That is an actual sign on an actual washroom door. That alone singlehandedly restored my faith in Society on a muggy Thursday afternoon.

People seriously need to start bringing Sharpies around more often.

... Sssso it's the last day before the end of the End Days! (or the beginning, or the end of the beginning, or vice versa...your pick)

In true Cara's-Notes fashion, a big chunk of my Duffy notes have upped and vanished. Which is supremely annoying; because I just know that in true Cara's-Notes fashion- they will inevitably reappear the day I get back home from the exam.

This ALWAYS happens, and I have tried EVERYTHING. Ring files, plastic files, dividers, binders, locks, keys, shackles...everything. Nothing works. It's like having three-year-old children but worse; because these ones don't cry and don't smell and therefore are a lot harder to locate.

Hence the majority of the day will be spent revisiting Duffy and redoing what I lost. Which is frustrating, but also neccessary, and probably also good revision. Thumbs up for optimism. (Y)

Does not help that C.A Duffy looks like a younger, slightly more psychotic (if that's possible) looking version of Susan Boyle on the back cover of the anthology. It distracts me.

On another note, I'm going to do some shameless hawking on my and Lisa's part, and: YOUTUBE TYLER WARD, GUYS. He's like Corey Monteith meets redneck hick (okay, same thing) meets Christian worship leader meets some really good biceps.

... oh yeah and the guy can sing.

He's really good. In some of his videos he looks slightly like a slightly more awake Kevin Jonas and sings infinitely better.

I also like how even before he released his Christian tracks, people were commenting on his videos and asking "...are you Christian? Because there's something about you..."

and i thought that was rad- and it's true, there IS something in his face.

[/end hawking]

By this time tomorrow, it'll all be over and I'll have purple hair.

Fantastic. Bring on the morning.

Tomorrow it all ends.

and freedom will come with a whisper.

I'm okay with that as long as it's into my ear.

cc: galaxy boy

re: a summary of today

A whole ton happened today (studying/coffee/walking around in hot hot heat notwithstanding)

but I choose to remember the best parts:

the incessant banter and high spirits the twirls, pirouettes, and coquettish glances from behind semi-hair (HA)

the strain running at the high, thin golden pitch that gradually collapsed into its own golden ribcage and lulled itself into an exhausted ennui--

the rift that comes from not holding hands will be bridged by the geography of earnest fingers. today for the first time in a long time i looked my pride in the eye and said "...no."

because there is a time for pride and a time for love

and sometimes we must kneel before the altar of knees and humbly say "this is my love, take it, will you take it?" and be brave enough to leave the question mark hanging at the end.

...and sometimes Love bends to kiss our fingers and says, "....yes."

Home was soft and chilly and grey in all the right ways.

the sultriness of microwaving chocolate chip cookies must not be underestimated, and this is something they don't teach you in your glossy magazines.

on the carpeted floor is the indomitable Lesson Of Being. Upstairs your father watches football on a kingsized bed in good faith, leaving you alone, and his faith is cupped in good hands--

-- hands that bend no laws; but move smoothly under them in a path so true it must have been charted by constellations.

in the meantime the angles of our cheeks are cradled in collarbones. the music is sand and africa like: chh-q-shh-shh-chh-q-shh and while breathing becomes the finest art it is MOVEMENT that seems most natural.

"everything was pure and nothing hurt"

the ceiling fan will sway for as long as you want it to, love.

Tonight I have laid my proud head on your proud shoulder.

Tonight i use the lose the words "mine"; "yours"; all in close proximity and loose as flax

for possession does not matter unless it is your arms around the curve of my back

possession does not matter unless it is Them against Us and they have seized the flag

Possession does not matter. Empires have crumbled for possession.

Empires have crumbled for love

but i know, of the two, which had the strength to first lift a broken wrist to replace the first broken brick

in the ark we shall later call Holy.

i dream of Africa in ways you cannot understand.

... So we're DONE WITH PAPERS!!!!

...no we're not actually. Not at all. We've still got two Literature papers and two Economics papers, which works out to 3 hours + 3 hours + 2 hours 15 minutes + 2 hours 15 minutes = ....oh idk, not touching my GC again, ever. From now on, I will deign to do Mathematics only in times of absolute necessity and fantastic sales.

