What are the odds

Oddss

Have you ever wondered what your odds were? Is it more than ‘May the odds ever be in your favor’ from Hunger Games? Well, of course it is.

What are the odds of me liking anyone at all? Will they be tall enough, smart enough? Clean cut and the ability to give me butterflies in my stomach? Dare I ask for washboard abs and soft hair. Psh. Now I’m just hoping for too much.

For starters, what are the odds of me liking someone? People may not notice (or do they) but how much they like someone at first glance really depends on -to me- a few factors. From how they walk, to how they talk, to how they function or how smart they are. To be honest, it’s pretty easy to be smarter than me. I’m only ever good at English (or at least am decent at). Other than that, I kind of suck at everything else unlike my sisters. My family knows it, they just don’t say it.

And if ever I end up liking someone,will they even like me back? Now that’s another story altogether. Urgh. Most of the time they get intimidated by my level of study, no, not because I’m an ivy league scholar or anything, but because all the guys whom I’ve ever liked or crushed on were not as ‘smart’ (seriously, screw Singapore’s stereotyping by education level. I date whoever I want regardless of education!) as me(?) I’ve actually thought about it and came to the conclusion that I prefer boys who aren’t as ‘smart’ because they’re simpler to understand. They have less extravagant wants, and are mostly more jovial than ‘smarter’ boys. Smart boys are cool and all, but they always manage to make me feel inferior beside them. They intimidate me and I just can’t stand it. Do I like to be the one wearing the pants? No, not really. I still like guys who actually plan for what we should do for the day, be it as friends or not.

But spot the difference. An average guy would bring me kite flying (Yay!) at Marina Barrage or something while a more educated guy would want to bring me to an action movie (Hm). Maybe it isn’t the same for you. Maybe ‘smart’ (I’ve decided to refer to them as Preppy.) boys in France bring their dates to the Eiffel Tower, which is pretty damn romantic, while preppy boys from Taiwan bring their dates to classy Dim Sum restaurants (Yum). But for some reason, that’s how it always happens for me. Why? I don’t know, ask them.

All in all, I don’t mind guys who aren’t my equals (not that being my equal is some huge feat). I’m the nurturing type anyway. And don’t ask me what my type is. If I like you, I like you. And if I don’t, then I’m sorry man.

Will they love me a fraction of how much I love them? Will they love me even. This is probably the #1 reason why I’ve given up chasing. It just doesn’t make sense now that I think of it. If you chase the guy and get him, he’ll know for sure that you like him more than he does you. Call me pessimistic and cynical, but I think this opens me up to being cheated on in the end. Doesn’t it make more sense this way? At least if a guy were to ask me out or for my number, I’d know he’s interested. It’s a safer ‘trade-off’ of emotions to me. I come in with nothing while he comes in with a crush or what not. Yes, when I put it this way, I may be seen as rather cowardly, but you know what they say, always protect yourself first.

On the other hand, I may not necessarily like the person who asks for my number. In fact, I’ve never given my number to anyone who has asked for it. It’s one thing to attract someone, but it’s another thing to attract the ones you actually like or want. Also, if I ever give my number out, I may run the risk of coming off as ‘easy’. How to get rid of that mindset? Play hard to get for a while but risk him getting tired and discouraged. Sigh. Cynical, cynical Cherie.

Can they even stand loving me;all of me. From the scars on my arms to the wars in my head and the vacancy in my eyes deep . People tell me not to worry, that I’ll have guys at my feet by the time I turn 21 and am officially ‘out there’. I smile but really, who am I kidding? The only people who tell me that are my family and friends, which is comforting to some point but really, who dates friends? Well, I’d like my boyfriend to be my friend first, but the theme of being more than friends would always be playing in the background. People often tell me that if they didn’t know me and saw me in town, they’d think I was snobbish and stuck up. Their solution? That I should be happier and smile more.

AUFK

Okay. Firstly, if you actually ever see me out in town, I’m probably already in a very good mood. Secondly, don’t hate on my condescending and forever-unimpressed face (yes, I am very aware of that). It’s just… it’s just…IT’S JUST MY FACE. OKAY? 

