Friday, October 17, 2008
omgwtfpwntzorbbqepicwhinlolcatsroflcopters!
omgwtfpwntzorbbqepicwhinlolcatsroflcopters!
hehehehehe!
Today was Popping 1 Course!
However, headed to Bedok after school to meet Nik and Diana for a bout o MEEGORENG :3
Nik loved his noodles!
Diana hated her chilli!
And gave me her prawns...
And we had Teh Tarik...(I finished my cup first)
We ate at Bedok South Market :3
(My old home; fond memories :D)
(This is in Bedok...)
(This is in Bedok too...)
(Yep, Bedok)
This is Diana randomly posing for the camera
(Yea it was in Bedok also...)
I used to live several blocks down from here
And I finished my Mee Goreng fastest!
(These are shoes)
(This is what we thought of our mee goreng)
We took this bus back to the interchange!
And this was the cyclist that posed in my final picture.
AND THEN WE WENT POPPING! (DIANA AND I; Nik went to SMU, which was nearby, to practice with his friends)
It was fun! but then I forgot to take pictures of O School :(
We learnt: Fresco's
Hitting
Rolling
Woohoo, Ben said our class learnt fast, hopefully we can cover much each session :D
Next popping class in 2 weeks :(
After Popping, Diana had to go for her dance recitals and I then met up with Nik and went home.
we were sad to leave :((((
Saturday, October 11, 2008
epik sadnurse.
i know i havent blogged in quite a while.
so much has happened, (not many noteworthy, but still something! e.g. eating out. lmao )
BUT THE THING MOST ON MY MIND IS WEBCOMICS
of note : HERO ! GG THIS COMIC IS DAMN NICE :3 http://invisiblecities.comicgenesis.com
the creator of it was inspired by the japanese song HERO by mrchildren.
Here's the link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Zx6kfxHtwg
and here are the translated lyrics.
Supposing that the world could be saved by one person giving their life in exchange,
I would be the man who waits until someone else has volunteered.
All those dear to me have made me a coward.
I don't expect to be like my idols
whose actions and mannerisms I imitated as a child.
But I'd like to be a hero, just for you, to reach a hand out to you,
when you stumble or fall.
To make an awful movie more exciting they casually kill off people on screen.
But they're wrong, what we want to see is a light full of hope.
the slightly smaller hand in my handsilently melts away the gloom in my heart.
the many spices that one needs to really taste life's full course
are prepared for everyone.
sometimes they're bitter
and you'll think the taste astringent.
and then you'll eat your last dessert with a smile.
I want to be next to you. through the cruel passage of time, surely even I've become adult enough.
I'm not sad, and it doesn't hurtjust having kept going, and keeping going
is enough to make me happy, is precious.
I always want to be a hero, just for you, there's nothing mysterious about it,
at this point there's nothing to hide.
but I want to be a hero, just for you
to reach a hand out to you, when you stumble or fall.
I FUGLING DIG THIS SHIT.
OMG EMO LOL ! :3
HAHAHA. WA . WHO KNEW MALAYSIANS WERE SO . WOW ( no offense to em out there :x )
if you've never been touched by much in life, i promise u, this will certainly pull some heartstrings.
:)
p.s.
Diana is my prom-date lmao :D
so much has happened, (not many noteworthy, but still something! e.g. eating out. lmao )
BUT THE THING MOST ON MY MIND IS WEBCOMICS
of note : HERO ! GG THIS COMIC IS DAMN NICE :3 http://invisiblecities.comicgenesis.com
the creator of it was inspired by the japanese song HERO by mrchildren.
Here's the link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Zx6kfxHtwg
and here are the translated lyrics.
Supposing that the world could be saved by one person giving their life in exchange,
I would be the man who waits until someone else has volunteered.
All those dear to me have made me a coward.
I don't expect to be like my idols
whose actions and mannerisms I imitated as a child.
But I'd like to be a hero, just for you, to reach a hand out to you,
when you stumble or fall.
To make an awful movie more exciting they casually kill off people on screen.
But they're wrong, what we want to see is a light full of hope.
the slightly smaller hand in my handsilently melts away the gloom in my heart.
the many spices that one needs to really taste life's full course
are prepared for everyone.
sometimes they're bitter
and you'll think the taste astringent.
and then you'll eat your last dessert with a smile.
I want to be next to you. through the cruel passage of time, surely even I've become adult enough.
I'm not sad, and it doesn't hurtjust having kept going, and keeping going
is enough to make me happy, is precious.
I always want to be a hero, just for you, there's nothing mysterious about it,
at this point there's nothing to hide.
but I want to be a hero, just for you
to reach a hand out to you, when you stumble or fall.
I FUGLING DIG THIS SHIT.
OMG EMO LOL ! :3
HAHAHA. WA . WHO KNEW MALAYSIANS WERE SO . WOW ( no offense to em out there :x )
if you've never been touched by much in life, i promise u, this will certainly pull some heartstrings.
:)
p.s.
Diana is my prom-date lmao :D
Friday, October 3, 2008
Hey wassaup?
Night studies and night studies, boohoo:(
Yesterday, studies ended around 6, so i went to eat at Subway!(for the second time)
Went with Diana,
Macadamia nut cookies are cool.
AND THEN SHE KHEY KIANG WANTED TO GO TO INTERCHANGE AND TAKE THE BUS THERE AND RAN INTO GUNDAM LMAO. ok done.
~~
I went to school at like 8am today, figured studying in school gonna do me good.
Look, prove ok .
lol :P
so studied with diana and lincoln until like say 12? then went to TM with her to get some stuff for my phone. Then we went to Simeis sake sushi to celebrate ernests and engmengs bday, quite funny. AND DIANA BOUGHT RED SHORTS LA. soooo hip leh someone ._.
so the pics,
Sushi is healthy, sushi is strong, sushi is singing the jungle song!
LOL WTF soz lame ._.
Aloysius was tryina put this scallop into his mouth, it slipped out and fell on the table. Amazing thing is he put it back on the plate and it had this really kute face from mayo! lmaofao.
<<<<
Night studies and night studies, boohoo:(
Yesterday, studies ended around 6, so i went to eat at Subway!(for the second time)
Went with Diana,
Macadamia nut cookies are cool.
AND THEN SHE KHEY KIANG WANTED TO GO TO INTERCHANGE AND TAKE THE BUS THERE AND RAN INTO GUNDAM LMAO. ok done.
~~
I went to school at like 8am today, figured studying in school gonna do me good.
Look, prove ok .
lol :P
so studied with diana and lincoln until like say 12? then went to TM with her to get some stuff for my phone. Then we went to Simeis sake sushi to celebrate ernests and engmengs bday, quite funny. AND DIANA BOUGHT RED SHORTS LA. soooo hip leh someone ._.
so the pics,
Sushi is healthy, sushi is strong, sushi is singing the jungle song!
LOL WTF soz lame ._.
Aloysius was tryina put this scallop into his mouth, it slipped out and fell on the table. Amazing thing is he put it back on the plate and it had this really kute face from mayo! lmaofao.
<<<<
So we kinda had a finale, since everyone had one free red plate.
So we ordered sashimi and condensed a plate of wasabi and soysauce.
everyone had to saturate their slice o salmon with wasabi and eat it together. These are a few of the many reactions lmao
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Hari Raya!
ASALAMAIKOM!
It's Hari Raya today and my family went out to visit my grandmother and our relatives.
DISCLAIMER: If it seems that i grew some hair in some photos, forgive me, i was wearing my father's wig.
So, I woke up to my father's calling at like...10am? He was whacking his belt against my door. Ouch :p
Kinda dilly dallyed till 11.45, thats when we were all souped up and ready to go! Took us about 20 mins, but we finally arrived at Punggol.
Punggol is kinda fun-ish. Isolated yet..Ok lost what I wanted to say there. *Ploop there goes the atmosphere*
*Cough*
The brilliant azure sky shone down upon the sleepy suburb, framing them in a quintessence that matched the serenity of the meditating Dalai Lama. My father floored the pedal, heading straight towards a certain block of flats that we knew housed our relatives.
lol.
The first thing I said when i arrived was, ASALAMAIKOM!(Don't know how its spelled but it serves as a greeting in the culture.)
Grandma saw us and immediately started crying, she musta missed us tremendously!
So we got settled down and started talking/eating. Gotta hand it to them, the food was scrumptious!
Home-cooked food is the best. I really need to find a wife that can cook malay food...and japanese...and french, chinese, indonesian, mexican. Ok nvm le. LOL
I later found out that they had this really cool machine that they bought for 10.2k :( OUCH.
This machine is supposed to generate voltage (Up to 9000V). And what we're supposed to do is sit down and put our foot on the pad. The current running through out body is supposed to cleanse the blood or something along those lines.
Yea, so the thing about this was that since i had so much static electricity, i couldnt really touch anyone else, lest we both get shocked. HOWEVER, i was wearing SOCKS. So I wasnt really THAT electrically charged. (I found it out after I, unconsiously-still sitting down-, salam-ed my cousin that just arrived. She screamed as soon as she realised i was on the machine. HAHA but no harm there.
Boy, you should have seen my sister, she wasnt wearing socks, so i decided to touch her, the static HURT! I decided to have some fun and started using my finger to poke her, of course I dint really feel much, but my sis was having the shock of her life :D (Yea Cold. :P)
~~~~~
After my relatives found out about the wig, they couldnt help but give it a fling, lmao
Lol @ hair.
<< GrandMa :D
Anyways! Had a really great day!
SELAMAT HARI RAYA!
It's Hari Raya today and my family went out to visit my grandmother and our relatives.
DISCLAIMER: If it seems that i grew some hair in some photos, forgive me, i was wearing my father's wig.
So, I woke up to my father's calling at like...10am? He was whacking his belt against my door. Ouch :p
Kinda dilly dallyed till 11.45, thats when we were all souped up and ready to go! Took us about 20 mins, but we finally arrived at Punggol.
Punggol is kinda fun-ish. Isolated yet..Ok lost what I wanted to say there. *Ploop there goes the atmosphere*
*Cough*
The brilliant azure sky shone down upon the sleepy suburb, framing them in a quintessence that matched the serenity of the meditating Dalai Lama. My father floored the pedal, heading straight towards a certain block of flats that we knew housed our relatives.
lol.
The first thing I said when i arrived was, ASALAMAIKOM!(Don't know how its spelled but it serves as a greeting in the culture.)
Grandma saw us and immediately started crying, she musta missed us tremendously!
So we got settled down and started talking/eating. Gotta hand it to them, the food was scrumptious!
Home-cooked food is the best. I really need to find a wife that can cook malay food...and japanese...and french, chinese, indonesian, mexican. Ok nvm le. LOL
I later found out that they had this really cool machine that they bought for 10.2k :( OUCH.
This machine is supposed to generate voltage (Up to 9000V). And what we're supposed to do is sit down and put our foot on the pad. The current running through out body is supposed to cleanse the blood or something along those lines.
Yea, so the thing about this was that since i had so much static electricity, i couldnt really touch anyone else, lest we both get shocked. HOWEVER, i was wearing SOCKS. So I wasnt really THAT electrically charged. (I found it out after I, unconsiously-still sitting down-, salam-ed my cousin that just arrived. She screamed as soon as she realised i was on the machine. HAHA but no harm there.
