The Breaking of The Curse

June 19th. That fateful day. My birthday.

I have officially turned 23. That is the process of my life. I believe that age is just but a number, it does not dictate the amount of experience I have. Neither does it determine the maturity that I possess. In this 23 years of my life, despite me not achieving my life long goal of becoming a docile husband, I feel I have achieved a lot in my time.

I had a dinner party thrown by a few good friends of mine a couple of hours back, food cooked by the ever-entertaining Tasha & William and when we sat down to enjoy our after dinner wine and chat about the 70s and 80s music, I popped the question which had most of my friends stumped. I asked them if they had a choice to go back in time and change one thing they absolutely regret or they could head into the future and see how their life is there so they could change the present, which would they pick?

I may be loaded with humiliating moments that will haunt me till the day I wither and rot, but my choice would be neither. I do not live my life with regrets and I would not change my life in any other manner. It made me the way I am. Despite me taking the longer journey to my state of mind now, I still made it. Through series of events I have battled my way through life and I think I came out a winner. That would be my accomplishment and I would not have it any other way.

As for the future...I am interested to know. Who isn't? But to live my life day after day knowing that my life would end up the way it is in the future can take the fun out of the spontaneity in the present. I rather choose to live my life day by day.

I came back home with a smirk on my face, mostly cause my birthday curse has finally been broken, but also because a friend of mine said it's bullshit to not have at least one regret in one's life.

"What's your regret?"

"..."

Chains

Tis the season of break ups and breakdowns.

A friend of mine whom I've gotten quite close with the past few months got out of a month old relationship and is now dwelling in a hole of contempt and denial.

Another friend of mine broke up with her boyfriend because she was heading to Melbourne to pursue her degree and since she was thrown out of her comfort zone (her relationship of 3 years + her move to Australia) she is now desperately trying to establish a new one.

Meet Wilburt. A down to earth, hilarious and razor sharp guy who's world was turned upside down after crossing paths with a girl who shall be unnamed. Trying to hide his true feelings and avoiding his problems with tears of sorrow in solitude.

And last but not least, Donovan. After finding out his boyfriend has been cheating on him for the past few years is now confused on whether he should continue his relationship.

What do these people have in common? Denial. They choose to believe that not facing their problems would be the easiest solution to their distress. Despite knowing the truth they tend to lie to themselves and what is horrific is that they choose to believe in the lie. Lying is a part of human nature, whether it may be a little white lie to make someone feel better or a blatant one to cover up one's mistakes. But the worst lie of all is when one lies to him/herself and would not accept the truth.

When it comes to breaking up, I believe that it's better to face the truth with your heart on your sleeve and acknowledge the fact: it's over. I do not see stupidity in people, I see people who aren't willing to accept. No one is saying that the truth won't hurt. It would, but isn't that the part of the process of healing?

These people seek for comfort in me, that's what they all say, but instead they just want me to tell them the obvious. Not to sugarcoat things, but to tell them the honest truth. They ask me how should they get over someone. For me it's easy. To find closure is the only way. It could be as simple as an unsent handwritten letter to your once-loved one or it could be as drastic as cutting them out of your life. But closure only brings you that far. Then it's totally up to you to acknowledge it and LET IT GO.

I look back at my relationships and yes, there is no denying that I have been hurt or I have hurt my exes but I do not see it in a pessimistic manner. I choose to re-live the experiences of joy and happiness and even the depressing moments of my relationships and smile. Because that's the only way I know how to deal with these experiences and I believe that this would help me in my process called Life.

I remember laying on the bed in my Ex's room reading and him on my left snoring softly. I kissed him and whispered "I love you" in his ear hoping that he would have me in his dream. My moment of pure intimacy. I look back at this and smile.

I remember being thrown around in Perth and having my ex hit me across the face and dragging me across the carpeted floor and went back to Sydney with bruises and carpet burns all over my elbows. I look back at this and smile.

These are my experiences. If I could go back in time I wouldn't have changed a thing. Why? Because I have acknowledged it and let it go with a big pearly white smile across my face.