And if ever, I get lucky and find someone. Anyone at all, if everything goes smoothly, which it probably wouldn’t,

Can he accept my family at all? Let’s not even talk about my height, my dire lack of femininity and sharp tongue. Let’s just talk about my family in general. My sisters are smart, cunning and smart all over again. Sure, they may not have graduated from the most prestigious of universities and collages, but they get what they want, when they want it. And if you harness such a skill in the working world, you my friend, are already well ahead of the game. Being a total sour grape and straight up bitch, I’ll say that my elder sister isn’t all that pretty. She’s not. She’s huge (like tall) and flat as a plank. But where is she now? Married with kids. As a member of the female species, I am both insulted and demoralised.

Me as a jealous sister? I wouldn’t deny it. To make myself feel better I tell myself ‘At least her husband is a total jackass’, which he is. Even my father says so. But it doesn’t change the fact that the woman has managed to get herself hitched and has promoted herself from being just a ‘girlfriend’ to a wife and mother. Of course I’m not as spiteful as to try and break them up or something, but look at the progress she has made. And all before she hit 26!

Then there comes my second sister, being proposed to at 21 and getting married the same year. How the hell do you beat that. Maybe if I married into the Yakuza. Then again, just maybe.

So your sisters were successful human beings. That does mean you can’t be too!

Oh I’ve got tons of things to worry about within the family. From who’s talking to who, who can know what to where everybody is. I’m the family messenger, family secretary and private psychiatrist. In a nutshell, I’m the family’s 宝戈廖 (bao ge liao, or whole package). Seems like a very noble job, right?

HAHA, NO. 

I don’t even have time to be a total girl, PMS everywhere and stain every white fabric known to man. If you knew what I had to do, you’d agree with me that ain’t nobody got time for that. MHM. I’m expected to take everything in stride, convey messages accurately without interfering, go to school and remain human. Yet people wonder why I’m rarely impressed by anything. So as I attempt to download this intriguing thing people call a ‘social life’ and perhaps chance upon someone I can romantically click with, I go up against my family’s expectations.

‘What does he study?’
‘Is he smart?’
‘I don’t like how he looks.’
‘What does his family do?’ 
‘That school?’ 
*Loudly proclaims to ‘no one in particular’* 3 pointer? for GCE O Levels? Big deal. (Sister #x, you know who you are.) 
Calls guy up to tell him to stay the hell away from me. 

THEN they ask me why I’m still single. Not to mention, they have recently expressed their dismay when I dropped hints that I may like boys with not-too-spectacular qualifications or education. It went a little like this:

Me: Aunty, what would you say to me dating an ITE boy? 
Aunty: It’s still…alright…? 
Me: Who dropped out of ITE. 
Aunty: Hahahahaha…ummmmmm. [long pause] I’ll be really sad. (In other words, ‘Please consider my views, opinions and feelings’.)

And don’t give me that ‘follow your heart’ and ‘you’re the one dating him not them!’ bullshit. As much as I hate to admit, they’re right. How in the world do you survive in Singapore when you don’t have a decent education? It’s scary to think that in 10 years, I’d be expected to be married, have a stable combined income, pay my taxes, somehow afford a flat and have children. Scratch that, the thought is terrifying in itself. Call me delusional, but I reckon this is the government’s sick way of breeding a smarter and more elite generation. Quality over quantity, only the best will survive!

It’s simple, really.

Two people of sustainable income get married. The two individuals would probably be degree holders, holding some sort of paper-proclaimed level of intelligence. They have kids, whom they will raise with the mindset that they must work towards being successful, AKA graduate from a university and achieve the 5 Cs’ in life (Car, Cash, Condo, Credit Card, Country club membership). And how would they ever achieve that alone? Joint income. But with whom? Another kid with similar background and upbringing of course! (My God, I’m going to get so much hate for this.)

So what are my odds of finding that one person who is customized for me? Coupled with the odds of them not turning out to be total jerks, assholes and the occasional pedophile? I’m not asking for flowers on Valentines day, cute texts or random surprises. I’m talking about acceptance and understanding from the people around me. It sounds easy enough, but really it isn’t. My society is so…so…square.

