Come Hither.

Satin.




For the sake of Your Mother, here goes all or nothing;

Hope ; Who am I to say

Love of my life, my soulmate
You're my best friend
Part of me like breathing
Now half of me is left

I don't know anything at all
Who am I to say you love me
I don't know anything at all
& who am I to say you need me

Color me blue I'm lost in you
Don't know why I'm still waiting
Many moons have come & gone
Don't know why I'm still searching

Don't know anything at all
& who am I to say you love me
I don't know anything at all
& who am I to say you need me

(hums)

Now you're a song I love to sing
Never thought it feels so free
Now I know what's meant to be
& that's okay with me

But who am I to say you love me
& who am I to say you need me
& who am I to say you love me

(hums)

I don't know anything at all
& who am I to say you love me
I don't know anything at all
& who am I to say you need me
I don't know anything at all

I don't know anything at all
I don't know anything at all
I don't know anything at all











The feeling of being okay, does not imply that the person has risen above all his faults and emotional problems. It merely implies that he refuses to be paralyzed by them.






The rain don't last.

Cyberchrondriac.



It's bloody 2.00 AM right now. I can't sleep. I am starving despite the fact I just ate merely three hours ago. My mind's dead. But my body's fully energized to click 3 km on the treadmill.



Twenty minutes of turning in bed, I give up.




Milk tea for brunch, coffee for lunch, tea-kopi for dinner. There is more than sufficient caffeine to kill a mother cow. A bull even.


Breaking dawn. I wonder where all the birds went.







And the hunger pangs are getting quite unfunny.



Duct tape roses.

Many moons.




It's been long since I had a proper intellectual talk. The usuals were trannies' talks. Don't get me wrong, am in no tranny clan. But having mix around with trannies ( and a man-abe ) for sometime now, tends to make you a tranny in a form or another. Manly, too. So, thank you, Glen. Refreshing, this one.





Trannies' day out tomorrow. But I'll be meeting Dhevani and Tx first. Like, after two years? Must go, man.



Okay, I think I developed a rash, out of nowhere. Suppose it's the overdose of turkey. Yea, turkey poisoning. Trust me to contract the funniest disease ever. Plague magnet, holy mothers (!!)




I think, long holidays, desperate job searches, latenights, insomia? They come in a package. And they're out to make eyebags and dark circles your worst nightmare. Hell, my eyebags and dark circles put all my concealors to shame. To hell with fat-faced me. I'm going out with my cap tomorrow. Don't ask. Bad hair day is what I foresee.




Status:
Lynette Underpants is currently battling it out with Fringe Godzilla, Tiko Eye Bags, Ping Pong Circle and Fishball Cheeks
on i-SCREWTURKEYS.com, and is on the verge of digging out her eyeballs.






Hope's Who am I to say, is the newest earworm.






Everyone should watch Chasing Amy. And no, I didn't say that because Alyssa Jones was a lesbian-identified woman in the movie. But because it's good.



Say for eg.,

Jay: Man, why do you always have to tell that fuckin' gay story for?
Silent Bob: Man, shut up.
Jay: You shut up, you fat fuck!


Mm, suppose fat fuck sounds decent enough?





I love you. and not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. And it's not because you're unattainable. I love you. Very simply, very truly. You're the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person.

{ Chasing Amy. }





Seriously, ask me to imagine myself dating again, I can't. So when I watch a romance chick flick, I get goosebumps. And here I am, questioning if young dating couples know what it's like to be sick of being in love; of believing in love.


Say, isn't it all a matter of perspectives?





I've a feeling I'm gon' turn out as one of them Anti-Marriage women. And at this rate I'm going, with this mindset, at age thirty-five, I'll be begging my dad to rent me a room in his apartment. And my mom will desperately try to wed me off. To some chicken rice seller, perhaps? What, at least I get free chicken rice to eat everyday okay? Kampong chicken, leh! Better still, to Boon Tong Kee's great great great great grandson, successor of his many outlets.






Is Boon Tong Kee even a person?






Who am I to say?

Back then.




Holy mothers (!!) Cardio is kick-butt. Did so many sets today I lost count. Weights are killer. I had difficulty shampooing my hair because everything felt wobbly.

I think I work out too much because the injuries from the old track days are acting up. Cursed knees and ankles, must be all the hurdling. I always knew those darn hurdles are up to no good. See, see! Exactly my point.

Lynette, admit it, you're just plain lazy.

