how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
oh i miss my md already.
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
also thought rather paranoidly(??) bout some stuff.
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
how did it come to this?
my life is one sick routine i'd like to get out of.
anyways my photo album's not so empty anymore. added the class play pics down. itz there now, slotted snugly amongst other earlier posted ones. oh and yeah, added a few chalet pics i just got hold of.
thatz all folks.
xxx
Cold Cold Heart
Norah Jones
I've tried so hard my dear to show
That you're my every dream
Yet you're afraid each thing I do
Is just some evil scheme
A memory from your lonesome past
Keeps us so far apart
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold cold heart
Another love before my time
Made your heart sad an' blue
And so my heart is paying now
For things I didn't do
In anger unkind words are said
That make the teardrops start
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold cold heart
There was a time when I believed
That you belonged to me
But now I know your heart is shackled
To a memory
The more I learn to care for you
The more we drift apart
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold cold heart
just finished watching S1M0N3. it the kinda show that..leaves you hanging on..i dunno what.
anyways, the show's about this filmaker who's obsessed with the old way - actors at his every beck and call. and so poof! this mad scientist so conveniently leaves him "simulation one", a program designed specially to mimic humans. viktor's(the filmaker) dream come true becomes his ultimate nightmare.
it so turns out that everybody is so completely taken by s1m0n3, that, they refuse to believe him when he finally decides a life of fraud doesn't suit him and comes clean. he even gets arrested - for the murder of one celebrity that doesn't exist. thank god for his tech-savvy daughter, who 'resurrects' simone from the 'plague' a virus he planted to 'kill' her.
so the show ends with one happy family continuing their fake lives with simone. winona ryder is briiiiiilliant with her role as a diva...dig her hair.
anyways, the hanging part came from the ending. i mean, halfway through the show, and i was thinking this sorta movies always had a moral, that the ending would be about how this viktor guy realises...something....or something like that. you know, the kind that teaches you that lying is bad, or that living one is harmful, or whatever. just...anything but this ending. i mean, that ending don't even look like itz one. instead, you get a big question mark at the end of the show.
how's that for educating the masses huh?
been having really pathetic days. yesterday was spent staring at the com. did a lil bit of studying, but frankly it wasn't much. read too, if you consider trying not to finish my book reading. argh, it sounds unintelligible. anyways, same for today, after being woken up by the incessant loud, monotonous praying my next door neighbor has been doing since god knows when. which disrupted me of my dream of 2 certain singers. double argh. i've got one helluva ps2 collecting dust. man, life is reeeali reaaali slow right now. maybe...one kind soul would appear and get me a memory card. or lend me. or sell me. it doesn't even matter if itz a ps card....
see im really desperate. tempt not a desperate man.
wonder if itz just me, thought i heard pianos crashing down slightly earlier. or something big.
guess itz just me in a daze.
one thing i've realised - i can't really put my thoughts into words.
to the person who'll get a chance at a glimpse into my mind, it'll all be nonsense to him. thoughts flying all over, without any sense or order whatsoever. it just so happens that at times a lost thought gets flung out to the surface. that's when(and only when) i'll get a chance to grab it, and digest it. to try and write it down in words is, near impossible. itz like what i think of is written in code, understood by me and only me and not meant for anybody else to. or that itz darn good at struggling, and before i get a firm hold of it, it flies off, leaving me in a film of dust and soot.
ok im starting to babble now.
that's just me and holidays. especially unplanned ones.
The Case Of Mary Bell
The murder of one child by another always evokes a special reaction, disbelief almost over-riding the instinctive horror. How could a child commit such a crime? Fore the answer, no matter how the experts and psychiatrists try to wrap it up, it is normally unnecessary to look farther than the child's home. That is how it was with Mary Bell, a classic case.
On Saturday, May 25, 1968, the eve of her eleventh birthday, she strangled four-year-old Martin George Brown, a neighbor's child. On Wednesday, July 31, of the same year she strangled three-year-old Brian Howe, the son of another neighbor.
Both crimes were committed in Scotswood, a depressed area of Newcastle upon-Tyne, in Northumberland. It is only natural to ask: Surely, if a child is so emotionally disturbed that it is going to commit murder, there must be some warning signs?The dark forces at work in her mind first showed themselves on Saturday, May 11 - exactly a fortnight before she put childhood behind her and became a killer. Early in the afternoon, police and an ambulance were called to the Delaval Arms, a Scotswood pub, after John G. - a three-year-old cousin of Mary's - had been found injured close to some nearby sheds.
