Inconsequential Product Review #1 : GARNIER White Naturals Overnight Whitening Peeling Cream

Garnier White Naturals Overnight Whitening Peeling Cream

Welcome to my review of the above product. I hope this helps someone out there.

First of all, this product's name is way too long. However, in its defense, it is in no way a marketing ploy and is pretty spot-on about what it does. For example, a "spot corrector" could be a great concealer, a pimple buster, a bleaching agent, some to remove unsightly blood stains with, a dog-killing agent (but only for dogs names "spot") etc. But no, this product is an Overnight Whitening Peeling Cream.


Packaging
The small tub follows the same colour and design theme as the entire Ganier White range. This range was placed in Singapore to the propagate "white is best, any VESTIGE of colour is inferior" white supremacist colonial mindset. But don't allow me to digress. After all, I did buy it, didn't I?

Simple instructions are printed both on the recyclable hard paper lining as well as the tub itself. This works very well for me because I love getting rid of things. Even things I actually need. This is, of course, rather cumbersome and.. inconvenient at times, but the emotional reward garnered from throwing things away is irreplaceable. Point is, I hate saving boxes and plastics, but almost always forget the instructions on any given product. This has literally resulted in bad tastes in my mouth before. And strange rashes. What I mean is this: If you're anything like me, you would really appreciate the double print.

The glass tub is like any other, with it weighing more than the actual product it contains. This is imperative so that the price is justified. To Garnier's credit, there was a good amount of product in it, and it doesn't take too much for each application to be fruitful. Also, I've dropped the glass a few times on marble surfaces. No cracks, leaks or spills.


Product
The cream itself is pure white and has a tangy and very appealing scent. Upon first looking at it, it looks like a regular Nivea-type night cream. Do not be deceived.

A tiny dollop the size of a penny is amply sufficient for each cheek. The application insists upon using it across the whole face, but I would personally recommend it on the T-zone for contouring purposes and the cheeks if there are any scars that need lightening. I bought this product because I used to have some acne and the scarring was superficial but reddish, and I was just too damn lazy to go to the dermatologist to get over-priced AHA/Vitamin A/Acids or go for silly frivolous facials, which, incidentally gave me these scars. I would not pick at my pimples. I'm not that stupid. But I am apparently stupid enough to let people from FIL who insist they are beauticians do so for $900. But you know, I'll let bygones be bygones.

When you first put Garnier White Naturals Overnight Whitening Peeling Cream on, you will feel like your face smells better. Fresh and happy. With rainbows. Then, you'll experience a slight tingling sensation where the product was. I rubbed it into my skin till it was smooth, but not greasy. Allow yourself to enjoy said tingling sensation. The cream is penetrating your cornified layer to do its job of making you look more like the white person you've always striven to be. You can place other creams atop this one, but I pretty much left it alone for the sake of a good review.

The cream immediately lightens your skin slightly. If I didn't have the reddish acne scarring, I would have looked about 50% more radiant and bright. It makes you have that healthy glow. I went to sleep with great hopes.

The next morning, nothing looked different. Much to my surprise, this cream doesn't leave your skin greasy AT ALL. so instead of waking up with an oil layer like I usually do with other night creams, my face was reasonably matte and fresh-looking. The skin on my cheeks were extremely smooth. I applied some friction on it to see if rubbing it made my skin peel. Lots of dead skin cells came off easily and it was very pleasant. Mmm...

Warning: IF you are in any way obsessive-compulsive, please do not rub your skin as it will result in over exfoliation leading to mild irritation and redness, and whatever you do with your life after reading my review is in no way my fault.

Was my skin any WHITER? Yes and no. The tone of the skin was the same, since I tested my foundation on the same area. However, this product really gives one radiance and brightens one's skin. You also feel very fresh after each application. I would place photos, but are you insane? I still want a career and a love life, you know. Anyway, you should all know that Photoshop is a VERY accessible program, so don't trust them photos.

EYES: I applied this product for a couple weeks under the eyes to see if the whitening effect had any weight on my dark eye circles. No such luck, we are better off with paraben-free Vitamin K.

SCARS: New scars were much lighter in 5 days, and general skin tone, texture and colour was brighter and yes, whiter. The spots lightened so considerably that I bought another tub, even though the one I had was still good. Kiasu.


