The blackness of the air is laced with despair and searing pain. Mosaics of fragmented photographs float in the chill seas of unfeelingness. We soared on wings of words, and settled our heavy weights upon their swift flight. Nostalgia is drenched with frolicking to golden summers and dancing dandelions singing to the sunrise's glory.
Happiness scented the air then.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I should be damned for the flowing contradiction I place myself with ever so often. I enjoy books relating tremendously to death and dying, but usually wind up with a clenching dissatisfaction with the way characters in the story perish with such undeserved subtle regains. And yet, on the other hand, a contentment derives from the subtle thoroughly-thought-out plot. All in all, I am engaged, fascinated and mesmerised by the language the author manipulated (with her jogging train of metaphors) for her descriptive portions in the tragic plot.
Amidst the word-swoon frenzy, I am elated to announce that I will be able to splurge on vanity's upkeep because I am getting my first piano tuition pay this Saturday(!!!). Contemplations on how to fix my head a new hairdo has been decided on. First I am going to make sure my pockets are a little fuller, just for financial security's sake.
Recommended read for serious-novel lovers:
The Flight Of The Swans (D. Devika Bai)
Amidst the word-swoon frenzy, I am elated to announce that I will be able to splurge on vanity's upkeep because I am getting my first piano tuition pay this Saturday(!!!). Contemplations on how to fix my head a new hairdo has been decided on. First I am going to make sure my pockets are a little fuller, just for financial security's sake.
Recommended read for serious-novel lovers:
The Flight Of The Swans (D. Devika Bai)
Saturday, September 24, 2005
The profusing linger of pain impregnates her entire self as she divulges her tarnished axiom. Her lips quiver as she confesses the ultimatum of her disability to face the harsh music that now blasts her eardrums. She does not leak a murmur, let alone an utter of complain, but the one that discarded her will never be able to stand in her tattered shoes. She doggedly resists the pain that arrows her, only to continue receiving more. Those hazel fatigue-embedded eyes spill with rivers of plea and an urgent sense of need. Swallowing her sanity, this feeble woman goes on her knees and begs for a salvation to a more ambiguous ending.
Me, on the other side of the receiver, down-heartedly opens my heart and listens to another victim of Love - a commitment that was supposed to take its players to vaults of heavens. The weeping and gloom paints the atmosphere with a blanket of grey. I am wishing that I could be the Aunt Agony who will embrace all cherished one's woes and add a sparkle of sunshine to their living each and every day.
Endeared ones, be happy. Xue, be happy. Be.
Me, on the other side of the receiver, down-heartedly opens my heart and listens to another victim of Love - a commitment that was supposed to take its players to vaults of heavens. The weeping and gloom paints the atmosphere with a blanket of grey. I am wishing that I could be the Aunt Agony who will embrace all cherished one's woes and add a sparkle of sunshine to their living each and every day.
Endeared ones, be happy. Xue, be happy. Be.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Results for Semester 3
Internet Media Authoring 1 - B+
Interface Design - B+
IMD Paper 2 - D+
Web Animation 1 - D+
Sociology - B
Salty crystals, aching cheeks
Chasing rounds and rounds, sprinting aching feet
A knife thrusts into piercing infliction
Standards, levelled nearer to perfection
An overwhelming scream embalms the hollow hallways
Meets the forlorn and hallucinated daze
Strumming strings of guitars, pacing semitones
Loneliness, a man's best foe
How long, this wait they speak of
Utopia, isn't it aloft?
Father, forgive my irregular beliefs
For faith is at its least
The course of true love never did run smooth
Infects a heart, with dagger words so uncouth
Lord, take me in
You are my only kin
Lord, you are my only kin
Internet Media Authoring 1 - B+
Interface Design - B+
IMD Paper 2 - D+
Web Animation 1 - D+
Sociology - B
Salty crystals, aching cheeks
Chasing rounds and rounds, sprinting aching feet
A knife thrusts into piercing infliction
Standards, levelled nearer to perfection
An overwhelming scream embalms the hollow hallways
Meets the forlorn and hallucinated daze
Strumming strings of guitars, pacing semitones
Loneliness, a man's best foe
How long, this wait they speak of
Utopia, isn't it aloft?