Boy, you should have seen my sister, she wasnt wearing socks, so i decided to touch her, the static HURT! I decided to have some fun and started using my finger to poke her, of course I dint really feel much, but my sis was having the shock of her life :D (Yea Cold. :P)
~~~~~
After my relatives found out about the wig, they couldnt help but give it a fling, lmao
Lol @ hair. << GrandMa :D
Anyways! Had a really great day!
SELAMAT HARI RAYA!
The long awaited (lol) Colab on Jill's Song!
Jill's Song.
Those sheets of paper browned with age remained untouched; I could never bear to even lay a finger on it. The intricate printings on the paper remained the same; I never dared touch the white keys of the piano, and fear compelled me from noticing the contrasting black keys. Those lines on which the notes rested on remained as they were. They remained as you had left them, like you had left me.
The song remained silent.
“Are you comfortable?”, his hypnotizing voice drew me from my painful reminiscing and into reality. I was in his office, a room furbished with dimly lit book shelves with their vast expanse of documented knowledge. What am I doing here, I mused.
“Jack,” a voice penetrated the air, cutting my thoughts and forcing myself once again back into my plight, “Jack, are you with me?”
I noticed the doctor's mouth moving; his dry thin lips questioning me about something. Am I awake? No, it has to be a dream. A nightmare, yes, that is what it has to be. The doctor's face wore the cruelty of the impending truth I never wanted to hear. Once again, I pondered a little about the pieces of paper while answering his question.
“Oh, my past,” I finally let my lips part and my voice move. It felt weird though, to speak with no compassion. To speak only when I lost the entire song. To speak only when I finally lost her.
“Let's get to the issue at hand,” the man with the black rimmed glasses stared impassively at me, “Tell me about Jill.”
It had been so long since I had heard anyone apart from myself, utter her name. My palms started to perspire and I rubbed them on my pants, gently brushing them across the fabric and wiping the anxiety away. I took a deep gulp and heard the awfulness go down with my saliva. Where was I to start? I knew reality would never escape, like she did.
“What do you want to know?” I shot a emotionless reply back at the doctor before glancing around, uncertain if I actually made the right decision.
“Masters in Psychiatry, Wallace Maven.” were the words printed on a mere certificate that hung ignored on the wall.
Maven's voice started to sound hesitant, or so I thought. He then calmly said, “Well, let's start simple.”
Simple huh, when was this ever simple? Well I suppose it was, in a way everything was always simple when you were in love.
“Can you describe her to me?”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Framed there in my mind was an image of her. She was at the piano again, not surprisingly. She was wearing her favorite dress, the pink one with the blue flowers. I still remembered.
I let out a small chuckle.
She was playing her song again; the one I composed with her, almost four years ago when we were lying under the old birch down at Willow’s farm.
It was nearing dusk, during one of the summers down at our old hometown. The whispering wind caressed our skins and drew us close as we laid on our backs, staring up at the branches of Old Timmy; that’s what we called the tree.
A small cough broke me from my reverie; an all too familiar repose that I had been spending most of my time in these days.
The music stopped.
Wallace was staring at me.
“Well?” He fixed me with an arched brow, not the condescending look, but one that was purely questioning.
I cleared my throat, more to see if I could still speak than anything else. A burning sensation in my chest caught me, and I realized that I had been holding my breath. I exhaled and breathed in deep again; trying to fill my lungs with oxygen, so that the feeling could go away. I realized then that I wasn’t aching holding my breath.
I was aching for love, Jill’s love.
Once again, Jill’s tune started to play in my mind.
“In more ways than one, you could say that she was like…music.” At the same time, I flourished my hand in a slow arc.
“Soft at first, soothing…tender notes one after another like…a beautiful song that gets stuck in your head.”
“I’d listen to her, rapt in her…soaking it all in, just…just smiling at my luck to have found someone like her.”
“An angel…music.”
My hands were trembling. It took so much effort to speak about it.
The tune was stuck in my mind, the melody beautiful.
I closed my eyes again. I remember waking up one morning staring into her hazel-brown eyes. We were lying on the white satin sheets and she was looking at me, propped up on one elbow. Her sandy-brown hair cascaded down her neck, framing her in a quintessence posture. I could see the white curtains billowing behind her. It was peaceful.
I was in love.
“Go on.”
Damn. I drifted off again.
“Have you ever loved anyone? Have you ever stood next to someone and thought to yourself, this is the person I love. The person who, above all other things I will dedicate myself to, have you ever done that?
And the song came to the bridge, flowing…smooth, with promise of more to come.
“It’s…it’s that, incredible feeling that you hear about in the...in the movies. That ecstasy, that…that middle ground between longing and satisfaction. Everything is in the balance and she is right there," I took a deep breath before continuing with words of the past, "beside me."
Jill's delicate fingers gently crept up to my arm. Before I knew it, she was resting her head on my chest. She was there, right next to me. Her hair carried the scent of the previous night's conditioner. Those long strands of brown were pure silk. They were smooth and flowing, just like her voice, that sweet, sweet melody that used to carry her love for me whenever we sang under Old Timmy. That morning, she sang to me, and I sang back.
"Holding onto me," I continued, "Looking into my eyes and I'm holding on right back onto her. We could stare like that forever! That's love! That's Jill!"
My voice peaked in a sudden burst of volume. What was that called again? For a moment only I could catch, I traced my way back into my realm of thoughts, my own library of recollections. What was that term called? Jill used to repeat that to me.
I blinked my eyes in hope of remembering the loving words we used to exchange. That word, that word which described the peak of emotions for music. What was it? Only the sound of our song through the echoes of the piano reached my consciousness. That word was still lost in the antagonizing pain of our separation.
Once again, the music returned to the beginning.
"Music has parts. It has a tune and a medium to it. A predictability, and a reliability," something spoke. I pondered once again, trying to remember that word, but I couldn’t find it. That was when I realized that Wallace had not tried to start up any conversation since I started.
"The introduction always comes first. The music starts out and we got two or three lines of... building notes that set the emotions, the pace. If the song's good, those notes speak to you. They say... they say...”
"Hey... wow! This…is something special, coming up. Something grand and sharp as a chorus! And the chorus comes.”
And indeed the chorus came. It lifted me up and made me feel like nothing else in the world mattered.
I still remember our first date upon that grassy hill overlooking the old town. I often dream about it. The sunset that day cast the sky with a passionate shade of purple, covered the old rusty town with a sea of violet and wrapped us with a blanket of relish. I remember the excitement that was building up in me then. I wanted to do something so simple, but it took so much courage.
She was in her pink frolic dress with the silk sash tied into a beautiful bow around her slender waist. Jill sat there, her eyes gazing into the distance. Her legs stretched out playfully on the grass and herr arms propped herself comfortably upwards. I ran my eyes up and down her right arm, which was resting on a daffodil that had no more hope for survival. Her hand was obviously free.
Go on, now's the chance! Nothing happened. No twitch of any muscles in my left hand. No sudden jerks…nothing.
I glanced nervously at the crushed daffodil. My heart was jumping, my palms sweaty and my mouth dry. It was just meant to be a simple gesture. A simple "I love you" action but no, I lacked the courage. I shot another hurried look back at that daffodil; its white petals that once fanned out in pride were now flattened in defeat. Something had killed that flower. Jill's hand, where was her hand?
That was when I noticed her fingers tickling my left arm. Like a conductor waving his hands to ready the orchestra, her fingers summoned strength in my arm. That was when I held her. That was when we first made a connection. That was when my heart skipped another beat. We were madly in love.
Unknowingly, my lips refused to follow the conductor. I felt them moving into an all too familiar curve. That flex of happiness, that brimming of joy. My cheeks were warming itself with embarrassment and my heart encouraged more blood to fill the capillaries there. Then, one member of the orchestra stopped following the commands - my head cocked awkwardly to one side and I tried to avoid Jill's curious stare.
Her gaze was magic. It was hypnotizing. I was caught in the conductor's eyes. Slowly, but steadily, I brought my eyes towards her face. She was coming closer; her breathing brushed gentle warm breaths on my lips. The quaint town then burst into life that very moment.
It was July the Fourth. Jill and I then looked up into the sky, watching as the neon flowers burst into an array of prideful colors. We were watching fireworks. The daffodil was reincarnated into a lovely chorus of fireworks.
“And it's…its bliss; love.”
Jill.
"The voices of the chorus sing out to you and they say, 'This is the one you've been waiting for. We'll be together forever! I'll never love anyone else...”
“And you…and you take those words to heart.”
At that very moment, I realized the very impact of my words. I sagged in the chair.
“And it’s this rush of pleasure and happiness and security that...nothing else in this world can provide.” My voice caught in my throat, constricted.
I looked at Wallace. He merely nodded, as if urging me to go on.
I closed my eyes for a short moment, only to see those dark, grey clouds heavily polluting the sky. July the fourth, five years after our first date, was so empty. That day was devoid of passion. It was almost as if the sugar I had been having turned to salt. The conductor was not there for the orchestra.
It rained that day. The rain pelted down on me, unifying the tears I had on my cheeks with their short lived bodies. I stood on that grassy hill, raising both my arms just so that I could embrace the emptiness a little. I wanted to welcome it and be friends with it. That was in hope of simmering the agony she left in my heart. I had wanted to shout, but found no strength to do so. Sobbing took sovereignty that day in the storm.
The tune, past its peak, softened.
As did my voice.
“But, things simmer down and the song moves on and the melody returns…and you hum along and you clap your hands and smile.”
“But what you’re really thinking is when’s that chorus coming back?”
“But you can rush it, no.” I surprised myself by smiling. The memories managed to tease out that last remnant of happiness I had, that…final smile.
“It’s got a rhythm to it and if you’re patient, if you’re patient, it’ll come back on its own and you can…and you can sing again and it’ll be just as good as the first time, better even!
“That’s how songs are built, each framed by a chorus.”
I could hear the song building up again.
“The voices grow a little stronger,” And I realized that as I spoke, so did mine. “And the message a little more sincere and everything’s good and you go with it and you ride it, and it takes you where you’ve never been…but it’s…got a rhythm and…you can’t stop it…not for all the trying in the world."
She pushed my hand aside that day. I had gone over to her new place. Her new found home and that abode she shared with her new found love. 'No' was her straightforward answer. 'I'm not returning to those days, Jack!' was what she repeated several times in a row. An alien figure then came into the picture. He was tall, handsome and better than me in every physical aspect.
'What about the love we have for each other?' I asked. Jill buried her teary face in the alien's chest and was cushioned by her well-toned chest. She merely shook her head and wiped her tears on his navy cotton shirt. I blinked. I stared aghast. 'No' was simply her answer.
Wallace remained unmoved by everything. Deep down in his emotionless eyes, I could sense some feelings being stirred up. I then continued, for the sake of just letting someone listen.
“It’s not music if it doesn’t have a rhythm.”
But I did have a rhythm; I pampered her, every day, every minute even! Dint she know that?
I remember being back at her abode. I lashed out at her with those words. She threw it right back in my face.
‘Don’t you see it Jack?’ she cried, ‘It’s exactly that! You care for me, too much! You’re obsessed Jack! I should have seen it from the start, now we’ve both played each other for the fool. And I can’t take this anymore, Jack. You hear me?’
