Call me prejudiced, because I don't give a fuck if you want me to be accepting.

It's my dumb rotten luck to be rooming with someone whom I don't know at all, especially now based on what I've experienced over the past 2 days.

Thanks a lot people.

theboywholivesinusforever

Harry Potter, you have given me the most imginative and wildest memories I ever had growing up.

It will never end.

It's amazing how a phone call and a nice long cold shower, complete with ultimate face and body pampering, can do wonders for the mind and soul.

So I bet you're wondering what the previous outburst was for about, right blogger? Well. I was. I was doing some reading online and came across this article on a bulimic girl who was giving a talk about her illness to her church members, and she spoke about how she was an exercise bulimic. So naturally I googled it, and the more I read, the more I realized how much it made sense, in terms of what I've been going through. The symptoms, I mean. I'm not going to type it out here, because it's painful enough having to read it the first time round.

Then it hit me. That I may be suffering from what is called "exercise bulimia". Of course its not a definite diagnosis, given I've diagnosed myself with polycystic ovarion syndrome before, but this one is different.

Well I just snapped. And started crying. Not sobs. But huge "tears flowing nonstop" wails til my jaw hurt, for some strange reason. Then I figured that right there and then, I had to talk to someone. I needed to talk to someone.

So I grabbed the portable house phone and shut myself in my room and started calling some friends whom I thought I could talk to. But no one answered. Literally. I think I must have called like 5 or 6 friends, hoping to just release a floodgate. No one answered my silent call of distress. Maybe it was because my house number is an unlisted one, but right there and then, I felt so truly alone. And let me tell you something, its not a pretty feeling. I don't wish that on anyone - what I felt when no one answered my calls. It was like, the world had exploded around me, like a deserted warzone to which I am the only survivor.

I didn't what to do, or what I should do. Sort of like how Jennifer Connely threw her glass of water at the mirror in A Beautiful Mind when she realized that John Nash's schizophrenia was straining their marriage and after months and months of silent suffering, she just snapped and cried because she doesn't know what else she has to do to make things right.

So I just threw down the phone and sobbed nonstop for another 5 minutes or so, reflecting on, well, what a disgusting person I am for what I had done (of which I shall not go into detail).

Then I realized I forgot to call Kesh. And thankfully, she was there. And the moment I opened my mouth and started telling her my story, I started sobbing all over again, with my words coming out in choked spasms. I was so ashamed of myself for admitting this disgusting behavior of mine. My disorder, I mean. But I needed to tell someone.

Thank God for Kesh. Because Kesh just listened silently and patiently as I tried in vain to explain my situation, despite the constant choking and hiccups. And then she said the magic words "Would you like me to pray for you?"

And I just whispered, "Yes, please.", because at the point of time, all I could think of was how much I wanted someone to take this terrible burden off my shoulders just for a few moments, and who better to do that than God Himself?

So Kesh prayed for me and I just lay on the bed with my palms raised, imagining that God was coming down and sucking out all the negative emotions and healing me mentally, spiritually and emotionally. It may sound silly to you, but I'm crying all over again as I related this to you. Maybe you understand where I'm coming from, but I don't expect you to, because you've never had to fully battle with your self esteem and body image for 4 years. The struggle of having to maintain a confident and strong face whilst deep down inside, I'm already broken into so many pieces, it'll take a long time just to put half of me together all over again and let the scars of the cracks fade. So you see, I'm not a strong person at all. I'm suffering. And let you tell you something, its so incredibly simple for someone to just say "Don't do this." Well don't you think I know that?! I try! I try damn it. I'm doing it. And it backfires. And yes, I get up and go again and succeed. Setbacks occur. I accept that. Sometimes I get through some setbacks, but when I don't, this is what happens. I crumble.

Anyhow, Kesh prayed for me. And I just felt better after that. Not fully, but much calmer and reposed as before, when I was so emotionally distressed. I think that there comes when a time when people like me simply turn to religion to help them ease their worries when everything seems to be too much to handle. Maybe it won't solve the problem, but the knowledge that their burdens are place on someone'e else shoulders - one who won't judge or complain - for even a mere 5 minutes, is enough to make them more at ease and composed.

I suspect that there isn't anyone else who understands the full extent of my...problems as much as Kesh does. Sure she may use religion to advice me, but you know what, it makes me feel so much better. And I'm so thankful that she's there for me, thankful that God put her here for me to turn to when my life comes crashing down. Kesh might very well be my own pastor!

So after our talk, I went on the treadmill for a bit to ease my anxiety, and took a long shower, with compliments of luxurious body scrubs of the Dead Sea that my dad brought back when he was on a business trip to the Middle East. So I lathered my entire body with sea salt scrub and imagined that I was scrubbing away all my anxieties and worries. Then I slapped on a facial mask and watched my all time favourite re-runs of The Nanny.

Like I said, it amazing how much luxurious pampering can do for you. I should do this more often.

Did I mention that I'm finding Selena Gomez's Love You Like a Love Song is getting to be quite addictive? And Taylor Swift's Haunted. The first half anyway. And Kesha's Sleazy, but maybe its because its the audition song for Street Jazz and its now ingrained in my head.