So that’s the end of my rant. I can’t believe I started this post as a poem categorized under my ‘Creative Writing’ tab but realized I had far too much to say and it morphed into this more-than-a-thousand word essay/rant.

But thanks for bearing with me.

Love from the lonely,
Cherie

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Tumblr Spam of July!

This month has been a huge heart attack. Tiring but pretty dang fun. I’ve taken up a new lifestyle! It’s creatively named : Project Healthy. Which is cool, seeing that I barely move while I’m in the office. 

I even did my nails and started a new notebook of which I affectionately named Hopeless Romantic. All because everything written inside are cheesy conversations between a couple in my head or angsty comebacks. Witty ones too. Gah. I refuse to admit I bought the book because it looked nice and I really wanted to try out this new pen I bought. 

Anyways, Tumblr has been pretty positive this month, which is a good thing. Good to know my followers are happy and July has been good to them. 

With that said, let the spam begin. 

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Fickle

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Sometimes I wonder if there will be that one guy that will say cheesy,
Romantic things to me.

Sometimes I wonder if there will be that one guy that will take my breath away;
Set my skin on fire with just a touch.

Then I wonder if I’ll ever find him.
Look at myself,
Then realize.

Maybe I don’t want to find him at all.

Must be the haze

A very late post.

I’ve never been bothered (much) about the haze. It was a yearly thing. Every June or so, I’d get breathless for a month because the air would be too dirty and much to bare for my poor asthmatic self.
I guess I wasn’t very bothered because I always somehow live through the days. Of course, I’ve been to the A&E more than a few times. It’s fun. You see a lot of wacky injuries and people there. Personally, I think people whom you meet at the A&E tell the best stories. Hurhur.

Back to topic, let’s just say the haze this year was (hopefully) the worst ever. Masks were sold out everywhere and the streets were significantly emptier.

PSI rose to 390, one of the worst in the history of Singapore and basically, everyone panicked. There were loads of fights online over the burning in Indonesia.  Indonesia said things they could have phrased better, and singaporeans weren’t exactly very forgiving.

Technically, I shouldn’t be bothered over these things, seeing that I spend a good 1/3 of my life at home, on my laptop. But this year was different. This year, this time of the year, I’m an Office Lady.

A dignified, proud, formal wearing, meeting going, high heel wearing office lady.

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A lady who paints her nails.

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And has a very busy schedule.

Oh yeah. I’ve been busy.

But more importantly, I’ve been out a lot. I don’t like being out of the house so much. I’m like a guinea pig, you know?

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Rather be in her cage unless she needs food or something internet connection.

If that wasn’t enough, haze just had to choose this year to spring one on me. Not to mention, of all the times public transport had to fail me, it had to be when the PSI hit an all time high.

My train dropped me off at least 6 stops too early, claiming the train in front had broken down or they were facing teachnical issues. Being promised shuttle bus rides, I was met with this.

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Now, I’ve never been a fan of crowds. I don’t like clubbing, fire drills, morning assembly and hell, not even family gatherings. I like watching people, talking to them in small groups at best, and studying them. But the heck load of strangers stranded at a too-small bus stop?

God no.

I decided to walk to the next train station (it’s not that far. It’s Singapore you’re talking about) to take a bus back home. It was horrible.

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It’s not my camera. Things would be that blury with or without perfect eyesight or resolution. At least a third of the people exiting from my station had the same idea as me and were walking. It was chaotic, warm and I was pretty sure I was getting much lesser oxygen than I should have been getting.

Surprisingly, I made it with my lungs still intact. But the worst was far from over.

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I am so thankful I don’t get anxiety from crowded places because this would have scared me shitless. As for the picture above, I thought the girl in the cream top/cardigan had nice legs. Don’t you think?

Anyway, there was simply no way I was walking home -or walking anywhere else for the matter- so I queued for my bus. I stood there for a good half hour before I got impatient and called my dad.

Who didn’t save me, by the way.

So instead, I waited for another 45minutes till I finally got on the bus. I didn’t even get a seat.
Sorry, I had to say it. It’s one of the only ways you can tell I’m Singaporean. I also complain a lot, and ramble and talk too much.

BACK TO THE POINT.

