Post-it ノート: NYAN CAT. :D

Listening to Nyancat--the one hour version. I think I'll listen to it as I do my Math homework :D

Challenge accepted. Maybe I'll listen to the 10 hour one...
not.

Post-it ノート: notes to people and fluffies :D

AWWWW. 

Cute little ponies/llamas/ whatever they are.

I want to snuggle them~ *w*

Standing in a line, some of them have their heads high~

Samantha. 

I figured out your birthday. 14 July, right?

MUAHAHAHAHAHA.

Now I can bombard your class whiteboard on that day~

And give you something too~ :D

My lovely Honey-BEAR-dger :D

I wants to squish you!

And Alice,

Apologies, but you caught me when I was

At a state of hyperness and over fangirlingness

And you were the squishest thing I saw so--

AWW

I hope I didn't frighten you or anything. :D

Meggi, thanks for that marshmallow :D

Umm, Tennis ball... thanks for not appearing in my vision today...?

And 表姐, I know it was really, really sudden that I called you :D

And especially just to ask for Samantha's birthday :3 

Ohgosh I love you :D <3 for bearing with my randomness :D:D:D

And Clarinet, you never fail to make me laugh like siao. 

LOL, you guys :D

~O~

Dedicated to a Tennis ball

I just wrote a crappy song.
Crappy, but still.

This is dedicated to a tennis ball :D
...
...
...
To be sung to the tune of Friday(chorus) by Rebecca Black:

She's a tennis ball, tennis ball,
boing boing in the daylight.
like jellies, she wobbles--wobble boingboing wobble.
Tennis ball, tennis ball,
boing boing here and there~
Everywhere she's boing-ing,
here and there :D

________End of awesomeness__________

I know how awesome it is. Jerry, maybe we could write the whole song out :D
lalalalalala.

Oh, the tennis ball = the boxer

The Devil's poem

There is no hope in faith
nor a sparkling light within me.
I wait to seek not seven but eight
deadly sins that won't let us be.

Hope splayed out abstractly
like a splatter of blood--
thick, scarlet and oozing gladly,
the devil's touch within me flood.

Still awaiting the last man's grave
to heaven he flies
or hell, I crave.
Wither and flop, but leave no fear, no anguished cries.

But within darkness we seek--
far beyond the tender light
amongst the creatures so meek,
we turn upon a shamed flight.

Still there is no far worse sin,
of secret whispers and aching breaths.
My weathered, tattered skin--
take it, for it lives on, take it before he seeks you, Death.

"You do know the last sin, don't you?"
No.
"Oh, but it is so obvious."
To you, not me.
"Then let it be hope."
Hope?
"Hope."


_______________________________________________________________________________

I tried to make it rhyme :D
My leg hurts. TAT
I bet no one understands the poem! Do you? *adds pedo voice*
Try figuring it out, poor bananas :D
Especially you, Ellie :D
Because it was written with inspiration from Harry Potter~
Oh, shit. I still need to complete my monthly-challenge...

XD XD XD
Ollie

Musings-- WAFFLE THE WAY ALONG

Just read Tuesdays with Morrie.
Nice book, maybe.
Waffle, waffle, waffle.
Oh right, I have a bandage on my knee.
A white, evil bandage.
Ouch, it hurts.
Nao I can't lie on my stomach or it'll burn.
But on the other hand, my sis says it looks cool and hardcore and she feels like getting one too. That's how amazing I am~

Stupid bike, I should have never rode you. You of a sickening orange (and you just had to be my favourite colour!). Ouch, ouch, ouch.

And Tuesdays With Morrie says :

"The feel of those emotions, their texture, their moisture, the shiver down the back, the quick flash of heat that crosses your brain--then he was able to say, 'okay. This is fear. Step away from it. Step away.' "--Quoted, page 104-105

Oh, but seriously, when the pain comes on, it's too fast for you to be able to identify anything. The speed itself. *shudder* Ugh, my knee hurts, but I know it's just mentally. I'll still be able to jump, but it hurts. Sigh. painpainpain~ *whines on incessantly*
I mean, how can you accept Death so easily? It seems too much for me. To be able to think about it so clearly, vividly, that you feel at peace with Death?
Then again, I'm just like an empty container, not yet filled with experience.
I love the book.

The first page drew me in:

A lesson without grades, without books, taught from experience and not theory.
We're Tuesday people.

And they talk about more of life's lessons, how the rushing pace of people affects us and sub-cultures. How you shouldn't be pressured to conform because that's what the society wants you to believe: Women not skinny enough, men no rich enough, students with marks too low.
I wish I could believe and make my own sub-culture, but I'm stuck within the paradox of freewill and prejudice. The veil blinds me with letters, A, B, C, F. Different letters hold a certain impact, a shadow covering your character and personality, a cloak hiding your values.
Branded with the letters, some cower behind it, hoping not to meet discriminating stares while others hold theirs high enough, blocking what offensive remarks that may be made.
Every time I get an A, I don't feel happy. I feel relieved.

waffle waffle waffle.
the banana culture! :D

I read small bits of it along the way since primary school.
The first time, we did a comprehension on it, just a small extract. I read on and found it interesting, I thought it was a case study, a scientific study on illnesses.
I wanted to read more. But I didn't, because it became a dimmed light in my mind, faded to a cracking whisper.

