Chocolate OWL? :D

Dear Wizarding World,

I'm sure you misplaced my Hogwart's acceptance letter sometime on my eleventh birthday. I understand that these things happen, and, with your retro filing system, it's easy for an awesometastic witch like me to slip through the cracks. It's only to be expected.

BUT IT'S BEEN EIGHT DAMN YEARS.

And you know what? You can go shove your phallic symbols and rampant wand innuendos up your uptight arse. (I even went through the trouble of translating that into proper British for you- here I kid).

I'm at Reed. I lived in the Griffin Dorm (Gryffindor? NO! But it was awesome anyways. We got to paint our own damn great hall ceiling murals all over the walls. Well. Windows really.)

There's (doyle)owls and gargoyles and hidden doctor who jokes all around!

And pshts! Who wants chocolate frogs....when there's chocolate owls! (Thank you Shannon.)

I hope the stick waving does it for you.

'Cause there's a perfectly Dark Lordless glitter-fest over here. That is. If you want to see some real magic sometimes.

Living off of Instant Noodles.

Dear Instant Noodles,

YOU SO TASTY! D: Your noodle-ey appendage gives me life and sustenance. Without you, I am lost, hungry and afraid for my tv-drama marathons impact on my stomach/body/mind.

Breathe. Just Breathe.

Dear unknown force that governs the universe,

I don't know what you have planned, but I'm on to you.

If you think I didn't notice the attack squirrels, constant rain and freezing cold.....well! You're wrong.

If you think you're going to turn us into icy popsicles topped off with a light sprinkling of nutty goodness.... you have another thing coming!

Just you wait!

Feel me.

Dear you,

you know that feeling when you just close your eyes and feel your heart beating. and you imagine it on the palm of your hand, and think, that if, that should, that when you open it up- it'll come out hollow and empty, bleeding warmth, bleeding life. it's a good kind of wrong, a paralyzing helplessness that just leaves you at the mercy of the cruelty of the world; open, wide eyed and fearless all at once.

i love it. it feels like falling. like dying. like living.

like breaking my soul into a thousand little pieces so that imperfections, that cracks and splinters are just glittering dust.

like you're insignificant, and that's okay, cause the world's alright without you. cause everything is how it's supposed to be and it's alright to be nobody special. it's like when it's just about to rain, and you hear the pitter patter of the droplets crashing against the window pane. just tapping. as if to say, don't worry about it all, we're here for you, we'll drown you, we'll freeze the blood in your veins, stop your heart, and soon your brain and the rest will follow.

it's like the weight of the world's crushed you, left you curled up on the floor. finally at peace.

and that's all we need. a little peace.

a little piece of me in peace with myself.

and with the world screaming at you, schedules and time whizzing and whirring in spite of you, marching and trampling on all of you cares, it's hard enough to find that without stripping yourself down to the bare essentials.

a heart to feel it all. the good and bad. the sad, in the absence of happy. the happy in spite of the sad.

the rest will crumble with time; the body will fold to neglect and age, the mind will slow and dull despite whatever carefully crafted intelligence, i will lose sense of who i am...

but never what i feel. and that's enough.

Back to the rest of my Life

Dear Omnipotent Presence,

Last year, around this time, I found myself travelling to Reed. I came with family, a whole bag of expectations and my scattered wits. This year, I arrived with baggage and a deep-rooted tiredness.

I'm tired. Hollow. I know this feeling won't last.

But what will?

This uncertainty is killing me. I barely know who I am, let alone who I will be.

Yet, everything seems to hinge on this. My future, my present, my life is centered on plan after plan. Which is more economical? Which is the smart thing to do?

Sometimes I feel like I'm deeply flawed. Desperately missing something human.

Shouldn't I feel a calling? Sometimes I feel worthless, unworthy of what I have been afforded.

And I do know I have been afforded quite a bit. A family. A life. A good education.

Yet, where are my ambitions?

I think somewhere along the way, I've lost myself.

To the logic of the situation. To what is expected of me. To my moral obligations.

And I hate that.

Sometimes... I confuse that with hating myself.

Here's to plodding forward one day at a time, and moving past this.

Fame

Dear Star-Struck Masses,

If there's one thing I don't understand about today's modern society, it's the rabid false idolatry worship taken mutant man-eating form across today's media frenzied culture. With humanity's increasing technology making it easier to communicate across continents, effortless to relay news in real-time, we've become a globalized community. But with it has arisen a means for media-approved stalking of big named stars. And, of course, those media-savvy agents have taken full advantage of this. Personal interviews, legalized stalking, rabid paparazzi and over the top personal grievances of the rich and famous gone public.