The following day police took statements from the two girls who had found the injured child, Mary and her next-door neighbor and friend, Norma Joyce Bell, aged 13 and, although they bore the same surname, no relation.
Both girls told the same untrue story - after hearing shouting they had gone to investigate and found John G. lying on the concrete path and bleeding from the head. Norma Bell ended her statement with the words: "I have never seen John G. playing down there before, and I have never taken him down there." Mary concluded her statement: "I don't know how John got down behind the sheds, I have never taken him to play there before."
That was not the only encounter the two girls had with the police on what, with hindsight, was a significant weekend. On that same Sunday night a Mrs. Watson complained to the police that, at a local sandpit around tea time, on of the two girls - either Norma or Mary - had started to strangle her daughter, Pauline, aged seven, and two of her friends, Cindy Hepple, six, and Susan Cornish, six.
Once again the police took statements. Said Norma: "Mary put both hands round the girl's [Cindy's] throat and squeezed. The girl started to go purple. I told Mary to stop, but she wouldn't. She did this for a while and then she put her hands round Pauline's throat and she started to go purple as well. Both Pauline and the other girl were crying.
"Another girl, Susan Cornish, came up and Mary did the same to her. Susan had some rock [sweet rock] and Mary took this off her. I said to Mary, 'There's be trouble,' and then Mary asked me if I wanted some rock. I said 'Yes,' and had a piece from her. I then ran off and left Mary, I am not friends with her now."
Mary's statement differed fundamentally from her friend's account of what had happened. It mad no mention of touching the three girls. It said: "...I went behind the shed to play. When I was behind the shed I heard Pauline scream. I came up from behind the shed and saw Pauline running away towards the fence. She was holding her throat and screaming. I asked Norma what happened and she said that Pauline had fallen and hurt her throat on the edge of the sandpit..."
After considering the statements and further inquiries, the police decided to take no action beyond informing the Children's Department, and "warning the two girls as to their future conduct".
Martin Brown - a sturdy little boy with fair hair and a mischievous face - was the next victim. Three children, looking for scrapwood to build a dovecote, found him dead in a derelict house shortly after 3:30 p.m. on Saturday, May 25. Only a few minutes earlier he had bought a candy in a nearby shop. Now he lay in what had been a back bedroom with blood and saliva dribbling from his mouth.
Apart from some workmen, summoned by the children who had found Martin, Mary and Norma were the first people on the scene, and it was they who carried the news of the child's death to his aunt, Mrs. Rita Finlay, who lived a few doors away on the other side of the street. "I think it's your June's bairn [child] and there's blood all over," said Mary.
Police could find no sign of a stuggle or a fall. Dr. Bernard Knight, the pathologist who carried out an autopsy that evening found it impossible to determine the cause of the boy's death. The only abnormality he could discover was a minor brain hemorrhage. He dismissed the possibility of strangulation because he could find no pressure marks.
At the end of several days of inquiries, the uniformed police accepted that Martin's death had been an accident. The matter was not passed to the Criminal Investigation Department. Meanwhile, Mary and Norma were subjecting Mrs. Finlay to a form of emotional torture. "They came every day," she recalled later, "and they kept asking me, 'Do you miss Martin?' and 'Do you cry for him?' and 'Does June miss him?' In the end I could stand it no more, I told them to get out and not come back."
But that persecution was far from the only warning sign. On Sunday, May 26, her eleventh birthday, Mary tried to strangle her friend Norma's 11- year-old sister, Susan. Susan's parents heard her scream and, when they dashed out of the house, saw Mary with both hands around Susan's neck.
"I chopped Mary's hands away and gave her a clip on the shoulder," Mr. Bell remembers. "She said, 'I'm going to tell my dad.' I said 'You do that,' but I never heard any more about it."
The next morning, the Monday, teachers arriving at the nearby Day Nursery found it had been broken into during the weekend. Entry had been obtained by taking slates off the roof. Chalk, school books ad cleaning materials had been scattered everywhere. Police also found four notes in childish writing among the debris. They said:
so THAT
I may come
back
2)BAS...
we murder
watch out
Fanny
and Faggot
3)WE did
murder
Martain
brown...
you Bastard
4)You are micey [stupid]
Becurse
we murdered
Martain Go
Brown you Bete
Look out THErE
are Murders about
By FANNYAND
and auld Faggot
you Screws
The police decided the notes were just a sick prank. But, as a precaution against further break-in's, it was decided to install a burglar alarm in the nursery school loft.