I am truly glad this week is over, though- because it has been torture. (...ah, the generation of the Hyperbole... LOOK CAMBRIDGE I KNOW MY LITERARY DEVICES A PLEASE!)

The worst part by far, though, was studying for History. So much for the Humanities being Humane they are NOT. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Try studying Theme 3 (Arab-Israeli, RF, Indo-Pak) for 7 hours at a go (if you're an A-Leveller; you probably already did this, or more). There are some things even really good Christmas music and a hot chai tea cannot make better.

Another reason I'm glad the past week is winding down is because I've realized studying for As is kind of like hovering in a permanent state of PMS. Which sucks, because, y'know, I don't PMS. But I do have to study.

Point to prove case: I got back home yesterday evening, and my dad gives me a (or so I thought) accusatory glance and goes, "...I hope you're not going to be going out every night"

and I just BURST into tears. Right there, without any provocation. Going out? Every night? What is he talking about the last movie I've *gone out* to watch was probably...... I don't know; it's been that long.

Dad then goes, "...I just want you to be studying, darling". And in between looking at him with hurt, teary eyes and attempting to salvage my eyeliner wingtips from smudging i wail back, "...but I HAAAAVE been studying" and burst into a fresh round of tears.

God. I am such a brat sometimes.

So thank you, everybody, for putting up with me over the past few weeks. I'm actually pretty surprised I still have a house and a boyfriend.

Now: Onward to Lit. It'll be another cosy session @ starbucks tomorrow, with Erik (who can no longer be my little sister's Braces role model because his teeth are now perfect, and white, and straight! I hope he doesn't get prettier than me; that might take my megalomaniac complex down a few notches)

and then Lit on Monday. I'm going to do what I can and not worry excessively about it- because

1) I realize I only really do well when I'm enjoying myself and not taking myself too seriously. When I get too much into it and study myself into a frenzy, I end up epic failing anyway. (evidence: Math)

2) When in doubt for Wuthering Heights; just throw in a couple of words like "elemental passion" and "unwavering resolve" and "leaves reader with disquieting lack of resolution" and you'll probably hop up a few marks or two

3) Wilde probably never meant us to take him that seriously anyway.

So cruise into the wilde.

And if all else fails---- follow that wise old adage; and "keep calm, ramble on".

That's how most modern poets get famous.

I have a confession to make.

I have a Tumblr......but I'm not going to make it public yet; because I don't really know how I feel about it. Too many widgets for me. The existence of an actual Theme Garden, a Tumblr for iPhone app, and the other 12309809817 things on my tumblr dashboard I haven't quite figured out yet kind of boggle my mind. I think I might be boring and old school and stick with you, Blogger. If you started trying to take less than ten minutes to upload one photograph I might like you better.

All right; so down to business.

The last few days have been puh-retty damn dismal! And I KNOW this is the Generation Of The Hyperbole; but this is one of the rare instances I'm not exaggerating without reason to italicize.

...I know this is about the billionth time I've been going off in my whiny little tangent about A Levels. It's not going to last for long. Just one week till it begins, and then four weeks or so till it ends; and if I haven't offed myself by then things will start to look up. It's just that this period DOES suck. I do fully understand the relevance of having an international benchmark by which pretty much my entire future is going to be dictated; but it just seems a shame to waste Being 18 on...oh, I don't know. Promising yourself you'll do 6 hours of studying and then only doing 5.14444 and then finding out your friend did 8 and then feeling thoroughly crap about yourself because when you are a Singaporean A Leveller, your self worth is directly proportionate to the number of SAJC H2 Economics Case Studies you complete in a day. Just sayin'.

[/end whiny little tangent about A Levels]

On a side note, I think all my friends are going crazy. :<>

The other day, the bunch of us were having an enthused discussion about The Cons Of Being An Early Bloomer. You ace your PSLE, your parents think you're the next Nobel Prize Winner, jet you off to a school for the "creme de la creme" (creme WHAT creme? the only creme i've been seeing is cram...ming. for exams. :( ), heaps of expectations etc etc etc...and then you hit- what- 17, 18? ...and then everything starts going downhill from there and then one day it hits you: "...damn. I'm not actually all that intelligent."