When I finally got home, I was worn out. It didn’t take long for my asthma to catch on and soon I was hyperventilating. Or gasping like a fish out of water. Whatever you may pick to make me look more pitiful BECAUSE I REALLY WAS, OKAY?

I ended up falling sick, falling down in the bathroom (because I fell asleep standing up), twisting my good leg, and out of bed because my brain kept thinking I was going to suffocation to death and jerkes me from my slumber every half an hour or so. It’s a very caring brain.

By the end of the week, I had experienced a series of’Bad luck Cherie’ senerios and was confined to my room. Or a 1meter radius from my bed. At least I had my laptop with me.

While I was down and almost out, the haze worsened and hit a PSI of 450 (I think). My entire office worked from home so I had no excuse not to work too. Even though my entire body was aching from falling everywhere (but in love. Ba-dum-tist) and I was running a marathon of a fever, I got up at 9am to reply emails.

The bad thing about being an office lady was that an inbox full of emails was a pretty terrifying sight.

As the haze raged on, people still queued for this hello kitty craze plush toy from MacDs’. Queues started as early as 3am in the mornings and would be sold out within the hour. Everywhere. Really hardcore stuff. I knew a friend who would talk to me about it. He actually queued from 2am once and had to go around Singapore looking for outlets that haven’t sold out yet.
He didn’t manage to get the kitties and resorted to ordering them online from China instead. [Insert appropriate Jackie Chan meme.]

People bought many value meals for the toy, and threw the food away, angering some ‘End World Hunger’ organisations, and sold them for as high as a few hundreds online. The whole thing was ridiculous in itself and gradually got old.

During the weekends, my family went out to have lunch together.

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I think we’re rocking the masked look. One step closer to becoming ninjas!

The haze got better soon after and when it finally started pouring down on this hazy island, it ‘hailed’.

Little pebbles fell from the sky and once again, we panicked. Words like acid rain, cloud seeding and poison rain were thrown around and people started posting about it on Facebook. Some people argued while others shared one too many posts. It was pretty entertaining to watch.

So there you have it. The three H’s of last month.

Haze, Hail and Hello Kitty.

This is Cherie reporting not so live from the scene.
Cheers!

5 Generations of Pokemon

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Pokemon IS my childhood. I still make Pokemon references and use their pick up lines. I have it on my phone, PSP and PC. WHY OH WHY DID IT HAVE TO GO ON DS. GDI. Which is funny because of all the digital platforms I played Pokemon on, none were the official ones. I never had a Gameboy colour. Hell, I never had those Gameboy consoles to play Super Mario on either. My family never believed in buying anything so expensive (Because money is hard to earn, Cherie! Unquote.) for us, so while my sister gave up on whatever Pokemon and virtually related mediums there were then, I was making do with what I had. Which was a dial-up internet connection, AskJeves and Yahoo. Yes, that was my generation. I still remember being yelled up for hogging the dial-up and hacking into my parent’s dial-up account. Good times.

So while my sisters were busy making something of their adolescent lives, acing their spelling tests and mental sums, doing sports and what not, I was cozying up at home with my really, really really, really, really  huge and heavy desktop, finding another way to get my hands on what the popular kids in school were playing in school. Pokemon. I’m pretty proud to say that I managed to get the emulator up and running by myself, after reading forum after forum for tips and download tricks that didn’t exceed my computer’s bandwidth and memory. 20GB of memory was shared between the family then. Looking back, I don’t know how we survived.

When I finally got my first game running (Pokemon Yellow), I was ecstatic. Never felt so accomplished in my life. I was so happy when they dropped me off at Pallet town and I had Pikachu running around behind me. Everything. Wow. Memories.

More than 10 years down the road, I still watch Pokemon on the telly. I watch gameplays and walkthroughs on Youtube. Pokemon always changes, and no matter how old I get, I still end up going back to Pokemon. The plot is always changing. We’re always battling someone new. The Pokemons look different. Graphics are getting better. My gosh.

But most of all, I love how cute and pretty some Pokemons look. From sleek to elegant to adorable, I just can’t get enough of them. One of my most favorite side games in Pokemon Emerald (my all time favorite version), were the beauty contests. I’d surf all over Mossdeep city (actually just that two specific squares) just to chance upon a Febas and throw a fucking master ball at it. Yes, I glitched the game, but when it came down to my beauty contests, serious business.