"And as the song builds and as the chorus refrains, before you know it before you can stop it. It all comes to a crescendo; an incredible realization of everything that came before, the moment of clarity and it rings and it roars and it’s the loudest sound that you've ever heard, and then,”
‘We’re through.’
“It’s… just…gone.”
Her melody ended on a discordant key.
“The song is over and all you’re left with is, silence.”
“That’s love, when the song’s over, we’re still the same people, you just lost your rhythm. Every day that u go on like that your memory fades, it’s gone.”
“No more music, no more…love.” My voice quavered, I realized.
“And it hurts,”
Silence.
“That you can’t remember the tune, it meant so much to you and now you can’t even touch it,”
“And it eats you up like a cancer. You try to play it again, but it’s useless.”
I’m not alone, right?
Wallace continued to stare at me, oblivious to the question I posed in my mind. How could he be so insensitive?
I drew in a long breath and realized that my cheeks were moist and my vision blurred.
Was it tears?
“So I went to her, I told her, I said, ‘Honey, I want to sing that song again with you, you remember our song?’ I said it just like that, gentle…calm.”
I gripped the soft padding of Wallace’s recliner.
“She wouldn’t sing it again, not with me. I heard it in her voice. She’d never sing it again with me, she’d found somebody else to sing it with…and I was all alone.” Surprising how I sounded so bitter, after all, it had been over a year already hadn’t it?
“It’s no way for a man to live.”
Wallace nodded his understanding.
No way for a woman to live, either.
-Done by: BryaNik!
Acknowledgement to Lit Fuse Films for their wonderful piece of theater. Kudos.
Those sheets of paper browned with age remained untouched; I could never bear to even lay a finger on it. The intricate printings on the paper remained the same; I never dared touch the white keys of the piano, and fear compelled me from noticing the contrasting black keys. Those lines on which the notes rested on remained as they were. They remained as you had left them, like you had left me.
The song remained silent.
“Are you comfortable?”, his hypnotizing voice drew me from my painful reminiscing and into reality. I was in his office, a room furbished with dimly lit book shelves with their vast expanse of documented knowledge. What am I doing here, I mused.
“Jack,” a voice penetrated the air, cutting my thoughts and forcing myself once again back into my plight, “Jack, are you with me?”
I noticed the doctor's mouth moving; his dry thin lips questioning me about something. Am I awake? No, it has to be a dream. A nightmare, yes, that is what it has to be. The doctor's face wore the cruelty of the impending truth I never wanted to hear. Once again, I pondered a little about the pieces of paper while answering his question.
“Oh, my past,” I finally let my lips part and my voice move. It felt weird though, to speak with no compassion. To speak only when I lost the entire song. To speak only when I finally lost her.
“Let's get to the issue at hand,” the man with the black rimmed glasses stared impassively at me, “Tell me about Jill.”
It had been so long since I had heard anyone apart from myself, utter her name. My palms started to perspire and I rubbed them on my pants, gently brushing them across the fabric and wiping the anxiety away. I took a deep gulp and heard the awfulness go down with my saliva. Where was I to start? I knew reality would never escape, like she did.
“What do you want to know?” I shot a emotionless reply back at the doctor before glancing around, uncertain if I actually made the right decision.
“Masters in Psychiatry, Wallace Maven.” were the words printed on a mere certificate that hung ignored on the wall.
Maven's voice started to sound hesitant, or so I thought. He then calmly said, “Well, let's start simple.”
Simple huh, when was this ever simple? Well I suppose it was, in a way everything was always simple when you were in love.
“Can you describe her to me?”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Framed there in my mind was an image of her. She was at the piano again, not surprisingly. She was wearing her favorite dress, the pink one with the blue flowers. I still remembered.
I let out a small chuckle.
She was playing her song again; the one I composed with her, almost four years ago when we were lying under the old birch down at Willow’s farm.
It was nearing dusk, during one of the summers down at our old hometown. The whispering wind caressed our skins and drew us close as we laid on our backs, staring up at the branches of Old Timmy; that’s what we called the tree.
A small cough broke me from my reverie; an all too familiar repose that I had been spending most of my time in these days.
The music stopped.
Wallace was staring at me.
“Well?” He fixed me with an arched brow, not the condescending look, but one that was purely questioning.
I cleared my throat, more to see if I could still speak than anything else. A burning sensation in my chest caught me, and I realized that I had been holding my breath. I exhaled and breathed in deep again; trying to fill my lungs with oxygen, so that the feeling could go away. I realized then that I wasn’t aching holding my breath.
I was aching for love, Jill’s love.
Once again, Jill’s tune started to play in my mind.
“In more ways than one, you could say that she was like…music.” At the same time, I flourished my hand in a slow arc.
“Soft at first, soothing…tender notes one after another like…a beautiful song that gets stuck in your head.”
“I’d listen to her, rapt in her…soaking it all in, just…just smiling at my luck to have found someone like her.”
“An angel…music.”
My hands were trembling. It took so much effort to speak about it.
The tune was stuck in my mind, the melody beautiful.
I closed my eyes again. I remember waking up one morning staring into her hazel-brown eyes. We were lying on the white satin sheets and she was looking at me, propped up on one elbow. Her sandy-brown hair cascaded down her neck, framing her in a quintessence posture. I could see the white curtains billowing behind her. It was peaceful.
I was in love.
“Go on.”
Damn. I drifted off again.
“Have you ever loved anyone? Have you ever stood next to someone and thought to yourself, this is the person I love. The person who, above all other things I will dedicate myself to, have you ever done that?
And the song came to the bridge, flowing…smooth, with promise of more to come.
“It’s…it’s that, incredible feeling that you hear about in the...in the movies. That ecstasy, that…that middle ground between longing and satisfaction. Everything is in the balance and she is right there," I took a deep breath before continuing with words of the past, "beside me."
Jill's delicate fingers gently crept up to my arm. Before I knew it, she was resting her head on my chest. She was there, right next to me. Her hair carried the scent of the previous night's conditioner. Those long strands of brown were pure silk. They were smooth and flowing, just like her voice, that sweet, sweet melody that used to carry her love for me whenever we sang under Old Timmy. That morning, she sang to me, and I sang back.
"Holding onto me," I continued, "Looking into my eyes and I'm holding on right back onto her. We could stare like that forever! That's love! That's Jill!"
My voice peaked in a sudden burst of volume. What was that called again? For a moment only I could catch, I traced my way back into my realm of thoughts, my own library of recollections. What was that term called? Jill used to repeat that to me.
I blinked my eyes in hope of remembering the loving words we used to exchange. That word, that word which described the peak of emotions for music. What was it? Only the sound of our song through the echoes of the piano reached my consciousness. That word was still lost in the antagonizing pain of our separation.
Once again, the music returned to the beginning.
"Music has parts. It has a tune and a medium to it. A predictability, and a reliability," something spoke. I pondered once again, trying to remember that word, but I couldn’t find it. That was when I realized that Wallace had not tried to start up any conversation since I started.
"The introduction always comes first. The music starts out and we got two or three lines of... building notes that set the emotions, the pace. If the song's good, those notes speak to you. They say... they say...”
"Hey... wow! This…is something special, coming up. Something grand and sharp as a chorus! And the chorus comes.”
And indeed the chorus came. It lifted me up and made me feel like nothing else in the world mattered.
I still remember our first date upon that grassy hill overlooking the old town. I often dream about it. The sunset that day cast the sky with a passionate shade of purple, covered the old rusty town with a sea of violet and wrapped us with a blanket of relish. I remember the excitement that was building up in me then. I wanted to do something so simple, but it took so much courage.
She was in her pink frolic dress with the silk sash tied into a beautiful bow around her slender waist. Jill sat there, her eyes gazing into the distance. Her legs stretched out playfully on the grass and herr arms propped herself comfortably upwards. I ran my eyes up and down her right arm, which was resting on a daffodil that had no more hope for survival. Her hand was obviously free.
Go on, now's the chance! Nothing happened. No twitch of any muscles in my left hand. No sudden jerks…nothing.
I glanced nervously at the crushed daffodil. My heart was jumping, my palms sweaty and my mouth dry. It was just meant to be a simple gesture. A simple "I love you" action but no, I lacked the courage. I shot another hurried look back at that daffodil; its white petals that once fanned out in pride were now flattened in defeat. Something had killed that flower. Jill's hand, where was her hand?
That was when I noticed her fingers tickling my left arm. Like a conductor waving his hands to ready the orchestra, her fingers summoned strength in my arm. That was when I held her. That was when we first made a connection. That was when my heart skipped another beat. We were madly in love.
Unknowingly, my lips refused to follow the conductor. I felt them moving into an all too familiar curve. That flex of happiness, that brimming of joy. My cheeks were warming itself with embarrassment and my heart encouraged more blood to fill the capillaries there. Then, one member of the orchestra stopped following the commands - my head cocked awkwardly to one side and I tried to avoid Jill's curious stare.
Her gaze was magic. It was hypnotizing. I was caught in the conductor's eyes. Slowly, but steadily, I brought my eyes towards her face. She was coming closer; her breathing brushed gentle warm breaths on my lips. The quaint town then burst into life that very moment.
It was July the Fourth. Jill and I then looked up into the sky, watching as the neon flowers burst into an array of prideful colors. We were watching fireworks. The daffodil was reincarnated into a lovely chorus of fireworks.
“And it's…its bliss; love.”
Jill.
"The voices of the chorus sing out to you and they say, 'This is the one you've been waiting for. We'll be together forever! I'll never love anyone else...”
“And you…and you take those words to heart.”
At that very moment, I realized the very impact of my words. I sagged in the chair.
“And it’s this rush of pleasure and happiness and security that...nothing else in this world can provide.” My voice caught in my throat, constricted.
I looked at Wallace. He merely nodded, as if urging me to go on.
I closed my eyes for a short moment, only to see those dark, grey clouds heavily polluting the sky. July the fourth, five years after our first date, was so empty. That day was devoid of passion. It was almost as if the sugar I had been having turned to salt. The conductor was not there for the orchestra.
It rained that day. The rain pelted down on me, unifying the tears I had on my cheeks with their short lived bodies. I stood on that grassy hill, raising both my arms just so that I could embrace the emptiness a little. I wanted to welcome it and be friends with it. That was in hope of simmering the agony she left in my heart. I had wanted to shout, but found no strength to do so. Sobbing took sovereignty that day in the storm.
The tune, past its peak, softened.
As did my voice.
“But, things simmer down and the song moves on and the melody returns…and you hum along and you clap your hands and smile.”
“But what you’re really thinking is when’s that chorus coming back?”
“But you can rush it, no.” I surprised myself by smiling. The memories managed to tease out that last remnant of happiness I had, that…final smile.
“It’s got a rhythm to it and if you’re patient, if you’re patient, it’ll come back on its own and you can…and you can sing again and it’ll be just as good as the first time, better even!
“That’s how songs are built, each framed by a chorus.”
I could hear the song building up again.
“The voices grow a little stronger,” And I realized that as I spoke, so did mine. “And the message a little more sincere and everything’s good and you go with it and you ride it, and it takes you where you’ve never been…but it’s…got a rhythm and…you can’t stop it…not for all the trying in the world."
