Envy and desire

She's lovely. Really she is.
Everytime, after i sit and talk with her, i come back the green eyed monster.
She has everything i desire. Everything. I want to be her. I want all that she has.

It used to be that my envy worked to my advantage. It motivated me, kept me working hard. I watched others and the happiness they had, and i work to achieve that. Now, my envy has reduced me to a stupid girl who thinks life is unfair. I stopped counting my blessings and just comparing what other have that i dont. Why have i sunk so low? It's because i've tried. And i still dont have half of what all those girls had. Those beautiful, perfect girls who i've known since i could remember. The girl at my playschool gym who had the prettiest dresses, the loveliest hair and all the cool girls as her gang. Melissa, who in kindergarden got into the choir and i didnt. That girl who got first place in class when i only managed third. The girls primary school who were smarter and prettier. Those girls who could jump higher and do better at games. There i worked so hard, to be as good as them. I never was. I pretended to be tough to show this 'im great and you arent' shell to the other kids. Truth was i was actually really vunerable and no one knew.

And in secondary school it just got worse. I became a bitch just so that i didnt have to admit anyone was better than me. I tried everything: sport, intellectual pursuits, even rebelliousness; hoping against hope that i would find something i was amazing at. I was always the mediocre one-yeah, i did ok in everything, but excelled at nothing. I had friends who were amazing, and now they're off doing amazing things with their lives and im stuck here trying to be a doctor.

The situation hasnt changed much since kindergarden. I still am that loner freak girl-with friends that are all off doing things that I want to do; and never quite achieving anything substantial. I use the word friends loosely in this context. Friends here mean people i know and people who for the most part allowed me to hang about them (sometimes they dont even realize im there).

Sometimes, i wonder why i exist. This is an extrapolation from the theory that art imitates life. If life was the greatest movie ever made (producer/director: God), what part would i play? Im no lead actor, perhaps just a supporting actor (lucky even to be that). Most probably an extra. Inconsequential.

Mayhaps im being greedy, but i really want to be the lead actor in my own life. Im tired of being in the sidelines, in the background.

I want the leading man. I want the wonderful supporting actors. I want the drama, i want the lit all. I want life to be like The O.C and i want to be Marissa. That's what she is. She is the little queen of her own world. She is not just one person. She encompasses all those girls who have it all. Beauty, money, body, brains and boys. Some even have talent. However much i tell myself i hate them, the ugly festering truth is I WANT TO BE THEM. I'm been so wrapped up in this obsession that its like a cancer in me. I feed it with all my envy and desires. The cancer is growing and one day its gonna kill me. The symptoms are all there: im so self-absorbed, caught up in my little miserable world with no sense of perspective. The self-harm, the self-hate and the quiet obsession. I use to be strong, use the envy to my advantage. Now i merely submit to it.

I know as much-I have to stop this. This sick twisted desire for a life cannot have. To be a person i never could. My envious thoughts and stupid hatred of her disgust me. It's that part of me that is now becoming so strong. It's taking over my life insidiously. The longer, the deeper i let the envy fester, the worse i will become. Im already slipping, and soon i may fall.

CARNIVAL!!!

I am yet to go on my christmas holiday and i'm already planning my next one. I've never been to france and reading 'chocolat' has inspired me to go and see france at its most glorious: carnival. It's in march, and if i handle myself right i may be able to afford it. Another reason to go is to visit good ole Aero-boy. He's been in france for ages, and he lives in Provance; so i guess its not too much of a for him hike for him to get to Nice. He loves a good party, from what i can remember. Still trying to imagine him with whistles and waving glo-sticks at raves-somehow i find that image real difficult to conjour up.

Had a look at tickets-It'll cost about 30-50 quid to get a return ticket from London to either St. Tropez or Nice itself. And accomodation may be tough (cos loads of people are gonna be down for carnival......)but I have to recheck where Aero-boy lives exactly. If his house is in the next town i might just commute (or tandem on his trusty bike).

I might go away for more than just a weekend-maybe take 2 or 3 days off: Yep, living dangerously alright. My schedule doesnt look too packed in March and it's 3 weeks from the next exam. I have exams every six weeks, so three weeks is good time.

Now i just have to find people who wanna come along with me (i am a repentant former loner freak-now i try to make friends, at least).

A marked woman

It's the worse oven burn i've had, by far.

My hand made contact with the heating element of the oven while i was trying to pull my food. Stupid, i know. They've been telling me for years to get oven gloves, i could never be bothered.

The pain of the burnt skin to top cracking doesnt bother me as much as the shape of my burn. Its a curious tick/correct shape, a Nike mark on my skin. I always try to find deeper meanings to why things happen; burning my hand was the first part of a woeful saga that left my hot, just cooked dinner on the floor and me eating ice-cream and reading fiction all night when i was suppose to work.

In the grand scheme of things, this may be a small part. The mark will remind me to not fantasize while cooking (i'll just sing then). I hope it heals without a scar-i dont want a testament to my inability to cook without injury. I still cant shake off my notoriety of being accident prone.Blimey

Meet Ginger Blund, my teddy.

Im ill with viral pharingitis. That's a sore-throat that has to clear up on it own to the rest of ya. The GP wasnt much help, and i was feeling so lethargic that i really didnt want to say anything.

I've been lucky so far that i've not been ill often. I hate feeling ill. That weak, powerless feeling. The heat eminating from behind my eyeballs, my breath so warm but yet being so cold, terribly cold. Aches in all my muscles and my joints stiff and sore. Weakness so deep my bones feel tired. Fever so hot that my arm was properly radiating heat. I sweated the fever off this morning, and slept in off this afternoon. To survive tonight i fed my fever. A meal of rice, ice-cream, paracetamol and litres of tea.

Must work. Must read. Must remember. Exams in 3 weeks and i must redeem myself. Cardioresp exam results was embarrasing.

Being sick puts me in a philosophical mood. I'm reminded of my mortality-the fact that i can and will die. It's all a matter of time really. To find out how much time-try this. I guess getting ill is a time to reflect and think. To put me in my place. Its a humbling place to be, being ill. My mind and body weakened, and not by choice. Unable to do what i want to.

But i push it. My body mostly. I do abuse my body; most of the time not out of a concious choice, but because i have to. Sometimes, i abuse it because im angry or upset. To punish my mind. To me: the mind controls the body. The body nourishes the mind. When one is weak, so is the other. At the moment my resolve is strong, to stay awake long enough to get some revision done. To be able to get to medsoc tomorrow and maybe even gym a bit! It's amzing though how the body adapts. When mollycoddled i tend to get tired and ill easily; but i can build myself up to sleeping 4 hours a day and running about the rest of the time. It's all in the head, really.

