I feel like I've lost a good friend.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, 29th November 2010
Nostalgia hit me like an eclair in the face- painful, but so comforting, so delicious, so loving.
I was having a really bad night, for some strange reason. Mood swings, maybe. Everybody just felt like assholes to me. I came home to search for stimuli for my Creative Writing class tomorrow, and shuffled through some of my favourite old music.
The pain was just washed away in an instant, and I was in heaven, blissful consciousness that was so lovely, floating on the back of seagulls that hover above the mirror-like surface of the dark waters. I was sucked back into the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, where the plague ran rampant but the music ripened in its own glory, and people held hands and danced the night away at little pubs till the dawn broke the deep violet sky.
I was having a really bad night, for some strange reason. Mood swings, maybe. Everybody just felt like assholes to me. I came home to search for stimuli for my Creative Writing class tomorrow, and shuffled through some of my favourite old music.
The pain was just washed away in an instant, and I was in heaven, blissful consciousness that was so lovely, floating on the back of seagulls that hover above the mirror-like surface of the dark waters. I was sucked back into the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, where the plague ran rampant but the music ripened in its own glory, and people held hands and danced the night away at little pubs till the dawn broke the deep violet sky.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Saturday, 27th November 2010
I believe that all human beings are equal. Men and women are equal. No person should be another's slave.
If you think slavery is no big deal, try being someone else's slave.
Get whipped by leather and hooks, branded with red-hot irons, chained up until you get sores. Nobody cares if you die, you are nothing, nothing.
Just a slave.
Oh, Rabbit.
Have you turned away?
I've been crying an awful lot nowadays, I wonder if you're still here?
I'm so tired.
I need your comfort, I need your kisses.
You always made me feel better when no one else could.
Have you turned away?
I've been crying an awful lot nowadays, I wonder if you're still here?
I'm so tired.
I need your comfort, I need your kisses.
You always made me feel better when no one else could.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Saturday, 20th November 2010
Plants are amazing.
They thrive anywhere, even though sometimes soil is nowhere to be found. One way or another, they weasel their way through cracks in concrete, patches of dry sand, rocks by the path and water in swamps.
Tonight, I went to this plant stall at a pasar malam with my Love. I'd been wanting to buy some fertilizer of some sort for my little sprouts (Papaya and some unknown plant), because all babies need their nutrients. I saw some little bottles and bags of fertilizer, and asked about them. The auntie told me how much to give, after asking me about the type of plants I have.
Then, she joked,
"Remember to give its neighbour some fertilizer as well or it will be jealous!"
-----
I'm letting my hair grow.
I don't really know who I am anymore. I came into Poly, so sure of myself and who I want to be. So sure that I wanted to wear short hair and crazy hairclips and dresses and jumpers and cargo-pants. So sure that I could study for 6 days a week, 2 hours a day, and get a 4.0 GPA.
It's back to having long hair then, but I won't wear it like a loser. Back in secondary school, I couldn't really do much with long straight black hair, after all, there were rules to abide by. I had no imagination whatsoever, so my hair was mostly in a ponytail, neat and proper.
After May 16th, I started to explore more styles, like plaiting and using more rubberbands and having bangs.
Until I got tired of everything and chopped it off in 2007.
Then, came the butterflies and flower clips and hand-painted hairbands and wooden candycane-clips. It was fun having short hair, it still is, but somehow I keep feeling this pressure, like I'm missing out on something. It's like I'm not girly enough or something. I can't even wear cargo-pants without looking like a little boy.
It's not fair.
They thrive anywhere, even though sometimes soil is nowhere to be found. One way or another, they weasel their way through cracks in concrete, patches of dry sand, rocks by the path and water in swamps.
Tonight, I went to this plant stall at a pasar malam with my Love. I'd been wanting to buy some fertilizer of some sort for my little sprouts (Papaya and some unknown plant), because all babies need their nutrients. I saw some little bottles and bags of fertilizer, and asked about them. The auntie told me how much to give, after asking me about the type of plants I have.
Then, she joked,
"Remember to give its neighbour some fertilizer as well or it will be jealous!"
-----
I'm letting my hair grow.
I don't really know who I am anymore. I came into Poly, so sure of myself and who I want to be. So sure that I wanted to wear short hair and crazy hairclips and dresses and jumpers and cargo-pants. So sure that I could study for 6 days a week, 2 hours a day, and get a 4.0 GPA.
It's back to having long hair then, but I won't wear it like a loser. Back in secondary school, I couldn't really do much with long straight black hair, after all, there were rules to abide by. I had no imagination whatsoever, so my hair was mostly in a ponytail, neat and proper.