Okay. I'm lazy : /





I'm either crazy flushed, otherwise I must have overworked myself, somehow affecting the barely-there brain. I talked to Mr Bartender today after he made Sex On The Beach. That sounds wrong. After he made the cocktail Sex On The Beach, I beg your pardon.



Me: Can I have some murukoo please?
Mr Bartender: *left hand shake cocktail, right hand scoop a cup full of murukoo*

Ten minutes later ...

Me (scapegoat): Hello. My asshole friends want somemore.
Mr Bartender: KNN. SI GINAHS. EAT SO MANY MURUKOO. WTF. CHOKE AND DIE BETTER. I WORK HERE SO LONG, NOTHING TO EAT SO I KOPE ALL THE MURUKOO AND EAT FOR BREAKFAST, DINNER, LUNCH SIA. POORTHING LIKE DUNNO WHAT SHIT. SEX ON THE BEACH NOT ENOUGH SIBOH? STILL MUST EAT SO MUCH MURUKOO. MY MURUKOO. CHEEBS.



Okay, joke joke.

It went more like this ...

Mr Bartender: asdfghjkl;
/smash beer bottle and stab self repeatedly.



Anyway, I seriously think he wanted to bash me. What up with the whole murukoo eating spree yo. It would be a miracle we didn't finish the whole tub man. I don't get it. Murukoo tastes like fried taopok, lah. Maybe it's just me.


And what the hell is make the both of us scapegoats because we pangseh you guys for satay spree, huh, Cedrick (?!)

We'll battle it out at gym tomorrow. Not.






Okay. This is it. I'm going to buy a diary for my dad. Having raise me for eighteen years, close nineteen, it is time I do something for my folks. It's now or never. Now is not yet too late. So let now be it.

Sialahxz, act philos.
Cannot is it?





I think I belong to the borderline case of Major Identity Crisis. Because I like going shopping with guys. And no, I don't drag them out to carry paperbags or whatever guys are expected to do. Instead, I follow them to shop for their manly stuff. Shirts, formals, tees, jeans, ties, name it. And secretly, I like it when they ask for my opinions. I feel ... respected. Trust me, I'm that close to cross-dressing.




Bogus, is correct. I need to sleep it off. My body aches.






Believe it, because I just typed this post in my semi-conscious state. Pigs will fly tonight.






Massive Break.

Born in the niffy.




Y'know what? The difference between a boy fresh out of camp, is that he actually misses home-cooked food. On the other hand, a boy out of nowhere, prefers eating out. The obvious nature in the thinking.


So, guess who booked out today?







Gravity.

I'm black and blue and pink for you.




Christmas, was absolutely fanatic, I say! It's a pity not to get out there and feel the spirit. Okay, I know I previously said that Singapore sordidly lacked the Christmas atmosphere. I take that back. Sordidly, is a strong word.

Or maybe I was just over the moon having found a huge parcel at the foot of the door, having almost tripped to death over it.

At the rate this is going, you're going to seriously spoil me, bad.



This Christmas, I thank the stars that I found my way back into the simple things in life. Day to day, just getting by, counting the sheep and the highway signs. That's just fine. Driving around the city in your car, down low in the seat. Coming home and getting into bed, smiling in my sleep tonight.

Thrill of a secret love affair, maybe?

And I must say, the city is pretty empty despite Christmas.



Okay. The euphoria and the intensity combine, made my chest tighten a little, having to victimise myself into verbal diarrhoea mode, knowing he won't be able to find his way here, no doubt. So in a way, good way perhaps, I can verbalise my every thought, without him having to know. Which he badly wants to. Which is cool. Because he can't.




And I've enough turkey to make me anti-turkey for a few months now. Oh, log cake too.




Suppose I'm a little tipsy from all the wine tonight. I should turn in soon. Driving tomorrow. And I wonder how I'm suppose to wake up then.




Gee, I'm all flushed. Wasted. Elated. That sort of emotional rush that make Cloud Nine an understatement tonight.



All is said, cheers.







Toffee Shortbread with a little touch.

T-shirt's lost its smell.




Dear Santa,

He was my life for so long. I couldn't let go, for so long indeed. Nobody understood why I held on. All anybody saw was me crying and how he treated me like shit. What they didn't see was the passion in his eyes for anything good. And that he was anything but selfish. He has a lot going on in his mind. All of the time. Mental turmoil. I blamed him a lot but now I'm coming to terms, understanding him. I, myself, have a lot of issues. A lot of damage. I know what it's like to not be able to look at the one you're with because you don't feel good enough for anyone. He was the love of my life, my first love, my everything. And he always will be.

