While staying in a reflective and contemplative mood is enlightening at times, I find that it brings me absolute uncertainty and unhappiness, knowing that the position I am currently in life is so undesirable. 

I look at people who are able to pursue their interests with abandon, while I'm consumed with nothing but school, school and more school. I don't think I can honestly say that dance is a true passion. I love it. I really do. But I devote so little time to it. I'm jealous of those who can juggle school and passion, because I want nothing more than to do that too. Yes. The green eyed monster. I'm filled with jealousy and even hatred sometimes. I know that I can choose to be happy and just go and dance. But if you;'re in my position, and understand where I'm coming from, I think you'll find it easier to understand. 

It seems that everyone has gotten new lives and new friends but me. 

I love you, but at the same time, I hate you too. I don't want you to have it all. 

http://www.hopeofthefuture.net/deletedscenes/t4del26.html

Kyle Reese burying Marcus Wright and finding Sarah Connor's polaroid in John Connor's jacket pocket?! Why was this scene deleted?!

Must find blu-ray / director's cut dvd. YouTube isn't showing this. Damn/

I watched Transformers again after dinner, and it was beautiful. I swear. The scene where the Autobots descend to Earth, where Optimus Prime emerges from the steaming pool and where all the Autobots finally meet Sam and Mikaela for the first time, its as though the lost long Messiah that the Jews have been waiting for finally appeared. 

The entire movie made me draw two conclusions:

1. If I actually collect enough Rubik's cube, I could essentially get my own All Spark. But of course it'll be too big to actually fit in my apartment, but since the All Spark can be shrunk to a travel-friendly size, I suppose all I need is just Rubik's cube and I'll be sole human possessor of a raw energy source capable of bringing life to technology. 

2. If that is the case, then basically every piece of electronic equipment I have in this apartment is a potential robot, although it'll be devastating if they actually turn out to be Decepticons. 

Just finished watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and it was surprisingly a very interesting show. A little like 500 Days of Summer, but more collegiate. And interesting. Surprisingly, I didn't really like Emma Watson in this movie. Its not because of her half English half American accent that sounded really wonky to me, but. I'm not sure exactly what it is. 

I think Patrick has to be my favorite character in the movie. 

School begins in 4 days, but at this point, I'm actually wondering if I have any classes scheduled on Monday. I didn't even bother to check my registered classes. I really should. Like. Now. Or tonight. I'm such a procrastinator. I'm supposed to be designing a poster for URECA but I'm agonizing over how and what I should include in it. Art and design isn't my strongest forte. Anyone who has seen me draw a bird can attest to that. Or a cat. I've been told that my drawing of a cat looks like a 4 toothed comb with a tail. Okay, Shards told me that, and holy cow she told me that during our very first Personality Psyche lecture. Last August! Has it really been that long?! 

I'm turning 22 this year, but 22 seems so much older than 21. Or am I just imagining things? I'm not prepared for the responsibilities of adulthood. Wait, I'm an adult right? Yes, I am. 21 is the age of adulthood. Crap. How can someone like me be an adult? I remember J sounding very intrigued when I told him that Singaporeans typically live with their parents, even as adults if they're unmarried, when he was telling our entire acting class that he had gotten an apartment and moved out of his natal home when he was 18. Mr E before he started university. I can't imagine living alone. Wait, actually I can. But what will I do at home by myself if I'm bored? Is there such a thing as a one-man Monopoly? I like Monopoly. I need to be kept busy, or bad and strange things will happen. 

I walked to the store to get bread and milk when I noticed the cashier staring at me intently as she was ringing up my stuff and I was starting to get suspicious when she said "You have a brother right? Big and tall with glasses, who always buys green tea." And I went "Yeah, that's my brother.".

"You looks just like him."

Great. Now I look like a boy. I'm going to go down right this instant and slap that bitch across the face. And lock my brother in the house so no one will start noticing how much mutated and disfigured XY-looking XX chromosomed homosapien. 

Success! I have finally (and hopefully) finished editing my pictures for my experiment. Its about time, because the Adobe Photoshop trial run expires today. I'm so proud of myself, even if I do say so myself, because do you have any idea, how long it takes to Photoshop pictures of people? How do these photo editors of Vogue do it? How? And now I completely know why people develop body image issues. Photoshop is a sneaky little thing. 

Anyhow, I'm sneaking in a post before going to the gym for a run on the treadmill, instead of on the elliptical machine for a change, while my iPhone is charging so I can watch movies while running. 

