of hope, was another Pink Coat. This one was cashmere and a much lovelier shade of baby pink than the Portmans version.

So, naturally, I bought it. Just like that.

And now I'm fabulously broke!

remember when...

Remember a time when fights were easy to resolve? Like the Chinese New Year of 1990 when your sister teased you endlessly about losing all your money in the Fish Prawn Crab Dice Game, making you cry in front of all the relatives? You were furious, ready to disown her, but by day's end, all was forgiven. Well, maybe not forgotten.

Or when you were in 3rd grade and your best friend was absent, and the girl with the elastic rope excluded you. Your other friends chose the rope over you, leaving you to wander the playground, wishing for your best friend's return or your own elastic rope to fit in. The next day, your best friend was back, and suddenly, none of it mattered as handball became the new trend.

Remember 8th grade, when you had a fallout with a friend and vowed never to speak again? Yet a year later, you slowly made up, and it felt like she had never left your side.

Or when you broke up with your first boyfriend and he dated someone else the very next day. You told him, "Go out with that skinny goat, I don't care!" But when he did, it hurt deeply. You ignored him for years, and now, you just smile when you see him, completely over it.

And that time when someone you were infatuated with decided he didn't want you in his life anymore. You obsessed over him for two years, only to become friends again and he has become a good friend who will likely be in your life for a long time.

How about when you thought your boyfriend's ex could be a friend, only to find out she had you on her ICQ invisible list? You confronted her childishly, but unpredictably, she became one of your dearest friends, and now you go to her to complain about your present love life.

Remember your massive crush on that new friend? You were sure he was equally smitten. But after a blow-up post-year 12 Formal, you thought the friendship was done for, but he eventually came around and started chatting again. Now, he doesn’t even recall why he was mad, and when you ask why he tolerates your nonsense, he just shrugs and says, "I don't know." It’s the perfect answer because he doesn’t need a reason to care for you.

Those moments felt like the end of the world, but now they're the threads that weave the fabric of your life.

And then there's the time you lost your first love. Months apart, you feel like you haven't recovered, even regressing to square zero, wishing to go back to when you were together. You're scared of being stuck in this limbo, trying to fix things but making them worse, trying to hold him close but pushing him further away. Moving on feels impossible because every new guy has something wrong: too desperate, too short, too old, too young, too dull, too nice.

So here you are, sitting at work, wondering when you'll finally say, "Remember when everything went wrong with that boy, but now I know I'm still special to him."

that's amore

"While driving home, she dozed off, looking so peaceful and innocent. I couldn't help but glance at her whenever I stopped at a traffic light. Getting home quickly was the last thing on my mind; I wanted to savour this slow, gentle ride. At every light, I'd watch her sleep, her hand in mine. Driving one-handed and shifting gears with the same hand was a challenge, but it was worth every moment."

just another face in the crowd

Friendship is like the siblings that God forgot to give us. VP and I were just talking about her birthday plans and realised how our group of friends has evolved over the past three years. It's sad to see people drift apart, but even more depressing is how little we might care when it happens. It's like breaking up with someone and promising to stay friends, only to find the transition from being a couple to just friends is too difficult.

During the struggle to move on from being in love, we try to accept the other person as just a friend. One reason this is hard is because we still want them as more than a friend. Once that desire fades, we lose interest in them, and the idea of being friends no longer matters. When we want someone, they seem like the most amazing person in the world. But when those warm and fuzzy feelings fade, we're pulled back to reality and see them as just another face in the crowd. The harsh truth is that they probably feel the same way about us. No one can stay special forever. We replace each other over time, perhaps not intentionally, but due to circumstances. People who talk about "the one that got away" are often those who haven't found a replacement for that person. When you think about it, that phrase starts to lose its meaning.

fine

Today, I did something I had never done before in my entire life.

I paid a library fine.

Yes, a whole $6 for a book that was two months overdue. When I was younger, I was quite the library rebel. I'd rack up a fine, then slyly make a new library card to avoid paying. I had about five different cards at the Whitlam Library. It was like my own little game of literary hide-and-seek. But this time, I thought, hey, I'm a working adult now, making good money, so maybe it's time to embrace responsibility. Paying this fine felt like a rite of passage.

Okay, fine. The real reason is that I was with my niece Shirley and tried to convince her to make a library card (so I could use it) at the Liverpool City Library. But she didn't have any identification on her, so they didn't authorize her membership. Dammit.

The library is enormous; it looks like a shopping mall with its glass walls. I used to meet up with my first boyfriend there when we were in high school. Ah, memories! Haha.

Yesterday, I got a haircut. I wanted a sweepy fringe, but let's just say it didn't quite sweep me off my feet. I got layers on the sides and trimmed five centimeters off the back to keep my long length.

* photo has been removed for no particular reason *

Hey, it's 04/04/04 today!

facade

I've been catching up with my primary school best friend. She just graduated with a degree in Economics and is now working. We're currently emailing each other at work, and I’m slowly corrupting her, showing her the ropes. I’m turning her to the dark side, teaching her the fine art of abusing email privileges in the workplace. She thinks I'm a bludger, but who doesn't? However, I think we should define the term "bludger" before we go pointing any fingers.

Main Entry: bludge
Definition: To shirk or avoid work; also bludge on
Etymology: Back formation of bludger 'someone who imposes'
Usage: Australian slang; bludged, bludging

After a minute of research, I’d like to defend myself here. By this definition, I’m not a bludger. I always get everything done at work. I’m an expert at what I do, so I have plenty of free time to do whatever I wish. I have the right to do that. I’m extremely bored at work because there is no challenge, so I resort to emailing friends, blog surfing, checking eBay, and watching my nails grow. As long as I get my work done, where’s the harm? I haven't had any complaints from my superiors; they actually think I’m a hard worker. See, I have this split personality when it comes to work. I’m like a completely different person.

I’m beginning to wonder if it's healthy because it feels like I’m leading two lives, well, more like juggling multiple personalities. At work, I’m this passive, quiet girl who has no social life. Every time my colleagues ask me what I did on the weekend, I tell them I was studying. This way, I don't have to engage in conversations that would exceed more than two minutes. I’ve recently brought headphones to work for my mp3s, so any chances left of me socialising with other people are out the window. According to my workmates, I’m this genius who studies all day and night. I usually come to work late, so I feel morally obligated to stay back after work (just so I won’t look like a bludger, but really, all I ever do when I stay back is surf the internet), so everyone at work thinks I don't have a life. Which is exactly what I wanted them to think... but now I've changed my mind.

So there you have it, I need to get a new job, change companies because it’s too late to start over with these people. I can't just turn up tomorrow and be myself; I’ve already labeled myself as the quiet antisocial girl, so I’m stuck with it. I need a fresh start because I can’t go on pretending like this. I have nightmares about bumping into work people in the outside world; they will see a different girl from the one they know at work. And I will be exposed.

the beginning of the end

Feeling utterly crap. 🥺

I had a rough night and an even rougher morning. Running late to work, I had to take aptitude tests (which I probably failed due to lack of sleep and stress overload). I thought my day couldn't get any worse, but then the heel of my stiletto broke off as I was going up the escalators. Perfect.