The fever is coming back, i can feel that familiar warmth behind my eyeballs. And im starting to feel cold even though the heat is on full blast.

The picture at the beginning of this post is my teddy: Ginger Blund. He watches over me and guards my bed. I gave him jewelled arm bands to wear to show off his guardian warrior status and to appease him really. I worry he's hiding my stuff away.......I secretly wonder whether he is evil.......I sure hope not........

Choices

Im ill. I suspect it's viral tonsilitis. That's the acute feel of it. But there are a whole host of chronic things going on in the background. Going to go see the GP today. The poor person has to contend with my insanity and hypochondriacism.

Aside, im feeling a lot like Squee nowadays. Scared and kinda unloved. And worst, i think Ginger is a bit like Shmee......kinda evil. I sensed a slight evil gleam in the turn of his nose. I keep on losing things in my room-it could be Ginger, just hiding my stuf away.........

Again im at crossroads. There's a big party this tomorrow. H- might even be there. The thing is:

a) viral tonsilitis

b) lack of money-itis (money just came in, but i have spain to think about!)

c) i've got uni stuff till 8pm

d) none of my close peeps are gonna be there

e) it's 10 quid entry

On the other hand:

a) H- might be there

b) I havent gone clubbing for awhile!

c) It'll be great to meet new people

d) S has been asking me out for awhile. Shouldnt disappoint her really.........She's been really sweet about it too.........

I hate making choices

Row, row, row yer boat

Go girls!!! BL's women's fresher team 2006

Instead of working today i've been out. I've spent close to 20 pounds. I'm in dire trouble if money doesnt come in by this week.

Went to see the fresher's row today. I was there bright and early, saved myself a load of dough by taking taking a bus and the tube. Was there before the racers were-suppose to be marshalling, but they ended up having enough people so i was left with nothing to do. Stood outside, in the drizzle/spitting/pouring rain (it alternated in that order all day). There was also a bit of sunshine and a bit of lighting throw in sometime during the day. Was watching the rowers and listening to music.

That's when i saw him. The rowing Adonis. Such a beautiful man that it surpasses the (physical) beauty of H-. Tall and lean, my first glimse was of his face. Fair and flushed with the cold, he looked ruggedly handsome. An aristocratic nose, slim lips pink from chill in the air and lush black hair that curled slighty about his face. A square, strong jaw and excellent bone structure. As he picked up a boat (a single scull, but still) you can see the muscles flex and bulge in his arms. What delicious arms they were. His whole body basically yummy. Broad, well muscled shoulders, tapering to a lean waist. Long legs, all muscle. And such a delectable behind. He was wearing these tiny black cycling shorts-they did nothing to preserve his modesty. Those shorts were literally second skin. He was wearing a loose manky blue t-shirt; still managed to look so sexy. I was staring (gaping) all the while as he walked down to the water, picking up two blades on the way. Boat on one shoulder, blades tucked under other arm. And a perfect view of his perfect ass. I have to emphasize on how gorgeous it is..........Not only that, he's a great rower. Such power and grace. Slow, strong strokes.........Perfect technique and just putting all of it in the water. Then it started to rain a little harder. He was still on the water, rowing about, getting soaked. I was driven to distraction and had to shake my head to clear it......

The fresher teams went out to row a bit later:boys first then girls. The boys looked good, but sadly they lost by a few inches (or feet, depends on who you listen too). There was a bit of drama with the girls: two of them came very late, there was actual risk i may have to row. They came at the nick of time and i had to help with the blades and boat carrying. I'm a too helpful of a pushover. Let it be said. Hopefully by admitting it it will give me some spine. See, there wasnt anyone helping out during our race last year. This year's freshers are pretty lucky. Lotsa senior caring. They did alright-didnt win, but nothing bad happened. Looked like it was quite close as well. I sense dissention among the team though........No saying anything-that's C's area-she need's to manage anything that may come up. I dont know how they'll do as a team though. They're not gelling well, as a whole. Some are real chummy, but there are some ppl that arent too happy with others.

I was soaked, three layer in, from constant rain exposure. Helping the girls get their boat in soaked my sneakers and jeans. Thank god for spare clothes and flip flops. Went to the pub in death bunny hoodie and fave purple flip flops. Must've looked a sight-complete with soaking red anorak. So wet at one point water was sluiceing off it. Spent some time at the pub, had the worst pub lunch ever: never have a cheese and asparagus tart-it'll only make you feel sick later........

Managed to get a drive back. Driving through london is a novelty for me, i rarely get driven about here. Traffic is shit, but the view is mesmerising as always. Chelsea, Kensington, Battersea Park and the bridges look wonderful in the evenings. The driver was the speeding type and so we were whizzing by (and cursing those who got in our way). Ended up at the hayfield, watching the 2nd half of man u vs chelsea. It was an alright game, but i had a horrible view of the screen. A bit upsetting the fact that they drawed.Would've preferred if someone won. Hiked back from the Hayfield and straighaway blogged-before i forget how my rowing Adonis looked like.

All in all had a good day. A little wet and somewhat boring in bits; did i mention im nursing a bit of tonsillitis?

Alas-i can sleep in peace

I am done. Spent. I've finally finished the book. The problem with epic stories is that they stay in your mind. It's distracting to say the least when i need focus-my university work is falling below standard and this i cannot abide.

Would recommend the book to fans of fantasy (be warned those who are squemish!). The warring, politicking and long names in the last part get slightly tedious but it's worth the read. Maybe not so the loss of sleep. But im greedy and impatient.

Worse-im a typical Pisces. A dreamer so easily lost in the tides.

Always torn. For my duality is my strength and my failing.

But alas, i can sleep in peace.

15 hours

Ive been up I5 hours reading that novel. Its the addict in me that wont let go. My obsessive streak that wont let me rest till i finish it. Too bad this doesnt apply to work. I cannot sleep in my room. Ive been lying here in the dark all this while reading. I agree, there is something wrong here.
I managed one lecture, and i had to leave because my head was pounding from lack of sleep. It's the closest i will get to a hangover i think. I dull throbbing across my forehead, head so heavy it might fall off my shoulders. I left before the next lecture with good intentions, to sleep before my lab this afternoon. Once back in my room, i continued to read. I try to sleep, sleep will not come. I toss and turn; then pick up the book again. I am almost at the end. Almost.
I read fast, but still i make the sounds of the words in my head. I read and write phonetically. Which explains my spelling issues.
I will make food and force myself to exercise. Perhaps i will sleep well tonight. As soon as i get to the ending.