She pushed my hand aside that day. I had gone over to her new place. Her new found home and that abode she shared with her new found love. 'No' was her straightforward answer. 'I'm not returning to those days, Jack!' was what she repeated several times in a row. An alien figure then came into the picture. He was tall, handsome and better than me in every physical aspect.
'What about the love we have for each other?' I asked. Jill buried her teary face in the alien's chest and was cushioned by her well-toned chest. She merely shook her head and wiped her tears on his navy cotton shirt. I blinked. I stared aghast. 'No' was simply her answer.
Wallace remained unmoved by everything. Deep down in his emotionless eyes, I could sense some feelings being stirred up. I then continued, for the sake of just letting someone listen.
“It’s not music if it doesn’t have a rhythm.”
But I did have a rhythm; I pampered her, every day, every minute even! Dint she know that?
I remember being back at her abode. I lashed out at her with those words. She threw it right back in my face.
‘Don’t you see it Jack?’ she cried, ‘It’s exactly that! You care for me, too much! You’re obsessed Jack! I should have seen it from the start, now we’ve both played each other for the fool. And I can’t take this anymore, Jack. You hear me?’
"And as the song builds and as the chorus refrains, before you know it before you can stop it. It all comes to a crescendo; an incredible realization of everything that came before, the moment of clarity and it rings and it roars and it’s the loudest sound that you've ever heard, and then,”
‘We’re through.’
“It’s… just…gone.”
Her melody ended on a discordant key.
“The song is over and all you’re left with is, silence.”
“That’s love, when the song’s over, we’re still the same people, you just lost your rhythm. Every day that u go on like that your memory fades, it’s gone.”
“No more music, no more…love.” My voice quavered, I realized.
“And it hurts,”
Silence.
“That you can’t remember the tune, it meant so much to you and now you can’t even touch it,”
“And it eats you up like a cancer. You try to play it again, but it’s useless.”
I’m not alone, right?
Wallace continued to stare at me, oblivious to the question I posed in my mind. How could he be so insensitive?
I drew in a long breath and realized that my cheeks were moist and my vision blurred.
Was it tears?
“So I went to her, I told her, I said, ‘Honey, I want to sing that song again with you, you remember our song?’ I said it just like that, gentle…calm.”
I gripped the soft padding of Wallace’s recliner.
“She wouldn’t sing it again, not with me. I heard it in her voice. She’d never sing it again with me, she’d found somebody else to sing it with…and I was all alone.” Surprising how I sounded so bitter, after all, it had been over a year already hadn’t it?
“It’s no way for a man to live.”
Wallace nodded his understanding.
No way for a woman to live, either.
-Done by: BryaNik!
Acknowledgement to Lit Fuse Films for their wonderful piece of theater. Kudos.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
hah!
Today was the last day of school for the sec4s.
WE ARE OFFICIALLY ON STUDY LEAVE.
Olevels is in 20 odd days. Boo ._.
the class peeps kinda camwhored alot today (me inclusive duh :P)
gonna miss those ppl :(
P.S
Diana and I are officially OSchool Poppers! (wannabes :P)
first class starts on the 17 o Oct. lurbs.
P.P.S
Art of Noise has damn good popping music :D
P.P.P.S
Nik and I are on a collab to write a short story on Jill's Song. If you have no idea what im talking about, search down the archives for a vid. That'll be the one.
P.P.P.P.S
PROJECT FALLOUT IS ON HIATUS !
P.P.P.P.P.S
PROJECT FALLOUT HAS SHIFTED.
Today was the last day of school for the sec4s.
WE ARE OFFICIALLY ON STUDY LEAVE.
Olevels is in 20 odd days. Boo ._.
the class peeps kinda camwhored alot today (me inclusive duh :P)
gonna miss those ppl :(
P.S
Diana and I are officially OSchool Poppers! (wannabes :P)
first class starts on the 17 o Oct. lurbs.
P.P.S
Art of Noise has damn good popping music :D
P.P.P.S
Nik and I are on a collab to write a short story on Jill's Song. If you have no idea what im talking about, search down the archives for a vid. That'll be the one.
P.P.P.P.S
PROJECT FALLOUT IS ON HIATUS !
P.P.P.P.P.S
PROJECT FALLOUT HAS SHIFTED.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
got this from nik's blog. swt.
I don't care if you talk to other guys.
I don't care if you're friends with another guy.
But when you're sitting next to me and some random guy just pops up,
and you tackle him without even an introduction,it pisses me off.
The fact that you go on chatting with him for a whole ten minutes
without acknowledging me
doesn't help in improving our relationship.
I don't care if a guy calls you,but at 2 in the morning,
he can wait till sun rises if it isn't important.
Also, when I compliment youand say, "You look beautiful today. Absolutely stunning dress."Don't reject my words by throwing them back at my face.
Eventually, I'll stop my praises for you and lose the compassion for our love.
Accept it graciously,for the sexiest thing about a girl is her confidence.
Don't get mad when I hold the door for you,take advantage of the mood I'm in and walk right past me.
Let me pay for you.Feeling guilty is normal buy please accept my offers.
I enjoy doing it and it's expected of a man.
All you have to do is smile and say, "Thank you."
Kiss me when we're alone.
You will make my day.
Kiss me when we're in front of people,and you would impress me.
Don't bother dressing up for our dates.Mini-skirts, tube tops, heavy make-up and perfume don't mean much to me.
I just like you the way you are.
I mean, when I first fell for you,I fell in love with your personality, your looks,
and not your facade.
In fact, I like you better in your PJ's or in my shirt and boxers.
Sometimes, I tend to be sarcastic.
Please don't take it to heart.
Sarcasm is beautiful,so find the hidden goodness in it whenever I tease you.
Don't get pissed over it all the time.
"Ooo. Wentworth Miller is hot. Did you see Jesse McCartney's new video?"
I'm not interested in those.Besides, what are girlfriends for?
And whatever happened to that embarrassing nickname you gave me when we first started?
Go on, call me your "handsome" or "gorgeous" like you used to;
Like in the days when we were sizzling with passion.
Lastly, those three words are not used for nothing.
Sometimes, I mean it more than everwhen I say, "I love you."
I don't care if you talk to other guys.
I don't care if you're friends with another guy.
But when you're sitting next to me and some random guy just pops up,
and you tackle him without even an introduction,it pisses me off.
The fact that you go on chatting with him for a whole ten minutes
without acknowledging me
doesn't help in improving our relationship.
I don't care if a guy calls you,but at 2 in the morning,
he can wait till sun rises if it isn't important.
Also, when I compliment youand say, "You look beautiful today. Absolutely stunning dress."Don't reject my words by throwing them back at my face.
Eventually, I'll stop my praises for you and lose the compassion for our love.
Accept it graciously,for the sexiest thing about a girl is her confidence.
Don't get mad when I hold the door for you,take advantage of the mood I'm in and walk right past me.
Let me pay for you.Feeling guilty is normal buy please accept my offers.
I enjoy doing it and it's expected of a man.
All you have to do is smile and say, "Thank you."
Kiss me when we're alone.
You will make my day.
Kiss me when we're in front of people,and you would impress me.
Don't bother dressing up for our dates.Mini-skirts, tube tops, heavy make-up and perfume don't mean much to me.
I just like you the way you are.
I mean, when I first fell for you,I fell in love with your personality, your looks,
and not your facade.
In fact, I like you better in your PJ's or in my shirt and boxers.
Sometimes, I tend to be sarcastic.
Please don't take it to heart.
Sarcasm is beautiful,so find the hidden goodness in it whenever I tease you.
Don't get pissed over it all the time.
"Ooo. Wentworth Miller is hot. Did you see Jesse McCartney's new video?"
I'm not interested in those.Besides, what are girlfriends for?
And whatever happened to that embarrassing nickname you gave me when we first started?
Go on, call me your "handsome" or "gorgeous" like you used to;
Like in the days when we were sizzling with passion.
Lastly, those three words are not used for nothing.
Sometimes, I mean it more than everwhen I say, "I love you."
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Prelims 08' : Space. (Why are these two always together?)
Tiny rays of light began to peep over the horizon, as the Sun started its ambulatory course to the axis of the sky. Far off, Jinx and Maxell stared in utter fascination as the Atlantic Ocean caught the rays and sent them coalesced into the sky. The shaft of light was an amazing spectacle that could be witnessed from the port side of their craft.
They were in space.
The beeing of the control interface shattered the tranquility of the space shuttle. Shaken asunder from their reverie - a repose they hardly had during their rigorous aeronautical training - the duo pulled their way to the cockpit of the craft. The weightlessness of the two astronauts, as they bounced and glided, could be accounted for as they were in space, slightly off the Earth's orbit.
"This is Command Centre over, please report on your progress Apollo-11." beeped a voice from a speaker on the control.
"This is Apollo-11. ETA to Command Centre is ten minutes, over."
"Good, we'll see you there, godspeed. Over and out."
Jinx and Maxell had launched from Earth a week prior, en-route to Command Centre; a massive space station that was orbiting around Venus. Their mission was to map out the deposits of Titanium - a rare metal - and to determine if the planet could be Terraformed, just like what Mars was undergoing.
Jinx sighed and looked around the cockpit. Everything was working fine; control lights were lighted green on all panels and auto-pilot was on the right trajectory. Jinx was bored.
Grabbing the cockpit chair as leverage, he pushed off towards the middle-section of the craft, propelling further than he would have due to the lack of gravity. propping his elbows on the ledge of the starboard porticle, he stared out at the vast enormousity of space. The view scared him, as it did every single time he looked. On the port-side, was home and warmth, yet just a stons throw away, lay the deep, dark abyss of never-ending space.
A disturbing thought flashed across his mind, as he stared out into the star-littered void. Images of an explosion on board and a gaping hole in the roof chilled him to the core.his forehead creased as he grimaced at that fate. Would the vacuum of space suck us out of the craft? Or would we just blow apart due to the pressure difference? He wondered how long it would take for his family to see the conflagrant blast of light as it ambulated from the craft to Earth.
'Bah, paranoia,' he thought, leaving his mind's eye and again stared out of the window.
The warmth of his breath condensed upon the window, obscuring his vision as he was pressed up close against the reinforced glass. He reached out to wipe it away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. However, he recoiled upon contact, as the chill of space seemed to permeate through the tiny pores of the window, sucking away his heat like a coiling miasma.
Who ever knew what space would be so intimidating, It was just like how he felt when he was a kid at the playfround slides. The long voyage down, could he make it? And what awaited him at the bottom? That was just like how this void was like, but instead of a slide, it was a seemingly intraversible vast stretch of emptiness and gloom. And however far he craned his neck, it would always be there, like a cold, heartless god whose omnipresence could be felt.
Someone was talking to him. It was Maxell.
"Hey, Earth to Jinx. You back from your voyaage in space?" joked Maxell, grunting an ironic chortle.
"We're reaching, so hurry up and get this heap of metal off auto-pilot."
Jinx held up his hands in mock surrender, nodding in reply. As they turned to the cockpit, Jinx pushed off towards the portside.
He took one last look at Earth and its warmth. Sighing, he made his way to the cockpit.
They were in space.
