I cannot believe. That my mother is going to Indonesia for the holidays. Without me. I mean. Indonesia isn't exactly the place I would want to go for a holiday, and its not even a holiday. My mum's taking my grandmother - the one that I like - back to Jakarta to visit the sister before my grandma loses her memory. My grandmother has officially lost her ability to write. She used to write to my mum every month, but now her letters are incoherent and senseless: "Dear Sue. Buy take 3pm Panadol cake. Raining I for. Love. Mum"

It breaks my heart to read that particular letter, because I LOVE my Indonesian grandmother. She used to send us parcels of English treats that can't be found in Singapore, as well as these nightgowns - as hedious as they may be - to me which I always wear every night when she visits and she lights up. I liked hearing her read me stories to sleep and giving her lottery ticket numbers that she got at "the store near the tube(train)". Once when she came here, she got lost at the market and ended up walking around the Serangoon North Ave 1 for 3 hours. And we live at Avenue 4 - just 20 minutes away. And my mother and I seriously contemplated calling the police, because we were unable to fathom why my grandmother didn't call us on the handphone that my mother gave her before she left the house. Plus, there's this one particular conversation my mum and grandma had that totally stuck with me:

Mum: " Mee (short for Mummy), you've been coughing for quite a while huh?
Grandma: "Yeah. Think the food here is too spicy!"
Mum: "Are you having a flu? Do you feel giddy, or nauseous?
Grandma: "No."

(then leans in subtly)

Grandma :"But I'm really late."

My grandma is the best. I think my mother wet her pants laughing and was bent on calling Drew Carey to have that conversation featured on "Who's Line Is It Anyway" - that her menopausal mother was knocked up.

My grandmother's really a strong woman. Growing up in war torn Singapore in the 50s and 60s, leaving my Granddad who cheated on her, flying back to Singapore and raising her 2 babies alone in Singapore with 2 jobs. And now her back and bone will be lost to what I suspect to be ALzheimer's. So now she wants to visit her home before she might be too old to fly, and my mother will be going with her in case she forgets what flight she's on or where her passport is or what her name is. And she's leaving without me.

I mean seriously this is complete suicide. This means my DAD is in charge of all of us and bossing us around during the holidays. Last year when my mum was away for a day visiting her friends, his stupid traditional cheena relatives cames and he started bossing us around, telling us what to to, and how to put the cups, how to pour the stupid tea, where to put the biscuits. Like hello. He didn't even know where the stupid plates and cups are. Let alone turning on the microwave and the DVD player.

How can my mother do this to me?!?!?!?!?!?!? She's going to need to prepare funeral arrangements for her family when she gets back bcause I might just stab my sorry flaccid body and rot and decompose and my useless siblings won't even bother to clean the mess up. My dad would just look down at my body and hurl angry words and eventually walk away and call 911, to which by the time my heart might have stopped. My dog wouldn't even know what to do.

I've watched countless selfless animals on Animal Planet whose owners met with accidents at home, like slipping on that puddle of water and cracking their cranium, or drowning in their bathtubs and their dog or cat would howl or meow at the window for help until the neighbour would come to try and shut them up and find their neighbours' flaccid bodies on the ground. My dog? Yeah my dog stared then walked away to his bed when I slammed my head against the kitchen cabinet and sprawled on the floor for 5 minutes, whining and moaning in pain. My dog can be such a failure.

That's not the point. The point is. My dad is, what my mum calls "stuck up" She says its because he think he's all that because he went to Raffles Institution and has suffered a delusion of grandiosity and superiority from the years of high end academic drilling. Plus, my mum says he can be a pig. Which is somewhat true. He tried to teach me a lesson in swimming by attempting to drown me (in a "friendly harmless way - or so he says) in a public pool, and called me names that may have attributed to my disordered eating phase and low self esteem and distorted body image.

I can't be here with him for the festivities! He makes me talk to his cheena relatives who think I'm stupid because I'm not full Chinese. Apparently they think my siblings and I are "unclean" because their Chinese blood has been tainted when my father married into a Eurasian heritage.

