Imma sunglasses whore. I just got my 9th pair today. Funkay shades just kills me. It doesn't help that those huge retro shades are in the rage now. I've got my eyes set on a pinkish purple Dior pair. -Insert Fuzzy's glazed, wide-eyed expression- Speaking of Dior, guess who's FINALLY getting a pink Dior saddle bag? Who cares if it's last season's range, it's still a bleeding Dior. =)

Such superficiality. Heh.

For the first time since I can remember (okay, since school started) I feel FREE. There arent any deadlines pending and AND we're doing basic basic accounting in media management. Who's Principles of Accounts Queen?! So. For the first time in 5 weeks, I understand EVERYTHING that is taught. Working capital, current assets, current liabilities, intangible assets, depreciations, net profits. Hah. Bring it on, baybee!

I got a B for Newswriting leads test, which was a HUGE surprise, since I can't write news articles to save my life. I try to wanna make everything sensational. Sad me.

OH. Jesse got a new tattoo yesterday! And this time, no funken copy cat can take her design away. And it's funded entirely by yours truly and Mainee. I swear the girl either (a) finds pain orgasmic, or (b) doesn't feel pain or (c) is plain weird. Although I know it's option C. Jesse said belly piercing was completely painless, when I found it relatively painful. And she was literally bleeding yesterday after we got out of the tattoo place. Literally dripping with blood. Goondu girl, the things that you get yourself into. Tsk tsk.

Speaking of piercings, my belly piercing's healed. YAY. Got 2 studs today, which was ridiculously expensive, but what the heck.(And if you're reading this, Jesse, I got one for you, too!) My monthly shopping spree's one HUGE reason why my muddles should give me allowance as a day-today basis. Heh.

Oh. And Mirza's horror tongue-piercing escapade convinced me to forget about piercing mine. Damn. Now I can't pierce my tongue, I wont wanna have any facial piercings. And can't dye my hair with royal purple streaks coz I'd have to bleach it first and no way am I bleaching my puuuurfect hair. Dammit. Speaking of hair, I just realised I chopped my locks off immediately after my marketing exam last sem and it's already almost reaching my waist. Bloody hell.

For some reason, I think my friends' parents think it's cool to have kids on the latter half of the year. I have birthdays lined up every single week from yesterday all the way till late October. So, I decided to give people hand made stuffus. They might just do a Picasso after my death, really. (And Mainee, even if it isn't your birthday, Im in tha process of doing up stg for you)

Speakin of which, here's a holla to NOOOOODLE SCHMOOODLES who turned a spankin 18 yesterday! I hope your partay went well, and you're 18, so look out for the M18 mooovies, the booze, the sex and the brrrright lights, baybee! Sorry I couldn't come yesterday, not exactly in good terms with the parentals, aye. I'll give u your pressie tooooosday! =)

Have I mentioned I hate the new blogger? I can't use my kickass html skills no more with all these buttons thingamajigga. Bloody irritating, if you ask me.

Dinesh just IM-ed me and said he got an ipod mini in pink! Lucky ass. And he said it isn't exactly pink, it's more PURPLE. YAY. Not that I have any money to splurge on an ipod mini, as of this point of time of course. But still, now that I know that it's more purple than pink, it's FIRST on my xmas list, y'all!

Somehow I feel that my public speaking abilities are being exploited. I'm being thrown into things that I don't wanna do. Being made to speak to people I don't wanna speak to. Having to speak without even wanting to. Sigh. I really love to speak in front of people. I really love to be able to make a group of people laugh. I love to be able to move the masses. I feel comfortable in front of people. I probably feel most comfortable in my skin in front of a whole load of people. Even better if I'm talking about something I'm passionate about (which, btw, I havent have had the chance to yet. So if anybody wants a feminist debate, holla!). But there are just some occasions, some time, I wanna sit back from the bright lights. Oh well. It's not like I can do anything about it.

I have a declaration. Following the author of Cunt: A Declaration of Independance, Inga Muscio's footsteps, starting today, I shall only read lietrature(outside school purposes) written solely by women. Screw Dan Brown, screw Salman Rushdie! Not that I'm saying they suck, they're very good, actually, I'm just doing a lil bit more for my kind by buying their books instead.

Irigaray wrote that as women we are always plural:

two lips touching each other, secretly,

constantly. as women we are always two, and more than two,

and more than we can count.
i feel this daily.

Which woman will I be today?

the poet

the priestess

the prostitute.

slip them on and off

like panties;

when one gets dirty

just change.

i think the greatest damage the patriarchy has done to our psyches is to tell us we can only be one thing.
the virgin or the whore.

i want to honor that ability in women to be plural

to be not pin-down-able

to be the one,

the more than one,

the more than we can count.

the mother

the lover

the warrior

the goddess

the plain jane

the ruckus

the refuse

the refused

the whore

the bitch

the stubborn one

the vixen

the inetlligent

the affluent

the not-refusable.

the knower

the known

the unknowable.

the many and more.

i want to honour it in myself by seeking to cultivate my women.

the ones inside me.

the ones only i know.

the ones only i might be able to see.

i want to be able to be any woman.

everywoman.