I went on a shopping operation today (never just shopping, these forays into town are almost military in their preparation and execution) and realised I was a brand slave.

The first shop I walked into was a Body Shop outlet, and guess what! I was wearing their lip gloss that day. And when I’m not wearing their lip gloss, I’m wearing their Lip Butter so either way I would have worn their products into the store. But I wasn’t buying any lip products, I have way too many. I was buying eye colour. That particular task of today’s operation was a mild failure, but never mind, let’s not detract…

Next was a 37 degree outlet. This is a local brand, in the style of surfing brands like Roxy and Ripcurl. They make very funny t-shirts with slogans. I was carrying my ol’ faithful, a fuchsia sling bag which I bought 3 years ago on impulse, and which I’ve loved since. No prizes for guessing that the bag was from the same outlet.

After that was a Giordano outlet, and really, I should have seen it coming, because all 3 pairs of my jeans are from that brand. They cater for Asian sizes which is good, because i have wide hips and short legs. The madness continued with a foray into the Adidas shop, where my Adidas shoes greeted their brethren. But I do have a weakness for Adidas, I admit that. They make lovely shoes.

I finally broke the cycle by going into a shop I had never entered before. I came out with a new top, which I’m going to wear for Chinese New Year. It’s red, like all good Chinese New Year clothes should be. All the better to collect hong bao in, my dear. And with the amount of money I spent today, those red packets will be very useful indeed.

I can’t break my addiction to these brands. I absolutely love Body Shop because their products are actually good, and they have principles. It’s like a self-empowerment exercise shopping there. I could probably buy more obscure apparel brands though, because everyone in Singapore shops at Giordano, and I never liked being part of a herd.

Wouldn’t the marketing managers of Body Shop and Adidas rejoice to hear that they have such loyal customers like me. Unfortunately, the Body Shop’s marketing department just turned down an endorsement request from me.

I went to buy a pillow yesterday from the town centre. It cost 10 dollars and was a good bargain. My old one was filled with cotton, and I bought it before embarking on my uni adventure. It got all lumpy and flat. I’d have gotten better support by sleeping on my blanket.

The new one is made of polyester, which doesn’t flatten so easily. It looked so fat and round in the pillowcase, in contrast to the old one. And when I lay down on it, whoa.

It was fluffy, light and positively blissful. It was really like sleeping on a cloud, or on cotton candy. It bounced back, but it wasn’t a solid mass pushing your head around. Aaaahhh. A good night’s sleep at last.

I had my first lecture of the term yesterday as well, and it was also my first late lecture. It begins at 6 pm and ends at 8, which is the last lecture slot available. Lecture timings are standard across most of the faculties, because of cross-faculty classes. So this is the ‘late’ class because the sky is dark by the time lecture is over. Thank God I live on campus. It seems so awfully lonely, taking a bus ride back home to a cold dinner. Eating dinner alone at the table just doesn’t have the same feel as tucking in with your family.

I was supposed to go down to Town (as opposed to town) today to buy my textbook, but I ended up doing much more. I went to buy lingerie instead. I’m making myself over bit by bit. Today I wore a spag-strap top to class, and put on lip colour. I figure I might as well use it, there’s way too much to be just “for the weekends”. Unfortunately the makeup routine resulted in my being late to meet someone selling me a secondhand textbook.

I keep getting emails from other undergrads looking to sell their textbooks to us, the new students. I got a pretty good deal on my books, because these email senders seem to be overcharging. Hah! I have all my boo-ooks. Now I need to read them. Darn. That’s the hard part, isn’t it?

Oh, and I helped out a part-timer job person. I did a survey while shopping. I don’t usually like doing surveys on the road because the survey takers will pressure you to leave your particulars, and I don’t like that. But this one was just an opinion survey so I didn’t mind. I feel like a less-bad person today.

The kitten I was fostering for the past week is gone. After a few days of anticipation, it’s gone off to a better home than I could offer.

I picked it up exactly a week ago, from the animal shelter. It came ‘home’ to a pampered existence – its own bowls, litter box, squeaky toy, and my whole room to explore.

The novelty soon wore off. Within 2 days, to be precise. It constantly sought my attention (being how it was only the 2 of us in that room) and climbed on everything it could, and jumped where it shouldn’t have. I didn’t like it on my lap, because its little kitty claws stuck into my legs like needles. It soon made my beanbag Smooshy its territory. It slept there, and sometimes I’d forget it was there and accidentally put my legs on top of it.

It didn’t eat at first, because it was used to canned food in the shelter, and I bought it dry food. Eventually it ate corned beef, because that was the only canned meat I had in the room. I stuck kibble into the meat like embedded treasures, and by Tuesday it was eating kibble by itself.

The last 2 days it was here, it discovered my closet. When I opened the doors to get clothes, it would clamber in and try to climb my suitcase, as though it was a vertical rock face. I had to make sure it wasn’t around the area when I opened the closet.

I just cleaned my room, washed my laundry, my sheets and my beanbag cover. And when I opened the doors of my closet, there was no kitten waiting to sneak inside. There was no chirping from its squeaky toy. No smell of kitty litter in the room.

I hope it’s happy with the family who adopted it. Have a good life, Milan.