Its too early to be awake

A classic phrase from my dad

"It's so late it's considered early"

Yeah.........It is early. And i have been reading since 9 pm. Only stopped to pop a slice of quiche in the microwave for dinner. I've been fairly adept at getting fed (since i still cannot afford food, and my last 2 quid for the week went to paying for my emergency medicine workshop). Thanks k for the quiche! It's lovely.......And i didnt find the cheese disgusting at all, in fact, i thought it was quite yummy.....

This book that has been keeping me hooked for the past 5 hours is called Kusheil's Dart by a Jacqueline Carey. It's close to 2 inches thick and of the fantasy genre. My initiation into the genre began in Pengkalan Chepa. There was a collection of David Edding's books, i cant remeber the series, but i know it begins with the Pawn of Prophecy. It was on the second shelf from the bottom, covered in a thin film of dust. I read the first book, and i was stuck. Blessed be, the rest of the series were lying about the shelf as well; i managed to find them all. It was a fantastic series-appeals to the mystic, dreamer side of me. I like leaving reality behind and immersing myself in a book, even if it means not sleeping at 2 in the morning. Like this book im reading now. Im almost halfway through......It's not the best fantasy book i've read, but it's still engrossing. It begins with a story of a girl who is born with a mark-a Kusheil's Dart-which is a rim of red around the pupil of one eye. To cut a long story short, she grows up to be a spy/courtesan under the employ of rich nobleman with a past. Lotsa kinky details (even i flinch, and it takes a lot to make me flinch) and complex political turmoil. The thing that make this book different is the belief system of the society and the role of sex as a form of worship to a main deity. But then, humans emotions dont stray far. Common themes of lust for power, love and betrayal and all here to make it all understandable. The political plot is a little hard to follow-too many complex names; but politics is politics. The book introduces loads of new words and concepts but after a bit of reading it all becomes clear. I'm liking it so far, its different than stuff ive read recently, so it's refreshing. Last thing i read was Freakonomics and I stopped reading On Beauty just slighty into the book-too real, too emotional. Not that Kushiel's Dart isnt emotional or dramatic-it's just that it's not reality and i that's what i need now, a bit of escapism. I only picked it up at the library because it's the second time ive seen it. First time was in MPH One Utama (when i'm unsure) and the cover art is wicked.

Ah, and the emergency medicine workshop was interesting. Dont judge me harshly for saying this, but i just loved the accent of the HEMS registra who gave the talk to us. The accent and the way he speaks isnt posh queen's english, but its not the rough cockney one either. It just has a nice lilt to it, and well, it's the kinda voice i instantly warm to. Wouldnt i just love him reassuring me in a traumatic situation. He's typically English complete with the sense of humour and an obsession with pubs. Oh, yes, i also learnt a few things: a jaw thrust to maintain airways, how to feel for crepitus and that if you can't apply enough direct pressure on a wound to stop the bleeding by holding on to in, its perfectly understandable to step on it (consider a scenario with spurting femoral artery). There are other things too, but i dont have the energy to type.

Dance went well, had a surprising amount of energy-must've been the HEMS registra. It amazes at the stuff that fuels me: charming men. I didnt even have much to eat today. An omlette for brunch, some biscuits, half a bar of dark chocolate and kidnapped quiche.

I think i did quite well. Must gym tomorrow. I have a confession to make: i am, by medical standards, clinically obese. I checked. I'm hurt, upset and angry at myself, but it is my own doing. I'll figure it out though, i will.

Death Park?

I had the most unusual dream this afternoon

I was visiting a cemetary themepark in Canada (why Canada?). The first scene i remembered was being on a boat, and seeing these colourful decorated boats going up a river. The surroundings were lush and green, and these 'floats' looked a lot like mardi-gras floats. Someone then explained that it was ritual to remember the dead by their families each year-their caskets were on the boats. My first thought was, "isnt better to leave the dead in peace?"

Next thing i remembered was being on a rollercoaster-going up and down on a bright red coaster over a very lush themepark, but i knew it was a cemetary,or more like a place dedicated to celebrating death.

Then i was wandering about the park on my own. There were areas dedicated to different elements and all over was messages about why we shouldn't fear death. The rides were based on the elements, and i only remembered water. It was a small tunnel-water slide......I dreamt there was a slightly frightening guy who was watching over the ride-he looked like a chinese monk. As i went down the slide it wasn't dark, but beigy and mellow-like rice paper illuminated. I was stuck at the end, and had to remove my coat (why i was wearing a coat on a water slide beats me) then i slided out. The landing area consists of a few large pools, a bit like a roman bath.

There was a large poster hanging from the ceiling with a picture of two guys wrestlling (dont ask why, its a weird dream. And it was olympic wrestling guys, not the wwf sort). The message on the poster was, "Water, to cool your nervousness about death" or something to that effect.

Throught the dream i felt uncomfortable, but never scared, except for the time i wandered into a small corner. It was like an old chinese antique store with old dark wood furniture. It was selling those crystal ball things that have water spinning them underneath. I dont know why but i saw a round red crystal spinning in green water and that scared me so much that i ran away.

I blame: Edward Gore, Potatoes and Tuna Mayo, Oxford's textbook on physiology and twinning's herbal tea. Bad combination man, it was such a weird trip.....Oh and i had Tarkio's Tristan and Iseult on a loop in the background. Will never do that again-not just that song in a continuous loop, but the overall dangerous combination.

Good thing i woke up. Prayed and made some food to calm me down. Will trudge on with PBL. Will have regular tea now.........

Things i wish i had said today

"Did you know someone put coke in the still orange and now the whole thing taste like crap?"

"I want to see the doctor, NOW!!!! I think i have a grave endocrine disease that will make me even fatter and uglier!!! No, i dont think it can wait till monday!!!!"

"Does that look like a rash to you? Im worried........."

"Can someone lend me a labcoat and coax me to go to Learning Landscape?"

"Could you do me a favour and wake me in any manner possible if i fall asleep on these pile of books in the library?"

"Do you have to put your hand there?"

"No, you cannot put your hands anywhere near my thighs"

"Do i have to know all this to be a decent doctor? No, that was a rhetorical question......Can you explain what a the difference between a follicular cell and a parafollicular cell?"

"Close the window please-i rather be warm than freezing cold"

"Will the bitches behind me shut up and pay attention the guy speaking in front-stop giggling you stupid bunch of twats"

"You idiots in the back row-i dont want to know what your plans are for tonite-i wanna know what the guy in front is saying. SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"

"I've been eyeing you for a year, you look a bit like Edison Chen......"

