Where were you while we were getting high?

I hear you. Stop whining. FINE fine I'll write...

Ahem.

Haven't done this for a while... Getting the jitters- Oh 'cmon be a man!

Alright.

First the disclaimer/user-warning/prologue:

You asked for it. Don't blame me if it's long and dry and phallic.

To all - I'm glad you stuck around. Otherwise I'd feel like an idiot posting such a long update to a dead audience. Existential dilemma, you see. My feeble sense of being is only validated by an audience's recognition. If you're reading this, you must really care about me, or be really bored. In that case, get a life ; alternatively, feel free to read on.

Here it is. The real deal. Enjoy.

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I've been reading other blogs to get/plagiarise an idea of how to go about this update. It didn't help, but at least I know now to avoid like the plague words like Good, Spankin', Boring, Revolutionary and that dreadfully overused Surreal to describe my life. Like seriously, don't blog if you can't write for nuts or don't have a life to write about.

My life has been nothing less than Godsend. Chocolate flavoured Godsend.

A levels is like the big bang of JC life ; when life starts. It rings true in all senses of the expression, because prehistoric pond bacteria was what I felt like when that epiphanic SPH rejection letter came crashing in my little cubicle on Earth. I was satisfied with my goals in life. They weren't small, but they weren't impossible. It is an understatement to say that I wanted that SPH scholarship quite badly, and had/would've slogged/schemed/slept (not necessarily in that same order or combination of verbs) my way into all 3 Editor positions in NJC. (I feel it apt at this point to declare that I did not have to foster sexual relations with anybody to get to those positions. It was far easier to kill off the other candidates.)

Not enough! Not for SPH, at least. After five minutes of mourning, I got over the fact that all I worked for those two years in JC came to naught. I knew then that I had been myopic, with a serious case of tunnel-vision. Certainly there were a million and one career options out there I should have considered... two years ago? I said to myself "Just chillax, will ya?", then promptly panicked and sent out a paranoid SOS-mail to Jeff, my friend/brother/mentor, asking for a panacea to life which was promptly bequeathed. Erm, not really. I just received (and still receive) alot of help because panaceas don't come by that often and he was out of stock. One day I will write a tribute to the amazing man.

Then Brandon and Ashish (and later Abby) came into the picture. All four of us had a vision (Bonus plus! Our names start with A B and C! How not to succeed?). We spent the month of December researching, meeting and planning and came up with a business plan which, surpassing and contradicting all expectations, calculations, predictions and what I read about my horoscope for the month, didn't work. It was, in all honesty and with no facetiousness, the pivotal month of my life. I think this is how entrepreneurship starts.

Recall that I used the metaphor of a Chocolate flavoured Godsend to convey the ecstatically divine yet atheistically secular nature of my life a few paragraphs back? I must apologise. It wasn't exactly accurate after all. There was a diamond studded gold platter to go with.

I was being a teenager that morning. You know their ilk, insoucient; lazing around at the class chalet; Jobless... for half the morning only. "Hey bro, got a job for you. Internship at an artiste management. They manage Utt, May and Choy, Jaymee Ong etc. Interested?" Jeff's sms made me teenager no longer. I was a giggling schoolgirl who can't believe her eyes.

Two weeks later, I was an artiste manager... intern.

To be continued...

[Now you know why I can't give an adequate answer when given the query "whatchabeenupto?" on MSN. If anyone's still reading, I have another two months worth of stories to tell.]