Eileen; sahkae@gmail.com

I line my eyes like a raccoon and my nail polish is always cracked.

You know how people claim their muscles 'protest'? And how muscles too can 'scream with agony'? I've finally understood that personified claim.

In a fervent, half-baked attempt to lose a miniscule portion of body fat, Dippy and I went jogging on Friday night, from his place to Bedok Jetty. Oh, AGONY. The first stitch came before I even reached the underpass - and that's approximately 200m from Dippy's doorstep. And then I piled everything and more back on with dinner AND supper.

Aches and pains aside, deadlines are blooming and looming. I'm so hopelessly incompetent when it comes to techy computer knowledge. I'm flapping because I cannot open the YMCA Annual Report to do a copy-check and it's due on Monday! [*edit: Alvan saved the day!]

Back to work.

My NEC's hard drive is dead. 'Abuse and misuse', Jeremy said.

So if I REALLY want my prom / Cameron / Langkawi / misc photographs and my Art scans, I've to send it to the forensics. $93 for analysis, $1000 for extraction. Well, if I REALLY want to. But I think you guys will be sweet enough to send me photo links and all. Thank you in advance. [And no, I wasn't this cool when Jeremy made that heartless statement.]

And I'm pretty proud of myself for refusing to change NEC and just sticking to upgrading it. Dad was like, 'You want your Macbook? Or an IBM Thinkpad?', and I was so tempted, before these lil words started dancing around in my head - 'How much do you make per hour? How long will you take to save up for Macbook then?'.

Ahh, work makes me a better person.

Today I got to help a stylist pick outfits for a photoshoot tomorrow, and my copy was chosen for a Larry Jewellery ad. Yesterday I managed to get a sneak peek of top secret animations for Tiger Beer and helped direct some celebrities for a Hi-Def recording. In fact, I think the more I complain, the better work gets.

I believe I'm still on a Balinese high. People get Bali Belly. I think mine's Bali Fever. It's a quiet, hazy, contentment; the type that flutters across your lips and lingers. Like Bintang.

I can't pinpoint exactly what made me fall in love. It's a sweet, warm feeling in the stomach, like caramel swirls. Maybe it was just all that Bintangs / Bali Coolers / Bali Hais churning. Or the people, urban decay, the way of life.

Maybe what put that smile across my lips were the Balinese men. 'Chantek', they'd call me. Or, 'Hello, you jipoun?' [Hello, are you Japanese]. They're extremely vocal and amiable, very different from Singaporean males. Yet this is what makes them scary at times.

Bagus is a 25 year old painter at a gallery I visited. Fluid in his movements, long fluttery lashes, well-travelled, genteel manners and appearance. He seemed genuinely nice, until he started intruding - 'You like Bali? You want to stay here forever? Marry me, I can teach you to paint.' You know how murderers have fancy prose. This one had that evil glint and fancy painting abilities.

Agus is the 23 year old hairdresser cum foot reflexologist at Andrean. He's boyish with red hair and spent an entire hour looking at me while massaging my mum's feet, attempting to make small talk whenever I awoke from my supposed slumber. 'You got boyfriend? I be your boyfriend, massage you everyday, cut your hair.. Your ah pa can also get massage everyday.' Horrors.

It's worse at the beach. The local males engulf the Asian females like Black Plague. Or the equivalent to the curling waves at Kuta. I buy my 90-cent Bintang and scurry back to the safety of the hotel.

Speaking of which, alcohol is so unbelievably cheap in Bali. And no one's kidding when they say an icy Bintang's relief from the biting sun. There's a beer belly immerging. And Arak is pure poison. It's so harsh you can feel it ravaging down your throat; poison of choice to bring about self-inflicting pain for the undecided suicide-ridden sadist.

And then there's A&W. Curly fries and rootbeer floats. And Krispy Kreme. I scarf down 4 donuts at each visit. Fat's wrapping around my heart.

Clothing and food isn't as cheap as expected. Prices at roadside stalls are sky-high, and you're an idiot if you don't manage to close the deal at a quarter of the initial price. Bargaining is such a chore, and they're so persistent that I actually feel rotten if I don't make a purchase. There's also 21% tax imposed at retail outlets - do I hear you say daylight robbery?

