what's your mode of transport?
mine is the sun.
when it rises dripping from
the sea when it falls like honey on
the trees when it swallows up
clouds my soul moves with it.
mine is you.
i like fridays, rainy days, proud cats, black & white photographs, children's books, short stories and movies that most people would never see. Music serves me justice on sad days (Adele, The Kooks, Mumford & Sons are gems) and genuine smiles are a must-have.
mates, dates & empty plates
8:11:00 PMbop to the top
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
the more i watch korean dramas, the more i have this intense desire to get on the next plane to seoul and marry the first korean boy i see. and eat KIMCHI. and have barbequed beef. and answer the phone with "Kamsayo? Kamsayo?!". and wishing to have roundround apple round cheeks.
oh. my mother and some of my friends are getting worried. no prizes for guessing about what. yes i know the clock is ticktockticking but stop pressuring the girl already! seriously people. time will come when the right one comes along and when the girl has had enough of living a blissful life independently on her own without the mindboggling act of keeping up with household expenses/chores/problems. until then.. let's hope the girl gets lucky like eun chan.
my soci tutorial class was discussing about the 'ideal' mate and my tutor was saying that our grandparents had it easy with arranged marriages because they didn't have to go through the whole process of who's compatible in terms of personality, looks, values etc. which i think is somewhat true because while we in the 21st century have more freedom, we are also making life more complicated by having to choose someone who DIEDIEMUST meet a set of conditions which are mostly so vague its almost silly: pleasant-looking (code word for super drop dead gorgeous), sociable (non-bimbotic), tall enough (as long as the girl can wear high heels without making the guy look dwarfish) etc.
crap. i suddenly have this image of myself with a messy bun wearing a grey smelly cardigan and feeding millions of cats in my lonely grandma-ish dark flat. and wearing woolen socks knitted by the deservingly blissfully married sylvia. and cat-eyed glasses donated by faith, the proud mother of prodigious kids. and listening to a happy japanese song presented by mello who has finally found her deepsea fish. and wearing below my cardigan a football jersey posted by shuwen who marries her zidane. and eating food donated by vk when she opens up her franchise with her ah boy. it feels like the part in Peter Pan when before Captain Hook gets swallowed by the crocodile with the clock in its belly, he says "Old. Alone. Unloved". sedih lah.
okay sorry. i get like this when valentine's day comes round. but i'm not gonna be alone on that day! oh please. it's not what you're thinking. going out with my single friends (our numbers at our so-what-if-its-vday-&-we-don't-get-flowers-from guys-but-we'ld-get-one-for-ourselves-anyway gatherings are dwindling as the days/months/years go by) does not constitute a date.
on another random note,
tying french braids on my head without having at least 167 more arms is tiring work. i really don't know how these other people do it.
and i need to start jogging already. even though the national university of stairs is already giving me a workout, some people are complaining that my "input is more than the output". which is sadly very true.
ok. shall. start.
or tomorrow tomorrow.
and even though my plain features & unremarkable personality are not on the same level as his gorgeousgorgeous looks and his charismatic playful boyish personality portrayed in his korean dramas (who is btw even adored by my mother who loves him in a i-wish-he-was-my-son-in-law type of way),
I STILL WANT TO MARRY GONG YOO. please. haha.
alrighty then. byebye now. FRONT IS STARTING! thank goodness its half-day tmr but i haven't found my social work readings yet which means i'ld be unprepared for tutorials again. sigh. my 'it's okay still got next time' attitude scares me.
oh oh! and Happy Chinese New Year! Gong Xi Fa Cai, Xin Nian