|
So Apropos
Saw death on a sunny snowFor every life, forego the parable. Seek the light, my knees are cold. (Running home, running home) Go find another lover; To bring and- to string along. With all your lies, you're still very lovable. I toured the light, so many foreign roads For Emma, forever ago. |
|
|
about art.
Art is what you can get away with.
tagboard
affiliates
bridget.carine. divinia. jieyang. gabby. michelle. monica. muk. patricia. sara. wendy. PLAYLIST twitter
credits
Design: doughnutcrazyIcon: morphine_kissed Do credit accordingly if you changed the icon. |
All my afternoons with you
 I bare my windowed self untamed and untrained Dreams that hardly touch our complexions truest faults If room enough for both my drowsy spirit shall fall Bold waves tumble oh to the season of my heart And you have offended my faith and my trust Until all is lost into the beauty of the day Until all is lost, until all is lost But there's something in the way you laugh And it makes me feel like a child Aspects of life they confuse me You and your thesis amuse me Oh, after and afternoon with you And your rich brown eyes Your lips and dark hair Elbows and exposed knees tossing toward the ceiling After afternoon with you Face to palm Tear to tear Mouth to tongue Heart to ground I am in love  Methinks I have a potential sore eye, and its killing me. Either that, or I need more sleep. But the latter doesn't seem as probable. But I'm so whiney these days. So sorry people! I feel so untouched, and I need you so much That I just can't resist you Its not enough to say that I miss you. my life should be documented in a book.
Pulling out old blogposts is an incredible thing. Its not as bitter an act as it used to be, but its magical, in a way, almost ethereal to feel like you're in another body, another soul; reading is like being mirrored into words, a doppelganger of a life lived in a dreamlike state. And it makes me realize that no matter how sad I was then, I was actually quite happy. "I am finally alive, and I know thousands would be echoing my words at this moment. Because these, these are the crucial years. These, these are the years of change, of new hope, of chances. We, as in the entire world (just count them), are in this together. Despite circumstance, we are all facing the same thing, the same emotions, the same struggle, the same people, the same hope, the same yearning. You've heard it before, these are the best years of our lives. You know why? Because these are the worst. These are first lethargic steps you take before you run. How long will it take for you to realise you love to run?" - 18/06/07 It made me wish that I was more grateful of the things I had, the people who had come my way, and especially grateful for myself. What potential I had, what spirit and worth I actually possessed that I was never able to see. It made me wish that I had stood up for what I wanted more, to tell people that I could be and will be so much happier without the shit people gave me, instead of subjecting myself to what I believed was better than what I deserved. Yet, I wished I dreamt the way I did before, believed in the world so much more, and struggled with so much more vigour because I knew there was so much more. Now I'm not sure. Its a state of being tossed, yet resigned in the calms, knowing yet not caring. I care less nowadays. I'm losing the motivation for effort. darn this little white thing
What obligations I have: Choir School (Alevels) What I do in my spare time From Monday to Saturday: Exercise Drink Fruit Juice Sleep. (and when I can muster up the energy) STUDY more. My Biggest Challenge: Struggling with my own desire to be utterly creative, spontaneous and play alot. At least I've kind of figured out a solution for that, creating better, less elusive goals. Collecting words like Occident and Pedantic. Still, you can't help but feel a little miserable. What we could be doing
Little projects I would love to embark on if I had no choir or Alevels or work, and TONS of money (ok, not necessarily tons!)- GIANT canvas painting with REAL PAINT for once. Take that, oil pastels! - Making a Cereal Backpack. It CAN be done. - That chain+chain+chain necklace concept. Hm. - Making bracelets out of EVERYTHING. - Paint and compile my own Mix Disc. - Scrapbook! - Actual songwriting? GASP. - THAT project I started at THAT time but ran out of inspiration. - Spend ONE DAY doing all those things I told myself I'll never do (eg. Shout the word PENIS really loudly in the middle of Taka, go dildo shopping) - Learn to rollerblade/iceskate/wakeboard/skateboard. - Bake a cake myself. - Go square dancing! HAHAHAHA. - Go for a makeup application course. - Go clubbing (yes, Gabby. This one's for you.) - Learn to Drive, of course. etc! We need a little excitement and spontaneity in our lives. As long as it doesn't land us in Prison (: weirdass dream
I had one of those dreams that seemed so real but at the same time couldn't be possible because reality's timeframe just can't fit so many details. Now I'm confused. What's real and what's not?