Heck that. When it comes to urban decay and photography, Bali takes the cake. Yomal, our driver, drove us to Kintamani, a dormant volcano. I can't even describe the view. Imagine a volcano with cloud tendrils. Or rather, think photostudio in the 1960s, where customers stood against a faded backdrop of a landscape. That is Kintamani. I have to climb that one day. And don't even get me started on the villages. Stone structures and carvings, volcanic stone and limestone, moss and sun-kissed children. Balinese women decked in their prettiest, swaying elegantly as they head to the temple, whilst balancing huge baskets of offerings on their head. We are invisible to the villagers, a passing wind, the whisper that skirts round corners; almost voyeuristic. Life is happy there.

Everyone's eyes crinkle at the ends, everyone's lips stretch upwards at the corners. It's not just the locals, glad for tourism, celebrating tourist spending and commercialisation. It's everybody. You wave to the German, compare beers with an Australian, talk photography with the Japanese. Everyone is a stranger, yet a friend. Or should I say every stranger becomes a friend. It's quaint, it's beautiful, this unguarded consciousness.

When they say 'celebration of life', I think it's got to be Bali.

There's less accounts to handle as Chinese New Year draws closer. The past 3 days have been a bore, any actual copywriting that I did was either for MIS or Nursing / Allied Health, and that wasn't much. I think The Mentor's annoyed with my constant 'There really really isn't any work for me to do?'.

So today he set up the Mac for me and let me watch episodes of 'Do Not Disturb' - it's a new Channel 5 programme, sexual and by Kelvin Tong [of 'Eating Air' fame if I'm not wrong]. Not that tantalising. Reminds me of Panic Room and of all cheap productions.

And I've STUN magazine's mock-up with me, anyone interested in viewing and giving comments?

Also, I'd be departing for Bali tomorrow evening, and will only be back on Tuesday, around midnight. Call or email me if anything.

Till I next see you, much love and enjoy your Chinese New Year :)

Those at work were comparing housing prices today, and Fu suddenly quiped, 'I think, you'd call a place home as long as you own a house there.' And to justify that she mentioned the house she had in Beijing as compared to the rented room here in Singapore.

I'm seemingly divided on that; I'm not too sure myself. I've shifted countless times - Bedok R, Rose Garden, Jago, Clover Cres, Serangoon Lane, St Heilers', WMC. I'm not sure if those were homes, or merely places of shelter, an abode in which time passes. It's always felt like a sojourn. Or rather, it's always been one.

We finally did up WMC last year end. Built-ins, fresh paints, new lightings etc etc. It was like moving into a new place. And maybe this is what's finally home. It seems more secure that we won't be moving again, that we're in between our two clubs, near my parents' childhood homes, near my kindergarden, within walking distance to really good food. Perhaps Fu was right afterall; that home is where ownership is, where one places more than a monetary value on the dwelling, and it becomes more than just four walls of protection.

Driving is SO fun. Now I can't wait to get my own car and go cruising when I want to. Just that THAT will be really hard with my paltry pay.

Anyway I'm a pretty fast learner according to my instructor. HAHA. And I spent more than half the lesson driving round the circuit and chatting with him about cars - until a motorcyclist screamed when I drove pass - and he started thinking I was a reckless driver. And I only stalled TWICE. I'm going to pass in no time.

Work's topsy turvy. I was so busy two days ago I almost couldn't run off to meet Dippy. And today I was so free I just swirled around in my seat and ate packets of Mamee. All that whilst the other section of the creative department was a battleground - work overload. It's funny, this mad-cap world of advertising.

I have my first official graphic design job. Joule Club's logo, courtesy of Mich. It's pretty exciting, I'm trying to make this as professional a job as I can - I really ought to do a job brief while I'm at it. In anycase, it makes me feel good knowing that I've already made a $100 donation and a logo contribution to the currently non-existent expedition.

'Joule' isn't too easy to work on I think. All that's dancing in my head's lightbulbs and turbines. Not the most inspiring of things.

Mum's suggesting going to Shanghai for a shopping trip in March. That will be so sweet. Cheongsams and cool alleys and love my tummies.

The two men and I are starting to find some common ground. A sixty year old prudish virgin whose feeble heart cannot take the sight of any word or phrase pertaining to sexual intercourse.