...okay, so it isn't really all that bad and we STILL purportedly are the creme de la creme and we're not all that stupid really- i mean- i evern noe big 4 sillible wurds lyk "intelligent".

so it can't be that bad really, can it, God?

[/end whiny little tangent about Education matters in general]

Today was pretty nice, though. Had weird tensiony moments; but I had the best full body massage in a long time and had some odd but rad moments with Erik (note: two events not in any way related) and my friend's an addict and another one's being really weird and Erik and I chatted in myriad corny accents, v loudly, all the way home. The Singapore Public was not amused.

so I missed Halloween but that's okay, I was kinduf living my own little nightmare anyway

thing is, though, i just realized: i'm not really all that much into Halloween.

I know Di (moonsister!) likes it; she loves it; she was raving about her new skull bandana, bless her heart, and offered to lend it to me. I don't know I think I might look a little too "Che Guavera-meets-The-Black-Pearl-meets-Graveyard-Chic" and that combination might be a little too much for my fragile constitution to handle now....

i prefer christmas.

all the fake gore and tacky makeup and really bad colour combinations kind of put me off halloween. Maybe that's because I've only been celebrating it the six-year-old way; but I don't think the six-year-old and eighteen-year-old way differ by a lot.

also- admittedly Christmas DOES also involve really bad colour combinations but it is sanctioned by God and Santa.

and therefore infinitely holier.

amen.

i need sleep and lessons in punctuation and capitalization

My whole day thus far has been a very bad mash-up of Wall Street and the Starter Wife.

Why do my parents pick the WORST possible times to teach me how to do things? I do appreciate that stock marketing as well as learning how to run the gamut of household chores are essential life skills that every independent young woman should have; but really, couldn't this have been timed a little better? Say it with me: SEVENTEEN DAYS TO A LEVELS

It's 4:41PM now and I'm only just starting work. My Singapore compatriots have probably been awake since 2AM studying. Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad.

Hey- if I end up failing my A Levels; at least with my newfound knowhow I could make a living helping people turn on their dryers!

The world is generally pissing me off today.

I'm going to turn in early tonight; and maybe when I wake up I will be a little less judgmental, and people a little less stupid.

I will go into the enchanted garden.

I will peer behind leaves and lift the soft petals of flowers to find the faeries that used to hide there; should still be there; never left. Like a little sister I will tiptoe across wet grass with damp baby-blue toes; rise gently on high arches; be molded by the magick air into a still sculpture of some forgotten nymphian frame.

here we never grow old. Here the boys are beautiful and the girls have eyes like wild fawns, unafraid. We move through shrubbery and we mark our foreheads with the sign of the Hunt. Here we sing the ancient songs and they do not stick in our mortal throats like knots.

elsewhere there is a white boat and my other mother lies in it

waiting

guinevere neverwoken. the weeds cradle the oars, nestle between eyelashes.

the father? midas. he breathes, eyes wide open, at the bottom of the river. mouth parted in a silent 'o'

Am I innocent? i am. i paid the price back in the other world and they rigged the scales with the same stones they hurled at me in the square. From the arches of the cathedral I saw a ghostly Joan of Arc nodding at me. "you had nothing to die for and i am sorry for it." the red seeping through the front of her tunic. all too real for a phantom. from the ground a rough man in patchwork put a hand to his forehead and complained of strange rain.

"soon you will join me in the enchanted forest, sister"

where the butterflies move with a heavy lethargy; slink across the air with a silky friction. the trees breathe a weighty daze upon your thoughts; but from where you sink slowly pressed into the ground your nightgown still flutters like white tissue. the purest thing here,

lightest.

the damp dirt sucks at your fingers; pulls down your toes...the wet roots clamp around your ankles and the earth moans in its belly. a slow and heavy seduction. you would fight, but this is almost pleasurable. one with the moist peat. well, they wanted peace on earth. the moss knits its damp fingers over your closing eyes.

they will find your nightgown one day; the thirsty bowl of the forest floor having drunk deep of the rest of you

this is the story which you write yourself into to calm your troubled heart.

Dear Hater:

... the only kind of "high" I'm going to get is a distinction.