Father, forgive my irregular beliefs
For faith is at its least
The course of true love never did run smooth
Infects a heart, with dagger words so uncouth
Lord, take me in
You are my only kin
Lord, you are my only kin
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Luxuriating in the humid and temperamental windy phases, the idle moments flicker the ticked seconds by. Pages in the book of history flip, all in retrospect. A customer enquires one of the goods, and the bubble of sepia imagination bursts.
Go ahead and rage into fits of guffaws.
Mental Note: Slog, like a fertile bull and flaunt the moolahs at the finish of twenty days.
Go ahead and rage into fits of guffaws.
Mental Note: Slog, like a fertile bull and flaunt the moolahs at the finish of twenty days.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
New aquaintance, friendly faces, refilling impressions.
Bangs and Beng and Xue, all have engaged bosses for themselves; am overjoyed for the four of us.
Lightning repeatedly flashes across the mighty onyx skies, and I miss you. Now that I have diverted my hunger pangs to fatigue spells, I shall blog about today. So six people are in charge of the warehouse sale, three belonging to each gender. The goods were selling at dirt-low prices.
First day of work was ordinary, and extremely energy-consuming. After the measly lunchtime of half an hour, a stampede of Chinese (yes, the Chinese from China who twirl their tongues to any ying1 of any Chinese word). These women eyed and attacked the Bodynits Assortment wagon, which was pumped with swimwear, lingerie, undergarments and sports bra. They were a sweaty bunch that produced queer whiffs of a variety of stench, and most unfortunately, I happened to take a glance at their unshaved underarms. The hair growing from each and every of their armpits, were lengths derived from not shaving for a year or so. Unsightly as it was, it captured people's attention and aroused disgust. A horde of deodourant-deprived seamstresses working were vying for various goods. Amazingly, the Singaporean customers were gracious in their picking as compared to the Chinese desperadoes. I can finally conclude that they are uncouth, ungracious, loud and uncivilised whereas we Singaporeans possess elegance and class.
Proceeding after that, I chanced upon (very unfortunately I repeat) this furong-jiejie lookalike - on her neck were love bites in neat and orderly colums of 9 and rows of 3. Freak of lust's nature!
I've been hearing passed-around rumours spreading like wildfire about the things you blow your horn to your friends about. Maybe I was wrong, maybe you are indeed from the same flock as your backbiting sneaky girlfriend. If you think this paragraph of directing is special dedicated to you, it is.
Bangs and Beng and Xue, all have engaged bosses for themselves; am overjoyed for the four of us.
Lightning repeatedly flashes across the mighty onyx skies, and I miss you. Now that I have diverted my hunger pangs to fatigue spells, I shall blog about today. So six people are in charge of the warehouse sale, three belonging to each gender. The goods were selling at dirt-low prices.
First day of work was ordinary, and extremely energy-consuming. After the measly lunchtime of half an hour, a stampede of Chinese (yes, the Chinese from China who twirl their tongues to any ying1 of any Chinese word). These women eyed and attacked the Bodynits Assortment wagon, which was pumped with swimwear, lingerie, undergarments and sports bra. They were a sweaty bunch that produced queer whiffs of a variety of stench, and most unfortunately, I happened to take a glance at their unshaved underarms. The hair growing from each and every of their armpits, were lengths derived from not shaving for a year or so. Unsightly as it was, it captured people's attention and aroused disgust. A horde of deodourant-deprived seamstresses working were vying for various goods. Amazingly, the Singaporean customers were gracious in their picking as compared to the Chinese desperadoes. I can finally conclude that they are uncouth, ungracious, loud and uncivilised whereas we Singaporeans possess elegance and class.
