let lemons be angry

I don't want the best. I want chipped nail polish, garish women in tights, that awkward and brash sincerity, because that's sincerity after all. I want uncomfortable moments, I want tension between thoughts and actions, and I want muffled screams of desperation on emotional mornings. I want to work so hard that my eyes see spaghetti as purple. I want to have dips and lows, because that makes the highs so much higher. I want busrides and old angular cars, dinner on the roadside and conversations that don't make perfect sense. Falling and scraping my knees, being tongue-tied, having all my papers in a pile on the floor under my bed. It's all good.

...

Last night's steamboat birthday dinner at bugis was a bit of a fun culture shock. I've lived too long in a world of Crystal Jade, Thai Express and Sushi-tei--big-mall asian fare. It was the ultimate illegal experience: the guys cut a long queue unknowingly to get a table, bought drinks (and refills!) from 7-11 and drank them out of soup bowls so they wouldn't get caught, and then stuffed uneaten prawns and mussels into crevices so we wouldn't have to pay for wasted food. Eating has never been the main source of entertainment for me during a meal before. My next project shall be to explore local cuisine properly, this was unplanned fun.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESSICA!