JUST when I thought my day couldn't be ruined because Joss Stone is coming to Singapore, my colleague goes and does it again. He pissed me off.

Now I'm in such a mood. WhatsApp chats are making me laugh, but right after I set my phone down on the table I want to cry in anguish.

He actually said to me that he wouldn't want this lady even if she gave herself to him for free in reply to her saying, "Uncle, don't stand so close to me."

His reason is first and foremost not because he's married, but because she is "so fat, double your size!" (The 'your' is referring to me.)

Sizeist bigot. Yeah, he's racist too. We have a Malay part-timer from time-to-time, and my colleague always keeps his wallet in his pocket (usually it's sitting on a rack on our shared desk) when the part-timer is working.

Now, it may seem like I'm jumping to conclusions, but my colleague actually told me: "I must keep my wallet when he's working. Cannot trust him."

I asked, "Why not?"

And my colleague shook his head as if in resignation. "These Malay guys ah, you never know if he got steal money. Better to be safe than sorry."

My first day working here, he told me to look after his wallet; he can trust me. In my head, I thought, "Why does he trust me? He just met me. What is he basing this trust on?"

Then I got my answer, and now he reveals he's a sizeist, too. It's not enough that he makes subtle comments or jokes about weight/my weight, but he had to call me fat yesterday, and insult two other women within the span of two days.

He is never getting off my shit list. Right now the only way he could get off it would be to donate his heart to my long-gone grandmother in the grave. Or sincerely apologize and never repeat his mistakes. That'll work. But the former has a higher possibility, I bet.

Why are the heavens so good to me?

Yesterday started out horribly when my colleague unknowingly pissed me off by calling me fat, then insulting a coworker behind her back.

The only reason "MANSLAUGHTER IN UBI" didn't appear on your local news is because of a bunch of funny people on my WhatsApp chats who made light of the situation and calmed me down (with bitching).

Gotta love bitching.

My mood was considerably cheered up after work, and while I was on my way in the train to meet two friends for dinner, one of them sent this message:

Me, freaking out

After the customary freaking-out, I told him not to joke about it, and he bet $10 that it's the truth.

Now, my group of friends and I don't bet on stuff carelessly, as we are very cost-conscious. So I believed him.

These two friends of mine started walking fast away from me when I met them and couldn't stop laughing hysterically after verifying the news. I guess it was kinda creepy.

Now I'm conflicted over whether to declare yesterday one of the best days of the year so far. Maybe it's safest to call it one of the best nights?

If the gig gets cancelled you just know I'll cry for weeks.

Anxiety

I can barely stand still as the webpage takes its time loading. The Java bar is slowly filling up with a flashing blue, and my heart pounds faster.

There is an ache spreading throughout my stomach. It may be the butterflies, or just plain need for defecation (the time now is post-lunch).

At last! The page loads and I see an abundance of black-ringed circles, interspersed with yellow-ringed ones. Carefully I select two circles, and click Proceed.

My patience is rewarded with a page full of empty bars to fill up. Information is entered, and I carry on to the next step.

Processing takes place, and I am prompted to type in some more numbers.

Now, I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The stupid server times out and I have to do everything all over again.

So I do.

And wait.

The page refreshes itself, and I am now the proud owner of two Ellie Goulding concert tickets.

Well, co-owner.

Okay, technically, my friend Gladys paid first, so I...own nothing.

Still! Internet transactions amaze me. Cold, hard cash is now an option, not a necessity. Who'd have known we'd come this far?

In the words of Lloyd Dobler from the film Say Anything: "Why can't you be in a good mood? How hard is it to decide to be in a good mood and be in a good mood once in a while?"

Honestly. Some people are just so adamant to feel bad for themselves that they can't be happy in whatever they do. I know you feel like you're stuck, but lots more people are in far worse situations than yours - I'm not even talking about third world countries - so if you just changed your perspective at least for a little while, you wouldn't be in this depressing funk.

I always admonish myself when I sink into a mood, because I know it's entirely up to me to feel happy. Of course, I'm talking about mood swings, not the sadness that ensues when something bad happens. Mood swings are caused by no reason in particular except the universe hates you, so I try to get it lifted as soon as I realize I'm in a mood. Sometimes I'll let it simmer for a while until I want to slap myself for feeling so much self-pity. It's way too indulgent.

Listen to some Bob Marley or world music; it always makes me feel better.