I wish nothing but happiness for him, although he caused me so much pain. He's a good guy despite what everyone may say or think of him. He has one of the biggest beating hearts I've ever come across. He can build me up and tear me down. But if you see in his eyes what I see, then you know he didn't do it just because he had to, but he wanted to. He's lost. He has been for quite some time now. You can tell in his writing that he's been walking down this hall for a great time now and he's not even close to the end.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have reasons to believe that as much as you love someone, it doesn't necessarily mean you are right for each other. As much as you're waiting for this perfect time that will never come, you are not meant to be. I will go on in my life knowing that this beautiful being has entered and left my life. His ghost will always remain in my soul, and I carry him everywhere with me. But I will get on with my life, hoping and praying that everyday is a little easier for him. I wouldn't be the person I am today without him. And I love who I am.

Maybe life has bigger plans for me, but I hope that his plans include three times as much happiness as mine does. He does deserve it. Life kicks him down everyday and he is still standing, fighting even. I admire him, so much. I'm in love with the passion in his eyes and the kindness in his soul. The kind I wish I had. He's beautiful.

So Santa, I just want to let him know that November never felt so cold, and December this empty. But come January, all be fine, all be fine.


Merry Christmas, Santa.
May it snow.





Merry Christmas, world.







Must go on.

Amnesia.






When someone promised you forever says, "I never loved you," it should kill you instantly. You shouldn't have to wake up day after day, trying to understand how in the world you didn't know.


Maybe you still don't.








If I was a simple man, would we still walk hand in hand? And if I suddenly went blind, would you still look in my eyes? What happens when I grow old? And all my stories have been told? Will your heart still race for me? Or will it march to a new beat? If I was a simple man, would you still stand by my side? And would our flame still burn so bright? And I could make you understand, there'd be no reason to think twice. You'd be my sun; you'd be my light.



If only you were a simple man.






Remembering Friday..

Tuck Everlasting.




Who do you want to be? Or would you rather die here tonight? This is an empty mural of cubicles and apparel. Draw business with syringes, a stethoscope can hear the faint ticks of a nine to five. Have you ever seen a life much sadder? But still, you climb.

You're like a perfect day to me, but I watch you walk away and I didn't catch your name. Heavy hearted until you call my name; it sounded like church bells or the whistle of a train on a summer evening. I'll run to meet you, barefoot, barely breathing.

In a city of love, my, we really had fun.






Shallow as shallow does, the theory of big behinds is concluded with the constant rampage of hypermart trolleys on one's behind, needless to say, permanantly scarring one's big beautiful behind.


KNN, said I.





His documented bruises.

Drawings on the walls.



Y'know how in Heroes, Ted would go, "I'm radioactive,"

Yours Truly, on the other hand, goes, "I'm cancerous," Indeed, so. I say that all the time now, but in a joking manner, of course. What up? Life is nothing but a joke, ain't it?



I went checking out wines with Uncle Skinny, and he got two bottles. And were haunting high, low, behold, for Waraku of some sort. Situated at some ulu pandan location. I highly doubt they make business where they are. Well, Uncle Skinny looks good with his hair all grown. Why, everyone looks older than I am. Life, ain't fair.


Charlie the Unicorn woke up at two plus, for God's sake. And took three hours to groom himself, shit, bathe, brush teeth, pee, poop, take train, shave, whatever. Holy mothers (!!) I only take two hours, the most. Gee, guys.

Well, he settled his coffee debt, and in return, now I owe him a treat. Amazing, because him being in the service sector for quite some time now, has this thing about pouring drinks for people. Perhaps, over time, it gets innated. So I didn't have to pour my own drink, refill, in other sense. He kept completing my sentences, render me speechless. And off to work he went. Nightshift; he's a man-whore.

I'm tired of all the walking today. Where's the rain, yo?





"Dear Lyn,
Read all about it. You're not fooling anyone. 'Cause I've kept quiet for awhile now. I won't sit and watch you die. It kills me to see this, when I've known you this far and now you look as if you've already died. The cure for this disease, it's all up to you. Is life worth living? Are we worth loving?
Love, Ben."