Frankly, this scares me.

For me, I fall in love with characters. The roles. Actors? Actresses? Musicians? I may admire them, but it's their work that truly grips me.

In all honesty, if I had a chance to meet face to face with such well known folk, I would duck, cower and run.

Meeting actors or musicians, and knowing their faults, making them human and mere individuals just spoils the whole "I'm in love with the bad-ass demon hunter" thing.

Yes. I'm weird. Yes. I'll never be a true fangirl.

But, in a way, I guess it's only polite.

And if anything, I'm polite. Even to the point of being impolite.

I mean these folk, these talented talented folk, I'm sure they need their privacy. Their own personal space.

And as much as they owe their careers to their fanbase, their fanbase owes their dreams, fantasies and enjoyment to these folk.

I guess, I just don't understand the sheer intrusiveness of fame. The sheer inanity of wanting to know every detail of your idol's life. As if knowing everything about them, makes you own them.

Makes you entitled to a piece of them.

Again. It's terrifying. And I really admire any who put up with it. But again, it takes guts and dedication to be that sort of fan, and you can't dismiss that either.

In a sense, I can understand it either way.

But did I really need to know about so-and-so's public mental breakdown?

I think that's just in bad taste.

After all, they're people too. And it ain't helping no one by publicizing that piece of news.

Well. At least not emotionally.

But at the end of the day, I guess the entertainment industry is just that; and industry. A business.

And it almost always boils down to the money. And people have to eat sometime. Even if not often to keep that oh so desirable hot summer bod.

Identity Crisis

Dear God,

I hear you're the go-to man for impossible requests, unshakable faith and doubtless conviction. Omnipresent and omnipotent, you see all my imperfections and failings. Truth be told, even if I were a little more certain, and a little less cynical, I'd need a being like you in my life right now.

The almighty entity you are, I'm sure you know each of us by name. But I wonder if you know me? Even as I'm not entirely sure who I am.

Or who I want to be. And, and the end of the day, I'm not quite sure what I want or need in life.

We all spend our lives continuously engrossed in the public's perception of who we are. How we act. How to define ourselves by weight, color, race, religion and personality. I'm introverted. I'm a daughter. A friend. An acquaintance. A wannabe writer. I'm shy. I'm a terrible person. A kind person. A person.

I'm all those things and more. But, if there's one thing I'm terrified that I'll forget, it's that we're all people. We're all individuals. We're all smart, stupid and damned right confused some of the time.

It's just too easy to see a crowd, instead of people. Annoyances instead of folk who have their own worries and concerns. And sometimes, when I think about this, I wonder if we really understand each other and all?

What is society if we can't even understand our neighbors? If we're reduced to day-end jobs. Surface thought interactions. Half-bumbled socializing.

Sometimes, I wonder about friendship. About love. About emotion. About if I'm doing this right.

I'm insecure. But, as I try to remind myself, so are many others.

I try to imagine the after life, God, as something beyond ourselves. A collective being. I'm not sure if it's heaven or hell, or something worth having. It scares me.

It's selfish. And really to be expected.

It's at times like these that I question if I really know what I'm feeling. If I don't even know what I want, what good am I? Maybe I'm defective?

But I'm not self-indulgent enough to think that the problems I have are unique to myself.

So where does that leave me, God?

I'm not quite sure if I believe in you, or if I'm lying to myself.

I'm not quite sure of anything. I'm not too proud to say that I don't think I know anything of worth. Hah. That's rich. Years of education only to stumble upon this.

I guess, it would all be less complicated if we thought in absolutes. Knew instead of thought.

But, God, even if you don't exist, you are something I look up to. Something I take comfort in.

And for now, I guess it's all I've got.

After all, I'm merely human.

With an identity crisis. Damn plant metaphor.

Renn Fayre & Birthdays

Dear Reed,

You kinda rock. As evidence below: Renn Fayre is glitter and awesomeness. YAYFORTHEDOCTORWHOREFERENCESABOUND! It was awesome.

Great leadup to epic brithday of awesomeness. <3 TAMMEH IS AWESOME.

As you can probably tell. I'm kinda sleep deprived. YAY!

Comfy Bed of Mine

Dear Bed,

Stop tempting me. D: I miss you much.

Winter Blooms

Dear Spring,

I'm looking forward to meeting you!

