Red Right Ankle

I am a princess, and you are a pirate. Why? Just because I can. And I am. And you are. And we all are.


Lalalalalala..... (oh no not again!)

Finally, my exams are over. My brain is going to undergo reverse osmosis or diffusion and get rid of all the pointless crap I've been studying for the past years like why dy/dx is always 0 at the turning point of the curve or why Newton does not have a fourth law or why soluble salts can produce insoluble salts and aaaaaanybloodything I want to forget.

It's good to forget sometimes. There's a whole shelf filled with books just calling my name. My tabs are filled with bookmarked eBay finds. And I've heard there's a sale tomorrow full of good happy things for me. These are things I want to remember.

Thank you everyone who has been with me so far. It was hard letting go of some of you, knowing that I'd probably not see you again for a long time. Watching you take those final steps away from the years we shared together. I lovelovelove you all so much! And yes, as S said, always remember. I will, I promise.

It was a great journey, but I'm glad I've finally reached the end of this road. The next adventure is just around the corner, but I think I'll take a slower pace for a while until I catch my breath again. Have a great holiday and Merry Christmas in advance loves!!! from Hachikuro and I.


Rainy Days Never Stay!

Things are going from bad to worse.

I've purposely disobeyed myself and read three (okay, maybe 7) of the novels I'd so painfully set aside for myself. Actually, I'd gone one step further and hidden them away somewhere so I wouldn't find them. And if you're wondering, 'hmm is that possible? i mean, she hid them herself, right? so wouldn't she be able to remember where they are?' then you don't know me at all! I lose things that I was holding three seconds ago. Which is why my room is a treasure chest of random things! Seriously, the other day I discovered a purple heart necklace. From Canada. From when I was 7. Or 8, I cannot remember. The best part? After dissecting it to obtain beads for my next experiment, I lost them. And my three black heart pendants! And my pink watch! And my moisturiser! Lord, help me.

Oh but the point of this post was to convey to you how horrible I am at maintaining order and discipline in my life. As you may or may not know, I am currently sitting for my finals of finals, and should therefore be studying my heart out. But I am D, and so I have embarked on a personal mission - to fail my exams. Are you laughing at me? I'll show you!

Exhibit A

D is often seen perusing magazines and books which were strictly to be read only after the exams, and abandoning her textbooks under her bed.

Exhibit B

D wakes up just in time to get ready and head to school. She sleeps in the car, and during the papers as well.

Exhibit C

D sleeps early on exam days, usually with her textbook in one hand and a pink highlighter in the other. Do not be fooled into thinking that her comatose nature is due to an overdose of studying. There is usually a laptop in front of her, with the words eBay prominently displayed on it.

Exhibit D

After a day of exams, D usually heads to the nearby mall to get her fix of iced chocolate and pastries. Though many sane students know that too much sugar or salt is not good for your body during exams, D chooses to ignore this information and shovels junk food into her body at regular intervals.

Exhibit E

D enjoys torturing herself, and eats spicy food designed to melt the toughest of stomach walls, though she herself is unable to stand even the slightest hint of pepper. Yes, pepper is considered by D to be spicy. Yet she tries every bit of spicy food she can get during the exams, and once woke up with the intense urge to throw up, which lasted throughout her papers on that day. Also, she ran to the toilet every 15 minutes or so.

Exhibit F

D forgot to set her alarm clock 9 times out of 10, and had to rely on her super waking up on time skills, which sadly, didn't work 10 times out of 9. So, it was super Mommy to the rescue, and D learned to awaken to frantic pounding on the door and angry shouts streaming through the crack under it.

Exhibit G

Hachikuro, D's alleged study mascot, has been seen making beaded necklaces and bracelets with her numerous times. The two also enjoy surfing the web together, staring out of the window at absolutely nothing, and falling asleep after a good Agatha Christie movie (And Then There Were None!). The two have developed a new found obsession for ANTM (Hachikuro roots for Jenah, D for Chantal) and Project Runway Canada (both like Biddell and MG, but hate Iman and Shernett). D is even attempting to teach Hachikuro to play the piano. Lately, D and Hachikuro have been searching eBay for another stuffed unicorn, so they can have tea parties.

