Damn. I can't really work it out for debate. I really give up sometimes.
I'm going to forget things and just enjoy my last few hours of peace.

Rather than slave away at my holiday homework before school starts on 2nd Jan, I am blogging.
I've just watched that Emo video on Erin's blog again. I was that bored.

Okay not bored really but rather frustrated at the simple complexity of crochet.
And pondering over morality (due to Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage)
And wondering if I should ever finish reading 家教情人梦
About some little depressed girl who wants to have a boyfriend and has bad grades.

I'm watching The Painted Veil. I've read the book. By Somerset Maugham.
I guess I never really had the intensity of the things being said and done sometimes.
I felt for Walter in that book though. I'll say that much.

Crochetogether

Crochet craze. Christmas craze.

Guess what I got for Christmas! I got a Knitting and Crochet Bible! It was given to me by a family friend.
One of the projects I am dying to try is the crochet heirloom blanket. It needs 225 motifs measuring 17cm by 17cm.

Yeah. One motif every day of the year and I should get there. Eventually.
I want to make a different pattern for every motif and save it for my coming-of-age. Or my confirmation.

For now it will be soaking up the last traces of festive cheer before new school term starts.
(where's that homework of mine?)

And finishing up the over-sized vest for my buddy and primary school friend, Shannon.
It's done in plain boring stockinette and is a pain in a neck of a time-waster.
At least the yarn I found was very reasonably priced.

Gotta go crochet!
Tell you more about my Knitogether and Crochetogether and Knotogether plans!

CROCHET!
I have just picked it up like the last two weeks and it is way easier than knitting

Guys I Like

Okay. So even if I AM a little relationship starved and don't go crazy over some guys I do have my weak spots. Namely this guy and Richard Gere. I'm not putting Richard Gere's photo because he is devilishly old. I officially was all for him when I saw the visa commercial and Shall We Dance?.

James Bond here, he's the new guy. I was watching the Monday night movies on channel 5 (yes, i don't have cable, therefore resorting to lamer channels) with him starring in them. Hearted the action scenes and "Tomorrow Never Dies" although I hated the close scenes. Why can't two people just stay friends? Even if one is remarkably handsome.
Third on the list is Richard Clayderman. A lesser known pianist by this era since he is also remarkably old. Try searching for Rhapsody in Blue. This guy's quite cool.
Then a minor string of my other swooning phases. Titanic's Jack Dawson, Barry Manilow for his singing, Kenny Rogers for the awesome looks and singing and lyrics of the songs he sang.

Okay. back to real life. I have to finish my Christmas presents for some people and the debate sessions are killing me. It is so difficult! Research and more research on Financial Incentives for Marriage and Parenthood. Next post will cover that.

Of Human Bondage

By Somerset Maugham. You know, he might just become my favourite author. I mean, I enjoyed the Painted Veil and I rather enjoy this novel even as I'm at page 59.

Middlesex was the most awesome book I have read in ages. The whole story is like wow and logically believable.

I'm knitting a vest for a friend. After which I shall pamper myself with one.

I'm going to be at Liang Court this Saturday night! I've picked out my outfit. I know I sound as though I'm going for a first date but I'm not. I wish I was. Romance seems so wonderful. The holidays are bad for singles. Left right and center you see couples holding hands, making out, clutching and groping each other and wearing egotistic t-shirts.

Okay! I know I've been very jealous. And going to the art class at Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts is not helping matters. On the way there you see so many guys and the western ideal man. Them and Asian girls dating. The worst part is that I've got Crush by David ringing in my head due to the guy in art class (thankfully it's a one week holiday class) playing it on his hand phone for the past two days before class began. Today's track pics included Avril's Skater boy which a another girl hated.

Right now I've got to think of ways to incorporate a theme into that gimongous (larger than A3) canvas we have to complete by Friday's lesson. We start practical work on Thursday. I'm thinking checkerboards. Chess boards. Vertical canvas. Looking up. Looking down- Bird's eyeview. A good sketch of someone. Just one really good sketch. A person whom I can connect with. Ah-Hah!

Flickr.

Okay, perhaps not. My national geographic. My printer ain't that good.

My mother got the teaching job. From the Ministry of Education to teach in a primary school.

Is that good or bad or evil? I mean she wants it a whole lot and she was repeating the whole interview and opening the letterbox everyday (for the first time) to check for the confirmation letter.

And guess what? Our oh so productive and effective government sent her a simple sms.

Which will mean I have lost my car rides to and fro from school. But Dad's going to send me to school everyday! Whee!

I guess I need to organise my time and prioritise with homework and other stuff. I NEED A DAILY PLANNER.

But what if I go wild or something? Like neglect my studies or hang out or wreck the place or set the whole place on fire? Unlikely, yes, but still.

Just when I thought my life was too boring to write about things heat up a little.

Licking Fingers

Topics I need to get out of my system:
1) Euthanasia
2) Contraceptives and Jabs and STD
3) BGRs
4) Tuition Homework

Today is a Monday, 17th of November, and Britain is wanting to promote jabs which causes their teenagers to become INFERTILE for three years.

Yesterday was Sunday and the invited preacher, an Elder of another church, was talking about Identity Beyond Sexuality. Which became more a topic on Sexuality and Homo-sexuality. and of course pornography and etc...

Following Saturday's Straits Times hollering about the euthanasia case in Italy where a dad who has kept his daughter on 16 years life-support because the church won't let him disconnect the feeding tube.

Which also included the sex-changed female who is now a male with a womb and is carrying their second baby.

Which is only half theirs since the male can't force his own into his vagina.

When there are hundreds of thousands of children who could be adopted in less waiting time than 9 months. Although putting those innocent minds into such fallen human corruption is no less than evil and torture to human beings. Other than making someone listen and watch the revised channel promoting HSM and Hannah and Camp-something. But how would I know? I don't even own cable.

So what is this world coming to? Just a final end and a heavenly banquet. I think we need a few more World Wars and total destruction of MTV and a NEW DICTATORSHIP in order for people like me to look up from our self-pity and actually go back to our roots back in the Garden of Eden.

Yes, fear my change the world plan.

Actually, fear my mental state more. I am listening to Loco Roco 2's advertisement with a sorrowful Waiting in the Weeds by the Eagles in the background. Erin, try it. You'll see where my mental degradation has led me.

On the brighter side, as Singapore wages war against the hourly rates of rooms on Joo Chiat Road to prevent sexual and sleazy activities although the smart alecs will head over to Geylang to finish their business transactions, CHRISTMAS IS COMING!

And I am playing Winter Wonderland by a bub called Merle Haggard (just clicking nice looking tracks) on YouTube.

But seriously! Admit it! The lighting and decorations on Orchard Road are designed by candy obsessed people who can't get the meaning of Christmas or good looking ornaments. I mean, at least presents rather than streets of candy hanging from trees and lamp posts pretending to be giant candy canes.

I have progressed to Silent Night. This guy's voice is quite nice and calming. When I'm supposed to be doing algebra.

Now I'm at Silver Bells.

There's no green and red feeling around or the feeling that there is Santa Claus and all his elves and Mrs. Claus. Although of course the whole meaning of Christmas is Jesus Christ being born even if not on the exact date of 25th December.