After May 16th, I started to explore more styles, like plaiting and using more rubberbands and having bangs.
Until I got tired of everything and chopped it off in 2007.
Then, came the butterflies and flower clips and hand-painted hairbands and wooden candycane-clips. It was fun having short hair, it still is, but somehow I keep feeling this pressure, like I'm missing out on something. It's like I'm not girly enough or something. I can't even wear cargo-pants without looking like a little boy.
It's not fair.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, 17th November 2010
Amore mio,
se la pioggia o sole,
sia chiaro o scuro,
sia caldo o freddo,
se felice o triste,
se siamo sani o malati,
mio voglio noi stare insieme, e rimanere cosi per sempre.
se la pioggia o sole,
sia chiaro o scuro,
sia caldo o freddo,
se felice o triste,
se siamo sani o malati,
mio voglio noi stare insieme, e rimanere cosi per sempre.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Thursday, 11th November 2010
My agar plates have BLOSSOMED!
That was the pleasant surprise waiting for me when I got home late tonight. It had been a rather interesting day, I must say. I'd spent three whole hours this morning in the world of microbes, playing catch with bacteria, gazing at adorable cheek cells, being annoyed at dust specks, watching microbes swim after one another. It was as if the tiny blue-stained slide was a huge playground, and I got lost in it after the first two minutes.
It was somewhat comforting, really, being able to escape into another world, even though staring into a microscope for so long might render one blind after a few years. The world of microbiology is absolutely fascinating. I was so worried that my new home-made agar wouldn't culture anything because it was too hard, but I needn't have worried.
Using both sugar and broth in the agar mixture hit the jackpot, because my agar plates are now rather... hairy. The one labelled "nose" has a huge colony of bacteria climbing upwards like thin, white hair, and there's this small lonely black hairy speck at the corner. The one labelled "tongue" has the same white colony growing, only a smaller one this time. It's going to take a few more days to see more. Nothing much has grown on the skin that can be identified, so I'm going to wait patiently, seeing as my super-agar has indeed effectively cultivated microbes.
Damn, I want a real microscope to call my own.
That was the pleasant surprise waiting for me when I got home late tonight. It had been a rather interesting day, I must say. I'd spent three whole hours this morning in the world of microbes, playing catch with bacteria, gazing at adorable cheek cells, being annoyed at dust specks, watching microbes swim after one another. It was as if the tiny blue-stained slide was a huge playground, and I got lost in it after the first two minutes.
It was somewhat comforting, really, being able to escape into another world, even though staring into a microscope for so long might render one blind after a few years. The world of microbiology is absolutely fascinating. I was so worried that my new home-made agar wouldn't culture anything because it was too hard, but I needn't have worried.
Using both sugar and broth in the agar mixture hit the jackpot, because my agar plates are now rather... hairy. The one labelled "nose" has a huge colony of bacteria climbing upwards like thin, white hair, and there's this small lonely black hairy speck at the corner. The one labelled "tongue" has the same white colony growing, only a smaller one this time. It's going to take a few more days to see more. Nothing much has grown on the skin that can be identified, so I'm going to wait patiently, seeing as my super-agar has indeed effectively cultivated microbes.
Damn, I want a real microscope to call my own.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Sunday, 7th November 2010
Once there was a boy, Narcissus, who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He gazed at his reflection, the handsome face that kept gazing back, and fell in love with it. He returned to the lake, day after day, to gaze at his lover, until one day he leaned too far, and plop! He fell into the lake and drowned.
At that spot, the bud of a beautiful flower appeared.
At that spot, the bud of a beautiful flower appeared.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
Saturday, 6th November 2010
"You must believe in Jesus."
"Jesus will not harm you. I told him you had to be baptised, I do not oppose you two being together but you have to believe in Jesus and get baptised."
Or you will go to hell.
The more I hear about this, the more I feel this incredible feeling building up inside me. The more I get preached to, the less I believe, the more I dislike. It's a peculiar feeling, really, when people insist they're not forcing anything on you, but then they don't give you any other choice either, so you're stuck in limbo and forever unhappy.
I'm not ready to worship a God who would send me to hell, as he would to anybody who isn't baptised.
"Jesus will not harm you. I told him you had to be baptised, I do not oppose you two being together but you have to believe in Jesus and get baptised."
Or you will go to hell.
The more I hear about this, the more I feel this incredible feeling building up inside me. The more I get preached to, the less I believe, the more I dislike. It's a peculiar feeling, really, when people insist they're not forcing anything on you, but then they don't give you any other choice either, so you're stuck in limbo and forever unhappy.
