A Day In The Life Of An Oblivious Ape.: October 2009

It's been a lot of weeks since the America's Next Top Model Cycle 12 season started, but I still can't get over this really amazing bit of coincidence.

Here we have Allison a.k.a baby doll brought to life:

And here why have my lovely niece (or cousin's daughter, if you want to get all technical about it), Ardini Qistina:

A more recent picture:

Granted, she's not top model material (at least, not just yet), but those eyes...the resemblance is truly uncanny.

Here's a more up-close comparison if you still can't see it.

Freaky huh?

I think I think better (pardon the over-usage) when I'm eating.

It's when you have that time alone to yourself, when you hands are on auto-pilot shovelling food into your pie-hole, that you really get to think deep thoughts.

Like how the guy sitting in front of you is putting his butt-crack up on a hairy display for all to see, free-of-charge.

Or how that baby boy sitting two tables across from you has the chubbiest cheeks you've ever seen that you'd want nothing more than to gnaw 'em right off.

Not the two best examples, I know.

Inspiration comes to me at 1 in the morning in sputtering bursts , like exhaust from a derelict jalopy.

But I digress.

So I was at Tang Tea House at Simpang Bedok today, contemplating the meaning of life itself (read Figuring Out Lunch Plans For Tomorrow).

Then somehow, my train of thought led me to this pseudo-epiphany:

Our music playlists mirror our life experiences, if not life itself.

DUN DUN DUN.

Think about it.

Remember when you started that playlist, way back when you were a young'un getting a hold of your first mp3 track?

You could tell; this was gonna be a start of whole new adventure.

So as you row, row, row your boat down the river of life, you hoard as well songs that seemed to speak to you,

Songs that seemed to echo your feelings;

Your very soul.

Then came along those bumps in your road;

Raging whirlpools of doom threatening to drown your very being;

Frightening thunderclouds poised to strike at any second.

They changed the course of your little raft, making it head down paths never before encountered - like listening songs that suited what you felt, songs that you think could make that pain go away.

Those songs - like your experiences - became a part of you too.

Over time, these raging waves ebbed, but not before leaving weathered scars on your travel-weary dingy. These scars - songs of angst and rage and resentment - they serve to remind you of mistakes past, and lessons learnt. You're a changed man, and those scars; they're a part of you now, part of your eternal playlist, and have made you into what you are now.

So you see, music isn't JUST music.

Not to me at least.

It's what I was, what I am, and what I want myself to be.

"Whoa, that's deep, dude." "Totally."

Wow.

It seems I've lost all semblance of readership on this page.

Not that I have a way of tracking it, though.

Or do I?

*cue evil maniacal laughter*

No, seriously, I don't.

What do I look like, a stalker?

Don't answer that.

Right, so here comes the part where I provide an explanation to you guys.

If any of you are actually here to read it, anyway.

If you are, you've probably been redirected by some fluke of the intarwebs, or you actually chanced upon my link from the homepages of many of my known associates.

I digress.

Either way, if you've actually been reading all the way up to this sentence, you have my utmost and unlimited gratitude from the depths of my oblivious-ity. Now you get a cookie.

FYI, it's a pretend cookie.

What, you never played tea party when you were kid?

Some childhood you have.

...

Yeanyways, I don't foresee myself doing much blogging for the remainder of this semester. My schedule's getting pretty packed, plus there's Sambateria taking away much of my time and attention (not that I'm complaining.).

So yeah, there you go.

Pretty weak huh?

Well, get me some blogging fodder and I'll get on with a proper post then, shall we?

Hmph.