Stop spreading dumb rumours. Thanks.

x

"let's go kl ! omigod over there you can go craaaazy, i tell you"
"we go foot her (food tour). omigod is dam dam awesome!"
"...abuden!"
~cue maniacal chorus of singlish giggles here~





oh my God somebody save me it is 30days to the A Level GP exam and i do not need this.

lexy keeps us pure

mia keeps us sane

izzie has some jagged edges but we like the pain!

Y'KNOW what the most retarded feeling in the world is?:

it's being bored as hell of life but not wanting to pull the trigger at all because you still have so much damn faith in the To Come; because you know it's gonna be sock-rocking worthy! I am at once infinitely happy and exquisitely miserable.

today Erik asked me what my plans were, post- A Levels.

... to be perfectly honest; for the first week or so, the plan is just to wake up everyday at 2 o' clock in the afternoon, curl up in the sheets with coffee and sweetener, and just watch old movies all day in my dressing gown. if I'm feeling particularly adventurous I might come out of my room for toast, or something.

After the initial Luxury Of Time period, however; I want to...(and this is where I realized just how GEEKY I am; because wakeboarding aside--)

1. learn how to wakeboard

2. greek mythology

3. take greek A-levels

4. read "sons and lovers" & "the great gatsby"

5. learn how to bake

6. write lots and lots of songs

7. buy cat ears and wear them while scribbling incoherent poetry all day

8. start writing letters to people

9. write to Florence and the Machine and give her permission to use my nightmare as music video inspiration

...besides #1, which makes me kinda cool; the rest are pretty much safe in the realm of Geek. Which- y'know- is kinda okay, really. Because finally I will have time to do all the lesser Geeky things that so far I have overlooked in the grand scheme of doing Nerdy things-- ie doing mindless Mathematics, throwing History-onics, getting Excessively into Economics...etc.

I'm fine with being a geek but don't ask me to fly the nerd flag-- THERE IS AN INTRINSIC DIFFERENCE.

today everybody seems to be airy and restless and a little bit on the edge. saturday static? I'm certainly feeling it. Okay, Singapore, reserve it for Monday.

i want the same white nightdress florence wears in heavy in your arms i can't wait for the shimmering shrapnel that floats in backs of tired minds like the dreamcatchers you can't catch

need to return lisa's library books homer sappho: there will be time after this for all of the old poets. you have old worlds to see and new faces to meet. you darling need to stop being defined by who you are with: you have nothing to prove to me you have nothing FOR me

i need to stop the tragic run-on prose and learn to be concise. cambridge clipped. STOP

you can't hunt down what you're searching for because they're on the run with me and if you reach into my chest to get them your hand's going to come out red with nothing but MY blood

it's okay i use the melancholy for my late night poems. don't need to be fixed

i am not

b-b-b

b-b-b-broken

i am an alabam.

excerpt from notebook, classtime, 9:07am:

such lethargy, today.

it's the middle of the week.

i hate middles of anything-- they're the roadsign on the highway waving you on with a "half the pain down, half more to go..." when you barely made it through the first half intact. the race marshall who gestures you on and up the hill with a cheery "you can do it!" when all you want to do is feign a sudden concussion, ask for water, and throw your cards down on the race.

middles signal mediocrity and mediocrity hails inadequacy,

inadequacy bubbles over into teacups.

tomorrow there will be a God. tomorrow the elixir of the promise of the weekend will give the spring in your step; the trip in your trot; the b-b-b-bounce to propel you into forward motion.

but today you are allowed to be mundane.

today we chew like Navajo, tobacco, slow; and tonight we fall asleep to coffeegrounds and stereos and the drone of the telephone. alone. phone home.

the music hurts.

[/edit]

on another note today i heard someone say to another someone "it's 3 o'clock, why don't you go and eat?"

and inexplicably my heart was filled with love for the unbearable joy of being human. for the same safe little rituals we perform the world over that make us this devastating, simple genus.

in which the blind see again

Dear People who have expressed concern in varying degrees over my degenerating eyesight:

Thank you! I have glasses now. All is well with the world.

x

so today I decided "okay, I'm going to be all artsy and poetic and Daughter Of Nature-y for five minutes" and wandered out to the rooftop garden.

and then I was so mesmerized by the dim lights and the distant skyline and general night-time-ness that I must have used a little bit too much force to close the glass door; because next thing I knew; I heard a "click".