Price & Verdict
At approximately $30 a tub, Garnier White Naturals Overnight Whitening Peeling Cream is by no means unaffordable. If you use it every night religiously, it could last you up to a month. And that's a great investment. If for some reason the peeling action doesn't work for you, then it still functions as a great overnight moisturizer that neither clogs pores nor leaves skin oily in the morning.

Extract: "The night cream helps to gently peel off surface dead skin cells with powerful micro-peeling fruit extracts (with AHA blend). Pure lemon essence and long dan also help to slow down melanin production in the skin and formation of dark spots."

I don't know about the slowing down, because I'm not the type who likes to form dark spots wherever. Still, I was extremely skeptical about the peeling mechanism contributed by the fruit extracts. I mean, PEELING? A cream? Come on. I honestly thought it was a silly marketing ploy (which I fell for). However, it really does work, and for $30, this is not only a worthy investment, but an honest-to-God steal.


BUY.

Krystal Choo | Cuppa' TEE, 130509

The Inaugural Krystal Choo | Cuppa' TEE
(Technology, Events, Entertainment)
by Krystal Choo

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Alright everyone, anyone who knows me knows I'm the geekiest girl around. Don't believe it? Take a nice guess on where I spend my lazy afternoons. Where does this Asian girl wander into when she sees something flashy? Come follow me on my adventures!

IT bags, chi-chi accessorties? Pass. De Beers un Tiffany's? Double Pass.

Hardward and Electronics Stores? YES SIR, PLEASE!

So I spend about 3 hours everyday surfing the net, scouring for information on the coolest gadgets, ground-breaking events and most entertaining getups all over the globe. Do I know what Obama is up to? Hell, no. Do I know how e-ink techonology works? Yes, that and so many other seemingly geeky things, from how to brick or jailbreak a WinMo phone, to what is set to shake the entertainment arena next.

Join me for a Cuppa' TEE.

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Your Facebook Relationship Status: It's Complicated
Its not longer a social networking platform. It is who you are. Don't have Facebook? Who ARE you? Your relationship status says a lot, and it isn't something trivial like how Friendster profiles used to project couples in love being "married", or the occasional cynic putting his stamp on being "divorced".


Absinthe Legal. Now to be Enjoyed.
Now absinthe is legal again, and the romance of belle époque naughtiness must give way to what’s in the glass. Pull over, you disillusioned dreamers: with no laws to break, no frissons of danger, let the mystification stop right now. A trippy trip down the golden brick road of 20 different Absinthes to be experienced.


The Failure of 3G Hurts Apple and Its Competition
3G has always been overrated, IMO. The transition from the previous Blackberry Curves to the Bold showed vast improvements over the UI (user interface), but surf speed was not noticeably better. Compare this to a 3G smartphone or Pocket PC and methinks 3G is just a term generated for the masses to understand GPRS. Move over, let's bring in the real 3rd Generation, aka WiMAX/4G.


Angels and Demons; What Controversy?
I recently received an email regarding being Catholic and boycotting the latest instalment of the series that sent many a devout Catholic seething into pits of Rage (one of the 7 deadly sins, ironically). Funny though, in a related link, the Vatican doesn't seem to care too much. Is this a case of a different kind of crucifixion in today's age of finding an identity?


Cordless Audio for Everyone
The AirCurve is an environmentally-friendly gadget that allows iPhone owners to broadcast their music - nothing new, except that it doesn't expend additional energy. This is the technology to have if you're conscious of the environmental situation - or always end up in places without power points.


New York's Legislature Approves Gay Marriage
With the recent news about Singapore's AWARE, read: Sex-ed "promoting" homosexuality V. Homosexuality is "not neutral", its only natural to pick up with the sexual tension has left off. Over on the other side of the world, more "progress" is being made while this cosmopolitan society still holds large numbers thinking that giving equal rights re: sexual orientation is regression in its most uncultured form.


Krystal Choo | Cuppa' TEE #1

Fog of Destiny; Anchor of Being

At some point in our lives, all of us will, by hook or crook, come to realize that the only thing we can ever hope to control is ourselves.