Perhaps Santa Claus is coming to town.

I am so sad I feel like crying and wallowing in my bed and pillows. Unfortunately, it is getting quite boring. I slept in for an hour before going to church then slept two hours in the afternoon and was in bed asleep by eleven. But I suppose it doesn't count since I woke up at 3 in the morning due to nothing and padded around the house before falling asleep again.

The sermon was on Sexuality. Groan. That topic is hitting me all over for a week or more. First it was Every Young Woman's Battle and now it's this whole chunk of a sermon on a late Sunday morning.

I am bleeding pretty awfully, the wound hurts too.

I wonder if I'll ever become an author. For babies perhaps, considering my current literary standard.

Nothing matters as much as making some worth of myself I suppose.

My dad raided my wardrobe in attempt to bring some semblance of order into it.

Will I ever become an author at least two people will go raving about? A dream I've been holding close for nearly three years is just so vapour-ish if there is such a word.

My Apologies

Sorry for that eminent weirdness in the previous two posts. Just to tell you that I am truly myself when I blog not just filtering my speech when I have live conversations with friends as great as you.

Blog Entry 03

This time it would be accepted to title this post in a more interesting way but I decided against it in case I turn it into a rant or digress in mid-post.

Anyways I feel like a plump blob of blubber. I've been doing as much as I can, cutting back food intake, running for exercise and pondering about the subject. I don't know whether I should convince myself that I am anorexic (when I am not) and just starve myself till I get to the desired weight (like that's going to happen with my love for food).

It hasn't been working even though I've been at it for over 20 weeks! Excluding mostly the examination weeks when you can't possibly run when you are already shack with the revision.

On the bright side I have a whole evening to about ten plus if I'm lucky alone on a Saturday night on the 6th of December. By the riverside where the night life of this city thrives. It would be nice to spend it with someone. Someone to talk to me as a total stranger yet a deepest friend. Without me worrying about abduction or any low lying rot like that.

How sad, for that day I'll have somewhere to go but no one to go with.

I'm starting on a teenager series of trouble. Eventually a good story? Hopefully yet dolefully I wait for it to take seed.

Blog Entry 02

Just to make myself feel better from my over-colliding hormonal sequence pattern partially due to PMS (just discharged egg), I am going to just type and blog anything and whatever that comes to mind as I am against doing my Chinese homework and my (is it lustful or masturbating?) thoughts.

People like cockroaches and tapeworms who are critical about my writing now, buzz off. I won't be bothering about my style for... weather check... the next three weeks or so until I finish the "Every Young Woman's Battle" self-help or God-helps book and "Middlesex" that irritatingly good writer's book.

As Paul said "Everything is Permissible but not everything is beneficial"

I finished the Chinese book I was supposed to read for tuition ages ago but it has seriously confirmed the vague ideas I had about Chinese writers. Let's list them.

1) Fake Suspense (Everyone couldn't care less about the stories there's no suspense)

2) No thinking space for the reader. (Apparently, the Chinese books and stories which I read, of which there are few, allow no room for the reader's opinion or the author's own true feelings because everything is so robotic-ly separated into right and wrong. what fun or enjoyment is there in reading a book which blatantly tells you right-from-wrong?)

3) Qin Shihuang and Mao have brainwashed them to thinking there is no freedom of speech. (Yeah, the books will be thrown into acid if they write about the scandals or the deteriorating quality of life.)

4) No respect is developed in the reader for the author. ( Perhaps it's just this little compilation of stories by the same author but she pokes her nose into every abyss of teenage misery she encounters without dragging the victims out by her hooked nose.)

Whatever. No one's going to read my blog so why should I bother with writing properly in what I believe is grammatical order. Nothing that comes out of me good enough unless it comes from God. Sigh. He better explain this whole cosmic plan to us one day about how He KNOWS everything but can also change HIS mind when we pray for mercy or forgiveness for fellow brethren.

I guess I would like to have someone to talk to heart-to-heart right now but unfortunately I have to worry about my Chinese tuition homework which I don't care much for. I can't see Melanie for if soonest the next fortnight. She's my friend, perhaps my best friend, and my longest friendship. Since before five years old. We were in the same church then and since I moved to another we see each other perhaps just twice a year. Thrice if lucky.

I miss childhood.

Every Young Woman's Battle

I got that book from Tecman, a Christian bookstore with a whole lot more.
Located at Bras Basah Complex opposite the Raffles Hotel.
Today someone commented on me tagging with my mother even at this age.
Which I am perhaps a bit too old for, being a teenager.
Apparently the saleswoman was rather alright with my parasitic behaviour due to my shortage of allowance.

Apart from the apparent digressing...

This book has quite gotten my attention and I leeched on my mother and she bought it for me. Score one for going out with parents.
It's about "Guarding your Mind, Heart, Body In a Sex-Saturated World"
This is the fourth book in the Every-dash dash's battle. As far as I could tell from the dedications, foreword and introduction.
A team of people are involved in the production and writing of the books as well as teenagers contributing their painful stories and opinions.
Published by WaterBrook Press
2007 Edition
Copyrighted 2004

This one is written by Shannon Ethridge and Stephen Arterburn

It is supposed to cover topics like dating, sexuality, virginity (Shannon had lost her's before marriage), God and our spiritual relationship with him, the modern thinking of sex and sexual provocation. Or at least along those lines.

Seriously, I find that some of the relationship thoughts have been going into my head. Not that I read overly crazy and unrealistic teenage romance like Twilight. Actually, I quite shy away from that genre.

I find that the modern fiction writers for my age group promote some things in the reverse psychology way or demoting them in the reverse psychology way.

There I go lying again. I read them because I have that stupid running round the bush teenage plot with the near perfect boyfriend in it which I made up. Mentions and cheering to me for thinking him up.

........

No applause?

Okay so yes. I got that guy's physical attractiveness from a brown haired Ken doll and Joe from The Tea Rose by Jennifer Donnelly.

So yes. In reading the book I hope to get all the falleness of my sexual nature out of my life and mental spaces and reconnect with God.

And to those non-commenting lurkers on my blog

"I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE GIRLS WHO GO AROUND DOING THAT KIND OF STUFF!"

To people like Erin and Megs and any of the apparently dismantling Muse Clique who actually bother to read this blog now you know what a boy-girl relationship obsessed person I actually am.

And how abysmally emotionally lacking of intelligence to keep my mental love life secret.

I think I am dying for a game of truth or dare. Let's play.

Okay whatever it is you dared me I am opting for a truth.

And I think up the question. Not you.

I have never had a boyfriend or a kiss or a date or a close male friend excluding my dad.
There. I said it.

Blog Entry 01

The numbered (Blog Entry) series will occur when I have either no better name for a post or when I just want to recount a day or week or month of a year in the life in my world.

Yesterday:

I have found that I like cooking. Especially pasta for my own consumption.
Greedy little tummy.
The neck-warmer i was instructed to do by my mother or more like ordered to make for my aunt in New York has too broad a width by her analysis.

Today:

Destroyed the intended neck-warmer and started on a lion brand yarn pattern for a scarf.
took me ages to coil back 23 cm of purl stitch with width about 22 stitches.
I found the pattern for a Basic Sampler Scarf which I am now knitting in lieu of the somewhat easier and more conservative neck warmer.
Went out for lunch with my mom and her Korean friend.
We had a nice yummy lunch and went to a cafe for drinks and cake

So much for the grubbing.

