of hair and horrors

right now, i have sigur ros' hoppipolla wistfully flowing out of the lappie. i miss listening to this song. and i re-discovered my love for it while switching mtv on at 5am, while trying to study for chemistry (or was it math?) it's one of those songs that you can listen to and be enthralled and feel like you can disappear anywhere. lovely. i want to find the sigur ros album. they're swedish, i think. the song's not even in english. but who cares. i love them. and their melancholic tunes are a faithful reminder of mew. haunting melodies, mourning voices.

my hair is in the stage which i like it most. messy, tousled, unkempt. to top it off, a fringe that covers my eyes. my mum says i'll turn into cousin it soon, or worse, the female version of paul twohill. (this is a comparison i don't like. since his hair isn't naturally that way, unlike mine) i like how hair looks like when i just wake up. uncared for but soft. messy, yet elegantly rock. not to short for it to be sticking out, not too long for it to look like tarzan. maybe i won't go to the hairdresser anymore. until mr ng threatens to cut my hair to look like his. eugh. you have none.

i smiled so much last night, my cheeks hurt. thank you. and we need to talk, face to face, soon.