Sibling Rivalry

Ever since I've remembered, my sister and I have been at loggerheads. Not in a bad way. In a way that anyone who has a sister near their age would know exactly what I mean.

I have had to work VERY hard to look presentable. I'm not really an ugly person, I just mostly do not care what most people think about me, because I don't value anyone's opinion but my own. So, I've had to work really hard to sort of have a distinctive style. I don't wear trendy clothes because I don't carry off trendy well, because I have VERY wide shoulders, a really big rack and am pretty clumsy. Besides, it is too much of an effort to follow girlie magazines to follow trends. So, I buy clothes cut in a classic style, I accessorize with genuine, understated jewellery because I would rather wear a simple gold chain rather than have a jumble of beads around my neck that I would have to change every season, because I value permanency and also it takes away the need to waste time. Also, to cut the clutter and the confusion of what to buy and what not to buy, I wear only 5 colours - black, white, red, blue and pink. This colour code helps me optimise time and my money while shopping and has been the BEST limiting factor to both the variables amongst all other limiting factors I have employed so far. I have a lot of my clothes tailored (the one perk of living close to Bangkok and earning well) and always wear expensive shoes. By expensive, I mean by my standards, which is about 50 dollars upwards.

Now, a lot of my sartorial choices may seem expensive, but they are not. They actually give excellent value for money. And I have spent ages fine tuning the art of being reasonable decently dressed. Now, I should have smelt a rat when my sister exhibited so much interest in my shopping. She has hijacked my style! Now, she shamelessly asks me for the product code numbers of everything I shop for. Die retail generic stores! Die! From now on baby, Mum's the word! Hehehehehe....

Listening

Watching a sappy TV show, I suddenly start listening and thinking back on the days events, I realise that's exactly what, I didn't do.

This past fortnight has brought too much on my plate - a suicide attempt, a serious illness, cancellation of plans, death (not the suicide attempt). My life, the soap opera. I'm waiting for the end, that seems to be not approaching soon, season after season. I'm so tired, I wish the director would just bump me off.

Indian Food Shows Suck

Dear Manju Malhi, stop being Kylie Kwong. Please.

Its My Party

I'm turning 31 tomorrow. I've had the worst week of this year so far. Tomorrow is not going to be any different, I feel.

Atleast, I've had an excellent year...

Wannabe

If you guys really, really want to know what I really, really want... Here's a list...

1. Sleeping uninterrupted for 8 hours
2. A house full of yellow roses
3. An accountant who takes me seriously, and listens to me
4. A mystic masseur who kneads the knots out of my shoulders and back every Sunday
5. Bob Dylan in the flesh, Rod Stewart will also do actually
6. Stinky, stinky Stilton cheese - hunks and hunks of it
7. World Peace (No, really!)
8. 48 hours in a day
9. A bathtub at home
10. A holiday home in Capri
11. A billion dollars, you know a million is not what it used to be, these days

That's it. See, my needs, they are very simple...

Have You Ever Seen The Rain

Now, I really, really think CCR is very overrated, but damn, this always cheers me up. Could be the happy memories associated with this song, like painting, like stargazing and seeing Saturn rings for the first time ever on a chilly October night, stealing kisses, getting up at the crack of dawn and being bathed in the pinkness and getting feet wet in the morning dew, eating orange lollies on a hot summer day, watching cricket matches and annoying everyone else by making observations that made no sense and having cushions-pens-pencils thrown.

What is life without the one great romance that is bad, bad, bad for you but makes you smile long after it is over? The one which makes static, is breathless, makes the days rush past, makes you want to paint-sing-dance-run-write torrid love letters (that you regret and pray have been destroyed later), makes all subsequent loves slightly less intense (and is probably better that way for the sake of sanity), makes you smile like an idiot, glow like a lighthouse, and makes you shed copious tears on closure.

I miss it. I'm very glad its over, but I miss not dancing the night away and the rock n' roll stars. I miss being 21. I will be 31 soon and its been 10 years. I can hardly believe it. I have a lot of regrets, I would do a lot of things differently if I had to do them over again, but not the Great Romance. That I would not undo.