I have no idea what that means, but it looks cool. I'm writing not because I have something to write about, but simply for the sake of it.
Yesterday, while I was on MSN, I saw something about a thirteen-year-old blogger who was famous and being invited to all sorts of fashion shows and blah. Apparently some fashion people saw her blog, which reviews, I think, the clothes that wacky fashion designers come up with.
One thing's for sure: if we ever met, we would never see eye to eye.
First of all, the fact that she likes, and keeps up with, trends of the day. Call me old, stiff, close-minded, whatever you like, but I simply cannot understand modern fashion. Just like abstract art. Who in the real world actually keeps up with these things? Seriously. In my opinion, if it's not your job to critique or design or model, and you're not a celebrity, then why do you bloody care?
(I'm not criticising her, actually, since it is her job now. I think.)
Then the way her blog is written. Okay, I know, I know, she's not a writer, but just reading it makes me feel frivolous and rather groupie-like. Of course, it doesn't matter, since she's a critic and not an author. Just sayin'.
My dad said I should start commenting on books, but most unfortunately, there's no Borders or MPH or Popular or any proper fiction bookstore here. So bluek. I don't think I wanna be the next great book critic prodigy or whatever, anyway.
My head is throbbing, my vision is splotching, my temper is irritable and I gotta go.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Okay, I know I said I won't post anymore negative stuff. But p-lease. It's only bad stuff that's exciting, i'nn'it? What's that phrase? Negative bias. Yeah well, it's usually the embarassing/angering/saddening things that we brood about, that we think about. So I'm not surprised that I've already broken the "write about good stuff" promise.
Sorry I didn't post sooner, but when I wanted to yesterday, there was some kind of bug affecting Google. I couldn't bloody type. I couldn't even sign in! Very frustrating, I can tell you. That was one of the few times I got mad at Google, even though I was using their map for my Geography folio. I suddenly wasn't so grateful.
Yesterday, I went to school feeling a li'l aggrieved. You see, on Thursday (here we go with the choronicles!), a classmate did something rather disgusting (read: lewd) to another classmate. Of course, Classmate 2 got mad and tried to give Classmate 1 his due, but laughing all the while. And so did the others. In fact, the only unsmiling face was my own. I was stricken, shocked that she did not seem as angry as I expected, weird as that may sound.
It reminds me of another instance in my class when boys were pelting pieces of paper at the girls' behinds. It was right in front of the teacher, and us girls scattered, but the teacher didn't seem angry - she did not reprimand them in the least. But then, who can? If you do, it's not like they'll understand. I really felt like crying with frustration. Try making a crawling plant stand on its own without tying, and you'll see what I mean. There was, like, no solution. How to make them comprehend the discomfort, embarassment and whatever feelings caused, when they couldn't, unless they themselves were girls.
I have to thank another friend of mine now. I was ranting to him to unburden myself, when he said the most encouraging, reverse-psychological (though I know he does not mean it to be) phrase I could hear: "What can you do? It's all fate." Which absolutely convinces me there IS a way, even if I'm just 13.
What more, it RAINED during assembly. The SPM students were laughing at us. When it started to drizzle, the teacher on stage didn't even seem to notice, and all the more those comfortably seated under the roof. They should've known, I can't help but think - the sky was as dark as a crow's wing, and quite as foreboding. Anyway, the teacher just mentioned that he had to end his speech due to weather complications when the drizzle became an absolute downpour. The students, including myself, of course, bolted. Some even screamed. Yeeowza.
That was pretty dumb.
I would have more to talk about, but I gotta sign off for lunch now. Tata.
Sorry I didn't post sooner, but when I wanted to yesterday, there was some kind of bug affecting Google. I couldn't bloody type. I couldn't even sign in! Very frustrating, I can tell you. That was one of the few times I got mad at Google, even though I was using their map for my Geography folio. I suddenly wasn't so grateful.
Yesterday, I went to school feeling a li'l aggrieved. You see, on Thursday (here we go with the choronicles!), a classmate did something rather disgusting (read: lewd) to another classmate. Of course, Classmate 2 got mad and tried to give Classmate 1 his due, but laughing all the while. And so did the others. In fact, the only unsmiling face was my own. I was stricken, shocked that she did not seem as angry as I expected, weird as that may sound.
