Last night I went for my first dance party. My first official party with people in my age group at the end of the Model United Nations Conference. The three days spent in stifling school blazers and referring to yourself in third person.
I was the delegate of Sudan and was voted in the superlatives: Most Act-Big delegate.
But in a sense Sudan was the only country representing Africa in the UN Reform council so I was perfectly justified.
It was quite alright, lemonade, food, a piece of brownie, and the some quite cliched songs of the teenage world. Namely "Womanizer" and "Don't Cha" and a track or two from Rick Astley and Maroon 5, some random Bollywood remix and the type which reminds you a little of Black Eyed Peas but isn't Black Eyed Peas. People danced and as I was thinking about after the dinner and dance last night, I think the best song to describe the overall feelings I had was "Too Busy Being Fabulous"
If you notice the dance floor, and the whole conference span of three days, some people just want attention and they do get it by cracking up a few jokes and doing something. I have nothing against that, just a little envy that I don't know how to achieve that sort of attitude, especially around the guys. What with my school being an all girls school since the age of 7 and the only male acquaintances I have being people from church.
A balance between striking up a conversation and flirting is hard to find during this sort of social event. Conversations were way easy during the conference itself. But when the actual partying starts and I'm in a golden dress which has a drawstring (or draw-sash) neckline and reaches to below my knees... You find it hard to approach people when up on stage and tearing through the dance floor are girls who strut their stuff and look, in the easiest way to describe it, cool.
A delegate of Russia, (most schools have two teams and so my school had the countries Russia and Sudan), reportedly (she was not in my council), won the superlative for most flirty. And some other things. So it is rather hard for me to come to terms with my wants for, perhaps, a dance with someone for a hyped up song. It doesn't help matters when the guys start pretending to be gay couples.
I guess none of that matters. I've got God behind me in whatever I do, just that it is a little hard to hear him amidst loud disco music. Here are a few things I've learnt.
1) Never let yourself get to the stage where you fit the criteria of "Too Busy Being Fabulous"
2) Never wear high heels for dancing, or even normal life, you were dying and you weren't even in platforms or stilettos.
3) Never go partying on a school week. (This is holiday week but the 3 full-day United Nations simulation isn't moving my apparent stack of homework)
4)Always be seen as a person who doesn't mind love, but don't look like easy pucker-up either.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
New Books
To reward myself (and to spend the nice gift card from the school and the Borders Vouchers and my new Preferred Card)
I got these books over the weekend at Borders.
1) The Thousand and One Arabian Nights (complete translated version by Sir Richard Burton)
Beat that Erin!
2) The Memory Keeper's Daughter
3) The Kite Runner (I am a person who does not want to get caught up in fads but eventually buys the book because everyone says its good. This however does not apply to Jodi Picoult)
4) Brave New World
And from other stores
5) The Woman in White
And Secondhand
6) The Hobbits
7) The Two Towers J.R.R. Tolkien (I'm going to experiment with him, read only the Hobbits of all his works)
8) Private Myths (Psychological book borrowed from Art Teachers)
I got these books over the weekend at Borders.
1) The Thousand and One Arabian Nights (complete translated version by Sir Richard Burton)
Beat that Erin!
2) The Memory Keeper's Daughter
3) The Kite Runner (I am a person who does not want to get caught up in fads but eventually buys the book because everyone says its good. This however does not apply to Jodi Picoult)
4) Brave New World
And from other stores
5) The Woman in White
And Secondhand
6) The Hobbits
7) The Two Towers J.R.R. Tolkien (I'm going to experiment with him, read only the Hobbits of all his works)
8) Private Myths (Psychological book borrowed from Art Teachers)
Friday, March 6, 2009
Don't Hang on to Something Too Much
Just when I thought just something right was going my way, its been spirited away again by that insolent nuisance, debate.
This is what happened:
I was listening to the radio as my dad drove me to school, the car radio turned onto 90.5 fm, Classic hits radio station. The music was good, then came the DJ's daily trivia. It was on art.
For some background information I take Art History and have been to the Louvre, twice.
DG Maggie: What was Venus de Milo holding in her left hand?"
DG Hamish: A handbag. (He's rather thick skulled sometimes but essentially good humoured)
DG Maggie: No that is not correct, but if you do know the answer, text message to 72346, GB space, your name, space, and your answer. And you stand a chance to win a pair of Disney On Ice tickets featuring the Disney princesses.
Me: Apple. ( At that time I was thinking of the Birth of Venus, who was placed on my desktop for several weeks last year. She was in a pose with nothing in her left hand, which was placed over her bare bosom. But the symbolic representation of Venus would mean Apple, the forbidden fruit in the Bible or referred to as the apple Paris or Alexander in the Trojan war gave her, which represented her beauty. Or so says the novel I've read a couple times over and which I had flipped through again over the span of the past few weeks and days or even hours.)
Stagnant pause between which I was frantically pressing the small pad of numbers and letters into my dad's cell since I am *ahem* underage.
Sent.