I watched The Rainmaker today and it is so brilliantly good. Its based on John Grishmam's book with the same title, which stars Matt Damon as a rookie lawyer who takes on the case of a young man dying from leukemia who could have received a bone marrow transplant, if not for the insurance company that refused to cover the cost of his entire treatments, and so Damon finds himself trying to bring down one of the largest insurance corporations in the U.S with the help of Danny DeVito, his assistant as they fight tooth and nail to uncover skeletons and get detect loopholes and inconsistencies in the company's claims. Granted, its all fictional, but its really does reflect the reality of the mechanics of insurance companies in the real world and how unreliable some of them can get. Bloody fat American cats ripping citizens off, especially minority citizens. 

I've also re-read the following books: Green Zone, Imperial Life in the Emerald City, by R. Chandransekaran, a nonfiction book that describes George Bush's attempts to build democracy in a war-torn Middle East during the Iraq war 8 years ago and the unintended consequences of it, as well as The Fall of Baghdad, by Jon Lee Anderson, another nonfiction book that reports the lives of the Iraqis during Saddam's regime.

I find it sad how governments and presidents see the need for war. So much devastation and loss. And the rising number of rape cases, not just in New Delhi, but around the world, especially in the Middle East and Africa where women are cruelly underrepresented and silenced with a veil. 

I weep for humanity.  

I've been rewatching Terminator Salvation for the 54th time in the past few days, from start to finish and it is SO amazing. Christian Bale looks too gorgeous is a crew cut and army fatigues. Even though he seems to a stiff dude with no personality as John Connor, but he's so beautiful and I'm in love with him! I foresee where my Kinokuniya vouchers will be invested in - Terminator novelizations! Tee hee. They've done a prequel AND a sequel to the Terminator Salvation movie! The prequel talks of the journey of Kyle Reese and Star before finding Marcus, and the sequel talks of John's recovery from his heart transplant, and how Barnes and Blair Williams discover more human survivors in the Skynet Central wreckage. Brilliant or what? Must. Get. Them. I officially know EVERY line in the Terminator  Salvation movie. Geek or nerd? It doesn't matter because this movie is rocking and I cannot believe some critics hated the movie. What a bunch of suckers. They're obviously a bunch of jealous men, although I wish Marcus Wright hadn't given up his heart to John Connor because I would so very much love to see a sequel in which he, as the first Terminator, collaborates with the Resistance to fight the machines. Damn it why did John Connor have to get stabbed in the heart? 

I've already planned a sequel, where John Connor and his team of Resistance fighters return to the demolished Skynet Central in San Francisco as they search through the remnants for information on Skynet, and discover more human prisoners, one of whom is a woman a brilliant computer hacker and fighter and has been secretly pilfering information from Skynet's central databases while kept as a prisoner there, since the machines have been using humans as both slaves to help manufacture the Terminators and dispose of waste and using them as models for the new T-800 series. Not only is she a brilliant technical specialist, she knows how to shoot guns and is a brilliant strategist, and basically embodies female badass chick but at the same time, is loyal, kind hearted and nurturing. John Connor then rescues her to his Resistance base camp where she relays to him the secrets of Skynet and goes on missions with him around California (because that's where the team is based) to destroy Skynet base camps. However, on one particular mission, she gets shot at by the T-800 by jumping in front of John Connor to protect him because he is after all the primary target of the Terminators since he is the prophesized leader of the Resistance that will destroy Skynet in the end. However, the Terminators are simply too powerful and the mortal humans are no match for the machines and after much gunfire ,  they are the only two humans left and they have to continue fighting their way out and manage to escape them, but her injuries incapacitate her and he valiantly supports her all the way back to his base camp which is an hour's walk away. The harsh Californian sun and desert strains her physically and mentally and she urges her to leave her because she's not going to make it, but he's adamant and vows to bring her back to base to treat her. She starts coughing up blood and complains of pain in her chest and abdomen and he has her lie down and he lifts her shirt up and sees that the ragged wound on her abdomen so extremely severe and he immediately removes his shirt and uses it as a bandage to tie round her waist to stem the bleeding. 

They make it back, but she passes out from the massive blood loss and he donates blood to her and after the operation she wakes up, pale and shaking and thinking she's back in Skynet Central where she was held prisoner, but then she sees a man in a white coat who, it turns out, is the doctor that operated on her, and who then informs her that its a miracle she survived because she had lost a large amount of blood but its thanks to John Connor who gave his blood to her, that she's alive. The doctor then moves away and she sees John standing behind the doctor and he moves forward and sits next to her and the doctor leaves the room to give them privacy and he asks how she is and she says she feels tired and groggy and aching slightly, but she looks in his eyes and she forgets the pain and then he thanks her for rescuing him but then goes on to berate her and telling her that it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but the gentle tone and warmth of his voice makes her smile and he smiles back and strokes her head and plants a gentle warm kiss on her forehead and in that moment her heart melts and she thinks of how they bound together by the same blood and he tells her to close her eyes and get more rest and he starts to get up and leave the room to give her some quiet time, but she grabs his hand before he can leave and asks him to stay with her, at least until she falls asleep, and he pauses for a while, unsure of what to do, but then makes a snap decision a second later and sits back down and gently runs his palm over her face and closes her eyes and kisses her nose and says he'll stay forever and she feels safe again and finally falls asleep, her chest rising and falling as he clutches her hands and never letting go. 

