There is something immortally sad, sir;
of being intoxicated with the ocean.

What does this have to do with a watery owl & his carrot?
NOTHING!
But it is the beginning of what I'm going to do this holiday. Paint! I'm going to paint my life away! Robots and silly animals - I'll paint only things that make me happy.

I'll print rain-drop patterns on my dress and sew myself a new cardigan. Then I'll take my beloved plastic cameras & run all over Singapore taking artistic 'blurry' photos and spend a fortune developing them, no doubt.

Then I'm gonna fly to the moon with my jet-propelled butt and paint it bright garish yellow all over with a big smiley face & a dash of crimson at the corner so that back on earth, it'll look like the Comedian's badge from the Watchmen. Then I'll fly back home & watch Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy non-stop while eating chendol & hokkien mee - at the same time.

Oh, that invincible feeling you get when the holidays start.

I was listening to a friend mention how blogs are a thing of the past.
No one reads long boring posts about people's life anymore.
No one is interested in your online diary of painfully dreary events.
Razor fast Twitter & Facebook status updates are the Now - goodbye ole' blogs, you're just a platform for pretty pictures & the occasional sarcastic rantings.

I agree with her. It's true.

No one wants to type out whole sentences anymore, worrying about how the prose sounds and whether your grammar is spot on. It's damn tiring trying to think of how to open a blog post, how to structure the body & how to end it without sounding like a total blithering cretin.
It's so much easier to chuck out a "HOT LIKE HELL 2DAY, LOL :(" on Twitter than to cough out a "That merciless ball of flaming killer sambal star called the sun decided to kill all human beings on the earth today by ruthless ... ..." etc. etc. Needless verbiage.

Perhaps that's why I never caught up to the Twitter and Facebook rapid-fire status updates about your personal life. I'm a dead old fashion literary antique.

I can't appreciate reading words grabbed out from thin air with nary any background story whatsover, strung together on barely-there grammar & spelling & blared into your face like the climax of an Avery cartoon.

That's why I still love reading well-written blog posts. I'd rather read beautiful verbiage than ugly, character-limited remarks that add no value whatsoever to my life.
*Abrupt post end*

obligatory pretty pics from here.

Let's be free fools for a moment.
I'll put on my magic sneakers
& run into the clouds up there.

I won't fall down because I'm a god;
That foolish god with magic sneakers.

☆

You see how huge my chocolate birthday cake is?
There is more cake than there is birthday girl.

Why this wu liao post?
Ask the cosmos!
The tripartite realms of chocolate, cake and icing sugar are pierced resolutely through by the plastic stem of the candles - it is the axis in which we understand happiness by.

After a horrific experience with the marketing paper, (that was surely the most dreadful exam I've ever committed to paper) I pray that the 'kind' teachers will do good on their promise that 'no one ever fails marketing'.

On the other hand, did I mention that East Asian art was tough?
Well, South East Asian art is tougher. And messier than a relationship on Days of Our Lives. Cultures start to unforgivingly blur into one another & you are left sorting out names longer than 10 alphabets and temples that look alike but aren't.

So you see...

I have to listen to 12 lectures. Each lasting 1.5 hr. That makes it 18 hrs worth of staring at the computer listening to his mind-numbingly dull voice drone on at twice the negative speed of sound.
This followed by a reading session of my least favourite kind of book ... The Textbook.

I am not enjoying this.

If ever there were fairies in the world. She'd be one.