Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading
So sick and tired of all the needless beating
This Is Me
Me. Magical. Min. Maniac. Monster. Monetary.
"Never let anything known for anyone to stab you in."
FORGIVE BUT NEVER FORGET!
My Social Networking Links
My Facebook **hint hint - add me**
The Only One And Best Exotic Dance School In Singapore
My Ultimate Shopping Heaven
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Just For Laughs
"Hey Dude, you want to talk about planning and all? I was being lectured like an idiot for my failure to plan.Well, they always say that people don't plan to fail, but they fail to plan.
So, I just took my marker and took a sheet of paper (they call the large white sheet of A3, A2? I don't know 'A' what la) which is popularly known as "Majong Paper". Plan my life. Instead of doing a proper job, I got so distracted and was guilty of being mischievousness I just want to use the array of color pens that I have till their ink finishes so that I can keep the outer casing for display - pretty much like a rainbow. Should it be in mind-map or organized in step-by-step structural form or in a pyramid style? These were the thoughts going through my mind and, now that I am reflecting on my actions today, I noticed how easily distracted I can be. Like now. We went out and drifted more than far from the topic of "Planning".
Planning. Proper planning should be done. WHY DOES GOD GOES AGAINST HIS PEOPLE'S WISHES?!?!?!
I thought I had it all figured out, I did. I know I am tough to stick it out with it. And more than capable of doing two things at once (I'm a well-known multi-tasker). I brag about myself here a lot because potential employers always slam shut my chance whenever they hear that I have Bipolar. Fuck that shit. My life had me on my knees and cuffs. Which is a good enough reason for me to pack my stuff and leave the world. After all, I had insurances and fixed deposit bank accounts willed to every member of my family and a very special best-est best friend in my life. I still can handle all these shit myself as it's just all about me. When I fell, I had no friends. No, no, no. No hommies that would hang out with me, no buddies and all. None. Zero. Fat letter O. I am flying too fast. Advancing at such a speed that nobody can stop me.I'm way beyond the lines. Too keen a learner. Too wanna-be independent. Too much of a perfectionist.
I don't blame the world. I blamed myself! Took the whole damn bloody world on my shoulders. Shit! This post started out funny and I'm starting to act weird. It's like another episode of "bipolar" thatt brings me into a ga-ga-goo-goo.
I thought I had found the most ideal job for me yesterday. But I guess my current employer couldn't bring herself to keep the secret to herself and misjudged me. My ideal job has long working hours, no breaks in between, and an area of things yet to learn. Working hours were from 9am to 6pm. Perfect job that suits my criteria. The current one was one with shifts, only a part timer. The pay was reasonable, at eight dollars per hour. But they have breaks in between their working hours. The place is opened at 8.30am to 12.30pm, 2.30pm to 5.30pm and 7pm to 9pm. As an efficient worker who likes to prepare before hand, I would make sure my tasks are done in perfection and I am always quick in actions. So, normally during breaks, I would nap. But upon waking up, I tend to get a little "out-of-touch" with the world until I have my first coffee. That's why my employers are complaining that I couldn't focus properly. I lost the opportunity to start afresh somewhere else all due to that fucking bipolar which I was wrongly diagnosed for and that I am not hearing voices in my head nor do I have suicidal thoughts. Speaking of which, I am supposed to joke about planning how to suicide (teaching dangerous and potential "copy and paste" plans on how to die - HIGHLY CLASSIFIED AS DANGER FOR THOSE DEPRESSIVE KIDS OUT THERE).
On the other hand, I am a realist person. I understand and live by the rule that "Money makes the world goes round". All I want is a chance to start anew. Start anew somewhere, somehow. WHY DOES THESE PEOPLE FUCKING JUDGE BIPOLAR AND REJECTS THEM LIKE THEY ARE SARS VIRUS (yes, we are talking about the ability to kill here) AND TREATS US LIKE WE ARE DEADLY?!?!?! Medicine in Singapore don't come cheap. Go to government hospital is expensive as well.