Whatever. I'm part English. English people are posh because whatever they say, they sound like Shakspeare. I'm part Indonesian. I've naturally wavy hair and the whole bunch of you have fake fake fake unnatural wavy hair. Suck on that. Half bloods are cool. Harry Potter is half blood and he saves the world from Voldermort's domination and his forces of evil.

Maybe they've suffered radiation poisoning from the radioactive waves from the perming machine that have cooked their brains to bits. If not, why are they acting like a complete Malfoy?

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me be able to bring Bobby over to my granddad (the Chinese one)'s house so at least I can amuse myself and play with my sweet little pet who unwittingly hates my relatives too because they chase him around with the leash and when they manage to hook the leash onto him, they walk around the house, holding the leash and unrelenlessly tugging at him when he doesn't want to move along with them. This completly makes my mother, sister and I mad. How dare they do that to my boogah? Bobby is known by several names, either "Bobsie", "Bobsie Wobsie", "Pudding", "Puds", "Monkey Butt", or "Boogah" (: Terms of endearment.

Aaaargh I'm dreading the festivities. I hate Chinese holidays. I want to go tour Europe and America.

Reid is my new favourite funny man.

It seems that my outlandish goal to lose 5 kilgorams before my 20th birthday is becoming seemingly laughable now. Brisk walking is doing NOTHING so far and I hereby conclude that my sister's weighing scale is morally unsound. J says walking is only half the package. Nuitrition is another. Its funny when J told me that because when I first started walking, the weight came off easily. Maybe because I never exercised back then, but now its like I hit a plateau. Maybe my current weight is, my body's natural weight? Impossible. If my disordered eating phase last year made me lose so much weight (muscle mass, excuse me), then I'm sure if proper exercise, I can be at the same weight. BUT NOTHING'S WORKING. AAAARGH. I'm destined to be. A cow. Or a hippopotamus. Anything, but a skinny person.

Went back to O School for dance, both yesterday and Wednesday and it feels so good to be learning routines again, though I could still use some improvement. I decided to skip LA/Lyrical HH, but try my hand at Reggae. Reggae is. Insane, but Carol, the instructor is SICK. She's a tiny little thing but she owns the dancefloor. The isolations we did in class were so fast and intense, that my stomach hurts. But its a good pain, since it means I'm working muscles I hardly use. Plus, did butt exercises that I never knew I could pull off, but it was somewhat amusing performing the different butt exercises.

I admit I somewhat underestimated Reggae for a little bit, but coming to Carol's class has totally changed my perception on Reggae. It's just as hard hitting as any other genre and its insanely fun and really makes you move your body. As much as Reggae is fun, I think I might still preder Street Jazz. I'm still exploring, trying the different genres (except Contemporary for now), but at present, I'd say SJ would be a current favourite. I'd like to channel more energy into Contemporary now. Looking back at my disastrous journey in TPDE's jazz classes, I think I'm ready to take Contemporary a step further.

Dance tomorrow again! Before lessons stop for CNY celebrations. Then its MP to think about. And aargh. Uni applications. And bugger, losing that stupid 5kg before I turn 20. I've been obese my entire life. I'm going to change that. But its taking too long and not progressing!

I need results. Now.

Amazing (:

K was unusually nice today, considering I have always dubbed K as being insensitive and a brute in light of the nasty comment that was directed at me before the NAPFA test. Am still slightly suspicious. Maybe I really did lose weight.

Not.

Okay K told me I need to change my negative thinking.

Am fielding texts from prospective participants left and right, asking if they could take part in our experiment tomorrow. Its so not funny, considering how I do not have free outgoing texts and having to call people all night long. I missed Criminal Minds on television because of this! Watched S6 yesterday. AWESOME. WHEEEE my life is momentarily complete.

I need a new phone plan and new clothes

Was watching E Entertainment after coordinating the new participants and it was airing a Taylor Swift special. And my mum comes out and goes "Taylor Swift! Didn't she go out with Joe Jonas?"