I'm not ready to worship a God who would send me to hell, as he would to anybody who isn't baptised.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Thursday, 4th November 2010
It would be called Luna.
Protected by Milai, the great city of warriors, Luna is a gentle little town tucked away behind the woods, in the valley. The river runs right through it, and a cobblestone bridge hangs over the water. Bicycles cross over them, there would only be bicycles, no cars.
It would be inhabited by mimes, in their monotonous black and white, they would give each other flowers in the streets. They would smile their clown-red smiles, and always hold in one hand, a black suitcase, and in the other, a strawberry ice-cream cone. They would lick it as they went about town, about their lives, oblivious to the world and its problems.
There would be no war, no distress, no sadness. Each and every mime would be equal, each one polite, each one selfless and sensitive. Despite the ice-cream cones, they would remain skinny little things, clad in a black beret, shoes, gloves and a stripy skin-suit. Occasionally you would see a few carrying backpacks, only weighed down by art materials; paint, markers, coloured pencils, pastels, anything to make their art brilliant and colourful.
You'd think that they'd be so monotonous in their choice of colours, mimes, but no, their art has to, must be colourful. Mimes love colours. It makes them feel not quite part of this world. They paint their cute round-spherical houses shades of the brightest colours; red, green, orange, blue, purple, yellow, and delight in designing their own furniture that stick to the walls so that if need be, they'd be able to move their house to another part of town to, perhaps, be with their other half, the one they love.
Protected by Milai, the great city of warriors, Luna is a gentle little town tucked away behind the woods, in the valley. The river runs right through it, and a cobblestone bridge hangs over the water. Bicycles cross over them, there would only be bicycles, no cars.
It would be inhabited by mimes, in their monotonous black and white, they would give each other flowers in the streets. They would smile their clown-red smiles, and always hold in one hand, a black suitcase, and in the other, a strawberry ice-cream cone. They would lick it as they went about town, about their lives, oblivious to the world and its problems.
There would be no war, no distress, no sadness. Each and every mime would be equal, each one polite, each one selfless and sensitive. Despite the ice-cream cones, they would remain skinny little things, clad in a black beret, shoes, gloves and a stripy skin-suit. Occasionally you would see a few carrying backpacks, only weighed down by art materials; paint, markers, coloured pencils, pastels, anything to make their art brilliant and colourful.
You'd think that they'd be so monotonous in their choice of colours, mimes, but no, their art has to, must be colourful. Mimes love colours. It makes them feel not quite part of this world. They paint their cute round-spherical houses shades of the brightest colours; red, green, orange, blue, purple, yellow, and delight in designing their own furniture that stick to the walls so that if need be, they'd be able to move their house to another part of town to, perhaps, be with their other half, the one they love.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, 30th October 2010
Would you see beauty in such a face?
Love diminishing, he says, dying, dying.
7 months past.
I couldn't go. There's no closure. The nightmares won't go away.
A quote.
"They are the ones who will stay with you until you die." -Lecturer on the topic of Memory B cells, Immunology.
Who says Science isn't romantic?
Love diminishing, he says, dying, dying.
7 months past.
I couldn't go. There's no closure. The nightmares won't go away.
A quote.
"They are the ones who will stay with you until you die." -Lecturer on the topic of Memory B cells, Immunology.
Who says Science isn't romantic?
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, 28th October 2010
Gnarly trunk, crooked branches,
great big fields of grass,
graceful leaves that fall to the ground,
orange pigment with hues of yellow
and pink, sun-cast sky and
calm serenity,
all there together in the lonely field.
great big fields of grass,
graceful leaves that fall to the ground,
orange pigment with hues of yellow
and pink, sun-cast sky and
calm serenity,
all there together in the lonely field.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, 26th October 2010
I feel tired and a little vicious.
Have been suffering from insomnia for the past few nights, and I feel awful, awful. I was still patient with the world, and couldn't have been more of a good girl than I had been today.
I memorised my scores, studied my subjects, revised my Maths, paid attention in class, held friendly conversations with people, met new people, practised my singing, waited for my Honey to finish his comm meeting to have dinner...
I feel like I've truly exhausted myself.
Yet.
Yet.
Why do I still find myself tossing around all night?
Have been suffering from insomnia for the past few nights, and I feel awful, awful. I was still patient with the world, and couldn't have been more of a good girl than I had been today.
I memorised my scores, studied my subjects, revised my Maths, paid attention in class, held friendly conversations with people, met new people, practised my singing, waited for my Honey to finish his comm meeting to have dinner...
I feel like I've truly exhausted myself.
Yet.
Yet.