A young girl who wishes like any other princess-to-be, to relive her childhood experience at Disney On Ice, which includes the Little Mermaid, One Hundred Years of Disney and Snow White and some other recollection which had the Beast falling flat on his back during the routine of him and Belle during the Hundred Years.
A teenager who knows how corrupted Disney has become and is dying to enter a Disney landscape devoid of High School Musical and Hannah Montannah.
Cheerful music which I bobbed my head to while clutching my black back-pack. My dad's car is sometimes pleasantly cold.
Ringing cellular.
I picked it up.
DJ Maggie: Hello, may I speak to the guy who instant messaged us? (I had put my dad's name. *cough* underage *cough*
Me: This is his daughter, I answered the question.
DJ Maggie: Oh! (sounds amused in a nice way) What's your name?
Me (thrilled! I love this radio station): Annabel
DJ Maggie: You got the answer correct, apple isn't it? Out of interest, how did you get the answer?
Me: I study Art in school.
DJ Maggie: How old are you?
Me: *Says underage numeral*
DJ Maggie: (stunned pause) Wow, and you listen to Gold 90 fm! So is this in your syllabus?
Me: Not really, I just had Venus as my desktop background for a few weeks last year. Personal interest.
DJ Maggie: Okay just hold on the line. *exchanges standard instructions*
After which I was put on air, realised my art piece confusion but told my dad after air time, said my answer and heard that someone else guessed that Venus had a Bible in her hand.
Someone in class saw me walk in and shouted, "You were on radio right?" Thereafter part of my circle knew about it and I was truly on Cloud 9. Thankfully there was still half-an-hour till school started.
Throughout the day I was thanking God but I had a sense of unease with the date of the concert. I was hoping it was going to be during the March holidays which is when this sort of production goes blasting "WE ARE LIVE IN SINGAPORE!" There was also the nagging apprehension of the Julia Gabriel's debate, we would get the motion that afternoon.
The motion turned out to be "This House Would Allow Community Service as an Alternative for National Service." We're Opposition and have precisely one week, now precisely less than a week at this time I'm recounting my episode, till Friday the thirteenth of March. Negative annotation and stress upon the numeral.
After a counter-productive session, (which ended early because our trainer was seriously not well. (Pray for her folks) She caught the bug from her sister.) I told my mom, who came to fetch me. (My parents pick me up when I end late)
I was simply delighted, I found my Disneyland Paris T-Shirt, I knew where my Mickey cap was, I was dreaming of that time in the Louvre when I did see Venus de Milo, I had a lovely dinner and my dad came home slightly late, now precisely about an hour ago. I asked him about the collection of the tickets to Disney on Ice.
Then he asked me innocently, "Do you have anything on next Friday?"
Next Friday was March the 13th.
I was stunned and started crying. Really tears and tears *stopped to glance at this month's National Geographic* and then looked-I'm sure- like an upset child who's lost her chance to see THE concert. To match my dad said I could have some ice-cream. As if I could bring myself to put on anymore weight. I feel really fat and I wasn't bothered at my eating habits (which are rather good, just that my lifestyle leaves no time for strenuous exercise during competition weeks, which have piled on me only this year) until the blow came.
The same girl who has consequently ignored her homework and debate planning to blog her woes now has to face reality again. Her dad has given her half an orange instead. The same girl who hasn't had a party or true celebration for her birthday, which was February 26th. All because of the debate competition, Julia Gabriel's naturally, was on Friday and Saturday had the Model United Nations Meeting and fellowship meeting at night for my parents. Sunday was no better, church, art, dinner, sleep. Then the weekday tumult.
Now to life and her obligations of me. Which is to stop crying like the six-year-old me, which has hidden all this while very visibly.
Never mind, thank God in all circumstances and the music sung by the church choir and the body of Christ shall outweigh whatever sung anywhere else in the world.
This is what happened:
I was listening to the radio as my dad drove me to school, the car radio turned onto 90.5 fm, Classic hits radio station. The music was good, then came the DJ's daily trivia. It was on art.
For some background information I take Art History and have been to the Louvre, twice.
DG Maggie: What was Venus de Milo holding in her left hand?"
DG Hamish: A handbag. (He's rather thick skulled sometimes but essentially good humoured)
DG Maggie: No that is not correct, but if you do know the answer, text message to 72346, GB space, your name, space, and your answer. And you stand a chance to win a pair of Disney On Ice tickets featuring the Disney princesses.
Me: Apple. ( At that time I was thinking of the Birth of Venus, who was placed on my desktop for several weeks last year. She was in a pose with nothing in her left hand, which was placed over her bare bosom. But the symbolic representation of Venus would mean Apple, the forbidden fruit in the Bible or referred to as the apple Paris or Alexander in the Trojan war gave her, which represented her beauty. Or so says the novel I've read a couple times over and which I had flipped through again over the span of the past few weeks and days or even hours.)
Stagnant pause between which I was frantically pressing the small pad of numbers and letters into my dad's cell since I am *ahem* underage.
Sent.
