I have come up with a very clever plan. I am brilliant!!
When I don’t have time to blog (like today, because I just came home from a morning photoshoot and now I’ve got to rush off to a meeting, and then I have a media event in the evening, followed by Xbox duty at night), I shall play cheat!
See, I have two years’ worth of blog posts dated 2004-2005 which I never migrated to WordPress because they’re scared of heights.
So they’re not in the archive, which means I can regurgitate selected old posts here because you probably haven’t read them (unless you’re one of those dear old friends of mine whom I forced to read my blog since I was about two years old).
Here’s the first one!
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The following post first appeared on Sheylara.com on March 23, 2004. It kind of explains why I am always “too busy to eat”.
Rules Of Living Bite Me
I hate this time of the day because it’s time to eat.
No, it has nothing to do with dieting so get off my back. It’s more the fact that I have just woken up and the only thing I feel like doing is parking myself in front of the computer till death do us part.
The only foil to my brilliantly concocted plans is that it’s time for lunch and there is nothing left in my snack basket. Plus I’m supposed to be on a health kick so I need to eat a balanced meal. Which leaves me the following attractive options:
1. Starve to death
2. Cook myself something
3. Take a walk to the nearby coffee shop
Option #1 is certainly out of the question since I have yet to marry Colin Farrell and I’m sure my being dead would place me at a severe disadvantage when going up against ladies in the calibre of Britney Speares and Kim Bordenave, who, incidentally, is the mother of Colin’s latest infant son.
Option #2 is only slightly more attractive because I can’t bring myself to cook healthy, balanced meals. Cooking should be an enjoyable process, meaning you have to cook what you’ll enjoy eating, meaning healthy food is out of the question since healthy food, by definition, sucks.
Option #3 is therefore, by default, the only viable option. Except have you seen the kind of food they sell at local coffee shops?
Char kway teow, fried chicken, Hainanese chicken rice, laksa, fried carrot cake. What is up with Singapore? Nowhere (within 100 metres from my place) can I buy a proper meal containing all the essential food groups in the correct proportions as endorsed ad nauseum by the National Kidney Foundation.
So, the only thing I can do is blog and conveniently forget that I have to eat.
Actually, I have a hidden agenda. You may think I have something against eating, which I really don’t because I love bah kua. But, today, the point in my eloquent tirade is that I want to rebel against the Rules of Living.
Why must it always be the same every day?
Sleep. Get woken up by alarm clock. Wake up. Brush teeth. Shower. Eat breakfast. Get to work/Attach mouse and keyboard to self.
I get so sick of doing the same thing every day that I sometimes mix up the order in a creative frenzy. Hence:
Get woken up by alarm clock. Sleep for four more hours. Wake up. Get to work/Attach mouse and keyboard to self. Eat breakfast (lunch? dinner?). Brush teeth.
With all that shuffling around, I sometimes manage to deceive myself into thinking that I have successfully beaten the system. Rules of Living bite me!
If you’re pretty astute, you would realise that I am still horribly IN the system. I am still bound by the Rules of Living because I still have to eat and sleep and shower and work or play and all the rest of it.
Shuffling the order around is SO not changing anything.
You may say I have a choice. I can choose not to eat. I can choose not to shower. I can choose not to work. However, if I did that, I would soon find myself bound by the Rules of Death, instead. Don’t ask me how one can die by not brushing one’s teeth. Use your imagination.
And I can be quite sure that, wherever you are, whether in the land of the living or the dead, you’ll be equally bound by rules anyway, so what’s the point of dying?
Right. By now, I have managed to tickle the Rules of Living a little by typing out this little ditty instead of getting lunch and my gastric is foaming at the mouth (assuming it has a mouth, which it doesn’t, but just pretend anyway) and my stomach is protesting the foam.
Which leaves me only one thing to do. I need to get a new lipstick colour.