MERRY CHRISTMAS!

HO HO HO
this is extremely short and stupid.
BUT
MERRY CHRISTMAS :D

MAY SANTA VISIT YOU AND GIVE YOU A POTATO!

Christmas in the Cave

My cough isn't getting any better.

I've been forgetting things and people far too easily. All I have left are just some memories, blurred and vague. Memories of people- those that look pretty familiar and whole but if you zoom in on them, you'll see you can't remember them at all. Maybe those are the memories to keep at a distance and never try remembering.

My cough isn't anything big. It just comes in small bits and my throat isn't that dry either. It just makes me feel like I'm choking. Choking for air. Like there's not enough, simply not enough air. Like someone's squeezing my throat and only allowing bits of air to enter and I can't control it. I try, holding my breath and not cough, but it just suffocates me.

Right now, I'm in the Christmas mood. Listening to Andrea Bocelli is lovely. He has such a nice voice and the Christmas carols he sings are all so soothing and relaxing, so homey and happy. So peaceful. I'm almost expecting it to snow, especially after listening to White Christmas by him. Here, in the silence of the night (with only the sound of my choking for air), I feel so comforted. Yet as I gasp and choke for air, my heart isn't thrumming wildly. It's just reduced to a warm, slow beat. It's as though I have conquered death (what a thing to say, I know.) and my physical self is decaying, but my soul is calmed and at ease.


I've been drinking green tea. It's bitter, but fragrant. It also warms my tummy.

I'm turning extremely nocturnal, and I think it's the peacefulness of the night that's luring me. I'm not tired. I'm just extremely peaceful, satisfied and happy. Happy to be away from people.

I'm also worried- well, not quite, seeing as I'm quite composed, my soul, at least. I've sunken into this holiday far deeper than the others. It's like all my friends have faded into the background. Like they are there, but they don't actually matter. Right now, I'm prepared for school. Maybe not quite, but the main gist is there. I've also grown terribly intolerant to people. I'm okay with my friends, because I know they're not quite human (potatoes, aliens, tomatoes, the whole lot), but when it comes to people, I dislike having to acknowledge their presence. This is bad. I'm reverting to my natural state- the hermit crab.

But they're all fading away. Like they do exist, but they don't. It's complicated.

The shooting in Connecticut. It reminded me of Faye-Anne. It's pretty dangerous there. And people who go killing little children. Why? I don't understand. Nobody does. Your thoughts are individual, but they're pretty much similar to everyone's, the way we live, in our own cultured society (or uncultured, but our thinking always grow from the same seed our parents or guardians plant in our heads). Anyway. I think we're pretty lucky to be alive, right now. That although we have a few bad people or some sick thoughts going viral in people's minds, humanity is good. Humanity is naturally good. And there are people who believe. These awful murders keep cropping up, but this one is much more shocking, like the other school shootings, because these were young children. Extremely young children.

Can you imagine? Hoping your mom will come, but instead being locked in closets or classrooms and waiting in the darkness, fear in the air while your young mind is in a whirl, worried, unsure. And then they tell you you've got to keep quiet, or you'll get shot. And suddenly you remember your mom, how you stole the last cookie from your sister, your dad who always hugs you when he reaches home. You want all of that. You don't want this mess. You don't want to die. You want to be home.

That's horrible. That's cruel.

I'm working on a play and I'm undecided on the plot and everything. I keep missing things out so the best way is to write it all on paper and get to know the characters like they're real. I've created the characters from the little traits of my friends. And while writing, I feel really hypocritical.

"Jack Frost nipping at your nose."

I don't live in a country with four seasons, so I don't exactly know what it's like to feel snow. It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? How people in countries far away from the equator wish they could live in a place with stable weather conditions while people in countries near the equator wish for snow and the four seasons. I know how terrible snow can be, snowstorms and such.

I just wish Santa visited. Or at least, that I believed in him. I don't recall believing in many fictional myths. I just took them as fake. I don't remember ever having time for them. My childhood was pretty practical. I guess. Since we don't have a chimney -laughs-

Typing out the logistics for my mom and she says that it's what adults do when they work in offices.
I don't like this.
Although I've gotten the hang of it, I don't want to do this every day.

[irrelevant scientific facts: typing will burn around 29 calories per hour and the letter 'e' is the most typed letter of the alphabet and as you press the spacebar, 600000 people around the world are, too]

It must be boring.

Sigh.

Let the world melt and burn. But always, keep believing in humanity.

short, random, sketchy post

Wow.
I've blogged thus far.

So many posts.

My first post was on Pencils, on 7 October 2011.

It's been about a year and more since.

Wow.

That, is amazing.

:)

spiraling down to the end of the world.

today is 12/12/12.

I'm starting this post at 10:10pm.

Quite late, but still.

I'm in quite a good mood. Nothing too hyped up or excited, just serenely happy in a manner. Green tea's a better alternative than milo, I guess. My throat's better- I suddenly started coughing for no reason in the middle of the night on Sunday? I suppose? I'm still taking care not to eat anything too... heaty. So.

Today. I did practically nothing. I did stretching, and I'm glad I spent a whole hour on it. I don't know, but stretching so much and practically testing my endurance skills was just. It sounds masochistic, but I did enjoy it. It kinda took the stress off me. ((what stress when I've just been hoboing around at home?)) I sang a lot too, just random songs that came to mind. I'm pretty sure I traumatised everyone within ten-kilometre radius with my banshee-like-screeching-of-a-singing. But it felt good to have my voice somewhat back.

Even when I say I can't dance, I try. It does sound superficial, but vaguely... uh, dancing or waddling to the fast-paced rhythm of J-pop, it's happy and sweet and fluffy. Even when I know I can't dance, or look good doing it, I like to just- kinda- dance because it's stress-relieving, I guess. I stopped dancing since July, because I was sure it didn't fit me and I was a joke, trying to dance- but it's a good thing I started again, stretching and having fun again. I'm trying to pick up a few Vocaloid songs :D I bet those readers who know me in real life must be laughing at the thought of a potato trying to dance when she can't even walk without tripping. It's okay. I'm pretty proud of being such a klutz. Or a n00b at real life. This game sucks but I can't walk away from it.

It just hit me that I actually have blog readers. Like, people who actually read my blog. It's kinda scary, in that way. I guess I'll have to try to stop being so melodramatic and floop online to blogger whenever I have a bad day. My problems- if they even can be called that- are just. Insignificant and stupid and I'm probably just exaggerating everything. I mean, other people have worse days- much worse than mine. I should be happy with what I have.

I watched Undercover Boss today, while working on next year's- uh, work. And there was this guy, working the night shift at 7-11. He just told the boss (who was undercover) that he was indeed, chasing the American dream, and that he's in bliss now. He's happy with what he has, he feels like it's good enough for him, he doesn't complain. And I think about my life right now- close friends, free and relatively fast wifi, a comfortable bed and a roof over my head, with books and bananas and parents who are different from the typical parents, proper education... What more can I expect?

Of course, when I get sad and floop onto blogger, this whole thing will be contradicted.

I'm sitting at my dining table, there's a soft breeze and it's rather cold here, but it's nice. It's quiet, just a little too silent. I'm half-way through creating a video montage for my class and I might spend the night creating a fandom video, but I'm not sure. Sigh.

I'm surrounded by talented people.

Anyway. I haven't been writing much. I baked some cookies yesterday, but they seem pretty... inedible to me. But oh, my precious little dough circles. I think it's the flour. But I still have quite a bit of flour left, so I might bake some tomorrow.

I haven't been writing much. Instead, I've been drawing. I don't even feel shame for all the lack of writing. And my drawings are, as usual, terrible. But at least. I'm still trying out portraits of real human, and of course I've been dying next to my sketchbook, vomiting rainbows and unicorns because I've reached the point of no return.

I've succeeded in failing.

Recently, I've been extremely excited about my sister's prom. It's a YEAR away, so I must be going bonkers. I really want to try. You know. Helping her and all. Painting her nails. I've gone on tumblr and I've seen this new... thing about painting nails and it looks cool- YOU CAN PAINT WORDS ONTO YOUR NAILS.