Two days later, Mary turned her attention from Mrs. Finlay to her sister, Mrs. June Brown, mother of the dead Martin. "She knocked at the door and asked to see Martin," says Mrs. Brown. "I said, 'No, pet, Martin is dead.' She said, ' know he's dead. I wanted to see him in his coffin.' She was grinning. I was speechless and just slammed the door on her."
On the Friday of that week the newly installed school burglar alarm started to ring in the police station. Two constables were on the scene within minutes. They discovered two girls who had broken into the school my removing slates from the roof. The girls were Mary and Norma Bell. Both denied ever having done such a thing before. Eventually they were charged with breaking and entering, and released into their parents' custody until their case could be heard - some months later - by the Juvenile Court.
A few weeks later, towards the end of July, Mary brought up the death of Martin Brown again when she was visiting another family of the neighbors, the Howes. "I know something about Norma that will get her put away," she suddenly announced. They asked her what. "Norma put her hands on a boy's throat," she said. "It was Martin Brown. She pressed and he just dropped." Later that same day Mary called on Norma's mother and apologized for what she had said.
Brian Howe, three-year-old son of the family she had told about Norma, was to be Mary's next victim. His sister Pat, who looked after the family because the mother had left home, missed him during the afternoon of Wednesday, July 31. Two of the children who helped her to search for him were Mary and Norma Bell.
One of the favorite playgrounds of Scotswood children was the "Tin Lizzie", a stretch of waste ground littered with concrete blocks, oil drums, old building materials and metal tanks. "He might be playing behind the blocks," Mary suggested to Pat. "Oh no, he never goes there," said Norma.
But that was where the police found him, dead, soon after eleven o'clock that night. His body covered with long grass and purple-flowering weeds, lay between two of the concrete blocks. Bloodstained froth covered his blue lips. There were scratches on his nose, and scratches and pressure marks on both sides of his neck. Beside him lay a pair of scissors with one broken blade and the other bent back. What looked like a letter N, subsequently turned into an M, had been scratched on his stomach.
Detective-Chief-Inspector James Dobson of the C.I.D. reached the scene at 1:10 a.m. and parked his car just across the road from the house where Martin Brown had been found. "As I walked down to the 'Tin Lizzie' I suddenly thought of Martin Brown," he recalls. "There wasn't any reason. I'd had nothing to do with that case. But it ran through my mind that there must be a connection somewhere."
Medical opinion - based on the small degree of violence used and the playful rather than vicious nature of the marks on Brian's stomach - pointed to a child killer. Next morning a hundred C.I.D. officers moved in on Scotswood. Within 24 hours 1200 mimeographed question-nares had been distributed to homes with young children. Among them were the homes of Mary and Norma Bell.
Mary and Norma admitted having spent much of the Wednesday together, yet their statements did not tally. Twice they changed them. Mary had also tried to implicate an eight-year-old local boy. She had seen him hit Brian for no reason at all, she said. She had also seen him playing with a pair of silver-colored scissors which had something wrong with them, "like one leg was either broken or bent". At the time nothing about the scissors found near the boy's body had been published in the newspapers.
"By the night of August 2 we had pretty well eliminated everybody except Mary and Norma bell," says the Chief-Inspector. "It had to be them or one of them." On August 4 a Detective-Constable Thompson called on Norma to try to clarify some inconsistencies in her account of her movements. Suddenly she began to cry and asked: "Can I talk to you with out my dad being here?" Then, when her father had left she blurted out: "I was down Delaval Road with Mary and her dog. Mary took me to see Brian."
Chief-Inspector Dobson saw Norma for the first time that night in her father's presence. After cautioning her, he said "I understand that you have something you want to tell me about the death of Brian Howe."
"I went with Mary Bell down to the blocks the day that Brian was lost," she stated. "I tripped over something. I looked down and saw it was Brian's head. He was covered with grass, but I could see all his face. He was dead. Mary said: 'I squeezed his neck and pushed up his lungs. That's how you kill them. Keep your nose dry and don't tell anybody.'
"Brian's lips were purple. Mary ran her fingers along his lips. She said she had enjoyed it. Mary showed me a razor and said she had cut his belly. She pulled his jersey up and showed me the tiny cut on his belly. She hid the razor under a block and told me not to tell my dad or she would get into trouble."Taken to the "Tin Lizzie" by police car, Norma produced a razor blade from under the block. Back at police headquarters she made a formal statement, and at 12:15 a.m., Mary Bell was got out of bed and brought for questioning. She denied everything. "I had her there for three hours," said the Chief-Inspector, "and she just stuck to her story - she didn't know a thing."