Proceeding after that, I chanced upon (very unfortunately I repeat) this furong-jiejie lookalike - on her neck were love bites in neat and orderly colums of 9 and rows of 3. Freak of lust's nature!
I've been hearing passed-around rumours spreading like wildfire about the things you blow your horn to your friends about. Maybe I was wrong, maybe you are indeed from the same flock as your backbiting sneaky girlfriend. If you think this paragraph of directing is special dedicated to you, it is.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
So hooray, work will initiate from Tuesday. Those who kept note of the venue and working hours during the upcoming week of my recruitment, kindly do not drop by.
Poopy surprised me with an awfully alarming fright when she jostled into the teak shelf in the middle of the two rooms. She practically froze due to the acute pains she was silently dealing with, with her tiny limbs coiled up to her delicate feeble structure. Sometimes, I feel truly fortunate to have my mum, poopy and the special ones (you know who you are) to accompany me through anything nameable.
If God will bring you to it, He will bring you through it.
People, tag!
Poopy surprised me with an awfully alarming fright when she jostled into the teak shelf in the middle of the two rooms. She practically froze due to the acute pains she was silently dealing with, with her tiny limbs coiled up to her delicate feeble structure. Sometimes, I feel truly fortunate to have my mum, poopy and the special ones (you know who you are) to accompany me through anything nameable.
If God will bring you to it, He will bring you through it.
People, tag!
Saturday, September 17, 2005
The jeering faces that encircled the table of dinner mocked at eighteen years of battle walls that have been constructed just to disintegrate in a fraction of a minute. A pause of twelve ticking minutes consumed sensibility, followed up by blank dazes and evoked thoughts. On the innermost, an emotional-malfunction ran the system of humanity upside down.
I try, am trying and have been trying for 18 years, but my efforts aren't of any importance to anyone at all, anymore.
I try, am trying and have been trying for 18 years, but my efforts aren't of any importance to anyone at all, anymore.
Friday, September 16, 2005
A happiest H5's first anniversary. Think evil, 16 September.
New pictures up - H5's Pioneer Anniversary
New pictures up - H5's Pioneer Anniversary
Thursday, September 15, 2005
That woman reaps the resentment she's granted.
Mother Lio, I am truly nauseated from the more-than-two-cents'-worth you yak to my delicate fragile ears every single damn day. If I answer Yes, I mean it. If I tell you No and it means its a Yes, it's hinting to you that you shouldn't be digging into something I don't wish your interference in. Quit prying into my blog, you irritating grandmother of poop.
I type a whopping an 80wpm pace while you're still clamped at the 55wpm you were stuck with twenty years back. Alright alright, points of information.
HageFive's pioneer anniversary's in an hour and fifteen. I shared my Wonka bar with the women of the house, poopy got a pinch of it too (I have another bar in the freezer awaiting my majestic chomp).
PS* Mummy, you are certainly welcomed to tag my comment box too. Click the numericals at every end of any entry. Hope to receive some response from your big chunky computer in the study. With love.
Mother Lio, I am truly nauseated from the more-than-two-cents'-worth you yak to my delicate fragile ears every single damn day. If I answer Yes, I mean it. If I tell you No and it means its a Yes, it's hinting to you that you shouldn't be digging into something I don't wish your interference in. Quit prying into my blog, you irritating grandmother of poop.
I type a whopping an 80wpm pace while you're still clamped at the 55wpm you were stuck with twenty years back. Alright alright, points of information.
HageFive's pioneer anniversary's in an hour and fifteen. I shared my Wonka bar with the women of the house, poopy got a pinch of it too (I have another bar in the freezer awaiting my majestic chomp).