TweetDeck and Multi-Functionality

Sarong Party Girl vs angmohgai vs Locals Part 1

I hate to vent on the blog because people who vent are sad, lonely creatures who cannot handle their emotions and/or thoughts in a socially acceptable way, thus inflicting their stresses upon the many terabytes of data floating in this universe causing an as-yet-unknown form of verbal pollution.

But I have to vent.

Recently, I've been going out with angmohgais / guai loh / expats. Am I an SPG (Sarong Party Girl)? Yes. In fact, twice when I went out with angmohgais, I wore sarongs. The point is, its not that I don't care - because I do. I am hardly independent enough to not need validation from my fellow countrymen. But I resent this greatly.

Of course, we could do this the legal pad way. Pros and Cons, Compare and Contrast, et al. But why would I when the comparisons are so painfully obvious? Because, otherwise, I would get such hair-raisingly predictable responses that I would forever regret this diatribe.

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A Brief History:

I date local men. All races, but local. I dated angmohgai when I was 16, but that was incidental, mostly. Here and there I've seen a few, but none to catch my fancy enough that I've wanted to date seriously or project myself into the future with. And I am a highly future-projecting person.

A Review:

What is it about angmohgai that I dislike?

1. Arrogance and Superiority Complex
2. Hirsutism
3. Man boobs
4. The stigma that attaches itself to me automatically should I (GASP!) be seen in public with them
5. Ethnocentrism

I have met many a bad egg in an angmohgai. While they hide their crude and imposing ideals under a sheepskin of cultural ignorance and the appearance of being liberal, I honestly feel that this is solely an American/Australian trait ala lack of tact. Sensitivity aside, these men give you a sense of being lucky to be in their presence, because they are the rulers of the universe. They know that even if you are not an SPG interested in them for whatever reason, there will be many more after you. Many, many more. And they are right.

But may I beg to differ?

You, my dear angmohgai, are in for a real treat. If you are acting like the above jerk I just described, you have invariably fallen into the low ranks of diarrheatic snails. Your inability to see people beyond their race and culture is disgusting at best, and you will end up with said SPG. Except, they will be a lower class of SPG. Yes, there are classes.

First class:
1) Asian girls who are overseas-educated. These women are very globalised, they are independent, know what they want, and recognise that, more than likely, they would get along better with someone equally traveled. Which are not most local men. They may have a foreign accent, but this has nothing whatsoever to do with said angmohgais.

Business class:
2) Asian girls who are locally-educated but exposed to many different people and cultures via family, friends, media and business connections. They may be brought up in a liberal environment, or may have forced themselves to be propelled from the mould that, with a mere moment of ignorance, one falls in easily. They have an international accent, which is really a basic form of English understood by everyone. These girls date angmohgais because they find separate cultures fascinating and are open to new things.

Economy class:
3) Asian girls who are very local in culture, mannerisms and views. They are narrow-minded and do not see the big picture. The only big picture is themselves and their comfortable lives. Even though they may be reasonably sheltered, they are smart enough to know that the expat population here, on average, earns more than a local gai, therefore giving them a greater opportunity at a more financially-appealing (not necessarily BETTER) life.

Budget class:
4) Asian girls who have nothing but the look of an Asian person. These people often dress like hookers and have strange accents. Their only salvation is that perhaps they are good in bed, and then too, that may be debatable. These girls don't discriminate in their angmohgai-dating lifecycle, white = good. Period.

This article is too long. I run out of span for attention. And I don't feel so angsty anymore. I'll continue in time. But I am 2), FYI.

To Unpathed Waters; To Undreamed Shores

All men dream but not equally.

Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible.

Spain booed by China

Every ethnic group/countrist-elitist thinks they're some...colonial master.

Maybe I should try to be a colonial master, too.. hmm.

Utterly Drowning in the Air of Oversight

But I will pull through. I can do this. No more negative thinking
Boy, am I overwhelmed or what

No

I'm just slain helpless on an altar serving the inevitability of time.

The Solitary Age

It seems that technology has come a full circle, albeit loaded with spirals making up that circle. Although I once found writing a relief, a bit like getting a load off my back, the pollution of thoughts, feelings and even actions via video has disgusted me to a point where i back off and out from this tidal wave of narcissism.

