to my ah gong:

i'm scared he'll die.

i'm not particularly close to him but i love his presence. the way he confusedly waves at me when i wave at him even though i'm standing 3 feet away. i don't know what he says to me because he speaks hokkien but it's usually, "come eat the orange/apple/starfruit/pineapple, it's sweet." i regret those times i tell him i don't want to because i'm full. i should've eaten them all.

he loves my brother not only because he's the pride and joy of the family, but also because when he asks my brother for a diagnosis, my brother says it's okay to drink cognac everyday within reasonable limits.

according to my brother, after his diagnosis, even though he's only a first-year med student, he could tell that ah gong was in serious condition. his ankles were already swollen with water. that was less than 2 months ago. now his heart is swollen with water.

ah gong, i'm sorry for all the times i roll my eyes whenever you call me "PUI BOOOOOOON". i'm sorry for all the times i give you mild heart attacks by poking my head over your window and hollering, "AH GONG! WA DAU KIAH LIAU!"

please don't leave us. i want to say "ah gong jiak peng!" at dinnertime. i want to hear you call me "PUI BOOOOOOOON" again and call my brother "AH-KAAAAANG".

and tell us to eat your fruit.

why don't you pick my nose and eat the shit you find in it?

the monkeys have returned home.

i ate something bad for lunch.

i'm just, blah.

nothing goes on with my life. no mind-blowing, earth-shattering news.

it's a good thing.

but as bland as the porridge you buy from the chicken rice stall.

but i prefer porridge to stingray curry.

by far. by far.

new project: Peace of Tilsit

fell off a stool! i could actually fall off a stool, in the middle of recording!

next time i should just sit on the floor.

i can't fall off the floor.

can i?

i swear to god.

one day i am going to marry a farmer with big paddy fields.

it wouldn't hurt if he was rich and good-looking.

but he MUST have paddy fields.

and 30 buffalos.

my new moisturizer smells so good i have to blog about it.

drama's over and i can finally purge myself of iras.

iras is dead. whoo-hoo!

if you see me walking along the corridors, do not stop to speak to me.

i bite.

especially if you are a certain fat, ugly and untalented female sloth with a high-pitched voice and panty-lines showing through an overly-tight skirt.

the rest of you, ignore me. i am a shadow. i am not your stepping stone to school politics.

if i ever was in school politics, i am the vote-shirker.