Exhibit H

Has D not been posting even more often on her blog? Doesn't she usually have four or five posts a month? But lately, the number of entries has grown in size. In fact, what is she doing now?

And if I happen to, I don't know, fail all my papers, then please direct me back to this post to show me why I am such a useless waste of space so that we can all get on with our lives.

Back to procrastinating!

On a completely irrelevant side note, I love all the heart shapes in the previous post. And the sidebar. I know, self-praise is no praise, but come on. I'm D, so what'd you expect? Restraint? Get out of this blog, please.


My Pink Batman


My mommy bought me a unicorn today.
She's (yes it's a girl do you have a problem with that?!) pink and white and sparkly.
I am in love right now.
Even my parents think she's cute.
Haha she's gonna be my study mascot.
Thank you my lovely parents!

I'm still trying to think of a name for her.

June Gloom?
Raspberry Rush?
Cream Soda?
Bubble Toes?

Update: Her name is Hachikuro.
After Hachimitsu no Kuroba my true love.


Herstory of Glory

So today was a good day because our exams finished early. And by our, I mean mine. Let me explain.

We're allowed to leave the exam hall early, like 25 minutes after the paper starts. Obviously once you leave, you can't return, right? So before the exam, which was an English paper, W and I made a little bet. We'd heard the paper would be much harder than usual, so just to torture me, he said that I'd never be able to complete the paper in my usual time - 20 minutes. I shot back that I would, and I'd leave as soon as they let me. He laughed and the deal was sealed.

Just to raise the stakes, I called my dad and told him to pick me up early. Like forty five minutes early, since the exam would last for an hour and fifteen minutes. Now, I could not afford to lose.

And it was on.

We went in, him grinning and me furiously clutching my pencil while suppressing the urge to flip him the bird in front of everyone. A pat on the back, and we headed for our seats. The minute I got the paper, I quickly flipped to the first question. Read it carefully and thoroughly, then answered. Until I had finished everything. Went over the paper twice more. And one last time, just to be on the safe side. Stared up at the huge clock on the wall, and I smiled in triumph.

Fifteen minutes. God, how I love multiple choice.

And for the next ten minutes I leisurely checked my paper, biding my time until the big hand swung to the 6. Sneaked a glance at W, who was furiously clutching his head between both hands. Any time now. Ding! The invigilator nodded in approval at my paper, and gestured to the door. I swept the hall with one glance. First one to leave. Picked up my stationery and sauntered to the doors nonchalantly, but not before turning to shoot a smirk at W, whose mouth was hanging open. Surreptitiously, I crooked my fingers into a crude gun shape and aimed them at him. Mouthed the words.

"Bang... you lose."

I walked out into the sunlight.


This Strange Effect

I love the fact that, even two hours after you cracked an inside joke, I was still laughing about it. In the centre of the exam hall, surrounded by cranky invigilators and panicking students. Facing the papers of our life. Everyone staring at the one girl who found it all so amusing.

And I could only laugh even more.

Painted skies
I've seen so many that cannot compare
To your ocean eyes
The pictures you took
That cover your room
And it was just like the sun
But more like the moon
A light that can reach it all
So now I'm branded for taking the fall

So when you say forever
Can't you see you've already captured me?

In the middle of all this confusion, you shine brighter.


The Dancer's Lament

Bought out a whole book sale (almost...), had the best Indian food ever and now there's a tub of strawberry ice-cream calling my name from the freezer. I'm very happy because I've been stockpiling up on novels and such so after the exams, I'm gonna lock myself up in my room and emerge victorious like after a week or so. Omigod I think I might have around 50 new books now joy joy joy joy!

I'm waiting till holidays to hit eBay again because there are so many nice outfits but it really makes me upset when the stuff I like doesn't come in my size! Like I'm around 5"9 and have kinda broad shoulders so that's gotta be taken into consideration. And I'm also weirdly built (bust is 31.5 inches, waist is 25-26 inches that sorta thing) so when I find something I like, three things usually happen.

