Archive for the ‘Random Rants’ Category

I could sit in a corner all day today. With my back up against the wall, I feel almost infallible yet, hollowed. I guess it is self-doubt is welding a spade and digging a bear cave in my chest.

Tomorrow’s the first day of the final exams for the semester. As with all exams, I wish for the day never to arrive. Ever. However much you have prepared before seems to be an unlikely line of defense for the battlefield of questions that are to come, and that is what scares me the most. This insufficiency, this… self-doubt. You can’t brush it off your shoulders nor can you hold a decent persuasive conversation in your head to convince yourself everything is going to be alright.

Potential cure? Distractions. Distractions seem timely. Unfortunately, distractions are a temporary deterrence to the main issue at hand. As so, it is fleeting. Oh so brief.

Then, what should I do? Wait. Waiting’s probably the best cure for the moment. In hopes of quelling the incessant fear that runs through my veins like a slow poison. (18 hours, 24 minutes and counting.)

Well, like the saying goes: “If it happens, it happens.



I failed in dispelling all belief that Patrick Jane has a love interest.

Come on, the close encounters, the you-gaze-and-I-gaze-into-our-eyes moment… Classic! Jane should be sent straight to Love Drunk Hell. The man obviously has feelings for his psychiatrist.

Should I be upset? Distraught? On the verge of a mental breakdown? I should consider…

Emotional outburst aside, today’s episode of The Mentalist truly blew me away thanks to the result of two happenings: Deborah Ann Woll guest starred and talk about altering one’s morality through technology surfaced. Ok, so out of the two, the latter was way more captivating. Why? Find out in a few. 😉

Today, Jane cracks a case which is dear to his heart: one involving his psychiatrist AKA suspected love interest. How does it all link up? See, his psychiatrist quit her job to become a scientist working on a research on morality alteration through breakthrough technology. However, the sticky and tricky parts come when her research partner is “suddenly” poisoned at a convention.

Hmmm, smells like conspiracy.

So the rest of the episode goes like this: Jane’s recollections on his time of recovery (from depression I suppose?), the whole breakthrough technology was all a sham (turns out a year of research has been falsified) and lo and behold, Miss Deborah Ann Woll winds up dead half and hour into the episode. Shame she only scored 75 seconds of fame throughout the series and no promise to return (they killed her).

Well, True Blood made up for the loss. Thankfully. Jessica is such a pleasant and carefully complex character to watch. 😀

And hence the episode rounds up with Jane planting a soft kiss on his (suspected!) love interest’s “cheek” (actually, it was a fingertip away from her lips). “Goodbye Sophie.”

Ah, farewell unrequited loves. 😀 If, you guys know what I mean.
(Coughs, Lisbon and Jane, coughs!)

Before I run off to another True Blood banter or how odd I view the Evan Rachel Wood and Alexander Skarsgard rumoured romance, let me fill you in on what is going on in the world of the girl-with-the-endless-banter-about-TrueBlood:

  1. Elementary Watson, Elementary I know when I have crossed the line to become a full-fledged impulsive buyer the moment I talked myself into signing up for the Watsons Loyalty Card. However, in my defense, the card allows me to earn bonus points which will eventually translate to rebates. Other than that, it is a green, hard plastic card that makes me purposefully when I do my regular shopping at Watsons.

    After all, I am a loyal shopper. Might as well fashion my loyalty into a card.

    Cheers to more impulsive spending  and shopping binges.

  2. Seek mom’s advice I shall For being a bloody rebel, I failed to heed my mom’s advice on using clay masks on my (entire) face. That costed me… A lot. Now, I have scaly skin on a few spots on my face.

    I am beginning to feel like cicada undergoing molting. Guess I should have sticked to T-zone.

  3. The wonderous search for a suitable pair of cropped pants If there is any time to refuse using the word “perfect”, this would be it. I know deep in the recesses of my mind that I will probably never own designer pants so I will cut myself short right this instant.

    It cushions the fall and lessens the pain.

    As for the search, I have been scourging Uniglo (I seriously doubt their clothes are made from Japan. Hello? Quality speaks, and it is telling me plenty.), departmental stores (Chanced upon a pair going at S$130 at Isetan. Had to hold on to pillar to catch my breath thereafter.) and Bugis Street (Daisy-duke shorts seem to rule the world now. So much for them I am not interested in, sadly.). All of which is to no avail.

    Ah well. I was seriously considering Uniglo, but I might have second thoughts. I strolled past Giordano at the Takashimaya outlet and lo and behold, I found a S$29.90 pair. Colours are ordinary (e.g. Black), but who cares? I go for basic colours anyway. All the best to mix and match tops.

    I might be saving for it. Might. (My Watsons shopping impulses might empty my pockets quicker than I expect.)