They asked me out for coffee today; I wonder if that signals the start of a harmonious work relationship. Possibly so, yet maybe not. After all, I told one of the men he had the mental aptitude of an army boy.

And I feel really awful tonight; it's quite a long story.

Boy A's in army, but SMSes me on a regular basis. It's always messages like 'hey, what are you doing now?', 'I just hurt my back..', 'You busy now? I just...' I don't ever reply such inane messages unless the person captivates me, or if I sympathize. It's usually the latter.

Tonight, I received one of his messages during dinner with Dippy, who promptly grabbed my phone and replied him with a 'This is her boyfriend / stop disturbing her' message, to which Boy A apologized profusely.

And to top that, I think I disappointed Boy B. I knew he was interested; he was always so sweet - walking across the room to adjust the air conditioner's temperature if I as much as folded my arms as he thought I was cold, being the absolute gentleman etc. The right topic came out tonight, and I said what I had to. No elaboration, no questions, he got the hint.

Sometimes, I wish I had clones. Mini-Mes.
I hate hurting the undeserving. It makes me feel detestable.

This isn't a post to brag. There's issues I need to resolve, things I need to work out, and perhaps this reeks subtly of it.

Work's good yet bad.

I'm working on a new male's magazine with two males, and it's painful. PAINFUL, rather. The magazine is so trashy, it's an embarrassment to be associated with it. I stifle what lies between a groan and rip-roar laughter at every meeting [current count: three], and practically wither and disintegrate whenever Manly Male Number One (MMN1) leans across the table and demands, 'So you sure you know what's manly?'. Oh hell yes. And it's not you.

And well, typical cocky males. Male Number Two is practically wallpaper, MMN1's the Alpha male. He thinks scantily clad girls with tattoos are hot, thinks he can get anyone, and has this wolfish look when he mentions them. I'm tickled, really. It's amazing how full of themselves some males can be, and how they think they're God's greatest gift to women. Hellooo, reality check please! For all the mirrors he peers into, you'd think he'd spot the difference between himself and other males. Or maybe his pants conceal a 12-inch dick and he keeps an assortment of paperbags in his sex kit.

Silly males aside, I'm improving on adverts! The last time I did scams [layout plus copy (the words) of a print advertisment], only 3 out of 20 were good. This time, it's 9 out of 20; I'm stoked! Mmm, although honestly I don't think advertising's my cup of tea, it robs you of an actual life. I don't even put in the full hours like they do, til 5am in the morning, and I'm already feeling it.

And it was really really nice [yeah, I need to find a better replacement word] meeting the 3 darlings after work. Charm, Joy, Sel. Just chat, chat, chat. It's such company that makes a good day better. And thank you for the present, I love notebooks AND mandarin prints!

Flames to dust, lovers to friends, why do all good things come to an end.

Our favourite artist, our song of the year.

I don't want to know how things will be like in 8 months time. Maybe there wouldn't be that 4th year. I wouldn't be around for his 22nd, he wouldn't be around for my 20th. Numbers. Just like how the days are right now. Numbered.

32 more weekends. Maybe 32 more weekdays. 2 months is too little.

I dug up colorsplash photographs from August last year. I thought that day was bliss.

Time honestly honestly flies when I'm working. It seems like just yesterday that I felt like taking the day off [and doing without my $10 pay] in order to skip the Monday blues. And it's already Friday today. Or rather, Saturday has come.

The week's been good. Lots of late nights, and the team stayed up overnight last night to do up a newsletter. I was really impressed. Everyone started groaning at 7pm on Thursday when the copywriter called from a meeting to tell them to stay back cos of a last minute assignment. They started feeling stressed, went for dinner, had a few drinks. Had the briefing, split up the tasks, and started. All the way til this morning when I entered office at 9am. Whereby they had the second meeting with the client, brought back the newsletter for changes, and final submission at 6.30pm. Afterwhich the graphic designers still took time to 'clean up' their computer screens which was cluttered with thumbnails. Like, wtf just go home and sleep!

But work's taking it's toll. It's awful how I end so late, and how my eyes hurt after a day of staring at the computer screen. I spend my entire pay on cab fares and lunches and snacks and coffee. I need to do something non-sedentary cos I feel myself rotting away.

