the tens were cancelled. bloody hell. Training was essentially fun, skipped physical and went straight to team runs. Even i got a run, till luqman decided he was not tired and went back in, he probably thought i was having too much fun. the new balls suck. We got new pads too, and took them out for a run. I can personally tell you how they felt, seeing as how i was the one holding the pad and didn't get a chance to hit it. I swear it was like BRING DOWN THE FUCKING GIANT DAY. I spent that part of training do my best to throw them to the ground, it's not easy to really tackle with a pad. Dammniit why did tens get cancellled????
yesterday at the gym, i got my shoulder press technique corrected, to go all the way to the full range of motion. I didn't really understand jiao lian, as you all know wo de hua yi shi hen char, in any case, this other guy present explained it to me later, telling me about full range of motion and stuff and how the 300 guys were trained (the movie 300? ya that one.) I tell you it's pure madness. they got that look in 8 weeks, their discipline is god like, go check the guy who trained them at www.gymjones.com if you don't believeee me.
Gonna get fit...real fit. just watch.
I cannnooot believe i missed the actual halloween! i did catch the fake one on sat night.. hahaha pics are up finally =D (but it was oh so wrong)
go see..
http://s221.photobucket.com/albums/dd171/mosske/Party%20Night/
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
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...
Thursday, October 25, 2007
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
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
Sunday, October 21, 2007
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..
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..
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, October 15, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
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.
-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.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
numbers
pen these numbers onto my wrist,
they etched them there, here's to eternal bliss.
red marks of remembrance, forfeit
this life time. thats it.
onto a stone, you carve my name.
here the chisel sparks alone,
frighten the night, alls the same.
but all you've got are the bones.
i remember then, those days, they stay
with your forever, like these letters.
banish the pain, the thought. just too late.
a feverent animosity, just bitters
any taste.
during those days i thought,
i'd never live to see another face.
now i see the life they've bought
torture every day, torment laced.
i see your face, out here, the cold weather.
i wish i hadn't ever.
the pain i gush you'd never understand.
now it's time for you make a stand.
it's all in these numbers on my wrist.
so cold, so old, so bold, so bliss.
the gases and hunger and work,
my childhood missed.
starved to the bone, locked away, like a beast
haunting this forest, no more peace.
so will you run and leave me and
just these numbers on my wrist?
they etched them there, here's to eternal bliss.
red marks of remembrance, forfeit
this life time. thats it.
onto a stone, you carve my name.
here the chisel sparks alone,
frighten the night, alls the same.
but all you've got are the bones.
i remember then, those days, they stay
with your forever, like these letters.
banish the pain, the thought. just too late.
a feverent animosity, just bitters
any taste.
during those days i thought,
i'd never live to see another face.
now i see the life they've bought
torture every day, torment laced.
i see your face, out here, the cold weather.
i wish i hadn't ever.
the pain i gush you'd never understand.
now it's time for you make a stand.
it's all in these numbers on my wrist.
so cold, so old, so bold, so bliss.
the gases and hunger and work,
my childhood missed.
starved to the bone, locked away, like a beast
haunting this forest, no more peace.
so will you run and leave me and
just these numbers on my wrist?
Monday, September 03, 2007
Third Draft
March of the Grey Wolves
Silent eyes leer,
watch and wait.
The cold dark night spurns,
only horrid haste.
Through this darkness, the mist, this face,
into this wood, an unholy race.
Fearless, every step it takes,
Red eyes peering,
through the woods, much deeper,
luring,
the mist ensorcelles
and foot steps patter
Upon
The forest floor.
Hunger binds its heart,
this seeking silent hunter.
It moves ever
Intelligently, deceptively, so cunningly.
What poor creature, is it preying?
You can almost hear the poor thing
Praying.
Tracking its sweet scent
Under shadow of deep moonlight.
Creaking branches and snapping twigs,
Fear fraught the disturbed air.