I may not be a prime example of someone who is an expert in relationships and breakups but I think I've done a pretty good job considering I'm still sitting here, alive and well.

So, don't take my word for it. Experience it and see if it works for you.

Convention Contortion

I really envy the people who can get drunk very easily. Why? Simple. It's cheaper.



The past few days I've been employed by Hess to be one of their exhibition staff which was held at the KLCC Convention Centre. The pay was good and it was recommended by a good friend of mine who worked side by side with me throughout the three days. I had to basically lug things around, pack hundreds of goodie bags, speak to engineers about career opportunities and what Hess does and also give them chocolates. Not to mention being hit on by old men, not because I'm good-looking don't get me wrong (insert Zoolander Theme here), but because they wanted a cup of hot coffee.

Unwrapping literally hundreds of paper bags and shoving Hess newspapers and pamphlets inside practically gave me a dozen papercuts which I don't really notice until I get back home and start wondering why the heck do my fingers itch. I found a really tiny piece of paper stuck in
my finger actually.

Yes I spent the whole 3 days speaking to people, showing them my pearly whites despite me sweating through my red polo shirt. Conversations usually went like this:

"Hello! Would you like a Hess chocolate?"

"Mm." *Looks at the wrapping* "What is this?"

"Chocolate."

"Oh! Choklit ah? Wah so nice ah. Tenk-U."

OR

"So what does your company do?"

"Hess actually does exploration and the production of oil."

"Okay, do you currently have any projects?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I'm actually the exhibition staff *shows name-tag*
but if you want, I could have one of the people from Hess speak to you
regarding your inquiry."

"No it's okay. Thanks."

Okay most of my conversations went like that. The ones that were annoying went something like this:

"You're Carigali Hess right? Do you know so-and-so?"

"Sorry, this is NOT Carigali Hess. Hess is actually the parent company of Carigali Hess."

"Oh. But is so-and-so here?"

"....No."

Poor thing, these people don't know that Kathia and I bitch about the marketing people who drop names just to show off to their little friends that they know people.

The last day was interesting though. I got insulted by a passer-by who apparently thought I looked like I had a hard life and gave me a freebie toy from Schlumberger. Yes, my partner in crime and I raided the whole Hall 1 convention centre to get a Phua Chu Kang contractor
hat, a small football, a few pens and notebooks, sunglasses, caps and bags.

So the 3 days of working was gone, and I got paid quite a bit from it, only to spend it all in one go on Friday night with my friends at Liquid. It was good money down the drain, literally since I puked out my insides on the side of the road. Like all other alcohol induced nights, only bits and pieces of what actually happened would haunt me till the day I kick the bucket. I remember the dancing, the wild whorish dancing. Slutty as it may be with the rubbing and the popping of the hips, I still have fun despite shivering everytime I think about it.

That's me, Whora Flynn Boyle.

The Dawn Of Awakening

"Why? Why are you doing this to me? Haven't I given you everything you want?"

"I don't want your meaningless gifts, I don't want your distasteful flattery, and most of all I don't want you," he said while turning his back.

I looked at him hoping to catch a glimpse of remorse in what he said. I bit my lip to fight back the tears. I loved him so much, how can he just throw away whatever we had just like that? Like a million pieces of glass, my heart shattered onto the ground. My whole world was crumbling around me.

"You said you loved me. What happened that made you take back whatever you said?"

He shifted his head and looked at me with the corner of his left eye and said, "I never said I loved you."

Digging my fingernails deep into my fist, I pounded the marble floor. The tears unleashed itself and started to fall onto the ground. I couldn't breathe. My whole body jerked each time I tried to breathe. I could hear myself crying out loud, yet I couldn't control it. He's hurting me and I couldn't understand why. How can someone I gave my heart, my body, my soul to be so cruel?

"Cry all you want. But don't think that you can use tears as a weapon against my conscience. If you haven't already noticed, I don't have any."

My eyes were blurry from the tears. I looked up to see his back heading towards the door. I wanted to stop him but my legs wouldn't respond. I lifted up my right arm and tried to grab a hold of him, his jeans, his shirt, anything I could to stop him from walking out of my life. I opened my mouth and his name came out with a shriek.