I wonder if I'll ever recover. I texted my mother about one of the symptoms I've been having. Well, its been bothering me for a while and she knows about it. But she says if its bugs me, she'll accompany me to our family doctor. And I felt so relieved to know that she was chastising me. As much as I'm frightened of what my mother might think of me if she were to know I might be an exercise bulimic, I still want her with me because she always makes things right for me, irregardless of what she does.

I seriously don't know what to do anymore.

I think I'm killing myself. Literally. Not with a knife, or whatever, but whatever I'm doing now. I think my body is dying. And I don't know what to do, or how to deal with things.

I feel so ashamed to talk to someone. I seriously don't know what to do.

I don;t know if I have a disorder, or if its a physiological phase. I don't know what to think.

A huge part of me wishes I could tell my mother everything that's hurting me. But I know I can't, because she'll get mad.

http://www.your-bulimia-recovery.com/exercise-bulimia.html

I wonder if my mother is on the verge of expriencing the empty nest syndrome with her second child. Not that I'm moving out permanently or that all of her children are leaving home for good, but this past week has been rather dream -ike for me, and I have to pinch myself in the arm and go "Is this really happening?"

My mother and I have been spending much more time with each other this past week, due to the fact that we're busy getting the necessities for dorm and all. We've been heading out to town quite frequently and shopping. Thank God for that. Going out I mean. Because I just cannot stay home all the time and do nothing, because I'm born to move. I'm sorry but I cannot so go ahead and sue me. Sure I could read, but I cannot sit on my butt for hours at a time. Anyway, it isn't the shopping that excites me, but the time that we spend with each other makes me feel like God is giving me chance to reevelop my relationship with my mother and casting aisde the very rocky and turbulent one we had when I was growing up. I feel so much closer to my mother this past week than I ever did when I was younger.

Take today, for instance, we went shopping for facial cleansers today and we spent like 7 hours walking around town and getting our hands smeared with samples of face creams and lotions and scrubs and gossiping over the poor linguistic abilities of the salesladies and marvelling at the brilliance of the Shu Umera sales representative who just had to take one look at our face without touching it and telling us what our skin types were, followed by a dinner of prawn noodle soup together.

I suppose the most enriching moment was when she reached out and held my hand as we strolled across the breezy streets of Orchard Roads and I felt like I was 7 years old again.

Funny how time changes the dynamics of my relationship with my mother. Previously, my mother was the main motivation behind my cuts. And now here we are bonding with each other without anymore fights and cursing and swearing and how I had been so jealous of girls who treat their mothers like their best friends.

Right. So on a more serious note, I've looked through the HSS Freshman Guidebook regarding the subjects and I think I've pretty much figured it out. I think. I just need to pick 2 GER-PEs for Semester 1 right? Right? At least, I hope I'm right. Maybe I'll make some distress calls to other people and check with them, just in case I'm being a silly douche and messing everything up.

9 more days.

Call me a hypochondriac, but I think I may have hypothalamic amenorrhoea.

Go figure, because I'm having a panic attack.

5 Most Heartbreaking Moments in Filmmaking History (according to me anyway, but whatever)

1. When Danny leapt in front of Rafe just as the Japanese soldiers were about to fire at Rafe as Rafe realized that he was out of bullets, and Danny took said bullets for his best friend, and then Danny chokes out that he wasn't going to make it, and Danny rebutes that claims and Rafe then says that he felt cold and requested that someone else, other than Rafe, write his name on his tombstone, and Rafe, in a bid to save Danny, tells Danny that Danny's was going to be a father, and Dannylooks Rafe in the eye and says "No, you are", then dies in his best friend's arm, followed by Rafe's heartbreaking sobs of pain and anguish (Pearl Harbour)

2. When Rose, accompanied by the movie's theme song, realizes that Jack is frozen dead in the icy waters just as the lifeboat - comandeered by Ioan Gruffuld who plays hot Lancelot in King Arthur - comes searching for survivors (Titanic)

3. When Red knelt down in front of Betty's coffin and trying his best not to break down as he mourns the loss of his fiance (Pearl Harbour).

4. Any scene in which the Germans mercilessly slaughter the Jews, or basically the entire movie (The Pianist)

5. When King Kong brings Ann Darrow to safety on the summit of the Empire State Building, only to be attacked by bouts of gunfire from the airplanes, then gazes faithfully during his throes of death at a very distressed Ann Darrow before falling to his death (King Kong)

Why must everything be centred around death?

I swear Pearl Harbour is one of the most excellent movies to ever be made in entire history. Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer are geniuses.

Is it me, or are many people that I know headed overseas to study?

10 more minutes. I can't take the suspense. Pear Harbour is not doing a good job at distracting me from the anticipation. Maybe it won't be up at 12am.

I shall bake a batch of chocolate brownies and a whole cheesecake for my family - an excuse to resurrect my oven - before school starts. Oh and also when my beloved Grandma visits from London in August (:

I spent the rest of my morning after breakfast reading the last few chapters of Good Wives. My favourite bit of the book is the very last sentence of the very last chapter. Though I don't think I will ever continue reading the sequels, Little Men and Jo's Boys. I've crossed my threshold of patience for classics. I must say this is the very first time I have actually completed reading a proper and unabridged classic romantic.