PS* Mummy, you are certainly welcomed to tag my comment box too. Click the numericals at every end of any entry. Hope to receive some response from your big chunky computer in the study. With love.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Lackadaisical traits in me outshine the systematic preferances I could have displayed. Melancholic sheets of clouds release to a dull blue, soaking in introspection. A life buoy floats in the middle of a cynic ocean, an alert emphasises amidst the hopelessness. As the music sorrowfully chants "spider web and it's me in the middle, so I twist and turn..", I begin to drift away from reality's entanglement.
Floating in the bask of the magnificent dusty apricot sunset, I feel the capacity of my breathing take a stringendo. The beauty of its denial keeps me ecstatic in paralysed consciousness, summons bold thoughts and dreams to suffice. Staging before me is a remarkable sight, one of a familiar face, an angelic aura surrounding grandeur itself. Eagerly trudge forward, childlike inquisitivity fills me up, and a vision of you bathing in the sun's awe stood before me.
Then, I hear you screaming in the washing fires of purgatory. I try to grab your grey cloak that fell to your ankles. You shrilled for aid and struggled in the flames. An image of an cremating oven appears in front of me, and the crimson chaos engulfs you into the oven that cooked your life out of you, that burned you physically away from me.
Dreams, always persist ugly.
Floating in the bask of the magnificent dusty apricot sunset, I feel the capacity of my breathing take a stringendo. The beauty of its denial keeps me ecstatic in paralysed consciousness, summons bold thoughts and dreams to suffice. Staging before me is a remarkable sight, one of a familiar face, an angelic aura surrounding grandeur itself. Eagerly trudge forward, childlike inquisitivity fills me up, and a vision of you bathing in the sun's awe stood before me.
Then, I hear you screaming in the washing fires of purgatory. I try to grab your grey cloak that fell to your ankles. You shrilled for aid and struggled in the flames. An image of an cremating oven appears in front of me, and the crimson chaos engulfs you into the oven that cooked your life out of you, that burned you physically away from me.
Dreams, always persist ugly.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Karma thrives, in miraculous ways you can never foresee. God has his plans, in his time and in his will.
We allow the hands of time wastefully tick us by, envisaging the biggest picture of fantasy, imagining the fruits that can be tasted when glory sets in. We dream of what we rightfully should sow, even before earnestly reaping the land that requires ploughing. Often, the expectations we implement onto others are standards we ourselves cannot meet up to, yet it is always vital that someone else fulfills the sacrifices before us. We blame the latter for the lack of love and compromise, but we display no unconditional generosity in the loving we give and we scrooge in the giving.
God had Marion back to his abode, perhaps because my efforts toward her were diminutive. Perhaps, there were nights she spent lonely, and I wasn't by her side listening to her woes. And perhaps, the treatment I receive now are my just desserts, and possibly God's manner of retribution and karma.
On rainy days like this, when the world seems to find me an itch in its eyes, the only person that fogs my thoughts is Marion. Such a major role she plays in my life, yet God decided that it was right to have her returned to him.
It is past the incident whereby I lost Marion to death, that cherish is always a priority term that links to those I love. Never before have I sought solace in treasuring what is at hand. The pain conjuring in the depths of the recesses of my heart is one that pars with the emotional infliction I experienced when I lost Marion.
It's the little things we share in this lifetime that will decide on the better things in the next. Cherish.
We allow the hands of time wastefully tick us by, envisaging the biggest picture of fantasy, imagining the fruits that can be tasted when glory sets in. We dream of what we rightfully should sow, even before earnestly reaping the land that requires ploughing. Often, the expectations we implement onto others are standards we ourselves cannot meet up to, yet it is always vital that someone else fulfills the sacrifices before us. We blame the latter for the lack of love and compromise, but we display no unconditional generosity in the loving we give and we scrooge in the giving.
God had Marion back to his abode, perhaps because my efforts toward her were diminutive. Perhaps, there were nights she spent lonely, and I wasn't by her side listening to her woes. And perhaps, the treatment I receive now are my just desserts, and possibly God's manner of retribution and karma.