Hello, Ben, and the world. I'm not scared of this, yo. A phase of life, you get a little scare here and there. What up? Honestly, I don't feel cancerous. Y'know how blood tests literally test for everything faulty in you? I'm not afraid of death, lymphoma, etc. It's just like, bio ethics? Where people fear knowing their genetic faults or sorts? Yea, that's what scares me.

To think I was all "what up" and "to hell" with bio ethics during A's. So now I figured it's purpose. And have stopped discrimating anti-blood testers. I'm now a guinea pig. The hospital has the details. Details in the fabric, you say? Probably so. Violation, indeed.



I keep thinking of Queensland. What up? With just two days there? Must be the weather. Yea, blame it on the weather. Fine, I'll gym tomorrow.



Oh, looky. Dog fight, so goodbye. I've a Peacemaker role to play now. Two dogs and a peacemaker. In a house. Under one roof. Holy mothers (!!) The world is coming to an end.






Creases on patches.

Fixation.


I feel like I'm on that one ride at the fair. The one that you sit in and they spin you. I keep spinning this damn ride, making it harder on myself than I should, but I don't know how to stop. I can no longer wait until someone or something just grabs me, just grips me up and makes all of it come to a halt. The whole world will still be spinning, but I know that I'm standing still. I know the ride is over. I know I'm going to be alright.



I ignored the urge to fiddle with the bumps, fearing. But it's getting quite pressing, especially on the nerves. All these head and back aches are nothing but ordinary.

If going out and the whole ignorant pretense enables my folks to divert their attention elsewhere more purposeful, I'll gladly be.

Of course, pain or otherwise, tolerance level of Thee is pretty high, let's say. I'll just be stoning and/or silent during moments of agony, per se.


The mom was so willing yet reluctant to watch me go today. Willing because I'm still the usual, looking forward to hanging out with Wx & Bea. Reluctant because I'll be under the sun. I was nevertheless, made to bring my jacket. Just in case.

Sentosa's sun was scorching. But I had to stay out of it, ironically. Shades, brolly, sunblock, cap, name it.



So how am I feeling now?


Like I just woke up from a really good dream, and try to get back to sleep? And like I've got the flu and promised I will appreciate normal so much more, if I can just get back to it? That's the way I feel. I just want things to go back to the way they were. Right back to the very start. Before things and people change.



There are many things I've yet to do, so many words left unspoken. So many people I've yet to meet. So many aspirations and let downs to handle. Dreams to accomplish, aid to lend, courage to face, sacrifices to make, soulmate to find, love to shower, and myself to give.

I promise you, I'll come out of this turmoil, scare or no scare, a stronger being.



But I like scares like these. They make me see death as something too soon and abrupt. Life was cut short with the coming of death. And we're all pawns on the board of death. Checkmate is one's destiny.




Letters to nowhere.

Matter of fact.



The dad thinks it's serious and the mom's crying. Lessen the tension, I did. But I'm not brave. And I'm not strong. It's may be just a blood test tomorrow, rather, today. What I fear, is the outcome. I understand now, how bliss ignorance can actually be.


This is life, so they say.




Home tattoo.

Please.


Hodgkin's Lymphoma;

Causes

The first sign of this cancer is often an enlarged lymph node which appears without a known cause. The disease can spread to nearby lymph nodes and later may spread to the lungs, liver, or bone marrow.

The cause is not known. Hodgkin's lymphoma is most common among people 15-35 and 50-70 years old.

Symptoms

1. Fatigue
2. Fever and chills
3. Generalized itching
4. Loss of appetite
5. Night sweats
6. Painless swelling of the lymph nodes in the neck, armpits, or groin (swollen glands)
7. Weight loss

Additional symptoms that may be associated with this disease

1. Clubbing of the fingers or toes
2. Excessive sweating
3. Flank pain
4. Hair loss
5. Neck pain
6. Skin blushing or flushing
7. Splenomegaly




Hesitant for so long, I decide to just go down to the doctor's. Because this isn't about "wasting money" anymore. It may very well cost me my life.

Checked up on all the medical procedures, and the cost. Honest to heart, if worse come to worse, I'm rejecting treatment. Take whatever healthy organs I have. And I suppose I'm of legal age to opt for euthanesia.

Besides, I always wanted to write a eulogy for myself.
Put GP to good use, no doubt. Haha!



Cheers.



dear ben,

Say what?



I need a diary. Months to come, I'll be packed. Lo and behold, malfunctioned as I am, but employed, nevertheless. I've a job now. Woohoo, is correct.