The second time, I saw this quote "Don't let go too soon. But don't hang on too long" from Tuesdays with Morrie and I was enchanted. The book didn't seem like a scientific case study anymore. Perhaps a philosophical case study? But I didn't read it.

The third time, I was wandering about in a bookstore. My sister had vouchers :D so we were just looking around. We were deliberating over whether to buy The Hunger Games--trilogy but I spotted this small pocket book-- Tuesdays with Morrie. And I picked it up. I was going to read it, I was going to buy this intriguing little book. So we left the bookstore happily.

And you can tell what happened after this. I read it, and was surprised to find out that I liked it, although my dad found it too deep for people of my age. He expected me to buy something like The Hunger Games. And you know what? I'm glad I got this book, instead of missing out on it.

Not to say that it's necessarily better than The Hunger Games, but I like it. It's based on personal opinion, I suppose. I mean, the idea from the trilogy looks refreshing and interesting-- it somewhat attracted me. Ah :D

Don't miss it, peeps. It's really interesting :D And you'll never get sick of it :D

Post-it ノート: Waffle on the go :)

haiz, i has no brains...

just a waffled chip bit of my brain, which has totalliee no sense. 

we discussed (No ABOUT) poems on life and i wanted to go on and on and on and on forever and fangirl over its awesomeness, but people were getting distracted and such that it was weird if i were to continue to fawn over it in a corner. instead, i left my thoughts to myself.

i wish i could write such awesome poems. i wish, i wish, i wish.

___

life is a ticking, restless clockwork--

a kaleidoscope of hopes that fade into

warped images, they quirk 

into an alley, flying through.

 Past the memories that flicker

and twist into an oblivion of scattered

fireflies that smugly snicker

with knowledge of truths torn and tattered.

Against the merry-go-round

of thick, creamy webs of lies

that bond masks who astound 

the faded tattoo of love, beating symphonies of cries.

life is a waffle

of bits and pieces.

a puzzle to baffle,

of cracks and creases.

___

I tried to make it rhyme, I did! and the hardest part was to make it make sense.

Waffle on the go. 

Have a bite of dough.

SEEEE? it doesn't rhyme nor does it make sense, it never does ; - ; oh well,

cos i has no brains.

: D

tralalalalalalalalalalala

Ollieeeeeee :)

Penguins Attention! :)

Kimberally-- our Class Mascot :D:D:D It's so cuteeeee

This is the penguin I made, WITHOUT HANDS ^o^ And the carrot :D It looks pretty stupid, actually. But still, I'm naming it...

... 

...

The CARROT one :D

ZOMG :D PENGUINS ATTENTION, PENGUINS BEGIN~~~~~~! ;D

Acrophobia--Fear of Heights and a little waffle

An unbidden image arose in her mind.

A monochromatic world, the tiny dots that stained the canvas of her thoughts. They were so miniature, so small. She felt too big, looking down upon all of them. The ledge was reshaping, closing in into a compact area. So painfully tight, so painfully worrying. There was just a fleck of dust to stand on, but her weight was going to make it crack. She was going to fall. The mist clouded over her mind, tracing and retracing a single word that haunted her peace.

She felt her finger slide desperately, gliding across the air, cutting into the breeze swirling around her. Her fingers fumbled over the specks of dust that lolled around, drifting gleefully around the air, thick and lazy. Slender and pale, they opened and closed, as though trying to catch what little ray of glittering sunlight there was in her hands.There was nothing to hold on to, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.


She gasped, the contraction of her lungs, as though a hand had cupped over her throat and wrung the life out of her. It was hard to breathe, so hurtfully hard to breathe. It was impossible to suck in just one small gulp of air-- her muscles were losing control. Paralysed, in mid-air. Her heart thumped, palpitated, and threw itself countless times over the thick walls that was keeping it from escape.

escape-- what a sweet word.


Just one step back, back onto solid, firm ground. If only she could lift up the stumps of her legs, if only she could leap... The muscles in her fingers flexed. As she squinted over her shoulder, it was to her horror and its cheer that the ground was so far away. The gravel was inching away, increasing the distance between them.

There was an invisible feather upon her legs-- tickling them mercilessly with a mocking laugh. She was floating, held up by stronger forces, the wind whipping against her face. Their hands brushed past her bangs, pulling them back gently but firmly. They slid their cool fingers up and down her arms, gleefully asking,

"Can you see now? Can you?"

She shook her head, but all she could manage was a tilting of her head to the left, then right. There was nothing to see, even as her fear's hands peeled her eyes open and purred for her to see the world laid out beneath her. Her shoes, red and pointed, were huge. And she felt as though she was stomping on all those little atoms, splintered into single blocks of life, exploding and then reforming, the cycle of life repeating. She shifted her weight to the other foot, but then paused. What if she were to roll off and fall?

"I don't want to fall," she whispered in a muted prayer. "Don't, don't, don't let me fall. Someone. Someone."