let lemons be angry

I dont think i want to go to school tomorrow, all because my sculpture looks nowhere near completion or beauty. It's supposed to be a lampshade but it looks like one of those plastic fans given out in national day parade goodie bags. The original model looked much better, but I left it on the bus last week, so I'm trying not to think of it anymore. I should have probably gone to claim it from the lost and found, but I just went to report a lost dress last week, and I have too much pride to go back. Just tonight I left my handphone at the badminton court and the person who found it called back and asked to speak to "juliee", how amusing and embarrassing all at once.

I used to feel that I was bridget jones in the klutz/ultimate-embarrassing-moments sense. Like the time paki and i went to nic's party and asked lots of people for directions and ran away from the boys we imagined were going to the same house, ended up being too early and decided to hide outside in the yard peeping in like thieves. And my appalling impromptu public speeches, which i will never ever live down although I know i'm the only one who remembers them. The worst was in sec 2 when I was pulled up to take part in a Queen of Sheba game, and they turned out to be looking for "the biggest ego". Painful. Discard, delete, now. And the horrendous Band Concert at the Esplanade, a night of unglam moments starring me. And of course my typically bad female driving skills. I'm a flake. I used to deny it all the time, but I can't escape it. Which is why I'm still amazed when i pull things off like writing intelligent, logical essays, redecorating huge rooms, driving to east coast for dinner and back, cooking for thirty people, and managing to give a first impression of being dao: "the arrogant Feeling". Film students always cheekily use "feeling" in the hongkong director way, there's no better word really.

Should i persevere and continue cutting up plastic and glueing them together inch by inch? I already have two knife cuts and my healthy dose of glue vapour. If i continue, it's likely I'll have four cuts and hallucinations by 2 am, and my national day fan will still look like utter crap. I should just go to sleep and try to record my dream for next week's project.

But first, I had a lot of fun making that short film in two hours today, and I think i would be able to make more interesting things than Man Ray. I know he's celebrated, but at this point, I dont think i would pay to own a silent movie all about black and white moving patterns. Neither do i care for the disturbing surrealism of Salvador Dali. Images like cutting an eye or toying with a severed hand are not in my subconscious. Beating up kidnappers and eating food that isn't of this world, that's what i dream about.