It reminds me of another instance in my class when boys were pelting pieces of paper at the girls' behinds. It was right in front of the teacher, and us girls scattered, but the teacher didn't seem angry - she did not reprimand them in the least. But then, who can? If you do, it's not like they'll understand. I really felt like crying with frustration. Try making a crawling plant stand on its own without tying, and you'll see what I mean. There was, like, no solution. How to make them comprehend the discomfort, embarassment and whatever feelings caused, when they couldn't, unless they themselves were girls.
I have to thank another friend of mine now. I was ranting to him to unburden myself, when he said the most encouraging, reverse-psychological (though I know he does not mean it to be) phrase I could hear: "What can you do? It's all fate." Which absolutely convinces me there IS a way, even if I'm just 13.
What more, it RAINED during assembly. The SPM students were laughing at us. When it started to drizzle, the teacher on stage didn't even seem to notice, and all the more those comfortably seated under the roof. They should've known, I can't help but think - the sky was as dark as a crow's wing, and quite as foreboding. Anyway, the teacher just mentioned that he had to end his speech due to weather complications when the drizzle became an absolute downpour. The students, including myself, of course, bolted. Some even screamed. Yeeowza.
That was pretty dumb.
I would have more to talk about, but I gotta sign off for lunch now. Tata.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Haunts, hatred, haze, and H1N1. (and holiday homework, of course.)
Spuuukeynesss. Ghost month again. Isn't it strange? Rather like a climax, in a way. These months, since the football competition, my classmates have been exchanging ghost stories at every event - birthdays, camps, and whenever the teacher is out. I don't know what's their obsession with the supernatural, but I do believe it's infecting me. And I know it can't be healthy.
To tell the truth, I was so spooked out on Wednesday night that I COULD NOT SLEEP. I was sleepy but didn't dare go to sleep, because then I would have to turn off the light. And in my state of mind I was sure something would grab my leg as I was getting back in bed. I watched my phone clock with an uneasy eye. Terrified that midnight would strike.
I fell asleep in the end, but woke up twice. My dad switched the light off for me, I think. When I woke up in the morning I didn't dare open my eyes for fear of what I'd see. I waited till my mum had to come into my room and turn on the light before I got out of bed. In the bathroom I leaned against the wall to avoid looking in the mirror, worried that someone would be behind me. I avoided the toilet unless it was urgent, and almost didn't brush my teeth.
Aren't I superstitious.
On another note, one of my good friends had a sudden fit of temper yesterday. I didn't realise how severe until today. It was very severe. But she obviously vented her spleen quite completely - she did not say anything particularly evil-tempered today. I hope she's herself again. A single moment of anger is better than a long drawn-out feud.
The haze is worsening, so much that we cannot detect it by scent anymore - it has been affecting our nostrils for too long. My eyes sting even now. I hate haze. a glance outside my house tells me how thick it is. H1N1 infiltrated the school, by the way. A fourth-former got it. Yikes.
Aaaaaaaaaagh. I have tonnes of folios to do, and not a single inclination to! Gobshite. I have to finish my civic folio by the end of the hols. Oh, sucks to the world of folio work! Not to mention homework. And the exams. Yippee yea yea.
I wish all the people in my class - especially the more rowdy ones - could read Lord of The Flies. It's not written very interestingly, but it's dark and ought to give them a prick at their conscience. If they bothered to understand it. Then maybe they'd be more respectful of rules.
Holidays. No fun involved. Just folios.
To tell the truth, I was so spooked out on Wednesday night that I COULD NOT SLEEP. I was sleepy but didn't dare go to sleep, because then I would have to turn off the light. And in my state of mind I was sure something would grab my leg as I was getting back in bed. I watched my phone clock with an uneasy eye. Terrified that midnight would strike.
I fell asleep in the end, but woke up twice. My dad switched the light off for me, I think. When I woke up in the morning I didn't dare open my eyes for fear of what I'd see. I waited till my mum had to come into my room and turn on the light before I got out of bed. In the bathroom I leaned against the wall to avoid looking in the mirror, worried that someone would be behind me. I avoided the toilet unless it was urgent, and almost didn't brush my teeth.