((now trust me I'm not high. Not yet.))

Today is 12/12/12. I didn't do anything special at all. I just. Well. Yep. Nothing. People keep talking about how nice it is to have a repetitive date. I think it rather, silly. We're just counting down days and time till a special time and once it passes, we keep counting them down. What does it really matter, anyway? Time is only a word we fashioned to create a much more orderly society. But we've really, just been counting ourselves down.

-takes a sip of tea-

I look at people and just wonder how they want to do all those things, learn a different language, pick up a new skill, while I'm just here. Doing nothing. Of course, I've been experimenting with digital art, but it seems like I'm never going to make it. and it's rather useless, of course. Unless I become a designer which isn't quite possible.

It is, if I try. Hard enough.

Right now I don't even know what I want to do for my subject combination, which I have to choose by the end of next year.

I've been wanting to try painting. I'm hopeless at it, of course. Just dreams that'll fade away. Far, far away.

That's it. I'm just going to end it here, 10:44pm and continue with my video montage :)

Readers, why do you continue to read the life of a melodramatic girl who is untalented and silly and really just dreaming? Is it funny? I think it might be. :)

nine days away to the end of the world.

I can hear them talking about me outside.

How I cry too easily.

I don't know.

They don't understand my insecurities.
Even I don't understand why.

Why I'm such a disappointment.

Sometimes I think of how people can manage everything so easily.

I stalked a senior, just to find that when she was my age, she had so many commitments like Science Olympiad, Math Olympiad, National Debate, WSC, piano and other talent programs. She was able to juggle all of them so well and practise 1.5 hours on the piano and still feel unsatisfied, willing herself to practise more. She aimed to reach for the top three in her class because she knew she could do it.

...I feel so ashamed.

I remember trying to draw Benedict Cumberbatch, I failed miserably at it. At first it seemed good. But the longer I looked at it, the worse it got. Hair. Wrong. Everything. Wrong.

I'm pretty sure I was born wrongly, maybe I was dropped as a baby, that there was some malfunction in my body that made me unable to function normally.

I know I'm supposed to transform these kind of negative thinking into positivity, making sure I try my best to succeed at things. But sometimes when you've tried so damn hard and so many times you can't be sure, you don't. You just can't be bothered to face or acknowledge another failure. And sometimes you need to drown in your own misery and let it flow over you, rush over you.

I don't know what help it does.
But it makes me feel better in the end, when I'm physically and mentally unable to express my frustration at myself.

Perhaps it just means to clear your mind of all emotions, until you just feel numbed. Then you'll bounce back easily.

Writing this out. It makes me feel just that little bit better. I think I should continue with my journal :)

YAY I AM BLOGGING AGAIN

how did you guys miss me

anyway. I have been watching some random China drama (apparently their Chinese standard is better than other- rather expected, though) and it's about the era when there were dynasties and I think it was 清朝 with   雍正皇帝 or something :D And it's quite funny, amusing when they quarrel. But the way they fight- it's just BURN BWAHAHAHA because they're really good at secretly hurting people, hinting things and beating around the bush and stuff. And there was this one scene: XD

松公公：奴才最该万死！
皇帝：不必了，你这种人死一回便足够了。

And the concubines actually have ranks and whatnot! And they always say things like, "这是自然的" and "都怪 臣妾/奴婢 嘴笨" and also "失宠了". It's quite funny I think I can reply to people aptly with these lines.

Friends: Why am I always the one chosen D:
Me: 这是自然的。

Friends: You shouldn't have said that!
Me: 都怪奴婢嘴笨。

Friends: I'm so bored. My friend just abandoned me.
Me: 失宠了，失宠了。

Friends: Would you like coffee?
Me: 那是自然的。

Friends: What are you doing- what?
Me: 这是自然的。

Friends: Why don't you ever go out?
Me: 这是自然的。

Friends: Oh, you don't say.
Me: 这是自然的。

Friends: Why do you have a- potato on your table-
Me: 这是自然的。

Mom: Go do your homework.
Me: 如今，我竟然落到了这个下场，失宠了。失宠了。

Wait, what? Anyway, that was just to prove my point that you can practically answer every single question with "这是自然的。" No matter how weird it sounds.
...

This is when you stretch your arms across walls and continents and pat my back before unplugging my computer. And then you will whisper, "it's time to stop posting."

of bloodied horses and broken carriages

The world's spinning round and round and round in circles, turning on her axis, circling the pathway of the sun. It keeps turning, turning, turning in never-ending circles.

It's what they told her. Turn, spin, whirl. Forever.

And at the same time, people are going about their own circles, riding the merry-go-round of life, seated daintily on porcelain horses and carriages, their monotonous lives running past their minds, their very eyes. It's a slow slur, almost drunken and oblivious. It starts out with blasts of colours, excitement seeping through the thin, thin lines of discovery and exploration, then flashes and shimmers in the fading smudges of the rainbow. Sparks fly out in weak glimmers, piercing through the darkened (it's not even night, yet.) folds of our very skies.

And then it dies out.

Then what's remained of the inky, iridescent display melts and crumbles and mixes together into nothing but black. Putrid, evil, ugly black. And then the nightmare dawns upon us (you, we, her, him, them, all of us) and leads us to a routine of monotony, a penciled line that rushes on forever, never stopping, always the same. The headache sets in and turns all of that black into white and black again, flashing pauses of enlightenment are only mere illusions of the eerie tune the ballerina creaks and twirls to. It's desire.

Then sometimes it's too much and you regurgitate your memories and skills, sending them far, far away to somewhere much more blissful (in hopes it won't burn out like that candle that scalded you--it's the faint scent of the joss sticks lingering in the air like wisps of culture drifting away--when you knew you weren't supposed to touch it. That's red.)

And then the world falls to darkness.

Sometimes you wake up with a hangover, supported by tubes and clean, white sheets of death itself.

Most of the time, you don't.

And sometimes, you'll be kicked off the merry-go-round, off the surface of your planet, off to orbit around your own axis, your own route, a piece of rock floating around in space, undecided, lost, done.

She's probably the one who kicked you off.

It's her job, you know. Or so she thinks it's her job.

Perhaps not within the boundaries of a four-walled occupation. Something that's burning, leaking, sizzling under her sheep skin, something that's creeping up (like a wisteria. It's there, just happily settling in, curving around your finger [when you're the one curled around her finger]-- and then it kills you) beneath the pale porcelain of her doll-like innocence. Maybe it's a lust to feel cobwebs interwoven with tall, sticky tales of flaming scarlet upon your cold, clammy skin. Read the letters and words of your complicated and yet so foolish life. Read the names of every single girl or guy that's made your heart race, every single adrenaline rush you've had with coffee running down your system and pushing your head to a light, dizzy tilt.  

It's  interesting. Like abstract art, gore blotting your cold, peeling canvas-of-a-skin. Frayed threads of lost (it was never there, even from the start) life streaming down trembling, cracked skin.

Maybe it's a hobby.

A hobby with 'B's in full capitals, forced out of cracked lips vehemently with sadism pulsing down the curls of its 'Y' and dotting a glossy red neon, puncturing tanned skin. Tanned- you've gone out, but not all out. She's gone far too out. Too far. Like some disoriented moon drifting on the light-headed wisps of hell, skipping between the lava and orbiting- twirling- in its own path, destroying a black hole or two. (They were never big enough to capture her. She would dig and gnaw at their insides, till her nails bled, all just to watch them tear apart and cripple.)

And before you know it, you're off the spinning edges of the glorious ditch-of-a-home. She's laughing, her passion-smothered eyes haunting your last memory, and she's the last person you'll ever see again. You've just been kicked off the planet and left to spin, float, drift apart in space, your bones eventually breaking apart into a million, billion shatters of what you could have done. They dissolve into the thin, thin air (oh, what is air, when you've already departed from life?) and stir faintly around you, before even your own name, your own memory disappears and rots away to a finale of creaking doors and stagnant air.

There's really, nothing much to it.