Ninja Fart!
Anyone remember this blogpot? Well if you do, feast your eyes on this!  Yes! A gift from Mr. Spong Adorable. Squee(: And it has a spinning mechanism. Oh, and for those who still don't get it, Click here.  Whee! I love Mr. Adorable! the inescapable truth.
The weather is scaring me. Its getting terribly hot, and all day I've had headaches and dizzy spells. I don't know how I'm going to get past any more of this weather without getting a heat stroke. In addition, it makes me so much more aware of the fragility of that line between a stable planet and one that is spinning out of control. We are so subjected to the environment, that it is terrifying to think - if it continues at this rate, or even worse, who knows what is going to happen to us?Its a world going insane, and we're all stuck on it. On a lighter note, Lit Evening is going to rock! I'm so excited. I can feel the rushing adrenaline of creativity, innovation and accomplishment. I'm so proud of us (: Please, please pray I'll survive this heat. keep bleeding love
waahahahahaha wah a little complaining
Ugh. Felt like shit during choir, and I still felt like shit now.Damn all these commitments. I'll be a little whiney, and say I wish I could recuperate. Before before this thing gets worse and hits my 4th of May. I fall sick on that day, and I swear I will personally wage war against the fates. Ugh. Throwing up. But can't. Yet. Urgh. photopostpost
1. What Post Choir does to you:   (Well said, Bridge.)2. What Boring SD periods do to you.      3. What happens when I get home:  (What ya lookin' at? Hmm?!)a song of sighs
Honestly, I'm rather sick and tired of this attitude that people are giving. Its our last leg, and we're acting with this ultimate pessimism that's getting on our nerves. What good does it do, if we stress ourselves out by telling ourselves how horrible we are? What do we get from putting ourselves down - does that make us any better? WE LOSE CONFIDENCE, INTEREST, we have a defeated attitude even before we've begun to fight. People stop giving their best and trying - I mean what's the point when everytime we try, we get put down, right? WRONG. We're better than we think we are. We have our strengths - expand on it, use it. We have our weaknesses - FIX IT. Get off our bloody asses. There's no point in wandering in the dark, trying and practicing and trying when we do it mechanically, aimlessly. FOCUS FOR GOD'S SAKE. Even with the little practice we get, we've never fully expanded the potential of what we can learn, and with the extra we've been getting, how much more can we accomplish, honestly? This is a team effort. We should be filled with expectation, hope, excitement. We should be striving to do our ultimate best, because we KNOW our potential, and its an exhilarating experience AND AN ACCOMPLISHMENT to reach that potential on our own sweat and blood. We've focused too much on this GOLD or GOLD WITH HONOURS, that we've forgotten the reason why we love to do what we do best. Drown yourselves in the artistry of the music. Don't you feel the music? Don't you know how ingenious, how beautiful these songs are? Doesn't anyone even LOVE them? Aren't you proud of what we are? We are A CHOIR, we are the masters of the music that we make, the beauty that we create through our voices! The combined chemistry of the volume, the pitch, the tone, all to create a masterpiece. And the best thing? When we sing it, WE BECOME PART OF THE MASTERPIECE, of the music. We are artists, but we are also art! But instead, we stand around like robots, singing meaningless tunes, stressed and afraid. This is a waste. All this effort, emotion, and time. Its all a waste. And its such a pity. I don't know. Its giving me this horrible migraine now, I can't think about it without feeling this utter sense of loss, that we're no longer singers, just children doing our homework. When in reality, we are so much more. It makes me so tired. and I don't feel a thing