Nigel is coming back and high tea we will. Charlie the Unicorn wants to clear his coffee debt. Uncle Skinny is somewhere, dating somehow. Ben is everywhere. Su and gang this week, and Wx and Bea again this Thursday/ Friday. Weekends, gym. This is great, I mean, maybe this is what Charlie said about "getting my ass out to ... party".

So I foresee a pleasant 2009.



It's been what, four days? I miss Joshua and Daniel, like, really alot. Especially Joshua. Intellectual guy, he is. Braces Boy is actually called Myron, as I've found out. Still shy, no doubt.



To be frank, I've been avoiding gym for certain reason. There's this really weird VJ guy who instead of working out, insists on dancing with weights. Like, wtf? And everytime he does that, he goes from one end of the room to the other, and back again. So when he does that, it's either I trip on my own foot, or I get static on the treadmill. Such a distraction. It looked so ridiculous it's getting quite unfunny. And he has to jiggle his wriggle beside my treadmill. Maybe because the mirror is there and I was working on the last treadmill, but so? Like, jiggle your wriggle somewhere else. What up man? Laoniangxz need to work out too. Julian says he is a dancer, which is quite the expected. He can join Uncle Gay Dancer. Oh, power is he, this Uncle Gay Dancer. He does those ridiculous hand thing while he runs okay? Like, y'know, Dragonball? That ahdugun action with fireball spitting bull crap? Ya. He does that. Like, five billion times. For three hours. Along goes his head. Sway left, right, left ... and repeat cycle x 10 gazillion. I was like, holy mothers (?!)

Like, stab me.
What up, is right.

It's okay. I'll wait for the weekends to gym. Staring at those two in action, simultaneously, can burn you five days worth of calories.




He became sloppy fat, she looked like a transsexual. Perfect combination. Charlie sends his condolences. He missed out on everything. Sorry, couldn't video taped it though, Magical One. You'll spot him around school though, so fret not. And Ben, you should be choking on this right now. I love you man. Both of you. So when I get married, you can be my bridesmaid and/or bestman.





On a serious note, cliche or not, I'm saying it.

dear ben,
I'll miss you. Truly. You know that, don't you? Guardian Angel, now, now, don't you break. It's your turn to shine.


I'd stare a lifetime into your eyes, so I know that you were there for me. Time after time, you were there for me.

So I'll miss you, the tough one, acid tongue or not, but you, with the soft heart.



The dawn has come into the endless night and everything's going to be alright. But at thirty years of age, through frolic and in rage, all regressed and healed in time. I'll be here a while.

That's your symphony. Fourteen shades of gray, please bear that in mind.


For me, at least.
You promised.




Smile, empty soul.

Are you jaded.


My bestie, lesby, bestie friend got herself a Facebook! Yes, she is also an anti-Friendster, or what do you call that, Friendster-hater? So holla, Facebook.

Anyway, I know it's pretty early now, but I'm up, nevertheless. Insomia has gotten the better of me, now and for months to come. Insomnia has gotten much the usual because I could only bare crawling back under the covers at three am, or there about. And it was only at three that they said to leave me to lay, but that touch me deep. Because I don't sleep, I dream. I'll settle for a cup of coffee but you won't know what I really need.

And besides, I had a horrid dream. About this woman who had to undergo Caesarian and for God knows what reason the doctor decided to remove the entire top layer of her skin instead of slicing her open. And I was supposedly some invisible third party because I remembered saying "Fucking hell, no shit!" loud and clear in my dream but apparently nobody heard me. Maybe I was sleep-talking, or maybe not because I was quite awake throughout dawn. Kid you not, but I wasn't watching any gore movies yesterday. So what up with the dream man, seriously ...


Indeed, bizarre as I always will be.


Oh yay! I am in a good mood today. Because it is raining, that means no sun, holy mothers! Of course, I shouldn't be getting too excited or so, because it is still quite the early morning. And (!!) I am going to meet my bestie lesby bestie friend around 11 or so. Bea couldn't come because she has to work! Zomfg, Wx, I remember why Bea can't come already, because she has to work! She has to work! SHE HAS TO WORK! Gee, can you imagine? I actually forgot the reason. How stupid can I get, honestly ...


Anyway, I keep lingering around Borders hoping to waste my life away. Not. So, I bought myself a book, and realized it is quite a pleasant way to waste money. I'm quite the nerd, you see. It's just two days and I'm done with the book. Perfect. Nevertheless, I suppose I would be making trips down there more often than not because the sound of boredom is getting a little too loud.