Self Confidence and Humility

Dear Confidence,

I'm not quite sure who I am anymore. Nor am I quite sure I ever knew who you were. Yet, at the very least, you'd think you'd know yourself until one day you just don't. I guess I'm not sure if it's a founded fear that one day I'll wake up and wonder if the life I'm living is really mine to live. Or is it all a mere convenience. An expectation. The result of years of uncertainty.

There's a reason why I don't enjoy being at the center of attention. I guess, it's a result of years striving for something resembling self-efficacy. Yet, at the end of the day, I guess my ego's too fragile for this. We should all strive for that balance between self confidence and humility, yet I feel that as such if I should challenge and strive to be anything but mediocre, the failure would hit be harder than I could ever understand.

Yet, truthfully, I realize my humility rests on the fact that my self-confidence has never been tried. Expectations and goals I've set myself in the past never really needed outside affirmation. The things that I do, I do the best of my known ability. I guess this may be a blessing in disguise, but, I never really felt the need to prove myself to others. Or thought it too out of my league to even try. I guess, it's a strange concoction of confident humility.

But, it troubles me. For despite all my self-proclaimed independence in preserving my sense of self worth, I've always felt that should I ever set out to prove myself to others, that would be placing my strangely guarded ego- exposing it- to forces unknown.

Frankly it's terrifying.

So naturally, with this in mind, I think I should make a promise to myself. To set myself against public standards, and either find myself lacking or otherwise. After all, this was the very basis of my decision to go to Reed. I guess, you could call it a personal challenge. I guess at the end of my fours years here, I hope I'd be the person I'm striving to be. In spite of the possible heartbreak and soul shattering, ego crushing events that'll sure to attack my delicate sensibilities, I do hope I'll survive.

Or - really- the best of me will. Whatever that is.

After all, life's an experience that ought to terrify you. And that just makes it worth living.

I /bleed/ Red, White and Blue...

Uncle Sam,

You may not remember me, but we've met.

You were such a sight to see- streets paved with gold and ideals- glittering like broken glass. Freedom draped across your shoulders, drenched in starlight and sequined dreams. A shining paragon of heroic patriotism cloaked in deathly valor and deep rooted pride; oh how I envied you.

I was the scraggly hopeful, millions of miles away from home; the one with the rented American Dream, pressed and patched near immaculate. I swear you couldn't even tell it was ever once broken! After all, there is nothing a little polish and spit can't fix.

It was beautiful, that night, at the meeting of the worlds. You strung bright lights and stars across the horizon, blazing opportunity true and sweet. Streaks of red, blue and white stained scenes hidden behind closed doors. The white washed halls glittered prettily beneath the flash photography.

Ideally, it was picture perfect. White picket fence and gleaming cars hiding browned dollar bills and weathered faces. Faces smudged into a single living entity. All lined in laughter, hope and worry- signs of a life long lived- be it in bittersweet truth or a dreaming nightmare: both all true and contrary.

Once, you took my hand in yours, callused and cracked, and didn't flinch.

You were warm, and somehow, that lingered.

I knew I wasn't one of a select few. I wasn't chosen. You didn't call me by name. But you welcomed me all the same; beggar, pauper and king.

You may not know me, Uncle Sam, but I know you. As I once knew the dream- the ideal- I now know your walls. Even as the borders close and gates gleam steel and iron, the hungry- clamoring -continues. People are willing and many have died for the dream just as they've lived it with abandon and ingratiated pride.

But I am not a dreamer, Uncle Sam. Nor am I a patriot living the dream. I will not die to keep it alive, nor will I kill to see it buried.

I, instead, watch hungry eyed and drooling. Hands greasy, pressed against gleaming glass, tracing frenzied colored pictures. You may not see me, Uncle Sam, but I see you in every waking moment and every distant dream. A fantasy living so close yet so far; so real, yet so broken and raw it almost chafes.

Your world may not be mine, Uncle Sam, yet it seeps at the edges; red, blue and green. It colors me a world of crayon florescence; outside lines, borders and convention with a nine year olds conviction and a pubescent’s glee.

We've barely met, Uncle Sam, but sometimes I think I've known you my whole life.

You may not remember me, Uncle Sam, but I remember you and your promises of a dream to live for. A pain worth bearing.

And in all my insecurities, my doubts and my inadequacies; I, lost as I am, stay grounded at your borders. I, who lost hold of all my worldy possessions, cling to your edges, even as they cut deep. I, who know nothing, know this: I will wait till you know me.