Mmm, and I blew money on the most beautiful, best fitting black cigarette pants I've ever tried on. [okay, to be honest that was the first pair I've ever tried] And I'm going to wear it with my leather biker jacket. And maybe with the red felt pumps I bought. So tremendously cute.

I need a part-time job. And I want to get back to painting!

This must be recorded lest I forget. [Although I really doubt so]

Creative Director looked at my three radio scripts, went 'very good very good' and sent them straight to submission desk.

And said, 'Wow Eileen, not bad, up and coming eh'.

I'm going to sleep really well tonight.

The mandatory post-birthday post.

Work made the big nineteenth [cos it's my last year as a teen] a tad bit dull. No major after-work plans in case of overtime.

I think it's psychological, but I assume I had immunity on my birthday. Work was good, I did headlines for Bintan Resorts and Mark lent me Kesselkramer which is fucking good. Hans Brinker Budget Hotel hoi hoi! And my mega cool shing! [cos they're a loud gold] slipons were wowed at. And of cos it just HAD to pour on my shings, whilst I battled the rain with my leopard print leather handle brolly [yes, I'm awfully proud of it] and got off one stop too early to waddle my way to the doctor's because I had indigestion.

Then the sweet people at Mr Thong's celebrated my birthday for me. I was melting inside. Like, ooooohhh so sweeeeett! I'm gushing. Mmm, then Macs with Dippy in the car cos it was still pouring.

Celebration's spread over a few weeks. No cake from the family cos everyone's on a diet, so Dippy and I are going to search for that perfect cupcake next week. And I've had a million 'birthday dinners', because I can't decide where I want the actual one with the family to be at.

The 12th [2nd celebration] was pretty screwed initially. It poured, and ruined whatever plans I had of al fresco dining at any of my favourite places. And Gold Class tickets for Blood Diamond was sold out, so I had to settle for the usual tickets at VivoCity. I'm not being biased here, but VivoCity really is claustrophobia-inducing, and I've done enough reading up on it to write a Shopping Directory introduction that I can tell you facts like; VivoCity Golden Village is Singappore's largest multiplex and houses 2,500 seats and 15 screens under its roof. It also has the widest 35mm screen in Asia and screens exclusive art films occasionally. Oh shoot me.

But Blood Diamond is fantastic. I think the first sign of a good movie is one that doesn't make you realise how much time has passed. And it was really poignant, one of those movies that punches you in the gut. It reminded me of Steinbeck's Pearl, Island of the Blue Dolphins.. Flaubert's Madame Bovary even. Greed, inherent good, love, life and death. It makes you aware. It makes you love more. It made me cry.

Dippy got me an advertising magazine and a Fisheye. I can't wait to use it at work on Monday; take photographs of the cargo lift landing and wooden crates. And then later in the week at my extended birthday celebration. [Yeah, I take forever to turn nineteen.]

And to all you darlings with your birthday wishes, thank you thank you thank you.
My resolution this year: Not to forget your birthdays.
Much more most love, Eileen.

Guess who's invited to a Garden Party at The Istana?
[No this is not some advertising gimmick.]

I need to find that Laura Ashley pink sprigged flower frock that I never wore, because it looked too mouldy. Like something Queen Elizabeth would wear at a garden party.

At Café Iguana last night with Becki and Jeremy, I remember going, ‘I feel like talking about work, but then again I’ve told you two everything before’.

So yes, my online audience.

Who: Eileen.

What: Is understudying a copywriter.

When: From now till end Febuary.

Where: At an advertising firm. [I’m not disclosing for confidentiality reasons; things there are coolly top secret; we’ve to have our thumbprint’s scanned before allowed access to the work area.]

Why: [This bit is going to be insanely long. I’d try to limit the gushing.]

1] I did two army adverts!! Okay, army propaganda letters, one with the JC boys from our batch will be receiving, and the other for the secondary school boys which is unconfirmed. Having a part to play in the production of an army advertisement’s one of my dream jobs.

2] VivoCity’s new shopping directory write-up’s also done by me.

3] So’s part of the write up for Tourism Thailand.

4] And a pitch.

5] As well as the branding for a new product.