Am reading David Baldacci's Absolute Power now, about a professional burlgar who witnesses a murder whilst in the middle of a burglary and is now on the run from the President and his pack of Secret Service agents.

Anyhow, I went to the Scholarship and Top University Fair at Suntec City. It featured lots of booths from the different Ivy Leagues, mostly from the Americas and a handful from Germany and the UK manned mostly by local Singaporean students who went to these universities and are here to promote their schools. They were accompanied by a smattering of Caucasian students and I noticed that these Caucasians were not only all male, but also good looking as well. It's a marketing ploy for sure. But a very good one.

I developed an oddly jealous feeling at the mere sight of these lucky Singaporeans who have gone abroad to study, because they receive the education of a lifetime and meet so many people from different racial and cultural backgrounds. It seems like a cruel joke when I look back at my dreams and aspirations, one of which was to study as an undergraduate in Stanford University. That dreams seems so laughable and silly now. It just makes me wonder if I ever will achieve my dream of going to the Americas to study and/or work.

Was looking through my drawer after completing Good Wives when I came across my old treasure box that I kept from childhood. Its basically an old metal box where I stashed secret notes that were passed during classes and birthday and holiday cards and friends - back when we didn't have handphones whatsoever - and other paraphernalia acquired through the years, for instance:

- a scrap of paper that has Daniel Ong's - the ex deejay turned events organizer whom I served Waffle Ice Cream at Bakerzin last month - autograph on it from days of the first Singapore Idol, which must have been in 2004.
- ticket stubs to the Lord of the Rings Exhibition in 2004
- neoprints from my secondary school days (dammit I look fat)
- a black and white photo of myself when I was 6 years old
- a pair of red g-string that 2 friends gave to me as a birthday gift (i hid the scandalizing article in my drawer because my mother will pass out if she ever sees her daughter with sexy underwear such as this)
- a whole stash of notes that were passed during my primary school days, ranging from topics such as get-togethers at houses, boys and gossip
- christmas cards from my primary school friends
- a letter written by a primary school friend who had a crush on me
- my very priceless and irreplacable birthday cards that I receive from my grandma in London every year since I was 6 years old.
- an Iraqi banknote of 250 dinars that I got from my tuition teacher (you can't get this type of money here in Singapore, unless you go to Iraq because no one here travels to Iraq anymore.
- a handsewn ragdoll of Aragorn that I received a a birthday gift 4 years ago. Thanks Dan!

I also discovered a letter that I wrote 8 years ago. Its a handwritten letter, written by my then 12-year-old self, accompanied with a picture of myself and a newspaper cut out picture of Emma Watson. Apparently I had written fan mail to her, but never did send it because I didn't have Emma Watson'a address:

"TO: MISS EMMA WATSON!!!
FROM: Serene...A fan of "Hermione Granger & Emma Watson =-D

To: Miss Emma Watson,

my name is Serene Juan from SIngapore. I am 12 years old and a really great fan of Harry Potter. I saw Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets on 19 November and it was totally awesome!!! You acted really great. Actually, I wanted to write this letter 2 U because I just HAD 2 comment U on your talent of acting. You were scintillating & outstanding. I'm looking forward to see Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban. When Mr Daniel Radcliffe who acted as Harry Potter hugged U & Hagrid, it moved my heart, and I nearly cried. Also, I think that your tips 4 writing 2 other actors and actresss R totally cool. They reall taught me quite a lot. Thank You! =D Well it has been indeed a great euphoria writing 2 U. I've 2 go have my lunch now.

Bye Bye.

(P.S. May I have an autograph from U please? If you R willin 2, please sign in on the picture of U cause that is my favorite. Also, there is a photo of me when I was 9. I don't have a photo of my when I'm 12! Also, hope that the other envelope 4 U 2 reply is not tatty!!!! I hope it isn't)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!

From a fan of you, Serene Juan"

Okay, I've got a question: what the fuck does scintillating mean? It seems I developed grandiose ideas of superiority at such a young age, judging by how I had used big fancy words in an attempt to please people. I must have been an ass-kisser. Seriously. It amuses me to see how my language has developed throughout the years. I laughed out loud as I read how I had to go and have lunch. Such memories.

If my apartment were burning and I could only save one item, I'd save this treasure box because all these cherished memories collected over the years are worth much more to me than a book.

Okay so maybe I could fit a book in my treasure box as well.

I had half lived a life of abject poverty yesterday when the house was stripped of electricity to the kitchen, kitchen bathroom and the living room fan. Not to mention access to the Internet because when the repairman for the air-conditioner came by to fix the dratty contraption in the master bedroom, the wires were yanked, pulled and tangled and I was unable to put two and two together.

It was all right without the Internt, considering I was stripped of Internet while in Adelaide most of the time, but no eletricity to the kitchen bathroom? That's bloody scary. I scrounged in the store room for the box of candles I remember having, but I couldn't find them, so I ended up lighting the very few aromatherapy candles that my mum got for free and put them in the bathroom, along with the torchlight, and bathed in the eerie flickering lights. I kept thinking of those horror movies where some freak ghost would just pop out from behind me and maul me to death.