It's too short. It's too big. It's too small (especially the goddamn shoulders). Argh the torture! I think I'm gonna go on some crash diet so that I can blame the fashion industry for an unhealthy obsession with my body. But is it wrong for me to wanna be taller?

And I'm ashamed to say that I only recently ventured into the world of online retail. For the life of me, I cannot seem to recall why on earth I was so against it in the beginning.

The most important exams are starting soon so I'd better get studying, I will see you all in 19 days!


The Longest Story

Blue-eyed sun shines on me
In the morning
Can't help but feel a little cold
Thinking of you

'Cause I see the light surrounding you
So don't be afraid of something new

It is always the tiny, completely random and selfless things that make me love you. Like laughing with me and not at me when I make stupid jokes that you never get, then cracking stupider ones of your own. Nodding your head as if you understood my endless chatter when in fact all you heard was static. Walking long distances beside me just so I wouldn't feel alone. Singing your own version of oldies just to cheer me up. Patiently guiding me when I needed help and never once calling me an idiot. Comforting me when I moaned and cried about so many stupid things. Sticking up for me in your own odd ways. Sternly telling me that I needed a man with muscles to protect me from the world (best quote ever) when I said how much I hate super buff men. Snapping at people when you felt that they'd done something to make me sad. Abandoning your studies and walking out of class just to sit down beside me as I attempted to organize the mess that was my locker. Carrying my bags for me in the rain all the way to my car even though they weighed a ton and you were already supposed to be leaving for home.

Thank you for having been a part of my life. We may not have been perfect together, but I think we turned out alright in the end. There is no nicer guy out there than you. I can't wait to see who you become, and I know you'll do fine in everything you do. I will never regret having met you.


I see you by the water
Your toes dipped in the sand
I thought that it was over
I thought you'd understand
But the feeling is returning
Though time has made us change
And I understand if you don't
Wanna talk to me about it tonight


D Un

It was inevitable, I guess, this change in me - so sudden and yet so gradual at the same time. That crept up on me so silently, yet set off so many alarms and warning bells in my head that I wonder how I missed all the signs. Was I pretending that nothing was happening? Did I put up walls of denial, so high and thick that even my deepest thoughts could not penetrate them?

Who have I become, this person so different and foreign to me? I look in the mirror sometimes and think, same eyes, hair, lips. But who are you? My brain is drowning in an endless ocean of self doubt and hesitation. I need an answer. Mary Mary Quite Contrary. How do you grow? Who do you grow into?

It was just the other day that I was mucking around in that grey shirt of mine that sags in the chest area, the one that everyone says I will never be able to fill out but I just laugh in response. When did I turn into the girl who stood in queues silently mocking people, cruelly laughing at their shortcomings when I myself am far from perfect. Who am I to judge these people?

Five years ago, I was 12, Howl's Moving Castle and Sarah Brightman melded together to create a cocoon of happiness that brought me to peace with the world as I sat on the cold wooden floor. The intense feeling of euphoria and serenity was overwhelming and for years to come I would remember that night and cry silently. At that moment I was truly content, how blessed I was to experience such pure unadulterated joy emanating from everything that surrounded me.

When did I become the person who demands more and more in exchange for the tiniest bit of kindness and love? Have I been bought out so easily, that I am willing to sacrifice all my feelings for things that I can only have on the outside, but cannot keep on the inside? When did I shed the skin that carried me through childhood for this teenage one, this rough and unfamiliar skin that flares up at every single barb or sting, no matter how small? Have I always been this sensitive that tears spill out of my eyes despite the insignificance of the matter?

Maybe I'm a snake, shedding layer after layer of skin without missing any of them. Poisonous fangs and the inability to feel anything for anyone other than myself now. But the only difference is there is no snake charmer around to dazzle me and put me back in my basket. I hiss and dart at everyone, no one understands. Not that I expect them to, I don't even understand myself at times and everything that I'm going through.

I try to hold it all together, but the seams have been strained far too much and threaten to explode. An hour ago, it did. I picked up a book, just an ordinary book with a black cover and red words decorating its face. I'd been meaning to save it to read as a gift to myself after the exams so I'd kept it tucked away somewhere safe. I just wanted to admire it and put it back but when I ran my fingers down it I knew something was wrong.