Why do I still find myself tossing around all night?
Monday, October 25, 2010
Monday, 25th October 2010
Insomnia befell again last night.
As it did the night before.
Thoughts of you kept me awake.
I thought about us.
Not a wink of sleep.
Not a wink.
As it did the night before.
Thoughts of you kept me awake.
I thought about us.
Not a wink of sleep.
Not a wink.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Saturday, 23rd October 2010
It was dark there at night.
In absolute darkness, he felt himself shiver. The goosebumps appeared before the sneezing began. He felt cold and lonely and, having eaten his last meal the day before, heard his stomach protest noisily.
Suddenly, he saw them.
They were feathered, winged creatures, flying beneath the surface of the ocean. They glowed. Surely they couldn't fly, after all, they were underwater. Surely?
They continued to move in their flock, wing after wing after wing, their beaks swallowing the slippery fish as they went. The birds continued to fly until they disappeared into the distance, never once leaving the water.
His mind was an ocean.
He was but a drop, and for once felt so small in the vastness of the world. The rocks on the beach waved to him, it was time to go.
Opening his eyes, he found himself back in his room. The screen lit up in anticipation, it had been awaiting him for several hours now. He looked on eagerly, expecting an image to appear. Instead, he touched a hand, soft and warm, that extended from the screen.
It opened in invitation.
In absolute darkness, he felt himself shiver. The goosebumps appeared before the sneezing began. He felt cold and lonely and, having eaten his last meal the day before, heard his stomach protest noisily.
Suddenly, he saw them.
They were feathered, winged creatures, flying beneath the surface of the ocean. They glowed. Surely they couldn't fly, after all, they were underwater. Surely?
They continued to move in their flock, wing after wing after wing, their beaks swallowing the slippery fish as they went. The birds continued to fly until they disappeared into the distance, never once leaving the water.
His mind was an ocean.
He was but a drop, and for once felt so small in the vastness of the world. The rocks on the beach waved to him, it was time to go.
Opening his eyes, he found himself back in his room. The screen lit up in anticipation, it had been awaiting him for several hours now. He looked on eagerly, expecting an image to appear. Instead, he touched a hand, soft and warm, that extended from the screen.
It opened in invitation.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Thursday, 21st October 2010
I've seen it before-
The same vacant gaze, the blank eyes with which they see, the open mouth, wet and drooling, the busy hands, the strained neck, the tiresome slouch, the shaking of legs.
Yes, it's the Gamer's Syndrome.
It applies to everything that has to do with staring at a screen. Televisions, computers, PSPs, mobile phones, small hand-held games, you name it, I've seen it. It's been too long, too long that I've been living around people with this syndrome, for me not to notice it at first glance.
The victims suffer from this syndrome in such a way that they enjoy it, and they neglect everything else. One has to be very careful whilst trying to engage in conversation with them while they are gaming, or watching television, for they would kill to continue their task. They would swat at you like some buzzing fly, or simply yell a bit.
This is a very dangerous syndrome.
Beware.
---
Meanwhile, I am rather happy.
The new term is starting on Monday, and I have new subjects, and that means new challenges. I get to stay in choir, which has 2 performances coming up, and I got the Cross Disciplinary Subjects I wanted. Since it was on a first-come, first-serve basis, being kiasu this time worked like a charm.
I'm taking French and Creative Writing.
Both of which, I think I'll do quite well at. I like languages, and I enjoy writing stories.
As impartial as I am towards the English language, here it is, being one of the few languages I'm marginally fluent in. I like to write, even though my characters tend to die. I have "Finding Neverland" to thank for that.
As for French, I kind of like the idea that I'm finally learning it in a classroom setting. It's a rather sensual language, if I may say so, and so deliciously fluid. As a singer I need to know French, German and Italian, and perhaps Latin as well, but the first three are priority. Grade 6 will require knowledge of the beautiful French language, so might as well learn it now. (Grade 5 has been conquered with Distinction!)
If all else fails, I'll be able to survive in France.
I've been learning Braille.
It's such a lovely, anal-retentive language. Every dot has to be in the right place, so precise, so clean on white paper. The language of the Blind. I love how they use their sense of touch for everything, even reading.
It's beautiful, beautiful.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Monday, 18th October 2010
I can breathe again.
Over the past few days, I had to go through what I call "over-socialization", which was terribly exhausting, not to mention suffocating. I just felt the need to be alone, somewhere, anywhere else. I keep wanting to watch "Amadeus" but I always seem to face the lack of time.
It is exactly 1am.