What a brilliant, storyline right? James Cameron, the creator of Terminator, should totally hire me as producer and scriptwriter, but then he'll ask me to be in charge of casting and enquire as to who is brilliant and beautiful women that John rescues from Skynet Central, and I'll look at him and say:

But of course I'm the woman. Who else? 

Wow the last time I was here was just last year - literally. I can't believe I'm turning 22 this year. Why does that sound so old? I can only remember too well, my primary schools days when I kept moaning and groaning about how its a chore growing up and that I wanted to turn older soon because I hated school and my puny classmates (okay the puny boys who constantly made fun of me: thanks to you I'm in therapy.) and now here I am, thinking about how quickly the years are going by and wondering what the future lies in store for me. I'm officially an adult now, which come to think of it, makes no sense because how can someone as politically apathetic and still so emotionally immature be an adult? There are so many things in life I've yet to experience - earning a steady income, falling in love, heartbreak, dumping a boy. I think my life has been somewhat smooth sailing so far. I've never needed a real job because I have been shamelessly living off the hard-earned money of my father (thank you daddy), and my 21st year of life has been filled with many emotionally torrid moments and experiences.

2012 has been both an exhilarating and grueling journey for me. For instance, I turned 21 (oh my goodness I can vote now. Wait what's the difference between the Worker's Party and the PAP?!), I trekked to Mount Everest Base Camp (technically it was at the end of 2011) with the most amazing group of students, went to Los Angeles on my own and experienced for myself the beauty and the wonder of a very liberal culture & joined at the very last minute (on the deadline actually) URECA, acronym for Undergraduate Research Experience on Campus, that has allowed me to embark on research body image and peer comparison, that has simultaneously made me delve deeper into other perspectives of examine body image, most particularly the feminist perspective that has expanded my knowledge and frustrations at the social constructions and gender inequalities in every society, especially so in Asian countries such as Japan, India and the Middle East where patriarchy is the prominent feature of the culture that majorly contributes to gender discrimination.

On the downside, my eating problems and body esteem spiraled out of control, to my utter despair, and I desperately struggled to preserve my sanity, and my grades, as my eating problems significantly affected my ability to concentrate in school. I was relapsing so often and couldn't focus because I was obsessed with the food I ate, what I can eat after, what I eat tomorrow, how much I had to exercise, exercising, how badly I had failed, crying, cutting and wanting to kill myself. I've had suicidal thoughts in the past, I admit, but they were intermittent. It happened only a few times when I was at an extreme low in my life, and they rarely occurred. This year, I was having them everyday. I formulated plans. I prepared. I planned, and I was thought I was ready. I planted the seed and fed it. I was certain I wouldn't survive this eating disorder. and, literally thought that there was no way out. I wanted treatment, but I was afraid of approaching my mother. but then I thought it'd be good to do so because she'd save me the trouble of suicide by actually murdering me first.

But I've friends to thank for who willingly stood by me, even though they didn't need to, for encouraging me and pushing me and never judging me. Yes, that's you Shu. And Mira, Zee, Shards & Nette. I couldn't ask for better friends, who have been my pillars of strength and support, comfort and love. And my aunt whom I confided and confessed the most too. I opened my entire heart out to her. She suffered from bulimia in her teens and knew exactly what I was going through. She advised and help, coached and encouraged. Bless her heart but it didn't work because I was still planning to drink that entire bottle of bleach and go to bed. Finally, I gave her the permission to tell my mother.

I'm still not sure how my mother took it, and is taking it. I read her texts. And I remember the shame I felt when I read the texts she exchanged with my aunt. She was shocked and confused, asked my aunt if I was sure I had an eating disorder, and lamented how she'd help her children but no one would help her. I think I cried after reading that conversation. My mother texted me. Texted me. "We'll go see a doctor about your situation okay?" And I remember feeling so relieved. So thankful. And I cried like wounded hippo after that. Because alas, the journey to seeing a doctor was harrowed. The appointments kept getting pushed back. I became angry and upset. Relapsing more. Binging and purging more. Cutting more. Losing focus and ignoring my studies more and more. Finally, my mother set up an interim appointment at a private clinic for an assessment to "get things going".