I'm like the marginalised people of Aceh against the Batak of North Sumatra, and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM), fighting for the Independent State of Aceh from Indonesia. I can't wait to get out of here. Now, its just me, and my work. In peace. and everytime you feel the pain, refrain
"Happiness is a warm gun..."Across the Universe all across my mind. "falling, yes I am falling..." Sara says we should live for today. Today, today. Now. I remember when someone first told me that. There's that exhilaration, a rush to the head, a brilliance in moving, speaking, running - its like you never knew Now existed, that it was just born within you, a crystallizing light within an empty shell that finally has something to be for. To be. To live. To exist within this space of time, isolated yet thriving, yet moving, throbbing with the fullness of life. And honestly, that is the best advice someone can give. Because we often forget. How in this society, we look to the future. We study hard now for work later. We work hard later for retirement, and when retirement, we live hard for death. And in all, what have you achieved? People need to know What They Want. That passion, which never ceases to grow and illuminate our lives. Its what keeps us going, yet no one knows its there, nor pay attention to its cries. We know we have so much to live for, and we know when we're not living a life of fulfillment. We constantly feel unsatisfied - to what end? Walking around a solution searching for another. What we want is not an object, not a job nor a single person. Its a vision, an answer of the prayer we've been whispering in our sleep since the day we began to know ourselves. Its the simplest, basest goal of our entire life. To have a family, to learn, to give, to know God, to make people happy, to reach our fullest potential. What is it YOU want?
a seemingly ungodly hour
 Its a little past midnight, I need to run my 2.4 early tomorrow, and despite my constant wish to GET MORE SLEEP, I'm getting an adrenaline rush. Seriously. I mean, me? Get an adrenaline rush at midnight? Very rare. But get this. I got it FROM STUDYING. Finally I'm getting into the momentum, and honestly, I don't feel like stopping now. This is detrimental for my health. How am I suppose to live with this enthusiasm to study? Urgh! Btw, I think Bryce Howard is adorable! Finally watched a Calvary Match! Whoot! See my baby FLY. fungus
A little mushroom dance to start your day! Nothing like fantasia for all your artistic desires (: go freaking dance already
Another 12 hour night. So much more refreshed!Nothing much like listening to Rufus Wainwright super early in the morning. Makes you feel like you're still dreaming, somewhat. Though surprisingly, I've a recent affinity with Amy Winehouse. I had a dream that she died though (finally) from whatever she's been taking. I think its because of SOMEONE singing that rehab song non-stop. Though I battled blind, Love is a fate resigned. And nothing beats WAKEUPANDFREAKINGDANCE songs. Though my neighbours will probably think I'm mad. John Mayer's one. And a little lapse of emotional outcry, just so I can push it into your face: I'm done caring about you. You've been the thorn in my side for so long, and now through the tears and emotional whatsits - knowing that I meant nothing? Go moan about the girl you can't get, throw away all consideration of EVERYONE as you always do, you spoilt brat. I know what kind of person you are now, I see the big picture now. I'll rejoice that I'm free of you, and I'm so much HAPPIER than you. And in my perspective, I've got so much more to gain, and you've so much more to lose. You're stuck in the ditch, and my life's just getting started. Friday Night and the lights are low...