Oh, how the mists froths
And shimmers sneakily silent.
Hiding. playing. watching. praying.
They are moving.
The quarry found!
Her eyes tear stained,
like Cassandra's distant cries.
Vainly heard.
Tonight she'll die.
Her prophecy complete, unresounding
through madness.
A brother to the right, a sister
on the left and
The jaws snap,
Vicious teeth shine silver
Thirsting through the pale moon night.
Quiver.
Blood rush, a grey and silver flash.
Jaws closed shut,
Through the sinews, so sweet.
The life vein that now bleeds,
paints the white forest floor,
A pretty red carpet.
A mad howl erupts and
shrills through the night.
Every creature eyes the dark.
Beware,
The march is on.
Silent eyes leer,
watch and wait.
The cold dark night spurns,
only horrid haste.
Through this darkness, the mist, this face,
into this wood, an unholy race.
Fearless, every step it takes,
Red eyes peering,
through the woods, much deeper,
luring,
the mist ensorcelles
and foot steps patter
Upon
The forest floor.
Hunger binds its heart,
this seeking silent hunter.
It moves ever
Intelligently, deceptively, so cunningly.
What poor creature, is it preying?
You can almost hear the poor thing
Praying.
Tracking its sweet scent
Under shadow of deep moonlight.
Creaking branches and snapping twigs,
Fear fraught the disturbed air.
Oh, how the mists froths
And shimmers sneakily silent.
Hiding. playing. watching. praying.
They are moving.
The quarry found!
Her eyes tear stained,
like Cassandra's distant cries.
Vainly heard.
Tonight she'll die.
Her prophecy complete, unresounding
through madness.
A brother to the right, a sister
on the left and
The jaws snap,
Vicious teeth shine silver
Thirsting through the pale moon night.
Quiver.
Blood rush, a grey and silver flash.
Jaws closed shut,
Through the sinews, so sweet.
The life vein that now bleeds,
paints the white forest floor,
A pretty red carpet.
A mad howl erupts and
shrills through the night.
Every creature eyes the dark.
Beware,
The march is on.
Friday, August 31, 2007
can't sleep.
once again.. insomnia bites. I took two decalgren tonight, but I don't feel sleepy ):.
I just wrote a poem. Now i'm watching disney movies. God i'm sure a romantic...I can't stand myself. hopeless love stories and disney movies. All the sweet moments in life, run through my mind like a dream. Cept i can't sleep.
I wonder where this will all end up?
I'm trapped by time. Day is now night, while night has inadvertently become day. I can't even feel a drop of tiredness. So sad. All that's left to me now in this world of mine, where any form of human contact is slumbering, is left to carthartic piece of text that flows from somewhere in the far reaching nether regions of my grey matter. I seriously need more friends on the other side of the globe. The martian equatorial timezone is most hilarious.
The mind really wonders once the clock hits 3am, by 4, there's nothing left to do cept blog-surf. There is no other more heinous a deed that I can make myself go through than either clicking through mindless assault of the english language and directionless (though i must say, it's rather pointless at 5am to actually coherently combine sentences into justifiable rambling with some form of ambitious progressive reading material. so i am guilty of mindless rambling) ranting upon the chronical of their daily lives or, the couples. I HATE COUPLES. I can't stand couple pictures. In a personal and professional way. I guess I shouldn't continue to expand the verbiage upon this affair, since it is to them a rather personal opinion on how they would like to look in their candid photographs. Bowen says i'm a paradox, but we all can't help being two-legged working paradoxes of creatures meant to crawl along a forest floor.