It seems the need to be heard is a central irony in today's environment. From one's underwear to one's laptop, everything is a statement. Nothing, too, is a statement. As a well-dressed person, you are scrutinized to be a social floater, a book read by its cover, and consequently judged as a mannequin clone of today's fashion trends. As someone who throws a crappy shirt and jeans unwashed since purchase, you are sneered down from the fake nose bridges supporting oversized sunglasses, even stared at by tiny canine eyes from chi-chi "summer" bags. Neither age nor gender is a recluse from the claws of the retail business - and yes, it is a business. A global $700 billion one.

Who am I? Today I wear a bangle - I am a simple girl, trying not to stand out, yet worried that I may be looked over if I were plain as Jane. Today I wear high heels, hand-made, leather woven - I'm a superficial fashionista strutting on a pavement no different than the skin of those who labour to create it. Today I wore shorts - I don't care about my image, nor about the offended sensibilities of everyone else who find themselves exposed to un-liposuctioned, un-mesotherapied, un-UVtanned thighs. No matter what I wear, I am not me. I am a description -painfully negative, mostly untrue, and fleeting in nature. Every careful thesis constructed to justify what I wear has an equal and opposite antithesis that can and will be observed by the very people I dress to impress. Then, of course, I snap pictures conveying extreme fun, hollywood-style, tres chic, living the high life. And the inches of makeup hides those very real expressions etched beneath my skin, lasered to perfection and botoxed to plasticity.

I post these pictures up; propoganda to my cause. Look at me! View my profile (x) times. I am defined by the number generated daily by a script someone 100000 miles created. Taking it a step further, I write "thoughts" down.

"The girls and I (friends who would only be there for the good times) were practically elbowing our way through the crowd.. (of nobodys who wanted to be somebodys).. the media launch was full of wannabes, and those guys..(genuine people who happened to be there, who are actually nice if you speak to them, who would be much better husbands than the guy wearing $1000 jeans).. EW! Anyway, great Marco (alternatively-sexually-oriented fashionista) bought us cosmos (drink of the moment) and the DJ (some international person I pretended to know) spun uber (word I dont actually know the meaning of) smooth (lingo I try to use occasionally) that night ROCKEDD (Just soaking up the celebrity-ness of everything made me feel cool)!!"

Thesis Vs. Antithesis.

Then I take a video, and more videos, soon I'm being mildly pornographic on free video-sharing sites. Look at me! Look at my new dress, my lipstick, my in-the-moment overpriced something from somewhere I never heard of! And the multitude of people say look at me, look at me, and soon, the whole world is glued to the screen - a global convergence of voyeurs. The techonology we built has turned us into perverts, gossips, judges. We are free not from opinions, not from the subconscious enclavement, and most definitely, not from ourselves. We are then desensitized - we watch murders (REAL ones) for the adrenalin kick we get from ooohing and aahhing. The next time we watch one, its old news. We see more, experience more, tolerate more.. until everything is nothing and the person who said 'Look at me!' with all his/her might gets a miserly video-view number, not because what he/she did was normal, but because everyone is doing so many unnatural things for attention that the NEW societal norm has spun into a global culture that is all histrionic exhibitionism, secretless opposing lives, and an emptiness unfilled by neither couture bags, profile views, nor declaring sexual orientation.. "just because". No one can tell these people that they just look weird. It would be deemed politically incorrect.

When once, preferences and idiosyncrasies were secrets only those we chose to let in knew, they are not shouted from the rooftops. When once, music brought us an ethereal release, it is now demarcated to define a psychographic following. When once, we were just ourselves, and people enjoyed each other's company regardless of externities, we have created an abyss so deep that we never really know who we talk to, and those we talk to never know who we really are. The saddest thing is, neither do we. In the rush to chase this norm, we have lost all that is human in us. Or maybe, individualism is evolution. After all, sharks hunt alone.

In our effort to be as connected as possible, we have dug a lone grave for ourselves even before due date. The death of personality. This theatric - all of this - is not a tragedy. It is merely a phase; an oxymoron like one of the caterpillar and butterfly; transitioning the happy child into a monster shrouded in Spanish and Parisian brands, sipping a mojito to deafening music and really, enjoying nothing.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Solitary Age.

Personal Reflections

I sometimes wish there were more people on Earth like me.

Contrary to popular belief (at least 75% of the 3 readers of this blog thinks so, and 80% of statistics are made up on the fly), this is not a statement borne of narcissism or self-obsession, though I can perfectly understand why one would think so. Allow me to my defense.

1) My notes would be accessible, in order, and not utterly redundant. Meaning, what you see, is what you need to know, and... nothing else.

2) Group members would not bother about friendship and kinship and yaya sisterhoods and sororities and gossiping and backstabbing.

3) Work would actually get done. On time.

4) People I meet would always be 10 minutes late. But they would always be punctual in being 10 minutes late, and thus, never truly feel rushed.

5) Conversations would not contain "liaoz, wor, ba, le, hor"....and other nondescript words. It may contain the word "like", which will annoy the heck out of everyone, not that we care.

6) I would agree on a place to eat in less than 1 minute. I would not have to wait for other people in group situations because everyone would walk at a speed that live things with 2 legs can capably walk at. I would not have to worry about details like proper research whilst doing a project. I would not have to reassess characters for twoface-ness at every chronological turn.

There are many more reasons I would like to name. But the main reason why this is 1) impossible, 2) completely unachievable, is due to the fact we would all fight over the same things, and kill each other. There would be much more war (without firearms), assorted people would die out in scary holocaustal manner (without reason). Details would never get seen to, and arty-farty-whatever projects would never really get completed.

Laws would be formulated based on elitism. Collectivism would be implemented as a last resort to rescue humanity. The calendar will be central around menstrual periods. Men would not be allowed to date without my express permission, failing which, they would fall under one of the above categories (hint: holocaustal). People would be highly dysfunctional due to manic and/or non-existent sleeping hours. They would bipolarly shift from workaholics to useless vagabonds in a span of 3 minutes. They would on one hand, be able to use the computer very well, but on the other hand, suck at math. Due to this lack of mathematical ability, no form of civilized structure will exist. There will be no more mediocrity to fill up the bell-curve. It will be a social upheaval. But really, it would be good for the world's population.. Less people to feed, less people to sue/jail/worry needlessly about/feel angst toward/pity.. It would certainly be a very passionate world.

I'd call it: utopia meets hell. Never experience regret, guilt, alliance, or cunning; at the price of needing to worry for your life. I guess that's why, just sometimes, I wish that more people were like me. But then I'd need to share my wit, my gory humor, my deadpan sucked-dry verbal repartee, my secret web of thoughts encircling emotional jugulars...

And really, what's the fun in that? :)

Petition to Revoke Acts of Natural Selfishness

I hereby announce to the great Earth that it should stop, with immediate effect, all acts of selfishness.


These acts include but are not limited to growing apple with a core of seeds, getting warmer, and/or flooding capitals of Asian cities.


The defendant in question should either rebuke these acts openly or ensure their neutrality through alternative means. For the clarity of all participants involved, an example shall here forth be laid in front of the general public.

Apples should be produced without seeds or core. The fact that the existence of seedless apples is unheard of, is direct testament to the pure selfishness of apple trees to produce eating-friendly apples.

These respective seeds are inedible, and infact, poisonous to many species of animals. They are used for the sole purpose of reproduction. This would be the human equivalent of many men ejaculating into a pool and having many women dive into it, for the current and continual process of time.

As such, apple trees should thus produce apples that can be eaten whole, and do not turn brown within seconds of being skinned and/or do not require skinning.

Also, nature should reconsider its acts of self-warming and flooding so that it can play the peaceful part it used to before human discovered seedless grapes.

A Foolish Appeal

I found this article on the net whilst going through a very rough emotional patch recently. It invokes such feelings of relation in me. I felt better just reading it - just knowing someone else truly understood. I wish that there was a professional support group with a qualified therapist to treat this. Let's just say Singapore is only on the brink of understanding depression, much less any personality disorder that is still struggling to find resonance in the medical world outside Asia. As long as I don't hurt myself or anyone else between now and then.. It should be worth the wait.

Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

When you are living with borderline personality disorder, life is to say the least ...a struggle. Life with BPD is a struggle with yourself, from the inside out and a struggle with those around you. You can never really be sure if what you think is happening is actually reality or if it is your perception. Perception can be a very tricky thing when it comes to interpersonal relationships. It gets blurry and your feelings change and change. They are no less intense from one extreme to the other. One second you can feel beautiful and the next second seeing your reflection in the mirror can completely ruin your day.