My own mother knows the name of the boyfriend of a songstress than her own daughter's. She calls Derek "that black Darren boy."

I'll be in therapy for this for sure.

I still cannot possibly fathom how awesomely good looking D.M is. I won't hurt if if you don't try and stop me from raving about him (:

I have this brilliant plan, or dream.

That I'd fulfil all my dreams and goals. Without any one of you in it.

"The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn."

David Russell

I wonder if people actually understand that I make sacrifices just so they can attend to their own business.

I wonder if people actually appreciate the fact that I make sacrifices just so they can attend to their own business, or just so to support the "fact" that they happen to feel sick so whatever.

I wonder what they'd be like if I say "no" for once, and I wonder how it'd be if I tell them to go fuck themselves after that.

Because I am sick. And tired. Of my self sacrificial nature.

Bite me.

Its interesting to note that whenever I scan through my previous blog posts, I find more grammatical errors that I had anticipated to make. Talk about being grammatically anal.

According to A, I have a compulsive need to have every aspect of my life perfect.

I find this to be very true.

JA shares my love for Derek Morgan. You are an awesome chick <3

CSI: The Exhibition was rekindled my love for CSI, bringing back that familiar rush of adrenaline and joy whenever I tuned in to AXN to watch Dr. Gil Grissom and his intellectual one liners.

Had planned to meet J at Jurong East Station at 1pm, but J unwittingly made me wait for a half hour, leaving me stranded in the middle of the station, sporadically dotted with dodgy pervy-looking men which reminded me of the time I visited Bedok Food Centre with L with disgusting old men walking around like zombies and sitting at our table without our permission, leaving me utterly scandalized at the inherent lack of social manners and grace of the Singaporean men that work at and roam the food courts. I mean who the hell walks up to a table where two girls are happily eating, and suddenly come up and sit at our table as though he were part of the conversation? Gross pig.

Anyhow, J reached and we made our way to the Science Centre which also brought back memories of when we had excursions to the Centre in primary school. The exhibition was pretty much an interactive experience, though J said he found it a little boring after a while. I found it wicked fun, maybe because I'm more excited about CSI than J is.

We viewed a short video briefing conducted by Dr Gil Grissom (GRISSOM YOU ARE AWESOME) and we viewed 3 crime scenes and visually identified the evidence at the "crime scene" and had to draw em out on a sheet of paper given to us, with different columns and headings for various part of the forensic examination, such as "Entomology", "Firearms and Toolmarks", "Autopsy" and "Blood Splatter" segregated in different booths around the Annexe. Basically we were like CSI recruits and we analyze the evidence at the crime lab. So after we're done solving the crimes and determining the cause of death and who killed the victim, we were to submit our report to Grissom.

Overall it was cool, walking around the annexe and going to the different booths and working out DNA and looking at blood splatters and matching biologicals, but it was so EASY. Everything was really simple to work out and it was mentally stimulating for J and I. I suppose it'd be okay for small children, though I'd say it was an experience. Plus, it was a little crowded so it was annoying having to wait our turn at the booth. We were able to get some certificate of participation at the end of the exhibition, but we'd have to pay 8 bucks, so J and I decided against it and stalked on to get a CSI mug each. Was rather disappointed at the merchandise, for I was expecting notebooks and keychains and Horatio's sunglasses to be on sale. But NO. It was mostly science experiment toys for children. The only CSI stuff for sale were notepads, mousepads, wristbands, mugs and DVDs.

Pffft.

We were walking around for close to 3 hours and decided to grab a snack and catch up on talk. Unfortunately for J, by the time we left it was raining and we had to share my umbrella and all the way to the bus stop, I whined incessantly about my bag getting wet and my shoes getting soaked and the cars splashing water on me and my shorts getting wet. And all J had to say at the end of my sermon was "Guys do not care how your shoes look like, Serene."

Interesting.

I wish there a Criminal Minds exhibition. I'd be the first to purchase tickets.