"Ethan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The sound of the door closing echoed in the still room.

(Written by: Ethan Lim. please don't plagiarize my narrative! thanx.)

Digital Fortress

back in the day when i had idealistic dreams and hopes, i always thought that i would be living happily with my boyfriend, spending every sunday in bed watching mindless television programs or him catching up on his work (may it be assignments or actual work) while i'm on my PS2 or reading/writing.

these dreams tend to drift away with each passing day that marks my birth into this world. my birthday is coming up, which makes it even harder for me now since i officially feel OLD (don't be an ageist and just try to agree with me). my 23rd year...it's a scary number. and like every other birthdays that have come to pass, tis the time when i start evaluating what i have done with my life; where i am, what i'm doing, etc.

i would like to think that i have touched a lot of people's lives, whether it be making someone smile, changing their perspective on certain subjects or even helping them through breakups. but...unfortunately at this moment i feel like i've been helping people out so much that i have been ignoring my needs. i always ask friends if they're content in life, but i've never really asked myself the same question.

i'm 23. i'm gay. and i'm lonely. yes the loneliness is palpable. it's made easier with friends but at the end of the day, i really would like to come home to someone. but here i am, stuck in this digital world where u scan through profiles and look at all these pictures of guys when u can never really get to know them. apart from blogging here i really do not see a point in having a profile. in fact it just makes me feel worse.

so writing here is my only getaway, where i go through an emotional rollercoaster and just vent my feelings out. i also do take pride in my writing, i'm currently working on a horror narrative which i do hope to post sometime soon.

anyways it's the time of the year where my emotions start running wild and my mind tends to over think certain issues and start evaluating my life.

i hate my birthday.

J'Adore Alexia

well it's time to post up my narrative for my Fictional
Writing class. a few notes before u continue to read my major project, the
dialogue bit is in french and as a "writer" i assume that people
reading it knows french, and btw it's quite badly translated (i'm still in the
process of learning!) so do not nitpick at this very grey area.



secondly the title actually means the 7 Deadly Sins in french, see if u can
actually spot the sins within my narrative.



thirdly, there are two parts to my narrative, i did not want the reader to
relate to the protagonist so i kept it cold and simple. everything is very
minimal, in contrast to the second part which is dark and dismal. i wanted to
portray the workings of a model, as in what we see on the exterior (photographs,
posters, etc) to what goes on in the inside. also names of brands, wines,
papers, etc do actually exist in this world. i did quite a bit of research and
poured out my heart and soul into this piece.



so i hope u guys who like reading enjoy it. any comments please feel free to
drop me a msg.

Les Sept Péchés Capitaux

Alexia opened the door with her keys and stepped into her apartment. She threw her keys into a glass bowl next to an array of neatly fanned out French Vogues, one of which had her posing on the front cover. Her skinny frame was dressed in agnès b. from top to toe, her long fiery red hair was tied back into a bun and she had pink Swarovski crystal studs glued to her smooth and fair face to contrast with her sapphire eyes. Next to her were the words "Alexia Cohen: la nouveau voix de la modèle".

She tip toed her way to her bedroom and remembered her former lover asking her, "Were you a ballerina? Or did you spend your lifetime walking on eggshells?".

She turned on the lights to find a picture lying on her 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. The picture was of a chubby and a thin girl, frozen in time laughing silently and their arms were around each other. She picked up the photo and stared at it, mesmerized by the uncanny similarity they had with each other. Her slender fingers slowly traced out the girl's face in the vintage photograph.

Celes…

She could still remember speaking to Celes like it was yesterday. Braiding each other's hair and talking about which guy in high school was cute, the fight they had over who Paul Vargen should take to the prom, the tears of happiness when Celes came out of the closet and introduced her girlfriend to Alexia. The last time they spoke to each other was when Celes got kicked out of rehab for doing crystal meth during one of her meetings.

Alexia walked over to her mahogany dressing table and set the photo down. She ignored the smudged Le Monde that had been there for a couple of days.

