"ok i am very very excited, there were 3 and then there were 5."

I wanted to rip that off first but the other gluegirl beat me to it. Nevertheless, here's to Five.

(I take back what I said about not wanting anything from tokyo. Can I have something crazy and ugly please, the kind of thing that I'm most satisfied with and that you laugh at with your one-syllable "hurh" that trails off in an open-mouthed smile.)

I'm a bit of an emotional dunce, an ice-veined machine. Or maybe more like a stunned rabbit. Things take a while to get to me. So this comes late, but thank you too (and goodbye).

There was some hooha about my recently acquired bangs. Girls prefer it, boys who know me wish them away. Boys who don't know me like it, such as random malay men on buses. It seems that the cut has changed my image completely. But as wenchuan, half-male, half-critter said, "Who said they don't like it? No difference! So superficial!"

The same way that some days I want to walk on eggs with heels and a dress, and some days I play shy with a cap and shorts. But it's all dressup, the fundamental game I've played since I was 3. Whatever the hairstyle, whatever the shoes, I only want to shoot rubberbands and eat popcorn. I'm just a big kid inside. Because of that, I may have disappointed many a soul who thought that the surface was it.

So disappointed souls, I do not want to go to zouk tonight, and no, I do not want to discuss and compare sermons. No, I will not kill you for speaking to me, but neither will I entertain you if you call me cute. I am not what you see me to be. I look different everyday.

Remember. Rubberbands and popcorn.

Here's to you
Let the growing of the trees remind you
That everything is now behind you

Every email, sms and call has been frustrating today. I wish I had a locker that I could open to find a surprise in. Or something hard to hit him with. To wake him up, or to put him into a coma.

Will you elope with me?

Whales and apples and sand forever.

Two rainclouds waiting for a little more sun, a little more wind, so we can rain and be light again. I wish you all the happiness that being light brings. We're not meant to be glued together forever. :)

The gluegirls were at q today, taking turns to scold each other for different things. We are all headstrong and controlling that way. Maybe we edit too much of ourselves with others, so that we need to come together to blurt it all out in live demos and exhortations to be honest, be honest. For everybody's sake be honest.

I'm poor but I had a client waiting for me. Now I've lost her because she too is poor and can't afford my services. I could lower my charges so that we both will not starve in the cold hours of the night. But I think I'm too busy to take it on for a small sum. I hope I do not lose the other one.

--

On Friday I was Azi's fake witness for her mock trial/sparring trial. The venue was the prestigious Drew and Napier firm at Ocean Towers. The case given was such: I was 55-year-old Mrs White living in Canberra, accusing 13-year-old Jack Black of maliciously putting a firecracker in my mailbox. My proof was that I opened the door and saw him laughing at me. My lawyer, the valiant Azi, chose to beef up her case by stressing that I suspected these 13-year-olds were out to drive us old people out of our nice estates and move into them. The residents in their 70s often ran to me for help when they were harassed. Furthermore, I had a serious heart condition and these young people's riotous acts were therefore possibly fatal to me.

The defense witness was Billy Blue, Jack Black's friend. Throughout his testimony he kept referring to me as an "old woman." If 55 is old, my mother would cry. I tried to stop thinking of him as Potato Ball.

The strangest thing in this very strange story is that everybody was dead serious. Billy Blue kept taking down notes and showing them to his lawyer. The judge nodded and listened to my story. The lawyers spoke in professional voices and tried to trap the witnesses with sly questions.

And I was the only silly one trying not to laugh inappropriately during the opening speech, and drawing circles and girls on my Drew and Napier notepaper.

Do you, do you think
the glue girls are finally getting unglued?

The spring cleaning madness hasn't stopped. Something struck on monday, and when I got out of bed I took my comforter with me and washed it. Since then I have washed and dried half the clothes in my wardrobe, cleaned all my cupboards inside and out, cleared out entire drawers, wiped every crevice under and between so that my room is absolutely dustless, washed and dried all my cloth bags, polished every glass surface, singlehandedly removed the glass top of my table to be dumped, sorted my junk into sellable goods and throwaway goods, rearranged all the posters and knick knacks, and done a fair bit of hammering too.

I love putting my nose to any random thing in my room and inhaling freshness.

If you're unimpressed it's because you think that this is what girls do. Maybe girls do it, but it's never happened to me before. This has no symbolic parallel to the cleaning up of my life. But what a difference it makes, being here and watching across the universe and getting out for family chendol after dinner, and only being concerned about poster arrangements on my walls.

Maybe I'll even turn into a clean freak. If so, ha, i'll magiclean you.