"Hiya, how are you guys?"

"Can anybody give me a hug, i kinda need one today"

Love and a mingin' phone booth

There is one boy i'll brave the freezing cold, gale force winds and a mingin', rank phone booth for: my little brother faiz. I love the brat to death-he's my only little brother, the closest HLA match i might ever have; some even say we look similar (but then they also say he's the good looking one).

He's having the biggest exams of his life (so far): This exam may well determine his future and im scared and frightened for him. I've not talked to him for weeks and i've missed him so much. My excuse is i dont wanna get in the way of his studying. I sent him the best good luck card ever-unfortunately he didnt get it. Why the Royal Mail would be so EVIL i have no fucking idea. He deserved that card; you fucking bastards at the Royal Mail. He's a good kid and he deserved that card.

I feel guilty. No card, no calls-what more of a bitch sister can you have? So i brave the cold in my anorak and flip flops to call him at 11 pm at nite. So i can catch him before his exams at 8 in the morning. There's an 8 hour difference-he's earlier.

I wish him good luck and speak to my grandmother a bit. She's looking out for him because my parents are on holiday. Their timing cannot be any worse. I dont know why my mom had to go dubai and meet my dad there. Its not like they've never been. There are more important things. So what if they cant do anything? He needs the moral support. Yeah, so they think he's tough as nails and chilled about the exam. Maybe on the outside-but he's my sweet baby brother inside. He is so freaked out but he wont show it, that's not his way. He needs the parents there-just as a solid presence, moral support, just to be there.

My grandma is the best, but she's old, and to be honest i think my brother is looking out for her more than she for him. He's a good boy, but easily distracted. I doubt my grandma can enforce any discipline on him.

I worry and i fret. And so i will call twice a day, by fucking hook or crook. Broke or not.

I'll give up a lot for this brat. And suffer a lot to. Like losing my sense of smell standing in a mingin phone booth (it smelt of urine and i swear the piss was everywhere, i washed my hands after calling) just to wish him good luck. I'll give up cigarettes for a week, just please, please let him do well. I tried helping him the usual way-tutor him and stuff, but i am shit and crap so that didnt work. So i will pray, HARD. Its all i can do. Im no fatalist, but when there's little else to do divine help is the way to go.

And so i pray.

I pray that your mind will be clear.

I pray that you will be calm.

I pray that you will be eloquent and accurate; you will look at the questions and smile; that you will answer them well.

I pray you know the answers and whichever you guess are correct.

I pray that you will be confident, but not excessively so.

Let him do well in these exams, and also in life, please...........

I ferverently pray

All the best of luck little bro-i love you!

Pretty Henley

I'm back from Henley. I must say its gorgeous. Such a quaint and pretty English town. I even had my first stay in an English village and an English bed and breakfast.

There was much drama getting to friend B's house on friday. Much drama and much money spent. If they had told me earlier i could've saved a good deal of money, but they didnt, and it was all a mess. B's house is only an hour plus away on the train. It's in a village, so we had to be picked up in a car. It was already dark and it was pouring. The drive was quite precarious. Narrow roads and fast cars.....I was worried if a cow strayed on the road.

Unpacked, dressed and proceeded to the pub (8 squished into a 7 seater-not all that bad really). My dad called as we were driving down to Henley-he finds it amusing that i was on the way to the pub; so typically dad. I love dad though and i miss him loads.
Pub was the usual, i was relegated to the non-drinking-games table. Talked to loads of people and it was nice. Went back about 12.30, had tea and my brownies-slept at about one. Three of us shared a double bed and i got the edge. Didnt sleep well at all, i was haunted by dreams and this feeling of falling off a cliff. I was actually falling off the edge of the bed. Woke up too early, dressed, and had massive amounts of toast and tea.
Then the rowing began. The whole weekend took a nosedive from here.
I rowed in every single outing-that was because they thought i was shit and needed practise. All the coaches were screaming at me from the banks-i was just horrible. I was doing it all wrong-all of it. It wasnt just the slides, it was my finishes, it was my timing, it was everything. I felt real shitty. The girl behind me just went,"for fuck's sake" when i was early for the catch the uptenth time. I imagine the rest of the experienced crew thinks the same. They never let me out with the experienced crew. I was put in the same boat as the freshers. That's how nasty i was.
Undenialbly Henley is a lovely stretch of river to row. The water is flat and clean-even the current is a pleasent push. River houses line the bank, there were nice grassy bits and the scenery was amazing. Straight out of a postcard. Even the sun came out and the rain stayed away. Cold as it was, the sun warmed us up nicely. Rowing kept me warm as well, so it was just perfect setting for one of the worst emotional 'downs' ive had in a while.
I felt so out of place. I always did at rowing events but it was more acute this time. The pain of rejection was sharp, like a paper-cut. So small it's hardly visible; but my god did it hurt. If i could row well maybe the weirdness of being the only rower girl that is ugly and fat wouldnt have been so bad. I call it wierdness, but its for the lack of a better word. Its a combination of humiliation, sadness and anger. And a load of other emotions thrown in as well.
The rowing just made me feel horrible. It made me feel so fat, so inadequate, so stupid. I'm even at a physical disadvantage-because my legs are short i dont get a long enough stroke. I didnt do anything right all weekend. It was physical, mental and emotional torture. I had to stroke the boat last year and the truth is i am a crap rower. Everyone from last year was doing so well. They werent screamed at, instead getting praise from the banks. I was ready to cry in the boat. Emotionally now i'm a wreck. I dont blame the rowing-it's been bubbling underneath, but this weekend jut brought all my insecurities into the light. I didnt even do to well socially. Im not interesting or funny. Im not even beautiful (i'll sell my soul just to be pretty, doesnt even have to be beautiful). At least if i were pretty (minimum) i could sit there and be eye candy. And people may like me. But no, i have no charm, wit or converational skill. I wanted to die at the curry. I was the boring wall flower, while everyone else was having so much fun.
I know what's going to happen if i stay. Nothing. I can work hard, but its no good. Nobody will notice. Im not even a fly on the wall, im the paint on the wall. No one notices me. Im just that fat girl about. Im sure half of them dont know my name and probably wont recognize me on the street. I was thinking last year that i may get a post if i put in time and effort. Look where that got me. Half the time in the boat i was contemplating quitting. I'm still upset. Not at anyone, but at myself. Im just so stupid. I cant do anything. I will try and work hard, but it will come to naught. Nothing, i tell you. Rowing is going to be one of things that ive tried and just sucked at-like everything else ive tried in life. Now i remember why i was so suicidal. There's nothing to look forward to really but a life of failure. Im sad now, and my throat's all swelled up like im gonna cry-but ive run out of tears years ago. I keep on forgetting how pointless it is to try. My life will never have meaning. It wont. It just wont. I've tried for so long and i've failed so many times. And i just pick up, superglue bits of me that are broken and try again. To no avail.
I digress. I always do-sometimes even midsentence.
Back to Henley- i injured my back (i suspect sciatica- the pain radiated from my lower back down my right leg-a white blinding pain) on the second outing saturday. I managed to get row back but i was in pain all night. The curry later was expensive, but yummy. Portions were generous and loads of people didnt finish theirs; which i proceeded to help myself. My Balti was quite hot but i finished every bit of it. I was hungry-didnt have a proper lunch-just loads of biscuits and bananas. Skipped the pub on the excuse of the injury-truth was i felt a bit outta place, fat and ugly that evening. Oh, and i started reading the book 'chocolat' at the room. Didnt make it too far-i was asleep soon enough. Exhaustion is good-at least i dont dream. The truth is sad and scary. I dont need much of that nowadays. I want to live my beautiful deluded lie that i've thought out for myself. That i can be amazing, i'm fun, interesting, funny and i could change the world if i tried. It's lie, but i try to believe it. It works most of the time, but sometimes, when the light shines just so, it exposes truths i refuse to believe. So, i close my eyes and lie to myslef all over again.
Got up late in the morning-but had a sumptuous breakfast: sweet tea, cereal, milk, eggs, fried tomatoes and loads of toast. Did i mention the B&B we stayed at was gorgeous? Its an old schoolhouse, painted a lively deep red, inside and out. The rooms had massive beds, herbal tea and ensuite showers. Absolutely lovely. Has the most comfortable beds ever! My back wasnt fucked up in the morning and as (i suspect) as punishment for trash rowing i had to do two outings this morning. Still couldnt row properly, but at least i survived. Im tempted to quit now-there are too many rowers in the 2nd team and i really am the worse of the whole lot.....so.....I'll think about it. I actually like rowing-for the reasons difficult to explain, but i feel that i'm not doing myself or the team any favours by staying in the club. I'll ponder it another day.......
The trip back was uneventful and it cost a third of the trip there.
Tired and hungry as i walked back. Had no money either. Thank god for R. He had hosted lunch earlier and i was invited......Couldnt make it in time for lunch, but woke him from a nap to eat left over arabiatta sauce (manage to get some mussels and prawns) with a slice of toast (nicked of A- thanks!) and tong sui. And muruku. R took good care of me too......thanks mate! Crawled back and have been whining for the past hour.
Really wanna finish off Chocolat-it's a beautiful book, full of magic and sweet delights. And you know i love chocolate. The stuff keeps me alive. Just made a bid on for the book on ebay. About 3 quid, its worth it for a book i want. Hopefully it'll get here soon!

