a dash of me… make that 50 dash(es) or a huge dollop

When it comes to people’s reaction towards me, they are no shades of grey. Only black or white. Hate or love.

I am scared of the dark. body of water. heights. I went caving. Not once. Twice.
I love water abseiling!

Dead + me.
We have a weird affinity. Souls cling to me. So the clairvoyant + clergy man says.
I get squeamish at the talk of corpses.
I voluntarily enrolled into I.M. Sechenov Moscow Medical Academy.

It was the 1.5 metre snow that got to me.
And the dorm’s crappy decor.
I never made it to my first cadaver.

I am a law school drop out too!
It was one of the.light.bulb.moments. Read here.

I now work in a Bank with a phallic looking logo.
I can keep a straight face at the mention of ‘penis’. I have lived with a mispronounced name that occasionally sounds like it for 30 years and a bit.

I shoot 3 things: my mouth . camera . firearms
the first is the most lethal of all.

I despise the name Grace. Never met a Grace I like. Never met a Grace with Grace.

I hate chocolaty {now}.
Never go to Brugge.

Feggetit. I am a product of a dyslexic upbringing.

I can’t stop myself from smiling when I am uncomfortable or in an overly serious situation.
Some heated arguments have ensued with accusations such as “is this all a BIG joke to you?”

My dog will never understand the concept of irony.
It’s a good thing I suppose.

I am an excellent parallel parker.
I am an excellent driver.
{though I have spun 360 on a highway, plunge into a ravine … you never know when you need to moonlight as a stunt driver}

The only thing consistent with me is my confused state.

I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t understand women.
I am certainly straight.

Confession: I never had a crush on New Kids on The Block growing up.
I said so to get free posters from friends to sell them in Galaxy and in school.

Come to think of it, I have never idolised anyone.
I am tone deaf.
Its a wonder I got a Pianoforte Grade 8 Certificate.

I have an irrational need to drink coffee at 10pm.
I lie awake wondering at 1am why I can’t fall asleep.

Damn the world for having no decent jobs at night.
I am not a morning person.

I am a quitter.
But I never give up.
You need to know me to know me.

I am a disgraceful speller.
Thank God I was born passed the qwerty typewriter era.

Craters on the moon. Wriggly stuff. Clowns.
They creep me out.

Why the friggin‘ place did I commit to “50 dashes”?!?

I suffer no fools.
It ain’t no surprise why I am in a constant state of ‘pain’.

“Wake me up before you go-go” is still stuck in my head.
It’s awful. It emerges from time to time. Usually at the most inappropriate moment.

Don’t even try to guess my age with all the hints.
Look, I am not sensitive about my age. Let me repeat, I am NOT sensitive about my age.

I am just a natural Drama Queen.

Contrary to believe, I do not outsource everything.
I did the dishes last Saturday.

The only reason I jump out of bed in the mornings is to beat the contra flow.
I would be voluntarily unemployed the day they shut the contra flow.

I am inherently selfish when it comes to ways to beat a system.
Any system.

I can eat. Apply makeup. Manicure. Read. SMS. while driving.

Being 2nd child sucks.
It doesn’t matter if you are the last of the 2.

I have 70% less photographs growing up than my sister.
Crawl. Suck. Cry. Sit. Walk. I suppose is not amusing the second time round.

I wish I am still 18. I can’t believe I am not 18 any more.
Then I talk to an eighteen-year-old.
I can’t believe I was ever 18.

The most faithful guy in my life is furry, smelly, rotund and has consistently “shrunk” since I was 8 y.o.

Colin Firth.
The accent ‘got’ me.

I can’t remember a good number of people on my facebook.
Is it rude not to add ‘friends’ when being added?

I do not carry my camera everywhere.

I can be a little self involved {sometimes}.
of course I am self involved! I have a blog about me. DuuuhhHHH.

You are still here?
I mean.. jeeEEZZZZ

I sometimes dread my name.
Then I think: at least I have a name.

If I had a child, s/he would be nameless. I won’t be able to come up with a name and stick to it in 30-days.
My dog is named after my car. The car was named by the manufacturer. Thank God for that.

I have a love-hate relationship with a purple dinosaur.
In time of {rock bottom} insecurity I find comfort in the purple talking dinosaur that goes like this: “Hello friend. Give me a BIG hug please. {long pause} And remember, I love you.”

I felt good about the purchase of my first adult furniture.
My revelation of why I hated adulthood hit me a week later when the poster bed was slashed by 70% off.
It is the ‘adult’ part that I hate now. Not the furniture.

I love my LOMO (and soon HOLGA) more than the Nikon or Leica.

Fuchsia perks me up.

We were the only home in the entire neighbourhood without a gate or a fence. We never got robbed once.
It must be the target sheets strewn at the back of my Land Rover.
Or the photo of mom yielding a M16.

Seriously, you are starting to freak me out … have a life!

Admittedly I have none.
You can’t be worse than me. I was ditched for a Canon Mark IID.

This is an automated / scheduled entry.
I am having a blast in the ethno-photography workshop.
Or at least the cynic in me would like to believe. For once.


5 thoughts on “a dash of me… make that 50 dash(es) or a huge dollop

  1. #01 – shove the {tweet} up the {tweet} of the haters! haters are bullies. anyone who judges others are cowards.I love you for being you and for embracing and living live! oh, of course for you loving me the way I am too lah.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s