Mary was still at liberty on August 7 when Brian was buried. "I watch her as she stood in front of the Howes' house while the coffin was brought out," the Chief-Inspector went on. "That was when I knew I couldn't risk another day. She stood there laughing, laughing and rubbing her hands. I thought, My God, I've got to bring her in or she'll do another one."
The Chief-Inspector sent a policewoman for Mary at 4:30 that after noon. "She arrived pale and tense and very apprehensive," he said. "She gave me the impression that she knew the time of reckoning had come." Now she suddenly agreed to make a statement which turned out to be reverse of Norma's.
It was Norma, she said, who had killed the boy. "She started to feel up and down his neck. She squeezed it hard, you could tell it was hard because her fingertips were going white. Brian was struggling, and I was pulling her shoulders, but she went mad...His face was all white and bluey, and his eyes were open...Norma covered him and I said, 'Norma, I've got nothing to do with this. I should tell on you but I'll not.'"
A nursing sister, sent for to be present while the statement was made, said afterwards that what had struck her was Mary's callousness. "She felt nothing. She said all those awful things they had done, but she didn't feel a thing."
The trial of the two girls for the murders of Martin Brown and Brian Howe began at Newcastle Assizes on December 5, 1968, and lasted nine days. The nationwide atmosphere of repugnance which the case aroused was captured on the second day of the trial when the judge, Mr. Justice Cusack, commented on the distress of the five women jurors when asked to look at photographs of the murdered boys.
"I have every sympathy with you," he said. "This is not an agreeable case for anybody. But I want to say to you, and I hope you will spymathaize with me, that this case is a case in which the assistance of women jurors is of very great importance. Of course, women nowadays take the place of men and have the same duties to perform as citizens, but if there is any lady on the juror who feels so ill as to be unable to discharge her duty and follow the evidence, I shall reconsider the position."
That repugnance was also demonstrated by the small amount of space devoted to the trial in the newspapers, and by the action of one British Sunday newspaper, not normally noted for squeamishness, in turning down flat on offer from Mary's parents - reunited for the trial- to tell "The True Story of Mary Bell".
Perhaps the most critical aspects of the trial were the impression the two girls created in court, and the psychiatric evidence. Both stuck to their story that the other was the killer. But Norma, frequently in distress, came across as truthful; Mary, quick-witted and very much in command of herself, well able to dominate the older girl.
There was expert evidence that Mary suffered from a psychopathic personality. Dr. Robert Orton, who had seen her twice, defined some of the symptoms as a lack of feeling; a liability to act on impulse; aggression; lack of remorse, and an inability to profit by or use experience - which includes the lack of response to punishment.
The jury cleared Norma but, on the grounds of diminished responsibility, found Mary guilty not of the murder of the two boys but of their manslaughter. The judge sentenced her to detention for life in a suitable institution. The sentence meant that her case would be regularly reviewed, and if psychiatrists were satisfied that she had been cured of her psychopathic condition, she could be returned to the normal world. She was released in 1980, aged 23.
so school has been closed down.
kinda still deciding if its good or bad. this week has been such a transition period(from the fun-and-sun to books-and-dust phase) and to be disrupted, well, it aint good. feeling kinda lost too. to think i've been praying for such a thing to happen.
jieying had her birthday yesterday. normally don't go out so much with them, me being the only non ex 2/4 member but it was good yesterday. sorta celebrated with her at pizza hut. ate ourselves bust and bitched a whole lot. gossiping is fun, if one doesn't ever have to think of the consequences.
today was birthday day. among us were jac, carin, serene, yueyun...yeah that's about it. pretty much for a day isn't it? anyways came to school finding out that we were to go to erin's house after school( coz of the cake). a lil' disappointed that jieying and co couldnt come, but.....oh well. celebrated(sorta) jac's bdae with her at erin's. so the whole bunch of us were picking at our plates of fried rice(most of us still had the phobia of it after fatz mom that "fateful" christmas morning), and i was thinking: what's the deal with a friend's house and fried rice? guess its simple and nice huh?
then came the cake. small, but nice anyhow. we watched the class play vid repeatedly and laughed over silly mistakes.
it was a good day.
it is a good day and i shall not spoil it by speaking my mind.