I will wait till you call me by name and choose me from kings. I will wait till your gates rust golden and crumble down at my feet.

Because, Uncle Sam, for all your gleaming streets, this is my gold paved pathway.

And I will walk it no matter what the cost.

-------

((Mutant plantlife be damned, I'm on to you Uncle Sam. And despite your border security regulating importing plant AND animal life as well as meat AND fruit products...

One day....you'll slip.

And this weed'll be waiting...))

Merry Christmas!

Dear Santa,

You should really be more environmentally conscious and stop sending people coal.

I hear bio-fuel corn cobs are all the rage this year.

Finals of Fall 2009

Dear Exhausted Brain,

Hang in there! I'm counting on you. Please don't let me down.

Culture Shock?

Dear Concerned Grocer,

It has come to my attention that the majority of my bi-weekly grocery run that the particular supermarket I've been frequenting certainly has the oddest method of arranging their food items. After hunting high and low for a healthy snack option, I decided- as the blindly naive student that I am- that "fruit snacks" were the products of interest for me. Yet, when arriving at the aisle which so proudly proclaimed such a status, all I was met with was a row of fruit flavored sweets. They weren't even imbued with real FRUIT flavoring. They were artificially flavored /candies/. I guess I could attribute this to the whole I'm in a new country- the land of the free/the big old U.S of A- which comes with it's whole new social strata, customs and cultures.

I guess, when you're living in a extremely westernized society- with all that globalization or whatnot- it really surprises you when you're out there in the wild wild west that...something surprises you. After all, you've seen it all on telly. Your whole world rises and sets in those frenzied colored pictures and dramas, you're familiar with the basics of pop culture...

Heck! You could even say you were one of them!

But you're not. Not really.

You go over there, and as an Asian, the whole hospitality and service industry surprises you. It shakes your entire world. You find it creepy, not inviting. I mean, after all, when you're shopping with purpose, thoroughly absorbed in your quest on finding those perfect pair of shoes- a beaming employee, however polite he or she may be, is really creepy when they sneak up behind you and pounce with their wide smiles and 'how may I help you's. It really doesn't help.

Moreover, when you're raised in a kiasu environment. You learn to finer arts of conserving the environment. After all, that extra gallon of water/gas/electricity is costing you money. Good money. PENNIES of it even! This aspect, I guess, considering I'm involved with the socio-political movement that is Reed College, really disappointed me. I guess with all my sweeping generalizations, this is particularly indulgent of my self-righteous stance of the green movement and hypocrisy. I mean, people here, they turn on the tap water- take out their tooth brush- LEAVE IT ON at full blast for god knows how long whilst they brush their teeth- then rave about the effect of global warming when the campus is littered with paper fliers that publicize an event for two days before their existence become obsolete.

I've just never really seen this many posters before.

I guess my world views are just a tad bit high strung.

Don't even get me started on vegetarianism. I- as the omnivore I was evolved to be- am aiding the species that is the domesticated farm chicken, cow and other such livestock continue their existence!

Not that I don't understand the need for such green revolutions and social movements. I do not advocate animal cruelty- yet somehow, these political movements and protests leave me disbelieving and snarky.

Maybe I'm cynic. Maybe it's cause I found the fruit snacks tucked next to the biscuits. Maybe it's because I had to search the entire supermarket for them only to find a less than extensive selection. Maybe it's all just one big culture.

What's with that anyway?

I guess I just really don't understand.

As a child educated within the confines of an international school, I've been indoctrinated to cite the reason for my misunderstanding as being a third culture kid. I guess, despite it being a really arbitrary term, it justs means that I don't really identify with any one nationality or race. Which I guess, is true.

Yet, it's all a bit disconcerting really when you think you'd fit in easily in the big old US of A, just to find out that the one thing you thought you'd long be labelled as- a kid raised in a westernized culture, the child with that really angmoh accent- is just another culture you fall short in identifying with. I really don't know what to think about this. Yet, I guess, if I were the optimistic kind, I'd say I'm part of a diverse bunch of international students. I've been more culturally exposed than most. Yet, for all my exposure, it's but a shallow understanding.

I guess, when you're digging at your roots and come out of the mud, panting and dirty with nothing but this wimpy wilted mutant of a hibiscus-rose-orchid hybrid, you sorta feel cheated. After all, despite it's peculiarity, it's only a species with the barest of surface roots.

