Troubled Addendum
There really is nothing a bout of old school shopping can’t fix, that $$$ can’t buy and truly, the Metro warehouse sale @Expo made me feel like a champ again. 2 jackets, 1 top (all from Additions/Celiana), 1 pair of leather boots and another pair of leather heels (all from Pierre Cardin), $225 poorer in the name of saving $254, I was the happy accomplished auntie shopper who, after elegantly and expertly shoving away what was screened and scorned, swooped, scavenged and swept away all the one of a kind items. Ahhh, victory is sweet, even if i have to savour it alone.
*
What does being vulnerable mean?
Beautante says it’s good that I, we (she and I), are self-assured creatures.
Hwee declares I have pent-up resentment towards He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named (so Harry Potter), otherwise known as Mr Veins. And drawing inspiration from her observation, my psychoanalytical take on me is that so all puffed up and blown out of proportion is my angst that it became the armour from which writings are infused with intrinsic bitterness and I so need to let go of my resentment for the vulnerability to emerge and for my writing, as far as lyrics are concerned, to have the breakthrough and my long overdue big break.
Best Friend remembers my distressing moment of weakness, when it was (mis)directed at someone else and never Mr Veins. But tears were shed only because someone was indignant and angered by her own vanity and judgment. Perhaps I was wrong.
PJ’s well-meaning remarks – that I should give his junior (ie Mr Veins) a proper burial or I should resurrect him – are utterly useless because I will never contact him. And he, without following the twisted tale, said quite unnecessarily that he doesn’t comprehend why I’m playing hard to get and 吊起来卖 – but it’s really a 无Mr Veins问津 sort of situation and I simply refuse to hang myself anymore. We got quite exasperated at each other at this point in time on msn no less.
Is there any vulnerable memory of me that you hold?
*
What does being vulnerable mean?
Beautante says it’s good that I, we (she and I), are self-assured creatures.
Hwee declares I have pent-up resentment towards He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named (so Harry Potter), otherwise known as Mr Veins. And drawing inspiration from her observation, my psychoanalytical take on me is that so all puffed up and blown out of proportion is my angst that it became the armour from which writings are infused with intrinsic bitterness and I so need to let go of my resentment for the vulnerability to emerge and for my writing, as far as lyrics are concerned, to have the breakthrough and my long overdue big break.
Best Friend remembers my distressing moment of weakness, when it was (mis)directed at someone else and never Mr Veins. But tears were shed only because someone was indignant and angered by her own vanity and judgment. Perhaps I was wrong.
PJ’s well-meaning remarks – that I should give his junior (ie Mr Veins) a proper burial or I should resurrect him – are utterly useless because I will never contact him. And he, without following the twisted tale, said quite unnecessarily that he doesn’t comprehend why I’m playing hard to get and 吊起来卖 – but it’s really a 无Mr Veins问津 sort of situation and I simply refuse to hang myself anymore. We got quite exasperated at each other at this point in time on msn no less.
Is there any vulnerable memory of me that you hold?
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