And I have to study for Theory Test. What up with circles, and rectangles, squares and triangular signs? I mean, seriously, don't you just follow those vehicles in front of you rather than read those signs? Imagine, you're driving, and in order to figure out what that sign is from deep inside your memoirs bank, not realizing you've stopped your vehicle, you'll be obstructing traffic. And if I were the driver behind you, I'll ram your car. Honestly, I will.

Whatever the case, man, I still have to study for it. And that stinks.






As promised,
Coffee Personas;
The Coffee Fashionista

Miss Coffee Fashionista knows the A to Z about coffee, from her collection of filters, French presses to vacuum pots. She brews coffee like she dances ballet and views the process of brewing as an art form.

Miss Coffee Fashionista is driven by compulsion in her pursuit of 'the perfect cup' and thinks that the right to fine coffee ranks among the 'Save the Earth' campaigns and 'Stop Extinction' movements. She will flaunt her knowledge to the apathetic waiter at the cafe taking her orders, and probe through her inch-thick glasses on where the beans are from, when the beans are roasted and how the coffee will be brewed.

How to spot the 'Coffee Fashionista'?
She will ask to taste the coffee before buying, and will demand for only freshly roasted beans.
She frequents cafes that serve gourmet coffee like the coffee connoisseur (TCC), and indulges in only the finest selection like the Blue Mountain.
She will bring along her own collection of coffee and French presses on vacations and when visiting, and most certainly demands her host to get themselves proper coffee brewing equipments.



I say, shut the hell up and drink your damn coffee.




Jim Jones, Harlem's American Gangster.

Indiana.



Have I ever mentioned? I have the World's Most Easily Bribe Brother.

Me: Keith, Dad ask you to get ... and take Ryan's clothes out into the laundry basket. Oh, and help me carry this, please.
Keith: No.
Me: Dark Cherry Mocha, frappe, with extra shot.
Keith: Okay.


All it takes is $7.50.



Shamelessly so, I've bribed him more than the total strands of hair on one's head. And pubic hair combined.


Jealous, is correct.
I am such a manipulative sister.




I'm sick of having to clear my inbox full of junk mail. Can I ask a question? Why is it that some people are still using Friendster? Not trying to imply they are tech-noobs, because that would be "the kettle calling the pot black" or whichever comes first.

It's just that Facebook is more purposeful in many ways. Friendster seemingly may die out anytime soon, I hope. Anyway, I never liked Friendster. So right you are, I am biased against it.

Now, let's just be nice people, delete your stinky Friendster account, sign up for Facebook, and we'll battle it out on Pirate Land. You can be my vampire, and I can be your werewolf.

And inactivate that email-sending shit that urge me forcefully to sign up for Friendster. Because I won't. So stop it already. Before I smack you with my Facebook.




Here, since I am so bored while the youthful ones are busing themselves with homework, which I must admit, I kind of miss having to hold a pen and wriggle myself into a comfy big cushion, bustling away with coffee. Now that I've no school to look forward too ( which I am extremely thankful for, because I dread school, even until now ), that means no homework, and that also means hell boredom. I'll find stuff to busy myself with, of course, so fret not.

As I was saying, bored. Even as I typed the word, it doesn't seem right. No matter how I tried to mouth it, it's just weird, coming from Lynette's mouth, that is. Funny, because I seldom get bored. Probably tired thereof, but never bored. See how empty-handed contorts one?


I shall babble no further and present to you an amazing discovery (!!)



Coffee Personas;

You can possible figure out a person by his or her coffee drinking behaviour. And whether or not you are a coffee drinker, you will most likely interact with one or more persons with the following personas:


The Serial Coffee Addict a.k.a. 'The Godfather'

The Godfather maintains a love-hate relationship with coffee - he loves coffee as much as money and hates to admit that he cannot go by a single day without coffee.

The Godfather needs his fix more than he needs water, has a discriminating palette for the mediocre cuppa and he will snort at coffee brewed with fine grind.

How to spot the 'Godfather'?
He guzzles down his coffee like an isotonic drink.
He buys coffee from TCC by the dozens.
He claims that caffeine has no effect on him even if he drinks 6 to 7 cups daily.



Since I used to have traits of 'The Godfather', I suppose that makes me 'The Godmother'. Now, everybody, kowtow.