On rainy days like this, when the world seems to find me an itch in its eyes, the only person that fogs my thoughts is Marion. Such a major role she plays in my life, yet God decided that it was right to have her returned to him.
It is past the incident whereby I lost Marion to death, that cherish is always a priority term that links to those I love. Never before have I sought solace in treasuring what is at hand. The pain conjuring in the depths of the recesses of my heart is one that pars with the emotional infliction I experienced when I lost Marion.
It's the little things we share in this lifetime that will decide on the better things in the next. Cherish.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Petty and scornful pittance that rubbed off twisted stereotype fiction events in blemished articulation, scars relationships which walls have been erected tall and sturdy for years.
As jaded emotions stir within, a realisation of my priceless fortune prompts - I own the cherished love and heartfelt sincerity of many. Indeed, divine content saturates my being tonight as I dwell on the blessings that have been poured along the paths I take.
As jaded emotions stir within, a realisation of my priceless fortune prompts - I own the cherished love and heartfelt sincerity of many. Indeed, divine content saturates my being tonight as I dwell on the blessings that have been poured along the paths I take.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
To the doorstep she raced, grasping her mother's hand tight as she darted. Her youthful supple cheeks were flushed with excitement as she removed her shoes at the gates. Ready and prepared as I was, in my mind, I unlocked the locks that fabricated barriers between the both of us. The avid learner froze, hesistant now, nervous as I was for our first lesson.
She considered mentally, juggling decisions whether to head for the piano or to begin learning from the newly-bought book I had purchased. Alas, a deduction - she took a direction towards the piano. It was, then, a new relationship sprung, from black and white keys, sprouting stemmed notes, and a manuscript sheet.
Angelic was music.
Food paradise at Nique's
My pride and joy
Poopy dearest and her special photoshoot, shot by yours truly.
Too little time spent on loving.
She considered mentally, juggling decisions whether to head for the piano or to begin learning from the newly-bought book I had purchased. Alas, a deduction - she took a direction towards the piano. It was, then, a new relationship sprung, from black and white keys, sprouting stemmed notes, and a manuscript sheet.
Angelic was music.
Food paradise at Nique's
My pride and joy
Poopy dearest and her special photoshoot, shot by yours truly.
Too little time spent on loving.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Film Synopsis
Be With Me the new film by Eric Khoo (Mee Pok Man, 12 Storeys) is a tapestry of stories woven around the themes of love, hope and destiny. The characters lead separate lives but are bound by one common desire - to be with their loved one. The protagonists in the movie are fictitious bar one - Theresa Chan, a courageous deaf and blind woman whose life story inspired Be With Me.
The Festival de Cannes Directors' Fortnight
The cinematic equivalent of a hymn, Be With Me is a film about human beings and their search for love. In his latest film, Eric Khoo manages to
explore the themes of urban loneliness and the sentimental "spleen''
without sinking into a cynical abyss. Neither does he resort to cruel
psychological stereotypes. In fact, the film is a veritable song of hope;
it reclaims the real meaning of the word "humanism".
Like a seductive melody, the musical quality of Be With Me has an immediate hold on our senses. The filmmaker has composed a symphony of complex emotions, with very frugal use of dialogue. The artful orchestration of fiction and reality, invented and real characters imbues Be With Me with a rare quality; it's almost like a cinematographic essay.
Inspired by the memories, biography and everyday life of a remarkable woman Theresa Chan, Eric Khoo has not just made a movie. Be With Me is also a testimony to and meditation on love, hope and destiny.
It's remarkable that a movie with such resonance should come from
Singapore, a country traditionally quiet on the cinematic front. The film's
universality comes from not just from the inspiring character of Theresa
Chan but from its haunting beauty. Be With Me eschews superfluous effects to concentrate on essential concerns - how to film memories, how to film sensations and how to film feelings?
Finally, we love this film because Be With Me confirms that the best
minimalist films can capture immense perspectives, which are those of the heart and soul.
