just minishorts.

…just like you.

I had to go and rewrite my entire biodata, because I'm grown up now, and I want to leave the angsty minishorts behind. I can't deny the past, I can't say I cringe at it either, but I'm glad I made all the mistakes I had to make to stand where I am right now. I'm not sure I'm a better person now or not, but I'm certain I'm older… definitely not more mature though, although I'm always trying.

The spanking new about page.

With this I just wanted to declare again, that everything here is about me. ABOUT ME. I like to talk about me. I can't always talk about myself all the time, and this is just about the only place where I get to get low, get personal, talk about my personal fears.

I think for some time already, I've been holding back, probably with all that fear of people discovering just who I am.

Now? I think it's quite okay. No matter how much I explain, I'm not going to be able to explain the whole deal. No matter how many back-logged posts you've read, you're not ever going to know the real me. No matter how much I keep posting, there's no way I'm ever going to find the place and time to reveal everything there is to reveal, but I can assure you of this. You're helping me discover a lot about myself EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I'm talking to the blog damn it.

^_^

I'm going to go play with my camera again. Plus, I've got a pleasant surprise for readers coming up in a few days. Free gifts anyone?

I've been reduced into a non-existent, third person, talked about 'her' in both my mother's and boyfriend's lexicon. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing… well, I suppose you'd could say there's two sides to this. The good news is, the relationship that I wanted to nurture between Eric and my mother is blooming far, far beyond my wildest imaginations. That's a good thing of course.

The bad news is, as a result, I see myself becoming the sacrificial lamb in this blossoming friendship that my mom and Eric now share. AT MY EXPENSE.

'Aunty, the other day your daughter and I went…'
'Eric, your girlfriend loves that perfume you bought her…'
'Aunty you know your daughter sprays it on like there's no tomorrow…'
'Eric, that's because you bought such a huge bottle for her and I believe she thinks she HAS to finish it…'

'I don't! I don't do that!' Imagine me, arms flailing miserably in an attempt to catch their attention. I'm seated at the same table throughout, but apparently, I'm invisible. INVISIBLE!

'Well can you believe what your daughter did to the monkey I gave her? She cut off the stitching!'
'I think that thing you gave to your girlfriend is quite scary.'
'Your daughter lah, she went and cut off the stitchings and now the hood slips in and out…'

'Oi. Look here look here!'

They ignore me. I swear they do. I swear I could disappear to Timbuktoo and they'd still be going, 'your daughter, your girlfriend.'