ABRSM took pity on me and gave me a distinction for my Grade 5. I made it, although I think I did quite badly in my sight-singing and aural portion. Thankfully, the examiner was a nice man, and (probably) isn't a singer. Thank God.
And to my lovely Rabbit:
I miss you, you cute bunch of fur. Your long, pinkish ears that I like to tickle, your kisses that land even on my pyjamas, your bright eyes that gaze so lovingly. I miss your company; so quiet yet so strong, so graceful and gentle, never questioning, never unaccepting. Such a sweet face, such a sweet nature. Such a beautiful Rabbit. I miss you.
I miss you.
Over the past few days, I had to go through what I call "over-socialization", which was terribly exhausting, not to mention suffocating. I just felt the need to be alone, somewhere, anywhere else. I keep wanting to watch "Amadeus" but I always seem to face the lack of time.
It is exactly 1am.
ABRSM took pity on me and gave me a distinction for my Grade 5. I made it, although I think I did quite badly in my sight-singing and aural portion. Thankfully, the examiner was a nice man, and (probably) isn't a singer. Thank God.
And to my lovely Rabbit:
I miss you, you cute bunch of fur. Your long, pinkish ears that I like to tickle, your kisses that land even on my pyjamas, your bright eyes that gaze so lovingly. I miss your company; so quiet yet so strong, so graceful and gentle, never questioning, never unaccepting. Such a sweet face, such a sweet nature. Such a beautiful Rabbit. I miss you.
I miss you.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Sunday, 17th October 2010 (2)
I had to endure half-a-tedious-hour of political talk aboard the taxi on the way home.
You know me, right?
I'm the last person on earth who wants anything to do with politics. I despise it. Some of you find it essential to livelihood in society, some of you even enjoy it. I ask myself, how? It's not that I'm an ignorant little twit who hasn't the least idea how to survive in an urban city, I just don't want to dabble in politics. It's not my style.
Politics seems to me to be all about corruption, assassinations, controlling, insisting that people live how you want them to, think how you want them to. If they don't and refuse, you give out orders to the guards and soldiers to capture or kill. Wars start from the smallest spark of the stupidest argument between two people. Millions get killed.
Racism, sexism, homophobia, anything that has to do with someone disliking another for various stupid reasons. Religion, views, skin-colour, clothing, the list is endless.
It's like how my parents would die when they finally realise that most of my good friends aren't Chinese.
Well, go to blazes.
I live the way I want to, and to hell with people who are racist.
To hell with people who think "it is essential for all the youngsters to know about current affairs and be involved in politics". To hell with people who think "youngsters nowadays only care about their friends and the latest pop-stars". To hell with people who think "youngsters nowadays don't think as logically and smartly as the older generation". To hell with people who think "youngsters are just so ignorant nowadays".
Assholes.
You know me, right?
I'm the last person on earth who wants anything to do with politics. I despise it. Some of you find it essential to livelihood in society, some of you even enjoy it. I ask myself, how? It's not that I'm an ignorant little twit who hasn't the least idea how to survive in an urban city, I just don't want to dabble in politics. It's not my style.
Politics seems to me to be all about corruption, assassinations, controlling, insisting that people live how you want them to, think how you want them to. If they don't and refuse, you give out orders to the guards and soldiers to capture or kill. Wars start from the smallest spark of the stupidest argument between two people. Millions get killed.
Racism, sexism, homophobia, anything that has to do with someone disliking another for various stupid reasons. Religion, views, skin-colour, clothing, the list is endless.
It's like how my parents would die when they finally realise that most of my good friends aren't Chinese.
Well, go to blazes.
I live the way I want to, and to hell with people who are racist.
To hell with people who think "it is essential for all the youngsters to know about current affairs and be involved in politics". To hell with people who think "youngsters nowadays only care about their friends and the latest pop-stars". To hell with people who think "youngsters nowadays don't think as logically and smartly as the older generation". To hell with people who think "youngsters are just so ignorant nowadays".
Assholes.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Sunday, 17th October 2010
I feel like disappearing.
I want to get away. I want to be there.
Time passes so slowly now, why can't it fly by faster?
Everyone's around the table, eating now. I feel full and left-out. Is it just me? Maybe I want to be left out. I like these people, I enjoy time with them, they have good humour, they are intelligent. They can hold serious conversations when they want to.
So why do I feel the need to be alone?
I want to get away. I want to be there.
Time passes so slowly now, why can't it fly by faster?
Everyone's around the table, eating now. I feel full and left-out. Is it just me? Maybe I want to be left out. I like these people, I enjoy time with them, they have good humour, they are intelligent. They can hold serious conversations when they want to.
So why do I feel the need to be alone?
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