Then I had to make myself burn it off with a 2.4 run in 16 min 25-ish seconds.
Then a short walk with my mother before washing her car.
I saw the slacking cleaners in my condo.
At least they may have some good in them since I saw the growing carnation seedlings in the pot.
Ignoring my Chinese book.
Knitting quite sadly and quietly.
Going for dinner now at the Dining Table.

Gluttony

Chewing on a de-flavoured strip of Hubba Bubba Gum
Triple Berry
Smuggled from Europe to this country
This is not my Idea of fun.

I wish I was courting a man
With the intention of it carrying on. Not some fickle candle in the wind
Or at least a friendship, a deep one with a man

Today was all stern men
On the bus, in the shops
at least the ones which are in my age group or whomsoever I fancy

That does it. I can't think while attempting to rant.
All you need to know is that I have to finish a dull Chinese book
Dull only because of the language and the whole ideal right and wrong concept.
This by Thursday afternoon for the gallows of Chinese Tuition.

The Scarlet Letter

A rather in depth book about sin and guilt by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I was inspired to read it by Taylor Swift. Her singing "and I was your Scarlet Letter" in her song Love Story.

I think I should be more honest in my blogging and just rant like all my other fellow teen bloggers do. Be honest with myself.

That will start in the next entry.

Bad Day

A sad song turns around your day? I hope it does. I've listened to Daniel Powter's Bad Day at least five times in a row at this point. alright four from him and one chimpmunk version.

I'm sorry Kimisa. I know you know my blog now. I suppose you might never see this post. You're possibly watching your favourite "I Survived a Japanese Gameshow" right now. You'll never know what's in your plain sight. This was possibly the trigger.

You don't know. Why should I bother? Then I feel that this is my only way out.

It's like this. My mother does not really like me on such close terms with you. I don't get it, I mean I get her reasoning about the religion combats we will face but I just wish that God could carry me through those.

I have a few close friends at church and in this circle of my life. Then why do I want to be with you as a friend? You made me love you to much. The manga you drew, your own boldness.

I can't send this sort of point directly to you so I have to do it in the presence of the whole web and face the stupid bleeding risk of you seeing it at the same time.

Perhaps if life was a music video we could all cheorograph at our own pre-ordained style it might work out. You'll be the person who spray paints everyday after a bad day at school on the pavement along the road which my eyes see everyday. I'll be the person who writes next to it in chalk that the rain washes away. Then one day you'll see my initials before the rain comes.

Sorry if I've been emoing out because of that.

Hang it All

Dash it all that little insignificant language mark.
I waste hours and money on the pitiful little language and I find no enjoyment in it.

Let me dash all hopes of becoming a English-French bilingual. Right now, the outrageous government just wants all of us citizens under their education scheme to learn our mother tongue regardless of the nowhere it's going to lead most of us. We'll bloomingly forget the lump of stuff we learn other than basic conversational Chinese.

Really. Other than the ability of speaking to 1.3 billion people in China and smatterings of other non-China people who know the language that's about it. You can't use it as a Morse code in Singapore. Even in France you can't use it as a Morse code because of all the other CHINESE people KNOW THE LANGUAGE.

While we're at that we can wilt away the time we could have otherwise spent on the things we treasure in the wide spectrum of academics.

I'm not against Chinese or anything but this sort of force-feeding has got to stop. The culture and heritage I hold in great esteem but it's the same as race isn't it? It holds you down when you want to delve into other areas and spaces.

It is important but to each his own. What is food to one is lethal poison to the other. My English grade has worsened (though perhaps not Chinese's fault) and that haranguing red mark from my Chinese makes me feel so insignificant I feel like chucking away my writing dreams and becoming the little toddler in the system. Toddling from high school to varsity. That's all they want from us. Just that. No high expectations. Nope.

HOW UNCONVINCING IS THAT?

Some people are forced into some types of work and there are hundreds and thousands out there striving for a living and daily bread and gruel. So why am I complaining?

Just say that I am a stubborn, ill-contented, selfish, self-absorbed, wishful thinking, spoiled, indecent brat of a teenager.

Obama Won!

Thank you for noting that Erin. As a token of my esteem and respect towards you I shall now request the lurkers around this blog to buzz over to your blog where they can thrive as lurkers since your blog does not have a bleeding comment system or tagboard.

Obama WON! At least now we don't have to hide our faces and duck for cover should Mc Cain become president and attend some meeting in Singapore which our Prime Minister is cordially inviting the truly elected president to in his congratulatory letter to Mr Obama and his Vice-President.

I'll need to resort to ebay soon. There is no other way I can get my much needed yarn.

......

That was an exceedingly long movie break. I am just too stuck into the Disney movies. Motion pictures of course not the HSM nonsense that passes for a movie nowadays. Just watched The Black Cauldron, which was a disappointment. Not as many funny lines or anything as the usual stream.

ADMIT IT! Disney is the awesomest movie producer of this age other than it's crazy propaganda of teenage life.

Am I Lovesick?

I seriously think I am. I have this continuous love-story with the same old characters with occasionally different settings running through my head since I was playing Barbie. Which is yes, ages ago. Now it has evolved to a near Beauty and the Beast setting with only modern people. Potential spark whenever I revisit my childhood favourites.

First it was the Malaysian trip to Port Dickson last weekend (I'll elaborate more this week). I spent a memorable ten minutes or so sitting across this lonesome Indian chap with the sea breeze in my face. It isn't exactly me checking him out or anything but it started me thinking about relationships and the possible advances he might make. Thankfully we were just two folks staring at nothing in particular and sipping water.

Of course I was knitting: that made him stare at my needles for awhile. Turns out I was a lot calmer after that. May have been the sea air or that singular human presence. I left after that for my shower. Later that night I believe he was one of the two chaps sleeping on the benches where we sat.

Second was the train ride. Just a few stops. I chanced to sit next to a blond guy. It was certainly uncalled for but I think it started my irritating brain cogs wondering who I might eventually end up with. If only all people wore wedding or engagement rings. No problems or worries that you are chatting up a married guy or girl. I quite "fall in love" with random people with no particular looks when in a line queuing for food or in the bus.

He was not handsome or dashing or wearing a crisp business suit (any of those would have been quite attractive). Just a plain man in t-shirt and shorts. Like what a friend told me, when you are single and guys don't notice, you feel awfully insignificant. I have never been in a real dating relationship or even boy-girl so my only experience is when I dream about it. a.k.a the weird characters scenario.

Third. The newspaper boy. It is so clique I want to scream. An average looking newspaper boy can really hit you hard when he comes for the payment when you are dressed in nothing but shorts and a P.J top. Like the Avenue Q song "I'm not wearing underwear today"

I believe he's about a few years older than me. Collecting the payment for a few years now but there's nothing more I do when I see him but pass him the money and get my change and receipt.

I hope this does not affect my mental reputation with my friends who know this blog. I'm just feeling a little lovelorn. And practically old when someone thought I was my mother's friend. Gross.