Overdrive

Seriously, my subconscious has got to stop all this dreaming. It's making me so tired in the mornings and I keep mixing up reality with my dreams, like I always do.

Now it's an abundance of sudden awakenings throughout the day where I go, "Oh my god, that was a dream! I didn't eat an entire tub of Ben & Jerry's!" or "Oh my god I didn't work another weekend at our already-closed-for-years Capitol branch!"

I can't remember what I dreamt about this morning, but I'm sure I'll remember it later and have a revelation all over again.

Had fun meeting up with Huzaifah (and Hayley) after such a long time! He bought a douchebag T-shirt from Uniqlo that said: I AM THE ONE. Alex (ran into him at HMV!) declared it the most egotistical shirt he'd ever seen. Frankly, I've seen worse.

Now that my classes have ended until January, my schedule is looking pretty free after work on weekdays. Weekends, however, I'm fully booked by Gramophone. Yes, I'm a slave. To money. People keep suggesting for me to find a sugar daddy, but I don't see anyone recommending any actual ones, so where am I supposed to find them?

[I'm just kidding. I don't really want a sugar daddy. How about a sugar appropriately-aged boyfriend?]

Now the song "Sugar, Sugar" is in my head. I'm really loving oldies these days. Heard "Soul Man" on 90.5FM yesterday while running errands with Uncle Richard (well, he ran errands, I sat in the lorry waiting) and I almost went nuts. And then there was The Beatles' "I'm Happy Just To Dance With You." In the style of Chandler, could that station be any more awesome!?

Sometimes I feel like not going to poly or university made me more distant from my friends. They can talk about their poly/uni camp/orientation experiences, while I'm just, "Wow. Cool. Haha! Nice."

Don't get me wrong, I mean every word I said - those weren't empty wows; but at times I just feel like I'd be able to contribute more to the conversation if I'd gone to poly or university.

I feel so helpless when a friend needs ideas for orientation camps or parties or games and I have no idea what the norm is like for these things. I can't even begin to suggest a theme because I don't know how it's supposed to be! Are there a lot of people involved? Do they have a budget for this? What is the purpose of this?

Of course, I know that as long as I have my imagination, I can easily solve all these problems, but I just like self-pity, okay?

Sometimes

I'm in mortal hell.

Okay that's a little too harsh, seeming as how lots of people are in the midst of an actual war, or starving to death, or stuck in slavery, etc. But sometimes that's just how I feel.

It's probably the time of the month again, but tonight has been such an emotional roller coaster. Except it didn't go up that high, and somehow plummeted through the earth with a resounding thud.

Returned home feeling proud of myself, 'cause I got an A for my basic Economics class test. I know, not a superhuman feat since it's just basic, but let's just assume that I am a douchebag who likes to brag. I'd even taken a photo of the results (we weren't allowed to bring the papers home) just to prove to my mom that my late-night studying sessions at Starbucks were worth it.

What I didn't realize was that my mom had been feeling pissed off for reasons I'll explain soon. Being the dumbass that I am, I dived right into the volcano and showed her the picture of my A, blabbering about how awesome her daughter (me) was.

She gave me a somber look and said, "40/50? So you failed by 10 marks?" Now, I've been her daughter long enough to know that she meant "You lost 10 marks?" so I replied, "Well, yeah but 40 is A! That's good!"

Another solemn stare. "Ma, you know that this means I got 80 over 100, right?" Back in my primary/secondary school days, she could only comprehend results over 100, anything other than that constitutes a fail or doesn't count to her. So I'd always gave her the equivalent.

"Yes, so that means you didn't do your best or didn't try hard enough to get the full 50."

Ouch.

Technically, that is true. But seriously, is that really what any person would want to hear from their supposedly unconditionally-loving mother?

I just honestly thought she'd be happy to know I wasn't wasting money gallivanting at school. Clearly, I was wrong.

[Later on I found out that she'd been angry with my dad because he'd lied to her about some 4D winnings and she couldn't expose him since she only found out through snooping while he was in the shower.]

That put me in an instant bad mood (which is such bad timing because I'd had a really good time with my classmates at school and everything) but I was still okay, since I was WhatsApping some friends of mine about an upcoming Disney movie outing.

Then one of my best friends started attacking me. (That's what it felt like, but I'm probably exaggerating.)