And my books from opentrolly.com.sg arrived by mail today! HAHA and in pristine condition, may I add. Awesome possum.

According to my mother, being thin is ugly, and according to my mother, I look ugly when I wear a dress.

Why don't I just transform into a big pile of turd then, Mother? How ugly would I look then?

Now I truly know how all those girls feel; what they go through; how they think.

I should know.

I'm one of them.

Bugger.

eBay can be full of crap. I made a bid for this awesome item from Criminal Minds, but I never received any email notifications whatsoever to inform me of any additional bids made by anyone else, so when I logged in to see the item, I found that out the frickin bid had frickin ended, and they did not inform me one bit.

ERM HELLO, THEN WHY WAS I ASKED IF I WANTED TO RECEIVE EMAIL NOTIFICATIONS ON ANY CHANGES TO BIDS AND ITEM AVAILABILITY?

So I had to email the member and ask him he was still willing to sell it, but I have yet to get a reply from you. Bloody rip offs.

Anyhow, I was watching Criminal Minds on FOX Channel and I went screaming my head off when Derek appeared and my mum was, "Come and look at this photo of me." And I went "Photo of what?", though my eyes were still fixated on my boyfriend. So Mum went "Me. With my bicycle. Do I look old?"

Now the minute that I heard that, my heart stopped. One of the worst things that a woman can ask you, is whether she looks old or not. So I was like "Yeah you look young." But my Mum went "Come here and see it or I won't pay your Darren posters on eBay." Sheesh she didn't even get my boyfriend's name right. So I grudgingly tore myself away from the television and dragged my limp and tired body to her laptop and stared at the photo. She looked...okay? I mean its just a shot of her standing with a bike.

"Well?"

"The bike looks great."

"What about me?"

"Is this the Singapore River?"

"What about me?"

"Is that a duck next to you?"

"WHAT ABOUT ME?"

"Okay okay. Erm. Young. Yeah. Good. Genius."

"How old do you think I look?"

Oh for Christ's sake , if there's one thing my mother is fixated on, its her age, which I totally understand because every woman wants to look young, but she should know better than to ask me. Her own daughter. Her own flesh and blood. The rule of thumb here is that daughters tell their mothers the exact truth about how old they do think their mothers looks. Friends LIE, because they're almost the same age as them and by saying they look 50, they're implying that they look 50 as well. At least, that's what I think it is.

Anyway what am I supppsed to say? I was just thinking of an appropriate number to say. 45? Doesn't make a difference, and its too near the truth? And I can't say 35, because that's completely delusional. Okay. I'll say she looks 40.

"You look healthy and young."

God I am impossible. But honestly, Derek is on screen right now, and my posters and books are at stake, so why risk it? I'm not that dumb anyway. I should buy my mum a book on anti ageing. That'll keep her busy.

Bugger I feel dizzy and sick. Was practicing spotting just now and I feel like throwing my lunch up. Aaargh. Imma head to Kino soon. BOOKS.

Ugh I'm so drained. Spent hours working on editing and cropping and searching for pictures of faces and I swear everything seemed to fuzzy when I switched off my laptop.

Just returned from dance classes and I'd say it was pretty good, in spite of HH, when I sort of missed a few steps during the video session, but whatever. Its over and I'm kinda pleased with it for now.

NUS talk on Wednesday might have just hardened my resolve and determination to enter NUS, considering that NUS' research programs are majorly centred in clincal psychology - something which I'm very interested in. Will focus on MP right now and do the best so I stand a chance of entering, PLEASE LET ME GET IN OR I WOULD DIE.

My dad just entered the room and tossed NSMen magazine on my table. The cover is a photo of a guy in his early twenties posing on a motorcycle and my dad pointed at him and went, "This is what needs to be addressed by the next generation. Why are all these metrosexuals on these covers, and how all the young girls like you. And they feature all these homosexuals and all".