Oh, then there's the risk taking. On the days when you feel barely alive, which seems to more and more often than not. You will devise a plan, a plan of risk. A plan that is so dangerous to your life, your marriage, your home, your health, risky to the point that you could lose everything that you have worked so hard to keep. Everything you have planned so hard to throw out the window.

Now, don't get me wrong, I do not purposely set out and say to myself, "Today is the day I will ruin my life and the lives of all of those around me." In that one impulsive moment when I get the destructive idea, none else matters I am focused. When it's over, the next day I ask my self why can you focus on your own annihilation but not on your success? Its like, there are 2 of me, and the one is a sensible practical down to earth woman with goals and dreams and things that she aspires to be, and this girl she wants to save the other me. She thinks, "How do I save myself? How do I intervene on my own behalf?" There is no answer.

Then after the torrent of the binge spending, the binge drinking and all the other stuff folks like me don't want to put on paper because I know I am better than that, I know, I just know it. And then from deep inside your self it says you're nothing but a dead woman walking. That's it. You're dying. This is when the Para suicidal behavior steps in. Its after you have screwed up so bad, and the man that you're married to, he's crazy as a loon too by the way. He's mad, good and mad. He tells you what's wrong with you. How screwed up you are. And you know its true, God knows its true. You say, I'm sick that all I'm just sick right now. He doesn't care can sick make up for your memory loss between the hours of midnight and six am this morning, no being sick can not make up for that. So even though you hate him, well, you feel like you hate him for all he's done to you, you can't stand the thought of him leaving you alone in this house in this bed, that you made no one else. You beg him, please don't leave me here, don't leave me here because I want you and i love you. When that's not it at all, instead you should be saying don't leave me here with myself, alone. I don't even know if I love you, I think it may just be codependency-but then again I can't tell because I don't know the difference, because I am screwed up.

He leaves and you turn on yourself, everything is a mess, you're a mess, your hate yourself. You hurt so badly on the inside you could claw you eyeballs out. All for what, all because you felt restless, that what you tell yourself and now you have to pay, with your heart being shredded by none other than yourself. You decide, I'm going to end it I can't live like this. You cry and you scream and you pull at your hair and you lay in bed and think, think about how you want to do it, and see the twisted thing that makes you sick, is your doing this not because you want to die but because you want "HIM" to pay, you want to punish him you want him to feel the hurt you feel, so you write goodbye letters stating you love so and so and your sorry yada, yada, yada, you know the usual, all the while you have no real intention of doing anything, you just have to do this to ease the pain. You're numb but strangely you can feel everything. So many emotions that you can't even communicate what they are to another person. You mind never stops analyzing.

He then comes home and he soothes you because he sees that you have been up to what he thinks is no good, he's concerned now no longer angry you say you'll do better and for a few moths everything on the outside looks so perfect you almost have yourself fooled.

Then, it starts all over again.

That is living with BPD.

:'(

A Web of Intricate Nothings

The simplest things are hardest to do. Things like saying sorry, saying I love you, doing something to prove either.. or just being there for a friend.

So, stuck in a stasis spiralling around the same process, we end up complicating things. Complicating things to avoid the simple. And before we know it.. Before we can realize to just do that one simple thing

We're stuck in a complicated entanglement of empty promises, and lost ideals, and emotional debris, and those memories.. and everything.. Everything but that one simple thing.

E-eyes

To my complete and utter dismay, I seem to have been on the computer so long and often that after reading today, I only managed to finish 90 pages of the SAT book I had but never used, whilst on the computer I can read oh, i don't know, for hours? I read the whole harry potter book on my computer (thus saving $$ and space). My reading of paper is so exponentially slow as compared to that when on the computer. How can I take tests and exams this way? I'd surely be at a disadvantage to those who lead an alternative lifestyle.

Yet the irony lies in the fact that you study so that you can get a good job. And good jobs ALL and very aptly, too, requires you to have more than basic fundamental computer knowledge to perform well. Even if you were good at math or statistics on paper, what good would it be if you are unable to present it in a form that can be distributed to other parties who are unable to be present at said presentation? If you had ideas, you'd need at least Microsoft Word to facilitate your delivery of these ideas to others. And inevitably, there is the case of instant communication. How in the world then, can we NOT be using computers? Progress seems only possible with technology, nowadays defined by either mobility, accessibility and most importantly, functionality in relation to our everyday lives, whatever it may be.