But, I guess, when life throws you a hibiscus-rose-orchid hybrid, wimpy as it may be, it's just god's way of saying...

"Damn, Alicia, you're just a terrible gardener with no real appreciation of this huge floral bounty I'm sowing at your feet. Just stop rooting around and stomping on my tulips else I'll smite you and smite you good".

And that's just that I suppose.

Who am I to argue with an omniscient power?

After all, I'm pretty sure that despite the culture shocks life has thrown my way, there'll still be a fruit snack section (with real fruits) almost wherever I go.

Hopefully.

Else otherwise, God- the kind and gracious being that he is- will be sure to toss me a mutant lemon-guava hybrid my way cause he's just funky like that.

Reeding it UP! (A Month IN!)

Dear Uninterested Masses,

It's been ages since I first set down into the awesome place that is Reed College. The poison(s) of choice this semester; Hum110, Chinese210, Calculus 111 and Bio 101. My own personal cocktail of fun, torture and unending glee.

I can't believe I sorta kinda (maybe. deep down. a dark dark place inside of me.) enjoy Biology. Of all things. It's kinda scary. Caring for tadpoles and catching fish have been quite painfully enjoyable in that "OH MY GOD I AM NOT ENJOYING THIS AT ALL AT THE MOMENT BUT LATER WHEN I REFLECT (or rather meditate on the spiritual progress of my immortal soul) ON THIS INSTANCE I WILL LAUGH AND SMILE IN FALSE REMEMBRANCE". (Note: This can also refer to the various instances in the past such as Project Week and the like).

Hum110 is rather interesting. I rather am quite puzzled as to if this is an english assignment sort of thing or one of those rambling american essays. Whatever do they expect? I guess I'll find out. Oh joy. :)

Chinese was most surprising. I actually find myself enjoying the classes. There is more emphasis on intonation and I've learnt quite a few basic things that I never knew before (DID YOU KNOW TONES CHANGED? D: AND THEY'RE IMPORTANT?) Hah. I guess it beats slacking off in class and attempt to attentively listen to the pouring over of every freaking word in a newspaper article. D: I STILL REMEMBER THOSE HORRIBLE NEWSPAPER REPORTS WE HAD TO DO. *shudder* ALL THAT CHINESE. Now there's traditional characters to handle with too. :S I keep on mixing words up. Help me people?

Well, apart from classes, school life here has been slow and rather comfortable. It's almost scary. The place here is beautiful. I mean. All those gothic griffins and other such creatures simply lurking around in the architecture. It's kinda eerie. It's like living in a park. I enjoy walking aimlessly about. :P AND CHECKING MY MAILBOX EVERYDAY FOR INCOMING MAIL (thankyoufraniloveyou). It's just not that difficult to find a reason to amble around with no definite purpose. With all those adorable dogs running around. Dognapping is illegal and immoral. Must remember that.

Moreover, I found myself hooked on an age old addiction: shoving down instant noodles. So much so that over a span of two days I've managed to eat 5 whole packets! My supplies are running low, and a rationing system is now....sadly...strictly maintained (my internal scrooge rattled his cane threateningly at me).

The food here (I know-folks- it always seems to come down to that when it comes to me) is not as bad as I expected. My personal rules are:

1) If it has chicken in it. Don't eat it.

2) If it has turkey in it. Don't eat it.

3) If it has onions in it. Eat it.

4) If it sorta looks vegetarian. Eat it.

It's really odd how I shy away from eating meat now. I think I'm becoming....I dare not say it... health-conscious. D:


Well. One thing to say about the climate here is that I adore doing laundry. DRIERS ARE HEAVEN INCARNATE. They provide you with this bundle of unavoidable WARMTH. D: I can't even describe it. It's sorta akin to that feeling where you're in bed, tucked in this warm cocoon thing and don't want to move. :) It gives me the warm fuzzies.

Hahha. GUESS WHAT? I also have this lasting bruise imprint in the shape of a sandle strap of my feet (no warts yet) as well as a few chafing matters (thank god for band-aids) on my leg where the boots we had to wear into the pond for biology ate away a chunk of my leg. Moreover. I cut myself on my thumb. It's sorta dead-like now.

Anyways, I think I have to do something productive now!

Love Reed!

And food. And sunshine and rainbows. And substance free highs. PEOPLE. SEND ME MAIL. D: I'll love you (more than I already do)!

When FISH attack!?

Dear Queen of Hearts,

Today I was attacked by an enraged fish out of water. It was beheaded following that transgression.