Aren't I superstitious.
On another note, one of my good friends had a sudden fit of temper yesterday. I didn't realise how severe until today. It was very severe. But she obviously vented her spleen quite completely - she did not say anything particularly evil-tempered today. I hope she's herself again. A single moment of anger is better than a long drawn-out feud.
The haze is worsening, so much that we cannot detect it by scent anymore - it has been affecting our nostrils for too long. My eyes sting even now. I hate haze. a glance outside my house tells me how thick it is. H1N1 infiltrated the school, by the way. A fourth-former got it. Yikes.
Aaaaaaaaaagh. I have tonnes of folios to do, and not a single inclination to! Gobshite. I have to finish my civic folio by the end of the hols. Oh, sucks to the world of folio work! Not to mention homework. And the exams. Yippee yea yea.
I wish all the people in my class - especially the more rowdy ones - could read Lord of The Flies. It's not written very interestingly, but it's dark and ought to give them a prick at their conscience. If they bothered to understand it. Then maybe they'd be more respectful of rules.
Holidays. No fun involved. Just folios.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Food for thought -
Maybe it's just me, but it seems that things always seem better when you look back on them. The present lays the facts down bare, clean and honest, but the past exaggerates them. Another weird thing about life, along with where the socks go after laundry is done.
I also see that the less you care about society, the better it treats you. Either that, or you just don't realise when you're being outcast. When I was ten and thought friends were life, pretty much everyone hated me, including myself. Now I'm three years older and couldn't care less who does. It feels gooood.
However, I'm still trying to unravel certain mysteries. Like why most people instinctively fear facing the truth, or rational discussion. Really. Example: when you have a fight with your friend and he or she wants to talk about it, you dread the moment. Or when you know someone likes/hates you, and are scared that he or she wants to talk to you about the feelings between the both of you. It's strange.
Also, I am adopting a new doctrine: to step in someone else's shoes. When my teacher yells at the class, I won't blame her instantly. I'll try to understand why she's upset and attempt to remedy it. If possible. And I'll take a new motto I got from Anne of Windy Willows: "If you carry a smiling visage, to the glass you meet a smile." Although it won't be easy smiling at people with a mask over my mouth and nose. Figures.
I think I should be more assertive. Maybe I'm acting rather doormat-ish in my efforts to be a forgiving, diplomatic person. Perhaps I'm too forgiving. But blah. I so need my sleep now.
I also see that the less you care about society, the better it treats you. Either that, or you just don't realise when you're being outcast. When I was ten and thought friends were life, pretty much everyone hated me, including myself. Now I'm three years older and couldn't care less who does. It feels gooood.
However, I'm still trying to unravel certain mysteries. Like why most people instinctively fear facing the truth, or rational discussion. Really. Example: when you have a fight with your friend and he or she wants to talk about it, you dread the moment. Or when you know someone likes/hates you, and are scared that he or she wants to talk to you about the feelings between the both of you. It's strange.
Also, I am adopting a new doctrine: to step in someone else's shoes. When my teacher yells at the class, I won't blame her instantly. I'll try to understand why she's upset and attempt to remedy it. If possible. And I'll take a new motto I got from Anne of Windy Willows: "If you carry a smiling visage, to the glass you meet a smile." Although it won't be easy smiling at people with a mask over my mouth and nose. Figures.
I think I should be more assertive. Maybe I'm acting rather doormat-ish in my efforts to be a forgiving, diplomatic person. Perhaps I'm too forgiving. But blah. I so need my sleep now.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Unpleasant things.
Okay, so most of my posts were about not-so-nice stuff. Like moving. Eugh. I guess I do need to lighten up my blog. But let me have a final rant before I do!
I find that many of my friends, mostly the girls, have things against each other. It's so scary and complicated. Like, one moment they're behaving like the best of friends and the next one of them is fuming once the other has left. I'm not very sure how, perhaps it's in-built instinct. It's kind of hard to do, but I think I've mastered the art of it, though the cover does slip once in a while. But now I'm moving, and it puts things in a whole different perspective. Why should I have enemies when they could be friends? Albeit not close ones, but good enough. I'm trying to strike up an acquaintance with my Malay classmates, namely Zaitul and Aliff, since I'm not particularly close to them. I guess the language barrier is a factor - I'm not used to speaking Malay outside the scouts. Figures.