  4. Kiss The Cook Well, I am merely a Sous Chef, truth be told. No, I do not work for a restaurant (I wish!) neither am I whipping up feasts for house parties.

    I have been temporarily recruited as my mom’s Sous Chef. My mom being the Head Chef of course.

    Cooking has been one of my holiday resolution, so I have set my heart, soul and mind to it. One baby step at a time. Recently, I have been summoned by the Head Chef to prepare half the ingredients needed for a salad for dinner. Specifically,  I was told to chop canned mushrooms to teeny tiny bits and tomatoes (off with the seeds) into crescents. Also, I have handled a chinese cleaver.

    The experience was less than satisfactory resulting in two fresh blisters on an  index finger, but I still have the fighting spirit in me. It was owed largely to my lack of practice and skill.

    After all, I was far from a cooking whiz. (I do not burn my food but I sure can make a mess out of them.)

  5. Battle of the languages Another one of my holiday resolutions was to brush up my french as well as to pick up another language. Frankly, my mom intends for me to become a multi-linguist. (Aye-yai-yai.)

    More importantly, I wanted to practice my french because I am continuing in Basic French (now in the second level of the Beginners’ Level. I am making progress!) once my second semester begins in October. It is going to be an uphill battle for me now, considering how I have no “background” to speak of. (I was able to cope with the first level because I told a similar course in Alliance Francais. I took it again in school just as a refreshers’ course.)

    Wish me luck!

    Oh, the other language I am training in now is Bahasa Melayu. (Mom’s the coach.)

  6. I’m addic, I’m addicted to you…

    No, this is not some desperate cry to Alexander Skarsgard, telling him how much I love his portrayal of Eric and how sexy he sounds in Swedish…

    Then again, oops, you caught me.

    In fact, I am addicted to TV dramas once more. The rated, in-your-face, totally unabashed American kinds. I am, indeed, a Showtime and HBO girl. Atypical girl is what you can call me. Or at least atypical girl in her taste in series genres.

    Currently, I am glued to Dexter and Hung.

    (On Dexter) I got to admit. Internal dialogues are something I relate to… All the time.

  7. Ain’t No Sunshine Don’t say “ain’t” or your mother will faint and your father will trip over paint.

    Please refrain from flaming me. My mom told me about that fancy rhyme years ago. A short tongue twister to remind kids to refrain from using “ain’t”. It is consider improper in the English language and vuglar to some (people).

    With that said, what I meant to write about it my recent addiction to sunblock. Yes, I have taken beauty advices one step to far and slathered on plenty of that skin saviour cream to prevent premature aging and tanning. The beauty advice being to moisture (always) and apply sunblock whenever, wherever.

    Wrong move in our crazy climate. With humidity cranked up to the maximum these days, the supposedly “light” sunblock felt clammy minutes after application on my skin. To think I follow its directions on applying “liberally on affected areas”.

    Truly, the sunblock made me feel like a walking slime machine… Of some sort.

    Note to self: Plaster sunblock discreetly on skin for any coming outdoor activities.

  8. To camp, to camp, to camp we go!It has been a week since I have attended a camp. Now, I am merely 30 hours away from another camp.

    I wonder what mood I will be in after all the dust has settled. Till then, off to camp!

  9. To clutch, or not to clutch? You know, clutches can be annoying. Yup, those rectangular creations fashioned to fit the bare minimum for a cocktail party or casual events. Though I attribute my impatience to my hatred for them.

    They are extremely pleasing to the eye but cumbersome for the hand. At times when you struggle to manhandle a certain task (like carrying tons of grocery bags), the clutch gets in the way and you are simply forced to wear the strap around your wrist and risk looking like a cheap clutch wannabe.

    Or maybe I happen to have a very fertile imagination.

    Either ways, I worked with a clutch for a day and I have told myself, “Never again”. Unless I am attending an exclusive event and my outfit depends on the clutch, I will firmly refuse the use of the clutch.

    Impractical, cumbersome and loathsome.

Ah well. I simply must retire for the night. Got a 4th episode of Dexter Season 2 to catch. Bon noir!

Truthfully speaking, Season 2 of True Blood is all kinds of crazy… But I love every minute of it.


First of all, the Bill and Sookie relationship is close to tiresome. I have no idea why cheese seems to be the adhesive of their love bonds. No offense, I rather Sookie change camps and move over to Eric. Eric might be a tough nut to crack, but at least he has less cheese on his platter.

Keeping in mind those descriptions were meterphorical. I very much emphasize that.

Besides the overbearing Bill-and-Sookie, Maryann’s arrival seems to be taking on quite a presence. Apart from voodoo-ing the entire community to participate in wild orgies, she gets all fired up at the mention of Sam Merlotte. Some history she had with him, but in all conclusions, her insanity (yes, she cannot go on killing and hosting orgies forever) needs to be explained by episode 10 or 11. At the very least.