Andy Williams fills the early morning air. Boys watching girls all over again. I wonder why it happens, and it happens everywhere, guys watching girls, girls watching guys and all the watching. It makes me wonder of all the lucky chaps out there, the simple minded, the easy-going ones, who seem so lucky. It's so easy for them to fall into relationships. Then i wonder why, the very need for human companionship dogs the complicated in thought, the eccentric and intelligent. Maybe we're not so intelligent after all. It should all seem so simple, after all compared to calculus or comprehending Niche or analysing Dickens, arts that have been around for mere centuria, love has been around for millenia. Clytaemenstra's final decision to kill her child-killing husband Agamemnon lies within his crime of returning with the beautiful and quite obscuring cassandra. Love lies a lot of the great greek stories and this is a trend that follows through the rest of history. It has been around for so long, and apparently it is so simple, that the simplest can easily understand it. Or maybe it is not a matter of comprehension, rather it is a matter of fussiness. The more finicky and punctilious we are over our choice for a mate, having been brought up to choose the best. The one that fits the lock and key hypothesis the most. It doesn't seem even like a matter of perception, underlying, there is no other way to ignite feelings, so i question again, even if it is rethorical, how does it come about? Why do the simple people in simple lives seem so much more happier off?
i just wish...
I just wrote a poem. Now i'm watching disney movies. God i'm sure a romantic...I can't stand myself. hopeless love stories and disney movies. All the sweet moments in life, run through my mind like a dream. Cept i can't sleep.
I wonder where this will all end up?
I'm trapped by time. Day is now night, while night has inadvertently become day. I can't even feel a drop of tiredness. So sad. All that's left to me now in this world of mine, where any form of human contact is slumbering, is left to carthartic piece of text that flows from somewhere in the far reaching nether regions of my grey matter. I seriously need more friends on the other side of the globe. The martian equatorial timezone is most hilarious.
The mind really wonders once the clock hits 3am, by 4, there's nothing left to do cept blog-surf. There is no other more heinous a deed that I can make myself go through than either clicking through mindless assault of the english language and directionless (though i must say, it's rather pointless at 5am to actually coherently combine sentences into justifiable rambling with some form of ambitious progressive reading material. so i am guilty of mindless rambling) ranting upon the chronical of their daily lives or, the couples. I HATE COUPLES. I can't stand couple pictures. In a personal and professional way. I guess I shouldn't continue to expand the verbiage upon this affair, since it is to them a rather personal opinion on how they would like to look in their candid photographs. Bowen says i'm a paradox, but we all can't help being two-legged working paradoxes of creatures meant to crawl along a forest floor.
Andy Williams fills the early morning air. Boys watching girls all over again. I wonder why it happens, and it happens everywhere, guys watching girls, girls watching guys and all the watching. It makes me wonder of all the lucky chaps out there, the simple minded, the easy-going ones, who seem so lucky. It's so easy for them to fall into relationships. Then i wonder why, the very need for human companionship dogs the complicated in thought, the eccentric and intelligent. Maybe we're not so intelligent after all. It should all seem so simple, after all compared to calculus or comprehending Niche or analysing Dickens, arts that have been around for mere centuria, love has been around for millenia. Clytaemenstra's final decision to kill her child-killing husband Agamemnon lies within his crime of returning with the beautiful and quite obscuring cassandra. Love lies a lot of the great greek stories and this is a trend that follows through the rest of history. It has been around for so long, and apparently it is so simple, that the simplest can easily understand it. Or maybe it is not a matter of comprehension, rather it is a matter of fussiness. The more finicky and punctilious we are over our choice for a mate, having been brought up to choose the best. The one that fits the lock and key hypothesis the most. It doesn't seem even like a matter of perception, underlying, there is no other way to ignite feelings, so i question again, even if it is rethorical, how does it come about? Why do the simple people in simple lives seem so much more happier off?
i just wish...
Thursday, August 30, 2007
i have school tomorrow.
It's half past two in the morning.
there's school tomorrow.
My body can't seem to find sleep. It's exhausted, from the scrumming, and the abrasions all itch. There's a game this friday.
I've been doing a lot of work these last two weeks. I've been looking for someone. I'm pretty sure now that I've found some parts of him. I think there still pieces to complete.
