The reader accepts, on reading of this disclaimer, that the Internet is a vast wasteland of crap that spews out of human minds. This blog is no different. Any assumptions or conclusions that the reader draws from this blog are not the responsibility of the author, along with any physical or psychological harm that might result from the reading of this blog.
Author
The author is a paranoid, deranged and cynical misanthrope who records snippets of her life so that she will remember them when she grows old and withered. The identities of any names or initials on this blog are based on the assumptions of the reader unless otherwise specified, and the author claims no responsibility for them.
Reality
The author somehow got into medical school. Yes, you of the general public, shudder and fear the wrath of an inept doctor.
Loves
Reading, Maisy (my dog), tea, writing (albeit badly), piano, music, junk food.
Hates
Almost everything else besides the things mentioned above.
Friends
Bao Cheng' Bernice' Chien Young' Chun Hing' Claire' Faustina' Felicia' Ferly' Gloria' Irene' Irene & Jiaying' Jac' Jiamin' Jiasin' Jiaying' Lutheng' Karene' Marissa' Melesa' Mingyi' My fictionpress' Pamelia' Pei Rong' Qiu Ting' Rachel' Satires Site' Stasia' Sylvia' The Clique' Vinette' Wenjia' Xin Rong' Xue Ying' Yanne & I' Yanne & Jamie' Zeena' 203'
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Chat area
Yes, I got facebook.
Anyway, I'm getting bored of it. After one day. HAHA.
Spent yesterday afternoon in a one-on-one mother-daughter grocery/gift-shopping (don't you just love using hyphens/dashes?) session. Utterly boring and contrived. One of the workers at my mum's shop's having her birthday 2 days after mine, and she's been hinting for a birthday present. So my mum dragged me out shopping for one in a post-exam trip.
I got pissed off after my mum said that she'd buy me a present so that she'd have something to tell that kid when she asked. So the whole point of getting me a gift was so that she could 'prove' herself to be a nice, caring parent who gave a crap about her kid's birthday. Right.
Not that she remembered to buy me one anyway.
She also said that it was unnecessary to buy me a present because I use her money to buy stuff anyway. Excuse me?! I only bought my mp3 player because I won $200 from that Maths competition. She probably thought I was splurging her money, from her 'so expensive?' attitude towards it when she found out.
One of the reasons I don't go shopping (besides the fact I think it's useless and masochistic) is because I don't have the financial means, and I feel bad spending her hard-earned money. To assert that I do so when I don't is totally unjustified.
I didn't bother to correct her. She'd just think of a hundred other rebuttals, and I really can't stand it. Which is why I wanna move out once I get to uni. I almost hate my family.
It sounds mean, yes. But what would you do if you have been living under the same roof as 3 other strangers all your life? 3 other humanoids who don't understand you and wouldn't give a sh*t about how you feel?
My dad's been suggesting all sorts of birthday trips for me, none of which I like. Fishing, driving around the 'country-side', going to the beach. He doesn't even know what I like. I think if I suggested that I'd rather go to a bookstore/curl up and read a book all day, he'd think I was mad. The fact is that he doesn't understand me at all, and doesn't really try to. The times when I sit in the car after he's picked me up and pretend to be asleep to avoid the contrived conversations. Other times when I just nod and hmm my way through them.
I don't reckon I'll miss them too much if I go overseas to study. What would really keep me here is Maisy, whom I can't bear to leave. I know that she'll probably forget me after I've been gone for about 5 years, but that doesn't mean I'll forget her.
This is why I think birthdays are insignificant and pointless. And why I envy kids who have parents who bother spending days and weeks thinking and scouting around for the perfect gift, for the perfect birthday for their child. I envy kids whose parents don't just think of them as living testimonies for their self-worth, as pieces of paper with numbers scrawled on them, as graduates of God-knows-which high-ranking uni, or as a high-profile multi-millionaires. And I envy those kids whose parents love them despite how badly they might do in an exam, or what they choose as their future vocation.
But then I remember that I'm luckier than 75% of the people in the world because I have a roof over my head, and food on the table, and probably an IQ higher than the average person. And then I don't know whether to think I'm lucky or not.
2:57 PM