No Comment

I am irate, pissed off, and certain muses always get the bulk of the burden. I just spent the past two and a half hours unravelling and coiling back two small ball's worth of pre-knitted yarn. Ribbing no less. Two knit two purl.

It was meant as a Christmas present and I finished 15cm of it and there is seriously not enough yarn to be knitting two strand at a time. It is also a discontinued type of yarn in possibly the only shop in my district selling it.

Now I've got to start again and finish it with using the horrendous exercise of using 98 stitches per row for about 32 inches or 81.5 cm.

If only the yarn was still available. Anyway, I'm in a foul mood and feel like snapping at the slightest thing. I suppose there are fouler moods than this to get through. Problem is for the past few days I've been having drastic highs and lows in a single span of 24 hours. This tops it.

I wish I had bought Dracula. I could use some blood and gore and murder to satisfy my hunger. Both physically and emotionally.

Spunky Grandmas

Most wouldn't agree but that elderly lady selling malt candy at Holland Village outside the Crystal Jade Restaurant has spunk n' attitude.

Mother passed me two dollars for her and I had to give it because apparently, people get shy when they reach their mid-life crisis. The malt candy costs one dollar.

I gave her the money after greeting her "po-po" (grandma in chinese) and she just squatted down to get the malt candy from the old steel pot. The candy looks like burnt caramel. Really sticky, she just got some of it on a small stick about three inches with the help of a flat wooden spatula.

She handed it to me and just waved me impatiently away. Without the change of one dollar which was intended to be given to her. Mind reading or just acknowleging charity?

Contradiction and Unproductiveness

Contrary to what I have mentioned in the previous post, the nails turned out horrible. Or more like the comments I received about them were. They looked alright and I managed to apply the french manicure look on four fingers but my mother came in and said that the quality was not good enough. Just because we were going on a stressful vacation in the midst of my dad's colleagues and my first meeting with his new boss. It's the boss who's new, not my dad.

It's the trip to Port Dickson in Malaysia. And the meeting of our relatives, just a friendly couple, which makes my mother a whole conservative 19th century woman. Not that I can blame her. I blame the exuberant manicure and pedicure prices about US$50 for both. Excluding the french nails.

What's to blame? The bad economy and the whole thing about people looking down on the others. Please, as long as the nail polish is not on my hair it is fine. I mean you see people walking and working with a streak of red nail polish on each nail. Who cares if I couldn't be bothered with the expense of a wanted "luxury"? Paying a bomb for paint and service is not pleasurable.

I'm in an exceedingly foul mood. I am expected to do so many things to be presentable. Such as eat properly and give intelligent answers and dress with style since it's to reflect on our lifestyle. I suppose it is the same as every other type of world there is but I'm quite sure most people say live and let live when they see teenagers.

All the nail polish is gone now and I have gastric.

The Artist who Can't Paint Nails

My morale is at an all-time low. I have concluded that no matter how nice your drawing may look or how nicely done your mediocre watercolours may look, your nail painting skills will quite suck. Nevermind I shall keep them on and leave them as so.

For the Want of Company

I had a wonderfully insightful chat with a friend of my mother who also considers me a friend. Despite our obvious age difference we hit on quite well on some topics. She's Ellen and lives in New York City, just dropping by into the humble streets of Singapore after 3 glorious weeks in New Zealand.

It's amazing how the three of us (Ellen, my mother and me), can talk for three hours straight in a little cafe with just three drinks and a slice of cake. That woman is seriously engaging and has no qualms talking to someone who could nearly pass of as her grandchild by a couple of years.

Oh I do envy some youngsters in America, how surrounded they are by engaging people. I haven't yet found a westerner boring. I suppose many would beg to differ.

Ellen has got such a splendidly horrific idea in my head. To spend about ten thousand on a trip to New Zealand and get into a nearly full transparent helicopter and view the snow-peaked mountains from a height of 8000 feet and a dangerously driving pilot. A pilot who has every intention of landing on a lake hanging off the solid rock of a mountain. Yet for a woman in her late fifties that was quite a daring act. Telling her children to get ready for an early inheritance no less and telling them to wait a couple more decades after surviving the ordeal.

Of course we women are strong hearted. Her husband, who was quite game and to whom she consented, didn't dare take photographs of the panoramic view which plunges you straight into the ravines of death in peaceful New Zealand.

It's strange how much I crave a proper conversation with people. I have few friends to talk to in great detail on moral issues like abortion or capital punishment. Or even listen to someone talking in an interesting tone about the current economic and social status of America, though briefly. These days, such things are rare and far between. It's hard to keep up with long distance contacts and hard to bear with the longing to meet up with them soon. I miss her already and she'll be leaving tomorrow for the plane flight back to New York presumably.

Here's to the Holidays. Holidays with the capital "H", it deserves the title.

Starting a Lucrative Business

Hello bubs! I feel like I want to start a small side-line. During the holidays I'll write stories and sell them to people who want to have their plots written by me. Like that's going to happen. It's worth a shot. I am trying to start a good storyline but it is only average. Not that sort of killer book which has a plot you can't really resist not taking a glance at.

Holidays start in two days so I shall be experiencing the flush of being free from the boredom of school.

Tell me how to do something nonconstructive... please. Something nonconstructive but fun and engaging. Like playing a random word game. We played that today while suffering heat-stroke. You say a word and the next person says a completely random word in comparison to what you said. So a word like "jelly" can bring about "Paris Hilton" or say... great I forgot that really interesting scenario. My tree begetting a word like "Sarah Palin". So it's quite entertaining for about 15 minutes so long as no one is that boring in the group.

Signing off with no proper care of paragraphing.

Change of Tune

I shall not lie to myself, the truth that I have received 63.5 upon 100 for my English papers is a fact. If any nuisance people dare post anything about their own marks or any in-between-the-line comments I shall hunt them down. The school campus is not large enough to hide someone on the verge of crying really.

Only I did not break down after those dismal marks. You can't really do that sort of thing when your other subjects are better than a friend who really puts her self down. Sometimes all of us have exceedingly low self-esteem especially when most of us depend on the way others view us to rank ourselves.

She views herself through her parent's expectations and perhaps her own want to prove herself better than me in a way. I presume the above since I had one small consolation; I had top marks for Geography, a tie with another girl. Then again she has such a better outlook in life despite some of her family conditions and the better English score between the both of us.

I suppose it would be a lie for me to say I did my best for the essay. It turned out horribly. A catastrophe. My language just does not turn itself to the right pitch for the exams. I have such whimsical ideas about life and what could happen. Next time I shall play the honest fool and lead myself by the noose to something seemingly more practical.

Milan Kundera's Laughable Loves is getting partially into my head. I wonder if I will ever accomplish such a literary achievement in my life. I quote," One doesn't live for oneself. One always lives for something." I bet I always lived on the hope of being a writer since 11. Such crumbling hopes.

One thing I forgot to add about the story (I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith), the story is written in three journals with increasing monetary value. One about sixpence, then a shilling, then two guineas. It is quite an amount in those simpler and poorer regions of England at that time I suppose.

I wonder if I should get a moleskin or a nice leather-bound notebook of reasonable size as my drafting book. I suppose I own quite an expensive model. This computer but it does get a bit monotone. No changes in font or writing style purely determined by mood. My other journals have no such significance to me. I think I may need a new pen to go along with it. a blue rather than a grieving black. I have been using that blasted colour for the entire examinations.