Based on the Pulitzer-prize winning novel by Michael Cunningham, THE HOURS employs Virginia Woolf's classic novel and central character, MRS. DALLOWAY, as its foundation and inspiration. Spanning three different eras, during one day, the film focuses on the parallel lives of three women joined in their depression, alienation, and search for love. Nicole Kidman, wearing a prosthetic nose, is virtually unrecognizable as the tortured writer Virginia Woolf whose ongoing battle with mental illness eventually led to her tragic suicide in 1941. The film begins with the moment of her suicide and flashes back on her life and work as she crafted her most memorable character, Clarissa Dalloway, in 1923. In 1950's California suburbia another woman, Laura Brown (Julianne Moore), struggles with alienation and depression. Trapped by her clinging young son and an adoring husband whom she does not love, the desperate woman tries to prepare for her husband's birthday but cannot stop reading MRS. DALLOWAY. Finally, in modern day Manhattan, Clarissa Vaughn (Meryl Streep), a lesbian who lives with her lover (Allison Janney) and her daughter (Claire Danes), struggles to prepare a party for her ex-husband (Ed Harris) who is dying of AIDS. Director Stephen Daltry uses beautiful overlapping editing to sew the women's interwoven stories seamlessly together. At the core of this profoundly moving film is the trio of award-winning actresses who grace the screen with their bold and awe-inspiring performances.
Gray:
You poor, depressed child. A rain cloud seems to
follow you everywhere. The worst has always got
to happen doesn't it? Life is miserable.
What color do you see the world in?
brought to you by Quizilla
Your creativty and craftsmenship doesn't come from
nowhere. You used to be an artisan in your past
life, painting murals, sculpting statues, and
crafting wood for more noble people.
Who were you in your past life?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are Mary Bell. At the ripe old age of 10 you
strangled a neighbor boy, afterwhich you carved
your initals into his skin. At his funreal you
laughed. Your next victim was a 3 year old. You
pushed him off the roof, resulting in a broken
skull. After he was found you went to his
mothers house and asked to see him, she replied
tha t he was dead. You smiled brightly and said
'Oh, I know he's dead. I wanted to see him in
his coffin."
You horrid little girl you.
-smacks your hand-
Which Imfamous criminal are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Psycho. You are overwhelmed by anger. You may even
hate the world and everything in it and you
believe revenge is the way of the world. An eye
for an eye.
How Emotional Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
so the war has started.
(k i know im abit slow but...)
bush's ultimatum has been rejected, and being the natural egotist he strikes back with missles aiming straight at the innocents at baghdad.
sadam hussein should just rot and go off somewhere. ego?
may bush should rot too.
fight for terroism? struggle for control over global oil market? a show of power?
whatever happened to the days when everybody was promoting peace and love?
tiredz.
friday was a super long day. realised i ate and ate and ate and ate the whole day through. went for red cross early in the morning after a night of hearing things(construction work in the middle of the night?!) guess im going crazy. ambled through red cross, then had to go for maths makeup lesson. we were airconed, so it wasnt that bad. went to orchard after that(it was kinda the last day of the hols, for us miserable first-aiders, and besides i had to get my sweater). walked till my toes hurt, and finaaaaaally found a sweater that wasnt baby pink, or baby blue...or any color babyish. it was red and oozing with a kind of confidence i oh so like.
anyways it was planned that we meet ning and a few others at 9.15 for prata at thompson, but we got there at bout 10.15? haha. so much for punctuality. ate a whole load of prata and everybody was bloated and tired by the end of it all. and it so happens that erin's father was gonna fetch her, and that mi and ning were not so ready to go home yet, so we hopped on with erin. accompanied her father to chomp chomp's, and ate more. was introduced to something they call 'kok kok'(some kinda shellfish), and it was rather good, in a chewy sense. decided to go singing, just for the hell of it. picked edwin up and we went to chinatown and sang till wee hours of the dawn.
more red cross today. cheryl keeps pickin on me, and i just about pulled her hair off. i mean, what do you expect from someone who slept at 5 and hears strange noises?!?! went to compass pt for yabbe's. didnt tink much of it, the lasagne was kinda soggy and too saucy, and my mom can do better. went to the library and fufiled myself by borrowing 3 books i kinda have been wanting to read for some time.
just got back from pool playing with jo, ed and mingtiong. waited for like, 2 hrs for a table (yes, the place is that booked), but it was well worth the wait...i guess. at least now my balls mooove. haha. and i won jo once too! haha. had a loooong bus ride home alone aft that.
wow my com is so slow now i bet if i ran home and back twice i wouldnt miss a thing.
marie's still down under, hopes she has a greeeat time for all of us here.
kinda missin her a little. i know i probably wont see her anyway during the hols, being in different banded classes for maths and all...but knowing that she's abroad kinda makes it different.
my blog's so silent i feel like im encompassed in a padded room of deafening silence. pleaaaase pleease comment?