Model Hits Rock Bottom: Former top model, Celes Cohen, was diagnosed with having a mental breakdown after she was found naked on the streets of Charles-de-Gaulle Etoile. The photographer said she ran out on her last shot and witnesses saw her shrieking down the road of the café. Former co-worker and make-up artiste Jean Mallea revealed Cohen to have serious mental problems and had been consuming drugs during her previous shoots…

She moved to the kitchen with grace and agility, her stomach being abused from her starving it all day and demanding that she feed it immediately. A blast of cold air hit her as she opened the chrome refrigerator. Nothing. Her fridge was empty apart from a jar of pickles and a bottle of milk, both past its expiration date. Sighing to herself, Alexia picked up her phone and proceeded to dial La Favela Chic, the French version of HardRock Café. She straddled it with her neck and picked out a glass from the cabinet. Listening to the phone ring, Alexia watched the clear liquid flow straight into the glass as she turned on the tap. She took a gulp from it and left it at the basin.

"Alo, La Favela Chic, est-ce que je peux prendre votre ordre, sil vous plais?"

"Bonjour, c'est 18B Champ de Mars."

"Mademoiselle Cohen? Voulez-vous le même passer une?"

"Oui."

"La facture devoir…"

Alexia did not bother listening to the amount she needed to pay. She hung up and grabbed her handbag she threw on the white leather couch. She fished out 80,000 Francs and slipped it into one the many white envelopes she had lying on the round frosted glass coffee table. She slid the envelope gently underneath the door of her apartment; afraid that the delivery man will find out that the food is just for her. Trying to make it seem like she had a party going on, Alexia turned her Bang & Olufsen on and the apartment was filled with Camino Del Sol's haunting voice.

It was time to relax while her food was being delivered to her doorstep. She went through her mail that was sitting on her alabaster table next to her door and found the Hello! magazine delivered to her monthly from Leonard. Attached to the magazine was a note that said:

Hey sexy.

Saw your cover on Elle. Keep up the good work.

Miss that supple pink nipples of yours.

When will you come for me again?

Leo

Alexia thought about the men she had met up with and casually ended the night with their bodies entwined from heat and she giggled to herself. She tore the Post-It from the magazine and crumpled it up and tossed it aside. What’s the point in having a maid when the apartment is always clean? She ripped the plastic covering the magazine and flicked it nonchalantly. She sat down on her couch and started flipping through the magazine. There were pictures of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, Britney shaving her head and other celebrities in their get-ups for various award ceremonies. Her eyes were drawn to an article on a beautiful red-head with eyes of blue.

After former top model Celes Cohen was checked into Esquirol hospital, a mental institution in France, her twin sister Alexia took over the reign of her modeling career and stole the world by storm…

Alexia ignored the knocking on her door and her eyes continued darting across page 16 of the magazine.

Alexia weighed in at about 130lbs but soon after her sister left the modeling world, she dropped a shocking 35lbs within 2 months. Now weighing 95lbs, Alexia is even thinner than her sister and is speculated for having an…

Alexia threw the magazine across the room.

Fuck you.

She could feel her eyes starting moisten. Damn mother fuckers and their fucking lies. Alexia picked herself up and took a deep breath, straightening and fluffing her Carven couture babydoll dress. The knocking had stopped and she was ready to pick up her dinner sitting outside the front door. She unlocked the latch to the door and slowly opened it to take a peek outside. The delivery man along with the white envelope was gone. In its place were two brown paper bags. She quickly snatched the bags and closed the door silently.

Upon opening the first paper bag after setting it down on her glass dining table, she brought out two cheese steak burgers wrapped in aluminum foil, a Styrofoam box of onion blossoms and a bottle of Côtes du Jura to go with her 2 cream based pastas in the other brown bag. Grabbing a fork from her utensils drawer she sat down and started to inhale the cabonara pasta pancetta, occasionally digging her cream stained fork into the onion blossoms and stuffing it down her throat.

