"Time to throw away your cares," says Elvis in the morning.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sunday, 27th March 2011
Another addition to my list of places to visit- Russia. I guess I'd always thought of it as a royal country, I've always known it to be one of the largest in the world. My first exposure to it was while watching "Anastasia" in the early years of my teens. That's also where I discovered that I really like the name Dimitri. Photographs of Russia seem so breath-taking now. Everything looks so grand, from streetlamps to palaces. I would have no qualms about living there if it weren't for the language. I would live at so many places- from Vienna to Greece, if it weren't for the languages. Life would be so much easier if everyone were to just speak one language. Well, anyway, I've just finished two supp papers. Turned out I was right about having to take them, because I felt terrible after the Maths 2 and Immunology papers. Studied real hard this time, and got absolutely no help from anyone, so I hope I did all right. I'm never sure if my answers are correct in Maths, but I hope I'll clear them both by far.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sunday, 13th March 2011
She has a beauty that no one else seems to see.
She kind of reminds me of Audrey, in a way.
The same strange beauty through my eyes.
She kind of reminds me of Audrey, in a way.
The same strange beauty through my eyes.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Saturday, 12th March 2011
I think I'm a little bit slow, but I just found out about the Tsunami that hit Japan yesterday.
This is what I get for refusing to read the newspapers. It always strikes me as a tiresome compilation of political articles, and of the views of people which I don't really care about. It's like "Stomp", where people don't have anything better to do than nitpick about something unimportant.
Anyway, just wanted to say, if I die suddenly anytime soon, thanks to you guys for reading my blog. It's something that has stayed with me for many years now, and my teenage life is forever immortalised on the internet. Maybe some aliens will find it and idolise me or something, you know?
It was pretty scary watching the video footage of the tsunami hitting Japan. It gobbled the land up like a biscuit, and the cars were still running on the roads when they got swallowed up by the water. I feel so terrible for those people, and I know it won't be long before it hits close to home.
So, thanks guys. If I live, I'll continue to blog. If I die, well, then, farewell.
For what it's worth, I love you guys :)
This is what I get for refusing to read the newspapers. It always strikes me as a tiresome compilation of political articles, and of the views of people which I don't really care about. It's like "Stomp", where people don't have anything better to do than nitpick about something unimportant.
Anyway, just wanted to say, if I die suddenly anytime soon, thanks to you guys for reading my blog. It's something that has stayed with me for many years now, and my teenage life is forever immortalised on the internet. Maybe some aliens will find it and idolise me or something, you know?
It was pretty scary watching the video footage of the tsunami hitting Japan. It gobbled the land up like a biscuit, and the cars were still running on the roads when they got swallowed up by the water. I feel so terrible for those people, and I know it won't be long before it hits close to home.
So, thanks guys. If I live, I'll continue to blog. If I die, well, then, farewell.
For what it's worth, I love you guys :)
Friday, March 11, 2011
Friday, 11th March 2011
Just had a nightmare but everyone's busy.
Honey isn't picking up his phone, Glenn's at work, Vanessa's at attachment, Sya's probably out having fun somewhere.
I'm all alone again.
Dreamt that I was in this hostel-like event where my whole choir was, and I wanted to take a shower. Suddenly this unknown creepy guy (whom, I think, looked a bit like Edgar Allan Poe) came into the bathroom and stood there, refusing to move. I begged Honey to ask him to leave so I could shower, but Honey ignored me and joined the rest of the choir in cheering for something outside the window. It may have been some sort of kite-flying event.
I was upset, and went around looking for another bathroom, only to be followed by the creepy guy, who planted himself at the other bathroom too. Exasperated, I gave up on the idea of showering and joined the others.
The next thing I knew, Honey grabbed me and ran. I asked him where we were going, and he said, "to the ocean," and continued running. He said that we were going to stay in the water for a while until the "whole thing blew over", whatever it was. He suddenly stopped to stab a man repeatedly on the sidewalk, and laughed while he pulled me along and continued running towards the ocean. We ran and ran, and I remember being stupefied that he stabbed a man, and when I asked him why, he said it was for fun.
We ran and ran until we reached the water, and I had a float around me. We bobbed up and down on the surface, waiting for the days to pass.
Strange that I had such a dream. I felt rather depressed after.
