Someone else's kids.

you ever get that feeling that it's good that they aren't your kids. heh heh. This was from a event i had to cover..never ever even suspected how stoned kids can be. It was 11am btw. Guess it's too early even for them.

I realized i'm not cut out to be a father either. I'd be a very very bad one, I wouldn't do the whole fake-praise-selfesteem-boosting thing, and I probably wouldn't be able to make them feel loved. And from the shoot, i learned i'm don't even know how to make em laugh. Sigh...

Dead Tree
Dir En Grey

枯れ木に水を…泥水に映る君もう…
夢よ希望よ大空に描いた理想
情熱の紅
愛して止まない君はもう…
飴より甘い理想はただの理想

No one wants the present

指を指して　さよなら
額に向けられた冷たい銃口に愛を
赤いコートのこの子も押し付けられた今を抱き抱え涙を呑み込む

何故?何故?繰り返される
二度と癒えない
何故?何故?繰り返される
枯れた心に…

Love, tenderness, freedom and peace

(english)
Here is some water for the dead tree... I see your reflection in the dirty water...
Dreams and aspirations Your ideals in the big sky
Passionate Red
The one I loved so much...
Ideals being sweeter then candy are just ideals

No one wants the present

Point your finger Goodbye
I feel love on my forehead at gun point
Even the child with the red coat swallows her tears as she faces reality

Why? Why? Over and Over
It will never heal
Why? Why? Over and Over
My dead heart...

Love, tenderness, freedom and peace

lost: one giant. last seen walking aimlessly...

I wonder where my world meant.
Honestly, it came crashing down one me this month.
Guess I've been rather stupid. And I wish I'd never given, especially to those who don't deserve it.

especially you.
but i learnt a hard lesson and it further backs the truth, most of this world sucks. They don't question the truth... just willing to follow and judge..
doesn't matter.. i wouldn't want to get stuck with that...
i wish you'd just leave my mind alone..
heh sounds like i have psychosis..

it was robbery folks.. sure and steady.. egregious like a thief at night. pure robbery.

South Africa have won the world cup, for the second time in it's history. For the first time without scoring a freaking try. And i've never seen so many damned dumps... england just gave up with 15 minutes to go. they deserved it though, Wilkinson couldn't make touch on many occasion and it went straight into the hands of montegonry, who is a kicker. Now if the opposition fullback can kick.. and catch, i wouldn't be booting the damn ball right into his paws. that's just silly...Wilkinson didn't even kick much.

yesterday was a better match.. much more entertaining. Well done argentina, you did better than both the finalists.. that was excellent! and CHABAL GOT OWNED by the argentinian No.5. HE FLEW... nasty late tackle.


my results are back, i hate having to wait for fate to cast judgement ):
please let me promote...
and depression made me miss OGL interview.. i'm really distraught..why put the damn interview on results day???? arrrrgh

now i need some sanity..

First steps

today I was rewatching episode four of season III of House, the one where the bad doctor treats an autistic patient named Adam for worms. Throughout the episode House manages to connect with the young boy in ways that only House can, managing to use primitive means of psychological reasoning to coax the small thing into breathing in the knockout agent (he applied the mask to himself first and breathed in quite a few gulps of air, though he might have been trying to get high). At the end of the show, in a display of gratitude unprecedent to the boy, Adam presents house with his beloved PSP. On both occasions his parents nearly wet themselve with joy on what they called were Adam 'breakthroughs' This got me thinking, why do we celebrate and embellish something that is so simple to development and growth of our young?

Of course clearly, Adam's parents have reason to be opening the good champaign, but for the rest of us? We're expected to walk by the age of one, mumble a few mispronounced words by two and link more of those together in incoherent sentences by three. But if everyone's doing it, what makes it so celebratory? Baby's first steps, whip out the home video. Baby's first words, jump to the phone to call everyone from your mother to that uncle's second cousin's hairdresser's wife whom you've probably haven't called in about a month, and I was refering to the former.

Could it not a celebration of trimuph, but rather a celebration of relieve that causes the otherwise illogical jump to the phone? The simple notion that their child is normal and thriving as it is supposed to elicits such reactions. Why? Could it mean that the parents are relieved that they can go about their lives as close to normalcy as possible, not requiring to spend extra energy, money or stress to deal with a 'special' child. It's not easy to bear one, since not only will trips to see doctors suck finances, then parents will have to deal with the misunderstood social life and sociological problems that the child will surely encounter.