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Not to mention, I’ve bought most of the Pokemon guides (those $60 guides to get your money’s worth from the game) to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I was pretty hardcore, pretty insane and I loved every second of it. Pokemon is probably the reason why I’m so introverted, such a geek and addicted to the internet. If I didn’t play or watch Pokemon during my childhood, I’d probably be a dancer or in some kind of sport. Maybe my stamina wouldn’t be so bad, and my heart would have been broken by a boy I’d actually seen in real life.

BUT HEY. 

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All’s well that ends well, I quite like how I am now. At least I didn’t go out and lose my virginity when I was 16, drink or smoke. Pokemon protected me from all that. *nod nod* All hail Pokemon.

Enough with my rambling! Onward to the Pokemons!

Generation 1:
I’m actually most familiar with this generation since it’s the one I put most time and effort into this generation. I tried drawing them, trying to push the truck at the ferry to find Mew and breeding my Evees to collect all the Evee evolutions. It was a good generation and I really loved it though it was restricted to a really small set of towns and routes compared to other generations.

lapras

Lapras
ninetales

Ninetales
articuno

Articuno

dragonair

Dragonair

flareon

Flareon

jolteon

Jolteon

vaporeon

Vaporeon
mew

Mew

Generation 2:

Generation 2 was actually not too bad. I had lots of fun because I was able to seemingly start off from where I stopped in the previous generation to Jhoto (sp?). New Pokemons still retained the previous generation’s drawing style so it wasn’t too much of a change and I could still adapt. If I’m not wrong, Generation 2 was also when we weren’t gender locked anymore. 😀

celebi

Celebi

espeon

Espeon

lugia

Lugia

misdreavus

Misdreavus

suicune

Suicune

umbreon

Umbreon

Generation 3: 

absol

Absol

gardevoir

Gardevoi

kirlia

Kirlia

jirachi

Jirachi

mawile

Mawile

milotic

Milotic

rayquaza

Rayquaza

Generation 4:

Generation 4 was when Pokemon came out on DS and I had to play it on a split screen emulator on my laptop. I had to admit, Pokemon took on quite the change for this generation. They added in tons of new features as well as modified how some of the Gen 1-3 pokemons looked like or posed. I didn’t exactly like many of the new pokemon in the generation if you noticed. Only the new Evee evolutions and a psychic pokemon or two.

arceus

Arcues

cresselia

Cresselia

glaceon

Glaceon

leafeon

Leafeon

Generation 5: 

Generation 5 is by far the most confusing generation for me partly because I tried playing the Japanese version first and was entirely lost when they dropped my character off in her town. However, Gen 5 was the first time I had a grass type pokemon as my starter. I’ve always been a vain gamer. I go for looks over stats (most of the time), if not I would try to cover it up with costumes (evident in Dragon Nest). I went gaga over how the final evolution of my grass type starter turned out. It looks like a Dragonair-Milotic cross evolved with a leaf stone. Really pretty!

A few highlights of the new Pokemons were the Ice cream and Garbage pokemons. The garbage pokemon was pure rubbish (pun intended) but I thought the Ice Cream Pokemon was pretty adorable. As ridiculous as everything may have seemed, the generation was pretty interesting to play, though I had to play it on a split screen, which took me a while to get used to. I still don’t like it, but I don’t have much of a choice do I?

serperior

Spererior

vanilluxe

Vanilluxe

reshiram

Reshiram

meloetta-aria

Meloetta

lilligant

Lilligant

cinccino

Cinccino

How I wish Pokemon could be played on PC soon, just like DJ Max Trilogy. It’d be a huge jump if they turned it into an online platform as well. We wouldn’t necessarily all be in the same town, but at least we’d be able to trade Pokemons without going through forums and worrying if we’ll get cheated or not.

I’m really happy with Pokemon. I can’t believe it’s been five generations.

My gosh, I feel old. And to all that loves Pokemon, YOU ARE MY FRIEND.

Rock on,

Cherie.