Her face still haunts me. Her voice echoes in my head sometimes. I feel I need closure to an unfortunate event. I need to speak with her. I need to talk to her. I need to clarify and regain. I wonder when that will happen. Certainly, it won't take place tomorrow.
My sketchbook is nearly full, it's at the three quarter mark. It's a scary experience, now since I have gotten attached to it. I love to look through the pages, and see my thoughts and sketches and additions. I wonder how long more it will last, and what the next one will be.
My life is currently severly depressed, I'm taking SSRIs to elevate the mood. I've spent much time reflecting, justifying the mood, the reasons, the existance of such foul days. It comes to me that such three annoying reason, so vexing to me. A girl hangs over my head, she is a spectre to words unsaid. Teachers are there alongside the world, on the left, the useless, they do not know, too the right the good, encouragement lines their countenances. Stress hangs around my life, I don't have enough games in it, to give me the endorphins to release it.
I like that word, endorphins. Sounds so free and easy, so much uplifting and pleasure they bring. Like a pair of dolphins, alone, breaching the sunset waves into the orange horizon they seek. It reminds me, the image, how much of a romantic I am. In love with ideas and words and pictures, that I wish to share.
I had a glass of whiskey tonight. It was old whiskey, aged 12 years, and probably another decade from the looks of the bottle. My parents don't drink whiskey, but i do. It tasted sweet and firery, and warmed my insides with each slug. Much like my own personality. Maybe that's why I like whiskey. It's warm. It was better than the two cans of beer I had last night. Whiskey clearly is my drink, even now it warms my belly. But notice, I'm not high. I wish I could get high on less, it would definitely be cheaper.
I have a photo in my book. A pair of eyes. They are beautiful eyes. Pretty and bright, caring and kind. An innate delligence and passion seem to exude from them. I wish I could let their owner know what eyes she possesses.
I think of tomorrow. A place I haven't laid a foot into in two weeks. A life that really was nonexistent, ends that I left unfinished, ties and business that must be done. I'm going back there tomorrow. To face the past I left behind. I wonder what will happen then.
I wish I needn't go.
It's half past two in the morning.
I have school tomorrow.
there's school tomorrow.
My body can't seem to find sleep. It's exhausted, from the scrumming, and the abrasions all itch. There's a game this friday.
I've been doing a lot of work these last two weeks. I've been looking for someone. I'm pretty sure now that I've found some parts of him. I think there still pieces to complete.
Her face still haunts me. Her voice echoes in my head sometimes. I feel I need closure to an unfortunate event. I need to speak with her. I need to talk to her. I need to clarify and regain. I wonder when that will happen. Certainly, it won't take place tomorrow.
My sketchbook is nearly full, it's at the three quarter mark. It's a scary experience, now since I have gotten attached to it. I love to look through the pages, and see my thoughts and sketches and additions. I wonder how long more it will last, and what the next one will be.
My life is currently severly depressed, I'm taking SSRIs to elevate the mood. I've spent much time reflecting, justifying the mood, the reasons, the existance of such foul days. It comes to me that such three annoying reason, so vexing to me. A girl hangs over my head, she is a spectre to words unsaid. Teachers are there alongside the world, on the left, the useless, they do not know, too the right the good, encouragement lines their countenances. Stress hangs around my life, I don't have enough games in it, to give me the endorphins to release it.
I like that word, endorphins. Sounds so free and easy, so much uplifting and pleasure they bring. Like a pair of dolphins, alone, breaching the sunset waves into the orange horizon they seek. It reminds me, the image, how much of a romantic I am. In love with ideas and words and pictures, that I wish to share.
I had a glass of whiskey tonight. It was old whiskey, aged 12 years, and probably another decade from the looks of the bottle. My parents don't drink whiskey, but i do. It tasted sweet and firery, and warmed my insides with each slug. Much like my own personality. Maybe that's why I like whiskey. It's warm. It was better than the two cans of beer I had last night. Whiskey clearly is my drink, even now it warms my belly. But notice, I'm not high. I wish I could get high on less, it would definitely be cheaper.