Alexia was halfway through her 2nd serving of spaghetti bolognese when she felt her stomach groan and expand. She took a large sip from her glass of wine and continued to eat, occasionally stopping to take a deep breath. Her stomach could not stand it anymore. She set her fork down and looked at the two cheese steak burgers, unwrapped and sitting there on top of the aluminum foil. She closed her eyes and thought of Celes, her bony structure, the sunken-in cheekbone, her perfect abs…

Alexia opened her eyes to find Belial standing in front of her. His demonic eyes fixated on hers. In his scaly inhuman hands was a mirror in which he extended his arms for her to take a look. The reflection showed a grotesquely huge woman, sitting in the same position she was sitting in, her face drooped like a bulldog, the neck bunched up in fats and her arms rolled in cellulite.

NO! That's not her! She watched in horror as the mirror reflection of herself pointed at her and laughed. Yet nothing could be heard apart from the music playing at the background. Each time she laughed, her flabby double chin would shake and flap around.

Like a droplet falling into still water, ripples took the image of the fat woman away and replaced her with Celes' zed card. Yes, Celes was perfect. Her eyes pierced through the glossy card and into Alexia's soul, her features sharp and fairy-like.

Belial set the oval mirror on the table and picked up one the cheese steak burgers. He held it out to Alexia, the burger dripping with jack cheese on his rough palms. He smiled at her, like a snake his tongue darted in and out of his sharpened blood stained teeth. He stretched out his arms even further, the tip of the burger touching her cabonara and bolognese covered lips. She slowly parted them and took a huge bite into the burger. She could taste the juicy grilled beef wrapped in the saltiness of cheese and sautéed mushrooms melting into her mouth. She grinded the remnants of her first bite and swallowed it down. More. She snatched the burger from Belial's palms and started to feed on it, each bite tasting even better than the last. Her eyes bulged out and she made her way through the last morsel, her hands were covered in oil and fluids from the beef patty.

Her stomach was reaching its limits, but she was still hungry. She greedily grabbed the second cheese steak burger and masticated on it. Upon devouring a quarter of the burger, she could feel it rise from her abdomen. She looked up and watched Belial point to the bathroom door with his long brown fingernails. It was coming, and it was coming fast. She threw the vestiges on the table and darted into the bathroom.

Alexia hunched over the toilet seat and felt it at the back of her throat. She unhinged her jaws and everything came spurting out; surge after surge of food that she consumed. As she grabbed on to the toilet seat, the force of it threw her head back slightly and it snapped back into place after each gush. Welts of tears formed at the corner of her eyes and rolled off her face like hot coals. It was the last stream of herself and she could now feel the acidic taste burning through her throat. Her limbs were limp from the whole ordeal and she struggled to peel her body from the bathroom floor.

With her left hand, Alexia reached out and turned the silver handle anti-clockwise. She watched the dark orange fluid with bits and pieces mix in with the water, making its way down the hole. The flushing sounds echoed through the hollow toilet bowl and into the tiny bathroom.

Alexia stepped in front of the sink and looked at herself in the cabinet mirror latched onto the wall. Her gorgeous red hair now had clumps of remnants in it, the eyeliner blended with her tears and was melting down on her face. She turned on the tap and the water gushed through the faucet. She bent down and washed the chunks away from her mouth and her hair. The water merged with her liquefied eyeliner and turned black as she softly scrubbed her eyes. She straightened her back and looked into the reflection again, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed into Belial's beady eyes.

"I'm perfect."

Paper Cuts

i think i flunked my cultural and communications policy paper. i am quite fucked.

sitting in the exam theatre, i was overly confident that my 3 days of different study groups would enable me to pass my subject with at least a credit, if not a distinction. once my pen touched the paper, it turned gold, i couldnt stop writing. it was only after the exam, when i went through my notes again did i realize that i missed out entire chunks of Public Interest (i shouldnt have tackled that question in the first place. what a dumbass) as well as screwed up some stuff in my Convergence & The Digital Age and Public Service Broadcasting question.

i went into the exam hall a winner. i came out a loser. scribbling whatever i know and i have learnt throughout the semester, i'm not even sure whether my lecturer Soniya, would be able to comprehend whatever i wrote down. all i remember was writing furiously. as soon as i picked up my functioning blue pen, i could hear the voice inside my head say,

"Welcome To Hell."