Yours Truly

My photo
is behind you.
I am a confused, dangerous little girl. And I bite. Fear me.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Thought of the Day #13

“Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections.”

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Thought of the Day #12

I love Kuching. :D

i realised it on the flight back, when they were playing this advertisement on the tiny screen about sarawak and kuching and they showed the sungai sarawak, those cat statues in town, india street, angmohs staring at these places... and i suddenly felt so proud because i knew these places and i actually wanted to cry.

(that may or may not have been due to the depressing music i was listening to.)

i'll definitely come back to this place one day.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

me and my daddy

I was such a self-sacrificial child.

Today at dinner, as I attacked my dad who was sitting down from the back, I realised his ears were super cold, and I suddenly remembered a memory of when I was a super young kid, when we went to China during Winter.

Dad had put me on his shoulders and I had taken off my gloves to eat those crystallised fruits on a stick and after I finished it and started messing with dad's head, I realised his ears were cold cos he didn't have ear mittens. I immediately covered his ears with my hands so that his ears would be warm cos I was scared if it gets too cold his ears would fall off. D:

So I let my hands freeze to warm my da's ears.

...I could star in some heroic drama. ahahahahah! xD

Thursday, March 24, 2011


Just Some Doodles on the Wall
© Christine Ling, 2011

“Zoe! Where are you? It’s time for dinner!” I heard my mother calling me. Startled, I dropped my Razzle Dazzle Rose Crayola crayon on the floor and looked around nervously to check that my mother wasn’t anywhere in vicinity. After making sure that yes, she was indeed in the kitchen downstairs, I quickly hopped over my fallen crayon and ran for the bathroom to wash my hands clean.

“I’m coming!” I called back, my voice a few notes higher than usual as I scrambled for the sink.

“I hope you weren’t drawing on the walls again, Zoe...”

I glanced over my shoulder to see some Burnt Orange stickman figures and Cotton Candy trees on my bedroom wall. Freshly bloomed Blizzard Blue flowers dotted the trees. I scrubbed a Fuzzy Wuzzy smudge off my cheek with some soap and toothpaste. “Of course not, mama!”

I could hear my mum sigh and her light footsteps as she ascended our parquet stairs. Oh no! I quickly scrubbed the remaining smudge (bad Fuzzy Wuzzy crayon!) off and ran out to meet her with my best and most innocent smile. I even tiptoed and fluttered my eyelashes at her. “Hi mama!”

“Oh my... Did you eat something sour?” my mother asked me, recoiling slightly from the sight of my bright smile. My smile faltered. I began to frown, thinking back. Did I eat something sour...? What had I been chewing on for the last few minutes? It wasn’t my Magic Mint crayon...was it? No, no, that’s not sour... I was so absorbed in my thinking that I didn’t notice my mother making her way towards my room until she was two steps away from the door.

I screamed in panic. My mother jumped. And then she whirled around. “What’s wrong?!” she asked, her voice filled with anxiety, probably thinking that I had been attacked by a wild bird. Then she looked at me and realised that her daughter was still quite alive and had not been devoured by some wild bird. She frowned at me.

“A wild bird that looked like a turkey just flew in and I screamed to scare it off,” I told her, giving her my best wide-eyed expression. “I think I should have gotten an award for that.”

My mother shook her head and sighed, as if wild birds that looked like turkeys and could fly didn’t exist.

“I can already see it in the newspaper! ‘Zoe Lin, aged 7, professional wild bird fighter’!” I yelled excitedly. My mother gazed at me sadly, her expression resigned. She sighed and made her way back down. “Come and eat, dear.”

“Okay!” I chirped, happy that my mother had forgotten about my room. I thundered down the stairs, past all my scribbles and interconnecting lines that ran down the wall of the stairs with me and barrelled into my sister, who was already in the kitchen. I grinned sheepishly at her and took my place, just like any other good 7-year-old girl would.


I stood with arms akimbo as I regarded my bedroom walls proudly. My drawings stretched from the corners at the bottom of the walls until the highest height my arm could reach (which was about the height of my bed!). I twiddled my Mountain Meadow crayon in my fingers happily and promptly snuggled into a giant floor pillow, surrounded by my Crayola crayons and some doodles on the walls.