At least there is a short weekend stay by the beach along the Straits of Melaka at Port Dickson soon. Just a short weekend but nonetheless the waves and a book will soothe me. Just about two weeks from now on the first of November till the third.

I should like a good cry but since there are no tears to let out I might as well save myself the trouble. Tomorrow is Friday, I think I will head to town and sit at a hopefully quiet cafe. There will be hardly any with the crowd that patrons the few places possible to go to. I feel like a caged bird now. Four more papers to receive the verdict from tomorrow.

Ah, dear tomorrow.

Writer's Wager: I Capture the Castle

Otiose wagers win no gold for me. For such a "satirical writer" I found Dodie Smith's book too much of a cliffhanger. I have had experiences with the best books I have read thus far, The Tea Rose and the sequel The Winter Rose. Seriously I hope and pray that Jennifer Donnelly will finish the last to wrap up the family.

I doubt I'll get a word out of Dodie Smith's clamped mouth. Hope I can find the chance to batter her with questions once both of us are admitted to heaven. Her vocabulary was quite extensive only it makes me feel quite inferior to that awfully mature 17 year-old Cassandra. I relate uncannily with her and it quite scares me. It is nearly the story of my feelings save the fact that the only romances I've waltzed into are those of those dear handsome men in books female writers think up.

So yes, the story ends with him possibly going back to America and her in her dear little village at the end page of her journal. Never to tell us again in that sort-of pact she made with herself not to write journals.

The wager was placed and lost. I was expecting something spectacular. I am way to fussy with the endings. The middles are the best. The thing I hate was that I could not half-guess the ending. I kept getting it mixed up. I can mostly feel content with some endings but some are just either too deflated or too filled with suspense.

Actually, I've only wanted to know the ending so much when I read this book. The only other time was when I read the Winter Rose.

Thank Heavens I've got some nice novels up my way. First up is Milan Kundela's Laughable Loves and I shall attempt to get a copy of the still unread The Unbearable Lightness of Being once some money shores up.

Then to the Classics again with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I heard it is quite a good novel. i am very taken by it's fine print. Finer but clear prints make me find books more profound. Not the squashed look of the Penguin Classics print (the cheap green paperback type) but something remotely elegant like Arial or Verdana in a small font. What am I doing now? Comparing fonts and styles when all I want to do is see the original manuscript which the writers worked on. That Jennifer Donnelly refuses to send a page to me.

All for now, please visit my fan fiction.

Going Insane

Forgive me, I am feeling absolutely insane. I am mistaking people for my close friends left right and center. I just made someone think I was officially insane on the phone 20 minutes ago.

What I have done since Friday (End of Exams)
1) Finished 1 side of the fingerless gloves for my friend
2) Started reading a new novel, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
3) Started my mother's christmas knittted gift
4) Walked up to the summit of Bukit Timah hill which is a miserable 163 m
5) Getting off writing my church sermon entries (i am due to write 2)
6) Realising how awful I find myself sometimes
7) Met up with Tragedia, the new muse of the block
8) Found out that Butterscotch isn't doing too well
9) Ending a short post to explain my absence
10) Going to finish that chapter on my fiction press

Reminder my fictionpress webpage is http://www.fictionpress.com/~musemneme

I'll try posting awfully soon on some issues only I want to kick myself out of the writer's block!

Apology Letters and Tests

Aw...I feel so touched. My friend sent me a sms to apologize and i felt quite bad about screaming at her on the windows live messenger scream and repetitively winking and nudging. childish huh?

I couldn't take it, she was playing her virtual online dancing game in the midst of our end-of-years. yeah, i do envy her carefree life. who wouldn't only she goes freak out during the exam like today during our general science paper.

i need to do a commentary on yesterday's sermon only i have no time

tell you bubs the rest soon (i understand i am not typing with capitals)

Ezekiel. raise me up Lord

Crying. That's what I'll be doing for quite a while. I have 9 lives like a cat. I will lose 8 in the examinations and one on the results day. Yes, it is going that bad for me.

At least there's still the church to lean on every Sunday. Today's sermon was on Ezekiel Chapter 37:1-14. The valley of the very dry bones. Ezekiel was taken to a valley full of bones in a vision from the Lord. There, he saw many dry bones, a scene devoid of life.

"Son of man, can these bones live?" (trick question? the pastor brought it up)

"O Lord God, You know."

God told him to prophesy to the bones, saying that the Lord God would attach sinews and muscles and flesh and skin onto the bones. He would breathe into them the breath of life.

Imagine talking to bones when you know they are all good and dead. It's like the theory that plants grow better listening to music only bones are technically inanimate objects.I know stuff like inferi and sorcery games have those things rattling along with green smoke... but I think it was a bit more professional.

Most people take history right? What can you infer from unburied bones? They were unhonoured and for them to be very dry they must have been scavenged by vultures and wild beasts and decomposing bacteria. The bones were baked and bleached white in the scorching sun and have no resemblance to the men or even the cadavers they once were other than the main shape.

They represented the scattered people of Israel and Judah. They had lost their favour with God and had lost their blessing because they turned away from him to the gods and goddesses. So in exile the Israelites cried out, "We have become old dry bones." They felt God's presence lost. It's like a separated clique or a separated group of people, all of them feel out of place.

But God wanted to revive them, to send His Spirit and breath to them again because he loved them. So he sent Ezekiel to the vision where suddenly all those little jumbled up bones joined together and flesh came on like stem cell research. Then there's this mass of inanimate blood and flesh. When God said to Ezekiel to say to the bones (yes, it is a little weird, the bones, now corpses, would hear God if they could hear a little guy) that God would breathe into them the breath of life, they became alive.

The whole army of Israel, the living, breathing army in the valley where their dead bones once lay. Just because God loved them so much that he would bring them back again after they knew they were wrong.

When he was at it, pastor mentioned the cheesy advertisement which people paid big bucks to produce and will have the sequel next month. Here's the link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgdYU6iDyh8

Watch it or you won't know what I'm talking about.


See? People need to be told they are loved. Then they feel happy. God told Israel he loved them by by assuring them with this vision he gave to Ezekiel even when they doubted. God promised them so much in those verses, verse 12 and 14 of the passage. It was His glory and reputation at stake if he did not accomplish what he had promised and He did do it. He brought them back home.

But then people don't want to be like that cheesy commercial. We are individuals with our own dreams and aspirations. Our own boss and the person who decides our own lives. We won't drink that plum juice or religion down so easily even with all the facts of no preservatives and now broken promises. That's why the Israelites disobeyed the commandment and chose to believe in other gods instead. A "Because I love you." situation is not always enough to make us feel like it.

I'm basically writing the whole notes for today's sermon. I want to try doing this every week when possible. Not next week but the following. One of my friend's blog has the sermon summarized. It's really heartening. Thanks Tragedia, I'll try finishing the next chapter on fiction press soon. The moment my exams stop. I will be a free, liberated woman.

Hi there again. New muse to our clique now, The Muse of the Indescribable, Tragedia. We rely mainly on a email cum Windows Live Messenger correspondence and have only met once. Going to meet up once the exams are over and discuss some issues since she's new to the clique and all.