And you're off the chain, the metallic stains of supposed freedom releasing its hold (grip, tight- suffocating grip) on you. And you're dead. Just a waste of space. Nothing. Nothing more than a disfigured lost cause (that you always were) waiting for nature to claim you back into her gentle arms.

Really, you're always being kicked around. Why don't you ever kick back?

Your morals(teachings on how to gain enlightenment and live forevermore, when you're just dangling precariously on the edge, waiting for her eyes to label you as her next target). Your fervent hope for a better future, forever living by the mantra that claims your kindness will eventually be rewarded. Yes, rewarded. She'll kick you off this nasty world, live the last moments of your life in sheer fear. Sheer realisation the world just is as bad as you might have thought. At least you know the truth before she's unhooked your fingers from the puppet strings you were clinging so tightly onto. Fall away as a helpless victim before the world can transform you into one of those monsters.

Fall away, then.

Fall away.

From my private notebook:

At first, they tell you that everything'd work out.

That you'd fit into a frame of expectations, high hopes threaded meticulously into your name.

Then you'd hear their light, flitting wishes as they'd call out your name.

It's like an investment: they pay in decibels and hues of tone, waiting for your ambitious, guilt-ridden heart to spin out a list of accomplishments. But sometimes you don't fit into the frame- your fingers can't stretch far enough to accommodate the ivories of whites and blacks; your legs and arms work into a frenzy as the beats of crochets and minims clamber upon your clammy heart; your vocals can't pierce through the gentle breeze like the melodious ballad of a nightingale.

And through countless resizing and resetting of the frames, you feel the last of your breath taken, squeezed out of you, the leatherbound hopes working you to your last gasp- a wheeze painfully working its way out of your despair-ridden bones.

I can't breathe.

My P6 class is planning a party.

To be honest, I'm not sure how I should react:

• happy, because I would get to see some close friends.
• torn, because there are many people I won't want to see.
• cynical, because this really seems just another one of their attempts to be more inclusive. I'll tell you what. It won't. There'll be cliques all around, it won't be a class party. And who's going to be planning it? Are they going to just talk about it for fun and do nothing? 
• Rolls eyes, because not everyone will be going.

I don't know. 

Although I've said that I intensely dislike my P6 class, I did like it at one time. Class pride, that was. At least I had that. Idek. But we weren't that close. I bet they still think I'm a quiet, thoughtful girl who's very nice and will sacrifice herself for almost anything.

Ouch. Almost everything was true. I guess. I'm definitely not going. I don't care. 

Okay, maybe I'm hesitating. I guess.

I'm not comfortable with most of them. 

Besides, Faye-Anne's in America. D:

And I don't want to embarrass myself in front of them. I'll probably be alone, again, with a few close friends by my side and sitting there and stoning like that last class party except I was helping out.

Besides, we'll probably be awkward around. One year without contact, of course we'd have nothing to talk about. But I really want to show them I've changed. I'll wear the same clothes. Idek. It sounds childish. Yep. Childish. 

Siiigggghhh.

Some of them were nice. I don't know. There was a nice person. She was loud and about. But she was nice. I guess. And she called me 'bluebird' all day long.

...

Ah well.

POTATO'D.

they're all having nice social lives while I am here derping why this is unfaaaair.

Very unfair.

Extremely unfair.

What can I say.

Anyway. I wrote the first entry for the Discovery Journal Writing.

And I realised how restricted the prompts were. Okay. I was already complaining about it a loooong time ago. The book I'm doing is Never Let Me Go by K. Ishiguro. The starting is interesting enough but I haaaate the prompts.

Why.

I can barely write something out of them. I think Miss Lim won't mind, right? I hope so.

I should try writing a poem, but I don't want to. But recently, there's an idea about writing a book about a fictional character who falls in love with the reader.

That, my friend, is amazing. It would be beautiful. I'm not sure. I should, right? At the same time, I really should finish my other works.

...

Sigh. And Project Jannock. 

BUT OH HEY I'M GOING OUT TO HAVE A LIFE WITH RACHEL :D We're going to go iceskating. Can you imagine?

Potato: on ice.

...

Like Disney: on ice, you know.

And I really should find the poetry transcript for Surburbia so I can practice it every day and suddenly burst out into it for the fun of it because it would sound so pretty  look at it.

And on Friday, I'm going back to school WHEE to get the prize for the SPH competition! I'm so glad we got Merit :D We could have gotten a writing award, too. But I guess, it's a good start! :D And of course, I'm just going to the school library for the sake of it.

I miss wearing the RGPS pinafore.

Sigh.

Oh well.

...

WAIT TODAY IS WEDNESDAY WHAT

rubbish. Me is rubbish.

I feel like randomly blogging. Ahahahahaahahahahahahhaahhahahaahha.

So it's me at my randomnest. I've finally done it. I've screwed up my body clock. I woke up at 1++ today. Well, to be exact, I woke up at 8++ but then went back to sleep.

I am a koala.

Now I am slacking even though I have homework.

I haven't found my book yet.

What is me.

What is life.

What is holiday.

What.

I should get offline and start. Idek. Sighhhhh.

Potato you lazy buumm.

B U T T.

haha I don't know why.

My degree got worse.

This is horrible.

conformity's really just a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey... stuff.

I was reading through my previous posts on blogger :D

Blogger is a nice place. I'm still trying to learn HTML, which I am obviously miserably failing at.

I'm still trying to learn how to get a new blogskin, just to try it out. HTML is a really strange and evil thing. It does weird things to your brain and makes you explode. Not that explosions aren't nice, but if you get some on the floor... Let's just say your ears are in for it too.

I haven't been on blogger for a while- been on tumblr more. Sigh. I wonder if people even read this blog.
But anyway.

Going out with Jerry and Loon was fun. Like, yeah. But loon was overreacting about my hair. Cool to know I was never registered as a female. No, I am a potato.

Potatoes are ultra fluffy and the best thing? They do nothing.

YAY :D

okay now going to try out one more blogskin.

edit: google sites make you go mad too. It's like you can't really operate anything and you have no idea on the html so you just hobo there. Staring at your computer screen, thinking that you really should try changing the logo that they set for us. Ugh.

double edit: HTML hates me. Ugh why can't just one blogskin work I intensely dislike you, HTML. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO GO ALL IRRITATING AND 'error line 22 column 18' or whatever. ROLL BACK THAT ATTITUDE.

they told you we could do anything and that we were strong. I think they were right.

I'm tired.
I really want to concentrate on writing a decent blog post but nah.

I really should write a decent blog post.
I don't know.
Sighpienigh bloob.

Oh I feel like such a coward. Why, why, why do you do this?

Today's the end of the school year.

Oh. My. Crap.

I don't know.

As I passed Rachel the graduation bear, I suddenly felt like there was something pulling me off the stage. And that they were all going to leave. And I, this lovely potato over here, am going to become a senior. To many other potatoes.

ugh.

And now, my reflections for the year.

The first thing I'm going to say is: I screwed almost everything up.

But here's a list.

• LSC 
• CCA
• Dramafest (even though I wasn't part of it...)
• My general school life.

LSC- Lifeskills Camp.

We were all new to the school and each other and by that time, I was pretty much sure that there were already cliques but the whole camp was extremely fun. Even though I screwed up some of the activities and dragged my classmates down with me, they didn't blame me. They didn't even mention it, only laughed it off and smiled. I was worried that it was just an act, because sometimes, people remember you for the strangest grudges.

But then I kinda realised that they were indeed forgiving and caring. When I slipped and almost fell, they were concerned, even though I had drastically reduced their chances of getting a prize for that activity.
I made friends quick enough, although I wasn't one of the more popular ones. I was cheerful and bubbly, rubbish coming out of my mouth- okay, I was pretty much sane the first few days. Sheeman was the first friend I kinda made, but she scared me because of her uncanny resemblance to another friend. It wasn't the looks, but more of the feeling/aura that she gave me. I was so desperate to try get another seat, but then it was the only seat left. So I had to sit next to her. And right in front of the teacher.