...only I would lock myself out of my own house. And on the roof, too. Honestly, I think sometimes God guides my hand in these things just when He wants a little chuckle.

"ugh Palestine's not doing too well today...and Venice is still sinking...and Rihanna dyed her hair that unholy shade again...AHA I KNOW LET'S MAKE CARA DO SOMETHING STUPID. HEY GABE, HEY MIKE, IT'S TV TIME GET THE CRISPS~~"

All in all, though, I figured the roof wasn't a bad place to be locked out on; and decided to lie there until the family came back from town and somebody came up to the third floor to unlock me.

And so I lay there in my robin's egg blue batik nightgown, on the wooden planks, and stared up at the sky and breathed and watched the stars and the clouds and quite enjoyed this little adventure.

rolled over about once to text people, because after about ten minutes of being an artsy, poetic Daughter Of Nature; it got a little bit boring. just a little bit.

Shakti, after learning of my plight: HAHAHAHAHA now you have no choice but to entertain me MUAHAHAHAHA.

How's the Econs coming along?

Cara: Not very well, seeing as how I'm OUT ON THE ROOF. Watching cloud in shape of wolf's head pass by hurrah me

eventually i did get rescued.

also laughed at. why is the world so judgmental?! This depresses me. Now I'm going to wear heavy black eyeliner and metal studs and isolate myself in my own special hiding place to contemplate the meaning of Life. preferably not on the roof.

Moral of the story: DON'T be an artsy, poetic Daughter of Nature. Particularly if you're sitting for your A Levels. It wastes time and you get your hair dirty lying out on the wooden floor, although you end up getting bathed by the stars. Luckily it wasn't raining. whew.

#unproved theory321

we all make up our own sadness.

the ones who do it well get put up in print

or if you're not so lucky then the hospital

and if you make that work for you then i guess you could even become famous.

So lately we've been on the Titanic and have been convincing ourselves that "...our ankles aren't wet, just sweaty from dancing".

Well hello- Earth To Students In Denial! Yes, it's an iceberg; and yes, it's big; and yes, you've fucking hit it square on the nose.

...Oh, and there's one lifeboat left. On three go!

So yeah.

Enough of complacency, and enough of procrastination (I promise that this is just a break and in ten minutes I'll be back at the desk Statisticsking), and it's time I do my future some justice. No pressure or anything...

The past few days have been up and down and everything in between. Who needs Universal Studios when you've got the A Levels? Have you ever FELT THE ADRENALINE RUSH WHEN YOU LOOK AT AN ECONS PAPER AND HAVE A MAJOR WTF MOMENT there's nothing quite like it, I assure you.

Still, though, there have been blessings to be counted. There've been the marginally stellar moments. And even the quiet moments; like a little while earlier when I was tackling Math and listening to Imi Heap-- and the part where she goes:

"Not now but soon
The most beautiful light
Will wake us to pillow fighting excitement

Standing by the best days of our lives,
Magnificent, the best days of our lives,
Big bang boom, the best days of our lives
They’re coming right up
If we can just get through this one.

Who said it was over?
It’s as good as it gets
Well we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves yet--"

... and I listened to that and just felt comforted. Eighteen and toiling and never more alive!! i will sing as long as there is still air to breathe.

School has been draining lately, with the odd bit of funny anecdotal stupidity tossed in here and there. Creme de la creme? Us? Really?

eg:

"This is the basis on which other such arguments are based." (Kenneth's GP paper)

"Foreign direct investment is investment obtained directly from foreign sources." (Epic Fail at definition of FDI)

"All the world is migrant." (When all else fails, we misquote Shakespeare)

"Wah lao, be or not be" (Mr D's 'Hamlet: Condensed')

"Yay! Bitch dies!" (Mr D's 'Tess of the d'Urbervilles: Condensed')

and aptly, too;

Mr D: "Pocahontas 2?? Who watches those sequels- they're crap! Like that High School Musical 1, High School Musical 2, High School Musical 3: Senior Year..."

Chris: "Next up- ...High School Musical 4: Retained."

Cara: "Starring... Us."