...........

Things have been feeling bleak
Im back where i always was
it feels empty
and hollow and cold

i am left here sitting
with so much to do
but no desire to move

what is the point?
I ask everytime
nobody really cares
i will not change the universe
my ripples will not turn the tides

Once i believed i was important
and now i have loss faith
in my own existance

There is no pain
there is no pleasure
there is nothing

Joy is fleeting, sorrow passes
And im left with nothing to feel
But so much to do.

Mixed bag day

The Bad:
1. It rained all morning-i soaked my fave running shuz
2. I couldnt run as well as i should
3. I slept in lectures
4. I ate too many eggs
5. I ate too much.
6. I'm left with only a quater of the brownies
7. I was a fool in pbl- i really need to do pbls well
8. We didnt get to ride the big slides at tate modern
9. My knees, calves and thighs hurt from all that running
10. I exceeded my RDA (recommended daily allowance) of cigarettes-i chained smoked them too
11. Have nasty garlic breath
12. I cannot dance-i cannot manage the squats, the bends and the leans. The choreography eludes me.
13. I cannot do a double piroutte.
14. There is a jump in our choreography. Die.
15. Im in my room alone-there are 2 major parties going on tonite. Too exhausted to even think of going to either.

The Good
1. I went to the gym. Did about 30 mins decent cardio. At least i got outta bed
2. I now know how nasty endoscopies are
3. Bart's library is beautiful-all old wood and comfy chairs. Its not like a library at all, its more like a gentlemen's sitting room. All i need are cigars and port.
4.Went on 2nd floor slides at the tate modern. That rocked!!! Loved it. The thrill of going so fast, it ended too quickly. Must get on tall slides-must!
5. Made nasty jokes about modern art-heheheh, being bitchy is fun!
6. Found the perfect painting for Jeff Buckley's Nightmare by the Sea
7. Had yummy pasta for dinner and 3/4 of a garlic bread baguette. And 1/6 of a lemon meringue pie
8. I can do a decent single piroutte now!
9. I've taken books out to do pbl-i got all the books i wanted.

The Ugly
1. Im always ugly
2. Hair was particularly ugly today
3. Clothing was a disaster-i look so bad in those trousers...is it just me or is my butt getting big?
4. Going to Henley tomorrow-anticipating the worse. Keep an eye out for news

Its autumn and my soul knowns it

Something about walking along the canal and looking over that patch of grass.
Damp grass covered with soggy yellow leaves.
You can smell the earthly rot of the leaves crushed underfoot.
The sky a uniform grey
between the gnarled branches of the solitary tree
dropping bright yellow
dead leaves.

And malancholy sweeps over my soul

Tristan and Iseult

I blame tristan and iseult. The song made me go to the movies and get a monthly pass i clearly cannot afford.

Well, i was sick of staying in, so i threw on some clothes and walked (ran!) the way to the cinema.

And on the street the hero stands.
The female lead hand in hand and he says,
"Oh god i love you, but you trouble me."
She pushes him away.

"So what did you think?"
"It was Ok i guess. That story's pretty old. It's pretty cliched and hackneyed i thought, i thought."

Said Tristan to Iseult.

The real deal by Tarkio
“Would you like to go out tonight?”said Tristan to Iseult. “It's a lovely night to go to the Odeon; sit in the back row. Sick of staying in.” So they threw on some clothes, walked slowly down the street, lit by lantern light, through the market square, studied the marquee,bought two tickets and some popcorn. And on the screen the hero stands, the female lead, hand in hand, and says,“God I love you, but you trouble me.” She pushes him away. And as the credits role, Tristan turned to Iseult, said, “What did ya think?” “It was okay, I guess.That story's pretty old. It's a bit clichéd and hackneyed, I thought; I thought.” And back out on the street they stopped for some ice cream. Talking quietly, there was nobody in the room in which they sat, as he reached across the table. And just as their fingers caught, timidly, he whispers to her and says, “God I love you, but you trouble me.” Said Tristan to Iseult.

