one bad paper allows one to scream and yell in expletives one would never otherwise use in one's staid and boring life. one bad paper calls for the drowning of one's sorrows in sweet, sinful things and the incessant whining and declarations that the world is going to end.
a second consecutive bad paper just doesn't warrant any of that anymore. the world isn't gonna end, no more expletives left to throw out on whim.
just.. a sinking feeling that one is going to fail the semester because 3 A+s aren't gonna save one's sorry ass, IF an A+ was even in one's grasp in the first place.
today's bus conversation with Dee, Yisi and Chels was quite thought provoking.
do i believe in my one and only soulmate?
i think once upon a deluded time, i did. and i would like to. but then how would it even be remotely possible to find the One And Only For Me in Singapore, tiny little Singapore barely even a hundredth of the global population? therefore i say, perhaps my One and Only is a hot dude in some unpronouncable country, just that he's pretty much undiscovered to me for now.
and then i thought, what if i lived out my life thinking i was gonna eventually find someone right for me to spend the rest of my life with, only to realise at 30 that it's probably never gonna happen? what does one do when one realises something as life-altering as that? does one decide to enter the life of a religious sister? or does one take to travelling the world because after all, the world is my oyster and i am its pearl. does one turn to dating websites in a desperate effort to try to ditch one's undesirable 'left on the shelf' status?
loneliness is a scary concept that i probably wouldn't be able to deal with, for all my self-sufficiency and need for alone time. if i had so much alone time on my hands, i'd be wanting to convert some of it to time with someone else.
anyway. am reading
Man and Boy by Tony Parsons now. funny how i started reading again when the exams began. i think i wasted a lot of my sem away, whiling my time away doing totally not productive things. i should've been reading, dammit. at least if i don't have a wonderful rosy love life in real life, i could've been cooing over someone else's wonderful rosy love life among the pages of my paperbacks.
and a thought occured to me as i was in bed reading this afternoon.
people sound so much sexier and nicer on print. the descriptives of ordinary female characters in books always make them sound like gorgeouser-than-thou goddesses or starlets.
brown hair is never just brown; it's chocolate silk.
black hair isn't ever just black; it's jet black and midnight sky.
blue eyes aren't ever just blue; they're tiffany blue, just like his mother's.
and nice skin isn't ever just nice; it's pearly, translucent and white milk.
like hello. i'd love to be described in a book, just for once. i wonder how the author would beautify me into someone completely dreamy and unrecognisable.