Did I mention how much I detest holidays?

Especially disgustingly long breaks like the one I'm having now, with absolutely nothing to do. I know it may sound crazy to others, but I miss school. It keeps me busy and stimulated.

2 more weeks til school, and I've got the next 3 years to find out if I've made the right decision.

I'm dreading Wednesday.

Oh, and I managed to check my timing for the Race Against Cancer Run before the Internet died on me:

I just realized that my race bib number matches the last 4 numbers of my matriculation number. Well, not in the exact order, but they're the exact same numbers: 0523.

Funny how some things in this world turn out to be.

My dad once told me that a woman is like a flower with 5 petals, and those 5 petals represent each significant stage of a woman's life: birth, menstruation, childbirth, menopause, and death.

I've no idea why I'm telling you this, but I suppose this sketch just suddenly reminded me it.

This entire on campus vs. off campus shit is so fraught with uncertainties, that it's so not fucking funny. What am I supposed to do?!

Isn't it terribly inconvenient if I rent a room AND live on campus, and then moving back and forth between the 2 of them? It doesn't make any financial sense either, unless the rented room is like 5 minutes away from NTU. Obviously I found one that's 5 minutes away, but so have other people and I think they've been trying to get in touch with the advertiser. I can only deduce that they have failed to do so, because the advertisement is still on, otherwise, it won't be there if its been rented out.

And then I've also found another one who's responded to me very quickly, but its half an hour away from NTU. That's quite...long, isn't it? Aaaargh. I hate this. Maybe I should just forget about living on campus and rent a room entirely. I mean, I haven't paid the hostel fees yet, so technically they can't sue me or anything right? But 30 minutes is sort of far isn't it? Their profile seems pretty decent too. There are 3 people living in the 3 room flat now, but one is shifting out and they need a flatmate. Plus, they're NTU students as well. When I tearfully relayed my situation to him, he says it's better if I choose one instead of having both, because it'll be terrible inconvenient if I stay in a dorm one day, and back to a room the other day.

Why is my life so fraught with complications?

So that's three mitigating factors - inconvenience, instability of study environment and distance.

I texted K as well. Maybe K can offer me some much needed advice. K's helped me see things s lot clearer whenever I come crying (literally) for help.

Why couldn't NTU have offered single dorms for freshmen! So this is why freshmen are guaranteed a spot to stay on campus. They make us share a room. Crafty bitches.

I wish my mum were heeeeeere! Why is it that she's always out when I'm in the middle of something as big and mentally distressing as this? Life is completely unfair. I've sent an email to an ex-teacher of mine, seeking advice. Maybe I should send it to another few teachers and gather their opinions and counsel me on my nerve-wrecked situation. I'm going to hound my mother about this when she gets back. She's off at the brother's school for her parent volunteer work. WAIT. I'll text her now. HAH.

Dad says it'll be good to stay on campus and make social connections, but when I spoke to K two nights ago, K said to get my priorities right.

Mum called back. I don't think she understands my perspective on the "moving from dorm to rented room" situation. I think we want the best of both worlds, but the problem is that I'm the one taking the risk. Not her.

Like I said, why is my life so fraught with complications? Right now, the only solution out of this mess would be to have the rooms be too far away, or with dratty landlords for me to have no choice but to resign to my fate to have to live in a dorm and slug it out.

But I can never slug it out! I need my own personal space! OH MY GOD WHY AM I SUCH A DICKIE BIRD RIGHT NOW? Okay I need to stop checking the site for updates on room rentals. I collaborated with someone who'll be an exchange student in NTU for the next 6 months. Apparently he's looking for a place to stay and we've sort of agreed to keep a lookout for one another.

Oh and I just watched the latest X-Men on Mum's laptop. Friggin awesome! Now I know why Professor X is crippled. And Magneto was HOT when he was a young man. And now I know why Hank McCoy is all big and blue and covered with hair. But I wonder whatever happened to the rest of the mutants who were with Professor X and Magneto. Like Alex, who can create these red fiery waves, or Angel - the girl with the wings - or the one who can scream and fly. Basically, they were the first mutants to be recruited by Magneto and Professor X before Magneto had Charles become a handicapped man, and decided that he and Charles wanted different goals for the race of mutants.

Okay Mum has texted back to say she'll look at her map to see of the half an hour place is too far or not. Like I said, maybe what's best is that it turns out to be unsuitable. I seriously don't know. This is something that for once, I say I cannot control, even though I want to. Why, because I don't have a friggin clue what to do.

What was I saying? Oh. So. Yeah X Men: First Class was awesome. Much better than X Men: Origins. I don't care if Wolverine has a psychotic brother. Its weird to see James McAvoy play Charles Xavier in the movie, because I'm half expecting the camera to pan downwards and I'll end up seeing a pair of hoofs instead of feet, and with him clutching a frilly umbrella and offering to take me for tea in his abode and end up putting me to sleep with his Duduk and waking up only to find out he ratted me out to the Witch of Narnia.