-
Any savvy keen movie goers?
Be With Me the new film by Eric Khoo (Mee Pok Man, 12 Storeys) is a tapestry of stories woven around the themes of love, hope and destiny. The characters lead separate lives but are bound by one common desire - to be with their loved one. The protagonists in the movie are fictitious bar one - Theresa Chan, a courageous deaf and blind woman whose life story inspired Be With Me.
The Festival de Cannes Directors' Fortnight
The cinematic equivalent of a hymn, Be With Me is a film about human beings and their search for love. In his latest film, Eric Khoo manages to
explore the themes of urban loneliness and the sentimental "spleen''
without sinking into a cynical abyss. Neither does he resort to cruel
psychological stereotypes. In fact, the film is a veritable song of hope;
it reclaims the real meaning of the word "humanism".
Like a seductive melody, the musical quality of Be With Me has an immediate hold on our senses. The filmmaker has composed a symphony of complex emotions, with very frugal use of dialogue. The artful orchestration of fiction and reality, invented and real characters imbues Be With Me with a rare quality; it's almost like a cinematographic essay.
Inspired by the memories, biography and everyday life of a remarkable woman Theresa Chan, Eric Khoo has not just made a movie. Be With Me is also a testimony to and meditation on love, hope and destiny.
It's remarkable that a movie with such resonance should come from
Singapore, a country traditionally quiet on the cinematic front. The film's
universality comes from not just from the inspiring character of Theresa
Chan but from its haunting beauty. Be With Me eschews superfluous effects to concentrate on essential concerns - how to film memories, how to film sensations and how to film feelings?
Finally, we love this film because Be With Me confirms that the best
minimalist films can capture immense perspectives, which are those of the heart and soul.
-
Any savvy keen movie goers?
Thursday, September 08, 2005
The thinkbox, connecting to such frangile incredulity. A pause in moment, a thousand gushing thoughts swimming perturbation into the set. Animosity boils the angry mind, and it possesses no peace. Sleep defies time.
A solemn morning hangs a deafening mist and hovers its wait to pounce negativity. Her tiny chestnut eyes now enclosing, into a surreal city of infinite colours.
A solemn morning hangs a deafening mist and hovers its wait to pounce negativity. Her tiny chestnut eyes now enclosing, into a surreal city of infinite colours.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Nightfall daunted by carousels and escapades
A stroke at twelve, two at unrest
In sweet caress; disoriented seductive enticement
Warped in divine reverie
When dreams come alive
In a picture of you and I
-
Assumptions sometimes cause misinterpretations, which lead to misunderstanding. To
summarise, assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups. I couldn't agree more. Kidding around excessively does not indicate me not being serious.
Going to soak up as much sun while I can tomorrow. Cooking at Nique's. I'm not over-settled with dreary matters that I blog in complexed terms at the end of every night.
Didn't modems do well? Wireless connection seems to be disconnecting every now and then.
A stroke at twelve, two at unrest
In sweet caress; disoriented seductive enticement
Warped in divine reverie
When dreams come alive
In a picture of you and I
-
Assumptions sometimes cause misinterpretations, which lead to misunderstanding. To
summarise, assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups. I couldn't agree more. Kidding around excessively does not indicate me not being serious.
Going to soak up as much sun while I can tomorrow. Cooking at Nique's. I'm not over-settled with dreary matters that I blog in complexed terms at the end of every night.
Didn't modems do well? Wireless connection seems to be disconnecting every now and then.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Arise to lethargy-injected brand new mornings; pondered last night over an eight-month's love's doings. Dusted nostalgia starting five years back; aplenty, recollected in retrospect. A virgin morning, new awakenings.
Much planned, yet lazy bones will always reign in a debate within the human body.
Will we ever tide through to a next day of rejuvenation, feeling dawdly and cosy in slept-in sheets, greeting one another a better day in utter love in the absence of stale memories from yesternights?