in case nobody knows....itz the yellow link at the bottom of my every entry. just write crap, if you wish. i just wanna know im not alone...heh
Do I Have To Cry For You
Nick Carter
Don’t wanna close the door
Don’t wanna give up on it
Don’t wanna fight no more
We’ll find a way around it
Where’s the love we had
We can make it last
Tell me what I gotta be
And tell me what you wanna do
‘Cause I can’t live my life
The way you want me to
You know I can’t go on
Livin’ like we do
Do I have to cry for you
Do I have to cry for you
So tell me what it’s for
If there’s no winner in it
Nobody’s keepin’ score
Let’s start from the beginning
Can we make it last, oh
With the love we had
Tell me what I gotta be
And tell me what you wanna do
‘Cause I can’t live my life
The way you want me to
You know you can’t go on livin’ like we do
Do I have to cry for you
Do I have to cry for you
Do I gotta stand in the cold dark night
Till the mornin’ light, yeah
Do I have to stay
I won’t let you get away
What have I gotta be
Tell me what you wanna do
I can’t live my life
The way you want me to
You know I can’t go on
Livin’ like we do
Do I have to cry for you, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah...
Oh, girl
You know I can’t go on livin’ like we do
Do I have to cry for you
Do I have to cry for you
back home after a long night out. stayed over at fatz. kinda guilty now cause we caused two of her house's toilet doors to lock. unfortch for us, they aint got no key. bad baad me. i know i probably had nothing to do with it, and that things could have been much more worse(like choking up the toilet bowl and somewhere along that line), but, when things like that happen and you stay around long enough to see the expression on the face of..it just, becomes so much worse. not to mention how your mood will fluctuate. mostly itz just guilt, for what i guess we'll never comprehend.
had time to think bout stuff on the long bus ride home from junction 8(yes, more karaoke singing). guess one of the things i thought about..was the fact that i cannot seem to get along with one person for long. it seems one's personal faults are amplified the longer that you are with. or that my patience with that person would be so reduced(not to say i have a lotta patience in the first place..) at least for me it is. i kinda know this is just me...and that worries me, to some kinda extent. i cannot imagine how it will be like in the future..
i think i'm not a very interesting person.
the world is just so sad.
so damn bored
friday saw alotta sad people on her way to saturday.
saturday received even more sadness on her way to sunday.
sunday's just...mellowing.
saturday was nkf funding day. the day did not start off as well as i would like it, and it left me feeling like i was just a heap of discarded clothes or something. went to wilson's house and played the ps2. was my first go at the lrt, and frankly it feels like im riding a cable car. came back and returned our miserably thin money bags, and met up with marie. went to my house afterwards. at some point of time i realised wilson and andy behind me, and i was...just surprised i guess. a 'lil too surprised - i must have shown that poorly-but i seriously don't really mind them. after all, the more the merrier huh? after the initial shock i guess everything's well. but apparently i didn't show my surprise that well, as i have said, and i berate myself badly for that. xiaoying told us she wasn't coming at that last moment, and wilson and andy went off with her. maybe it's because of xy that they left, maybe it wasn't(i mean, what was i to think? they huddling in a corner while i sat somewhere else didnt look too convincing to me), and the other option didnt leave me feeling good. so..
anyways today's a pretty non-happening day. read for almost the whole day. oh, and am extremely excited now coz my mom's bought the ps2!!! hell yeah baby!
watched daredevil just now. it was a good enough show, for a mindless afternoon of fun i guess. jennifer garner kicks ass in this. it's always different, watching guys and gals save the day. somehow. always a wee bit more exciting to see the female save the day instead of the male.
one thing i dont understand though - what's it with heros and leather? now i've seen movies where heros, wearing an armor of it's-so-tight-i-can-hardly-breathe leather, prowling streets at night, getting seduced by skimpily clad maidens and somehow always managing to save the day by kicking the shit outta huge but dumb looking criminals one too many times(think batman, and so so many of the action films that so dominate our big screens today) but daredevil is seriously by far the most er, clichetic(argh, i know, no such word..but, you know what i mean). maybe even worse. i mean, it's bad enough we have a leather clad lawyer who cant differentiate right from wrong(so much for super senses), but do all of them have to wear leather?
and besides, the reason many hormonely unbalanced teens go watch this movie(eyecandy, they say) comes out for like, 2 seconds, sleeps with her hero, and dies. tragic life man, simply tragic.
but seriously, i enjoyed the show. it was kinda good, im just feeling critical today.