And so this post hails the artist, the calligrapher, the pious and the enlightened. Who need no external means to aid expressing themselves as purely as possible, and thus completely reducing the risk of delivering a misunderstood message to zero. These are the ones who should be lionized, for they, in their profession, have found a direct means to live without interference and the consequent distractions technology brings. And thus my question to you: How can one define technology as progress when it seems those that are at the top of their game, in fact, don't use it? I do not imply that it is regression, but simply put.. perhaps the reason why exams are still written on paper and not typed or selected on the computer, even in light of our current modernization and supposed race toward being an influential ever-changing global superpower, is the fact that it is the most direct way of communicating thoughts, feelings and ideas with little risk of misinterpretation, or maybe, JUST MAYBE, its something we do to hold on to something we instinctively know is good for us, but turn a blind eye to in the face of overwhelming social pressure into creating a mould for what progression is, with only the journey of being better in mind, and not actually about the greater good or the end in sight. It is merely for the sake of progressing, and personally, and today - very very personally, I feel that this very progression we all uptake with such enthusiasm is really just regression in the subtlest and most harmful form.

Wishlist

1) Financially-rutted students who require English tuition
2) A ceiling fan
3) Surgery for my sinus (its starting to bleed out a lot)
4) Better health
5) Someone to nerd out with
6) Assorted SAT materials

Standing on Glass

Someone made me realize how acutely and acridly arrogant I am. How uncompromising and foolish and selfish. And though it feels good to know what I can change to be better, for me, for everyone... I really just want to be able to be myself and happy. 2 things. But at times, it truly feels as if I can't hit rock bottom, for the simple reason that the pit in which I'm falling doesn't have an end.

The pedestal I stand on makes everyone look small, but in truth they are all collectively bigger than I. And this thing about being on a pedestal... You may be high up there, you may be soaring toward the sky, but really.

You're all alone.

Even though one may disagree...

It is easier to fight for principles than to live up to them.

It is easier to find fault in something obviously morally wrong, yet do it when you think no one's watching.

It is easier to be brave and loud than to step back and do nothing.

It is easy to point a finger
It is easy to shoot your mouth off
It is easy to be too trusting
It is easy to just not love

That's why it isn't easy to be me.

My Cryptic Pathogen

I can't believe it was today, today was a happy day, today was today.

And now
suddenly
its yesterday all over again.

Untitled As Apt

Shame on you for knowingly doing what you did. You know who you are. You know what I'm talking about. Planting your seeds of poison, knowing they will cause grief to any recipient. Shame on you for being so selfish. No one could have it if you didn't, right? No one could possibly get it. Especially not your friends. Oh, no. Especially not when you tried and failed. Or should I say, people you pretended and tricked into thinking were your friends. I hope you got what's coming to you. I hope you get it back tenfold. And by someone ten times as merciless as I. Because I'm happy now, and you can't take that away from me, and you deserve so much pain.

You know you do.

Karma or Something Like It

It doesn't have to hurt so much, but it does.

You and you and you.
Playing with my heart.
Like a discardable toy.
Something you pick up
Only when you have the time
Bruising it, cutting it
Crushing it

Everyday in the world hurts
the only happy times i have
are those spent daydreaming at the beach
with my girl friends
thinking of pet dolphins
named pinkie
and wishing to own a yatch
sailing away
far away
into nothing and everything
and forever.

CROCS

I don't understand how some people can hate their feet so much that they subject them to the sheer ugliness of crocs. I hate the fact I know that there are a few models out there. I hate the fact none of them look decent. CGI graphics which are fake look better than a pair of real crocs. Once I saw a woman with a nice pedicure wear crocs in the MRT. I moved to the next carriage because I'm sure she's schizophrenic and a serial killer by night. Words could not possibly describe the hate I have toward crocs.

RGBCMYK

Just wanna let the 64 people who read my blog know that.. I hate popart. The red and blue purple and yellow, green and black and brown with whatever color that does not belong the the rainbow of the powerpuff girls. POP ART SUCKS. Its the answer people use when they wanna mask the lack of creativity with an outrageous statement. Yeah at first with Mao, it was pretty cool. I almost respected it. Now? Its just a camwhore hiding her eyebags, an insecure man hiding a double chin, a girl who didnt get a tan, an anorexic taking the shine of her overexposed cheekbones.