Fuck it. Hell yea, you can't blame Singapore for being very good at complaining. Complain, complain, complain all day long. So much so that even aunties' English improved drastically. Imagine how many letters those aunties have written just to get someone to see the problem and solve it. Those people reading complain letters simply can't be bothered. This is what I feel ashamed of FOR SINGAPOREANS is that your service standards suck to the fucking core. Haughty Singaporeans! A penny, for me, must be spent - worthwhile or nothing else. Having to expect these simple standards from others, I must first be the one who shows. If not, all my words would be weightless preaching that aren't worth listening to. Everybody should have the drive and motivation to not give up and give nothing but the best quality you can ever serve. Ever serve have to be better than the previous. With more experience, one tends to SHINE out from the rest. This attitude should be in every human being's head. Well, fuck my lecturer for saying that there is no "two common senses" out there. Put it this way, NO BLOODY PERSON HAVE THE SAME COMMON SENSE. Tons of misinterpretations, tons of misjudgments and everything.
Okay. This is my speech at all interviews.
Hi, I am an extremely fast learner, keen and tend to be proactive in the process of learning. I only expect perfection from myself. Of course, that's only my standards. What matters is that the boss must be satisfied, if not extremely happy with my result or what I delivers. Talk is cheap and actions prove it all. Give me a chance and let me show it to you. I am being known for "under-promise, over-deliver". I like satisfaction on the receivers' end. I practically live off compliments. Money is not an issue to me. What's more is that I can adapt to changes immediately. I know when to shut up and when to ask.By now, I would have raised eyebrows questioning my agenda for working. Silly you, it's keep my brain from aging. I want it to think and function properly. To keep an active brain if not, I'm better off dead. My whole life is about pleasing people that I like. If I liked you, I'd do anything for you. That's how I am. I love to please people. I am submissive. Weak, even. But it brings about satisfaction of knowing my service standards are up to people's expectations. This is how crazy I have became.
I love my job scope so much that I dare not to disclose it here. Afraid that this fucking blog would ruin E-V-E-R-Y future that I have in the same line. I want to be constantly updated and aware of the latest research. I love my job so much but WHY ISN'T PEOPLE OUT THERE GIVING ME A CHANCE? ALL DUE TO THAT FUCKING BIPOLAR WHICH WAS WRONGLY DIAGNOSED?!?! AND FOR THE FACT THAT I AM STILL A GOOD GIRL, ACCOMMODATING TO THE RULES AND EATING MY MEDICATIONS REGULARLY, THERE SHOULDN'T BE ANY PROBLEM RIGHT? SHOULDN'T IT? But why? Why is society driving me to death? I can feel so much rage in me now that I swear that I could fuel the energy for the whole army of protesters. Do you want to see a useless me? Someone who doesn't think and do things? I could always do a career switch! Fuck it, bitch. I am a Gemini. I adapt to changes immediately. Singapore is a fast moving country whereby changes are drastic within a short span of five years. That is no big deal for me. I can keep it up anyways. These are just little things that we Singaporeans are blessed with. We are trained by the environment that changes happen really fast and before you know it, wham-bam and it's over. Grab that twig or not, it's dependent on yourself. All for one self. Says who not.\
WHY AREN'T I LANDING MYSELF A JOB. I NEED ONE. I DON'T WANT TO TOUCH MY SAVINGS IN CASE IF I WERE TO DIE.AT LEAST I DIDN'T LIVE FOR NOTHING. I LIVED AND SAVED JUST ABOUT TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS TO EACH AND EVERY SINGLE MEMBER OF MY FAMILY AND IF I AM GONE, AT LEAST THEY CAN BUY TISSUES FOR `A WHOLE LIFE TIME.
Cost of living in Singapore is going way too high for people like me. Educated or not, you are somehow stuck in the shit or having the after effects of a hell of a hit of a receipt. I mean, come on. We all learn in Marketing class that thermometers are cheap. But the disposable covers that comes with it aren't. Same thing here. Product comes cheap. But the maintenance bills are out of the world shocking high, along with the gadgets that comes with it. Well, brother, you have no choice because you bought that product and you make even more loss if you were to switch brands. So might as well pay for the maintenance cost instead, right? Wrong mindset of these people. That's how companies earn their income. It's always the up-keeping that is costly, never the product itself. This analogy could also be used on babies. Babies come in this world and the process is free. But in order to deliver a baby, one must pay. We haven't even come to his or her diapers and milk powder money yet! That's how freaking high the standards of living in Singapore is.
