And this is to all the nice guys

This probably won't be as long, or as profound as the tribute to the girls. Then again, I'm not Jessica Griffith, who probably has lots of time on her hands, and the wounded pride of a nice girl. Disclaimer: Lots of this is based on her tribute, just so you know. Don't sue me.

This is my tribute to the nice guys. To the nice guys who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more. Who spend hours wondering how they can be smarter, stronger, and more attractive, because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the guys who don't force it on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the guys who understand that they aren't perfect and that the girls they're interested in aren't either, for the guys who tease and laugh and wonder about the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time she'll have understood.

This is an homage to the guys who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in jeans and jerseys and sneakers, who care more than they should for girls who don't deserve their attention. This is for those guys who have been in the trenches, who have watched other guys time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the girls in their lives without saying a word. This is for the guys who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds."

This is where I digress. This is also for the guys who don't want to be more than friends, who treasure friendship more than a quick high. This is for the guys who know love is worth the wait, who would rather disappoint someone now than break her heart later. This is for the guys who get their hearts broken again and again, and still believe in love. This is for the closet die-hard romantics.

This is for the guys who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their girl friend hint after hint after hint only to watch her fall for the first cute guy with charm. This is for the guys who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too adorable, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.

And finally, this is for the best friends. The guys who listen to the girls whine, nag and squeal, who watch them fall hard despite your best attempts to tell them otherwise, and who are right there when we hit the ground. This is for the guys who've seen us at our worst and our best, and who love us anyway. This is for the guys who see through us, but still let us think we're fooling them. For the guys who know who the nice girls are, but refuse to take advantage of them.

I won't launch into a rant at girls who don't know what they're missing out on. Simply because if they don't see the nice guy, they don't deserve him. After all, if everybody knew who the nice guys were, there won't be any left for us nice girls, would there?

This is to all the nice girls

This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it. This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep. This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys. This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it. So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race. So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)
By Jessica Leigh Griffith

Here goes nothing

Yes, I know I really shouldnt be blogging on a weekday (and the first day of school at that), but I needed to blog. Something. Anything. Just to get my mind of stuff.

And so here's a list of 10 books you should read some time this year:

1. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
2. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
3. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
4. Sons and Lovers by DH Lawrence
5. A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth
6. New Ideas from Dead Economists by Todd G. Buchholz
7. King Lear by William Shakespeare (No, really???)
8. Brighton Rock by Graham Greene
9. Mister God, This is Anna by Fynn
10. The Way by JoseMaria Escriva

If you've forgotten how beautiful the English language is, read The God of Small Things. It's the only book I've read in months that has made me stop, put it down, lean back and go wow. It leaves you breathless, (and no that has nothing to do with the hot sex in it), and reeling from the magic of Roy's writing. She does things with words, bits of sentences and spirals of paragraphs I've never seen before. Don't take my word for it. Go read.

The Handmaid's Tale leaves you breathless too, but more with a nagging sense of dread than anything. It's a dystopian novel - something like Orwell's 1984, but feministic and with so many twists your heart curls. I won't tell you the story, cuz then it'll take all the fun out of reading the book.

Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice is, needless to say, a winner. She writes the sharpest and wittiest social commentary - and it's delightful cuz a lot of the things she says about the relationships between men and women are still true today. Wonderful when you can identify a crush in a hero/heroine, or an ex-crush in a villain/brainless git.

For General Information, I do the first 3 books in the list for Lit. For someone to have to read these books over and over and over again and still be in love with them, they've gotta be pretty good.

I'm gonna skip describing a couple of the books cuz it's getting late and I've still got homework to do, but New Ideas is by far the most interesting economics book I've read. It's nothing like a text book, and with a bit of thinking all the concepts are so easy to understand. Yay.

If you feel like you've lost your sense of wonderment at the world, or you're just jaded, disenfranchised and tired of life, read Mister God, This is Anna. It is the most beautiful book written about a child by her guardian. Read it, and you'll never look at the world in the same way again.

As for The Way, well, read it if you need inspiration. Or want to be awed. Blessed JoseMaria Escriva founded Opus Dei, a Catholic organisation now known sadly because of bad publicity in books such as the Genesis Code and the Da Vinci code for extremism and fundamentalism. I suggest you find out more about the organisation before drawing any conclusions for yourself, but the book is a gem. A lifeline, if you like. Agree or disagree with me, but give it a glance.

Mum and Dad are out hunting for a lab pup. I'm gonna train him to run with me - dogs are always so much more encouraging than humans. And loving. And accepting. And forgiving. My Teddy is soooo handsome.

10 hours to Term 2

Can you believe it? The march hols are over. OVER. sigh. Shaddup Jordon.

Today was fairly productive. Finished the PC paper Hunter gave us, but took a little longer than the 3 hours I was supposed to take. Just a teeny weeny bit more time. Really.

I can't believe the hols are over. What is the point of a one week holiday when all we can do with it is finish our homework? Huh? HUH??? Ok, well I admit i did a bit more than that. Monday was a blur. Let's see. Went out with my darling cousins on Tuesday, had lunch at Burger King, watched Hitch, splurged at Macs on Oreo McFlurries. Wednesday had lunch at NYDC, then guitar, Thursday went shopping with my mum and Friday was mum's birthday so we spent the day hunting for white lab puppies. (If anybody knows of some, tell me k?) Yesterday was pretty ok, did most of my work in the morning, but went lab hunting in the afternoon again, and spent the evening with my godbrother and his fiancee. Today was by far the most productive, although I only finished 2 essays - that's more than I've done in the entire week. Which tells you exactly how productive the rest of the week was.