Everyday you write it downJust so I can read it The best thing that ever happened to you You know I wanna be it I can't recall if I ever had a love I truly missed And if I did, it wasn't no love compared to this Just so you know You got me Nothing in the whole wide world could ever stop me If you got love, got love to give Oh just keep giving it up and someone will let you in And just, so you know You got me Its finally Friday, and where am I spending it? At home. Tomorrow's Saturday, and where am I spending it? In school. Ah well. C'est La Vie. Well, at least I've got you, and you've got me. The Saga of the Flies
Once there was a young girl who had a horrendous fear of flies (ask her friends, who've seen her shirk at the sight of butterflies). She is terrified of them, their little crawly legs, their ability to fall from God knows where, and to buzz (oh the horrible buzzing!) anywhere they please. She detested these little flies. Her family, however, often kept her house well lit, because, obviously, they need to see where they're going.Ok, I'm tired of writing in third person. Lets switch to first. Basically, I was happily writing notes in my room (yes, studying for once, liang), and suddenly a fly starts buzzing around my table lamp. First I try and ignore it, until it starts flying around my macbook. So, I start swatting it with my history readings (which are very thick). The fly dies. I am content. I return to my notes. SUDDENLY, a !@£$ fly flies into MY EAR. I freak out, the thing won't stop buzzing. I start hitting it away as fast as fast as possible, I jump out of my seat, take off my hairband, ruffle my hair to get the STUPID FLY OUT OF MY HAIR and it lands on the floor. I grab the biggest thing I could get on my table, my history readings, and throws it on the stupid buzzing thing, and it dies. I relax. (Thank God for absurdly thick history notes). I look up. THERE ARE TONS OF FLIES ALL AROUND MY CEILING LIGHTS. I freak out completely, run out of my room, turn off the lights and close the door. And I find myself in pitch darkness. All the lights in the house are off (which is rare in my house). I can't see a frickin thing. I started calling out for my brother, and he comes out of the outside toilet. He tells me that there were flies EVERYWHERE, and they had attacked all the lights. So he turned them all off. I look into the kitchen, and I see THE BIGGEST SWARM OF STUPID FLIES AROUND THE LIGHTS. I'm now in the darkness, in the living room. With my mac. No flies so far. Shit, I can still feel the buzzing in my ear. Sigh. And honestly, no one can blame me for not trying to study. a tidy wee rant
Knowing some people don't have an affinity to tagging, I have to admit I still love it when my friends tag my tagboard. Kind of lets me know that they're interested in reading what I have to say and gives me a little fuzzy feeling. I express myself best when writing, so knowing my friends read it gives me such joy.But the fact remains that some people just don't feel comfortable doing it. Ah well, it is as it is. Thank you for tagging Aaron! Haha. Sorry I keep teasing you for it. I've this renewed joy for writing. Its a sense of expression that is unrivalled, yet how often we forget it. I have yet to acquire the wonderful gift of writing convincingly. I am fair at writing artistically, now and then I can twist the words a little to make poetic little introductions and conclusions, but it doesn't come naturally. I admire those who write naturally with such an eviable flair! I would try my hand, now and then. I wish I could write poetry as naturally as I did in Sec 4. It is probably the only time where I was please with whatever I came up with. I feel so fresh after such a long afternoon nap! My brother was tonnes worried though, came in and started feeling my neck for a fever. But after I took that nap and that shower, I felt great! Haven't felt so good after a day in school for a long time - I should think I could read a thousand history readings. But that is bullshit, of course. Even Mr. R couldn't do that, I'm sure! intellect, what intellect?
1. It is an incorrigible habit to repeatedly say that people are incorrigible. To be incorrigible is to be stagnant, to be in a hopeless situation. Thus, for an incorrigible person to say that one is incorrigible would be hypocritical, because the person stagnated in the literary state of using flamboyant words such as incorrigible are, doubtlessly, incorrigible.2. There is some fun in manipulating words. When you feel horrible, take target, and use those words to tear it down to the point that you feel good. Be a bitch. Be a horrible, sarcastic, stuck-up bitch. You, for example, are so pale you might as well be yellow snow. That's right, Mr. Mac, yellow snow. Ignoring the fact that any contact with snow would fry your inside. Damn, that's no fun for me. 3. Hee Hee. Yellow Snow. Blue Balls. Liang, you are incorrigible. I'm lost in the candlelight
Oops. Someone's link disappeared during the transaction. Sorry honey, its back on.Anyway, good music for the terrible week I have ahead - here's to catching up with all my work and hopefully facing all my demons and insecurities (school-wise). I think I have MUCH reason to be utterly terrified. To add on to that, my body still seems to hate me because though I've been eating, I've lost something called an appetite, so everything's been a little blander, even the nicer foods I've eaten have been followed by alot of nausea. I'm getting my strength back, and I am permanently traumitized by the effect of cough syrup and sleeping pills, which lost me a week's consciousness. Yet, I still can't sleep. Sucks. Sucks. If it weren't for my friends, I'd think my life pretty much sucked. Ok, I'm done complaining. Whew. A bit of music to lighten the mood and hopefully make this week a little better. Kyle Riabko, aside from the weird name, is AWESOME (but no one said Mraz was a common name either). I can overlook the crush on Amanda Bynes and just enjoy the nice nice music (: Another amanda song! (Hey Amanda, where'd you find these crazy boys this time?) Maybe time to empty my stomach and maybe stuff some knowledge into my brain before lights out tonight ): This is annoying. bunny turds are cute.