When I woke up, the sky was purple. It had about 4 different shades of purple. Fuschia dominated most of it while it faded off into my Razzle Dazzle Rose crayon colour. I was confused. Usually skies were Sky Blue in colour. I stood up, and found myself on a long road which dipped down low and rose up high with multiple swirls and curves in it. The sides were a Screamin’ Green. Little Cotton Candy trees lined the right side, while Sunglow flowers were sprinkled in the Sunset Orange grass. Birds that looked like turkeys flew overhead, their feathers a Robin’s Egg Blue. A lone feather fluttered down and I swiped at it excitedly. As my fist closed around the feather, it suddenly lengthened and I found myself holding a Robin’s Egg Blue feather the size of a sword!

“I’M A NINJA!” I yelled and brandished my feather. I heard a soft cough. Turning to glare at the offending sound, I saw a Denim-coloured worm, looking at me strangely. It coughed again.

“You’re blue. Why aren’t you a caterpillar?” I asked the worm bluntly.

“The same reason why you’re not a ninja,” the worm replied, its voice sounding very weak yet cynical. I frowned.

“I am a ninja.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am you oversized blue not-caterpillar-worm!”

The worm sighed. “As you wish. But do beware of the flaming flamingos up ahead. It’s been a hot day; look at the sky.”

I looked. To my surprise, it was no longer purple. Instead, it was a light shade of green, almost like my Granny Smith Apple crayon. I turned to the worm, wanting to point out my amazing discovery of the changing skies, but the worm was gone. I scowled. “Bet I can beat his disappearing speed, ‘cos I’m a ninja,” I muttered. “Hmph.” I turned my nose up, and continued on my way.

I had just passed some Burnt Orange stick figures dancing around a Razzmatazz fire when I saw the flaming flamingos. They wore crowns of Blush dandelions on their heads, the dandelions seeds spiralling up into the air, only to catch on fire, fade into dust and ashes, and reform on the crown. It was a continuous, instant cycle. They had long flaming wings with swirling, delicate looking feathers the colour of Cerise, while the feathers on their bodies were a startling, burning White. The air shimmered before them as they took light, small steps with their long Tickle Me Pink legs.

I stood, transfixed, watching them leave trails of flames in their wake that flickered between orange and black. Suddenly feeling light-headed, I realised I had stopped breathing for the past few seconds and immediately drew in a deep breath. Instantly, all the heads of the flaming flamingos twisted towards me, their intelligent black eyes piercing my skull. I could see the reflection of their flames gleaming in their eyes. The heat emitting from them was beginning to sear my blue sword feather and I felt very, very scared.

Just as the flamingo right in front of the flock took a step towards me, I suddenly felt cool air blow around me and I smelled a familiar scent of fresh dew on grass in a green, green meadow. It was a scent I remembered since I was three. The flaming flamingos recoiled as a figure formed in front of me. They screeched and stretched out their wings abruptly, and I felt gushes of hot wind rush past me, scorching some of the Cotton Candy trees behind.

“Leave her,” said the voice in front of me. The flamingos reared their heads and I felt a consciousness tug at my mind. “Why?” it asked, “Why ssshould we?”

A chill ran down my spine as I realised this was how the flamingos communicated.

“She has done no harm and she will do no harm.” The man in front of me said. I titled my head sideways, certain that I had seen his figure somewhere before. I felt reassured, here behind him with the scent of the meadow drifting around and masking the smell of burning flames. He wore some kind of scarf, where the ends were constantly shifting and waving to an invisible breeze. Branches, flowers, birds, leaves… It looked magical.

“Howw can you be ssso sssure?” the voice inside my head hissed, and I felt a sharp pain through my head. I gave a cry and flinched.

“I said to leave her!” he yelled, and a gush of cold, icy wind blew past and into the flamingos, causing them to stumble back. They hissed and fumed, their feathers bristling and their fires disappearing as steam, but they retreated.

“We’ll remember thisss, Zachary… We do not forrget.”