Anyway, moving on!
I've decided that I should have a crush on someone this year. It's not very controllable, but I'm determined to have one on whoever catches my fancy. This year has been exceedingly dull and not as much a romantic whirlwind as it was last year. Probably thanks to the absence of the latest songs on the PA system, the new headmistress and my not-so-closeness with th fifth-formers. Plus, the freedom-fun has moved aside to make way for study-fun. But mostly because I don't have a crush on anyone!
Please ignore the above paragraph. I know I'm foolish, since I can't help who I crush on, or if I crush on anyone at all.
Continuing my glib babbling...
Instead of heading inland, I went for the Bike Fest at the Eagle Ranch today. It was so cool and we got lost in all the Tamans of 4th mile trying to find a shortcut thru traffic. B-E-A-Utiful bikes. Sorry I couldn't go to your house, Jia Yi - Happy Birthday!
I love the world. I think I've come up with a new idea - to think of what made me smile each day. As plagarised from Jen of YWS fame. Anywhoodledoodle, I'd better sign off now.
I find that many of my friends, mostly the girls, have things against each other. It's so scary and complicated. Like, one moment they're behaving like the best of friends and the next one of them is fuming once the other has left. I'm not very sure how, perhaps it's in-built instinct. It's kind of hard to do, but I think I've mastered the art of it, though the cover does slip once in a while. But now I'm moving, and it puts things in a whole different perspective. Why should I have enemies when they could be friends? Albeit not close ones, but good enough. I'm trying to strike up an acquaintance with my Malay classmates, namely Zaitul and Aliff, since I'm not particularly close to them. I guess the language barrier is a factor - I'm not used to speaking Malay outside the scouts. Figures.
Anyway, moving on!
I've decided that I should have a crush on someone this year. It's not very controllable, but I'm determined to have one on whoever catches my fancy. This year has been exceedingly dull and not as much a romantic whirlwind as it was last year. Probably thanks to the absence of the latest songs on the PA system, the new headmistress and my not-so-closeness with th fifth-formers. Plus, the freedom-fun has moved aside to make way for study-fun. But mostly because I don't have a crush on anyone!
Please ignore the above paragraph. I know I'm foolish, since I can't help who I crush on, or if I crush on anyone at all.
Continuing my glib babbling...
Instead of heading inland, I went for the Bike Fest at the Eagle Ranch today. It was so cool and we got lost in all the Tamans of 4th mile trying to find a shortcut thru traffic. B-E-A-Utiful bikes. Sorry I couldn't go to your house, Jia Yi - Happy Birthday!
I love the world. I think I've come up with a new idea - to think of what made me smile each day. As plagarised from Jen of YWS fame. Anywhoodledoodle, I'd better sign off now.
On moving.
I don't want to move.
At least, not till I'm out of school. I want to experience walking to STPD - staying there as long as I like, then going back when I want to - for all my schooling years. Maybe I never fully appreciated how good it is to live next to the school. Life is good here.
I don't want to leave my home. My house, white walls and black roof. My home. The ultimate cold, silent queen of houses, sophisticated and proud of all its ghosts and childish murals, courtesy of my siblings and I. A royal mansion of messy homey-ness, cool yet warm with sunlight and dreams. My room still bears the large Scout logo, quill and pawn I pencilled onto its white-washed exterior.
I love where I am. I know I'll have to move someday, but can't it be another day?
But I won't worry. Life goes on. I think I'm not changing schools. There's a positive spin to that.
At least, not till I'm out of school. I want to experience walking to STPD - staying there as long as I like, then going back when I want to - for all my schooling years. Maybe I never fully appreciated how good it is to live next to the school. Life is good here.
I don't want to leave my home. My house, white walls and black roof. My home. The ultimate cold, silent queen of houses, sophisticated and proud of all its ghosts and childish murals, courtesy of my siblings and I. A royal mansion of messy homey-ness, cool yet warm with sunlight and dreams. My room still bears the large Scout logo, quill and pawn I pencilled onto its white-washed exterior.