Now the worst part isn't him saying the word "metrosexual"; the worst is the way he actually pronounced it. My dear old man pronounces metrosexual as "metroseksual"

This is such a disgraceful embarrassment. Imma turn in early tonight. Been having trouble falling asleep recently. Migraine is coming back.

Serene: Mum, look! You can buy the Sands of Time dagger here on eBay!

Mum: Oh is it?

Serene: YEAH let's buy it so we can turn back time!

Mum: Really? We can turn back time?

Serene: YEAH come on let's buy it!

Mum: I'm not falling for that.

Serene: Or we can buy Dastan's headdress and we can pretend to be Prince Dastan. Or
Tamina's robes and headdress and we can be Princess Tamina!

Mum: Delusional.

Serene: OH we can buy the One Ring from the Lord of the Rings. Then I can put it on and
invisible! And Arwen's wedding dress then I can wear it and marry King Aragorn!

Mum: But -

Serene: LOOK. We can buy Neo, Trinity and Morpheus' sunglasses, put it on and
be transported to The Matrix!

Mum: I'm leaving

eBay is my new fantasy vessel now. Tee hee!

SUCCESS. Asked the mother if I could order stuff from eBay and proof of my love for Criminal Minds made her agree when I showed her my phone wallpaper. TEE HEE. Though I have to make a bid for one item, to which the bid ends on the 8th of Jan

NUS talk tomorrow. Aaargh. The subject of universities again. I shall attend the talks by NUS and NTU first before seeing whether my grades can get me into NUS/NTU.

Oh and I still want to lose weight, and no, I can never stop saying that. SO BITE ME

3 MORE DAYS

Okay so a weird thing happened today. Well, maybe to you its not weird, but it was relatively surprising for me. I arrived at O School at 6.20pm and needed to change into my sweatpants but the bloody toilet was taped off so I had to quickly head down to the next level to change.

So there I was, waiting for the bloody lift which was taking so frickin long, when Ryan came out and I turned and looked at him, and his face registered a look of surprise, and say hi. Now I was super shocked, because in my mind, I did not even think that Ryan would even bother to remember me, seeing as how all the O School instructors seem to remember and are really chummy with the excellent dancers. So imagine my shock when he acknowledged and I was like "oh hi"

Jeez.

Then during street jazz class, after warm-ups, I was putting my shoes back on and suddenly this voice next to me said "Haven't seen you in so long" So I whipped around and saw Jessica sitting on the floor, tugging her shoes on and looking at me. And again, I went "Jessica knows me?! I thought all the O School instructors speak only to the awesome dancer?" Maybe its because she's always in the class that I attend so we see each other.

Anyhow, so its been 2 weeks since I last danced, and I felt so stiff. I still cannot catch steps fast enough, considering that I only managed to get all the steps til the end of the session when Ryan broke us into groups and I got an opportunity to watch the other groups perform so I could clean my steps up. Watching the selected dancers make me realize that I really need to work on my hits. Like the selected dancers are so...sharp and controlled. And I'm so average. Plus, I was so upset with myself when we had to do pirouttes because I still cannot fucking do a nice proper turn. I mean what the HELL is wrong with me? Why can't I do a proper turn? I mean, I've been trying for so long, battling the sick feelings to my stomach every time I do that, you would think I'd have gotten it by now.

I hate myself.

Why is everyone improving but not me? WHY? I need some answers, people. It doesn't help that I'm out the ensemble and can't take part in GEMS6, because I chose to focus on studies rather than dance. SCREW YOU FY.

On a lighter note, SIP report is done and submitted. I just hope that I didn't plagarize or anything, I mean I remembered to paraphrase everything. If the plagarism machines marks me, I will DIE. Literally.

Mum just said I could have a piano teacher come to the house and teach me piano if I want to go beyond the basics, considering I'm not sure what the next steps are to improving. I can play a simple basic piece, but complicated ones freak me out. Then she had athe decency to remind me of how my last piano tutor threatened to jump from the 15th storey of her apartment at my hideous playing. I mean, give me a break I was only 7. Imagine what that kind of psychological and emotional damage that could have inflicted upon my then 7 year old naive mentality. Its no wonder I have low self esteem, because I think I'm not good enough.