AND I AM SURVIVING ON A MERGE PAY OF HUNDRED PLUS PER MONTH? Somebody just shoot me, right? Now that I've typed out all my fueled-frustrations I can rest in peace. Just want people to give me that chance to prove. Don't just slam the door on me just like that. I am fragile and innocent. So please, society please? Don't force me to do a career switch. I don't want to be some old boring administrative staff out there. I want endless learning. I want to be busy. I hate to relax. Every minute in my life, as long as I am awake, I want to earn money. Opportunity costs. Every day without making money? You might as well drive me to death! I know I am diagnosed with "Obsession". But healthy obsession is okay! I mean I just don't want myself to be so outdated with all the news and everything. I DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT YOU CAN MAKE MONEY OUT OF SERVICE. Service charge. If I were to grade myself, I'd confidently say that priceless-ly high due to perfection of myself. I used to think that it is unfair that I charge people for what I do. But who knows the saying, "Do what you love or love what you do" tells me all. Meaning that a favor is a favor. In the real world, no favors are free anymore. It's not like last time when favor means, "Okay la, since I'm free and have the ability to do it, then do la".
For me, I treat every single favor like a task. A mission for me to complete and to hand in nothing but only the finest and the best-in-the-world answer or reply. I call it satisfaction. It makes me joyful. I mean, to see satisfied answers or the least, acknowledge my effort put in already makes me happy. Come to think of it.... Very, very much of a attention seeker. I may not know but I am desperate to tell people that I gave it all I could to do some task that's being handed. I am not "slob-by" and in fact, the very opposite I am a perfectionist. May it be paid or not, I like to leave people with satisfaction on their faces. And I am imagining myself, as a ghost, if I am dead, would my parents and siblings be contented with the little amount I can cough out with (I have to go down on my knees to get a proper job. Shitty pay and all but no complains, gritted my teeth and pull through). Sometimes I think I need recognition for all the effort that I have put in. I scare myself to death by working so hard. But work is the only reason why I am here. I can survive on plain rice with chili everyday. But one day I would have to get a house of my own. I feel ashamed when I have to rely on my Mom for medication bills that are close to a thousand per month, my motherfucking god! I feel useless like I am nothing but a burden. I try not to listen to my thoughts and let it controls me. But I cannot deny the fact that I am that bloody useless. At this age and not able to afford an apartment? OUTRAGES USELESS FUCK I AM.
Nobody pressures themselves like that, don't they? I love my nature of "self-abuse" of some sort, like a fucking pervert who couldn't stop adding stress to myself so that I can improve further and further.
Damn it. I spent like a total 9 hours typing this out. I thought I had it mapped out but guess I didn't *oops*. These fucking black clouds just hover me around even when I had exorcised all demons that stands in my way.
I have to end my rant here. End my rant. Get it? Hee hee. Good night and sleep tight.... Wahahahhahahah *in an old creepy low tone voice in whispers* and don't let the bed bugs bite.
I ALWAYS LOVE A TOUCH OF MYSTERIOUS ENDING LIKE THIS! AND NOW I'M BEING A NARRATOR AND VOICING OUT LOUD THAT I HAVE AN ADRENALINE RUSH ALL OF A SUDDEN BECAUSE I STRETCHED MY BACK AND WIDE AWAKE I FEEL.Hee hee. Got to rely on sleeping pills again. TEE HEE. FUCK IT. I'M SMILING WITH MY TEETH WIDE OPEN AND LISTENING TO THE FRESH MORNING, FIRST TRAIN AT 5.30 THAT LEAVES JURONG EAST INTERCHANGE MRT STATION SHARP!