Priority now : Exam Schedule

Thursday : English Essay and Paper (needing a good grade)

Friday : Chinese Essay and Paper (needing a miracle) Receiving Art Paper

Following Friday : History 1 hour 20 minutes I think ( help with the inference)

Monday: General Science (You get it... A year's worth work being revised in two weeks)

Tuesday: Geography (Same as Science)

Wednesday: Math (die try it i need a Good Grade)

Thursday: Literature (Seen and Unseen Prose and Unseen Poem)

Friday: Art Paper and Study of the Visual Arts History (I want to do well... It is the only confirmed paper I will pass)

Trust me, the Literature Subject in itself is like a great subject but TWO essays in 1 hour 45 minutes? The darling person wouldn't tell us which story our seen prose was coming from. There are three to study and one has a main character with big wide skirts and big wide pockets!

Gotta go! Computer access terminated.

Knitting and FictionPress

Knitting like anything now, and I bought yarn and books which sums up to about say 30 plus pounds. My wallet hurts like anything after that. I'm not that much a shopaholic but my allowance does make my "spending" feel like over-spending.

Fictionpress is this quaint yet raunchy website community where you can register and post all the stories you've ever wanted to publish. Some of the authors are way good. There's quite a good search engine for stories and what ever by genre and long stories are divided into chapters. Plus, by some odd way of the person who started it, there is an online dictionary at the top of the page.

Here's my profile which is really empty. I have started a little of a story going but it looks horrible for the time being. http://www.fictionpress.com/~musemneme

Wish me luck for completing my homework and my upcoming exams!

Oh, just to let you know I gave up on Kandera's Unbelievable Lightness of Being and settled to finish the English Patient which was good. Till after the exams I guess.

sorry for not posting

BUSY!

Olympics

World's fastest man and the most arrogant show-off I've seen in quite a few years. I'm betting that in ancient Greece even he couldn't run like that. Especially without funky sports wear and fan girls. I doubt any of the athletes would be sure enough of themselves to race stark naked. With the video camera shooting their every move. ahem.

I'm reading a novel I borrowed from a church friend. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. Born 1929 Czechoslovakia and it was translated from the Czech. She borrowed my Jane Eyre so I guess that counts as fair trade!

Oh and Lydia writes to invite me to go to London for the 2012 olympics. Well. I'll need at least say 300 pounds odd for a week or so of expenses excluding accomodation to visit the city. Going very cheap of course. Excluding air fare. Air fare is say about 737 pounds for a two way flight. I shall try a cheaper airline, with what-nots dealing with inflation knobs and crazy exchange rates. 1200 pounds I'd say. And those ridiculous prices will go up even higher during the Olympics. Sorry Lydia, 2012 is a good year only not during the Olympic heat!

That was some fun. I went to check budget airlines and I found Quantar going for 584 pounds. Roundtrip. Oh I envy those people with private jets or the substantial wallets to purchase a nice good cozy seat while still studying. I just like traveling to exclusive loctions too much. I mean, an average girl living on another continent doesn't go to London on this sort of whim and fancy alone right?

title is not relevant

its something like i'll never know when i'm wrong yet i'll never want you to tell me
i used to hate this clan of people yet it seams i am their daughter
how could i have done this, drive this stake into you both

yes, i am such a hateful creep. its like i've done something to two best buddies. which possibly may or may not be the case but just in case i have a memory loss when they next emo out again i'll just leave this note cum mental reminder.

Classroom Side Effects

I feel slightly odd today. Like everything was built up and then crumbling into a mound of tissues and mucus and tears. Which did happen. I suppose some people see more than a crow killing and guzzling a more defenceless bird's innards, a dissected preserved bunny all innards facing out, a 50 year old specimen of a still-born human fetus, bottled tapeworms and arachnids, and received an A grade for CHINESE and actually did get it until they bothered to check that the marks calculation and got a bleeding 9 marks lower. Oh, and in a space of 7:50 a.m to 2:15 p.m on August 13th and thankfully not a Friday.

Staying in a classroom for more than required is detrimental to mental stability. Looking out of the classroom windows and observing the next building and the roof is very dangerous. You suddenly see a black streak and a bunch of white feathers floating around like dandelion fluff (although I've never seen dandelion fluff). The thing was, it was free period and I could have easily chased away that crow if I ran outside fast enough. But did I? No. Perhaps it was mercy, let that crow have his lunch and the bird less panting and getting blood all over the grass. You could see it struggling and the wings flaying to stay back its attacker.

That is the first death I've witnessed. Not to mention the array of specimens of death in the Science lab about three periods later. Plants, frogs, tadpoles, king crab, jellyfish junior, tapeworm, dog tapeworm, leech, earthworms, beetles, praying mantis, arachnids, Mr. Bunny, baby John (as nicknamed by the school years ago), a coral, some other stuff I suppose but mostly that. And I was walking around like a dummy in the science lab wearing a jacket in the bleeding heated humidity of midday becuase of my sneezing nose which DID NOT sneeze at the specimens and my sore throat. Science test tomorrow on energy, photosynthesis and respiration.

Then the dreaded results. I was nearly jumping when I got 50/70 which would equate to 70/100 with my project added. The test was very difficult. Some of the words would only be taught at 2 to 3 years from now. Which is a lot of difference. You check the marks and you suddenly get 61. You tell the teacher. You are fuming at her because she is in fact a Chinese national from China no less (Olympics...) who apparently does not know how to add marks anand turns a 41 into a 50. So much for the rigorous training in maths they say Chinese students get. Then you walk back to your desk fuming at yourself for being so truthful and mathematically inclined for the past near 1000 years of receiving marks. And naturally the greatest casualties are from Chinese and Mathematics and Science papers. Nearly never English. Only once for English I believe. Funny right?

Slightly Musing

Sorry, I just can't think of a better heading. We had Matthew chapter 14 today during sermon. It is Sunday and a school holiday tomorrow. I love days like today save the presentation I have to do by tuesday. No, now my friend says to do the report. Groan. Thank heavens its a copy and paste thing.

I went away for an hour or less to go for a run and when I took off my shoes, my feet were really hot. Emitting heat. It is always after a run that it is just nearly innocent desire for the water running down your back. Does not help matters with the swimming pool in front of the gym. I envy people with long hair. I only have a long fringe which is just utterly cooling with all the water running down it.

flipped through my book of penguin romantic poetry which i bought for forty bucks. (last year and still not even starting much, what a big hole in the pocket) and there was a nice poem about first love (poor guy) and a poem tittled the Partial Muse. From Charlotte Smith's Elegiac Sonnets. Here it is.

The partial Muse has from my earliest hours

Smiled on the rugged path I'm doomed to tread

And still, with supportive hand, has snatched wild flowers

To weave fantastic garlands for my head;

But far, far happier is the lot of those

Who never learned her dear delusive art,

Which, while it decks the head with many a rose,

Reserves the thorn to fester in the heart.

For she still she bids soft Pity's melting eye

Stream o'er the hills she knows not to remove-

Points every pang, and deepens every sigh

Of mourning friendship, or unhappy love

Ah, then how dear the Muse's favours cost

If those paint sorrows best, who feel it most!

