allthingsfrivolous's blog

I get upset. I need to talk to someone. Anyone. Anything, even. I get upset that I can't talk. Upset upon upset.

You-n.

I don't know if you've noticed, but you've caught my eye from day one. Yes, that sounds hella cheesy, but I was strangely attracted to you the first time I laid eyes on you - perhaps even magnetically. We were sitting in a big group while Sunny gave us the lowdown on house rules, and my eyes kept flitting to you, while I hoped you didn't notice. Or at least you noticed that I was looking at you, but just enough to know that you've caught my attention and not so much that you think I'm a creep. I still don't know what it was. I mean, you had pretty interesting glasses, granted, but that's about it. I don't even remember what you were wearing. (Or was I looking at you because I felt you looking at me?)

Subsequently, my hunches were proved right. You're into photography! You're artsy! You're sensitive, observant, self-reflexive, contemplative and intuitive! One by one these traits started proving themselves. You told me that the Opera chick was weird because you couldn't tell what kind of personality she was despite conversing with her for an extended period of time, when you can normally tell how to talk to a person after 5 minutes. You think people don't make enough self-aware comments. You wish your superpower was mind-reading. And I wholeheartedly agree with you. I know this sounds like bull, but I feel like on a fundamental level we are very similar. The way we assess people and the world are very close.

It is too bad that we don't have too many common interests. Of course, if you were attracted to me and too felt compelled to take it up to the next level, I'd be more than glad to learn to like your likes. I guess in one sense of the word, I don't have any real basis to LIKE you. (Because I think real liking is mutual.) You were pretty nice about me being ill, but then that might just be guilt. You haven't seemed to exhibit the same degree of concern to Sass, but that might be because I just wasn't around to witness you doing so. You seem to be touching me a whole lot more: brushing my fingers while I hand you something, digressing from the group conversation to talk to me personally (but maybe that's only because I seat myself close to you), playfully kicking me (gosh that sounds so wrong) or brushing your wet arm on my sleeve. But you might just be being playful and friendly, who's to know?

The only thing I can be sure is that you trust that I am sympathetic enough to tell me about your sad, heartbreaking love story, and even then who's to know if you merely needed some release?

From what you've told me, the way you like her is pretty different from the way I like you. I don't like you only because I find your artsiness and contemplativeness deadly sexy, but because I know, I simply know that on some fundamental but deeply-rooted level, we are alike.

I don't know. I wish I had the chance to prove my attraction to you wrong/right. If it's wrong, I'm gonna back off. Take Khairi. I was only attracted to him when I saw him doodling. That, is superficial. I was attracted to you by NOTHING. So don't take it the wrong way. Don't take me to be a superficial, besotted chick like whatshername who fawns all over you speaking French. I think it's cool that you're into photography, but if you weren't I would've still been attracted to you, because I was already.

Momentous

19 June 2009, the first non-relative person slept over at my place, the first boy that slept over in my bed, the first time I fell asleep with the boy I enjoy (love?) next to me. The first time I truly slept in, the first time I experienced what it means to have a pre-sleep and post-waking make out session. If only it meant something, something worthwhile enough to make it last forever.

boys boys, all types of boys

Keefe
Danial
Khairi
Bernard
(Kelvin?)
(Syed?)
(Zixian?)

A long kiss

"ive been feeling like kissing you"

I typed onto my handphone screen, and pushed it to him. I adamantly refused to make eye contact, and instinctively shyed into a fetal crouch. After a slightly awkward exchange of filler talk, I ask "So what do you think of it?" He says: I'm open.

Then somehow it happened, I don't know if he moved in on me first or if I did, (I think he did!) and we kept at it for a good while, ten, twenty minutes maybe, several buses zooming past and probably a couple of them ours, but his hand never moving anywhere less chaste than the curve of my bum. He was gentle and tender - it is only too bad that there weren't "sparks". I know a good kiss when I've experienced one. Are kisses truly indicative of a "connection"?

I am glad he did it, even if it was a favour, because it's something to think about and smile foolishly to myself.

maternal instincts

Her cooking has gone from bad to worse. I have an immense urge to let her know that if she cannot make it up to her children (or more specifically, me) in terms of her time, she better make it up to me in terms of her money.

disappointed.

Frankly speaking, I am disappointed. I was hoping to get a perverse high from ignoring her birthday greeting, but now that the message has come and gone, the sense of reluctance that the tone of her message exudes probably means that she'll more than welcome a lack of response. Now, why does she have to make things so hard for me?

Lesson learnt: it's a lot harder to be mean to people who don't like you.

They're like armoured tanks, and your bullets of scorn don't penetrate. What's worse is that their cannons of hypocrisy may blow your tank up to smithereens.

