I think its really easy for people to say that we should live life fearlessly, that we should be fearless to the point of poverty, to not have a care in the world about what others think of our actions, to live in the moment and stop taking calculated risks and weighing the pros and cons and just live in the fudging moment for once, because isn't that what life is about?

I always thought life is about the choices we make, and how we come to accept and live with those choices. But recently, I've been thinking that life may also be about assumptions. We make an assumption about life and if it doesn't work, we initiate our second assumption. I mean of course our assumptions can't be ridiculous ones, like "I assume gambling cures depression" or "I assume alcohol cures boils " or some other stupid shit like that.

I had a long and somewhat gratifiying talk with K that left me in a state of hot muffled tears. I didn't think he'd know I was crying, considering how he was doing much of the talking when I desperately texted him for advice. Then he suddenly went "And by the way, why are you crying?" And I just burst out laughing at his candidness and that trace of amusement in his heartening and caring voice, despite the fact that he always unconsciously (or so he claims) insults me.

It was a refreshing change to talk to K about my frustrations and deep worries. So far, those I've been talking to have listed off a series of facts and figures, the "on-the-surface" information that I needed to know about each of my choices and telling me they'd be sure I'd do good. Except for one who was all "fearless to the point of poverty". And I'm like "thanks a heap y'all".

I listed all my fears and worries and issues to K and he took it all in seriously and finally came to a conclusion that the reason why I'm choosing NU over NT is because I fear being judged. NU is perceived as a powerful institute of education in Singapore, and prestige is always associated with this acronym, yet with NT, it's like, the "rebound" one, though it obviously isn't.

The truth is, I'm someone who wants it all. I want to be seen by others as successful and powerful, and being in NU would probably give me that. But K offered that I should make a decision based on not what others perceive, but on what works best for you. I don't want to go to NT, because I fear that people will see me as taking the chicken-shit way out, but if I make it past all those hurdles, people will herald me as being incredibly driven. Both these motivations are driven by what others think. But K and Ksh reminded me that this should not be the case. I strongly believe that in order to reach the top of my pinnacle, pride and ego must sometimes be shed. Yes, the cost may be unbearable, but it is those that go through this humiliation and pain that emerge as winners. I sacrified dance just to get my current GPA. I'm not about to throw that away because I want to please others.

NU has always, always be my first choice. But now I see the risks that I've to go through and I'm starting to worry and doubt. Yes, we should live life fearlessly, but I cannot live life fearlessly with these big risks. The stakes, are high. I'mnot going to say that they're extremely high. I'm just going to say its high, because as opposed to NT. They are high.

The answer is "yes, I will work psychotically hard in NU, but if I do so and get pass the hurdles and the school ends up shifting the Honors criteria higher and higher, it will be a waste. A truly dreadful waste." Yes, life is about living fearlessly, but what the fuck good will it do, if I don't get an Honors?

I don't know. This week has been an emotional rollercoaster. I cried in front of my mother for the first time. I can't make this decision alone. I honestly, honest to God, and Allah, and Vishnu, and whoever, that I cannot make this decision alone.

I've still got 1 month to think through this. Its so emotionally wrecking.

Of course besides breaking down over this worrying issue, I've had baking to take my mind off things. So far, I've made Chocolate Chip Cookies, Peanut Butter Cookies, Mini Vanilla Cupcakes, Mini Vanilla Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting, Vanilla Cupcakes with Lemon Glaze, Mini Chocolate Cupcakes, Cream Cheese and Jelly Cookies and Matcha Green Tea Cupcakes.

My favourite part of baking is watching the ingredients beating furiously in my stand mixer and being churned into thick wet liquid and subsequently licking my batter-laden fingers and swooning over the sweet (not that sweet, because I'm neurotic about getting diabetes) tangy taste of cookie batter.

Went to Arab Street and Haji Lane for the 1st time yesterday with Zee and SY for Middle Eastern cuisine. I've always wanted to try hummus because I'm always reading about it in my Jean Sasson books, who writes about the oppression of women in the Middle East - and how Adam Sandler basically eats everything with hummus on it in Don't Mess with the Zohar. Hummus is actually pretty delicious. It has a slight slight slight sour tangy taste to it which doesn't linger like Tom Yum does. Plus, it tastes awesome with arabic bread.

Maybe I could try making hummus in my own kitchen. I just got to buy chickpeas right? And maybe a blender or something, I mean isn't that what hummus is? Mashed chickpeas? I'd be damned if I don't send myself to the poison department in the hopsital after making hummus.

DANCE LATER. Gin is replacing Allegra and the hell I am going. I intend to dance as much as I can before 3 to 4 years of psychoticism (is that even a word) shrouds over me and suffocates me til I shrivel like a dried up piece of fruit. And I won't get a chance to go to New York and meet a successful handsome Caucasian man and have blue eyed babies and I'll die an old spinster with 86 cats and CSI will come and investigate and Gil Grissom would dust my body for prints and D Robbins would cut me open and conclude that I choked on cat food and then I'll be strapped with a toe tag labeled "old codger" and be stuffed in cold body locker, awaiting the final episode of life where I can decompose and the remnants of my remains will sit there on the tray like items dropped from someone's pockets. Alone and miserable, the legacy of one who had given up her life for her passion.