A muse is never a pretty little thing.

Save Me

Help: Reasons

1) Chinese test tomorrow
2) Defiant rule disobeyer towards the no consumption of food in the room
3) French is making no progress
4) Fictionpress is taking over my mind space
5) Hairspray song Lady's Choice is getting sick since we have to dance a lame mass dance
6) Found out that 1 out of 3 surveyed students from Sec 3 to JC, 15 to 18, are sexually active in some areas.
7) Okay more than some areas
8) Sexually Transmitted Infections will be tested this year-end
9) Writing sucks now and I still want to be a writer
10) Drama: We got third out of 8 groups
11) Art: a boring animation assignment again
12) I need more chocolate although my BMI as for today is 22.5 if I round off my height to closest cm.

I have finally persuaded myself to borrow the Human Anatomy book from the library. Seriously, cadavers in this book look alive, the way they peer down at their disected selves during the Renaissance and those ages before photography. Gross huh? it was my mother who first showed me the book, and the back page showed a coloured disected skull. The subsequent pages I flipped to were unsurprisingly pictures of fetus remains in their mother's wombs. Thankfully all sketched.

Tests, tests, tests. History on Tuesday and Chinese on Thursday. Major test the Chinese. Ah well, life goes on. I should be studying now but I can't be bothered since I want to clear out all the stuff I need to complete for the extra boring subject other than the fact we watched part of Remember the Titans and will finish watching it the following week on Friday!

Things to do: Find out how to write about racial and religious conflict for that boring subject

study for History and Chinese

Finish the other side of the knitted arm warmers

Read about the Human Anatomy and finish the library novel.

Email back all my friends living in a lower humidity climate in this world. How I wish it was cooler!

Oh my word, I am so out of touch. Massie darling, the web link does not work. Announcing the first muse to join the muse clique and one of my two betas! drumroll.... The Muse of Randomness, also Massie Block, alpha of the clique. The "same" Massie in the clique series of which I only have one book! Laugh out loud, my book reading is confined to rereading of fond old stories. The type I read when I was innocent 11 and 12.

What genre would suit me better now? Second or Third day moon phase nearly killed me today. GROAN. MOCHA!

I got my charm bracelet on the 5th of July. It only has one charm, a small tag with the words:

Name:

Tel:

Birth:

Blood type:

Unfortunately I doubt I can engrave my name on it, which reminds me. I need to find a ring engraving jeweller. I suppose it fits my name a little. Misnomer. Muse of the Misnamed and can't be named. Love's on my mind a little too much, especially with the topic reproductive organs in science. I am so glad my science teacher was female. But its so unfair. Guys get to produce theirs all the time while women only get 10,000 eggs and most are lost by the phases of the moon. I don't want to know how many I've lost already.

The whole thing about the husband losing interest in his wife strikes home every time. With my mother watching Korean soap operas with adultery as the main theme... I find the whole marriage thing too fragile. It might work if you could only say "I Love You" once a month though. Or not. Quarantine from each other each consecutive year? Only works for those really crazy lovers.

What would it be like? That kind of longing. Too bad, my heart has fallen for the kind of lover you find in stylised fiction. The type who catches your breath no matter how many times you see him. The Jodi Picoult cum Jennifer Donnelly type hunk.

Better go. I have chinese homework and need to catch up with my favourite primary school junior!

Random Poem

The Poetry Table

Hello, I received your letter last week
Only there was no time to read it until today’s twilight
I will meet you at the café where celestial stars and moons rays trickle through
The prison like bone cage of glass and modern metal
Must we meet there? It is hardly a café, more a bar where drunks drink away shillings
I shiver whenever one of them passes me, reeking of wasted pennies and his wife’s blood
They hit their wives and children

Can you bear that play of shame in front of your eyes? The bartender
He doles out the beer and gin which makes men violent, it is his living I know but
It is not ours to see the pun of slurring words meant to offend us

You mentioned in your letter that you are worried about our studies
It may worsen, that is sure, but we needn’t be swept up by its spurs and whips into captivity
We have found a gentle zephyr of freedom now have we not?
Do not fret over going to the easy life, it only restrains our thoughts
Moreover, where would that leave us in any case? Back where we started, again

I have found a hostel near the university and it is relatively comfortable
It is merely a single bedded room with a toilet, a bath and a small kitchen
The rent is a lot cheaper without room servicing although the manager checks every month
My slate and ink is stowed away in my wardrobe
Too many people stray from their rooms at night to search for outlets of lust
I have too often heard a secret woman’s secret vomiting
Through the bared thin walls of plaster and weak concrete
She lies in the room above me singing ballads in a rap voice unsuited unless in love

And you? How is your training for the veterinarian career?
Do the people at the hostel and your lodgings suit your taste?
Alternatively, are the plains stretched before your horizon as bleak as the Arctic scene?
Pray that it is more merry and gay rather than garish and crude.

Shall we go to Lourdes once we graduate? A breath of fresh air
Spiritual release and a holiday would do my haggard soul and body major renewal
Catholics take that place as a religious pilgrimage, where holy water floes
I would gladly take the chance to go to Mary’s meeting point
Where miracles, I hearsay, have been done
Much more the miracle of letting my pen freely flow once more
Perhaps a plot will be of you and me ending differently than now

Love, your dearest friend, Muse of the Misnamed, Misnomer

God bless you my sister.

Reply my poem soon, even a note will serve your purpose.

moon

moon, rising high above... don't you know how many minstrels have died for you

can you see the lovers swearing their love with your rays upon their lips

leaving homes, the vagabonds look to you with their upturned eyes
crying softly when you hide away, treading surely when you hang, up high
you, hide all the stars when they stay close to you

the astronomers and navigators can no longer tread the star wanderer's voyage


moon, you are just an orb... shining mystically bright, waxing

werewolves answer your call, from sane men into the unthinking blood-thirsty

when you wane into darkness, Hecate's witches cackle in delight
robbers and burglars of life work with the blood reflecting a fraction of your light
you steal other's light to reflect it into our eyes. trust not the thief.


moon, mice follow your light, only to find they can never reach you
like so many have wished that they could walk on your surface to meet their lovers
you separate those who live on you from those who live on earth
and yet each night, we are forced to scan the skies to find you
our only comfort is in seeing something so serene and tranquil
still thriving despite everything else

Top 10 Things I want to do now

1) write a fantastic plot for a novel (which I can't)
2) escape reality (inclusive of art lesson today and homework)
3) lose weight faster (those stated below will not help)
4) the chocolate bar in the fridge (yum...)
5) the macadamia ice-cream in the freezer (what?! study makes you hungry)
6) lie on the steps leading to the Metropolitan Museum (New York! i miss you)
7) learn french in 30 seconds (why bother in 30 days?)
8) finish reading Dante's Inferno (passed the wood of the suicides)
9) quit learning Chinese (you would if you had to learn it)
10) use youtube without fear of getting sued.

Climbing Trees

Not that I can climb trees, of course. Just a little fantasy I had today after running 2.4 km, I believe exercise makes you hallucinate. I was thinking of Europe again and all the stories I've read. With people climbing trees and those fields and mountains and gallons of fresh milk. It would be a nice thing if your love could climb trees and help you to a secluded branch where you could see the view through the canopy of green leaves with sunlight streaming down in pinpricks of light.