Maybe I'm just in a cynical mood, after all, terrible twos are supposed to be able to mutter such disyllabic words as mama, no no, want food and what not. I think I'd be more surprised if they suddenly sprung Cystic Fibrosis Transmembrane Regulator upon me than if they merely suddenly decided to use their over worked vocal chords for something more useful than the unicomprehensible crying.

Apart from this post actually having this disclaimer that this is merely a random rant, I need to nevertheless state that I really do like kids. Don't mind me seriously, I'm in one of my moods.

Off to run now kids! Bye.

A try for Villainelle..

Adolescent Confusions.
David Yung

I wonder where the world went?
It just passed me by ever since,
When the Little Giant Girl was sent.

She was like an angel from heaven lent,
her pretty eyes sparked so clear, so smart.
I wonder where the world went?

The timing was inconsiderate, now I relent,
I started, stumbled and spluttered,
When the Little Giant Girl was sent.

Our eyes crossed paths, and a sweet scent
filled the night air and all did go...
I wonder where the world went?

T'was only a few seconds, only to be bent,
broken in two, as confusion filled the dampened air,
When the Little Giant Girl was sent.

How I wish that the smile we shared with great intent,
Could have a little longer lasted, now,
I wonder where the world went,
When the Little Giant Girl was sent.

crying.... a lost soul... all the world's dying.

It's the end, I think.

The week past the exams is over and done with, I've finished my task, I wonder how I'm dealing with the answer, where ever will this lead and whereat will I be at the end of the road? How curious, it irks me. Just one confusion to another and I know I can so easily force the conclusion out, I know I have the necessary connections to do so, yet do I have the necessary ethics to wait? Would I be an obstacle, a crack in the mental exterior, would I be the chink in the defense that will cause a tall monument to fall? I don't know. Maybe you do... maybe you should tell me... It's up to you.

Two years have so fast gone by, all my friends have grown up around me, moving around, moving along this life. Soon they'll be gone. I'll miss them, I know I will. I hate change. I wonder why? I use to think I could adapt to anything, any given situation that was thrown at me. I still can. Yet why do I hate the fact they'll be leaving, even when they aren't too close to me? Only a few. A select, patient enough to see past eccentricities. I wonder...

AC games has come and gone, the second one. Good job no. 31, you actually did something original, filled with potential. You should have done it during orientation. Bonding a group of people in the most thorough way is to put them through the dirt, literally, through the mess and mud and the bad treatment, the suffering makes them come closer. In their minds, the need to believe that it's actually better than it is, due to the choice involved in choosing that group. The effort that was put in. oh, how the mind hides it's scares from consciousness so well... But that class will be so close together. You won't see people leaving AC games so early next year if you had done it as such.

I took a lot pictures over the last two days. I'm happy with the catch and I discovered a good photographer. Though it's made me question, why do I find myself drawn to take pictures of people? To strip them to down to what they are, devoid of their masks that they hide behind, insasmuch as to see their souls. Camera's do steal your soul. Chow says that I'm looking for the familiarity of the people in order to find abstractness that holds them. To make them alien. But I worry upon another angle hereat. Inasmuch as I am drawn to them to find abstract messages to hide myself from society, is it because of my inability to connect with the majority of society that causes me to seek that forbidden fruit through another means. It is cruel irony to make a sociable person unable to find common ground with most of soceity. Or is it just this society? Or is it just me?

It's so tiring and lonesome being a sociopath. I think that's where I am. I started out two years ago, going for abstract images, mainly of nonhuman objects, now I'm drawn to the face? I'm questioning my every aspect...Why is it undesirable in society to have that taint of eccentricity? Would it make her think of me in a different light?

And i wonder... What would a normal life have been? The one that follows conventionality? The one without the intelligence, the observational and analytical skills, the eidetic memory, the ingenuity and resourcefulness. The one without the hyperactivity and vivid hyper imagination. Without the impulsivity... What would that be like? To simply follow convention in ever asepect, to be the same, unnoticable? Would I have found the large group of friends I crave for, the company I desire, to be able to meet people all over the place, and just have fun talking shop. In assiduous normality, to every minutiae. I can't even dream of what it would be like. Even with my imagination and knowledge, I cannot even fathom what a normal convention life as the average joe would be! I don't know....