Anyhow, I like it when he says the word "sexy". Shiver me timbers. I'm going to imdb.com to see who plays Eric/Magneto. I bet you my savings he isn't American Caucasian. He's definetely European Caucasian. He has European features. I should know. I've spent 6 years of my life looking at good looking European men to be able to differentiate between Americans and Europeans. Plus, Sebastian Shaw looks strangely like that the actor who played Hollow Man, the movie where this whacko scientist creates some sort of a serum to make things invisible and so he injects it into himself when some major company refuses to buy it and goes around killing people like he's wearing an Invisibility Cloak. Only he has no wand. But he did lock down the entire facility and killed his colleagues with his bare hands who helped him develop the serum. I watched it when I was probably 12 and it gave me nightmares for weeks, because I kept hallucinating that there's an invisible man in my room. And Moira McTaggert, the CIA agent who helps Professor X looks just like Briseis, who plays sexy Brad Pitt's lover in Troy. I can't be sure. As I was watching this, Mum kept asking why I keep shrieking at the most sporadic periods of time.

S: Because someone wants to kill the X-Men! What's wrong with you, Ma?

M: Who wants to kill the X-Men?

S: The bad guy! Duh!

M: Who's the bad guy?

S: Hollow Man!

M: You mean the invisible guy?

S: Yes

M: How do you its him if he's invisible?

Why does my mum go wacko at the most sporadic times?

I must say its terribly uncomfortable typing on my Mum's Macbook. There aren't those 2 left and right buttons near the mousepad.

Ooh I was right. Kevin Bacon plays the bad guy. And Rose Bryne plays Moira. It says here that Taylor Lautner was originally cast as Hank McCoy / Beast but dropped out due to scheduling conflicts. It would have been fun to see him as a blue furry beast. He's played a werewolf so he should feel right at home. Ooh and Michael Fassbender plays Eric/Magneto. I knew it. He's German! Well Germa-Irish. But he's hot.

I think I've finally found out where my obsession of Caucasian people come from. My dad. We were discussing this accommodation situation (though he doesn't know the full extent of my anxiety) and how he did really well in the Canadian University he went to despite living with a roommate for 3 years, so if he can do it, I can do it. Then he went to describe the university he went to and said that it was in Canada that he met his first "woman I got involved with". According to my dad, my mum's the 4th woman he's gotten involved with.

So he went on to tell me about how his first girlfriend was a Hungarian girl called Agness Kiss, and how he got into "an international love triangle" (his phrase, not mine) with another Greek guy who also had the hots for her. Turns out she went out with this Greek guy first, but ditched him for my dad and then the Greek guy started stalking them on their dates til my dad threatened to hit him if he continued following them around, because he was assigned to the commando unit or something when he was in National Service.

D: We were in this international love triangle. A Chinese guy, a Greek guy and a Hungarian girl. Initially, she liked him, but then she went with me and he started following us everywhere until I said not to play around with us because I was trained as a commando when I did my military training in Singapore."

S: So, she liked the Greek guy, and ditched him for you?

D: Yeah.

S: You mean like how Lily actually liked Snape, but then found out what a toadie he was before deciding to go out with James Potter?

D: What?

S: Erm, never mind.

Why am I such a psycho?

Exactly 19 more days until I become a university student. I'm filled with a mixture of vast excitement and equal amounts of nervousness and worry.

Great. Now my calves ache from not stretching properly after yesterday's run.

I spent the afternoon watching Transformers: Dark of the Moon at Shaw Theatre at NEX. Joe was right. The effects were bloody awesome. I was cringing in my seat all the way because I was completely psyched about how Steven actually created the visual effects for the robots.

A Caucasian girl sat next to me and she was eating out of this vat of buttered popcorn and it smells so friggin good. Now that I mention her, Joe is entirely wrong about people watching movies alone at the cinema. The Caucasian girl watched the movie alone too. So did I. And about 3 other people whom I saw were sitting by themselves. How unfortunate that the social stigma attached to us people who are comfortable who saying "one ticket for so-and-s0 movie" is that of a loner with a lack of friends. I say that the mass population are simply too scared.

Anyhow, Transformers 3 felt a little too long. 2 and half hours! Bejesus. I was desperate for the loo. But the action and violence and effects of the movie was just too awesome. Its fun watching a movie that has hot soldier guys with tight arms and straddling guns, covered with muck, sweat and blood.

I cried when Bumblebee was about to get blown up by the Decepticon, and how he looked at Shia one last time. Well, of course Bumblebee won't die! Of course something good will happen and he will be saved in a nick of time! Bejesus.

Oh, and the Rosie Huntington was completely useless in this movie. All she did was show her impossibly long gams and impossibly lithe figure off and scream for Mother Mary for Sam to rescue her. Yes, she's a model. Yes, she's a skinny bitch. Yes, she has a figure that only a female alienoid could have. PISH POSH. Though I must say its a slightly refreshing change to have a blonde female lead, as opposed to Megan Fox, though I felt her British accent isn't as crisp as I'd like it to be.

Regardless, this movie was considerably better than the second sequel.