However, it splashed me good. The blood splatter stains are hard to get out.

Any tips on avoiding this sort of thing? I know beheadings are sort of your thing.

Malaysia Food Hunt Diary

Dear Food-Loving Folk!

It was just your average Thursday when 'lo and behold a sudden urge bestruck the parentals. It was a swift need of bureaucratic leanings, but nevertheless, despite the initial outlined goals for the expedition, it brought with it a windfall far beyond that of my initial imaginings.

Bags were packed hurriedly the morning before and a hurried breakfast of glazed sugar donuts (courtesy of our ever lovely neighbors, bless their kind souls) and coconut butter cake (the result of mom's toils the previous afternoon). Suffering on a sugar high we ambled our way to the roomy confines of the car. It was a long arduous trip filled with snoring, drool and staring thoughtfully into the distance (at least on my part).

Well. So far I've successfully struck off quite a few items from my mental scavenger's list of things to eat before my departure to good ole United States of America.

Satay.
INDIAN rojak.
Bandung.
Assam Laksa.
TOP HAT!
STEAMED FISH. (PATIN)
DURIAN!
Perfectly charred seafood hor fan!
TOSAI!
(mutabak. butitwasn'tthatnice)
POLO BREAD! (with buttery goodness)
KAYA BALLS! (Jaya Jusco @ wangsa maju!)
ROTI TELUR.
AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST! LEMANG! With chewy sweet chicken floss thing! And mom's homemade SAMBAL! AND RENDANG! Just like it's supposed to be eaten.

I've learn quite a few things on my trip.

1) My chinese has progressively deteriorated.
2) Genting: is a pass in the mountains which allows passage to the other side. Or a type of clay roof tile. Or an important buisnessy thing. It is a malay word and should be pronounced: G-ENNNNNN-TING.
3) Cold weather is conducive for deep sleeping.
4) Ghandi was an amazingly HUMAN mortal man with flaws and a sense of humor (this is usually overlooked by his looming conscience and relatively strong moral code). He was a man of principal. (Reading his biography in the Gohtong Jaya's chilled air is amazingly refreshing. However my reading was punctuated with periods of disgust and an unwillingness to immerse myself in past accounts of racism.)
5) Monkeys are smart creatures and are impervious to barbed wire. They also enjoy rummaging through the trash. They also make paltry stalkers and stride with pride and barely concealed teeth of doom.

And LAST BUT NOT LEAST!

6) Family time never fails (well. almost never.) to leave me awesomely happy/content/rested.

Now I'm back. Shoutouts go to the extended family. Malaysia was mostly m'dad driving. Me staring at plantations. Us getting caught in apparent police blockades in their endeavor to stop protests. Me wondering what on earth is up with the haze (is it just my obviously faulty vision, or perhaps it's sorta a foggy veil of delusion sort of thing?). And LOTSALOTSA EATING.

Oh. I went swimming today. Yay me. I also got my hair cut. It took six and a half hours to do so. In all it was an eventful four days. Am back in Singapore now. Shall endeavor to breathe life into this blog.

CHICKEN! <3 A nice side-dish to my beloved lemang.

I PROSTRATE MYSELF DOWN BEFORE THEE IN WORSHIP M'LORD.

Kuantan snack shops have everything from dried longan (delicious) to shark fin (and EVEN dried WHOLE fish!)!!

Heh. It was fun. IN FACT. HAD INDIAN ROJAK IN KUANTAN!

WOODEN CRAB! In rememberance of COOKEDPEPPERCRAB! <3 May the memory of your tastyness linger in our minds forever.

Introduction

Dear Anonymous,

I'd like to inform you of a startling new thought I had the other day, one which could revolutionize the industry of faceless crowds and nameless faces!

Introducing the newly improved Alicia Pang!

Alicia is an odd sort.
She eats puppies, lurks in shadows and plans to take over the world relatively soon.

She also, on occasion, enjoys short ambles on the beach, reading, writing and eating.

Whilst she figures out how on earth to decipher her brilliant plans for her future global empire, she mostly fills her days by lazing about and being a general nuisance.

Such a nice girl, that Alicia.

If you've seen her, please report the sighting immediately to your local authorities. They won't care cause she's mostly harmless. Well. That is unless (or until) you feed her.

Then she'll leech onto you for the rest of your life. There is no hope of reprisal or cure.

It's a life sentence.

Thanks for listening to this public awareness announcement. Do enjoy the rest of your day!