I have a photo in my book. A pair of eyes. They are beautiful eyes. Pretty and bright, caring and kind. An innate delligence and passion seem to exude from them. I wish I could let their owner know what eyes she possesses.
I think of tomorrow. A place I haven't laid a foot into in two weeks. A life that really was nonexistent, ends that I left unfinished, ties and business that must be done. I'm going back there tomorrow. To face the past I left behind. I wonder what will happen then.
I wish I needn't go.
It's half past two in the morning.
I have school tomorrow.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Warm Things.
I like warm things. It's a realization, I came to terms with recently. I'm coming out as a warm person :). I found this out recently while I was warming my insides with a delicious warm cup of hot tea, while snuggling in my sweater in nice cozy cold room. The sudden thoughts of comfort and sweet warmth wrapped around my head. Oh what luxuries (:, though that lasted all of five seconds till i was drawn back to photosynthesis.
Now I've often told people of how I enjoy the cold. Yes, the nice chilly, cool temperatures, like that of London in early summer, or late spring. Ahhh, just so sensual. I realized I liked those cold places because the opportunity to put on a jacket or sweater presented itself. All nice and snug XD. I guess that's why I tell people when I'm old, I'd like to curl up in an armed coach, with a blanket, a cup of steaming hot chocolate, a good book, right by the fire, with the cut purring on the rug.
HMmm... Haha hot chocolate is the way to go! It's sure to send a smile to my face upon savouring the sweet silky texture of the hot chocolatey warmth. I'd take a hot meal over ice cream anyday. Hot cakes and syrup or an eggs benedict over cereal and cold milk any morning. It's so delicious to taste, warm textures... I guess that's why I like to cook and prepare my food. I took the opportunity to break out of my sulking stupor on wednesday and whip up lunch for the family. On a budget of ten bucks, and what was at home, I cooked a batch of my speciality pasta. Spagetti Carbonara. OOOOOH so GOOOD! hahaha, even though i miss judged the amount the cream, way too little, but never mind, it turned out nice and creamy on the noodles. I wonder what to cook next.
I think this recent food cravings is due to that lit essay i'm writing for great ex. on the significance of food and meals in the book. It's an essay which is driving me crazy! Not long over due, I have a HUGE mental block in writing it, and in expositing about about the feasts in the novel, I find myself thing about Beef steak sarnies, or roast beef. I don't know. It's honestly driving me crazy. I hate writing lit essays. I always get mental blocks. Maybe I don't have enough content or I'm just clueless. ah well anywho... I need to be going now. Sleep awaits.
Monday, August 20, 2007
The Final
Dir En Grey
解けてしまう意図を見つめ・・・文字に出来ない左手です
血を流す度に生きてる理由・・・見い出す言葉が鮮やかで
手の中には愛すべき人さえも華々しく散って
手の中には生きた意味刻んでも虚しき華と知る
The Final
一つ二つと増え続ける・・・何故に笑えない餌となる？
深き獄の心決して戻れはしない
明日を触れられない自虐的敗北者
Suicide is the proof of life
手の中には愛すべき人さえも華々しく散って
手の中には生きた意味刻んでも虚しき華と散る
So I can't live So I can't live
そう無くしたモノは
So I can't live So I can't live
もう産まれない
So I can't live So I can't live
生きてる証さえ
So I can't live So I can't live
求められない歌
Let's put an end・・・The Final
未遂の蕾咲かせよう・・・
Dir En Grey
解けてしまう意図を見つめ・・・文字に出来ない左手です
血を流す度に生きてる理由・・・見い出す言葉が鮮やかで
手の中には愛すべき人さえも華々しく散って
手の中には生きた意味刻んでも虚しき華と知る
The Final
一つ二つと増え続ける・・・何故に笑えない餌となる？
深き獄の心決して戻れはしない
明日を触れられない自虐的敗北者
Suicide is the proof of life
手の中には愛すべき人さえも華々しく散って
手の中には生きた意味刻んでも虚しき華と散る
So I can't live So I can't live
そう無くしたモノは
So I can't live So I can't live
もう産まれない
So I can't live So I can't live
生きてる証さえ
So I can't live So I can't live
求められない歌
Let's put an end・・・The Final
未遂の蕾咲かせよう・・・
Monday, August 13, 2007
fairytale ending.