So far, Season 2 has given most of the characters more depth. In a sense, most has substance and that is hard evidence that the series has been progressing since the first. However, the second season of True Blood has taken a backseat in reality. This is frightful and worrying all at once.

In the first season, the strained relationship of Lettie Mae and Tara, Sam’s pain of never being Sookie’s affection, Sookie’s fear of losing Bill time after time, Arlene’s failed marriages and later-discovered-to-be-psychotic fiance (Rene) and Jason being framed from crimes he never committed highlighted the struggles in life. Bearing witness to such happenings everyday, it was not unusual that the series rung a bell somehow.

Disappointingly, the second season chose a beaten and familar track. Much to cringe about and scream, “cliche!”

In sum, I hope Alan Ball will re-visit the dark reccesses of reality soon.

After all, Six Feet Under did pave the way for dsyfunctionality.

“Don’t blame it on sunshine
Don’t blame it on moonlight
Don’t blame it on good times
Blame it on the boogie”

So here I am again. Wasting away what is left of the Monday blues, idling the final 12 minutes to Monday on blogging. Bad choice at the time when a graded classwork and a common test for Macroeconomics await me this week and the next respectively… But hey. There has got to be more to life than chasing down every temporary high to satisfy me.

Just as much as I hate to bury myself under pages of reports, mind numbing clattering of the keyboard (all my friends say that I type real hard, even ruthlessly on my laptop), 400 looming deadlines, and staring at the laptop screen wondering if it is going to blank out at any moment (technology fails), it happens as it happens.

Gosh. Seems like I really do have one ticking time bomb of a head. No wonder my friends hail me as one stressed out, over-reacting kid.

I have to say I am doing my utmost to walk and not run (though sometimes running is paramount).

Today, I accepted an opportunity of a lifetime. Tomorrow, I have to live up to my acceptance. Though truthfully speaking, I am forgoing the thought of tomorrow. Like Ronan Keating croons, “If tomorrow never comes…”.

In any case, knock on wood.

Hence among this scattered rantings and constant struggle to cramp the world’s happenings into whatever space there is in my head, I shall put an end to (guess what, it is midnight as I speak!) to this spectacle and go…

Say say say/What you want/But don’t play games/With my affection/Take take take/What you need/But don’t leave me/With no direction


Nothing in the world to rant about and inhaling god-knows how much fumes of nail polish later, here I am blogging about pet peeves. Seems like the weather could not keep me from rambling.

Okay, pet peeves. Let me see. My pet peeve is an annoying voice in my head that stomps on every piece of positivity in the same head of mine. Yes, let’s say that it is not necessarily an evil occurrence. What is paramount about it is that it could possibly conscience stepping in. Or maybe I might be slightly loony. Anyhow, it serves as a good wake-up call most of the time.

Next up, lousy weekend line-ups of television programmes. I hate it, especially on a Friday night, when there is nothing to watch on television. Not only it makes a horrible start to the weekends, it kind of brings a mild gloom to what the stations can offer on Saturday and Sunday. What is worst is when they push all the fine programmes on Sunday, and you have to go to bed early because the next day is a work day.

What else…

This particular pet peeve took me some time to get over — smudging nail polish. For me, I do not usually sit around and wait for the wet nail polish on my nails to dry. That is the problematic aspect. Now that is solely nobody’s fault by mine.

Verdict? If you cannot find peace with yourself and solve these pet peeves, go to bed. You obviously need a good night’s rest to keep you from worrying so often.

With a cover that attractive, I simply could not resist plucking it off the racks under the recommendation genre of the month section at the national library, “Romance”. Let us all be reminded to never judge a book but its cover.

Jill Mansell‘s Solo is very well one of those hardly digestible romance novels that leave you staring blankly at  every turn of the page. Besides staring blankly, I had also sped up reading with skipping multitudes of pages at once. That was why I finished the novel in a day, within 6 hours odd. Not to mention the novel being 65 chapters or 506 pages long, however you wish to look at it.

I might have been better off reading the second Harry Potter instalment. (Which I constantly remind myself how wayward I am; stuck at such a stage when others have polished off the series… Whole.)

(Aside from that, I got to admit British wit and humour is something I cannot understand…)

But! Hope is not all lost. In the bag of books I have earned from a trip to a library last evening, I have… A Fodor’s guidebook of San Francisco, Philippa Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl, Charlaine Harris’s Dead To The World (this is nothing but to satisfy my cravings for True Blood. I have gotten aloof waiting for the second season.) and some other romance novel with a tinge of thriller and mystery; Kathleen Eagle’s Night Falls Like Silk.

Let’s all hope upon hopes that I might be halfway done with that pile of books by the end of the next three weeks. After all, forecast tells me that it will be filled with nothing but the glorious wonders of work.

Got to concede defeat to it somehow… Anytime, but not now.