Back to LSC. It was interesting. Well, we had already kinda knew each other- okay, forgive my ever-deteriorating memory. So. We had a lot of fun, even during the performance. I was told that I was going out of beat, but I was only reacting to the music. Sigh, I really should try working out my coordination skills. Really.

And in the middle of the night, I heard kids giggling. Like, real kids. Not teenagers. And the scary thing was, Master Xueqi also heard it. She turned to me and I tried to pretend it was nothing but when I asked her, she said that she had heard it too. It was like some kind of amplified, airy kinda laugh. I'm still spooked. But I'm pretty sure it's the teachers. They probably played it to scare us to sleep. I don't know.

And the football interclass games. I loved it. A lot. Even though I was horrible at it and kicked the football out of court or let it in. We had fun. A lot of it. Sheeman found her talent in goalkeeping XD And we also learned that "Dancers can play soccer too!" --by our class team :D Jonana was extremely strategic, but she decided not to scare us with all the tatics. We just decided to go by this motto: When the ball gets near you, kick it away from your goalpost. The strikers or whoever in the middle field will take care of it.
I was defender, so it was relatively easy. :D We had a lot of fun screaming when the ball reached our side, but most of the time, it was on the other side of the field :D

CCA. English Language Publications Society- English Society.
I love my CCA. Everyone in it. My batchies and even the large population of sec3s and 4s. Even though the sec4s are leaving. But still. I've made quite a few friends in sec3, a batch which I always avoided because they were just so foreign. Even more than the sec4s.

I was at first, a little worried about my CCA. English Society. What did we do? Read books? That was very, very generic. And being a nerd didn't really sound very entertaining, with CCAs twice (it used to be once) a week for two hours each, all committed to reading books. It would be hard explaining to my parents.

I am in reading group. Sounds nerdy? Trust me, it's not that simple.

Well, true, we do read most of the time. But we're always doing discussions on texts and analysing of them. Reflections were introduced in the later part of CCA, but it was always a chore. Sometimes discussions were boring and nobody was enthusiastically participating, except perhaps a few sec2s or mostly sec1s. We also had the exhibitions, which I was excited about. Until I realised that no one really saw it. Perhaps a few, or a handful, but it seemed like no one was looking at them. Still, we kept trying and trying. I think the August one was the best. The October one... well, it was a pity. They were trying to 'keep to the budget' and hence, no boards. It was hardly an exhibition D:

I'm tireeeeed. D: continue more next post D:

I've just gotta keep my cool, okay, potato.

Just have to.
transform that pressure to push me to do well.

Try, breathe.

Breathe

Think.

Laugh it off.

Because it's not that important.

It's just an audition, they're just going to be judging- you know they have to judge, don't you?
It's okay.
Relax.
Breathe.

Let them tell you you're not talented in this area, let them.

Think.
Breathe.

It'll work out some way.

And if you don't dare to try, you'll regret it.

You're going to regret you didn't do your best.

Go ahead, potato.

Tell them what you want to say.

Be confident.

That script's in your mind.

Go, girl.

You're going to give it your best, no matter what happens, okay.

Don't panic or worry.

Relax.

You'll manage.

Be honest.

Think.

Breathe.

Think.

Breathe.

Think.

Breathe.

soar.

*edit: apparently I screwed it up D:

numbers and figures- they pull us apart

11:11

The time everyone starts posting their wishes and whatnot.
Thing is, someone posted something about their wishes during what was to be perceived as 11:11 at their side when it was only 11:09 for me.
Besides, I don't really see the point in 11:11 (even as I hopelessly dream on about it)
-says the person who wishes on 00:00 and various other timings-

Numbers are interesting.

Mooving on.
so.
exhibition.
yes i am excited can you just see my extremely happy face.
OCTOBER!
Halloween's!
The devil's own spawn and
reckless lines of
chalk.
Yeah. Chalk.
I miss everything that-
that used to be there.

Yeah.
It used to be easier.
Maybe chess woulda been better.
Rot there in the corner, fiddling with the buttons of the old chess clock and watch every single second pour away into a blitz, until the red flag's triggered.
What did we call it.
*do
 Flagdrop? I think so.
Stalemate.
Don't question me.

so there I was planning on a long and coherent and reasonable post but halfway there I gave up.
I think I gave up from the start.

Exhibition.
Right.
Nice, nice poem that I can't really organise into a full paragraph. I should really start concentrating.
but it seems so long since I've published a post.
SOOOOOO LONGGGGG.
I was planning on writing something decent, and there was a sudden idea for a play/prose (I'm rather undecided) and it was really good- at least, to me- and I was thinking about it on the car ride home, from loon's house- it's another thing but i liked the experience and even though i thought it as stupid. i mean, playing awkward badminton in the rain and yeah. it was fun. i like it. i still do.-

so i was listening (again, completely unrelated idea) to my playlist on my phone with my dad's earphones (i think they're for a different type of phone because-) and when it shuffled to 'What Makes You Beautiful' by One Direction...
well, because it's a weird earphone, so it practically cancelled out the vocals until it was only a very, very slight whisper and also removed some of the background music. I never realised 'Back to December' by Taylor Swift had such good instrumental-
so when I listened to 'What Makes You Beautiful'...
all I heard was the sound of the conga drums.
FOR THE WHOLE 4 MINUTES.

i love you, dad's earphones.

right. Exhibition.
I was all prepped up for it, and I bought supplies (nice, nice butterflies that were purple and black and kinda glimmering and also some ribbons) though I don't think they will be used.
still. it's pretty. sigh.
yeah.
and I've managed to complete a poem which I showed Jerry and it was meant for Yinny and it was kinda in the Halloween mood but anyways.
potato'd.

POSTMAN PAT.
yeah.
I love this show sooooo much okay the cat is totally sass and fluff and it goes like
'I DON'T CARE I'M A CAT OKAY YOU DO WHAT I WANT'
and it jumps up and down and everywhere and stuff.
and Postman Pat is just.

'I'M POSTMAN PAT AND I'M ON A SPECIAL DELIVERY SERVICE OOH DID I KNOCK YOUR POTATOES DOWN DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE OOH LOOK HEY CHICKENS HEY HORSE I LOVE THE WEATHER SO MUCH AND MY BADGE IS SHINY'

(I'm serious about this part. He polishes his badge. FOR REAL.)

I should avoid being so random and get back to work.
WORK.
sigh.
okay bye potatoes let me awkwardly slide away.
fats.
lipids.
lipase.
eoys.
screwed.
yay.

extremely short update

I feel like something's died down inside me.

There's nothing- but so /much to do after eoys.

Going out, working, revising and learning and so many books to read
while all I want to do is just so sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep
and possibly never wake up but anyway

world war two is confusing, even when I'm only left with 100+ pages to the end of the book
I somewhat get the idea of it.

bomb
attack
ohnoes we are dying
bomb
bomb
overestimation
underestimation
city falls
town falls
uprisings
bombs
fight
fight
change of commanders
more deaths
bombers
bomb
bomb
city falls
people die
concentration camps
bomb

I'm a little bored, but I'm not taking in everything I'm supposed to take in
and there's still the poem
poem
Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Haunted Palace'
it's not really.
well- not very related to Halloween but still
the themes revolving around it and darkness
and the 'unspecified evil'- that sense of evil, it's rather
interesting
but the language is a little too.
advanced for me.
loon why are you so good at things i am envy
but anyway.
yinny has taught me the basics of basics for poetry analysis and I think I kinda know how to present my analysis, although I might want to suggest a more...
interesting- kinda- sketchy way to show how we analyse poems, although
it will be messy,
MESSY.

third lang results back.
I'm proud of myself, pretty happy.
Well. At least I passed.
And I think it's pretty well done because I'm
I'm like this thing
this potato thing
 at languages and I just floop.

Yeah.
It seems so boring now
I should start work.
but I don't want to summarise all the info for Edgar Allen Poe- I'm pretty sure that it's all in Google docs and
yeah.