He laughed heartily as he waved them goodbye, suddenly jovial. “Well, yeah, see you on my birthday!” The flamingos hissed one more time and they were gone. Zachary gave a single nod and turned around to face me. His brown eyes looked familiar, as did his shock of black hair. He kneeled down to my height and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Are you okay, Zoe?”

I nodded my head. “How do you know my name?”

He laughed. “Trade secret. I’ll tell you when you’re my age!”

“How old are you?” I asked him suspiciously.

“I’m seventeen,” he grinned, and ruffled my hair. A sense of nostalgia washed over me and I frowned at him.

“That’s my sister’s age!”

His smile stretched. “Oh, really now? That’s cool.”

He seemed really suspicious now. I rubbed my chin and told him so. He laughed and laughed, his scarf shifting into ribbons and feathers and roses. “Why do you have such a…a…a…weird scarf?” I asked him. “It’s so…”

“Flamboyant?” he asked, shrugging good-naturedly.

“Whassat word mean.”

“Um, loud, colourful, flashy, oh-look-at-me-I-want-attention, showy?”

“Yes! That’s the word,” I said haughtily. “I knew that. Yep.”

“Heh,” he snorted. “Of course you did.”

I sulked. It’s not fun being seven when no one took you seriously. I kicked his foot. “I did!” I grumbled.

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, holding his palms up. “I surrender! I wave my white flag.”

“Hmph,” I said, turning the other way and crossing my arms. But secretly I was very pleased. After a short while, I turned back to him. “You can be my big brother.”

He looked stunned. “What?”

“You can be my big brother,” I repeated. He stared at me.


I gave him my best you-are-an-idiot stare. “Because I say so. So now you must be my big brother!”

He smiled slowly. “I would like that, Zoe.”

I beamed at him, satisfied. He was already doing a great big brother job! “Okay, now you must bring me around and show me pretty things.”

“Okay, little one! Up you go!” He picked me up and placed me on his shoulders and jumped off the road. I screamed and swung my arms around his whole head while he laughed. We landed on something soft, and when I dared open my eyes, I saw that we were in the sky. Staring in wonder at the soft fluffy clouds we stood on, I reached out my hand to grasp a piece of cloud. It broke off easily, pulsing gently in my hand. He then coolly walked on, tendrils of cloud swirling lazily before him to form a new pathway and he led me to a crescent moon, where a little boy sat on its edge, holding a fishing rod. He wore boots like Puss in Boots and he was forever blurred. I couldn’t see how he really looked like—he and his surroundings were constantly shimmering, and I could only really see him from the corners of my eyes.

“Howdy, Zach,” the boy greeted my friend.

“Hallo, Dreamworks. Caught any new ideas?”

“Not yet, but I’m almost there. It’s been swimming around my bait for a while now. Something to do with a green ogre and a donkey…”

“Sounds crazy, but good luck! This is my little sister, by the way.”

“Hi,” I said shyly.

“She’s usually noisier than that,” Zachary said. “But we best be on our way! See you.”

And Zachary was on the move again. He took me to see the sun, where bubbles full of sunbeams floated around. He took me to see the stars, where I met more of his friends that glittered and sparkled whose hairs were dark green and blue and purple at the same time. He took me to see the machinery and clocks, where he told me all about the mechanism of time and I was filled with the lovely sound of the clinks and ticks and kerchunks as memories were recorded. He was showing me the forest full of rainbow trees, some green and yellow and blue while others were red and orange and purple when a bird screeched and he suddenly stopped.

He put me down on the ground and looked at me solemnly. “It’s time for you to go back home.”

I stared at him, aghast. “But why must I!”

He looked at me sadly. “Because you don’t belong here, Zoe. You won’t belong here for a very, very long time.”

I felt hurt. I started to cry.

“Ah, don’t cry. It’s good, not to belong here,” Zachary said, giving me a big brotherly hug. “When you go back, could you do me a favour please?”

Sobbing, I nodded my head, because mama always taught me that no matter what, we should always help others. He smiled and pressed something into my hand. It felt cold against my skin. “Please, when you get back, please pass it to your mum. And tell her it wasn’t her fault. Could you do that for me, Zoe?” I nodded, and rubbed my running nose against my sleeve. He ruffled my hair affectionately and took my hand as he walked me towards a river I hadn’t notice before. He placed me in a small boat, with ribbons on the front, and pushed the boat out.