I cant find the song anymore. This troubles me. Because i wanna listen to it again. Badly. Thanks to the guy who featured the lyrics on his blog; dude-i hope it doesnt end this way for you. And you write brilliant poetry(shshaw_shshaw).

To Borat or Not?

I shall throw caution to the wind. So what if I'm broke-I shall go watch Borat, eat good food and have fun in Henley.
My bank manager will hunt me down, I will be wearing primark clothes all year but i will be happy.
I will pray that daddy makes a load of money this year. I will pray that i get a good part-time job. I will pray for a rich boyfriend who has a nice house and a vespa (in addition to the fancy cars, but cars arent practical in london).
I will do uni work consistantly and exercise at least four times a week. I will add at least 100m metres to my running time everyday at the gym. I will run. I will dance. I shall try to read more too, and be intellectual.
I'm starting to be organised as well, with my 'pengangkutan peladang trg sdn.bhd.' diary.
Wish me luck, pray for me and give me a hug when you see me. I like hugs. Especially big, bear hugs.

I am the worst daughter in the world.
Why?
1. I dont call home that often. It got so bad that my parents had to call looking for me-they were wondering if i was still alive.
2. I dont email.
3. I do exactly the opposite of what im told to do; when in front of mom and dad i promise to do exactly what they tell me to
4. I think about them often enough, but not all the time.
5. The worse trangression so far-i woke my mom up in the middle of the night to ask her why i couldnt call the house phone. I was ever so slightly pissed as well. I was smoking away as i was talking to her. I finished one cigarette; and as she was assuring me that my little brother was doing fine, i was trying to light the next cigarette. I bet she knows. I betcha she could smell the smoke thru the phone.

I really feel like shit. I love them to death, i do. But i also hold on to the saying,"what parents dont know wont kill them'.

So, they should never have any of their suspicions confirmed. They are allowed to imagine and suspect the worst-it's a parental right. My dharma as a daughter is to never let them know that im a screwed up little shit. That i'm not their pride and joy. That im not a wonderful, well-balanced individual that they tried so hard to raise me to be.

I open my eyes to see him at the door. I was properly asleep and it took me awhile to comprehend what was happening. The first thought on my mind was,
'do i have decent sleeping clothes on?'
I do sleep with very little on sometimes
Then it was,
'shit, i should lock the door when i sleep'.
I didnt even hear the knocking on the door, but knowing him he was probably trying to catch me unawares. Really unaware-i was in deep sleep. But i was impressed at my self-preservation instinct. My eyes flashed open the moment the door opened. Too bad i was too slow to throw the knife i keep under my pillow (im kidding, i dont keep a knife under the pillow-though a wish is to sleep with a man that does)(another wish is to snog a guy with a tongue stud).

No, he's neither. But really, he's been very wierd this past year. I blame Italy. I mollycoddled him there and now he thinks im such a pushover and a 'feeder of the world'. Ok, i admit i like feeding people, but this guy takes full advantage of it. Everyone knows i'm a pushover, but 'the amazing weekend' has given me an infusion of bitchiness that making me bolder, stronger and as confident as ever.
But this boy, he loves to make fun of me. I've been teased, joked about and bullied (not maliciously) with such fervour. I know they dont mean it maliciously, but it does hurt sometimes. I know i brush it off and laugh, but every joke is like a little cut, like the ones a friend used to make on his arm when he was feeling bad. That friend has beautiful scars on his arm. Pain and suffering documented. I've not talked to him in so long. Last i heard he's doing well.
I used to cut myself, but i've stopped doing it physically. Smoking has replaced it somewhat. Worst, i give myself psycological cuts.
But back to the boy-who-opened-the-door-and-almost-got-knifed (BWOTDAAGK)
He's footie mad. How typical. He's not a typical kind of guy i'd hang with. Maybe its because i was always wary of malay boys who loved football. I dont like football-no one in my family likes football and all my life i've been friends with non-footie fan boys. Im disgressing. Sorry.

Anyway, back to BWOTDAAGK. He and his best mate got me watching football. I admit i've always been fascinated by football. It's always been something everyone was into but i wasnt. I played decent football as a kid-but i never did sit and watch matches. So sometime last year they introduced me to watching footie. I admit, its engrossing. They also introduced me to a new way of seeing the world-it's all a major football game. There are managers, players, transfer markets, gameplays, coaches and strategies.
Its fascinating that a lot of footie occurances/events can be used to simplify complicated human interaction and relationships. To men. Men, typically like BWOTDAAGK, use football to explain the world and understand it. Im starting to understand it to. I can see how football anaolgies can be used to explain the world. From emotions to economics-football can act as example to all.
Ok, and now the real story. See, my preambles are super-long. Dont anybody ever say 'she was a good story teller' in my eulogy. Apparently it's code for 'she really couldnt shut up'.

The story is, Theo Wallcot has come to Queen Mary. Young, talented and able. And very cute. For those particularly slow-Theo Wallcot is code.
There are many managers in London who've heard of Theo. And they all want a piece of Theo. When Theo came down, there was a storm among the managers. Theo is cute, sweet and amiable. Very social butterfly, with an innocence that managers cannot resist. And so everyone stood up and strted paying attention to Theo; who by coming to Queen Mary has made Queen Mary famous. I gained enourmously from this. I'm like the assistant coach of second division team in which Theo playes. Everywhere i go, and i say im from QM, everyone asks me if i know Theo. In the whole race to get Theo signed up somewhere, a few key managers have come out. As far as i can tell there are about 5 main managers all trying to lure Theo in.
This is where BWOTDAAGK come in. He's a manager. And as far as i can tell, he's leading the race to get Theo. It helps that he is in close proximity with Theo. So far he's moving in fairly quickly and efficiently. Theo surprisingly is oblivious to all the attention. Theo seems to be taking all of this into stride, and many managers find this refreshing compared to former 'star' players who are good and KNOW they're good.
There's only one problem with BWOTDAAGK's plan. He unfortunately already has star striker and he cant do a Chelsea and sign in another (It's a moral issue, not a practical one). He's pretty loyal with his star striker(i suppose, but i have reason to doubt-there are things i've heard-side dealings and none-FIFA-approved discussions) .They've been a good team for awhile. The thing is as a manager he's happy with his star striker, but of course Theo is new, shiny and near. And maybe just a little bit better with the penalties. And thus a dilemma. To have and not to hold. I know how it feels. To win this race of who can get Theo is also an ego boost. To have succeeded where other managers have failed. Which makes things worst because he cannot morally sign Theo on.
And i feel bad for Theo. This manager has been inviting Theo for practise sessions and hanging out with the rest of the team. Theo is probably enjoying it all and really liking the manager who showering all this attention and care. But then at the back of Theo's mind there is no chance of being signed to the team. Unless Theo is up for being a substitute to star-striker. And i can imagine that in some cases you cant help but want to play for a team. Especially if the manager has been working so hard to get you.