And now I know the reason for my obsession with youtube. I need some one's voice in my head continuously or I get bored or another word for lonely. Mom doesn't really like it but I think I can't live in silence. My own thoughts are too loud for me and I just like the being-in-another-world-other-than-your-life feeling.

Lets get this girl's big fat head back into her study circle shall we?

a land without punctuation

i saw this in a book by philip roth sabbaths theater and thought i would use this idea no matter how sick that book made me think of things without punctuation no paragraphs no pauses just chunks of information like some stupid factual report only this is without anything to tell you where one point ends and begins laugh out loud i will try typing like that but i keep typing full stops and stuff my bookshelf can probably take 10 medium thick books before it bursts becomes properly arranged full house i am munching on cornflakes and attempting to read the last 70 plus pages of the hobbit by j r r tolkien i will spare readers the agony of reading without punctuation now we will know how essential those dots and slashes are in reading and catching a breath while speaking

laughs

Yes! My plan is working. Although the talk on eating disorders today was really creepy I'm still going to lose weight! My target's only 48kg so no need to worry. Since I'm short that's a very good weight to stick with. Happy Youth Day everyone! The celebrations were great but unfortunately it was also the institution's health day...

I'm still dreaming of hot cocoa and ice-cream. Butterscotch naturally. I'm starting to like Atonement by Ian McEwan. Briony's writing plight is so alike mine although I'll never convince myself that I can write a hundred and thirty pages with an early twentieth century typewriter in one week. Careful though, gruesome medical scenes described although I still hold Jennifer Donnelly as the most gruesome in terms of wounds and going into labour.

Let me try and see what I can come up with in the next three hours for a mural design. To potray Culture and Community in my institution. 10 symbols of relatively reasonable scale by tomorrow 1 p.m. Help! I've only done 10%....

laugh.

Loving the things (not) in life

Raspberries, blackberries, a night's cape adorned with stars and a full moon and a snuggled up nest of blankets and tasseled pillows is my idea of perfectness for tonight. Only the night would be twice as long, allowing me to enjoy 8 hours more of thinking under the canopy of stars. Add in a conversation with C.S Lewis and that would make it completely wonderful. Not to mention hot chocolate. What a glutton I am, every world of happiness includes chocolate.

Alas, reality is math, listing the negative impacts of volcanoes and squeezing in time to blog for 20 minutes or so before I officially start. Tomorrow my running campaign for losing a pitiful 5kg will begin again. Then I can decide to plan my retreat into the decadent luxuries of comfort food and splurge on notebooks I'll probably never complete using. A girl can dream for the "teenage induced" years of her life.

Yay for me, I have drawn the x and y axis for my first graph. Read an email. Plotted the first dot. Instant messaged people. Drew the linear line. Finished first graph question. Second graph drawn, in the process of answering questions... Checked the work list to be done by Thursday. Finished graph two. Toilet break for being such a great person.

I'll write later, have to finish geography volcanoes. Groan.... so many negative impacts.

Butterscotch Ice-cream

Quel Dommange, I gained back all the weight I lost in 5 days during the weekend. One of the causes, butterscotch ice-cream with raspberries and two Oreo cookies at some ice-creamery. They mash it all up and serve it to you. My word, I miss indulging with all those sweet desserts and mashed potatoes. I love eating and nearly live-to-eat on some days. Problem is the health regulations here don't accept my weight although I would be deemed entirely healthy in a Western country.

I think I better stop desserting my weight back on, but who can resist? Have you ever wanted to order the biggest ice-cream or dessert on the menu or eat whatever you want whenever and wherever? Those fantasies are overruling my common sense but thankfully there isn't even a can of coke in the fridge.

Better go, work pile for hostile and peaceful contacts between countries.

To the Lord, a letter

Dear Lord,

Thanks for everything in my life. I pray that you'll help me now, I'm really confused. What is the divide between Methodists and the Catholics and all the rest? Why can't we embrace the same things like rosaries and pilgrimages? You know I'm a Methodist in a catholic school, am I allowed to use the rosary for my own meditation? I still have the pale pink rosary from primary school bought at age seven or eight and kept in my room since then.

59 pale pink beads with a middle section bearing the words Jubilaeum and A.D 2000 with symbols, then the crucifix. You knew I was going to buy it but why. My literature teacher sending me an sms to join mass on Friday morning. My history teacher sharing with us her experience at 12 years old at Lourdes in France. They keep turning unresolved in my head today, on Sunday during daylight hours. Now I think of myself in those cathedrals in France again. Within Notre Dame's stone walls with the religious Catholic culture all around. The lighting of the candles and the stall selling rosaries and religious items.

I was maintaining silence then, at 10 years old, trusting myself and you completely that I was in the right place. No contradicting beliefs or churches in my way down the inner dimmed light of Notre Dame. I bought a cross pendant, a plain metal one at the cathedral upon the hill on the other side of the river and watched as the metal peeled off the surface back in my homeland.

I saw Notre Dame again this June, only I was outside looking in. I spent only a few minutes savouring its frontal Gothic design and the next hours till four painting its back view with my art class. We did not enter the place said to hold your crown of thorns and a piece of the actual cross you carried. Now, on the second last day of June, I have no idea what is the difference.

Lord, can I speak or whisper a prayer to you and Mary with my pale pink rosary or must I pray with my hands clasped as I have done my whole life given to me by you. You gave me and are continuing to give me a blessed life. A stable environment, accountable friends and sisters in Christ. A rosary aged eight years old on my table. Family. Your son who died on the cross of pain. A guiding light following me and who inclined me out of no other reason than to glorify your name in praise. Yet I can't really consecrate my whole life to you, I don't know if I will know when I really allow you to take full control. i stand in the Catholic place of prayer and worship in my school and offer the sign of peace as a handshake while my friends embrace each other. I see the metal rosaries hanging in the corner and I don't know what they mean. The net can only tell me so much.

Today I saw a pendant with the crucifix. It was small and something I think I was looking for. I tried to buy it with the coins left over from today's offering, I only had ten cents more than required. The cashier wouldn't accept the 5 cent coins I had. My mom offered to pay and I just told her I decided against it. She did buy it but when she asked me what I was going to do with it I said it was for me. She said but are we supposed to wear it. I said that's why I said I decided against it. My mother is Methodist, my father is Methodist. All three of us not technically born into a family where both parents were Christians. At least in my case.

Tomorrow I will go for the morning prayer, as a Methodist, and bring my pale pink rosary. I'll ask my Catholic sister in Christ what is the meaning of the rosary. If possible I'll ask my literature teacher if Methodists can use the rosary. If it doesn't work tomorrow I'll try again the day after and the day after that. I'm scared to ask my Methodist church community. This is the first time the marks of my church and school have hurt. Was it stated that the better option was for me to go to the Methodist school instead. Then why am I here. I dare not tell anyone from my church except you, the head of Christianity in all its forms.

I'll pray tonight as my heart is praying now in this message. Only the web world won't have access to that prayer. Just me and you with you knowing everything yet wanting me to tell you everything and with me knowing you are there. My eyes feel a little wet again.

Praise the Lord God, Creator of Heaven and Earth.

Amen.