My room is red and beige. Warm colors. Typical designer stuff. Not bright red and blue. Like the zouk card I received saying "commit no synths". BORING. Stop it already. Really. Its old.

My Super Duper Best Friend of All Time x Infinity x Eternity x 1000 million trillion dollars

Railing Away

Herein lies an inherent flaw in the Singapore subway system - The fact that handle bars are so high up. Also the fact that people with poor hygiene take this very subway. The problem with standing for more than half an hour in the train to go to work everyday is not about the fact I have to balance precociously on 4-inch heels while carrying a bag bigger than me, stuffed among too many people trying to do the same thing, and trying to look as cool as possible hoping that someone will take notice, approach me, then do business with me so that I can earn a hefty sum of commission, but its really more about the fact that I always end up perfectly levelled with an Indian man's armpit. I am not racist. Really. Its just coincidental that Chinese people talking irritates the hell out of me, Malay people walking does the same and Indians smell. This is of course a very vast generalization. But seriously. The Indian men I have stood beside have reeked of BO. The Indian women I have stood beside reek of that oil thing they put in their hair. Its so strong! And its not really the more pleasant smell. I know oil helps keep hair... smooth? But cant they use lavender oil or something. Seriously. SERIOUSLY. I have that man's BO stuck in my windpipe and I have to smoke to get it out.

A Cracked Mirror

Some people can be so beautiful both inside and out.

But usually if you're beautiful outside, you're amazingly ugly inside. Just like a certain someone I know. So beautiful. But so shallow and critical, judgmental and completely narrow-minded. And for those who aren't beautiful on the outside, they are not necessarily beautiful on the inside either. In fact, they could well be much uglier, because they want attention and power so, so much more.

All in all, opposites don't apply to this particular law. All I know is that there are some amazingly shrewd people out there, and no statistic can measure them to generalize and regurgitate a theory.

Pittance

I was feeling a little bit upset when i woke up this morn and in a trichotillomaniac fit i ripped off some skin near my fingernail and now i'm bleeding like the loser i am. Also this week, iDitz fell down the stairs once, got cut 3 times and bumped my head unknowingly somewhere somehow.

Please pity me and throw me your loose change.

Reflecting Panda Eyes

Yesterday I got called up by MediaCorp Studios for the position of assistant producer. Then the woman asked me to speak in Chinese. I said I was unable to and she shouted at me, "HAR?? YOU KNOW THIS JOB IS BILINGUAL ONE? MUST SPEAK CHINESE! YOU DON'T SPEAK CHINESE HOW TO TALK TO THE TALENT? ZHONG WEN!" Then I replied, "Well, I'm sorry I really can't...I didn't know it was for a Chinese Channel." She said," OHHH NEVERMIND OK BYE".

Don't know whether to laugh or cry. Sighness. So its my first week at my new job and I feel extremely happy at the office albeit the direct air-con is a bit disconcerting. I love everyone there (only the netiquette side)! They are so extremely friendly, even the supposedly cold maung naing aung. Happiness and hope that I'll live up to my own very big expectations.

I try to get absorbed in work and tire myself out. Because when I'm tired, I think much less. Everything goes quiet. And I finally get to rest.

Final Assault

I personally feel that mariah carey abuses people all over the world with her ridiculous range of octaves.

Call My Bluff

I sit tightrope-walking, tittering on the edge, struggling so hard to hold in the reins of my sanity. Drug or cut. OD or bleed. Or sleep. Or live. Or die. I hate that I can't be alone. That I'm so pathetic that I depend on people around me to survive. I'm struggling to just stay here, sane, in front of the stupid white screen, typing and just making sure I do nothing else.

I struggle to hold on to my sanity. Its like the wind in your hair. Sand through your fingers. You know its there. You just can't seem to grasp it and hold it close. It slips through. And there is really just nothing you can do; just let it flow. Let it flow. And hope everything turns out fine at the other end.

Caution

Beware the man who is weak. He is the most dangerous. Because he would do anything for a little tiny bit of power.