She drove me there, but it wasn't a pleasant experience. We were both silent. I entered the doctor's office full of dread and fear. The doctor was a complete imbecile. I told him of my eating practices and exactly how I binged and purged, and that was why it had brought me here. And to my utter astonishment, he had told me that it can be considered "normal" if it meant it were to help me control my weight. I remember feeling extremely incredulous when he said that and asked how could it be normal, if it were giving me so much distress, to the point that I had actually wanted to consume bleach.  I don't remember what he told me after, but I left the office feeling even more dejected.

He had suggested a second appointment with the psychologist for a trial run of CBT. When the front desk when my mother was making payment, the receptionist asked which day I would like. My mother looked at her, and gave her a half hearted smile and pointed to me "Ask her. Its her problem, not mine", then walked away to text someone. . I remember the look on the receptionist's face: bewilderment and confusion mixed with pity and embarrassment. I remember how the second receptionist had looked up from her desk so slightly when she heard the remark, and quickly returned to her work. And I could only remember feeling embarrassed and even more lonely than I ever had felt in my entire life after that.

The journey home, needless to say, was unpleasant. We argued. She yelled at me, demanding to know why I didn't even tell her. And I tearfully told her that I didn't know how, and that I was afraid she would judge me and that when I confided in my aunt, I felt safe. She accused me of making her out to be the "bad person" now, and I kept thinking how could she make it about her when I'm the one being destroyed? When I arrived home, I locked myself in my room and remember thinking how I absolutely hated her, how I wished she weren't my mother, how I hated my family and how I wanted a normal family. Parents who are comforting and supporting, always asking about their children and wanting to spend time with them and perhaps even no siblings because I dislike them so. The truth is that to me, they're just my siblings and nothing more. We share the same blood, but that will only remain a biological fact. I feel no sense of loyalty to them whatsoever. I always dream of the day where my sister leaves and never comes back, and my brother never being born.

My first appointment at SGH was set for November. My mother followed me, but this time we were more relaxed about it. We lamented at the long waiting time. She left early to go for a parent teacher meeting. I entered the psychiatrist's office full of hope. Dr Li was warm, matronly and charming. I was interviewed by her two medical students. They probed and prodded. Finally, Dr Li told me what I had already known all along, my eating patterns fit the criteria for EDNOS, Eating Disorder not Otherwise Specified, that I have mixed symptoms of anorexia and bulimia but they were lacking in severity.

I was made to see a dietician to help me regulate my eating rhythm, and a psychologist to talk about the issues plaguing me. Admittedly, the first 2 weeks of treatment were hard. I continued relapsing and thought maybe I'd never get better, but I received unlikely support and advice from Nette who had seen a dietician herself, and motivated me to continue through my eating plan.

I've met up with psychologist twice already, and speaking to her has shed quite a bit of light on the causes of my eating disorder. The issue that she brought up that I had never thought about before was the issue of attention. She told me that perhaps the need to control my eating stems from a desire to gain attention from others, given my childhood in which my father was almost always away, and my mother focusing on my invalid brother and favoring my older sister. She asked me to describe instances where my parents praised me. I came up blank. She asked me to describe episodes where I felt my mother favored, or paid more attention to my siblings. She had to stop me. She asked me to describe one salient memory of it. I told her how she had brought my sister shopping for prom dresses before her prom, but told me I would look ugly in a dress. I had to stop after that because I just wanted to cry.

It got me thinking a lot while on the way home. Figuring things out and whatnot. While I feel relieved that all that negative energy is being acknowledged, its made me think of how tired I am of going through all this, and how I wouldn't want children in the future because I don't want children to be a reflection of me. I hate myself now. I hate the way I look. I hate that I'm not beautiful, or gorgeous and how boys don't get attracted to me. What if I hate my daughter in the future because she looks like me?

I know. It sounds selfish. It is selfish. Maybe I'll bring this up during my next session with the psychologist and see what she thinks. I've been having dreams about being on stage and failing a Chinese test recently. According to several websites, dreaming of being on stage may represent a desire to be a center of attention, and may represent your behavior, and/or manipulation of relationships and interactions with others. Dreaming of failing a test possibly signifies a fear of not meeting other people's expectations. I'm not sure what this means, or if this even means anything. I'm a student of science but I admit I am a believer in dreams. I've been keeping records of my dreams since I was 16 and I've noticed interrelated patterns in my dreams and my waking experiences.

Geez, so much agony and existential stuff. I think this calls for a bout of much needed yoga and meditation.