I hope you feel lucky...
Life is better on the other side,
Greener on the other pastures..
Over here is only an abyss
And as Nietzsche said, 'When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you.' I'm looking into it. Will it see the holes in me? Especially the long vacant one on the left side of my chest.

AC Games II

bubbles *click me to expand*

Teenage Queen
Aiden

I can see the void,
Dark like prison.
Take me to the eyes of this boy
And now dance with me.

I can see the world,
Sharp like paper.
Take me to the eyes of this girl.
And now dance with me.

He found this one long kiss.
The shadow saved forever and we're safe tonight
I'm falling to the ending.
Dance with me.

Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen.
(Dream so dark, I feel so beautiful now.)
Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen and it never stops.
The world we live won't laugh this hard.
The weight of the world won't seem so bad now.

Well, can you feel the noise?
Cut like ribbon,
Take me to the girl and this boy.
And now dance with me.

He found this one long kiss,
The shadow saved forever and we're safe tonight
I'm falling to the ending.
Dance with me.

Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen.
(Dream so dark, I feel so beautiful.)
Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen.
(Dream so dark, I feel so beautiful now.)
Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen and it never stops.
The world we live won't laugh this hard.
The weight of the world won't seem so bad now.

Break break break break, now I'm coming to,
Tonight tonight I'm a teenage queen.
Take take take take, now I'm coming to.
She walks by, I feel serene.

Break break break break, now I'm coming to,
Tonight tonight I'm a teenage queen.
Take take take take, now I'm coming to.
She walks by, and I feel serene.

Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen.
(Dream so dark, I feel so beautiful.)
Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen.
(Dream so dark, I feel so beautiful now.)
Oh tonight I'm a teenage queen and it never stops.
The world we live won't laugh this hard.
The weight of the world won't seem so bad now.

time.

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.

-Rose Kennedy

here i am once again, on another test, a test of my faith. But why do i seem to always fail such tests? I do trust God. Yet, I find myself once again being distanced. Well I pray that I will pull through.

Though here time is playing deja vu, the names and the faces changed, but the story remaings insomuch as the same. I just missed baccalaurette service as photographer again, and tomorrow is AC games. Once again, i'm going to to take photos. I wonder if the final event that floods this occasion will largely be the same. I sincerely hope that it will not be disastrous repeat.

So strange though, the author of this somewhat intermittent and disengaged article, is definitely not the same as the one of last year. Now I'm actually itching to hit the books again. That's right, I want to study! I cannot extoll upon the need to re-chalk the huge holes that flood my notes like potholes on the m-42 or other highways in Britain. The ideallic model student nerd.

They say success is 99% hardwork and 1% intellect. I know I already fulfill the second require, heck I'm pretty sure I more than fulfill it, I overcompensate for the first one with the second. That was definitely true of the past year, and somewhat this year, but I know I slogged away for my exams this year. I have never worked harder for any other papers before. Refining techniques, and playing by the rules, yet why do I feel so unaccomplished? Am I really a reject of the system, or is it posssible that that is just a simple illusion that has become buried deep within my head? Yet there's also an element of surprise and randomness to any thing you do. Predictions of probablity can only take you so far, so I guess success is really 94% hardwork, 1% intellect and the rest is luck. Maybe the latter is something I'm not really endowed with. Maybe.

Though there's one thing I do know, I don't want to go through it anymore. Failure is devastating, and everytime I've been hit with it, I bounce back. But it steals from you, robs you, beats you, leaves you barren and awaiting death. Egregiously, it strikes, ever severly. It's not easy to bounce back, honestly, the feeling of desolation is horrid, I hate to experience it again. It's really hard to grow grass upon dry arid land. That land is the land of failure, and like nomads you travel this land til the rain starts to thunder above and pepper you with its tiny droplets of sweet arableness. But the scars still stay.

I really hope it doesn't happen again.

a little pick me up

Turtle-Head

Lovely Smiles

Baby n Me

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