I really don't feel like talking much.
It's a little tiring and all the words are stuck there in your head, your lips and you can't get them out.
I forgot 'stalemate' today
and it's kinda scary since I think about those terms, 'blunder', 'check', 'checkmate', 'blitz' (blitz is such a wonderful, wonderful word and it's in the book about WWII too), 'promotion', 'Casablanca', 'London defense' and lots of other stuff.

I'm horrible at chess, I forgot.
sorry.

and I ship potatoes and tomatoes.
It's so beautiful.
So.
Delicate and.
yeah.

I might read more during the holidays to make up for everything-
what if all my efforts go to waste?
what if I don't get As for everything?
what.
I tried
I tried so
hard.
I tried and
I can't bear to hear
hear.
or see
that.
I can't.

But at the same time, it's finally over. And what's done is done so I can't really do anything.

and there's this video by Vsauce about shadow and how you'd be less heavier in the dark than in the light.

Life on hiatus

exams coming through!

I can't draw.
Well. I tried to, after listening to Hurts Like Heaven by Coldplay-- Mylo Xyloto album and it's rather catchy. I like the moosic video.

History teacher says: Because the lives of the people in the Qin Dynasty were hard, hence there were little advancements in Math and Science and Arts. This is a disadvantage........ so people were living in poverty and because of the heavy taxes, they had no time to develop in the Arts, Sciences and Math.

Exams = lack of development in the Sciences, Arts and Math = hard life = poverty.
...
Exams = poverty

D: but that's a different thing altogether.
I HAVE A CLASS BLOG.
I think it'll die after a few weeks. At most four months.
I AM SLACKINGGGGGG
and pretty proud of it.

...
why is everyone so talented and smart while I'm here derping and flooping and wriggling like a sunflower.
I kinda don't want the exams to end.
Even if it's pressurising-- I'M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO FEEL THE STRESS WHATWHATWHAT WHAT ARE YOU DOING STAHP YOU'RE GOING TO DIE AT SEC 4 AT THIS RATE.

...
I don't caaaaaaaare.
I'm glad Geog is over. It was a nightmare and I BARELY finished it.
I shall train to write faster.
Yes.
WRIST POWER.
yay :)

So here's a word of wisdom for you readers.
potatoes potate, mosquitoes moskate.

Where's the grace in graciousness?

i think we've been through this warning section quite a few times.
if you're going to be one of those adults who are going to scream and holler in indignity at my - excuse me - ignorant, idiotic and completely out of point words, please do not click the 'continue' button, thank you.
you have been warned.
i'm just going to tell you what i'll probably cover, just in case you boldly ask
"but if i don't know what you're talking about, how would i know if i'd be offended?"

i'm just going to cover this part of respect and giving up seats on public transports- are young people culprits of rude behaviour on public transports? (loooooneh)

so there.
you have been warned (again!)

autumn in england and a slight bit of rant

Autumn in England and China now. A clash of both sides, which is really, quite cool.

Japanese examinations over now, and I am so happy-- although I think having examinations for third language totally killed off the joy of learning, although it did push me to learn. 

NYES-- Autumn version

I did this on muro and also during ICT, using photoshop. I feel like I've got a power. A power that I've recently acquired after learning how to create text effects. Photoshop, although sometimes you may be a jerk.

Thank you for that power.

I love that power. 

((only when I'm using it))

From this point on-wards, it's going to be long. So click at your own risk. Woah, another long post.

photo spam

hahahahah LOON LOOK I HAVE MY PHOTOSHOP ASSIGNMENT TOO OH YAY IT IS HORRIBLY DONE BUT LOOK DO I CARE.

actually I do.

So yeah. Most of it was all about ES but then I gave up because. 

Well. I don't really know but that part about stars.

the stars say I have to draw today and so I did.

I drew something out of proportion and I hope no one noticed it.

Oh who am I kidding.

The second picture probably sounds wrong but anyway.

It was when we were highing together sometime ago...

I think.

She murmurs a short chant, trying to warm his tensed, stiff and cold body.

"I'll let you be Sherlock next time. I'll let you be Sherlock-"

-bang-

and the world collapsed, in front of her eyes as scarlet coloured his face and head and every-

"I'll let you be Sherlock- please."

She looks into the eyes of his murderer, only to hear-

"It had to be done."

"NO- YOU DON'T-HE WASN'T GOING TO CHANGE- HE WAS ALL FINE YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO THIS- I- I wanted to let him be Sherlock for once-" 

and she falls, down into this bottomless pit of memories and every single word she utters when he begs to be Sherlock.

'Now's not the time. I've got work-'

'Everything's fine, you know. There're no mysteries-'

'You know you're not- not as observant as Sherlock Holmes.'

'He's not real.'

'You've got work to do.'

'Not now, NOT NOW!'

"M-mom, can I be Sherl-Sherlock- now." she thinks she hears this from his cracked lips and she can only nod, cradling her fallen angel in her arms.

"Yes-yes-Sherlock. I'll let you be Sherlock-"

the pencil is mightier than the charcoal. still.

i've been drawing a lot recently and i suspect i'm going through some kinda phase.

first it was folding stars, then the paper flowers and then the hearts.
And now it's the stars. again.

what is with me and folding papery stuff now.
idek exactly.

but back to the topic. i'm drawing. a lot. and that's not exactly good. because well. it kinda eats into my time and when i start drawing i can't really stop.

after eoys i'm going on a drawing spree. whee.
but anyway.

yeah. so i've 'designed' the dresses for the "if (cca) were to be a dress" album. so far--

2 ES dresses (but the first design was crappy)
1 Modern Dance dress
1 String Ensemble dress

i think i might do the Chinese Dance dress if. well. if there's really a spare period when the teacher's not exactly talking about the point at hand. or maybe another ES dress.
it's fun, but sometimes you can get stuck because you don't really know about that cca but still, it's your general impression of it anyway.

yeah. and i don't really want to waste my sketch book's pages by randomly doodling. so well. i'm trying out a more shading kinda style.

yeah i know how this sounds so ridiculous, especially when i've got eoys around me and all.

but anyway i like pencils. sure, charcoal is good for shading, but pencil is neater and more available and i've not really used charcoal before but i think it's rather hard to erase? so you have to- like- be very decisive on what you want to draw and stuff. and besides, freshly sharpened pencils smell a little like books but more... how do you say it. nice. well. it's just a kinda metallic crisp argh i don't know how to describe it.

yeah. pencils are beautiful.

my mom is really irritating sometimes even though i try to tolerate her, you know. i mean, idek why but it's like she's intent on making me do things i don't wanna do and i try to be nice and speak all gently but yeah and then she gets too sensitive and say that i hurt her when she's said more hurting phrases to me but.

pencils.
and then loon introduced this website of many, many beautiful words so i thought.
well.
dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com
it's full of words.
beautiful words.

if being a nerd means being in love with words then-
oh of course i am a nerd whaddya think i was.

so there.

Emoticons :D :3 :O :( :)

as I promised.
Emoticons.
I tried not to rant--but there wasn't really much to rant about, except studies but that's really boooring.
because YOU STARE AT THE NOTES AND THE NOTES DON'T STARE BACK.
how rude.
okay, maybe they stare back but-
ahem.
onto the topic!
mooooove along, children! Mooooooove along!

[disclaimer: this post is just my own opinion, kay]

"CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT'S GOING ON?" -proper blog post-

this is not a rant.
despite how the title seems to suggest it.
...
this is me ----->                                             ~~(^w^)~~



and this is the point -----> .

...
derp.
Observations my friends and family have made about me recently:

• "You seem to be more nice and blunt but sweet when you're tired. Like, when you can't give a damn about anything, and you start talking rubbish and about unicorns. Yeah, that's when you're at your fluffiest and sweetest and bluntest. But when you're high on sugar, you're just. KABOOM. And when you're low, extremely low and frustrated, you get all sarcastic and bitchy and your hand always go and sweep your fringe up your forehead. And when you're talking to people you don't like, you always make an effort to be civil. That's weird."
• "You've grown taller."
• "You're more... talkative and more emotional?"
• "You've changed."
• "You'd be more likely to be a murderer that kills on instinct when you get really angry."
• "You're a nice crazy."
• "Don't worry. You're still as short."
• "potatoed!"