The beeing of the control interface shattered the tranquility of the space shuttle. Shaken asunder from their reverie - a repose they hardly had during their rigorous aeronautical training - the duo pulled their way to the cockpit of the craft. The weightlessness of the two astronauts, as they bounced and glided, could be accounted for as they were in space, slightly off the Earth's orbit.
"This is Command Centre over, please report on your progress Apollo-11." beeped a voice from a speaker on the control.
"This is Apollo-11. ETA to Command Centre is ten minutes, over."
"Good, we'll see you there, godspeed. Over and out."
Jinx and Maxell had launched from Earth a week prior, en-route to Command Centre; a massive space station that was orbiting around Venus. Their mission was to map out the deposits of Titanium - a rare metal - and to determine if the planet could be Terraformed, just like what Mars was undergoing.
Jinx sighed and looked around the cockpit. Everything was working fine; control lights were lighted green on all panels and auto-pilot was on the right trajectory. Jinx was bored.
Grabbing the cockpit chair as leverage, he pushed off towards the middle-section of the craft, propelling further than he would have due to the lack of gravity. propping his elbows on the ledge of the starboard porticle, he stared out at the vast enormousity of space. The view scared him, as it did every single time he looked. On the port-side, was home and warmth, yet just a stons throw away, lay the deep, dark abyss of never-ending space.
A disturbing thought flashed across his mind, as he stared out into the star-littered void. Images of an explosion on board and a gaping hole in the roof chilled him to the core.his forehead creased as he grimaced at that fate. Would the vacuum of space suck us out of the craft? Or would we just blow apart due to the pressure difference? He wondered how long it would take for his family to see the conflagrant blast of light as it ambulated from the craft to Earth.
'Bah, paranoia,' he thought, leaving his mind's eye and again stared out of the window.
The warmth of his breath condensed upon the window, obscuring his vision as he was pressed up close against the reinforced glass. He reached out to wipe it away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. However, he recoiled upon contact, as the chill of space seemed to permeate through the tiny pores of the window, sucking away his heat like a coiling miasma.
Who ever knew what space would be so intimidating, It was just like how he felt when he was a kid at the playfround slides. The long voyage down, could he make it? And what awaited him at the bottom? That was just like how this void was like, but instead of a slide, it was a seemingly intraversible vast stretch of emptiness and gloom. And however far he craned his neck, it would always be there, like a cold, heartless god whose omnipresence could be felt.
Someone was talking to him. It was Maxell.
"Hey, Earth to Jinx. You back from your voyaage in space?" joked Maxell, grunting an ironic chortle.
"We're reaching, so hurry up and get this heap of metal off auto-pilot."
Jinx held up his hands in mock surrender, nodding in reply. As they turned to the cockpit, Jinx pushed off towards the portside.
He took one last look at Earth and its warmth. Sighing, he made his way to the cockpit.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
(S) What if I wanted to break, laugh it all off in your face.
It was raining.
The marble fireplace did little to warm the house that Chill had already claimed for its own. The Tudor-styled walls rose high and daunting around the living room sparsely strewn with furniture, setting it in perpetual gloom. Dying embers danced their final routines amongst burnt-out logs as the shadows cast about the room grew ever longer. Facing the fireplace was a mahogany armchair and in it, a face half hidden in the shadows.
His hands, clutched at the padded armrests, had skin that was drawn back and wrinkled. Draped with a thick woollen blanket and wearing an unerring visage he closely resembled a gargoyle of medieval times. The tomb-like silence permeated the mansion, broken only by the periodic rumble of phlegm as he fought to draw breath. Wisps of silver strand hair remained on his spotted scalp, serving as memorabilia of his former youth. In one of his hands he held a goblet of wine, with the crystal decanter containing more on a small wooden table adjacent to the armchair. His eyes were glazed over, a familiar sight of those looking into the past, their mind's eye darting round years of memories, yet locking the physical ones in place.
Ever so slowly, his vice-like grip, a facade obviously for someone so ancient, loosened. The goblet slipped from his hand, falling slowly towards the polished floorboards. Globules of deep, red wine fell from the mouth, catching the light of the dying embers in a scintillating array of coloured spheres. The muffled clang as metal hit wood resounded throughout the desolate house, pulling him asunder from his reverie, a repose which he had far too much time in these days. He strained from his reclined position to look for the perpetrator of his privacy, nerves pulled taut against his neck as he swivelled around with blood-shot eyes. The sudden move sent blood rushing to his head, light-headed and nauseous; he dropped back into his seat gasping, eyes half-shut as his left arm went into spasm from the exertion.
It was a pitiful sight.
He let loose a low raspy growl, for it was then that he realised he had dropped the wine goblet. Reasoning with himself, he decided to clean up the mess later, right then he readjusted the woollen blanket, which had came loose, and reclined once again in the armchair. The muffled patter of raindrops made him come to that conclusion all the quicker. He would clean up the mess later, for now all he wanted, was to drop back into the abyss of sleep, recollecting fragments of his past.
Pitter patter.
Monday, July 21, 2008
(S) Alamak. S$1 million for Mas Selamak capture
Nature
He clutched at the railing of the dilapidated pier. Sprays of surf broke upon the seawall, sending flecks of foam across his vision. The overcast sky seemed a portent of doom and storm clouds made their slow trek towards the mainland, as if guided by an unseen force. He rasped a dry laugh as the image of a pregnant cow flashed across his mind’s eye.
The storm, he admitted, was an unforeseen development. How wonderful nature was, to create such wonders in a lull between heartbeats. Hovering at the edge of the approaching storm, was a consciousness that promised raw, uncontrolled power. The violent waves and scything winds...
Hurt. Pain. Blood. The fight. The feelings came too fast. Too fast.
He shook his head clear. Obviously the storm was bringing back feelings he definitely wanted to suppress. Yet he yearned for it.
The storm was picking up, alone and unsheltered, he was easy prey on the wind-swept headland. He looked up at the angry sky, breathing in the salty air. The cows, bladders bursting, had convened just a few hundred yards out from the headland. Time for milking, he murmured and again, laughed. The fall of torrential rain made its slow march towards the mainland as he watched in utter fascination. He felt the raw power of nature; the static electricity in the air, heard the pounding of the billions of droplets of water, as they pounded their brethren.
Pounded...just like the fight. Just like, the Kill.
Did I really kill that man last night? He asked, in a rhetorical tone and ironically, responded, Yes, yes I did.
Violence, was it the core of every human being, the central factor of human nature that guided our every action?
What is this melodrama, he thought. Foolishness.
Like a charging ram, the Heliopolis struck.
And then the slicing wind slammed down, buffeting him against the railing whilst the rain assailed him. He bunkered down, knuckles white from gripping the rails. The splintered wood dug into his palm.
Hurt. Pain. Blood.
I was just so angry then. I felt...I felt as if I could do anything, I was, Invincible. Even then, his chest heaved in anticipation of the adrenaline rush. The loud roaring in his eyes drowned out even the cacophony of the storm. It felt so, so good.
I grabbed whatever was lying around and started bashing him with it. The solid whack against bone was so satisfying. So, I kept doing it. And I dint stop. Not when the bottle I was using broke. Not when my hands were bloody. Not when I was crying from exhaustion.
Not till he was dead.
Sinking to his knees, he whispered into the wind, I dint wanna kill him. Just hurt him, that ‘all.
The clouds tore apart to release yet more downpour as the main body of the storm approached. That terrible, uncontrollable power.
The product was a surge in wave crests, as they started breaking over the seawall. Yet, he was lost in his mind’s eye, genuflecting. His silhouette was barely visible in the driving rain. The pier groaned as its supports started to deteriorate under the crashing waves.
It gave a massive shudder, as it was enveloped by a soaring swell. When the swash abated, the silhouette was no longer there.
Nature. It was a terrible force to behold. Raw, driving, cruel and uncaring.
Yet which is the real monster;
Human nature, or mother nature?
Topic title contributed by: Kangqi
He clutched at the railing of the dilapidated pier. Sprays of surf broke upon the seawall, sending flecks of foam across his vision. The overcast sky seemed a portent of doom and storm clouds made their slow trek towards the mainland, as if guided by an unseen force. He rasped a dry laugh as the image of a pregnant cow flashed across his mind’s eye.
The storm, he admitted, was an unforeseen development. How wonderful nature was, to create such wonders in a lull between heartbeats. Hovering at the edge of the approaching storm, was a consciousness that promised raw, uncontrolled power. The violent waves and scything winds...
Hurt. Pain. Blood. The fight. The feelings came too fast. Too fast.
He shook his head clear. Obviously the storm was bringing back feelings he definitely wanted to suppress. Yet he yearned for it.
The storm was picking up, alone and unsheltered, he was easy prey on the wind-swept headland. He looked up at the angry sky, breathing in the salty air. The cows, bladders bursting, had convened just a few hundred yards out from the headland. Time for milking, he murmured and again, laughed. The fall of torrential rain made its slow march towards the mainland as he watched in utter fascination. He felt the raw power of nature; the static electricity in the air, heard the pounding of the billions of droplets of water, as they pounded their brethren.
Pounded...just like the fight. Just like, the Kill.
Did I really kill that man last night? He asked, in a rhetorical tone and ironically, responded, Yes, yes I did.
Violence, was it the core of every human being, the central factor of human nature that guided our every action?
What is this melodrama, he thought. Foolishness.
Like a charging ram, the Heliopolis struck.
And then the slicing wind slammed down, buffeting him against the railing whilst the rain assailed him. He bunkered down, knuckles white from gripping the rails. The splintered wood dug into his palm.
Hurt. Pain. Blood.
I was just so angry then. I felt...I felt as if I could do anything, I was, Invincible. Even then, his chest heaved in anticipation of the adrenaline rush. The loud roaring in his eyes drowned out even the cacophony of the storm. It felt so, so good.
I grabbed whatever was lying around and started bashing him with it. The solid whack against bone was so satisfying. So, I kept doing it. And I dint stop. Not when the bottle I was using broke. Not when my hands were bloody. Not when I was crying from exhaustion.
Not till he was dead.
Sinking to his knees, he whispered into the wind, I dint wanna kill him. Just hurt him, that ‘all.
The clouds tore apart to release yet more downpour as the main body of the storm approached. That terrible, uncontrollable power.
The product was a surge in wave crests, as they started breaking over the seawall. Yet, he was lost in his mind’s eye, genuflecting. His silhouette was barely visible in the driving rain. The pier groaned as its supports started to deteriorate under the crashing waves.
It gave a massive shudder, as it was enveloped by a soaring swell. When the swash abated, the silhouette was no longer there.
Nature. It was a terrible force to behold. Raw, driving, cruel and uncaring.
Yet which is the real monster;
Human nature, or mother nature?
Topic title contributed by: Kangqi
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
reality check
so my lifes been good lately to a large extent
not much stress and no social problems.
however, recently i ran into economical problems. but i shld be able to hold out fine.
politically, my class is stable. everyone's cool.
i made a new catch phrase with weilong.
ING NO NGOAK.
somehow i managed to twist ' you are mad' to sound like aforementioned.
so yea,
olvls coming. a bit stressful.
but ill make it through.
as soon as i can get over this dota addiction which i thought i had put down =/
man.
me studying too much SS? you can tell huh.
overall. my life has been relatively peaceful to a great extent. love yall.
not much stress and no social problems.
however, recently i ran into economical problems. but i shld be able to hold out fine.
politically, my class is stable. everyone's cool.
i made a new catch phrase with weilong.