So the story goes. I am merely an observer. A BBC/Guardian of sorts (i'd rather not be ITV or The Sun thanx). I wish i had principles to disapprove. I wish i had principles, period. But i never condemn. Because we all have our flaws. Its being human. Oh, and i love drama. My live is bland and so i delve in the drama of others. I even create drama to make life exciting. In a way im tired of just watching relationship drama. I want my own.

I would fall in love and fall out just to feel the highs and the lows.

And if you are ever in doubt if to pull a duvet of a girl sleeping in a kaftan-dont. Just dont.

A Midfielder's Scribbles

I honestly would never be a midfielder in real life, but you know what i mean (im an effective goalie in real life-it's where girth is an advantage). Had bestfiend over for gossip, dinner and brownie making yesterday. We had a late dinner of garlic bread and bolognaise with sainsbury's cream caramel for pudding. We gossiped like mad for hours later-amazing that it wasnt just gossip....It was philopsophical musings about how love and attraction works. Why we love and adore the people that we do and how the malay word 'pasrah' describes perfectly how i feel about H-. How with some people we are chickens-we care enough to give them eggs for breakfast, we're willing to give up something for them. For a few people though, we are ham- we are willing to sacarifice ourselves and die just to be their breakfast.

It was enlightening and entertaining conversation combined with gossip and good music. Later, she helped me with brownies-I tried my mom's recipe this time and it came out pretty good. I always fret with brownies. They never turn out perfect. Always slighty flawed. A bit like yours truly me thinks. Sugary, brunt crust on the top, but cakey and fudgy in the middle. Should be perfect in about 3 days. Brownies age well. The oil from the butter will rise to the surface, making the crusty, sugary shell soft and give the surface a pretty sheen. And the flavours will become more complex as the sugary taste recedes to the background and the cocoa and raw flavor of the brown sugar comes up. Patience is everything in cooking. Bestfriend is a very technical cook, while im a instinctive one so our styles do clash slightly. Bestfriend would be an amazing baker. Perfection is everything in baking- i guess that's why its not my forte.

I managed to stay on the bed this time rather than have bestfriend shove me off the bed again. She did it once and so i learnt my lesson. I slept next to the wall. Sleep was good and peaceful. Your teeth grinding doesnt bother me hun, and i hope i didnt toss and turn too much.

Its nice to have milk and brownies for breakkie (no eggs, or meat products-and no, i dont eat ham). Except bestfriend doesnt like milk, and i suspect she doesnt fancy brownies too much either. Took too long to get ready, and made bestfriend late for lunch meet with friends. Was dressing up for H- but he didnt show up. How sad.......I looked fat and ugly today, so i guess its a good thing.

But thoughts for today, in no particular order

-If you have a lot in common with someone it doesnt mean your kindred, does it? I have to come out with criteria for kindred ranking. As a rule kindredship is mutual and instinctive

-Its so disconcerting that someone you dont really like has so much in common with me. Dont kick me off your team, please

-Why do we always fall for men we cannot have

-Why does football analogies work? And why do i understand them so well. Somehow i'm a great analyst, but horrible at living the life i analyze so well.

-What do people see in me? I see nothing but veneer and lies. I have loads of acquantainces but so few friends. Im no one's stricker-merely a midfielder. I think im in someone's starting 11, but i know for many others im just a sub. Only when there's no one else

- I want to be someone's Bobby Moore. I think i cant be a anyone's Bobby Moore yet because im too lazy and there is a lack of opportunity.

- Why some girls have it all. I cannot hate them (most of them are lovely) but they drive me crazy

-Why some people think Duracell Bunny is pretty. I dont think so, she's ok.....but just soo duracell bunny.........

-Will someone ever be my ham?

-Which is more unromantic-'I'll be your ham' or 'Ich Liebe Dich'?

-Has H- found out that im obsessed about him? I just met his housemate today- it took all my self control to not kidnap this guy and force H- to be ransom. But his housemate did ask me to join them for shisha one of these days. Very pressing about it too. Maybe someone did blab-im fucked!

- Is it possible to fall in love with a none-kindred?

I dont know you anymore. I dont blame you, its all my fault. It saddens me so, because i loved so much, and i think i still do.
You were the cornerstone of my life for so long. You were the person i knew who would love me in spite of my stupidity, insanity and boring-ness. You kept me alive and made my life complete. I needed you so much and you were there.
Time and space seperated us initially and yet we faced it all. You worked so hard to stay in touch. To make sure i didnt change. To keep me sane. I loved you for it.
Now, oceans apart, I suspect time, distance and my laziness has taken its toll. My fear has always been that you'll find someone else to love and you'll forget me. There is someone else, and for your sake i am so glad that you've found happiness and love at last. You, of all people i know, deserve it.
I yearn to see you again. To speak to you. To hug you close. Its been too long, and i was never good at writing anyway. We're talking friends.

I lost a post. I never knew it was possible, but i did. It must've been something i did, but im gonna put it back up. Because it warrants a spot in my paper-saving diary. I worry slightly about putting up all the shit i've been up to in here-one or two of my mates read it. There's one in particular i worry about. You know who you are.
I took time to type this dowm when i got back from Nottingham. i was exhausted and sleepy, but im quite amazed at the depth of insight i have when im high and happy. (i have a low threshold- i can get high on sugar........)

This was scrawled in the dark on an NX coach on my way back from Nottingham. It is still in my diary, that's why i can re-post it.

I understand why i sleep. I sleep to dream. To stop thinking. Because my mind wanders. And not in creative pursuits and thinking about higher metaphysical things. Or practical things even. I focus on problems and issues. And i get jealous, worry and get sorrowful. And then i sleep. I sleep to quiet my thoughts. To let my dreams clarify my thoughts. Because to me my subconcious knows the truth. It's the real me. Past all the lying, the fakery and the untruths; half-truths and veneer. My subconcious knows what/who i really am. It's the real me. It is free of all the stupid unclear thoughts. I dream my truth.