A little on the awkward side, but this skin might do. My heart still stays with the other one though, but I was itching for some change. If all else fails, I still have the code for the other *heeheehee*Talking about awkward, today... Nonetheless good food is HEAVEN (: Makes me feel better about this whole sucky week and this sucky tummy. Yesterday was FUNFILLED with guitar hero and pain-filled wrists. Spencer remains Guitar Hero King. Happy Good Friday Y'all. And happy easter, with a chocolate egg on top (because I like 'em). enough is ENOUGH.
Ok. I'm only going to say this one last time, then I'm going to shut up and find some way to get my ass out of bed.I HATE BEING SICK. Frick, as if one week isn't bad enough): CLICK HERE JOEL CLICK HERE CLICK HERE CLICK HERE CLICKYCLICKYCLICK HERE. I swear if you can take 10 minutes of this nonsense, you are *queues dark voice* god-like. I should be studying but.... I just thought of something. This is the first purchasable birthday wish in a loooong time. For my birthday I want yellow balloons. BIGBIG Yellow Balloons. The kind that is so big and embarrassing but screams HAPPY. The kind that when you look at it, you can't help but feel goddamn overjoyed. Yeah. Those Yellow Balloons. Actually, now that I think of it, Red's kinda nice too. Maybe Red balloons. I don't know now. I think, for now, I just want to be alone. The good thing is, my fever's gone. Heh. HMT
Handmaid's tale is such a beautiful, haunting, and complex tale that it seems almost unfit to be wriggled into the syllabus of an Alevel Literature paper, where everything's reduced to the mundanity and euphemism of "how to get an A for your literature paper and secure a future as a lawyer". Its sad. Texts like this should be appreciated as a whole artwork, a complete masterpiece. Even in films, that are wellknown for killing classic texts (though arguably they are occasionally able to grasp the beauty and the beauty alone) water the text down to something completely meaningless. The summaries I read have been disappointing, and it makes me wonder on how accurate the film may be. To not take the complex characterization and significance of even the smaller characters, Serena Joy, Nick, Luke. The TIME BEFORE was never a paradise, but an ordinary illicit lifestyles full of protests, affairs, haunting memories. Yet, in Gilead, Offred continues to yearn for that imperfect past. We can see she's not fighting for feminism (as some critics have said). The time before is filled of contradictions in the protest of feminism - the way Offred submits to Luke, her acceptance of a diminished female role in society, and her yearning to be touched, to give herself to a man - she does not think like a feminist. What she is fighting for, however, is life. She struggles to live, to survive, to keep sane amidst the confusion of Gilead. Yet this struggle with self is downplayed as well. Though she may not show physical rebellion, outward protest, she is the only one showing the most genuine resistance to the Gilead movement. Moira, for example, resists but is ultimately entrapped into a role assigned by the state. Offred's mother, a pure feminist, still shows signs of female weaknesses. Ofglen, when it is realized that her resistance is lost, takes her own life, as the previous Offred had. Had Offred's rebellion of the mind been most true? She has kept the most of her own identity, her hopes and dreams and loved ones by her side, but yet she fights with the influence of the state, a place where there is NO alternative, where signs of suicide and death are hung in the only place she is allowed to call her own. The strength of what certain teachers call "futile signs of rebellion" is what I call reality. To preserve one's desires and hopes, to dangle like a "dogbone" because it makes you feel empowered. Offred has never professed to be a feminist, she isn't one, and she takes her flaws and her weaknesses and PRESERVES THEM within her identity, even from a world where female inequality still remains (where the male gaze still takes power), because she's fighting to remember who she is, rather than what they name her to be. I especially love that her name isn't revealed. Its like preserving a piece of herself from the public, like a little bit of candy that she owns for herself. She doesn't give herself away. Literally. Fever when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight
After that quiz I did on Facebook, I specially went to the Hot Topic website to take a look, and SHIT I never knew they had such cute Tshirts. I think I have a little obsession with bandshirts now, but I think they're awesome. Or maybe that's the drowsy meds talking. Fever of 38degress ++. I don't think I'll be going to school anytime soon. Yet I'm so goddamn hyperactive. Must be the first month party Benita had today. I was damn anti-social though, I think the excessive sneezing took its toll on me. I couldn't even focus when talking to my uncle and auntie. Uncle: Your hair looks a little weird eh? (you don't know how similar he is to my dad) Aunt: No lah, she's probably usually keeps it tied up most of the time, so it doesn't want to listen to you now right? (hair was weird because I was sick) Me: Eh yeah... Aunt: So how's school? Homework? Alot right? Me: (didn't really hear) Huh? Hair? Which at that point my WHOLE group of cousins started laughing at me. A little tired and grumpy, I snuck off as soon as I could and took a LONG nap. Sigh. I don't like family gatherings. Oh, and I really want that Pull and Bear shirt that says "I'm Hungry". I think its awesome. Yeah awesome. gwumpiness is a gweat cwime.
 MY NEW HAVAIANAS. Thank you Gabby thank you thank you! On a bad note, I have officially fallen sick. Again. But this time, I actually lost my voice! ): And if you've known me long enough, I can't stand it when I lose my voice. I can't talk, I can't sing, (I'm finding it hard to do anything). Oh shit, now I have "I can't smile without you" stuck in my head, and I can't even sing it. ):): And PTM today! ):):): And hardly any you.  Haha ok. I'm not THAT sad. But I am terribly grumpy. Like a hungry big bad wolf. Except I'm not hungry. But I am bad :P a little jiggidy rant
 Its one of those tired tired weeks that I can't wait to end. Falling asleep so goddamn early annoys me, but sometimes it must be done to (ah, ah ah ah) stay alive. Lol. Nonsense. Today is running errand day. Followed by an "ughh" busy weekend. Then school. There's too much mundanity in life, too little passion, or chances to pursue passion. But as wise men said, "Achievers make their own passion." Which probably means I should put education above all else in life, right? I LOVE BOOKS I LOVE EDUCATION I LOVE NOTES. Yet, I think I'm still learning in life, I'm still growing as a person, a teenager striving to maturity. I understand the importance of work (not to quote the bible ahem ahem) but I'm shaping my identity at the same time. There's not a day where I don't learn something new. And its fun. Tiring, but fun. Maybe its time to put that aside a little more (though you can't put it aside completely) and focus on my studies. Who knows? I may learn something new there. (Would you call that satirical?) kawaii yes!
  Shit! I want a Ninja Fart Necklace! Some one buy this for me.... Oh and this! 
don't want you back no more
Promotionals.Monotony slews the junctures of a bearing to survive. To look about, and see crisp sheets that want smudging, and papercuts, like crimson lettering of a defeat. They haunt. A faraway notion, or dream (nightmare) that tugs the heart that needs some release. She is a demon, a red letter that invokes desire, competition, an attitude problem that I encompass. Afraid to lose her, yet loathing her with some soul; whichever still survives. We wait for the end eagerly. Haha some poem I wrote about Promos last year. Just dug it up. Still applies, eh. Something about listening to BSB locked in my room calms me. Its like those people don't exist, or aren't around, and I'm back to the way life used to be. Me trusting me. Complete honesty, no noise, no need to prove myself. History, GP, Economics. Lets tango. |