Here I am again, the night before school Monday, rushing homework and not doing work. Rather, I'm following a creative itch to blow up my mind's impulses into something as tantalizing as I can possibly sizzle up on my white blank grill. On the menu today, we have a special, a fairy tale ending.
We all want one don't we? And some of us want two or three of them, after all, not everything we do is going to end with that fairy tale conclusion. In a more than perfect world (since ours is already perfect. I would like it no other way), I'd be in OCS now, waiting for book out to go see my tall lady and count the days down before I complete my service, go overseas to med school, graduate with flying colours, yada-yada-yada, white picket fence and two point three kids (little jimmy got stuck some of the way). You get the point.
Basically it's an ideal notion albeit a most boring one. All the things I put down, they're all checkpoints in life, white picket fence and all. They're also points of arrival. This is a concept that I learned from Brother Adrian today during a most delicious breakfast, I digress, especially to highlight the most lovely mouthwatering breakfast of heavenly carrot cake, tea and butter cakes that we had to end the choir retreat. I think it's important to note this breakfast, since it's the first one I’ve had all week. Alright, enough rambling, there's a point to make and a topic sentence to install. During breakfast, Brother was giving me counseling on my woes with the General Paper syllabus, a cross that I carry, together with a fresh-outta-the-box teacher. He told me, as an example of an essay question he would take, 'It is better to travel, then to arrive.' Clearly, folks, a classic gp question, only missing the end tags we know so well, that if we met them, they'd be staked and burnt, like DYA and discuss.
Naturally, the young naive padawan was obfuscated. After all, arrivals are accomplishments, where you can do so much more, why would you want to be stuck in travel? After all you have to deal with annoying stewardesses who won't serve you that vodka orange cause you look underage and the babies crying and that annoying guy leaning your shoulder. The master of course, clearly unfrazzled, took his young student under his arm and said, 'you do not gain in achievement, in arrival, cause you're already there. It would be better to travel, as it is in the process that we gain and find more of ourselves.'
It made me realize something new today. Fairytales are so great not because of the fantasy involved, but the great dangers and processes that the protagonist, usually a handsome and charming, slightly shy Prince by the name of David, has to go through to seek, in most cases usually his true love. You think it's easy fighting a dragon, resisting the temptation of a sexy, hot seductress of an evil villainess secondary character and having tea while being bound by shackles with an ugly old witch that holds your true love prisoner easy? You try.
Fairytales appeal to us when we're young and naive because of the allure that we find in the end that the Prince makes his marriage to the Princess and that happily ever after. Ask any non-sceptical teenage girl about love and a happily ever after and they will sigh and swoon. The need for accomplishments, causes the imbuing confidence on someone, yet why do parents continue to tell their children all these stories that seem to only sow the seed of greed in children? I finally realized today, not only cause it shuts up the little brats and keeps them out of trouble for a good 15 minutes, half an hour if you're good, it's also because they realized that it is not the reaching, but how the reaching took place that is the key to life.
The fairytales we all know and love: sleeping beauty, snow white, beauty and the beast. The princes all have many dangers that they needed to face to win that gal, and that is what our parents want to teach us. They tell tales not of danger and magic and love, but of bravery to overcome the danger, the magic of experiences to guide us and the development of love that binds it all together. That is why we will continue to hand these stories down the generations. That and also since they're really nice stories.