I love where I am. I know I'll have to move someday, but can't it be another day?
But I won't worry. Life goes on. I think I'm not changing schools. There's a positive spin to that.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
On High
Precisely. I got high today. Doing Accounting.
I can hear you saying WTF.
During KH today, we learnt Simpan Kira, a.k.a. accounting, which was, indeed, great fun. Just ask Lim. I spent half the time giggling with delight. Perhaps this is, indeed, one of those strange defining moments in time, or maybe I'm just insane. All I know is that I fell in love with accounts this afternoon.
However, time flies when you scribble accounts, and so we packed up before we could finish. The moment the teacher let us out, I traipsed to the canteen to finish it up. It was that addictive. Tan Poh Kuan said he could see that it made me very happy. I wonder if it will ever repeat this feat in the future.
In other news! I'm putting one of my more ditsy, Twilight-esque essays on my blog. I wrote it around last year. Go ahead and purge.
I sat at the bench, staring at the size 12 font unseeingly. My manuscript was paper-clipped to page 37 of The Odyssey, where I decided to place it to save it from being crumpled in the savage machine that was my bag. The Odyssey was one of the many books that I could never stomach, and sacrificed it I did. It survived the day, however. Biting my lip, I decided to actually make an effort to read. My head was jam-packed with oddly excited voices, so I had to murmur under my breath.
I sat on the stone bench, staring at the size 12 font unseeingly. My manuscript was paper-clipped to page 37 of The Odyssey, where I decided to place it to save it from being crumpled in the savage animal that was my bag. The Odyssey was one of the many books that I could never stomach, and I had no qualms about sacrificing it. It survived the day, however. Biting my lip, I decided to actually make an effort to read my story. My head was jam-packed with oddly excited voices, blurring out the noises of the outside world and the voice inside my mind that usually read in silence, so I had to murmur under my breath. The words I muttered were unheard by any other person at the crowded bus-stop.
“’He tweaked his bowtie, carefully checking his tuxedo in the long mirror. Even as he – ’ fine, I give up!” Frustration filled me like it always did at my poor persistance. Not a word had registered in my brain. I could never pull this off. Just stare at the words, I thought to myself. Stare at the words. I would never have thought of doing this, but my unwittingly stupid mind devised this plan, and dragged me along for the ride. So here I was. Waiting, prop in hand. Just waiting.
“The Odyssey, huh?”
I looked up, and finally, there he was. Instantly, I felt like an idiot.
“I’m not actually reading it. Double-checking my story, to be honest.” Drat his piercing eyes. He knew perfectly well that I was hyperaware of him, jolting at every step closer he took, that I had been waiting for this, planning to the last second. He knew too well that I wasn’t reading at all, that the moving of my eyes was a complete façade. And he could hear my breath quickening, see my ears pricking to catch every word he said. My pupils must have dilated an inch to see all of him. I sounded ridiculous. I looked homely. My pose was awkward. Self-consciousness chained me down to the rack and twisted.
My friends were definitely blind. He was the most amazing person I had ever laid eyes on. I could testify to that. And now he looked at my book – avoiding my gawk, maybe? I looked down also. The manuscript was tugged gently out of the paper clip and my hands, but I couldn’t have refused him anyway. I closed the book, before turning to him to see his reaction. He read with amazing speed, I noticed; his eyes darted back and forth at the speed of sound. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it wasn’t all that far off from the truth. Within those five minutes, he handed it back to me.
“That’s great, Lils. What’re you planning to do with it?”
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as my spirits soared and plunged with a swiftness to rival that of a jet plane. Of course he would say that, I laughed at myself. What else would he say? He had to be polite. “Nothing. It was just for fun.”
He looked genuinely disappointed. “That’s a waste of a good story. Oh well. Gotta go now. Bye!”
I waved, smiling at him, a featherbrained giggle threatening to escape the upturned corners of my lips. Turning around, I walked away, my ears ringing with his bass-toned voice, my eyes tinted by the bliss of his smile. Today seemed like a perfect day, and I looked forward to tomorrow. Maybe I would save this story, I mused. Put it somewhere secure, make sure the silverfish don't get to it. I whistled as I skipped back home.