A young girl who wishes like any other princess-to-be, to relive her childhood experience at Disney On Ice, which includes the Little Mermaid, One Hundred Years of Disney and Snow White and some other recollection which had the Beast falling flat on his back during the routine of him and Belle during the Hundred Years.
A teenager who knows how corrupted Disney has become and is dying to enter a Disney landscape devoid of High School Musical and Hannah Montannah.
Cheerful music which I bobbed my head to while clutching my black back-pack. My dad's car is sometimes pleasantly cold.
Ringing cellular.
I picked it up.
DJ Maggie: Hello, may I speak to the guy who instant messaged us? (I had put my dad's name. *cough* underage *cough*
Me: This is his daughter, I answered the question.
DJ Maggie: Oh! (sounds amused in a nice way) What's your name?
Me (thrilled! I love this radio station): Annabel
DJ Maggie: You got the answer correct, apple isn't it? Out of interest, how did you get the answer?
Me: I study Art in school.
DJ Maggie: How old are you?
Me: *Says underage numeral*
DJ Maggie: (stunned pause) Wow, and you listen to Gold 90 fm! So is this in your syllabus?
Me: Not really, I just had Venus as my desktop background for a few weeks last year. Personal interest.
DJ Maggie: Okay just hold on the line. *exchanges standard instructions*
After which I was put on air, realised my art piece confusion but told my dad after air time, said my answer and heard that someone else guessed that Venus had a Bible in her hand.
Someone in class saw me walk in and shouted, "You were on radio right?" Thereafter part of my circle knew about it and I was truly on Cloud 9. Thankfully there was still half-an-hour till school started.
Throughout the day I was thanking God but I had a sense of unease with the date of the concert. I was hoping it was going to be during the March holidays which is when this sort of production goes blasting "WE ARE LIVE IN SINGAPORE!" There was also the nagging apprehension of the Julia Gabriel's debate, we would get the motion that afternoon.
The motion turned out to be "This House Would Allow Community Service as an Alternative for National Service." We're Opposition and have precisely one week, now precisely less than a week at this time I'm recounting my episode, till Friday the thirteenth of March. Negative annotation and stress upon the numeral.
After a counter-productive session, (which ended early because our trainer was seriously not well. (Pray for her folks) She caught the bug from her sister.) I told my mom, who came to fetch me. (My parents pick me up when I end late)
I was simply delighted, I found my Disneyland Paris T-Shirt, I knew where my Mickey cap was, I was dreaming of that time in the Louvre when I did see Venus de Milo, I had a lovely dinner and my dad came home slightly late, now precisely about an hour ago. I asked him about the collection of the tickets to Disney on Ice.
Then he asked me innocently, "Do you have anything on next Friday?"
Next Friday was March the 13th.
I was stunned and started crying. Really tears and tears *stopped to glance at this month's National Geographic* and then looked-I'm sure- like an upset child who's lost her chance to see THE concert. To match my dad said I could have some ice-cream. As if I could bring myself to put on anymore weight. I feel really fat and I wasn't bothered at my eating habits (which are rather good, just that my lifestyle leaves no time for strenuous exercise during competition weeks, which have piled on me only this year) until the blow came.
The same girl who has consequently ignored her homework and debate planning to blog her woes now has to face reality again. Her dad has given her half an orange instead. The same girl who hasn't had a party or true celebration for her birthday, which was February 26th. All because of the debate competition, Julia Gabriel's naturally, was on Friday and Saturday had the Model United Nations Meeting and fellowship meeting at night for my parents. Sunday was no better, church, art, dinner, sleep. Then the weekday tumult.
Now to life and her obligations of me. Which is to stop crying like the six-year-old me, which has hidden all this while very visibly.
Never mind, thank God in all circumstances and the music sung by the church choir and the body of Christ shall outweigh whatever sung anywhere else in the world.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
referring to the last post: debate really makes you feel like you know nothing, and the only word that crossed my mind was imbecile.
adjective
3. mentally feeble.
4. showing mental feebleness or incapacity.
5. stupid; silly; absurd.
6. Archaic. weak or feeble.
Of the above I rate myself 4,5 and 6 Uncle Benny.
With regards to that post, I was conked out from Julia Gabriel's debate training and preparation as well as swamped with projects so that was REALLY a bad time to visit a teenage blog. But at least you found it!
My literature made us memorize Composed upon Westminster Bridge by William Wordsworth and it is sort of stuck in my head. Never mind, back to schoolwork after that hike from school through MacRitchie and to the base of the Bukit Timah Hill.
adjective
3. mentally feeble.
4. showing mental feebleness or incapacity.
5. stupid; silly; absurd.
6. Archaic. weak or feeble.
Of the above I rate myself 4,5 and 6 Uncle Benny.
With regards to that post, I was conked out from Julia Gabriel's debate training and preparation as well as swamped with projects so that was REALLY a bad time to visit a teenage blog. But at least you found it!
My literature made us memorize Composed upon Westminster Bridge by William Wordsworth and it is sort of stuck in my head. Never mind, back to schoolwork after that hike from school through MacRitchie and to the base of the Bukit Timah Hill.
Monday, February 23, 2009
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