Okay that was weird. 

HCNY bookclub wasn't really that productive. But at least-well, at least it gave me something to talk about.

Unicorns. British Unicorns are smokin' hot, hence your argument is invalid.

...

and about Utopia and Dystopia.

It's really, all about perceptions. But if everyone had different perceptions (well, we all do.), then doesn't it mean we should all have, like a country each or idek, maybe there will be no countries? But even so, it wouldn't work out anyway.

That means that there's no perfect society anyway and if we're looking for perfect, it would be up to our own definition, so that means we have to have our own alternate universes? Well, that's a little complicated--and wouldn't we have to be alone? That's not happy.

So talking about being happy--setting that as the main quality of an Utopian society... well, we talked about serial killers being happy killing people but people not being happy being killed. So it still wouldn't be a Utopia. 

... I suppose.

I mean, you can't get everyone to be happy, right? And it's not up to you to decide what's right and wrong, unless you're saying what is wrong is to be mean or hurt people's feelings, but some people feel happy to hurt other people and you're not being fair to them by limiting them--you're hurting the minority after all, right?

...that's really weird. 

And you want people to live in a society where everyone is different because that's how we all are, and you don't want like, a situation in The Giver because well, it's not fair for people--they don't get to experience emotions, what makes them humane.

It'll be like a group of robots, won't it?

...

Well, either way, you're going to have a group of people to control every single thing and deem it as right or wrong and you have no choice because

1. they stole your country (steal a little and they call you thief. Steal a lot and they call you king)
2. you voted for them
3. you were born here. And apparently if you dare to even voice out, you die.
4. you can't do anything better either way.

politics is freaking messy.

here have a waffle-cake it'll make everything better i hope.

                 

               {#}

         {#} {#} {#}

      {#} {#} {#} {#} 

   {#} {#} {#} {#} {#} 

{#} {#} {#} {#} {#} {#}

people think i've changed. i haven't. they just didn't know me.

hell, i don't even know myself.

Loon are you reading this? Kimberlala says tennis ball loves all of us and would really appreciate it deep down in her heart if we hugged her. ._. no.

Next blog post (scheduled), but may be intercepted by something else: emoticons. 

Peiphone

"Peiphone" 

Original version by Maroon 5

I am a Peiphone,

Trying to call home, 

All of my change you stole from me.

Where are my pennies,

My hard-earned pennies,

Where are the plans made for Hawaii? 

If British unicorns did not exist,

I would have my pennies back with me.

All the treasuries are full of it,

I just want my pennies back for me.

If I had my pennies~

I have again fallen to the prey of muro drawing.
WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE AT ONE AM DRAWING CCA RELATED STUFF THAT ISN'T EVEN GOING TO GO ANYWHERE.
...
oh wait I still have to photoshop it.
...
._.
kthbai will do physics.

This. IS NOT A RANT :D HOORAY

lots of things crashing down on me recently.

I'll promise-- this won't be a rant. I should start on a legitimate blog post.

I have EOY so I have to study. And at the same time I've got inspiration for a work in Chinese. CHINESE.
It's really rare that I get such inspiration for Chinese. Seeing how I'm not so fluent in it anyway.
But I really got it and I'm afraid of letting it go away. Like, just vanish up into last gasps of the burning cigarette.
Idek.

It's about dreams, and I think I'll just be writing about a girl

• has a talent (like most other main characters. duh.) for drawing and she loves drawing (she wants to be an artist, but such a career is frowned upon) but she can't really afford to draw and has to study really hard for scholarships because she...
• comes from a broken family. Her father is nowhere to be found, her mother suffers from an illness.
• Mother dies, she breaks down, but mother left something
• "go find your father. Tell him the dream has not died yet. Tell him that in the end, dreams never die. That even though we never see our dreams, they're still there. They're still alive. They're still there, in the end."
• she goes on an adventure, through a portal--like it just brings her away from reality.
• aaaaand. she meets this strange creature and she goes on with it, because she wants to and she can't turn back any longer.
• along the way she realises she can't draw--everything is forced and it just doesn't work.
• the ending is still... kinda. undecided. :)

I'll post it on the other blog for Chinese if I can. 

yeah.

okay :D

no rants.

just nice, fluffy stuff.

I think I did something with my facebook while I was high on coffee just now--thirty minutes ago, but I can't remember.

And I can't access facebook for some reason.

ohkay.

I'm starting to panic. What did I do now-

yeah. thanks dad. whatever. pencil's chipped off. [rant]

Dad.

You know about my email password and even my blog url. What the shit is wrong with you to want to know about my facebook password as well? I have tried to be tolerant, trying to reason with myself that you only care for me and are afraid that I might do some wrong things on the internet like go threaten the Minister of Education or something similar. Similarly stupid. I tried to understand, I seriously did.

I mean, I'm okay with you getting into my email just to check if there's any urgent message. Correction: I'm not even okay with that, you know. It's an invasion of privacy. And that's something I really need at this stage of my teenage life. What the heck. Even my other classmates don't have their parents knowing their password and stuff. You should be glad I'm not out there skipping school or getting drugs into my system or even getting myself pregnant. I'm not. And I'm trying my bestest to do well in my studies.

I don't even like to swear. The only swear words I use are probably 'shit' and 'damn' or some random classy English word to cover up my anger. I know I'm not good enough, not as nice and sweet as my sister but for goodness sake, can't you respect the fact that everyone is different?

My facebook has a lot of things--many different connections with people I know. There are groups which may be slightly weird with all my friends and I DON'T WANT you looking into that because it's a private part of me--not so private but I treat it this way. And I don't want you to judge my friends. The last time was bad enough and you tried to tell me to get away from my friend. Who just swore a little. And you were all boom about it you know.

I have my own friends. 

I know enough. I KNOW who is at least, good or bad. You're not going to give me some crap--oh, here's another curse, would you like to scramble over and holler at me for cursing again?-- about how ignorant I am.

The whole world is ignorant. What right have you to deem yourself as experienced, smart, all-knowing while I am just some kid who doesn't know better.

Even adults don't know any better.

Look at uncle. He went and got his money off to somewhere no one even knows and he acts like he's mentally sick or overly stressed by such financial issues because he just wants people to sympathise and pay for him. It happened last year. It's happening again.

You gossip all about him and try to deduce where his money has gone but when I say something, I don't know, like "well that sounds really wrong of him".

And you go all how we must respect our seniors and that crap shit thing.

If he really went to gamble and is faking all these crap up to bug us and my poor grandma, I don't give a damn whether he's my senior. What he is doing is wrong and he's even abusing my cute, poor grandma who I love so much.

Back to the topic. 

Are you unable to trust me? Are you trying to say that I'm probably up to some bad stuff online on facebook because I'm a kid? You don't even know me. And all that problem, when you point to some random "indecent" stuff on my timeline or activity log and demand what's wrong with me and then ground me or something I don't care.

All the content I post online are usually free of any swear words. Free of any threats. Free of any personal info unless it's those kind of media platforms like facebook.

I know you're only trying to care for me but this is getting too far.
Too far for me.

I know you're probably going to break into that great long lecture about how us children HAVE NO RIGHTS WHILE WE'RE UNDER 18 AND UNDER YOUR ROOF

and as long as you're my parent, you have full control over whatever I am doing.

I don't.
I'm tired out, already.
I'm really sick of all this crapshitdamned things.
I'm already tired out by whatever crap--
WILL YOU STOP COMPARING ME TO MY SISTER WE'RE DIFFERENT PEOPLE PLEASE I'M TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CRY.

I'll try to get all As for EOY.
thanks for all that care. not.

Stalker Diaries 4

((seriously though. I hate the name. asdfghjkl;'))

Here it begins.
Again.
Okay I don't care no more editing for me I am tired of editing through stuff.
nuff said.

rantrantrant that weed in your garden. GTFO

potating potatoes potate.

new record broken. oh wait what? no politically-correct statements at 4am please.

warning this post is asdfghjkl and written when i was hzul.cjsgrkhfksdghnsdjvgahifgqueshkdf in my brain.
do not proceed.