Did I mention one of my favourite parts of watching a movie at the cinema is the preview of the trailers? Watching trailers in the darkened cinema is so different from watching trailers at home on Youtube. Captain America looks appealing, so does Cowboys and Aliens. I'm so watching these two. And Harry Potter 7, but only during the second or third week when the crowds die down.

All right. One of the issues that has been hounding me for the past couple of days has finally been settled. Now all I have to do is review my options about this other issue that's been troubling me. I feel guilty for putting my mother through so much time and trouble.

Sometimes I completely detest myself.

Aaaargh. I wish I could just talk to anyone about this. Okay maybe I've been telling a few people about this for far too long and too many times. But. I'm feeling really conflicted. I need someone to talk sense to me. About camp, and apartments, and dorms.

I just thought that if I live off campus, I will become socially incapacitated. Why is NTU giving me so many problems right now? Why can't we have single rooms? It'll be so much easier for me!

Am wondering if this is what's it like, to be to in the cusp of adulthood. I've not even started school and yet I'm faced with such challenging (though insignificant) decisions to make.

First would be the whole dorm room vs. rental fiasco. Its either I stay on campus and rent a room near school in case I seriously am unable to study in the dorm room, and rent an apartment near school when I get ceremoniously kicked out from the Halls from not taking part in the activities, OR, I stay on campus first, and rent an apartment and live in the apartment when my mum and I manage to find a suitable one.

If I live in the apartment, it'll get pretty lonely I suppose. I'll be disconnected from my school's social environment and I'll be branded as an outcast.

Then, I've to decide if I want to go for camp. Aaaaargh. Why can't school just start already? Seriously, these decisions are so...stressful for me. I know that people have signed up but were unable to get a spot here because there weren't enough vacancies. I'm such an ungrateful twat. Seriously. I ought to shoot myself.

I know its unusual for me to be saying this, but I wish my mum were here to advice me. How could she be in East Coast right now when I'm in the middle of such life-changing and important and stressful decisions?!

Race Against Cancer Run 2011

Yes, another run. And I might go back on my word, but I possibly might never want to do another run like this again. Of course 10km and 12km seem like a small pie in the sky as compared to real runs, like 42km and 100km, but hey, we all can't be marathon runners.

Joe and I signed up for the competitive 10km run. It was either this or 15km. Thank God I decided not to sign us up for the 15km one. Today's 10km was tough itself. The 10km run started at 7.45am, so I had to get up at 5.30am in the morning, which is completely insane. I mean who runs at 8am in the morning right? And why must they schdeule this run at such an insane time of the day? The streets near my house were practically deserted when Joe and I met to flag a cab to East Coast.

All in the all, I felt that this run was much harder to complete as did the 12km one. I think its because I felt more, relaxed about this race, seeing as how its only 10km so I figured I could run faster and be done with it. But I was wrong. Hoo boy. I promised I wouldn't stop to walk or anything except during the water breaks, but I broke my vows. I could feel the muscles of my trunk start to contract and tighten and it felt I was going to shrink. That's when I knew that my muscles were fatigued and I ran too quickly during the first few kilometres. I kept telling myself that you absolutely cannot stop because your goal run the entire race for under an hour. But in the end I gave out and walked at certain points for about 1 to 2 minutes before lugging my ass into running mode. When I recounted this to Joe, he said he experienced the same too, and he epplained that we might have started out too fast at the beginning of the race, seeing as how we might have perceived this race as "easier to complete than 12km". That made me feel slightly better because I thought my fitness had deproved. Even experienced runners like Joe experience this.

Anyhow, during the first 5km of the race, I was eyeing these 3 Caucasian lades who were so incredibly tall. The thing that frustrated me about them was the fact that they were so gay and relaxed about the run. They were laughing and talking and their legs just seemed to move so efficiently. It's clear that these women were experienced runners. So I told myelf that I'd overtake these 3 women. And I did. For another 3km before I totally caved in. They were practically at my heels and I was thinking to myself "Serene you had better be ahead of these 3 chicks and move your ass!" But bejesus, these women were tall. Their legs were so long and their strides were so long, my short legs had to cover twice as much distance to match the length that they covered. And they didn't even seem tired. They were giggling and chatting and waving their arms about the air. They might have been running through a field of daisies instead of running in a bloody park under the bloody hot sun.

Eventually they overtook me and I was all "sod it", because I had to pause to take a walk before I could run. The thing about endurance runs is that they get so boring! What's so interesting about running alongside foreign workers sleeping on benches and people sitting in tents and with the occasional small of barbequeing food? The only things I found interesting were the pretty litte dogs, Caucasian babies and how good looking some of the Caucasian male runners were, especially the ones who are serious competitive runners. Coming with all sorts of fancy gizmo and running wear.

I was just about dying toward the last 2km. It's as though the signs that state the number of kilometres we had run were rigged. I was about thinking "Where is the hell is 9km?!" I mean, I was running the same route as I did with the Passion Run, but I wasn't mentally prepared to handle the lst 2km. Eventually, when I reached the yellow gates, I sprinted to the end and took the finisher's medal, mineral water, Yakult (warm, yuck!) and bread and staggered back to the baggage collection point where Joe and I agreed to meet. I grabbed my bags and sat on the ground under the tent and just stared at the ground. It had been such a long morning, yet it was only 9am!