I just read a feature article about Yaoming's wedding to his childhood crush Ye. She' 1.9m, and everything a basketballer would want in a basketballer woman. I guess we can't all find our little giant girl like Yao did and have that fairytale ending. Ok...ok I guess while I've found my Little Giant Girl, I won't get my fairytale ending, like his. The rest of you can dream on about your normal heighted girls then :P. But, I find i often daydream about holding her hand and all the couplely things, all these things that happen upon arrival. I spend a lot of time thinking about what I'd like to do If she and I were together, often accompanied by sighs. I never put much thought of this as arriving and I never really spent much into the actual processing of the arrival. It's easier to think of the dilemma rather than the solution, easier to slip into the role of Orsino, rather than the one of Viola. Though that is how Yao found his fairy tale ending. It took him 8 years and countless rejections. I wonder why I'm so scared of getting rejected. I'm so young and that's just part of the process. Sometimes being a perfectionist creates its own set of problems. It also lands you in a deeper rut.
I guess we can't all follow Yao the way he held his fairy tale ending. It's probably been copyrighted by now. You know, all these celebs making their own names. But, we can all find our own. It's really a simple, arduous task. Just get off our asses and do something about it and hang on, as long as it takes. That's why I’m still chasing my dreams. If you don't dream.. then you're walking to no where. So dream, cause running's more fun and much faster too. That's how we find our fairytale ending. Enticing init? You should take too.
We all want one don't we? And some of us want two or three of them, after all, not everything we do is going to end with that fairy tale conclusion. In a more than perfect world (since ours is already perfect. I would like it no other way), I'd be in OCS now, waiting for book out to go see my tall lady and count the days down before I complete my service, go overseas to med school, graduate with flying colours, yada-yada-yada, white picket fence and two point three kids (little jimmy got stuck some of the way). You get the point.
Basically it's an ideal notion albeit a most boring one. All the things I put down, they're all checkpoints in life, white picket fence and all. They're also points of arrival. This is a concept that I learned from Brother Adrian today during a most delicious breakfast, I digress, especially to highlight the most lovely mouthwatering breakfast of heavenly carrot cake, tea and butter cakes that we had to end the choir retreat. I think it's important to note this breakfast, since it's the first one I’ve had all week. Alright, enough rambling, there's a point to make and a topic sentence to install. During breakfast, Brother was giving me counseling on my woes with the General Paper syllabus, a cross that I carry, together with a fresh-outta-the-box teacher. He told me, as an example of an essay question he would take, 'It is better to travel, then to arrive.' Clearly, folks, a classic gp question, only missing the end tags we know so well, that if we met them, they'd be staked and burnt, like DYA and discuss.
Naturally, the young naive padawan was obfuscated. After all, arrivals are accomplishments, where you can do so much more, why would you want to be stuck in travel? After all you have to deal with annoying stewardesses who won't serve you that vodka orange cause you look underage and the babies crying and that annoying guy leaning your shoulder. The master of course, clearly unfrazzled, took his young student under his arm and said, 'you do not gain in achievement, in arrival, cause you're already there. It would be better to travel, as it is in the process that we gain and find more of ourselves.'
It made me realize something new today. Fairytales are so great not because of the fantasy involved, but the great dangers and processes that the protagonist, usually a handsome and charming, slightly shy Prince by the name of David, has to go through to seek, in most cases usually his true love. You think it's easy fighting a dragon, resisting the temptation of a sexy, hot seductress of an evil villainess secondary character and having tea while being bound by shackles with an ugly old witch that holds your true love prisoner easy? You try.
Fairytales appeal to us when we're young and naive because of the allure that we find in the end that the Prince makes his marriage to the Princess and that happily ever after. Ask any non-sceptical teenage girl about love and a happily ever after and they will sigh and swoon. The need for accomplishments, causes the imbuing confidence on someone, yet why do parents continue to tell their children all these stories that seem to only sow the seed of greed in children? I finally realized today, not only cause it shuts up the little brats and keeps them out of trouble for a good 15 minutes, half an hour if you're good, it's also because they realized that it is not the reaching, but how the reaching took place that is the key to life.