I'm really glad that all these lovely people messaged me, though. I know, I know. It doesn't take much to SMS someone. But I like to consider the fact that I can't even remember birthdays, and much less bother to SMS people even if I do remember. I guess my pitiful standards in treating people allow me to judge them more kindly.

I was somewhat surprised that D.C. wished me a happy birthday, though. But I wish he didn't. If he didn't, I wouldn't have developed that inkling of a hope that the other one would. I don't understand myself. I am not pining for him. (Or am I just in denial?) I think I just want him to pine for me. But a careful retrospective evaluation has yielded the conclusion that I was merely a substitute, and whatever nice acts he did were merely an attempt to convince himself. It sort of sucks to know that, but then again, I didn't like him all that much anyway. I just fell for his stupid tricks.

Gawd I'm so gullible. I don't know when I can bring myself to talk to him again. I think that day will come when I stop getting that sinking, choking feeling I get whenever I pass his house and see someone who vaguely resembles him. Thank goodness I'll never have to go for tuition again. That place has negative connotations for me.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?! I don't understand :((((((((((((((((((((

Honestly I think I just deal really badly with rejection.

I really need to:

1. Lose weight like FUCK SHIT YEA.
2. Get hot.
3. And get laid, or something.

profile

1969. male. st andrews junior and secondary. hcjc. chem, physics, math, A. econs B. GP A. sailing. NUS literature. been teaching ever since graduation. contemplated theology and computer game design. has a sister who is artistically inclined. got married when 35. wife is in PR. no children. when asked if he has any, frequently retorts with "what, do i look infertile?" drives a two-seater. lives in bukit timah. is doing his PhD dissertation on philo and lit. ardent christian, btw.

Teaches KI and Lit - Duchess of Malfi. in charge of drama. wife is supposed to be hot. he is tall. very tall.

poetry.
regret

watching fathers
dressed in their sloppy

domestic best
obliviously content

with their children
of various sizes and ages

makes me remember
how i agreed

to flush mine away
in an operating room

some always recent
years ago.

I hate you.

"She's so smart, so rich, yet she doesn't have any friends."

It angered me. It angered me when I heard it by proxy, it angers me to remember it now. The person who said it is of little consequence. Yes, she's completely unimportant to me. Her eventual death would only elicit a "oh, how sad" from me, the same reaction that I had when I heard that YK's mother had died. I've never cared for her, I don't care for her, and I'll never care for her. Yet such intense emotions bubble up when I heard this, and really because, it rings true. It's undeniably true, and I'm not angry at her: I'm upset at its pealing accuracy.

Why do people convey such horrible things? What do they do it out of? Concern? Pity? Malice? Malice, maybe. They're out to see me hurt. Concern? What good is such concern if they only poke your injury and say, "Hey, you got a bruise!" instead of helping you to ease the pain? Pity? I don't know how pity comes into the equation. It doesn't work out.

I have half a mind not to turn up later. I am angry with Erica. I wanted to chill at the beach, have a pleasant time, cycling quietly alongside each other, watch the sea foam lapping gently against the shore. I didn't foresee myself having to put up with a couple of dykes that I don't care for. I didn't foresee myself having to endure strained smiles, forced conversation, contrived amusement. Am I really angry at Erica? Yes, I am. For the previous incident where they went out without telling me about it, Erica happened to be the unfortunate intermediary. This time, it is squarely her fault. I distinctively told her I wanted to chill at the beach. Surely she knows that I hate those dykes, and that lianish low-class trash of a chick. Maybe she had wanted to go to the beach with them all along? No, that's not possible. She did say that she intended to go to the beach alone after school.

But if I don't go, I'll have nothing to do. Sure, I have a feast of lovely books to tuck into, I've a cross-stitch that I want to finish asap, I've to study for my SATs, I probably have to get ready for the A's, I've to work on my IS. But nothing beats socialising. But what if it's socialising when I don't want to?

Ah. Better give it a shot. If I find myself agonising overmuch, I'll just leave earlier. They'll be happier for it anyway. Those bitches. Shit fuck crap. I hate life. Does shit happening makes me feel shitty? Or does my state of shittiness attract shitty things to happen to me? For fuck, this sucks.

ahh!

HE TOLD ME THAT HE IS GAY!!!! Omg omg omg. I'm not entirely surprised by the revelation: I'm more surprised that he chose to tell me out of everyone else he could have told. Isn't it nice to know that people regard me as important/worthy enough to confide such things in me? It'll be super fun to have a gay best friend, I think. Imagine the hotties we could scope out with our combined efforts! Wow. I'm in no danger of falling for him though. He's too much like me, I think. But he could be a good friend.

On a side note: He responded EXACTLY how I wanted him to. Bloody awesome. Isn't it easy to work people? :D