Anyway, out with Glenn yesterday, I made a spontaneous decision to buy a book by Edgar Allan Poe. It was rather cheaply priced at $4.80, so what the heck, I gave it a shot. It seemed interesting enough, titled "Spirits of the Dead: tales and poems". I did some research on the author himself, and he looked a bit pained in all of his portraits, although displaying a rather trademark smirk at every sitting.
I opened the book last night, and fell instantly in love. I don't know what it is about classic literature, but I enjoy every moment of it. This morning, after listening to the ringing-tone of Honey's phone for too long, I picked up the book again, and read a poem.
It spoke to me.
"I have been happy, tho' in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known."
Honey isn't picking up his phone, Glenn's at work, Vanessa's at attachment, Sya's probably out having fun somewhere.
I'm all alone again.
Dreamt that I was in this hostel-like event where my whole choir was, and I wanted to take a shower. Suddenly this unknown creepy guy (whom, I think, looked a bit like Edgar Allan Poe) came into the bathroom and stood there, refusing to move. I begged Honey to ask him to leave so I could shower, but Honey ignored me and joined the rest of the choir in cheering for something outside the window. It may have been some sort of kite-flying event.
I was upset, and went around looking for another bathroom, only to be followed by the creepy guy, who planted himself at the other bathroom too. Exasperated, I gave up on the idea of showering and joined the others.
The next thing I knew, Honey grabbed me and ran. I asked him where we were going, and he said, "to the ocean," and continued running. He said that we were going to stay in the water for a while until the "whole thing blew over", whatever it was. He suddenly stopped to stab a man repeatedly on the sidewalk, and laughed while he pulled me along and continued running towards the ocean. We ran and ran, and I remember being stupefied that he stabbed a man, and when I asked him why, he said it was for fun.
We ran and ran until we reached the water, and I had a float around me. We bobbed up and down on the surface, waiting for the days to pass.
Strange that I had such a dream. I felt rather depressed after.
Anyway, out with Glenn yesterday, I made a spontaneous decision to buy a book by Edgar Allan Poe. It was rather cheaply priced at $4.80, so what the heck, I gave it a shot. It seemed interesting enough, titled "Spirits of the Dead: tales and poems". I did some research on the author himself, and he looked a bit pained in all of his portraits, although displaying a rather trademark smirk at every sitting.
I opened the book last night, and fell instantly in love. I don't know what it is about classic literature, but I enjoy every moment of it. This morning, after listening to the ringing-tone of Honey's phone for too long, I picked up the book again, and read a poem.
It spoke to me.
"I have been happy, tho' in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known."
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Saturday, 5th March 2011
He'd seen them, whispering quietly in the shadows, giggling whenever he looked over. They had been around for as long as he could remember, always smiling, always so carefree. The feathers stood out proudly on their backs, tickling their necks playfully.
He'd often wondered if he could, perhaps, one day grow his own wings, but he knew they were different. They weren't like Mr Charlie the carpenter, or Mrs Patts the baker. Whenever he caught a glimpse of them as a child, he would marvel at their wings to his mother, but she just frowned, creases forming between her eyes.
"You're too old for imaginary friends, sweetheart," she'd say, and he learnt overtime not to mention them anymore.
They flocked around him now, tickling him under his chin and continuing their incessant chatter, flitting around on feet that barely touched the ground. Eyes filled with wonder, their hands reached out to touch his hair, to prod at his skin, to stroke his worn-out clothes. With rosy cheeks above a smile, he held his arms out to them, and together they danced in the moonlight.
Every night after their joyful ritual, he would tread home with them trailing behind. Sometimes, they flew beside him, and only ever carried him once or twice. It would have been disastrous, had anyone been nearby to spot a boy floating six feet above the ground. He'd get home just when his dinner of stew and bread was being served. Sitting at the mahogany table with his mother, they would say Grace together before tucking in.
They tiptoed around the house, observing every painting, every wood-carving for the millionth time. His eyes followed them silently, obediently sipping his milk and chewing his bread. The beans always stopped steaming long before he finished.
There was not much to do after dinner; it was always too dark by then to go outside, and the house was bare, save for a pot above the fireplace, a table set and a hard bed. His mother had problems falling asleep with light, so the fire always had to be put out at bedtime. He would turn towards the open window to gaze at the moon, unable to fall asleep.
Time passed so slowly at those early hours of dawn, the pitch-dark blanket still covering the land asleep. His long black hair fell over lovely russet eyes, teeth just resting on his lower lip. He held his gaze on the majestic moon, never once faltering.