ING NO NGOAK.
somehow i managed to twist ' you are mad' to sound like aforementioned.
so yea,
olvls coming. a bit stressful.
but ill make it through.
as soon as i can get over this dota addiction which i thought i had put down =/
man.
me studying too much SS? you can tell huh.
overall. my life has been relatively peaceful to a great extent. love yall.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
(S) Escape; i loved the rides, 'specially the Inverter. Man that was scary shit.
Escape
Gabriel held himself with pride.
Cutting a noble image, the man radiated control and calm. Yet despite all his outwardly appearances, he was afraid. For he, was a prisoner.
Barely a Sun ago, did the forces of Vruk Thul fall upon his squad, a scouting party for the main Templar legions. Outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, Gabriel was unable to get a messenger past the encircling enemy. Cruelly toyed with, he watched with rising despair as the barbarians picked their targets slowly. Luckily, or unluckily as he saw it, he was spared when Vruk Thul’s soldiers, squinting, had recognised his armour. The curved talon-shaped pauldrons not only proved an intimidating sight, but served also as an indication of a Knight of the Rose, loosely translating as a sub-commander in their own ranks. Delighted by their catch, his captors brought him to Dalgorn Keep, a day’s march from where the Templar host stood now.
Dalgorn Keep, a once proud bastion of the White Wizards, allies of the Templar, was now a shadow of its former glory. The presence of Vruk Thul permeated every corner of the keep, like a coiling miasma.
Gabriel was left in the dungeons. Several attempts suggested that the cell doors, in contrast to the state of dilapidation around the keep, stood fast against any breach. Shaken in faith, Gabriel could only sigh in defeat, sitting in the darkest corner of the cell; the code of the Templar rang loud in his mind, “Victory in death”. The Templar High Lord would not be pleased.
Soon, the afternoon sun sunk in the sky, filtering ember-light in the chamber. These too, in time, melted away, cast aside by the darkness that now filled the sky.
Gabriel jerked awake. Crouched in the corner, he watched as a guard, bearing his meal came around. His heart palpitated wildly and a myriad of dangerous thoughts sprung to mind. Sub-consciously, his hand strayed to the sword pommel at his side. Fingers grasped at air. Biting back a curse, he slunk further into the corner, planning his escape.
The belligerent guard peered at the unarmed prisoner in the dark, seemingly asleep in the night. This seemed to comfort him, as his shoulders drooped, relaxed, when he opened the door to the cell.
His shoulders remained relaxed, even as the figure that slouched against the cell walls lunched at him. The speed of movement that struck him never even registered. Quickly, Gabriel swapped positions with the guard; any unsuspecting soul would only see ‘Gabriel’ still against the cell walls.
Stealing across the compound, he went at lengths to remain undiscovered. His armour fond of talking out loud, had long since been discarded along the way. The guards posted at the gate were very close to falling asleep, and by the sound of their voices, also very drunk. Grim determination set in as he neared the exit.
A whistling sound whipped through the air, permeating the heavy silence that had settled down for the night. Surprised, Gabriel glanced down. A long shaft had found its way through his unprotected body. Clutching his belly, he turned to the source, a stoic expression on his face. Intense pain tugged at his features, yet he felt none of it as a fire within flared up. Running was pointless now.
Instead, he turned, running towards the gate guards, his roar of defiance ricocheting around the Keep. The guards could only watch in a drunken stupor as Gabriel, brandishing a sword drawn from their own scabbards, brought it down upon them.
He would not be taken in.
Turning his back to the locked steel gates, Gabriel faced the compound that was filling with soldiers by the second.
True, he would not be able to report back to the Templar army, but at least he would not be a prisoner. Yelling again, he dove into the throng of warriors, his sword finding its place in the sea of its brothers. The code of the Templar rang in his mind, “Victory in death”.
He had found his escape.
Bryan Freeman (01)
4B
22.4.08
Gabriel held himself with pride.
Cutting a noble image, the man radiated control and calm. Yet despite all his outwardly appearances, he was afraid. For he, was a prisoner.
Barely a Sun ago, did the forces of Vruk Thul fall upon his squad, a scouting party for the main Templar legions. Outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, Gabriel was unable to get a messenger past the encircling enemy. Cruelly toyed with, he watched with rising despair as the barbarians picked their targets slowly. Luckily, or unluckily as he saw it, he was spared when Vruk Thul’s soldiers, squinting, had recognised his armour. The curved talon-shaped pauldrons not only proved an intimidating sight, but served also as an indication of a Knight of the Rose, loosely translating as a sub-commander in their own ranks. Delighted by their catch, his captors brought him to Dalgorn Keep, a day’s march from where the Templar host stood now.
Dalgorn Keep, a once proud bastion of the White Wizards, allies of the Templar, was now a shadow of its former glory. The presence of Vruk Thul permeated every corner of the keep, like a coiling miasma.
Gabriel was left in the dungeons. Several attempts suggested that the cell doors, in contrast to the state of dilapidation around the keep, stood fast against any breach. Shaken in faith, Gabriel could only sigh in defeat, sitting in the darkest corner of the cell; the code of the Templar rang loud in his mind, “Victory in death”. The Templar High Lord would not be pleased.
Soon, the afternoon sun sunk in the sky, filtering ember-light in the chamber. These too, in time, melted away, cast aside by the darkness that now filled the sky.
Gabriel jerked awake. Crouched in the corner, he watched as a guard, bearing his meal came around. His heart palpitated wildly and a myriad of dangerous thoughts sprung to mind. Sub-consciously, his hand strayed to the sword pommel at his side. Fingers grasped at air. Biting back a curse, he slunk further into the corner, planning his escape.
The belligerent guard peered at the unarmed prisoner in the dark, seemingly asleep in the night. This seemed to comfort him, as his shoulders drooped, relaxed, when he opened the door to the cell.
His shoulders remained relaxed, even as the figure that slouched against the cell walls lunched at him. The speed of movement that struck him never even registered. Quickly, Gabriel swapped positions with the guard; any unsuspecting soul would only see ‘Gabriel’ still against the cell walls.
Stealing across the compound, he went at lengths to remain undiscovered. His armour fond of talking out loud, had long since been discarded along the way. The guards posted at the gate were very close to falling asleep, and by the sound of their voices, also very drunk. Grim determination set in as he neared the exit.
A whistling sound whipped through the air, permeating the heavy silence that had settled down for the night. Surprised, Gabriel glanced down. A long shaft had found its way through his unprotected body. Clutching his belly, he turned to the source, a stoic expression on his face. Intense pain tugged at his features, yet he felt none of it as a fire within flared up. Running was pointless now.
Instead, he turned, running towards the gate guards, his roar of defiance ricocheting around the Keep. The guards could only watch in a drunken stupor as Gabriel, brandishing a sword drawn from their own scabbards, brought it down upon them.
He would not be taken in.
Turning his back to the locked steel gates, Gabriel faced the compound that was filling with soldiers by the second.
True, he would not be able to report back to the Templar army, but at least he would not be a prisoner. Yelling again, he dove into the throng of warriors, his sword finding its place in the sea of its brothers. The code of the Templar rang in his mind, “Victory in death”.
He had found his escape.
Bryan Freeman (01)
4B
22.4.08
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Lazy. really =/
So who said that I din't post!
LOOK HERE YEA xP .
Its the 2nd of march and choir training has been tough.
7 DAYS MORE TO THE
CHOIR CONCERT.
and tickets are all sold-out.
The seniors are stepping down from choir soon...
I'mma miss my basses .
and there goes the Dmn Choir President of 'o8 .
Boy have four years passed by fast.
gah emo ...
LOOK HERE YEA xP .
Its the 2nd of march and choir training has been tough.
7 DAYS MORE TO THE
CHOIR CONCERT.
and tickets are all sold-out.
The seniors are stepping down from choir soon...
I'mma miss my basses .
and there goes the Dmn Choir President of 'o8 .
Boy have four years passed by fast.
gah emo ...
Thursday, March 13, 2008
This is SO NOT condescending.
Yes, yes. Oh so sorry, my legion of faithful fans.
I would have had wanted more free time to blog, but,
Alas, all is not as it should be. For I, have been spending most of my "school-break" in no other place than, school. Cursed be the fate that brought about such an ill combination of activities. A gruelling 2 hours of the ever-mystifying bio, followed up by the infinite possibilities of the A-math class.
So we'll skip the melodrama.
I've been having Choir sessions everyday this week. Reason being, the choir has been invited to perform at a concert this friday (tomorrow). It's theme-ed about Saving the Earth. Also!
MORE IMPORTANTLY:
DUNMAN CHOIR PROUDLY INVITES ALL DUNMANITES AND BRYAN'S FAN CLUB TO OUR PERFORMANCE NIGHT.
Victoria Concert Hall
8 April 2008
7.45pm
$12 - Stall seats, $15 - Circle seats (those at the second floor)
DO SUPPORT US, AND THERE WILL ALSO BE A COLLABORATION WITH OTHER SCHOOL CHOIRS UNDER MR TOH.
PLEASE INFORM ME OF YOUR ORDERS LOVELIES <3
Am currently hooked on
I would have had wanted more free time to blog, but,
Alas, all is not as it should be. For I, have been spending most of my "school-break" in no other place than, school. Cursed be the fate that brought about such an ill combination of activities. A gruelling 2 hours of the ever-mystifying bio, followed up by the infinite possibilities of the A-math class.
So we'll skip the melodrama.
I've been having Choir sessions everyday this week. Reason being, the choir has been invited to perform at a concert this friday (tomorrow). It's theme-ed about Saving the Earth. Also!
MORE IMPORTANTLY:
DUNMAN CHOIR PROUDLY INVITES ALL DUNMANITES AND BRYAN'S FAN CLUB TO OUR PERFORMANCE NIGHT.
Victoria Concert Hall
8 April 2008
7.45pm
$12 - Stall seats, $15 - Circle seats (those at the second floor)
DO SUPPORT US, AND THERE WILL ALSO BE A COLLABORATION WITH OTHER SCHOOL CHOIRS UNDER MR TOH.
PLEASE INFORM ME OF YOUR ORDERS LOVELIES <3
Am currently hooked on
Muse
Take a listen to their music, which lyrics sprout forth from conspiracy theories and the like. ( Not for non-atheists)
- Botak Bryan signing off.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
(S) i swear the title explains it all.
Teenagers
Do you ever wonder why, although the same age group, some of us are called teenagers and some, young adults?
Think young adult and what is the first thing that comes to mind? A smartly-dressed young man with obvious manners and upbringing, who carries himself well in society, making mature decisions that benefit the majority, morally sound ones at that. Someone we can trust. Trust, to do the work assigned to them, being resourceful in times of confusion. That would be an ideal young adult.
Then we think about teenagers. Unruly bunch of children who couldn’t give a thought about the well-being of others, caught up in their own personal pleasures and childish arguments with other like-teenagers. Dressed up in the latest fashion trends and constantly rebelling against their teachers and disobeying the rules.