“Zoe, I’ll always be here, watching over you, okay? So don’t cry anymore,” he said. “And remember, I will always—“

I strained to hear his last words, but it was no use. He was already disappearing from my sight. I started to cry again and I curled up into a ball in the boat, and I fell asleep.


“Zoe! Zoe, wake up!”

I opened my eyes groggily to see my mother staring at me crossly, her hands on her hips. “Zoe, what did I say about drawing on the walls?”

I looked at my walls and was surprised. I didn’t remember drawing that much. A Cerise flamingo flapping its wings was on a wavy, Electric Lime rollercoaster and a Denim worm reading a book was under the road. Gentle Periwinkle clouds dotted my walls, and the blue-green-yellow trees grew everywhere in a corner. But the one that stood out the most to me was a black scarf, its ends spiralling into branches and leaves of different colours. I smiled happily and turned back to my mother.

“Ma, I have a brother,” I told her dreamily. “I saw him.”

“What?” She looked stunned, and I was reminded of his first reaction.

“He looks just like you,” I said. My mother stared at me. Something cold was still in my hand, so I took my mother’s hand and placed it inside it. “He says that it’s not your fault. I love you, mummy.” I still felt so sleepy.

“I wish I had a big brother…” I whispered, my consciousness already fading as I snuggled back into my floor pillow. “His name would be Zachary.” I heard my mother gasp, and I fell asleep.

My mother stared at me snoring gently and slowly looked at her hand. In it was a locket, the locket, and engraved on it was three words. “Your son, always.

She crumpled to the floor, and cried, as the scent of fresh dew on grass in a green, green meadow filled the room.

(2,588 words)

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Thought of the Day #11

I'd be able to help everyone then. (:

Sunday, March 13, 2011

My teacher called it entertainment

She said my voice is like Minnie Mouse's and it amuses her when I speak. D:


Saturday, March 12, 2011


I have this bruise on my right wrist and I don't know where it came from. No one grabbed me during prefects' camp, right...? O:

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

To You,

Please don't ever be ashamed to be who you really are!

Monday, March 7, 2011

Thought of the Day #10

When I hear somebody sigh, "Life is hard," I am always tempted to ask, "Compared to what?"

- Sydney J. Harris

Sunday, March 6, 2011

yes i'm still sick D:

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Thought of the Day #9


Thought of the Day #8

Headaches really make your head ache. D:

Friday, March 4, 2011


I HAVE FB LIKES ON MY POSTS NOW! eheheeehehehehehheheheehee!! xD

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Thought of the Day #7

EYEBAGS!!!!! OOOO: wahahahahahhahaahahah! xD

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

A Young Me

When I was a small girl, around maybe 6 years of age, I was addicted to Shandy.

I kid you not. At first my parents thought it was cute to see me sipping on a whole tin of Shandy by myself and hiccuping happily here and there, but as the weeks went by my parents began to worry, seeing me chugging down the whole can with a swagger like a pro. "Oh no," they thought. "Our little girl is going to grow up to be an alcoholic!!"

So they tried hiding it. They placed all the tins of Shandy on the very top compartment of the fridge, where I could see it if I tiptoed but could not reach it, even when I stood on a high chair and flailed my tiny arms at the tins. They never did budge.

I was completely devastated. I cried, I screamed, I kicked, I bit, I did everything to cause pain to my parents and their tormented souls. How could they do this to me! Finally, my parents decided to give me just one tin, just one, to pacify me.

I then proceeded to a small, dark corner where I huddled in, facing inwards, sipping on my Shandy like a very shady little 6-year-old. It was a happy day.

Look at me now though, the only alcohol I take is the red wine found in dishes like my Foochow mee sua!! Ah heaven♥ I can't even drink Shandy anymore. Hahaha!

Happy Birthday my cousin, Alex, who only started drinking Shandy what--4 years ago?? Hahaha u can finally buy ur own beer (: happy evenmorelegal day!