the class play was a success today. think our play is by-far the best. oh man, , i think my head is getting too big for my head. seen quite a lotta people's response towards our play, and it looks good. not to say the rest weren't good...just.. anyways heard comments bout our play that were wonderfully pleasing, and serves to increase the weight of my head on mi shoulders. also heard from jess that some of the teachers were praising the script - that it was wonderfully weaven and well written and stuff...and can't help feeling high. makes mi think of us rushing to get the script out the entire night.. all's well that ends well eh? and to think we were all sooo friggin worried just before...
few names deserve special mention:
xingwen - looking super shuai today~!!!!!!! =D~~~ *drools*
xinyin - one person that has done more than her fair share of work
jieying, marie, yeeleng - hey if it aint for u guys we wont have props~!
chileed - thanks for all the clothing u provided..hee
rachel, carin - surprisingly evil stepsisters you've become =P... thanks rach for the wonderful cape
shengyang - well..u came out for mi prologue in time...hahahaa...and u raised ur voice at juliet! super funny oso!!
not that the rest aint special...im just...not allowing my rapidly slowing brain to think anymore...everybody ruled this afternoon.
jieying seemed a little upset today... wonder if itz got something to do with home...or..
she seemed a little er..wrong this morning...but refrained from asking her for fear of further aggrievation(?)..
hey if ur readin this...cheer up!!
looks considerably short...compared to the 1st that i wrote...darn blogger for errors.
today went by painfully slow - literally. especially english class. lamented about how much i loathe nara. i mean, the things he does are...ok i guess, not really worthy of my loathing, but it's just something in him that makes me hate him to the core. his smart-ass attitude doesn't help much either. anyways... im sure almost half the class(the girls anyway) ached here and there today. darn mr low. he made us do silly leg lifts that caused alllll this pain. it was kinda amusing because all of us were like..hobbling everywhere we went. man, what a sight we were. today being tuesday makes it even harder to bear - today was walking day. to the geo room, to the physics lab, whatever. we moved places maths and eng lessons as usual. marie had this stomachache that worsened few periods before school was out. it was scary. hah. marie u better? anyways, such was the plight of my class today.
kinda pissed at siyun cause everytime i think of red cross...i'd think of her. i mean, the only reason im still going for red cross is because it'll put her in a tough spot if i don't. thing to say is, why cant she think the same for my house practices? it basically works the same way..yet nobody sees it. and if she makes the effort to drag hers and her class's asses down to the stadium, try and pretend to look like they're doin something can they? sitting around looking bored outta their minds obviously will attract attention from teacher...i mean duh? and then that fat rama would come and ask me to get them moving. so i'll have to ask them to do something. which results in them giving me the face, which i oh so hate.
but i digress. we were talking about my day. went for the singing competition after school at the ava room. being a judge sure ain't easy. being a competitor isnt either. man, if i had to compete with similarly bad sounding people i'd go insane in an instant. trying to give points to bad sounding instant is bad too.
so that was my day. hope qing's was good too. =x wad?! it's his birthday...
gonez with the wind
xxx
i feel we all obnoxious people are just finding a quality that everybody cant stand to hide what we really are and feel.
so it's another one of those days again. man i hate being stood up.
why can't she just fuckin call?
am getting photos from marie now. which reminds me of my pathetically made up site. and the photos jessica's supposed to give me. oh well.
so tis week's been pretty busty. erh..busy. hah. been staying back almost everyday for the whole play thing. hopefully we'll win *fingers crossed*. have been figuring out how to work the whole flamingtext.com thing to my advantage on the sidelines. hot days make one annoyed dap, which i have been. i know i aint pretty tis coupla days, but with the heat from the weather and from mi classmates, who won't blow?
heard some things over the course of this week, which i didn't really pay much attention to, however interesting. guess my mind's not been with me but on the play these few days. so i guess i'll keep my ears peeled and hopefully i'll get those news round my ears again.
had chinese oral today. the invigilator was my previous chinese teacher, whom i so like, so this whole thing wasn't that bad, though i sucked. well kinda. now here's the part where i pray and plead silently for my teacher to give it to me more leniently.
my dog's been better these days. probably after professional medical help. she's been drowsy though. think itz all the pills the doc's been giving her. please let her return to her old self soon.
have not seen huimin since the day at the o's. been kinda disapointed with her cause, well she's been...not around? i dont know, you tell me. guess itz her job and my schooling. anyways, we agreed to drift around town later today, so kinda lookin forward to it. hopefully(again), it wont turn out to be another say-no-do thing. just like last saturday. and one of the days the week before.
my md's still spoilt. gonna bring it to the shop soon. maybe later?