You know huh, when I was younger, I used to be afraid of the dark and ghosts. So much so that I would open my eyes really wide and make sure that my room is designed in a way that there is not a single hiding place (I've come to realize that I have fantastic parents! Damn it man. Mom and Dad, I love you and I love you to my bloody hell! I'll tell that to you everyday as I could!) in sight. My back must be touching the wall for comfort and at that time, it was my first time having a room of my own. Normal people are delighted to have their own private space but not me. I feel like a Malay. Forever in groups and always need comfort and pampering (Mind you, in case you says that I am cute enough to cuddle, some other hurtful reality is that I have a mature face and an independent looking body with assets that girls would die for didn't help me much). So I had a queen-sized comforter that keeps me warm and safe. Psychologists would now pass me off as a little girl in need of love, warmth and comfort. But I got to be strong. I am the big sister. Someone to show an example to. I remember not shedding a single tear when I fell down the escalator in front of my younger sister when we were being treated ice cream to by my youngest "kim kim". I felt that immense sense of responsibility when we were running up the down escalator and I was carrying a baby and subconsciously while chasing the girls, I landed mysel into an opposite escalator too. That was when I fell. The edge of the steps went right through my knees. Blood was pounding out of that vein in high speed. Dripping everywhere, the blood is. But I couldn't feel the pain. Maybe that was my first encounter of what a real "shock" can do. Which is your brain numbing you from feeling anything, letting you think rationally and logically. Shock happens to me a lot of times. Various reasons like responsibilities, seeing myself as an example for the younger generations, seeing me as someone to mimic. It just all comes down to responsibilities. For hell I can don't care about the people reading my blog but the usage of the word "fuck" itself had me stuck, pondering on whether or not to use it because it is a bad example to kids or youngsters! Now, I don't want to be blamed for making your child's English bad but I am no Xiaxue, who prefers to let it all out. I am more of a Dawn Yang dainty. Only good standard English allowed. But people prefers the QUEEN OF ALL BLOGS *tada!!!!* IT'S XIAXUE. Think people have enough at work, dealing with people who speaks perfect English and shit that they want to relax and curse and swear along with her, as it is her wicked sense of humor. She's terribly funny and I love to drop by her blog every now and then.
Then I secretly compare myself to her. Her hits per day and my hits per day. Mine, too ashamed to show it out. Hers, proud and loud she can show. :( *Drops head and hide away in a corner while trying to come up with more devious plans on how to achieve what she had achieved.)
And now, as I said earlier, I want to sleep. Till now, 7.11am (just nice seven eleven~~~~it's a store and more - tune as McDonalds) I am still wide awake. I got to sleep now. More and more interesting stories to tell. I think my blog is more like a diary which I read only for the sake of correcting my English than a place to advertise anything.
So, yup! Pretty much went all the way out of point again and again. It have went all way out from an intentional joke on suicidal plans to serious topic of my character.
Speaking of which, I broke my own words again by having to continue what I am doing - obviously it is blogging.
One: Don't slash your wrist. You will never die from it. Not even when you amputate your arms. The arteries (they are major blood vessels that carries oxygenated blood into your body) would curl themselves up to prevent further blood loss. Unless you have an unusual case of blood thinning (this is rare though - in a humid place like Singapore with factors like fast moving cities and heavy work load... people cannot find the time to drink water) and your blood cannot clot, that's when you will bleed to death. So need not buy penknives to look cool (ah bengs out there like to think that Singapore very pai-kia one. Must have weapon to look cool. Teenage girls out there thinks that slashing one's own wrist is cool. A way to spread the "I'm-suicidal" mindset so ends up every student carries a penknife with them. They'd probably no pens but whenever you need a penknife, all you have to do is ask any one in school uniforms and you'll get what you asked for.)
In case plan one fails, start plan two: Classic charcoal, a confined area (don't forget to use old rugs to stuff the doors) and barbecue tray. Oxygen consumed by an average adult in area of an average lift size can last him a day. So, by the calculations of that Singapore's air oxygen takes up only 19.5 percent and one is using at the bloody rate of 21 percent oxygen and exhales 16 percent back into environment (you do the math) and it will take you about a bloody 7-8 hours before you faint and die due to carbon monoxide poisoning. But before you die, you will feel heaty and perhaps break out into heat rash (poor thing then. Immense itch plus pain) and have too suffer the stuffiness before you faint. That can be helped by using sleeping pills. But who's going to tend to the charcoals and keep them burning? You don't want your family to clean up after you, don't you. If you want to leave this world then leave it neatly, in my style, with no hassle to anyone. A neat and tidy death, blessed with the finest fact that no clean up have to be done. I can fantasize myself dying beautifully and my skin pure white and perfect. A perfect face for the mortuary cosmetology to paint on. I don't want to scare people away but I am aware of the fact that I am going to be stiff to the neck and cold and pale. Blood vessels no longer works..... Fucking tempts me to drain my life away. But FUCK IT. I got to try harder. That's why la. Die from carbon monoxide is the best. Pretty and neat. No mess except for ashes to clear. Which ends up creating more dust into the environment and asthma attacks would happen to the neighborhood kid or who-so-ever and get themselves killed! Fuck man! Then you are indirectly a murderer ghost that incidentally cause a death. So rule this out.