The light always reveals our flaws and why should that book have been any different? Two huge creases down the front and the cover had come apart in layers, just like my skin. That book was me and I was that book in that moment and I cried to see something I loved in such bad shape. Broke down even more when I stupidly yet optimistically tried to rid it of the creases with an eraser of all things and the heat turned to the highest level on my hairdryer. Yes I failed, in more ways than one.

I love my books, is that so hard to understand? Seeing creases in them is like seeing tears and cuts in my skin. Sure I have rescued secondhand books not in so good shape from bookstores because they needed love, and I have never judged them because of their looks. But know that when I buy new books that have never had a single blemish on them, I try so hard to preserve them in that state, turning their pages with a touch as soft as whispers on skin. Opening them just the slightest bit so their spine remains intact as I delve deeper and deeper into the story.

My brother speaks harshly. Throw her away. Useless help. Why do we even pay her? And I find myself agreeing, selfish as it may be. Could it be that I do indeed value my possessions over the feelings and the emotions of others? If so, why don't I feel the slightest bit guilty? I'd like to speak up in her defense, but my mouth remains shut. I am still angry over my book, after all.

Perhaps I am a cold hearted person, just like my skin that never seems to retain enough warmth to get me past the cold days in school, or maybe my icy insides freeze me from the inside out while making me think that it is not my fault. Deja vu, is that what it is now? The months that have passed sometimes seemed like a dream, something I conjured up in my imagination before experiencing it in real life. How funny but true, sort of like a trial or a test run before the actual thing. And I wondered how my life could be so repetitive, why I was doomed to repeat the past before the present had even begun.

She ruined my stuff too, he says. I nod sympathetically, I understand, I comfort while crying. The guitar case. The dent. Clumsy fool stupid idiot bloodybloodybloody. We are not like that, are we? Do we call people such names? Since when? Oh yeah, since just now. You have changed too, I try to tell him by sending mental messages. Why? Why did you?

I think that I am more potent that alcohol, just by myself I have killed too many of my brain cells to bear and filled millions more with information of no importance. Actually I heard that alcohol doesn't even kill your brain cells so I have proven how truly self-destructive I am. Who needs drugs and such when I have myself. Bitter. I have rotted myself to the core.

Life is funny like that, you learn something new even when you're holding that stuffed elephant your dad gave you when you were five and constantly clinging on to his knees so he had to carry you everywhere. Which leads me to conclude that there is no subject in the world that you can possibly know everything about, especially when you don't even know the number of moles you have on your arms and how your hair turns the colour of rust in the sun and how your smile quirks higher on the left than the right and how you are so different from who you used to be.

Once I think I had a blog entry, about snobby private school girls whose words rolled off their tongues as easily as their money out of their wallets. Silly frivolous females, I said. Silly. Frivolous. Not me. Not me at all. Oh god I wish I had bitten my tongue off that day. The words don't come out right anymore, just a few sentences. I want that. I need that. Can I get that? Filthy. I sometimes wish that I would choke on them, become allergic to them, develop a phobia of them or something. Anything. Silly. Frivolous. Words. My words.

Who's sorry now? Mr. Man in the Elevator asked me one day if I knew the words to the song. No, I told him, so he sang it for me. When I went back home, I googled the song. He was right. I don't know who sings it really, this Connie Francis or Dean Martin, but it didn't matter. Doesn't.

Who's sorry now
Who's sorry now
Whose heart is aching for breaking each vow
Who's sad and blue
Who's crying too
Just like I cried over you.

Right to the end
Just like a friend
I tried to warn you somehow
You had your way
Now you must pay
And I'm glad that you're sorry now.

Right to the end
Just like a friend
I tried to warn you somehow
You had your way
Now you must pay
I'm glad that you're sorry now.

So glad that you're sorry now...

Well Mr. Man in the Elevator, I do know this song now. I quite wish that you would bump into me one day and ask me again. Do you now? And I would sing it to you. And I would tell you, yes I am sorry. I am sorry now. But then again, I don't think I would. I don't like admitting that I am wrong, never have and I'm not going to change anytime soon.

I hate change.