Feeling around in the dark for his stitched notebook and pencil, he wrote,
"Angels, ever bright and fair,
Take, oh, take me to your care."
4th March 2011
He'd often wondered if he could, perhaps, one day grow his own wings, but he knew they were different. They weren't like Mr Charlie the carpenter, or Mrs Patts the baker. Whenever he caught a glimpse of them as a child, he would marvel at their wings to his mother, but she just frowned, creases forming between her eyes.
"You're too old for imaginary friends, sweetheart," she'd say, and he learnt overtime not to mention them anymore.
They flocked around him now, tickling him under his chin and continuing their incessant chatter, flitting around on feet that barely touched the ground. Eyes filled with wonder, their hands reached out to touch his hair, to prod at his skin, to stroke his worn-out clothes. With rosy cheeks above a smile, he held his arms out to them, and together they danced in the moonlight.
Every night after their joyful ritual, he would tread home with them trailing behind. Sometimes, they flew beside him, and only ever carried him once or twice. It would have been disastrous, had anyone been nearby to spot a boy floating six feet above the ground. He'd get home just when his dinner of stew and bread was being served. Sitting at the mahogany table with his mother, they would say Grace together before tucking in.
They tiptoed around the house, observing every painting, every wood-carving for the millionth time. His eyes followed them silently, obediently sipping his milk and chewing his bread. The beans always stopped steaming long before he finished.
There was not much to do after dinner; it was always too dark by then to go outside, and the house was bare, save for a pot above the fireplace, a table set and a hard bed. His mother had problems falling asleep with light, so the fire always had to be put out at bedtime. He would turn towards the open window to gaze at the moon, unable to fall asleep.
Time passed so slowly at those early hours of dawn, the pitch-dark blanket still covering the land asleep. His long black hair fell over lovely russet eyes, teeth just resting on his lower lip. He held his gaze on the majestic moon, never once faltering.
Feeling around in the dark for his stitched notebook and pencil, he wrote,
"Angels, ever bright and fair,
Take, oh, take me to your care."
4th March 2011
Friday, March 04, 2011
Thursday, 3rd March 2011
My dear readers, I am back!
I've just been through a whole series of tests and exams, all strung together in a stressful lot! Basic Microbiology and Cell Biology went pretty well, but Maths and Immunology didn't go so well. I'm rather nervous about having to take the supplementary papers, but perhaps more for Immunology.
It was a bloody difficult paper.
I've been making the most of my time since my papers ended. I've written a story, met up with two friends and Honey, and slept for a long time! I also made a headband out of foam roses, and almost pricked myself to death because it was near 2 in the morning. Can't wait to start on my drawings again!
The past semester has been a rather enriching experience, actually. Apart from putting in consistent effort into my studies, I also got to take the cross-disciplinary subjects I wanted, and met some really nice people. French had very excited, happy girls, full of laughter and rainbows. Creative Writing yielded more quiet and creative types, which I found very interesting. It had always been rather awkward in comparison to French class.
I also got to know my wonderful French teacher, whose spirit I shall never forget. Her smile lit up the room just like her yellow jacket and her ladybug shoes. Her hair stuck out on end like it had never been combed, and it framed a face with pretty eyes. She's one of the more special people I'd ever met.
Her words to me were, "Are you ready, my butterfly?"
I've just been through a whole series of tests and exams, all strung together in a stressful lot! Basic Microbiology and Cell Biology went pretty well, but Maths and Immunology didn't go so well. I'm rather nervous about having to take the supplementary papers, but perhaps more for Immunology.
It was a bloody difficult paper.
I've been making the most of my time since my papers ended. I've written a story, met up with two friends and Honey, and slept for a long time! I also made a headband out of foam roses, and almost pricked myself to death because it was near 2 in the morning. Can't wait to start on my drawings again!
The past semester has been a rather enriching experience, actually. Apart from putting in consistent effort into my studies, I also got to take the cross-disciplinary subjects I wanted, and met some really nice people. French had very excited, happy girls, full of laughter and rainbows. Creative Writing yielded more quiet and creative types, which I found very interesting. It had always been rather awkward in comparison to French class.
I also got to know my wonderful French teacher, whose spirit I shall never forget. Her smile lit up the room just like her yellow jacket and her ladybug shoes. Her hair stuck out on end like it had never been combed, and it framed a face with pretty eyes. She's one of the more special people I'd ever met.
Her words to me were, "Are you ready, my butterfly?"
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