Edit/5:22pm
Been hopping from blog to blog, friendster account to account, took a few observations. There has been an increased figure of KC juniors that switched from blogspot online diaries to livejournal online diaries instead. Personally, the only good thing about livejournal is its convenient comment box and link, and that its user is allowed to include its current listens in the user's jukebox without having to feel like a juvenile typing song artistes and titles out (very much differentiated from blogger's style).
Singapore's far too microscopic to be exploring and discovering new things. As said and repeated, life is running dry on its hype juices.
Edit/11:25pm
HageFive's first anniversary is coming up this 16th September. Four of us, excluding Dana, who disappeared, are conferencing on MSN. Details make me happy. Banana we love you still. Quickly return.
Ingrid is rattling on about internship in the upcoming semester. I miss the five.
Much planned, yet lazy bones will always reign in a debate within the human body.
Will we ever tide through to a next day of rejuvenation, feeling dawdly and cosy in slept-in sheets, greeting one another a better day in utter love in the absence of stale memories from yesternights?
Edit/5:22pm
Been hopping from blog to blog, friendster account to account, took a few observations. There has been an increased figure of KC juniors that switched from blogspot online diaries to livejournal online diaries instead. Personally, the only good thing about livejournal is its convenient comment box and link, and that its user is allowed to include its current listens in the user's jukebox without having to feel like a juvenile typing song artistes and titles out (very much differentiated from blogger's style).
Singapore's far too microscopic to be exploring and discovering new things. As said and repeated, life is running dry on its hype juices.
Edit/11:25pm
HageFive's first anniversary is coming up this 16th September. Four of us, excluding Dana, who disappeared, are conferencing on MSN. Details make me happy. Banana we love you still. Quickly return.
Ingrid is rattling on about internship in the upcoming semester. I miss the five.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Wilted leaves descend to nothingness in an autumn's fall. The evergreen, blooms in adversity and sprouts out a neverending quench for life. A docile tune sways in unison, to a field of shared moments.
A familiar sensation of release fogs, remembrance reoccuring. Accidental acquaintance meets the revolutionary vectrums of a picture, perfected; mortality's reason for survival.
-
Tampines' having a cloudburst, and I can't seem to stop myself from blogging randomly. I feel like a million bucks, having nothing to do on a dark cold rainy Sunday, not worrying and fussing over work, being able to blog freely like I have nothing else to do.
Shopping with my favourite people yesterday was fantastic. 16th September is approaching! Judging from messages and the others' blog entries, I doubt any of the clique will be going to China for the CDS. I still want to go, although I have to stay local to earn extra cash for expenditure. I'm feeling the urgency to refill my wardrobe.
Harbouring plans of going Redang with Nique! Phoebe and Dana, interested?
Fuck, I am shrivelling from absolute boredom. Nothing exciting to do, nobody initiating anything amusing to do this holidays. So how? "Chuay gang zhor, ke tan lui".
A familiar sensation of release fogs, remembrance reoccuring. Accidental acquaintance meets the revolutionary vectrums of a picture, perfected; mortality's reason for survival.
-
Tampines' having a cloudburst, and I can't seem to stop myself from blogging randomly. I feel like a million bucks, having nothing to do on a dark cold rainy Sunday, not worrying and fussing over work, being able to blog freely like I have nothing else to do.
Shopping with my favourite people yesterday was fantastic. 16th September is approaching! Judging from messages and the others' blog entries, I doubt any of the clique will be going to China for the CDS. I still want to go, although I have to stay local to earn extra cash for expenditure. I'm feeling the urgency to refill my wardrobe.
Harbouring plans of going Redang with Nique! Phoebe and Dana, interested?
Fuck, I am shrivelling from absolute boredom. Nothing exciting to do, nobody initiating anything amusing to do this holidays. So how? "Chuay gang zhor, ke tan lui".
Friday, September 02, 2005
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