6] The men there are tremendously cute. Not in the Dippy manner, but in the oh my tellytubbies manner.

7] And the women really sweet; there’s a Betty who reminds me of Archie’s Betty.

8] Prawn mee near the workplace is sooo good. And it’s only $2 for a really decent serving.

9] Relatively slack dressing.

10] Orgasmic collection of design / photography / picture books. They even have a pop-up version of Alice in Wonderland. I’m dying to start with the borrowing.

11] Cool location. It’s around an industrial area so there’s forklifts and wooden crates and whatnots around, and it’s a little construction site-ish.

Granted, the pay isn’t anywhere near good – I’m only getting about $1 per hour from 9am to 6pm, and I work for free after 6pm. But hell, I’m pretty much having the time of my life here, even if my writings do get rejected occasionally.

It’s Hello Nineteen in four days time, and I feel old. My last year as a teen. And I’ve figured I’m the worst kind of drunk you’d ever want to know; I’m your little nightmare, the type who’s giggly and excited and basically a hugeass bimbo.

Oh, and I passed my basic theory for driving!

The four little boys at Marina South.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Silence. Time check, 11:55. Repeated numerous times until 00:00.

Fireworks display starts.
Wah, wah, waaaahh, wah, wah... Shiny, shiny, shiny, shiny, shiny...
Broken tape recorder. Over and over and over and over. Even when there's a slight break in the display.
Little Malay boy's mother: 'Eh, you're not in sync.'

And at the end.
Bye bye.
Waves exchanged between little Malay boy and little Chinese boy.

So endearing I tell you.

I remember telling Kenneth I wanted to work with the department that did army advertisments. And he crushed my lil bubble by telling me that actual advertising agencies were engaged to do those [fine, that thought never crossed my mind].

Anyway, I'm where I want to be; I'm interning at the advertising firm that did previous army advertisments, as well as this year's. I'm.. on a helium high. [!!!!]

The interview / briefing was rather embarrassing. I lost my cool the moment I went 'I'm reeeaaaally excited that your firm has been doing army advertisments, cos I lurrrrvee them', and then proceded to ramble and rave [okay, maybe 'slobber' would be more apt]. And I only stopped / trailed off when I realised I was leaning across half the table. Well, my first good impression.

First day's 3rd January. Big boss's pretty no-nonsense. And we all know I'm the exact opposite. I hope things go good.

Langkawi was a total holiday, minus the bikini. I feel really cheated when comparing this trip to Mawai.

Anyway, photographs of the gingerbread men and fruit cake my mum and I made today - any takers?

And two of my favourite photographs taken at Langkawi; I was actually surprised Lumix still worked its lil wonders.

*note to self: Cameron roll 2 still at developers'. Remember to collect / deposit Langkawi roll 1.

Gingerbread men.

And fruitcake.

Batik.

Beach.

I am Miss Malaysia this month.

3rd Dec: Johore
5th - 8th Dec: Cameron Highlands
13th Dec: Johore
14th - 19th Dec: Langkawi
26th - 29th Dec: Kuala Lumpur

According to the weather report, it's going to rain all 5 days that I'd be in Langkawi. That means my yellow waterproof camera will come in terribly handy, and I'd have all the rainy shots that no one else will have. That also means the 7 Wells trek will be slippery and muddy, and I've no deathwish. And what's with ghost tsunami sightings and a cable car that will be possibly swaying like a drunk doing a pole dance.

I'm just assuming there'd be cheap and good seafood - and I'm not checking any touristy site for that cos I don't want to be disappointed - if I have to be. And please, let Nadia's Inn be clean and comfy, and no bunk beds.

I'm having too much fun in my new room to leave just yet. You know, the whole extreme comfort zone thing.

Just the tiniest bit of photographs because I'm lazy. And I'm waiting for all the Cameron / KL photographers to post their photographs up because mine are mostly scenic shots.

Teasers below.

You know, the typical Eileen photograph.

Mt Beremban.

Tea ceremony.

The terribly suave bro who was the centre of attraction the entire night, all thanks to me, his wardrobe consultant.

Dad and mum.

Our alloted space in the shoe cabinet's alike our height; my bro gets the topmost shelf and I get the lowest one.