Competition! How exciting!... yeah, yeah. SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS

This ^ is how I'm probably going to look like after tomorrow's competition.

Imagine! The fun!

The excitement!

The getting-screwed-all-over-again-and-again.

._.

Well.

I don't know, I've been trying my best, prepping for it the past few days and trying my best at newspaper writing... It doesn't really work, you know.

I think.

So here I am, trying to calm myself down--who knew English Society had competitions! This is like, more for Infocomm club, but with the writing factor, that is. Only thing is that they seem to appreciate the design factor more. Not really complaining. 

But the thing is, not sleeping for 24 hours straight (we can have different--like, take turns to sleep but--)

We'll be working through the night and to be honest, I don't think we really stand a chance against those other schools, but I think that we'll try to clinch a writing award! It's the best we can do. 

I think.

Well, I'mma try and sleep early

AND IT ISN'T HELPING WITH MY HOMEWORK DOUCHE BAGS.

I HAVE HOMEWORK

THIS ISN'T A HOLIDAY

ASDFGHJKL;'

NOT FUN.

NOT FAIR.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

okay I'll try to enjoy it and then maybe I'll blog about this.

considering I don't die.

Poetry slam 'speech'

The speech below may be a little offensive for some people, so I'm just going to put a line break for those people who are too sensitive to things. Thanks.

You have been warned.

hey, i forgot which update i am at. that's all for now--"you little liar."

you promise to keep in touch.
the letters still come by
and even though they do, they start out
endearing and so lively
but end up so dull, a boring narrative of what you just ate
because whatever that's happened to you--
"they can't get it anyway."
and the length shortens until
it completely disappears
and fades into a corner of 'deleted posts' in your inbox.

you promised you'd keep in touch.
you promised.
and you broke it. 

just trying something out here.

You know what.
I don't think it even works.

look at the stars, see how they shine for you.

Reading the horoscope for fun (the one in the newspapers) and laughing at how horrible it sounds, while feeling a secret pang of -- I don't know--guilt?
Because it seems like it's happening.

I'm not one to beleaf in horoscopes, only reading them for fun, but it's scaring me how familiar it seems. Maybe it's because it's a really general viewpoint?

• easily irritated
• having relationship problems
• confused
• health related problems

... derp.

I don't know. It sounds really negative. Maybe it only sounds familiar because I'm picking out what's in my life to compare to it. And thus it seems really true? Or a big part of my life?

It's interesting how they can make people beleaf in these things by just writing down some stuff. Do they read the stars? Or how? But then again. A star could have died already?

I mean that shooting stars are like a million years dead. I read it somewhere.

It's so interesting to read the horoscope. I don't really think I'm like a Cancer. Maybe a Gemini. But a Cancer sounds too... dead. Or too sensible. /shrugs

 

Let's see.

I'm supposed to be:

• Shrewd and cautious
• Moody all the time (more of mood swing, though)
• Have a vivid imagination
• shy. ._.
• Sentimental. (Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side! :O)
• Protective
• Intuitive (?!)
• Clingy (This, I admit. I cling onto people randomly.)
• Emotional

Mkay. 

Oh yay! I rule over silvery blue. That's a nice colour.

Wait lemme search it up. Oh my, that is a pretty colour!

And I rule over the pearl, water lilies, lilies, white roses and the acanthus. 

That's a nice flower. It looks... like corn. But purple. Purple corn. 

I rule over the Moon and the crab. Ooh. Crab. 

This is so... interesting. It might be fun to read up on my horoscope.

After EOYs. 

I shall have to mug TT^TT

no i don't want to mug. mugging is a criminal offence. 

I'm fine--really. I'm okay. I'm just--yeah.

I'm fine, really. Sorry for scaring everyone during CCA.

I just don't take well whenever it rains. I suspect it's the rain, you know. Every time it rains, I get extreme, like bi-polar. That's not the reason, though. I know it's not the rain.

Yeah. I'm just a little bi-polar. It goes way more than that.

I'm sorry, really, if I've made all of you worried. I'm not angry at you. You guys are too nice to be angry at. I'm angry at myself. 

You know, the story challenge really takes its toll on me and every time after it, I get tired. Like, emotionally tired. I hate it, you know. But it's not the only thing adding to my emotional numbness.

I'm alright--I'm really fine. Seriously! You don't have to worry, even though the hugs were really nice. I'm okay. I'm just--I think it's just the weather. I'm scared that I'll go back to slight depression again. I don't want to.

The batch tee is just--can we wait till after EOY? Because--like Eilun/someone else says, we can't really do much and I think it's better to like, study for EOY first-- to concentrate on it first. I don't need a second source of frustration, anyway.

So there. It's alright, kay :) thanks for all your concern. I didn't want to bother you. I'll try to keep my emotions in check next time.

I think the batch tee is pulling us apart.
Instead of 'unifying' all of us.

one-shot on Johnlock~ :D

I should be getting on with exhibition research and crap but I'm not in the mood to examine every single line of Edgar Allan Poe's lovely scholarly poem.

Chews on mango pudding.
I like pudding.

Now I shall gather something from my !nspiration box!
And hopefully it won't be crap.

Conditions:
"Everything linked up to one big shit of a mistake"

... how emo was I when I wrote this condition.

HERE IS BEGINS!~~~~~~~ warning: ANGST, JOHNLOCK (slight hints of homosexuality)

Interesting convo with dad againnnnn. "TREES HAVE NO BRAINS."

Me: So there, I'm just an ignorant, stupid, immature teenager who knows nothing~

Dad: You're not immature.

Me: I'm mature?

Dad: No.

Me: Well--it would actually depend on your definition of 'mature'.

Dad: What do you think it means?

Me: ... well, acting beyond your age and being able to think sensibly, make decisions and judgments  responsibly for yourself...? I suppose it's kinda like thinking more and analysing things carefully--having foresight and all that.

Dad: No. 'Mature' actually means being able to 'understand'.

Me:... Then no one on this Earth is 'matured' because nobody can actually fully understand everyone--it's pretty exhausting and tiring. Furthermore, humans are self-centered and think of themselves only. As much as they want to think of other people and help the greater good, it's pretty much impossible to be mature, right, I mean-- they'll start thinking of themselves. Even Gandhi. Although he goes on all those hunger strikes and--

Dad: Do you know about Gandhi and what he did? He was on the train and one of his shoe dropped, so he threw the other off the train. When people asked him why--he said it was because since one of his shoe dropped into the tracks, and he could retrieve it--

Me: He threw the other so that someone may be able to get a pair of shoes.

Dad: Yeah. So, that shows him being able to understand things in a larger picture. That's what being mature is about. Being able to understand things in a larger picture.

Me: But that's rather impossible, isn't it? I mean, you can't always be understanding and all--it gets tiring--

Dad: Look at the trees. They bend towards the sunlight and don't get twisted with each other too much because they understand that it's bad to actually block other plants.

Me:... that's a whole different thing. Understanding requires a brain to facilitate that emotion. Or thinking. And we all know that trees don't have brains--

Dad: But they're able to live. There must be something to actually make them able to take in water through the roots and besides, look, they rarely get entangled with other branches, so there must be some kind of like a CPU to control it--

Me: Trees have no brains, right--

Dad: But there must--

Me: TREES HAVE NO BRAINS.

Dad: There could be some kind of a similar--

Me: We all know that trees don't have brains. When you cut down a tree it doesn't exactly bleed--

Dad: It does. The leakage from--

Me: That's the water in the xylem tube. AAAND, when you cut down a tree, you can't find its brain--

Dad: It has a memBRAIN.

Me: That's in the cell--

Dad: And it has a wall--

Me: We're talking about brains here. So TREES HAVE NO BRAINS.

Dad: MemBRAIN.

Me: But it doesn't have a HUMAN brain to actually make it able to understand, right? So it--

Dad: No--

Me: TREES HAVE NO BRAINS.

