the rainbows that make me happy

im depressingly sick, fever flu and all and today is my first exam and have morphed into a crybabycry since mon (phonecalls, pls avoid me. humans, do likewise - else you shall be germed by my snifflysnuffles, nose-wise and tear-wise).

but.

as in all things, there is Always a B.U.T.
nothing is absolute, i dont like absolutes actually. im an anti-reductionist.

i am happy.
perhaps its the weather (sunday sunny weather makes me the happiest!perhaps, wed too) , perhaps its the lightheartedness that i feel (im not sure induced by what). but i am happy, happy and thankful about the slightest thing in my life. happy that i still have you and you and you and you and you and many other significant you's to share my existence with, happy that in the process of Living, i've learnt much about Life (at least up to this stage of my 21 years of life) - mistakes all-incorporated. happy that i've found some, lost some, kept some.

the fever, headaches, flu, exams and all wont keep me down.
You will sustain me, You will provide all that i need - my happiness, my peace, my desires and any seeming lack - either in time to come or as of now.

this is for my evil gecko, with much love, from the non-evil mu lao hu.

today, we spoke of Death. somehow, unlike our usual theoreticizing of everything under the sun, that very act seemed misplaced, contrived - in the face of your ________ . it seemed inappropriate for me to put a finger upon how you felt today. it was a slap in my face when i said - 'i wish i knew exactly how you are feeling', and you answered with a rather cryptic 'i'd rather you not'.

Death cannot and should not be reduced to just mere words. and in that vein, dear friend of mine, i can just hope and whisper a silent prayer for you - that the trauma of it would cease to haunt you, that your ever-resilient spirit would carry you thru and that inner strength which you possess would allow you to rise above it all.

***

i had no time to hate, because
the grave would hinder me,
and life was not so ample i
could finish enmity.

nor had i time to love, but since
some industry must be,
the little toil of love, i thought,
was large enough for me.

~ emily dickinson

***

4th of may. thats when i end. yes shooby, this is 'shasha who ends after the whole world ends'.
but exams give me that freedom away from school, that desire to plan my day the way i like it, to go to my multiple dwelling places without any temporal constraints.

there was once a girl
who was made up of junk,
she looked really dirty
and she smelled like skunk.

she was always unhappy
or in one of her slumps -
perhaps cos she spent
so much time down in the dumps.

the only bright moment
was from a guy named stan.
he was the neighbourhood
garbage man.

he loved her a lot
and made a marriage proposal,
but she'd already thrown herself
down a garbage disposal.

Junk Girl, Tim Burton, THE MELANCHOLY DEATH OF OYSTER BOY AND OTHER STORIES.

***

upon finishing my last essay for the term today, ser proudly looks at me and said - wah, you finish already? [sha nods head vehemently] - gooood girl. [sha asks - why you say good?] - very good girl. this term you are extra good. [sha defends herself - why, you mean other terms im not good!?!] - only this time (with conviction some more) - other terms you very slack. this term, very very good. (like a proud mommy, she looks at me adoringly through her [already small] eyes)

Yes Mommy. Will Listen Next Time.
This Time - IM G-O-O-D.

***

i think ive become a computer nomad.
just this past week, ive gone to

1) internet cafe (dodgy one, coffin-ed one, at katong)
2) NUS
3) Pacific Coffee, Citylink
4) SMU
5) a friend's place

to utilise today's cannot-do-without technology - in short, the c-o-m-p-u-t-e-r.
long live the nomadic spirit.
(but i hope not. dad, i need a laptop!)

A Birthday Ode to the Familiar Stranger

today was your birthday.
it's been two birthdays since ive spent it with you - the passage of time jolts me into realizing how we've got on so well with our new skin, shedding the old without tearing our flesh along with it anymore.

new lives, new hearts, new loves.
i like it better this way.

Happy 22nd, dear familiar stranger.