i'm officially frustrated with my computer. the internet connection's lousy, the com's full, the com's slow, and i can't seem to do anything about it. besides, i'm totally lost in the world of web making.
i'm also officially dreading english lessons. and pe. strange to say, i'm looking forward to maths. last social studies lesson, we did group work. which reminds me of the times when we(me, ning, felicia, jy, yeeleng, and the occasional rachel) used to have so much fun doing crap. the whole banding thing is now causing us not to have as much group work as we used to. group work with jess and co is, well, different. anyway.
kinda worried bout the play, cause i can't seem to coordinate my chorus with the music. which is big. and i can't seem to remember also that i'm supposed to tell the guys they're supposed to do a small skit while i'm reading mine. argh. remember remember REMEMBER!
have not been reading much these days. want to go to the library, but haven't found the time, nor the companion to accompany me. am i really that sad?
getting sick of red cross. and house practice matters. 4/1 sucks, simply because they don't wanna participate. not just dun wanna run kinda participate, but i-dont-want-to-come-and-that's-whoever's-problem kinda non participation. and they never ever thought the kind of situation they put me into.
i AM gonna get a full page of words in my blog today. i am i am i am i am i AM.
argh
i can't.
at least not yet
Your Heart is Orange
What Color is Your Heart?
brought to you by Quizilla
have not been feeling up to relating my day. seems to have been like that, for some time now. guess it was the late days at school, rehearsing for our play. glad to say our class seems to have gotten out of their reluctance to act, or at least, is in the process of gettin out off. who would have thought a couple of days before nobody wanted a part of this whole thing?
anyways, school's been the usual these few days. heard...argh..dont feel like writing after all.
want-to-read book of the day: somersaults and pirouettes: and other unstories by geraldine kan
oh god the nights are hot and the days, worse.
argh..super tired now...shall drag my heavy ass to bed now.
Sympathy
Goo Goo Dolls
Stranger than your sympathy
And this is my apology
I killed myself from the inside out
And all my fears have pushed you out
And I wished for things that I don't need
(All I wanted)
And what I chased won't set me free
(All I wanted)
And I get scared but I'm not crawlin' on my knees
Oh, yeah
Everything's all wrong, yeah
Everything's all wrong, yeah
Where the hell did I think I was?
And stranger than your sympathy
Take these things, so I don't feel
I'm killing myself from the inside out
And now my head's been filled with doubt
We're taught to lead the life you choose
(All I wanted)
You know your love's run out on you
(All I wanted)
And you can't see when all your dreams aren't coming true
Oh, yeah
It's easy to forget, yeah
When you choke on the regrets, yeah
Who the hell did I think I was?
And stranger than your sympathy
And all these thoughts you stole from me
And I'm not sure where I belong
And no where's home and no more wrong
And I was in love with things I tried to make you believe I was
And I wouldn't be the one to kneel before the dreams I wanted
And all the dark and all the lies were all the empty things disguised as me
Mmm, yeah
Stranger than your sympathy
Stranger than your sympathy
Mmm hmmm mmm
i've been so caught up wit other people's lives it seems i dont have one anymore. i'm just drifting past faces masked in doubt, angst, anger, hate. it only serves to amplify my own mask of deceit - to myself, to whoever who cares to even see it.
oh give it back.
and i thought my world couldnt get any lower. and it seems i always say such things. first my dfficulty in mixing well with my peers, then the whole script thing. then it was my dog. now comes my md. then itz my dog again.
argh, take me away someplace where it doesnt suck.
so i guess im gonna use geocities after all. even though itz only a miserable 15mb(which i think will be enough...)
my angelfire account can be left to rot and die.
or maybe for something else?
argh..just realised the advantages of using geocities vs angelfire - it SO much easier.
damn my curséd soul
went for kaian's bdae yesterday. had seafood for dinner. met this one helluva irritating wannabe punk. anyways, the whole thing finished well, and we ended up talking to the wee hours of the night. didnt realli think some things were done right, but who cares?
newest face on tv:
steph song playing rachel on heartlanders, some violinist on concerto of a bus driver, and simone on the singpore short story project.
hmmz.
a talk-it-out session with ningzi usually gets me thinking - a lot - by the end of it all.
so i have.
thought about a lotta things that probably wont matter to anyone, but me i guess.
doesnt matter.
not that i usually talk bout stuff much to ningzi, or to anyone for that matter, but i kinda enjoyed it. crapped till late(bout 2?) at bishan's coffee bean, then went home, tired but content?
bad omens?
screeching crows
yowling cats.....
i do NOT like it
my dog fell. again. oh god im sick with worry.