The sucky-est thing in life is that you are too fucking a bloody coward to jump from Marina Bay Sands and have to drive your own motivation so that you don't become a burden to your kins. Want and have the heart to end my life and all I end up picturing is hearing is toddlers rushing to me, bumping into my legs and very much like a "kindergarden" advertisement whereby kids surrounds you and you sort of sway to and fro in a gentle manner, thinking that a lot of babies didn't even get the chance to be born. A lot of murder cases had the victims calling to that they want to live. So, instead of throwing mine away, I learn to cherish it. *Steps down cowardly and hunches away despite my tall build that stands out in the crowd* Fuck my life for being an overly matured adult that completed her life by the age of 23. Only waiting for me, myself to save enough to beg IT Guy for his smarty-pants sperms and via injections, I can get myself pregnant. Which I wanted to do it but my Mom told me off and went crazy about it, upon my serious look and all. It was hilarious.
Ah, fuck this shit. I got to get some sleep but I am going to watch XINMSN'S CATCH UP TVs. Signing off at the early hour of 8.42am!
GooooooooooooD MORNING SINGAPORE!
The famous "Mari Kita" at 6am every morning on which ever Singapore television channel that you turn to has played it's piece. I've written too far from the suicidal plans and I could always just scroll up and write more pointers but nope. I am not going to give any ideas in you guys mind. Just in case I am accountable for a life!
I got plenty of funny and quirky twists to every of my suicidal plans, of which, most ends up with cowardice acts and the facts that after death, the clean up is going to hinder others and so on... Maybe to hold the funeral, my money may not be enough! Fuck! I forgot cleanly about this factor. Okay.... Daddy's account must add in additional twenty thousand bucks to cover for funeral. Shall work towards it. Meanwhile, I am calling up places looking for jobs all from the start again...
Can you wish me luck, although I had folded a Tupperware-full (about A5 paper size and height of a palm) of paper stars (I know how to do them in straws too and I even manage to figured out, faster than my Mom, how to sieve strings into lettered friendship bands okay!). I think lucky stars are not as lucky as they are, right? I mean from a slice of paper point of view, it's funny and ironic that I just wrinkled myself to make the master happy and transformed from 2D to 3D lucky star or heart. Tee hee. How cute can I be?
Anyway, I took my medicine but no effects of drowiness! How come? Today my medication is not effective. Lol.
BYE BUY. HEE HEE. RHYMING WORDS. IN CASE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE.
GOT TO STOP GIVING MYSELF EXCUSES TO BE IN A PLACE WHERE PEOPLE WOULD LOVE TO DISPOSE YOU AT. Like my job.... Fucking hate my bipolar. Another wave of helplessness... Byeeeeee... No longer hyped up and cheerful but still typing. Got to make my mechanical fingers stop doing what they are doing. But wait, it's getting out of control and that they are typing on their own!
Okay la. Everything have to come to an end. And I shall end it here. Do you mind if you could count the number of times I said I wanted to go and comment below? I am trying to get my HTML comment's code working and all. Anyway, I'd re-read my blog and do corrections in my handwritten diary instead of here because I am known for my bad English sentence structure. Or just plainly, in my thoughts.... Perfectionist tends to get a bit weird in the head due to too many drugs intake. Maybe this can get my Psychiatrist to stop giving me medicines and change it to therapies instead.
I REALLY HAVE TO GO. But I can't bear and afford to. Like my job, like this post. *Sighs really sadly* Good night.
But baby, where they knock you down and out
Is where you're oughta stay