I guess it's my bad habit of always correcting people's grammar/spelling/vocabulary that got me into hot soup. See, I'd just corrected her usage of 'phrase' and 'phase' last week, so in hindsight I should've held my tongue tonight. (I've come to realize that I can only correct the same person maybe, say, once every two or three weeks.) But to be fair, I wasn't even correcting her tonight. I only mentioned that I'd already said the same thing she was saying.

[It was something about tissues: I'd said I would bring three packs, then she replies minutes later - after a few other friends had said something else - that I should bring three because two wasn't gonna be enough for me. Naturally I replied, "I already said that just now, *insert name here*." I realize now that I should have added a smiley or LOL or something so that it wouldn't seem too preachy, but my finger pressed Send too fast and I figured it wouldn't hurt; usually she'd just retort something like "Oh I didn't see," or "Shut up," in a joking way. This time, however, she went, "Okay I didn't see clearly. Can you stop correcting me". I jokingly replied, "I wasn't correcting you, I was telling you I already said that!" At this point I realized how accusatory and judging I sounded, so I added a crying-laughing smiley to ease the tension. Then she said, "Can you just stop talking" So I thought she was in her usual kidding mood because that's the kind of thing she always says, and I gave her a cow emoticon with a moo, after the word "NO". And she replied, "I'm serious". Now I felt wary.
Two other friends even said, "Why so fierce, *insert name here*??" and a troubled smiley respectively.
To which *insert name here* said, "I'm sick of her always correcting people." I took offense at this and said, "But I wasn't even correcting you!" and she replied instantaneously, "Yeah you were TELLING me". I could feel her sarcasm seeping through to my phone. So I just said, "Whatever, I'm turning off my Wi-Fi now. Goodnight guys." and left.]

But she took offense and went after me. So I got annoyed and turned off the Wi-Fi connection on my phone.

Between this and my mother's lack of encouragement - which I highly expected and anticipated - I burst out crying in my room. I cried all the way to the shower, cried all the way during the shower, and cried all the way after the shower. My mother heard me crying and went ballistic because she thinks crying is an act reserved for her deathbed. I'm not kidding.

Some suicidal thoughts came into my mind, just like back in secondary school, but of course I'm not depressed enough to act on them. I just like to imagine how sad and guilty everyone would feel if I committed suicide. Petty revenge is a nice fantasy, but it's also extremely unhealthy and I don't recommend it; makes you feel even more like shit.

What you should do when you have suicidal thoughts is to listen to some music. Music that you love, that's not about death or killing or politics or lost loves. Listen to something that will help you get through the dark thoughts in your head. It doesn't have to be lovey-dovey romantic songs, or sunshine-y songs. Just songs that you have listened to your whole life, songs that you can recite the words right off of your head because you're so familiar with them, songs that make you go, "I can't die. They're right. Life sucks, but I must stand my ground and stay strong, I mustn't give up the fight, I'm worthy of life."

I didn't take my own advice, of course - who does? - but at some point in the night my mom realized her mistake at Parenting 101 and called out gently to me (I'd locked myself up in my room, bawling my tear ducts out), "Do you want to talk about your fight with *insert name here*? You can tell me." (She knows about the fight because I was crying about it in the shower; I didn't know she'd been standing nearby at the fridge.)

I sensed that she wanted to make up, so being the good daughter that I am, I went out, sat down on the sofa, and told her about the fight. Even provided the backstory, too.

She sympathized, but didn't understand why I had to cry over such a minuscule thing. I told her it was her lack of concern + the fight that led to the free salty water. (Maybe not free after all. Tears do come at a cost, don't you think? THE COST OF YOUR SANITY AND DIGNITY AND YOUR SOUL.)

I concluded it with this: It's probably that time of the month, Mom. Just live with it.

Guys, if you're reading this, periods don't cause women to go nuts like I did. Situations like these cause us to go nuts. But if we are getting our periods, we will go way nutsier. Usually in these scenarios I wouldn't have cried, but my mood definitely would have been dampened and unable to dry until the next day.

UPDATE: *Insert name here* has called to apologize, and I forgave her. I too apologized for not phrasing my first sentence better, in a way that couldn't offend anyone (that's kinda hard, though; not sure if I could've pulled it off). Mom has moved on to calling out helpful reminders for me to drink water so I don't shrivel up into a prune due to all the crying. And by 'helpful', I mean 'completely unheeded'.