Yeah, it makes sense to me. I get why i sleep. Its escapism. Its to stop the worry. But i hardly dream the truth anymore. Its because i dont sleep that well.

Anyway-life (in an everyday sense: my room, laundry, kitchen cupboards) is a mess. Must get it all clean. Feng Shui wise it should help-clear the area and let energy flow. It'll help clear the clutter in my head too.

Im sorry i didnt have time to say hello to everyone and if i dont remember who you are or your name. My subconcious remembers, but she can be a bitch who doesnt want to work with the rest of my brain.
To everyone i met-lets see more of each other! Take care till i see you next.
To all the people ive just met and bummed ciggies from: thank you. It was nice to have met you all, and look me up whenever you're in town.
Ely darling- you were a fantastic host. And your housemates are a blast. Shall come again and we can get into proper trouble!
To long-lost friends in Ireland-it was nice to talk again and reminisce. Must see you all more!! And to the Galway guy who tak sedar im at England-i merajuk betul-betul baru tau!!!
To people nearest but not necessarily dearest: lets be better friends. I promise not to be such a loner freak no more. Dont abandon me ok?

I want someone look out for me
Im tired of looking out for myself
I want someone to care
When im in blinding pain
Bent double, trying to sleep it away

Perhaps its karma
I cannot care for others
And thus no one cares for me.

Simple terms
for a simple girl.

My life deals in cash shares
There's no two-ways about it
Action and reaction
There is no free lunch.

So i'll just lie here
Pop pills to make it go away
Buy some food
Get some fags
And I'll be better
And no one needs to care.

It's officially time to take out the winter coats. This for me is bad tidings. I dont do too well in the cold. Im not an icy winter princess. Its so cold i shiver when i open my curtains-i have condensation building up on my windows. I keep my room warm, maybe even too warm. My body cant keep me warm enough i have to rely on heaters.
The cold makes me sleepy and lazy. All i want to do is snuggle under the covers-i now have to duvets piled in the bed......warm......The cold also make me sad. I use sad very generally, but winter sadness is not a depressed kind of sad-more of malancholy kind of sad. I read somewhere that malancholy and depression is different. The world needs malancholy. Its like grounding ourselves to reality. Its not forgetting about problems and troubles and just focusing on fun. Malancholy's ok. Its better than depression i suppose. A key diagnosis in depression is that the extreme sadness felt gets in the way of doing things. Disabled by depression. Malancholy is living life and being aware that life is not all happy joy-joy.
Been eating too much again. I cannot believe my body requires more fuel even though i have enormous stores. I have a body that can survive the next ice age. I havent bought food in the past week except my 2.70 quid breakfast this morning at the cafeteria. It was a fantastic fry-up-sausages, toast, beans and potatoes. It should be my one meal for the day. I may have a potato salad later, but i dont have any veg anymore. Im so broke i cant afford food. Well, i could if i dug deep, but i really shouldnt buy food. And, worse-im going to Nottingham this weekend for 3 days. Im staying with a friend-but im not sure i can afford to travel, eat and go out. I may have to put my hand in the cookie jar again. I dont want to-that money is suppose to go for my christmas trip. I really wanna enjoy myself then.
Money is a whole other issue. There's that and my lack of a social life. I suspect its linked to being broke, but then, loads of people are socially ok-they all cant be rich, can they? Most of my mates arent broke, and we get the same anount of money. Ok, i pay through the nose for that gym membership-thank god its gonna end soon. Its been good, but i just havent been controlling my food intake. I wish i could be anorexic-just for awhile.....I have such food issues-i should really have an eating disorder. Oh wait, i already do, its eating too much!
My issues at the moment:
1. I have no money
2. I'm so lethargic and lazy (i suspect its medical)
3. I dont study enough
4. I dont go out enough
5. There's no one to whine to (the blog doesnt count-it cant give me a hug, can it?)
6. I have an exam tomorrow
7. I left my jacket at the library
8. Its too cold
9. I miss family
10. I worry about Faiz

I was listening to this one song, and suddenly it occured to me that i've sung it before in front of H-. Yes, love of my life H-. Its a gorgeous, heartbreaking song which i proceeded to destroy-very painfully. It was an audition, and at that time i was still deluded thinking i could sing. The song was mainly in a fairly low key but had high bits. Basically you needed to have good range and a solid low key voice. I had a sore throat. I croaked at parts. No idea how embarrassing that was. I flushed red and wanted to die there and then. And the most heartbreaking moment that killed singing for me forever was when the teacher annouced that im tone deaf-with H- in the small room. H- was the pet favourite of the teacher and a music club darling. He was there practising and just hanging out. I just wanted the earth to swallow me up and spit me out in Mongolia. But here's H-'s song. It wasn't the song i sang, but it's the song that best represents how i feel about him. It's hard to explain, but listen to it and you'll know what i mean. It's Crystal Baller by one of my favourite band of the nineties-Third Eye Blind.

I close my eyes and I see a freak,
I think it’s me and I’m afraid to speak
I keep on going from weak to weakness
Way out in a lie.
I dream of lives we could have had before
But the heat is broke down
Open doorways.
Friends of yours
Tell me more
What happens in your mind

Can we try and take the high road
Though we don’t know where it ends
I want to be your crystal baller
I want to show you how it ends

Macramé queens in the afternoon
And I’m in tune or did I speak too soon
Punch drunk up on somebody’s joke
What happened to the time
A footnote in your dance of days
In my mind that record still plays
Still wonder what the fuck it says
Hoping there was time

Can we try and take the high road
Though we don’t know where it ends
I want to be your crystal baller
I can show you how it ends

Can we talk about tomorrow
And the promise that it brings
I want to be your crystal baller
I want to show everything

I wonder what the whole things for
I wonder what the whole things for
In the moment you were screaming at me
You would have been somebody else
And the patrons of the pub keep singing
Macramé queens in the afternoon
And I’m in tune or did I speak too soon
Punch drunk up on somebody’s joke
What happened to the time

I dream of lives we could have had before
And the heat is broke down
Open doorways
Like waiting for a trick to score
It seems that way some times
I wonder where we’re all going
I’m homesick for your primal knowing
I wonder why the wind keeps blowing you through my mind

Try and take the high road
Remember we were friends
I want to be your crystal baller
I want to be your diamond ring

The one I never gave you
And the promise that it brings
Let me be your crystal baller
I will show you everything
I’ll be your crystal baller