I didn't know the surprise that awaited me tomorrow. The bittersweet surprise.
I can hear you saying WTF.
During KH today, we learnt Simpan Kira, a.k.a. accounting, which was, indeed, great fun. Just ask Lim. I spent half the time giggling with delight. Perhaps this is, indeed, one of those strange defining moments in time, or maybe I'm just insane. All I know is that I fell in love with accounts this afternoon.
However, time flies when you scribble accounts, and so we packed up before we could finish. The moment the teacher let us out, I traipsed to the canteen to finish it up. It was that addictive. Tan Poh Kuan said he could see that it made me very happy. I wonder if it will ever repeat this feat in the future.
In other news! I'm putting one of my more ditsy, Twilight-esque essays on my blog. I wrote it around last year. Go ahead and purge.
I sat at the bench, staring at the size 12 font unseeingly. My manuscript was paper-clipped to page 37 of The Odyssey, where I decided to place it to save it from being crumpled in the savage machine that was my bag. The Odyssey was one of the many books that I could never stomach, and sacrificed it I did. It survived the day, however. Biting my lip, I decided to actually make an effort to read. My head was jam-packed with oddly excited voices, so I had to murmur under my breath.
I sat on the stone bench, staring at the size 12 font unseeingly. My manuscript was paper-clipped to page 37 of The Odyssey, where I decided to place it to save it from being crumpled in the savage animal that was my bag. The Odyssey was one of the many books that I could never stomach, and I had no qualms about sacrificing it. It survived the day, however. Biting my lip, I decided to actually make an effort to read my story. My head was jam-packed with oddly excited voices, blurring out the noises of the outside world and the voice inside my mind that usually read in silence, so I had to murmur under my breath. The words I muttered were unheard by any other person at the crowded bus-stop.
“’He tweaked his bowtie, carefully checking his tuxedo in the long mirror. Even as he – ’ fine, I give up!” Frustration filled me like it always did at my poor persistance. Not a word had registered in my brain. I could never pull this off. Just stare at the words, I thought to myself. Stare at the words. I would never have thought of doing this, but my unwittingly stupid mind devised this plan, and dragged me along for the ride. So here I was. Waiting, prop in hand. Just waiting.
“The Odyssey, huh?”
I looked up, and finally, there he was. Instantly, I felt like an idiot.
“I’m not actually reading it. Double-checking my story, to be honest.” Drat his piercing eyes. He knew perfectly well that I was hyperaware of him, jolting at every step closer he took, that I had been waiting for this, planning to the last second. He knew too well that I wasn’t reading at all, that the moving of my eyes was a complete façade. And he could hear my breath quickening, see my ears pricking to catch every word he said. My pupils must have dilated an inch to see all of him. I sounded ridiculous. I looked homely. My pose was awkward. Self-consciousness chained me down to the rack and twisted.
My friends were definitely blind. He was the most amazing person I had ever laid eyes on. I could testify to that. And now he looked at my book – avoiding my gawk, maybe? I looked down also. The manuscript was tugged gently out of the paper clip and my hands, but I couldn’t have refused him anyway. I closed the book, before turning to him to see his reaction. He read with amazing speed, I noticed; his eyes darted back and forth at the speed of sound. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it wasn’t all that far off from the truth. Within those five minutes, he handed it back to me.
“That’s great, Lils. What’re you planning to do with it?”
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as my spirits soared and plunged with a swiftness to rival that of a jet plane. Of course he would say that, I laughed at myself. What else would he say? He had to be polite. “Nothing. It was just for fun.”
He looked genuinely disappointed. “That’s a waste of a good story. Oh well. Gotta go now. Bye!”
I waved, smiling at him, a featherbrained giggle threatening to escape the upturned corners of my lips. Turning around, I walked away, my ears ringing with his bass-toned voice, my eyes tinted by the bliss of his smile. Today seemed like a perfect day, and I looked forward to tomorrow. Maybe I would save this story, I mused. Put it somewhere secure, make sure the silverfish don't get to it. I whistled as I skipped back home.
I didn't know the surprise that awaited me tomorrow. The bittersweet surprise.
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