***

'i was wondering how close you can ever get to a person? by closeness, i mean the complete comprehension of that person's psyche, knowing what he thinks and how his mind works, what makes him tick, tock. ok, and also how much you can tell him your innermost thoughts and all. i guess its hard! thats why so many marriages end up in divorce, some friendships too.
it really bugs me to this day,that i cant find anyone on this planet whom i feel close to! isnt that amazing? and i bet lots of you are thinking in your head "wot about tarnima?" its really bizarre, but most of the time, i feel like we're more like two perfect strangers who get along pretty darn well rather than two close best friends. we are on a constant learning curve about each other's characters and personalities. we are also constantly amused by each other and thats why we never get bored of each other's company. but ultimately, both of us are so independent that we cant be considered 'close' to each other. at least, not by this definition. i guess what im trying to say is that after all these years, my innermost self has been preserved (i sound like a prune) which i've never really truly devoted to any single one. i've never given myself up totally to anyone. maybe thats why i cant ever begin to fathom myself attached. the idea, as the years pass, is becoming more and more foreign.'

Notes
1. Tarnima is Shooby's bestestbest friend, all the way back from ACJC.
2. Shooby has never been attached.

Credits

Shoobydooby [http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=lifewithfleur (6th April 2005)]

***

ser wonders why i utilise these various items at my new place;

1)bathrobes - as a buffer between the aircond-ified-induced cold and that bare skin
2)sunblock - since curtains are non-existent as of now and my UV phase is still ongoing and forever will be
3)shades - the rays, the gleaming rays! n my poor squinting eyes (courtesy of her own suggestion too)

we made a makeshift curtain to block out the morning sun (the sun incidentally acts as a sort of a natural alarm clock for me, since the heat settles in on me by 8 am and hence, the early bird rises)(and hopes she catches the worm).

our props;
1)ladder
2)foldable mats
and voila, the early bird gets a good morn rest without roasting.

***

i became Surrogate Beaver. Passing by the Beavers one fine day (and with them, its always coincidental, never intentional) (and on that perhaps u might want to rename me Phantom Beaver), Princess Jasmine had a birthday on so we (jas, me, fir, eleine, jeza, von) trooped down to Holland's Essential Blue and had a fishy affair and some more fishy affair in the form of Fir-ry and his beautiful (no less, only more) harems.

check out http://www.fireeks.net/ (entry on 5th April 2005) to satisfy your voyeuristic tendencies in relation to this Beaver-citing Fishy-fying affair.

***

im glad that with friendships, there's no such thing as counting the cost. thank you for understanding, for your dear concern, for basically still wanting to give me that big beary hug at the end of the day when ive been too busy being a terrible and non-existent friend to you.

im literally seeing stars. its been a gruesome gruelling 5 hr (and more) doing my 10 pg essay in school and im not kiddin its so intense that the end of this essay will find me unable to produce any grey matter so no that means no human conversations till tomorrow cos sha2 is a zombified cyborg. i think in me there is a streak of an obsessive compulsive behavior and that perfectionist- with regards to conjecturing up the perfect research and thesis that in the end i still get terrible remarks because i always hand things up late.

that went the same for econs - think why marhaini and me were buddies friends cos my tys and me were best companions n they obsessive-compulsive me befriended the holy grail of economics. also my obsessive compulsive me showed up during canoeing days thats why you guys didnt see me around much n now its taking over my life with this perfect film essay which is no more perfect cos gonna make me hand it up late (no! i still got an hour n a half) and my head is whirling and one thing ive learnt bout university education is that trhey really do equip you with 'work best under pressure' cooker and to air your bluff and come up with things that enable you to embellish those essays with so-called intellectual fluff which do sound logical, only when you're in FASS and you can call your shots if you have wonderful powers of convincing-ation ,which i dont.

air your fluff, call your bluff.
shasha please dont make me laugh.

its not a cry you hear at night, its not somebody who's seen the light

There was a time you'd let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me do you?
Remember when I moved in you?
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah

I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah, Rufus Wainwright
Shrek Soundtrack

***

ONE-LINER OF THE DAY

we play some jazz, some funk, basically just junk.

something like that from the movie Robot (or something like that title-wise)