But in retrospect, it all comes down to one thing, mentality. What defines mentality? Mentality is the way of thought of people and their outlook on things, or their perspective. What is a teenager’s mentality? Having fun, only living for the moment and not taking any responsibility for their actions. This then relates to maturity. What is maturity? It is the state in which an individual can take a step back and based on slow and careful consideration in accord to the society’s ethics, think about the wisest course of action that has the most beneficial long-term results. Take that and compare it to a teenagers perspective and it appears that the two are incompatible.
However, when we take maturity and look at a young adult, the results are strikingly similar.
It is why when we young kids act rashly, adults coin our actions as ‘a passing phase’. Yes, we children do mature, just that the rate of it differs from each individual. What affects or decides, our transition from children to either the branch of teenager or the branch of young adult? Understandably, society plays a huge role in our development. Yet, in the grand scheme of all things, in time, we teenagers, will merge with those young adults to become mature adults in our own rightful way.
Do you ever wonder why, although the same age group, some of us are called teenagers and some, young adults?
Think young adult and what is the first thing that comes to mind? A smartly-dressed young man with obvious manners and upbringing, who carries himself well in society, making mature decisions that benefit the majority, morally sound ones at that. Someone we can trust. Trust, to do the work assigned to them, being resourceful in times of confusion. That would be an ideal young adult.
Then we think about teenagers. Unruly bunch of children who couldn’t give a thought about the well-being of others, caught up in their own personal pleasures and childish arguments with other like-teenagers. Dressed up in the latest fashion trends and constantly rebelling against their teachers and disobeying the rules.
But in retrospect, it all comes down to one thing, mentality. What defines mentality? Mentality is the way of thought of people and their outlook on things, or their perspective. What is a teenager’s mentality? Having fun, only living for the moment and not taking any responsibility for their actions. This then relates to maturity. What is maturity? It is the state in which an individual can take a step back and based on slow and careful consideration in accord to the society’s ethics, think about the wisest course of action that has the most beneficial long-term results. Take that and compare it to a teenagers perspective and it appears that the two are incompatible.
However, when we take maturity and look at a young adult, the results are strikingly similar.
It is why when we young kids act rashly, adults coin our actions as ‘a passing phase’. Yes, we children do mature, just that the rate of it differs from each individual. What affects or decides, our transition from children to either the branch of teenager or the branch of young adult? Understandably, society plays a huge role in our development. Yet, in the grand scheme of all things, in time, we teenagers, will merge with those young adults to become mature adults in our own rightful way.
no seriously, i want this :/
Okay people, start saving up for the 3rd of january 2009.
This boy here wants an
ELECTRIC GUITAR
for his birthday ^^
share the love, pool some money, set up an investment fund.
I dont care, just get me my electric =p
Green Stratocaster is <3
This boy here wants an
ELECTRIC GUITAR
for his birthday ^^
share the love, pool some money, set up an investment fund.
I dont care, just get me my electric =p
Green Stratocaster is <3
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
I SAY NO TO TYRANNY.
ive been having a damned migraine for the past few days.
shits that wont be shitted.
work that cant be workeded.
teachers that cant teach (ok, so im just saying that to lengthen my rant)
cboxes that cant log in.
and lil' iris's 4th string just broke.
wtf. just when im dying with my pounding headaches my source of pleasure,
(apart from playing chinese chess o.o)
died on me.
booo.
oh. Linguini is tasty :D
shits that wont be shitted.
work that cant be workeded.
teachers that cant teach (ok, so im just saying that to lengthen my rant)
cboxes that cant log in.
and lil' iris's 4th string just broke.
wtf. just when im dying with my pounding headaches my source of pleasure,
(apart from playing chinese chess o.o)
died on me.
booo.
oh. Linguini is tasty :D
Thursday, February 21, 2008
A day out.
I went to Clarke Quay today for my class's *insert generic climatic ambience*
Geography Field Trip =O
Was total fun!
My classmates were told to gather at the atrium at 2.15pm afterschool so that Miss Poh, our geography teacher, could brief us on the tasks ahead.
So my team, comprising of lincoln, weilong, aloysius and muah, set off to Clarke Quay. Yes, on our own, since Miss Poh's thinking was along the lines of "Me. Students. Unglam. No."
We ran out of the school, as if we were in the Amazing Race, was a Rofl-isious moment. Cause all the kids around were like 'siao.'
Dropped off at Weilong's Place, to place our bags and rushed straight for the MRT station.
At the point in time Quan Feng's group, comprising of 2 non-colours, mingyi and engmeng, as well as Weijie, were ahead of the class, having alr reached the MRT station.
Boarding the 291, we ran into the rest of our classmates. Lincoln got touched by an auntie's umbrella =/
Alighting at the interchange, my group made a mad dash for the MRT, occasionally jumping up above the crowd, looking back at the rest of the class.
We were really in the Amazing Race mood o.o
We managed to catch the train headed towards City Hall. As did half of our class. The other half were just simply too late as the train rolled off. =DD
So now, we had 3 sections of people.
Quanfeng's group. Which were 4 stations ahead.
Our group + Diana's group and Ming Jun's group.
And Ivan's group and the rest of the ppl whom i forgot =DD
Lincoln gayed with his bunny.
(45 mins of boredom, understandable =D )
So when we all alighted at the City Hall Mrt Station, waiting to transfer train over to Dhoby, we realised that the next train would arrive in 11 mins, wtf =OOO
It was 3.22pm. We all had to reach Read Bridge, Clarke Quay, by 3.30pm.
It was a last ditch-effort. Muah team ran upstairs to take a taxi.
Good call. Cause the Taxi Driver of that Volkswagen was the coolest driver i've ever met.
We went into the spacious cabby. and the cabby had vulgarities flowing with his every sentence.
He was saying: ' Whoa, my cabbie is very popular de, but hard to get, im very popular with customers, midnight ah, 15 mins, zoop, go home alr' his singlish speak fitted in kinda cutely. ' Only the TP dont like me' 'TP?' Aloy asked. ' Traffic police la, u dunno ah, they see volkswagen taxi ah, straight aim one, see this guy with long hair and kanasai face, confirm chase me'
rofl.
He then pulled out of the taxi stand area, only to be blocked by cars, problem? no way. he then proceeded as if he owned the road, driving opposite the one way street, before doing a sharp turn to cut between two cars. Lol, really felt like a racecar, they way his engine reved. He drove dangerously, but that was what made it so fun!
He even checked out chicks as we drew by, comparing them with us. Lawl.
In less than 10 mins, we got to Clarke Quay. Thanked him and made off.
I give him the Best Cabbie Award for his social services.
We got to Read Bridge on time, beating Quanfeng's group, coming in 1st! Oh btw, there was no competition to begin with ._. was fun.
Miss Poh assigned us to Hooters. A bar catering to the clientele of 20 odd years. Their serving girls were ... Firm in ass-planation and had nice burger buns o.o Lol.
Ate lunch there =DD . and did research as well on the place.
( The toilet was filled with bikini babes =O )
(Us. After lunch =o )
Man the girl's were hot =/
And my burger was messy =X
So we finished up on the place and proceeded to just wonder about for awhile longer.
Walked by a bar that flashed random sexual jokes, caught this one.
So after climaxing, a sperm asked another,
"So how far is the fallopian tube from here?
The other sperm replied, "We've just passed the tonsils."
roflmao.
Came across this cafe, called C Clinic. Self-explanatory yea?
And many other random places of note.
.
After the day was over, Muah, Weilong and Lincoln went to watch Jumper.
9/10 =DD
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
(S) to be continued?
The moment she walked into the cafe, general chatter ceased. Dressed in a resplendent sapphire dress, the lady radiated a sense of great purpose...and charm. All eyes were on this stranger. Mine included. Her gaze fell on the bar and body followed, snaking through the patron-filled tables with so much grace that others could only have acquired from hours of rehearsal.
The lady sat down on the bar seat beside me. I looked away, intimidated, doing a double take as I noticed a sliver of metal running down her neck. It was a necklace, with the thin chain ending between her collarbones, just below her neck. There, hung a two designs that stirred feelings deep within, again, I looked away, down at my drink. Swirling my drink, I stared into my reflection, the churning of alcohol forming a semi-whirlpool effect distorted my image. I wanted to turn and talk to this mysterious woman, I wanted to know everything and anything about her. What was she doing in this town? And of her stature, compared to the hill-billies in the room?
Love. And music. Those where the motifs dangling on her necklace. Bitter-thoughts of my past started to rise. I pushed them down, ordering another shot of the drink. I needed to clear my mind.
Yet again, my thoughts drifted to her. What was it that I just couldn't let go of? I glanced sidewards, furtively. Our eyes met, locked. And I looked away, no, I just couldn't. My heart and mind conflicted. My mouth formed the words, yet my throat constricted. To my surprise, I found a hand on my arm, looking sideways, I stared into her eyes once more.
"Hi, I'm new here. Think you could show me around?" Relief from making a choice gripped me, turning with a sheepish smile, I cleared my throat...
The lady sat down on the bar seat beside me. I looked away, intimidated, doing a double take as I noticed a sliver of metal running down her neck. It was a necklace, with the thin chain ending between her collarbones, just below her neck. There, hung a two designs that stirred feelings deep within, again, I looked away, down at my drink. Swirling my drink, I stared into my reflection, the churning of alcohol forming a semi-whirlpool effect distorted my image. I wanted to turn and talk to this mysterious woman, I wanted to know everything and anything about her. What was she doing in this town? And of her stature, compared to the hill-billies in the room?
Love. And music. Those where the motifs dangling on her necklace. Bitter-thoughts of my past started to rise. I pushed them down, ordering another shot of the drink. I needed to clear my mind.
Yet again, my thoughts drifted to her. What was it that I just couldn't let go of? I glanced sidewards, furtively. Our eyes met, locked. And I looked away, no, I just couldn't. My heart and mind conflicted. My mouth formed the words, yet my throat constricted. To my surprise, I found a hand on my arm, looking sideways, I stared into her eyes once more.
"Hi, I'm new here. Think you could show me around?" Relief from making a choice gripped me, turning with a sheepish smile, I cleared my throat...
Sunday, February 17, 2008
(S) double pow-wow style!
;D I did two compos for Mrs Neo and Miss Tang ! ===> R33d !
====================================================================
Age
Age. A word associated with many conundrums and paradoxes. So wide is its application that a simple reference of it in a sentence can bring joy or wistful longing to the recipient.
Such an application can be in the form of a person meaning well to a senior of slightly past...40 years of age. “You’re ageing well,” says the well-wisher. The senior bristles at the non-existent insult.
Talk about ageing to anyone in their forties and prepare to face a wall of uncomfortable silence. Yet, women say they like their men older, as they are stable in both financial and emotional states. This would be true, would it not? Naturally, the longer one lives, the more opportunity one has to grow in character and to earn money, however, when we look at the older men, they say, “I’ll give anything to be young again.”, reminiscing on their youth and all those mysterious young women that seemed to abound in that long-past era. Little know that they stand an equal or perhaps even a higher chance at their current standing.