Then Joe came and we were arguing about the accuracy of my watch and alleged timing of 1hour and 3 minutes, and I told him about how failed attempt to pace these 3 Caucasian ladies and much to my bemusement, he told me the exact same thing, and went on to say that the 3 of them actually stayed near East Coast and just about every morning because he'd seen them before.

We went off to meet J, who were volunteering with her brother, at the drinks stand while waiting for the crowds to disperse. J's words of advice may have not yet fully punctured my intesne worry about weird roommates. I don't care what people say. I'm getting an apartment. I need my own space to study. J said maybe my roommate will be a total party girl and not be in the room most of the time until late into the night. I don't know. There are too many uncertainties. I hate uncertainties. I like sure things and solid facts. They make me feel secure.

So it was lunch at the food court in Bedok for the 4 of us, and Joe and I headed home, while J and her brother went for church service. I've yet to make a decision about whether or not I should go to camp. Truthfully speaking, I don't like camping and staying overnight. I wouldn't mind the camp activities and bonding sessions, but I just have problems with sleeping in sleeping bags and bathing in slimy cubicles, and being in sweaty shirts and shorts the whole day.

Aaargh. Decisions. Why must camps be overnight?

I've been having anxiety ridden panic attacks for the past few days regarding having an unknown roommate, and how I'd have to find ways to adjust my study habits to suit my new situation. One moment, I'd be somewhat excited, and the next, my heart starts pounding and beating extremely quickly and it makes me think I might be having heart failure for a moment.

I'm not used to change, especially when the situation isn't in my odds.

God, I know I don't pray to you often, but please. Help me work this out in my favor. I totally need this, much more than I want this.

A Surprise Staff Proposal

I love the way she said she'd agree to marry him!

I cannot believe how incredibly unfortunate I am to be sitting here in Singapore right now. At this very moment. Because right now, at this very instance, the London premiere for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 is happening at the Trafalgar Square.

And my aunt is there. At the Trafalgar Square. Watching the stars of Harry Potter arrive in flashy stretch limousines and cars and looking smashing. She's with Uncle T. And they've been texting me with updates every few minutes, based on what she can see because she's standing in the middle of the crowd and can't see much.

She says Emma Watson is super gorgeous and incredibly down to earth and very bouncy from the way she talks and interacts with the screaming fans. OH PROFESSOR LUPIN HAS JUST ARRIVED. AUNT SAYS HE LOOKS CUTE WITH THIS PAIR OF GLASSES HE IS WEARING. Anyway, Aunt says Emma is super gorgeous and doesn't seem to be like those stuck up actresses who make their publicists adjust their long trains of their dresses. Emma adjusts the train of her dress on her own and acts really cool and relaxed about it. She's not ruffled about having to bend down in front of the cameras.

Aunt says Trafalgar Sqaure is in absolute chaos. People are climbing over other people to get autographs and squeezing in tight spots and breathing down people's necks just to get an inch forwards. People are wearing black robes and red and yellow scarves and pointy hats and some are even waving wands! People are screaming "Emma please!", or "Voldermort, over here!", or "Professor Umbridge, this way!", or "Profesor McGonagall, here!", or "Emma you look fab!" or "Lupin!", or "Bellatrix! Amazing hat!"

None of the actors are being called by their real names. They're being called by their character's name. She finds it hilarious.

I live a miserable adenture-less life. Why can't Singapore be in London? Or rather, the real question is, why can't I be in London?!

Oh sod it. This is too depressing. I'm going to bed to soothe my pre-menstrual riddled nerves. My ovaries are driving me nuts.

I'm feeling very sick. So incredibly sick right now.

Moreover, I still have yet to decide whether or not I should go for camp. I hate overnight camps. What did I get myself into?

So far, adminsitrative issues for NTU is shaving years off my life. Definetely not what I had expected. The hostel. The apartment. The camp.

The unknown. I hate uncertainties in my life. I want to be in control of what happens, but so far, life is giving me such a headache. Maybe I shouldn't go for camp. But then what would I do next week? Why must camps exists?! I'm sure there are other fun ways of socializing, which there are! I'm not the camp type of person.

I wish I could rant to someone about this.

Seriously, why am I so ungrateful? There are millions of starving orphans in Africa, millions of homeless in Sudan and millions of hungry people around the world, and here I am sulking about one thing or another. I'm such an abonimable twit.

I refuse to stay on campus, but I don't think I might have a choice after all. I'm like that bird who realizes that its shut in the room with the windows closed, and afte hours of relentlessly hurling itself against the wall, decide to admit defeat. But not me. I'm determined. Or rather, until next Monday.

PLEASE GOD IF YOU THERE, I THINK ITS TIME TO COME DOWN AND LEND ME A HAND IN THIS. I NEED ANSWERS.

Okay, here's the thing. I don't know if I do well with change or not.

