After an weird encounter with a very-hard-to-understand person at church which totally wrecked the mood for me and caused me to leave the place alot later than I had intended, I headed down to a friend's house party. It had the makings of a pretty swell Singaporean house party. (Emphasis on Singaporean because our definition of partying is significantly different from other liberal countries.) There was really loud music (albeit mostly trance), lots of free booze (by free, i mean that the university paid for it), good food, the best cheesecake ever (da paolo!), happy happy people (the booze ran out), and a big house all to ourselves.
But I couldn't exactly enjoy myself much. Because it had to be Ridgewood, of all condominiums. My roots don't mean anything. I make my own destiny. Only that should matter. Somehow, it's much harder to accept than I had expected.
But I couldn't exactly enjoy myself much. Because it had to be Ridgewood, of all condominiums. My roots don't mean anything. I make my own destiny. Only that should matter. Somehow, it's much harder to accept than I had expected.