Dad: but--

Me: DAD TREES DON'T HAVE BRAINS. ROAR.

Dad: but like the CPUs in computers--

Me: DON'T TRY TO DIVERT THE TOPIC. WE'RE TALKING ABOUT TREES AND COMPUTERS AREN'T ALIVE.

...but anyway. Trees don't have-- HUMAN OR ANIMAL brains, right?

Dad: ... /nods/

Me: So there. Trees have no brains to facilitate the 'understanding' of maturity! ... what were we talking about...

And after a long while, we finally came to the conclusion that no one on the world was mature and that trees had no HUMAN brains. So trees aren't mature. And to tell the truth, maturity is overrated.

And kinda had this idea that there was a logic bubble surrounding all of us ( I read a book about something of similar content) and that everyone's logic was only based on what we had experienced--the emotions, the memories and lessons we were taught. In the logic bubble, everyone has their own individual set of logic (like DNA) so actually, there was no actual correct logic to anything. But in our textbooks, there was something that said logic = rule.
Which was wrong, since logic was based on the majority and it would be really unfair to actually have a set of rules for what was right and what was wrong--there are no rights and wrongs in thinking.

"DAD, TREES DON'T HAVE BRAINS."

Dearest teacher.

Dearest teacher,

I'm going to write this in a civilised manner, hopefully without any agitation or any form of rudeness.
I will respect you because you are a human, that and you are my teacher. [And supposedly with more experience than me]

Your lessons are interesting in one way or the other, but this has gotten too far (for me). It started during the musical week, when I was wearing the grey jacket (that I had worn since the first few months of the year) and you told me that it wasn't really good to wear jackets on such a hot day. However, for me, it was not hot at all. It was alright for me, seeing as I was already used to the heat. I just shrugged and took off my jacket, because after all you were the senior and you [were supposed to] have more experience than me after all. I was fine with or without my jacket, but I preferred my jacket.

I think that was when it all started.

I continued to wear my grey jacket, and every time you came into class, you would tell me to take off the jacket. I would, because I didn't want to get into any trouble.

And then it turned back to the normal timetable, in the morning.
I still wore my jacket.
And you still told me it wasn't good for me to wear my jacket.

And today was when you triggered everything.
You made me so angry--so agitated and annoyed.
The last time a teacher made me feel that was in primary two.
And I was burning internally.

You said to do something about the jacket, but I insisted that I was fine and it was just in the morning, and that I had enough sense to actually take my jacket off if I felt hot. But you just stood there, at the door. And then you started saying things to the whole class about 'resilience' and how we had to be 'resilient' and that I would not be able to survive in colder countries in the future if I kept wearing my jacket in such a hot climate.

I took off my jacket, just to make you leave. Because I was literally burning with rage or even annoyance.

What is resilient?
It means to be able to recover quickly from difficult conditions.

May I ask, what does being able to 'recover quickly from difficult conditions' have anything to do with my wearing a jacket on a normal day because I felt like it? Were you trying to say that I had to break off from my comfort zone? It seems highly exaggerated to say that the jacket I was wearing on a daily basis was my comfort zone. Were you suggesting that without my jacket, I was in a 'difficult' situation? If you were trying to insinuate that--how could you assume such things? I certainly do remember taking the jacket off myself on several (often, I would think) occasions, all without any prompt from you.

Couldn't you--excuse my crudeness-- differentiate between 'resilient' and 'personal preference'?

Resilience is a quality found on the inner side (of the mind and emotions), not of the outer body. It is like fear, totally mental. What had it to do with my wearing a jacket? That, I still do not get.

And why do you have to force your thoughts on me? You were advising me not to wear my jacket because it was a little too hot in this climate. I accepted your advice and took it in good heed.

However, I do believe that it was up to me whether to act on the advice.

What you did not have to do (completely unnecessary) : force me to take off my jacket.

I can survive without my jacket. Also, regarding that point about not being able to survive in cold climates--excuse me, ridiculous!

Oh, so because I am wearing a short-sleeved jacket, I will not be able to survive in colder climates? Do you honestly reckon that I would wear sleeveless in a freezing temperature of minus three degrees? No. I would have to wear a big coat or even a windbreaker. And hence that point--is totally redundant. Furthermore, the human body adapts pretty well to any environment, hence I am certain I will not collapse and die upon reaching a country of a cold climate.

Furthermore, the only chances I will probably get to visit a country would probably be during the global classroom programme. During which I am sure, my host or the teachers will not allow me to go around skipping in singlets or even normal clothings outside the buildings--especially not when there is a storm. If I were to be trapped in a snow storm, I would lose my life immediately regardless of whether I am used to wearing a jacket and keeping warm, because snow storms are dangerous.

You are human, despite how much longer you have lived than me. And I do understand that we need mutual respect. So please do respect my preference and wishes to actually decide for myself whether to act on that piece of advice you've given me.

Please stop forcing me to take off my jacket.
It's already making me frustrated with you--furthermore what with you claiming homosexuality is wrong. (even though that is a totally different matter)

And I have one last poem for you.

Ironic little classroom

The teacher sits and enjoys
tea in class(room!)
while jotting down rules that
aren't too 'hard' for
'responsible, matured children' like
us--tiny, wide-eyed litle
kids stuck in big,
starchy uniforms and our
skirts almost reaching our feet.
'No eating, drinking or
Running or engaging (it's a new word I'll have to remember!)
in conversations during lessons--
And no phones...' the list
drags on to form tiny
question marks that float
above our little nodding heads.
'Sweep the floor, clean the
teacher's table--' that's our duty
rooster (or roster?) that clucks at us
every single day.
'And clean your table! It's yours--'
'And the teacher's table is getting dusty--'
Ironic (like spoons?) that they don't
care much for their own tables--
'Don't damage your tables! They're school property!'
Oh, now the school has marked
'my' table as theirs (And my chair!)
Lessons taught always differ from
each other--
From 'mutual respect, everyone is equal!'
To 'you shouldn't talk back to me! Apologise!'
When we're just sweetly asking (without
any co-no-ta-tions)
'Why are you using your phone, teacher?'
And in this pin-drop silence,
I fiddle with my speech cards--
And the teacher's leaning against the door,
checking her phone again and
murmuring under her breath to the
teacher next to her.
They share a laugh but
There's no one to call their names (and make them stand)
or even a glare.
'It's rude,' they say.

Yours,
a little ignorant, irritating, idiotic child who knows nothing at all. Oh, and wears a grey jacket.

I'm getting real tired of your crap. And you too. #rant

updates! :D

Correction. We're going to have a new exhibition.
In October.
:D

that sounds mightily fun, doesn't it?
I think the whole reading group (or what's left of it anyway) is really excited!
-well, I think we are!-

Let's make it pretty! Prettier than our previous one! :D

Yay!
I shall go read up on materials.

HCNY bookclub T4Wk1.

...
sigh.
I don't really like them anyway.

Why? Because waffles. But potatoes. Therefore tomatoes and oranges shall kiss.

I have to stop this.
Stop being so emo.
I'mma be happy and fluffy and fluffinate the world.
The ES jacket is really fluffy.

I shall have to be happy.
I will be happy.
:D
I shall smile. Because I know-
that I'm fortunate to be able to even smile.

And I shall smile.
Hopefully someone else will smile too.

rant.

you don't want to read this. run. now.
before. it's. too. late.

Today was April's fool. Silly girl.

Four poems, each a lie.

((words are like ethanol.
teasingly so-
and then once they're done flirting with you,
they go away.
evaporate, leaving no traces behind-
not at all.))

and in the end
we're all april's fool.
trapped in the summer heat-(or is it spring,autumn, winter)
jumping around in imaginary seasons
that put a slight spring (spring!) to our steps
and yet the heat presses down on us again.

time gently accentuates our features-
painting blemishes and little etchings over
our faces and
arms and
beautiful varicose legs and
our whitened--frizzy hair.

and in the end
we're nothing but white
white bones that break and
creak under
pressure of gravity.
-and under ground too-