I'm in heels, and he's slouching. And my mum's godmum thought he was in JC and that I was in secondary school. The horrors.

I'm back from Cameron!

Let me see; freezing mornings / heavenly prata and masala tea / sedap steamboat / Mt Beremban / attack of the strawberries / ramly burgers / internet cafes / calling cards / long walks / photographs photographs photographs / Ben's birthday / boyfriend talks / Basic Cantonese 101 / KL / Alex's sweet dad.

And I returned to a new room, one with white built-in cupboards / table tops, non-firehazard window grills and a new coat of paint. Next few days will be spent packing everything in before Langkawi on Thursday.

So I hunt. And I'm sweet and awesome and smokin'. But no one chases me down the road screaming.

It's hard to sum Graduation Night up in a few words, but it does bring to mind Sinatra's 'and so the end is near and so I face the final curtain', and of course Miss Narinda and the Sinatra Doctrine.

I didn't exactly get things 'my way' in CJ, with Bro Paul getting me to remove my braids during the first week in school, and him telling me to 'snip off that horrible rat tail' if I wanted to stay on. And I didn't get into tennis, neither did I ever complete a whole History paper [sadly, it was still the case during the A's].

But hell, I'm glad I went to CJ and not elsewhere like ANU's fashion design.

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Darlings, the prom night photographs are up, but Hello has been overfed and so 24 more have to be kept til tomorrow before I can next upload them. My apologies!

Also note the dying enthusiasm. Haha I uploaded them backwards.

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Dippy and I suntanned at Sentosa the next day. I got to have my brie cheese and turkey ham loaf from Delifrance so I was a happy belly. And Battle of the Wits [the Chinese movie starring Andy Lau as the undefeatable hero] is pretty good.

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And it was fab catching up with Dearie at Coffee Bean, then my favourite boys at Billy Bombers. They're still as full of shit as ever.

Haan: Sorry I'm late, I had something on.
Herman: You mean a hard on?

Well, some things never change.

Graham, 007 agent in disguise as a waiter. He does the best moonwalk imitation, and we SN girls thought he was the only decent male in class during the first day of school.

The subsequently crowned Prom King, Jared. And I suppose we all hope something blossoms with the missy.

Haan. On the first day of school he put on this fake Hongkonger accent and hung out with JJ [who looks like cheena boy], and all us SN girls were like 'damnit, China scholars in our class?!'.

Dhar, the leach burner.

Lester. You're still my Prom King! HAHA happy?

Mr and Mrs Loi, with Mr Loi's BEST buddies.

Chia. Her hair was like, 'volumizing fwoah', ultra cool!

Celeste. The ultra [alright, this sounds very sanitary pad-like, haha] sweet woman who volunteered to cut paper and bring me drinks when I was suffering with my A'level Art piece.

Shawn, dating back from Mr Thong's Science / Math tuition days. And his bro worked with my bro for some chicken rice presentation. Emphasizes Singapore's smallness.

Gabriel. Taken Alex-style. Haha it took me awhile to realise you just take the heads, darling!

Melvyn. Synonymous with Paul Frank boxers. Sorry, I mean boardshorts. And for winning an Ipod but being unable to collect it because he was too busy in the toilet.

All us girls.

And again.

Tessa and Mindy. Mindy's dressmaker stayed up to do her dress, talk about sweeet!

With Alex and Hafiz. Us Eastsiders.

I don't think we ever got a full class photo.

Pammy. She looked damn good.

The Zies, minus four.

I look tall for once.

Rachel 'Luscious Lips' Koh and Esther 'Poodle Hair' Ng. [Haha I'm sorry Esther, but Mich called me and told me you had poodle hair when she first heard about it]

Mindy.

With Mich and Dippy's darling cousin Elvin.

Sally. I don't ever see her in a dress.

Esther, your experimental shot.

Tessa and Esther. I like their outfits, makes me wish I wasn't so heck-carish about my prom dress.

This looks so cute lah

B&W.

Now you know why girls take forever to make decisions. We're camera whores.

Okay, so I fail miserably at imitating Rach's luscious lips.

Tessa. I <3 her dress and new hair.

Alicia. The businesswoman.

Manyan. She makes curls look busty.

Credit