It is also said that, to age, is to acquire wisdom. Many a times it has been preached to us by our parents; we should listen to them, for they know better. Yet again, this seems to hold some truth to it, as obviously, the longer we live, the more experiences we gain and ultimately, the more we learn. Does this not mean that older people are to be treasured due to the immense hoard of ‘wealth’ they possess? For knowledge is also said to be wealth. Surely we, younger people, have something to glean from our elders, our superiors? Then if so, why, in our current society nowadays, is filial piety on a declining trend. Why, are young teens disrespecting their elders, turning a deaf ear to invaluable advice? Do we not realise what we are losing out? Or has the investment in ‘wealth’ taken a turn for the bad in this changing of times. Does what the seniors know hold no truth or substance in this modern era? Like a rotting carcass, does knowledge age and decay, leaving nothing but a shadow of its former glory in the form of a skeleton?
So taking a step back, we have women who like older men and older men who want to be younger in order to get women. Elders, with their invaluable knowledge that young people seem unable to treasure. There are people who take ageing with a pinch of salt and others that are in plain denial. Yet, there are some things in this world that everyone can look to and say, yes, age has done this one good. One of those would of course be wine. Is it not valued in terms of age? It is common practice for people to purchase a bottle of wine, look at its age and if it is ‘old’, exclaim and say, “This is good wine!”
Age, a word so broad, that it fits topics from all walks of life. Truly, it is a word that brings about many conundrums and paradoxes, yet holds its share of pleasure.
====================================================================
Teachers
My name is Bryan Freeman. Currently, I’m the top student in my year three cohort. Teachers use me as a good role model for everyone to emulate. Life at home and in school is stable. But it was not always the case, because you see, just a year ago, I was merely the second rank in my batch...second, from the back.
I was the school’s ‘Pai Kia’, a term commonly labelled to students that were, in their behaviour, more...expressive, notoriously of course. Not that my form teacher did much to curb my ‘free’ spirit. In fact, my form teacher was so lackadaisical in the conduct of her duties to a point that my class could go all out, falling short of rioting during class contact periods. Mrs Gahan, she despised us. Often hurting the class with her snide remarks on how ‘far’ we would make it in life, completely devoid of any pity.
Not surprisingly, we hated her as much, if not more. That was why in the week she was absent; our morale perked and then, was when a stranger changed my life.
Welcome Miss Tang, our relief teacher. In her first day of taking our class, she exuded warmth, warmth that we had never felt from Mrs Gahan. She interacted freely with the students and boosted their flagging spirits. Most of all, she respected us for who we were, and not what the school wanted us to conform to. Yet she held on to a measure of discipline, keeping our rowdy boys in check, if barely. Something that Mrs Gahan still had not managed to and most probably never will. She had heard about my...reputation in school and constantly talked to me. After awhile, I started feeling a close affinity to her. To me, she was the only one who truly understood what I was going through. Brought up in a broken household and abused by a father whose hands rarely held anything other than a can of beer, could really screw up a kid. Miss Tang showed me that however little we would like it to be, there was still some justice in this world. She managed to uphold the integrity of her profession.
Taking over lessons also meant that she taught us Physics, unlike Mrs Gahan, when we were unable to grasp the concepts of the lesson, she would go about it in another fashion till we caught on. Not to mention, she had a great sense of humour.
The week went by quickly, too quickly for anyone’s liking, before we knew it, Mrs Gahan was back. Inspired by Miss Tang’s engaging lessons, I continued working hard, even when the initial hype of her lessons dropped due to the sharp contrast of Mrs Gahan’s teaching. Pretty soon, I saw my subjects improving; I quit fooling in and after school. By the Mid-Year exams, I did well enough to rank in the second best class in the level. By year-end, I topped the standard. My family life improved after I sat down to talk things out with my father. Everything was changing.
Till this day, I hold Miss Tang in high esteem, admiring her willingness to go beyond the call of duty. That one week with her will forever remain etched in my memory.
====================================================================
Age
Age. A word associated with many conundrums and paradoxes. So wide is its application that a simple reference of it in a sentence can bring joy or wistful longing to the recipient.
Such an application can be in the form of a person meaning well to a senior of slightly past...40 years of age. “You’re ageing well,” says the well-wisher. The senior bristles at the non-existent insult.
Talk about ageing to anyone in their forties and prepare to face a wall of uncomfortable silence. Yet, women say they like their men older, as they are stable in both financial and emotional states. This would be true, would it not? Naturally, the longer one lives, the more opportunity one has to grow in character and to earn money, however, when we look at the older men, they say, “I’ll give anything to be young again.”, reminiscing on their youth and all those mysterious young women that seemed to abound in that long-past era. Little know that they stand an equal or perhaps even a higher chance at their current standing.
It is also said that, to age, is to acquire wisdom. Many a times it has been preached to us by our parents; we should listen to them, for they know better. Yet again, this seems to hold some truth to it, as obviously, the longer we live, the more experiences we gain and ultimately, the more we learn. Does this not mean that older people are to be treasured due to the immense hoard of ‘wealth’ they possess? For knowledge is also said to be wealth. Surely we, younger people, have something to glean from our elders, our superiors? Then if so, why, in our current society nowadays, is filial piety on a declining trend. Why, are young teens disrespecting their elders, turning a deaf ear to invaluable advice? Do we not realise what we are losing out? Or has the investment in ‘wealth’ taken a turn for the bad in this changing of times. Does what the seniors know hold no truth or substance in this modern era? Like a rotting carcass, does knowledge age and decay, leaving nothing but a shadow of its former glory in the form of a skeleton?
So taking a step back, we have women who like older men and older men who want to be younger in order to get women. Elders, with their invaluable knowledge that young people seem unable to treasure. There are people who take ageing with a pinch of salt and others that are in plain denial. Yet, there are some things in this world that everyone can look to and say, yes, age has done this one good. One of those would of course be wine. Is it not valued in terms of age? It is common practice for people to purchase a bottle of wine, look at its age and if it is ‘old’, exclaim and say, “This is good wine!”
Age, a word so broad, that it fits topics from all walks of life. Truly, it is a word that brings about many conundrums and paradoxes, yet holds its share of pleasure.
====================================================================
Teachers
My name is Bryan Freeman. Currently, I’m the top student in my year three cohort. Teachers use me as a good role model for everyone to emulate. Life at home and in school is stable. But it was not always the case, because you see, just a year ago, I was merely the second rank in my batch...second, from the back.
I was the school’s ‘Pai Kia’, a term commonly labelled to students that were, in their behaviour, more...expressive, notoriously of course. Not that my form teacher did much to curb my ‘free’ spirit. In fact, my form teacher was so lackadaisical in the conduct of her duties to a point that my class could go all out, falling short of rioting during class contact periods. Mrs Gahan, she despised us. Often hurting the class with her snide remarks on how ‘far’ we would make it in life, completely devoid of any pity.
Not surprisingly, we hated her as much, if not more. That was why in the week she was absent; our morale perked and then, was when a stranger changed my life.
Welcome Miss Tang, our relief teacher. In her first day of taking our class, she exuded warmth, warmth that we had never felt from Mrs Gahan. She interacted freely with the students and boosted their flagging spirits. Most of all, she respected us for who we were, and not what the school wanted us to conform to. Yet she held on to a measure of discipline, keeping our rowdy boys in check, if barely. Something that Mrs Gahan still had not managed to and most probably never will. She had heard about my...reputation in school and constantly talked to me. After awhile, I started feeling a close affinity to her. To me, she was the only one who truly understood what I was going through. Brought up in a broken household and abused by a father whose hands rarely held anything other than a can of beer, could really screw up a kid. Miss Tang showed me that however little we would like it to be, there was still some justice in this world. She managed to uphold the integrity of her profession.
Taking over lessons also meant that she taught us Physics, unlike Mrs Gahan, when we were unable to grasp the concepts of the lesson, she would go about it in another fashion till we caught on. Not to mention, she had a great sense of humour.
The week went by quickly, too quickly for anyone’s liking, before we knew it, Mrs Gahan was back. Inspired by Miss Tang’s engaging lessons, I continued working hard, even when the initial hype of her lessons dropped due to the sharp contrast of Mrs Gahan’s teaching. Pretty soon, I saw my subjects improving; I quit fooling in and after school. By the Mid-Year exams, I did well enough to rank in the second best class in the level. By year-end, I topped the standard. My family life improved after I sat down to talk things out with my father. Everything was changing.
Till this day, I hold Miss Tang in high esteem, admiring her willingness to go beyond the call of duty. That one week with her will forever remain etched in my memory.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
'seconds' has a very weird definition...
omg. black was so goth. xO .
Tests and more tests coming up! suckehh.
Im going for my facial again today ;D
happy bday weilong! ( o.o)
Tests and more tests coming up! suckehh.
Im going for my facial again today ;D
happy bday weilong! ( o.o)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Yea ! So the initial hype of CNY is over =D
$$$$$$ =p
------------------------------------------
And I'm down with the flu =/
Should recover by the morrow =D
So, I've spent a good half of the morning reading up on my Chem x.X, wordy shett =/ Gonna take a break for lunch and continue on it ;D
So much for a comeback post =p
all we know is falling . ohhh oh ohh.
$$$$$$ =p
------------------------------------------
And I'm down with the flu =/
Should recover by the morrow =D
So, I've spent a good half of the morning reading up on my Chem x.X, wordy shett =/ Gonna take a break for lunch and continue on it ;D
So much for a comeback post =p
all we know is falling . ohhh oh ohh.
Friday, February 8, 2008
ca$h d4y. (k1ddi|\| )
So it's like first day of visitation?! :D
Ang pao ang pao duo duo lai ^^
Cam-Whored the entire day:
(At home)
================================
(In the lift) Yippie, whole family wearing stripes.
================================
(In the car)
================================
(At ahmaa's house)
================================
(At Burgerking, almost-dead)
================================
& im crap at blackjack >=( . Gambled away all me moneh =X
So im not supposed to let ppl knowwww. but what the heck =x .
Went to my father's friend's place.
Today I went steady with her ;D . wheeee. 802040 = 04 20 08 ;p gong xi fa cai!
They had karaoke session.
shes a cool girl =) . got over me committment fears alr ! lookin forward to a gr8 rs wit her ;D
My ears hurt.
Ilu baby ;)
Applaude for good attempt though.
Tmr's a free day! Me family's gonna go cycle in t3h morning. then go out in the afternoon to play
pool. I've asked Han along to join =D. After that him and I will head over to Zer's for dinner!
Gongxifacai!
Ang pao ang pao duo duo lai ^^
Cam-Whored the entire day:
(At home)
================================
(In the lift) Yippie, whole family wearing stripes.
================================
(In the car)
================================
(At ahmaa's house)
================================
(At Burgerking, almost-dead)
================================
& im crap at blackjack >=( . Gambled away all me moneh =X
So im not supposed to let ppl knowwww. but what the heck =x .
Went to my father's friend's place.
Today I went steady with her ;D . wheeee. 802040 = 04 20 08 ;p gong xi fa cai!
They had karaoke session.
shes a cool girl =) . got over me committment fears alr ! lookin forward to a gr8 rs wit her ;D
My ears hurt.
Ilu baby ;)
Applaude for good attempt though.
Tmr's a free day! Me family's gonna go cycle in t3h morning. then go out in the afternoon to play
pool. I've asked Han along to join =D. After that him and I will head over to Zer's for dinner!
Gongxifacai!
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