Anyway I'm currently working on my biggest and probably my last editorial as the chief editor. Tiring work. I just completed a survey and some interviews. I hope I get my message across when I'm done. People will ask me why do I care so much but, fuckit, thats the mentality I hate anyway.

Aside from the above project, I'm also working on a essay for another competition. Prizes look really attractive, so I'm gonna put plenty of effort into this one. In any case, it should be fun. I'm experimenting with satirical essays that actually make sense. Er, right.

Damn. This blog is dying. Actually its not so much about the blog as it is about me... Bleah forget it. I'm going crazy. I'm getting so concerned and uncaring at the same time. The reason why I think this blog is dying is because... well I have so much to say yet I lock it in my head. Makes me wonder why I have a blog anyway. I have a strange aversion to people. Maybe thats why I don't blog about stuff in my head. Haha yeah, love you all.

TODAY'S FOOD FOR THOUGHT. THINK YOU IDIOTS! CONGRATS! PASS THE MESSAGE AND LETS MAKE THIS WORLD A SAFER PLACE FOR THE NEXT GENERATION OF IDIOTS *GRINZ*

Forgive me if my English is atrocious... let me begin!:

first of all, to my lovely friends, here's the link you've all been talking about: click me!

Oh dear YingPing, why must you be such a poseur!!! I've known you for three and a quarter years and it seems that you've hardly changed, since you change all the time. Why girl, why?!

I would say this to you straight to your face, but I just can't. You're such a poor little sensitive thing; if you cry I'll start crying too. I'm scared you'd misunderstand me and take all of it as a compliment! The worst thing is... I'm scared I'd start laughing or something...

No really, I'm very concerned with your condition (hey, I could be a psychiatrist you know. Dirt cheap, considering your living standards.). I'd never forgive myself if you end up the source of a widespread epidemic of fickleness. Oh wait, dammit, there's already an epidemic about... shucks...

You love Gothic make-up, but you don't use make-up because you say your skin's too sensitive. You've copied every single thing everyone else does. Except me (phew). Why!!!

Then you were lesbian. But after that you turned bi. And now you're hetero again? Wait. I'm confused. Damn.

But honestly, maybe you're just deep. Maybe my tiny little mind cannot comprehend the vast emptiness(like outer space!) which dwells within that head. I mean, you seem really blur in school, yet I've seen poetry from your file and long love songs written by you in your blog. Honestly! I can't believe I underestimated you...

Once upon a time, I heard that some girl got the brunt of cheryl's bitching, for copying her I think. Hmmm not sure. I think only hor. Hehx.

*skips around*

*hops around*

so let me get it right. this is yingping: japanese, cute, goth, blur but deep (wow), deep but blur (wow again), sensitive skinned, thick skinned (oops), poet, songwriter, lesbian, bi, and hetero, rich, suicidal, needs counselling, attention seeker(oops), bimbotic (hey, got this from her blog! not my fault!), fat (hey again!)... (I am so gonna rule character analysis for Lit.)

Sigh, nothing much. Life is sooo boring. I love people like YingPing. They spend their whole life being other people. You really get to know a whole lot about them that way.

My life is rated R.
What is your life rated?

crappy ms yap called my house over the weekend and ruined my holiday mood. was screaming at me like the chihuahua-faced bitch she is. bah.

in any case, all's okay. i fixed up heik's blog last week (explains the absence of posts in my own). Oh yeah pitas was down for 2 days (another reason for the absence of new posts).

what else. Well, its early on monday morning and i'm not looking forward to school. haha, who is. just hope i can ride out whatever difficulties (which i know i will face) today. bah, thats all, i'll update later when I have the time.

The reason I like it is because it does paint a realistic portrait of 20th century life in a light which reveals all the humorous ironies of life, and the weird thing is, they're things we see everyday and take for granted. Bahh here's an excerpt:

(taken from 'Good as Gold'. We see Bruce Gold, the main character here, describing his dearly hated friend Lieberman.)

'Lieberman was more ambitious from the start. By the time he was eight, he had already given to chesty boasting.

"When I grow up," he announced to Gold in the third or fourth grade, "I'm gonna be fat. I'll be the fattest guy in the whole world."

That was one of the earliest of Lieberman's goals, to be fat. In every class, he seized command of all positions open, from blackboard and wastebasket monitor to class messenger, and, ultimately the capstone of this phase in his career, chief of safety patrol. Lieberman, rolling with a cockier swagger whenever he wore his metal badge, set records for reporting students for jaywalking until Fishy Siegel threatened to break his head if he didn't stop. Spotty Weinrock said he would do the same. Lieberman cried. That afternoon he resigned from the safety patrol.

Liberman ate and talked unceasingly. By the time he was nine, he never hesitated to dispute socialism, fascism, and the labor movement with old European Jews on the Coney Island boardwalk. His characteristic argument was that they did not know what they were talking about.

It probably was not true, as Pomoroy had remarked, that given the option, Lieberman would have elected to be born prematurely just to get a headstart. But it was probably not entirely false. Lieberman still could not keep his hands off food, his own or others', even though he no longer wanted to be fat. He had never held any elective office in school because he could not find anyone to nominate him, second him, or vote for him.

"I don't care," Lieberman proclaimed to Gold in the fifth or sixth grade, holding back tears. "When I grow up, I'll be a fat cabinet officer. I'll be the first Jewish Secretary of State. I bet I'll even get to meet the President."

Then he moved away from Coney Island to the bordering, more elegant neighborhood of Brighton Beach. By the time Gold had entered Abraham Lincoln High School, Lieberman was already there as a sophomore, having vaulted one school year somehow, and was making a name for himself as an outstanding student and a putz. He was on the staff of the literary magazine and the school newspaper. By his junior year, Lieberman took uncontested control of both. He was active in political matters and co-captain of the debating team, which always lost.

Gold avoided him. Shunning the literary magazine in high school because of Lieberman, Gold mailed ten of his short poems to the Saturday Review of Literature. Six came back with rejection slips and four were accepted, at a price of ten dollars each. Lieberman turned blue. He swore he would never forgive Gold for acting alone instead of sharing his initiative. To teach Gold his place, Lieberman mailed twenty-five of his poems to the Saturday Review of Literature. Thirty-nine came back.

"What do I care? Lieberman sneered. "When I grow up I'm gonna be rich. I'll be more famous than anyone. I'm gonna marry a rich and famous heiress. I'll never lose my hair. I'll wear lots of rings. I'll go into politics and win. I'll be mayor, a senator, and govenor of all New York. I'll be a big millionaire. When I grow up," he vowed, "I'm gonna fuck a girl."