There are three more coffee personas, which I am obviously very, very lazy to type as you can see the one persona mentioned, or lack thereof.

I'll present to you another one with the next entry.



ben > two words says:
just because you have to let him go doesn't mean that you won't think about him every step you take away from him



Maybe Ben's right. In my past coming to two years relationship, my future spouse was him. All I could see was him. I plan my future with him in it, putting him first in all my plannings - first priority, nevertheless. No doubt, though it wasn't the case for the other side, sadly enough. Naturally, when I think about this, it still pains my heart.

But judging from how much displeasure and hatred even, emitting from him, I suppose this huge misunderstanding, whatever it is, can never be justified. Of course, never expecting that kind of reaction, I almost ended up hating him instead. Countless times I weigh the things he did to upset me, and I to him, I lamented. It's a pity things had to turn out this way, with no means of justification, and it just lingers. No doubt, there are many things I want to ask, but seeing him moved on, always so happy, so carefree, and spreading his infectious laughter, I would rather not.

Ben, maybe holding back isn't a good thing, but say, hasn't it always been one-sided somehow? Haha.


Christmas is coming, of course, I wish for a clearance and appreciation, both ways. Wishful thinking on my part, always. But I believe in dreaming.





Singapore sordidly lacks the Christmas atmosphere, badly. Shut up with carols already.




Looks Department.

Jet Lag.


The bitch/ lesbian is back.



So what have I been up to, you say? Pretty much, actually. The first few days were with S because we went down to check out our his potential college. I was being a real bitch, wanting to sit down every ten steps or so, or getting something cold to drink. I swear there were at least five billion times S wanted to bash my head, like, really hard. Anyway, the weather was really nice. Summer, but it was way windy. I made S get me sunblock because I went to put my face moisturizer on my skin, thinking it worked the same somehow, and got an allergy reaction. I was scratching like I had fleas or something, so in order to save his face, he had no choice either. Bahaha!


It's just the two of us actually. Because my family already went to Korea and were visiting some island thing, and his in some other part of the world. Anyway, I was well-fed, well-treated, so don't worry. S may be a male slut, but he can be nice sometimes. So we parted, and I met up with the tour group at Seoul's arrival hall. My plane was early, so I walked around, hoping to buy whatever thing there was with whatever amount of Korean won I had.


And Ben, be thankful. I thought of you, and being a Starbucks die-hard fan, I got you a mug from Seoul. With whatever won I had. This is for being so mean to you back then.


Basically my trip was really long and tiring, and yes, it was snowing almost everyday. Joshua and Daniel were really cute, especially Joshua. He's a little screwed up and he stares at you without shame. Like, literally stare through you. And there's his cousin, Raymond, I think. Never got his name because he's so shy of his braces. Of course, needless to say, braces will always be my soft spot.

Although the first few days I wanted to bash him up because he was so darn shy it was getting on my nerves. And maybe it's because he resembled someone. Anyway, hate to leave people out so I went up to him and was like, "Are you always this shy or something?" Wrong move on Cute Braces Boy because he was definitely shocked. So he said he is in SP, Chemical Engineering, if I remembered clearly.


Oh, and I sat with Joshua on this Gyro machine that swirls while it swings you 180 degrees. Only Joshua and I were daring enough. Seriously, just his actions alone can make me die laughing.


In the middle of the ride, 150 degrees in the air ...
Joshua: Ha ha ha ha ha.
Lynette: Zomfg, Joshua!
Joshua: Ha ha ha ha ha.
Lynette: Joshua, JOSHUAAAHHHH (!!)
Joshua: Ha ha ha ha ha.
Lynette: *gave up*

And then after the ride, when I realised he was laughing, not crying, I was like asdfghjkl;

I mean, if he went laughing normally, say, out of excitement or hyperventilation, fine. But his laughter or whatever that sound was, sounded like "Haggah haggah agah ha ha ha" Like he was choking on something. Of course I was worried. For God's sake, we're in mid air man. Even if Laoniangxz needs to resuccitate you, however could I? Gee, Joshua and his sinister laughter.



Anyway, no matter how cute they are, Braces Boy especially, once again, need to remind you where the heart will always be. Give time, give time.



Okay, honestly, I finally felt I belonged because everyone there is so fair. And if you looked close enough, no pimples, no wrinkles. Why? They hardly go under the sun for direct tanning. And I think boys with fair skin do look a hell lot cleaner, more kempt and groomed than tanned guys. Fair skin boys can also have good bodies, mind you. And people, embrace your small eyes. Oriental roots yo! I've decided, I will be nobody's bronze babe anymore! For the sake of my ageing years, I quit!



So welcome back, Lynette, with your humongous luggage full of clothings for two seasons. Welcome back to your small little homeland of no roots. Merlion, you say? FYI, the Merlion was created by the Tourism Board because Singapore has no national icon. What kind of history can you derive from a lion-looking fish, or fish-looking lion? That we're mutants of the lion-looking fish, or fish-looking lion? Seriously ... so where's my mane?




Fine. So I crap up some bullshit about where I went, told them to cover up, my bad. But seriously, like it mattered anyway? I mean, I was indirectly told to fuck out of his life, wasn't I? So fucking out is what I did. I'll lie at all cost. I'll make them lie too. He doesn't need to know what is going on in my life. Doesn't matter.



"What's the heaviest thing in the world?"
A blue whale?
"Nope. The heaviest thing."
A sky scraper?
"Nope."
A mountain? A mountain range?
"Nope."
I give up.
"A secret. A secret is the heaviest thing in the world."

{ Honey, Baby, Sweetheart. }







Yes, I got Charlie ( the Unicorn ) Kimchi seaweed, Bea and Wx bears from Teddy Bear Museum, and many more. The list goes on ... Glen, Ben and gym mates.





Y'know, I secretly wished for a partner whom I could go travelling with in the near future, early or late twenties. Say, I think it'll be a perfect get-away of some sort. Someone to look after me while I'm miles away from home, someone whom I can believe then and know will look after me for the rest of my life. For real.


Oh, a dreamer's cheap thrills.



P.S. I realized I have a frequent visitor and yes, hello, I do know who you are because I can trace you right down to your webpage. Anyhoo, I see you like my writing style, and my taste in music. Go ahead, it's fine, you can rip whatever you want. Just leave a tag, be polite. Thank you. And yes, it's my honor.







I am really bad at remembering names without faces. For a moment, I forgot who Benson was. Man, I'm so sorry. But I remembered once I saw his invitation and the profile picture. I'm ageing, badly.

In, say, three months time, I'll be nineteen. Wtf, freakin' 19? One year short of a two in front of my age. And then very quickly, everyone is getting married and having their own family in their late twenties. Time flies, doesn't it? And you'll never know when you're going to die, whether you have the fortune to reach the age to witness the beauty of life. The warmth of being loved, the passion of loving someone. Till your very last breath. And finally, leaving the Earth like an accomplished man. Empty handed like how you were when you were given life, but satisfied. Very indeed. Blessed are those.




Jet lagged, need to accustom myself. Pardon the lengthy rant.
Goodnight, folks.











cheers, that's me






Details in the Fabric.

If you seek Amy.



Time stands still for no one, well, I know this is true. I've been stuck here waiting, then you came along. And you, you gave me back the love I had, the faith I'd lost, the life I knew.

So I fell, and you laughed. But you helped me up, then whispered, "It's okay, baby, I still love you."

Through post cards, side kicks, super marts, and second chances?
Oh, I will run to you.





She finally met a man that's gonna put her first.

{ Breakeven } ; Earworm.



cheers, lynette.



And if you see her.

One man drinking games.



As I read the words you wrote last night, the butterflies are creeping through my spine. I was caught in an awkward silence, broken down by the sound of your prelude that you played to open our symphony. As I hear the words you're saying tonight, I'm falling for them every single time. And this is where my heart is cold and torn, as the roses dip their heads a little further to the ground. So I'll waste these nights for a while. 'Cause we don't want to fall for us.




Has anybody noticed how difficult it is to get a CD in Singapore? Even the salesperson never heard of the artist you want, so don't tell me to search for the genres. Because the real talents can handle any genre equally well. Genre-division is too vague, I say.

As for now, the only solution is to send an SOS to my magical unicorn!

I think, everybody should check out Graham Colton Band. They play great acoustic, though sad enough, I could hardly find it in Gramophone, HMV ( I gave up at the second level ) and That CD Shop. Seek alternatives, you say? Yea, I think so too. My unicorn, lor!




The White Tie Affair.

Making April.


You touch these tired eyes of mine. And map my face out line by line. And somehow growing old feels fine. I listen close for I'm not smart, you wrap your thoughts in works of art. And they're hanging on the walls of my heart. My knees went weak and you saw me cry. Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes.


good morning.


Daytripper.