OOH Criminal Minds is on FOX channel and my Derek has just tackled an unsub to his freaky feet. GO BABY <3

My List of Hottest Men to Ever Walk the Planet

1. Derek Morgan, from Criminal Minds

2. Jake Gyllenhaal

3. Michael Moscovitiz, from The Princess Diaries

4. Jack St Bride, from Salem Falls

5. Jesse Cardoza, from CSI Miami.

Did I mention that Derek Morgan is simply hot tamale? OMG I AM ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH HIM. BE MINE PLEASE.

Just printed a few piano sheets off the Internet. Was attempting to play Colors of the Wind this afternoon and my playing was so sporadic. Like a start and stop kind of thing. I can't seem to connect my fingers with the keynotes on the music sheet, and I can't switch fingers smoothly. Hence, the weird playing. But its a start, for I managed to play the entire piece with both hands.

I printed "Looking Through Your Eyes" and the main theme from Harry Potter to practice next. There doesn't seem to be any piano lessons near the community centre near my place so its Do-It-Yourself for the time being. Oh goodness and dance. Aaargh. Dance. I suppose I'm officially out of the ensemble, which sucks balls because it means my only means of training for performance is fucking shot. I mean, honestly, its either studies or dance. I can't give a 100% to studies because of dance, and yet I can't give a 100% to dance because of studies. And I'm always afraid that these 2 would clash. And I know they will clash, hence its either studies or dance. And I chose studies, because going to a reputable university is so MUCH important to be than being the best dancer there is.

But I also want to a be an awesome dancer. I'm just average now. Hell I still can't do a proper turn, and I've been at this for over a year. Something is wrong with me. Someone just shoot me and throw my mangled body down the drain, please because this is so much to bear. Universities, dance, piano, language, body image.

I should be on Oprah for this.

Say hello to my new wallpaper <3

The first day of 2011 was spent watching Sex & The City 2. Honestly this movie is SO much better than the first one, considering how the first movie was too sexually explicit for my liking. I absolutely cannot watch a sex scene with my mother, sister, or any other family member for that matter. Especially my dad because he might think I'm a pervy ass, which I am so not. Its just that I love Carrie and Samantha and Charlotte and Miranda and their chick exploits!

I don't believe in making new year resolutions, because they're meant to be broken anyway. I mean, come on, name ONE person who has ever made a resolution and stuck to them. Regardless, this year marks my final year in polytechnic and my dreams to go the States have been shot. But that doesn't mean I can still work there in the future! Like Singapore is so measly and tiny and boring!

My dad has been hounding me about university applications and this is pretty much making me stressed out (Pop, didn't you hear that stress can make one fat?!?!?!) and I'm freaked that I might not be able to enter a local university. Have heard so many weird claims about NTU and NUS from Dr Tan, like how you have to maintain at least a B grade in order to stay in NUS' Psychology program.

I'm not sure which is a better university to go to: NUS or NTU. Was checking the websites out and it seems that NTU has a better...social...environment? Like there are a lot of student communities going on, whereas NUS seems so...bare. Which might be better for me, since I'm such a nerd and probably would prioritize my studies above extracurricular activities, though I would want to continue with dance and Spanish lessons and piano lessons!

Yeah so this year I'm REALLY hoping. To enter a local university, like either NUS or NTU. To lose weight, because I really DO need, and want to lose weight. And improve my Spanish, piano and dance. Was thinking of going beyond my French basics. I understand some basic French conversation, but I know squat about its grammar and all.

And I should just get MP out the way.

Feeling peckish now. I WILL NOT EAT NOW. NOT AT THIS LAST HOUR.

I WILL NOT YIELD TO THE TEMPTATION OF BISCUITS AND CHOCOLATES IN THE FRIDGE.

Maybe I'll have an almond or two.

Oh sod it. I'm going to watch Criminal Minds.