Take food for instance. I'm trying to make a lifestyle change. You know, healthy eating habits. And I'm pretty positive that camp food is catered and can be pretty much unhealthy. I'm not sure if I could handle...such a change like this, especially when I'm settling into a routine. And now camp is threatening to uproot me from stability and possible sanity? If I gain weight during camp, I swear I will commit suicide.

Then, there is the accomodation fiasco. So it turns out that there are no 2 room flats available. And the mother is saying that I might have to stay in a dorm for a while until we can find a proper 2 room flat. The thing is, I don't do well with staying with a roommate. I need to study alone, with peace and quiet. I cannot study with noise and distraction. I CANNOT. I'm sorry. Changing food over changing study conditions, I'd rather change my food.

My parents have been asking around, and I'm seriously hoping things work out because this is super super SUPER important to me. PLEASE GOD IF YOU EXIST, LET THERE BE A PROPER 2 ROOM FLAT COME UP. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Aack. Gin's class was such a pain today! Goodness the choreography was so fast, but I could catch it. The problem was that I was like at the back of the friggin class, and I couldn't see shit. I mean literally. I could barely see myself in the mirror at the front. I had to keep shifting positions just to catch a slight view of myself, even if it was for only fraction of a minute. So I may have gotten the steps, but its all the other intricate details, like hand placements, that I missed out and I ended up looking slightly off as opposed to the other people in the class.

Such situations make me wish I were taller.

I wish I were thinner so I look awesome in awesome clothes. Sheesh.

Cake Boss- Ralph's Coliseum Song

Ralph's awesome! Fav character on Cake Boss ^_^

So I just had one of the very few deep and meaningful conversations with my dad that I very rarely get to have with him. It usually starts off by "Serene, come in the study room. I want to talk to you." And I'll be thinking "Shit, what the fuck did I do? Did I forget to lock the door again?" Then it leads to me standing meekly at the door and poking my head through into the room and be all "Erm. Yeah?" Then he'll bustle me in and ask me to sit on the chair.

Well of course I had an inkling about what he wanted to talk to me about. My parents may have closed door discussion, but yeah I can still frickin hear what they're saying. So my dad discussed the idea of surgery. I think he's all for me going for this surgery, and he must have read my mind because he kept telling me not to worry about the costs because he can afford it. Its actually very reassuring to hear your father tell you not to worry about things because he can afford it. It makes me feel relieved. Because you always think you'll be such a complete burden to your parents, them having to pay for your education and food and living expenses and putting up with other kinds of crap. And surgery is no small pie in the sky. So of course my first natural reaction when the orthodontist mentioned surgery was "I can't let my parents break the bank for this!"

But my dad was somewhat nonchalent about it. It made me feel slighly better to hear him say that. Next, he went to to apologize to me for having passed on this "lousy gene" (his words, not mine) to his three children and that considering that there is a solution to his mess, he advises me to take it up.

So once that point was done, he moved on to discuss about my preparation for NTU, and said a lot of meaningful points about education and learning in life that I definetely will never forget, because my own mother can never ever tell me this. The more he spoke, the more I realized who I inherited my working ethics and ambition from. And the more I came to understand why my mum married my dad. Definetely not for his looks, but for his values and beliefs. Though its depressing to know that the relationship my parents have now is more platonic than husband-and-wife, because of the strain brought on by raising on autistic child.

My dad then started discussing marriage, and I got really embarrassed and almost choked when he went "Do you have a boyfriend?". Well I said no with ease, but then he was all:

"Do you want a boyfriend?"

"Huh?"

"Yes? No? Maybe? Don't know?"

"Erm."

"Don't know."

"I think so."

"You don't know if you want a boyfriend?"

"Erm"

"Stop erming and nodding your head like some bobblehead!"

I mean, Jesus who asks questions like that?! Well of course I want a boyfriend! But how am I supposed to say that to my dad without sounding like some desperate wannabe right? But anyway, my dad has officially banned me from meeting a future boyfriend via the Internet. Considering the whole fiasco between my sister and her boyfriend, I'd say he has nothing to worry about.

And to culminate the end of our very rare one-to-one talks, he was like "Next time, you can come to me to talk about anything. I'll be here to talk to. Better than your mum, because I've seen more in life. Anything. Life, books, homework, school, politics. Even sex. I'm a very easy guy."

Oh yeah how could I possibly discuss something like menstruation to my dad? He can't even pronounce it right! He calls it "men-sure-ra-tion". Once, he had to teach my brother the science of human reproduction and I fled the room before he could say the word 'sperm'. I may be open minded about topics relating to sex, but I am positive that I can never talk about sexual relations with my dad. I don't even discuss it with my mum! I'm sure my parents know that I know how babies are made, the mechanisms involved and all. They're just to embarrassed to mention it. Can you imagine my stuttering dad telling me "All right, so penetration occurs, and the sperm swims up the fallopian tubes and to the egg." My mum will tell me to shut up and give me a dirty look.

So you see, my sexual education didn't even come from my parents. They came from the school. And books. And the internet. And movies (much to my embarrassment, because it so much weirder seeing, as opposed to reading sex, but whatever.)

Cake Boss is on!