40 days to go and I'm gonna come out swingin' like a flapper from the '60s.

terrifying best days of our lives--

Me: "Let's go out the day A Levels end!"

Amrit: "By the time A Levels end I will have a FULL GROWN MOUSTACHE. I am not going ANYWHERE with you."

I am not a child.

What part of "no longer eight" do you not understand?

I love you but sometimes you make me sick to the core; ill to the bone

it's not organic carrot puree; you can't forcefeed me any more

with ideals you claim you ground straight from the Bible.

if that's God I don't believe in Him

but that isn't God and I know it. You don't.

what part of "daughter, not autopsy blueprint" do you not understand?

This isn't the Spanish Inquisition. We're Asian. And you are not the thought police!!! who gives you/ what gives you/ (i certainly didn't) the right to think you can pull open the flap (right, left, this one needs stitching) of my tired torso and reach raw inside what holyman chutzpah do you claim to smear what salve that will save my soul?

i'm going to stop angsting now like a thirteen year old with too much eyeliner and xanga -time. you guys make me compromise my street credibility. must be the influence of all the MAGAZINES I'M READING, RIGHT, LOVES? because of course it's reading Style one day, and sex drugs and rock n' roll the night after! of course. we all learnt parenting from the Cosby Show.

have a little faith in me. I'm tired of fighting.

When will you learn, and what will it take, and what have i not tried yet that will finally make you see?

re: I'm a rogue, not a thief

... no; I don't WANT your boyfriend. I have my own. You can keep yours.

x

It is 9.30am on a Saturday morning-

and I am sitting here in my nightgown thinking DAMN IT'S GOOD TO BE ALIVE.

The sun's all hot and heavy outside but somehow I don't mind, because I'm kind of cold in here and I think in a little while I'm going to go to my brother's outdoor shower and sit in the middle of the wooden planks just basking.

Facebook Newsfeed hasn't moved in about half an hour, which is a little bit scary. So I assume everyone's either asleep & recuperating from the past frankly quite hellish week/ starting Revision Round #...1209892309ojsadskalk in preparation for Impending Doom.

i love how i give myself a false perception of freedom~~

yesterday was nice: spent gymming and jacuzzing with Erik at the Club, and then always with the sugar fix, so we headed to the rooftop@harbourfront and I had a bigass cup of frozen yogurt and stole sips from Erik's cup of what-I-hope-was-diet-coke (he refused to tell me. damn enigmaticness...if that's even a word. if not-- PATENT)

then, having no frantic lastminute revision to do for any paper the next day- I went back home and made dinner for myself with the salmon in the fridge and toasted honey almond cereal and milk (i am so self-sufficient) and then spent a happy half hour just belly down on bed and texting random people and all the while enjoying the luxury of TIME.

and then I watched Troy for, like, only the thirty-second time. Dad came back and watched it with me... he was evidently cringing at all the gory Director's Cut bits; and whenever Achilles stripped off his armour; you could see Dad's hand edging for the control...

until I got tense and took away the control and assured him "it's okay, I've seen all the Weird Bits before- and besides- the Weird Bits don't come just yet. Relax."

my parents are very conservative.

I agree that sex should be kept for marriage; but i hardly think handholding is going to get anyone pregnant. And that one time i lay on J's lap to watch television- ohhhhh, Hades.

so dear boyfriend; ...hence the circumstances. be extra lovely and i might tweak the rules a little bit and maybe even LINK PINKIES ON THE TENTH DATE

;)

But digressing from parents.... back to myself.

It's about time to get changed and head out to meet Di for our weekly Saturday gym-sushi-study session combo. Excited to gym, and I stepped on the scale today and it went down, which is always a nice surprise- esp seeing as how I was noshing on froyo and my sister's too-good-to-be-healthy seaweed thing yesterday--- feeling kind of worn out from General Examness; but I think once I blast some Beyonce and Britney (yes, guilty workout pleasures. don't hate.) I should feel aaaaaa-okay.

I finished editing my Lit H3 commentary before 9. That's my dose of Over Achieving done for the day.

Now on to meet luna sorella, moonsister, spend time at the gym, and then laze the afternoon away reading Tess of the d'Urbervilles for monday's paper 5.

here we go.