The fairytales we all know and love: sleeping beauty, snow white, beauty and the beast. The princes all have many dangers that they needed to face to win that gal, and that is what our parents want to teach us. They tell tales not of danger and magic and love, but of bravery to overcome the danger, the magic of experiences to guide us and the development of love that binds it all together. That is why we will continue to hand these stories down the generations. That and also since they're really nice stories.
I just read a feature article about Yaoming's wedding to his childhood crush Ye. She' 1.9m, and everything a basketballer would want in a basketballer woman. I guess we can't all find our little giant girl like Yao did and have that fairytale ending. Ok...ok I guess while I've found my Little Giant Girl, I won't get my fairytale ending, like his. The rest of you can dream on about your normal heighted girls then :P. But, I find i often daydream about holding her hand and all the couplely things, all these things that happen upon arrival. I spend a lot of time thinking about what I'd like to do If she and I were together, often accompanied by sighs. I never put much thought of this as arriving and I never really spent much into the actual processing of the arrival. It's easier to think of the dilemma rather than the solution, easier to slip into the role of Orsino, rather than the one of Viola. Though that is how Yao found his fairy tale ending. It took him 8 years and countless rejections. I wonder why I'm so scared of getting rejected. I'm so young and that's just part of the process. Sometimes being a perfectionist creates its own set of problems. It also lands you in a deeper rut.
I guess we can't all follow Yao the way he held his fairy tale ending. It's probably been copyrighted by now. You know, all these celebs making their own names. But, we can all find our own. It's really a simple, arduous task. Just get off our asses and do something about it and hang on, as long as it takes. That's why I’m still chasing my dreams. If you don't dream.. then you're walking to no where. So dream, cause running's more fun and much faster too. That's how we find our fairytale ending. Enticing init? You should take too.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
HAPPPY! XD
I'm happy, really happy for the first time in three weeks. I don't know how to explain it, but i reconnected with God, I feel at peace and now, things are looking bright XD
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
A Rose Ungiven
You are
A rose ungiven.
It seems so wasted, just withering there.
A failed existence, unappreciated, unfulfilled
unreached potential.
you poor rose, never held, never smelt.
never clutched to the bosom of a loved one given.
A life of wonder. your dying world.
And I sit here, to ponder.
What could have been if I had bothered
A try. Walked to her, and muttered a few
Helloes and goodbyes.
And watch her shyly smile as to her I give,
You.
To her cheeks, would a red as deep as your's appear,
And smiles we would have shared.
But I didn't.
Only an 'if', it runs through our minds.
I see her face staring in the distance. I wonder.
Silence echoes in my ear, eroding the music of love
played here.
And I sit, and watch as you wither.
Watch each red petal blacken and fall,
amid the dying screams of rock and roll riffs and mauls
I feel as you do.
So silently,
Withering away at the 'if'.
A rose ungiven.
It seems so wasted, just withering there.
A failed existence, unappreciated, unfulfilled
unreached potential.
you poor rose, never held, never smelt.
never clutched to the bosom of a loved one given.
A life of wonder. your dying world.
And I sit here, to ponder.
What could have been if I had bothered
A try. Walked to her, and muttered a few
Helloes and goodbyes.
And watch her shyly smile as to her I give,
You.
To her cheeks, would a red as deep as your's appear,
And smiles we would have shared.
But I didn't.
Only an 'if', it runs through our minds.
I see her face staring in the distance. I wonder.
Silence echoes in my ear, eroding the music of love
played here.
And I sit, and watch as you wither.
Watch each red petal blacken and fall,
amid the dying screams of rock and roll riffs and mauls
I feel as you do.
So silently,
Withering away at the 'if'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)