Reading random blogs, I realize the most boring thing a blogger can do is tell you about his/her week. So just ignore my last paragraph.

Have you noticed a difference between most girl and guy blogs? Singaporean at least. We tend to have the same general problems, and thus the same issues to whine about. Guys tend to have...very descriptive blogs. Not neccessarily (I probably spelt that wrong) detailed, but descriptive. So you know exactly what happened, why, to whom, when, and the results. Girls on the other have very emotive blogs. Emotion-filled, short briefs of conversations held, excerpts of songs, more of the inner psyche thing. Of course, it's a generalisation. Some guys sound like girls on their blogs. And some girls...well, no. For some reason, I can usually tell when it's a girl blog. Then there are the blogs which are in between. Which refuse to follow the guyorgirl route. Which pride themselves on being neutral, informative and officious. These blogs we skip.

I can feel the holidays slipping away. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

When school starts, I get to start it in the pool. Bedok Swimming Complex to be exact. I look terrible in my swimming costume. *sulks*

And you know, no matter how much we shrug it off, laugh about it, pretend it isn't there, it is. It's coming. The As. And we're getting closer and closer. I side-stepped last year, but this year I'm gonna be plunging straight in. Without a life vest. No fear. Just TERROR. Nothing to worry about, no? I work best under pressure anyway. Adrenaline-rush. Hopefully it doesnt poison me or something. Heh.

I want fish and co. Haha. I love the fries. And the cream. And the fish. Fish and chips. Mmmm. Brilliant. I'm salivating. Yes, I know you didn't need to know that. Still.

Is anybody else's blogger in Chinese? Mine is. Bloody hell. I know I should keep my Mandarin up to scratch, but being forced to navigate blogger in it is hell. Grr. If anybody knows how to help me, please do. I'll be indebted. You might even get lunch.

Why do I blog like someone's reading? For all I know, it's just me and...me. Ok, I know some people read. But nobody tags. *nudge* *sharper nudge* *kick in shins* It's depressing, y'know? Cut me some slack here.

Right. Back to the homework then. I can't wait for the As to be over. 6 months of freedom, here I come.

Blog Surfing

I don't want to link anybody, cuz then I'll have too many to link. And besides, it's rude to link people when you don't want them to link you. In addition to that the people I'm about to link don't know I exist. Which...is probably a good thing. Judging from their (soon to be) obvious ability to eavesdrop.

Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present my 3 most favourite (non-friend) blogs:

1. www.inpassing.org

2. xiaxue.blogspot.com

Sample :
He stared at me (giving me the exsperated face so many guys like to give me when I insult Jolin/Wong lilin/etc), and asked slowly,

"Thats where you are wrong, yanyan. The beauty of her, lies in her simplicity.""Oh really?", I told him.

"Go date an amoeba then. Can't get simplier than that."

3. www.mrbrown.com

And before you berate me on my supposed lack of taste (yes, i know, what?! xiaxue?!) I wish to emphasize that I DO have a sense of humour. And it DOES enjoy intellectual. Sometimes. Besides, she isnt too bad. Rather endearing. Mr Brown...need I say more? Hilarious. Straight to the point too. AND male. Which is relatively novel, since I don't find many male blogs interesting. (Note to potentially male readers: No darlings, I love your blogs. Honest.) As for In Passing, well, go read it. Especially the earlier posts. Her later posts get a little boring.

If you're into the Iraqi-US war, or if you just want something to be chilled by, check out www.riverbendblog.blogspot.com for a woman's take on things.

And you know what, I'm in a weird mood. I told myself I don't want this to be a mood-influenced blog, but hell it already is. Had a strange dream last night, (no Jordon, not telling :p) and it kinda tainted today. Then again, I always have weird dreams. More weird dreams than good dreams. Which is what's really disturbing me I guess.

Yesterday was good though. For the record, my cousins are adorable.

Gonna sleep. Hopefully the sweet dreams do come.

March Hols

I realise I havn't blogged in a while. And havn't suffered any withdrawal symptoms either. Interesting.

Anyway. I have discovered that I'm over any and all of the crushes, major and minor, that I may have or ever had. Woohoo. Over, over, over. Heh. Excuse me while I rejoice a while.







Back.
Bought 2 books from mph yesterday: the catcher in the rye, jd salinger, and why i write, george orwell. Finished catcher by 3 today, and half of why i write. No wonder my dad refuses to buy me books - it's such a waste of money. Haha, but I like having my own books. Books are nice. They smell good, they feel good, they tast- ahh no, don't worry, I don't eat my books when I'm done with them.

I just ruined my diet this weekend. Met darling za yesterday and had sticky chewy chocolate sundae for tea. then met ame and chris and had RIBS at cartel. so much ribs that we had to doggy bag them haha. Then today i told myself NO snacking. Which worked till dinner, which technically isn't a snack right? So yeah. I had fish and chips, which is okay in a shaky sort of way, but then I gave in to a heavenly chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream. Mmmmmmmm. Arghhhhhh. Im so gonna suck in my swimming costume on monday. *shudders*