musings from a bygone era
sometimes , especially when listening to tunes from the Ultralounge collection , i really wish that i belong to some sephia-coloured era where i would while away days by some al-fresco cafe in Paris with mosaic tiles dressed in a chiffon dress and cloche hat , and spend frivolous nights twirling with random aristocats looking like a grecian goddess with a grecian hairstyle and a grecian saucy pout.
The grecian 'do . Charlize Theron had it , remember ?
And yes , i wouldn't even have to give a damn about any fluctuating economy ( think The Great Depression.) because it is so not in vogue for a chic parisian lady to meddle in men's affairs .
Yep. Men still ruled the household in the good ol' days when women were supposed to be seen and not heard.
Actually i wouldn't mind being one of those uber-classy ladies from the Victorian era though i'll seriously look so darn out of place because their women are always potrayed with smooth creamy flesh , a heaving bosom thats easily a 40DD by today's standard and they're always plus-sized . And very elaborate ornaments dotting their over-curled hair. And smelling of lavender. ( i hate the scent of lavender btw )
how the hell do i shake my booty in THIS ?!
from my POV , i always have this impression of very opulent high-tea affairs on lush green lawn whenever i think about the Victorian era . Yep , drinking earl grey tea from a dainty tea cup with your pinky extended ( probably to facilitate access to the nostrils ) . Tiers of rich cream cakes , madeleines and hot biscuits . Marie Antoinette would turn headlessly in her grave.
okay enough of my daydreaming.
FINALLY. my exams are over.
my clipped wings have been replaced by a pair of state-of-the-art hydrogen-powered engines that would fly me at Mach10 speeds.
two weeks of self-confinement are but a passing memory.
burn books , BURN !
seriously , i used to have no qualms about writing an impromptu essay , be it narrative , expository or any shitty kind of prose.
but now , i'm tramautised by the sheer amount of shit i've gotta write for just 4 exam papers .
my right wrist is still sore and i swear it trembles slightly when stationary.
its a NEW YEAR !
there is absolutely no cause for celebration , what with the recent spate of unfortunate events , both natural ( mother nature unleashing her wrath ) and man-made ( terrorists with juvenile thoughts that blowing up buildings to make a point is cool and that God will approve of it ) alike.
not that your apathetic Singaporean teen ( and i dare say some ignorant adults ) will give two hoots about it of course.
they probably think that Baghdad is some kind of musical instrument , like bagpipes .
no , they won't say bagpipes .
they would say "baghdad ? oh ! that balloon thing with flutes sticking out right ? then the pattern like Burberry's one hor ?"