Feeling: Worried
Listening to: All That He Wants by Kill Hannah
I officially graduated on the 25th. I thought it was going to suck because my best friend wouldn't be there, and neither would my boyfriend. I didn't know what was going on, but there was music and dancing, and I don't think I danced. I mean, I did something, but it sure as hell can't be called dancing. That was the first part. The second part was different 'cause that's when Hamish was allowed to come and sit and wait for 2 hours and listen to speeches and watch people cry.
Watching all my schoolmates hug their friends and teachers between tears made me want to cry too 'cause I realized that I didn't have that kind of relationship with many people. I think I was supposed to feel sad about leaving the school and possibly never seeing these people again, but I didn't; I felt awkward and out-of-place. But maybe it's similar to how I deal with death, which all comes down to the fact that I don't know how to handle the concept of 'the end'.
And all he wants is a minute with her, to crash the ball and take her home; to break her heart and tear her clothes; to feel alive, young and terrified.
I made the new layout last night. There are mistakes that I only noticed after I'd done everything, so I hope you don't notice. :]
Days till I leave: 5
Friday 24 November 2006
Listening to: The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot by Brand New
I'll start off by saying my school, or last school, rather, is racist. I'm serious. The other day, I, along with Far, asked the administration office if we could have our forecast results, and the lady behind the desk said we'd have to write a letter beforehand to get them. Then, today, I went with Aaron, without a letter, and he asked the exact same question but in Chinse, and the lady gave it to us right away. Either I'm a bit paranoid, or the school is fucking racist.
With that said, my results are as I expected; ugly. :p And because I have no shame, and would like all of you to point and laugh at my stupidity, looky looky:
Malay: B
English: A
Mathematics: B
Additional Maths: D
Chemistry: C
Biology: B
Physics: D
Accounts: B
I have nothing to say in my defense. However, I've been wondering how me getting a 70% average for physics makes it a D. A D's not even an O. How do I get an O for chemistry and not for physics? It's a conspiracy against me. It has to be.
My actual results better be a grade higher than those predicted. 'Cause then, you know, I'd have a few A's and no D's, and thus, I'd be able to poke my tongue out at the teachers for predicting wrongly. HEEHEEHEE.
Days till I leave: 8
I'll start off by saying my school, or last school, rather, is racist. I'm serious. The other day, I, along with Far, asked the administration office if we could have our forecast results, and the lady behind the desk said we'd have to write a letter beforehand to get them. Then, today, I went with Aaron, without a letter, and he asked the exact same question but in Chinse, and the lady gave it to us right away. Either I'm a bit paranoid, or the school is fucking racist.
With that said, my results are as I expected; ugly. :p And because I have no shame, and would like all of you to point and laugh at my stupidity, looky looky:
Malay: B
English: A
Mathematics: B
Additional Maths: D
Chemistry: C
Biology: B
Physics: D
Accounts: B
I have nothing to say in my defense. However, I've been wondering how me getting a 70% average for physics makes it a D. A D's not even an O. How do I get an O for chemistry and not for physics? It's a conspiracy against me. It has to be.
My actual results better be a grade higher than those predicted. 'Cause then, you know, I'd have a few A's and no D's, and thus, I'd be able to poke my tongue out at the teachers for predicting wrongly. HEEHEEHEE.
Days till I leave: 8
Wednesday 22 November 2006
Feeling: Sick
Listening to: Prisoner Of Society by The Living End
I've been losing weight. I now weigh 46KG, which means I lost 3KG. Interesting, isn't it?
I stayed up until 4:26AM last night making the layout for Dented Hearts(I got the name from Cute Is What We Aim For's I Put The 'Metro' In Metronome; I don't break hearts, I just dent them), which is where I'll post all my original stories, 'cause since that whole career-doubting incident, I've been in need of reassurance, and I figured once I get back to writing again, everything'll be okay. Or not. Putting nothing aside, I've been writing bits of my To Be Heartless story, previously called Heartless. It's not finished yet, and frankly, I think I have a long way to go till I can say it's complete. Weee.
Everyone's in love with My Chemical Romance's Welcome To The Black Parade. So, here I am to give you my opinion. I'm in love with the intro, just not a fan of the verses; they remind me too much of Green Day, and if they remind me of another band, chances are they sound like another band, but, as things often are, it may just be me.
I have a problem. I'm flying to New Zealand by myself. But don't be silly, that's not the problem. The problem will come when I've arrived and I'm all alone waiting for my dad to come because as stated by the man himself, "don't be alarmed if I'm not there when you arrive." He may be running late. And I'm a moose, so I'm naturally afraid of these happenings, due to past experiences where I arrived and he wasn't there because he thought I was arriving the next day and now you see how terrified I am. Among other things, me leaving also means I'll be missing my piano recital. And the one time I actually wanted to go. Welfnslfknreg.
29th November marks the date MOTA will perform alongside other bands at D'Anggerek Hotel, and 1st December is when the Battle of the Bands at ISB will be held. Starting times will be 7:30PM and 7:00PM respectively.
Which is better - a not-so-good education with limited social outings over a short period of time, or a fucking awesome education with reasonable social outings over a long period of time? I'm in the middle of the debate, and nobody's listening.
Days till I leave: 10
Listening to: Prisoner Of Society by The Living End
I've been losing weight. I now weigh 46KG, which means I lost 3KG. Interesting, isn't it?
I stayed up until 4:26AM last night making the layout for Dented Hearts(I got the name from Cute Is What We Aim For's I Put The 'Metro' In Metronome; I don't break hearts, I just dent them), which is where I'll post all my original stories, 'cause since that whole career-doubting incident, I've been in need of reassurance, and I figured once I get back to writing again, everything'll be okay. Or not. Putting nothing aside, I've been writing bits of my To Be Heartless story, previously called Heartless. It's not finished yet, and frankly, I think I have a long way to go till I can say it's complete. Weee.
Everyone's in love with My Chemical Romance's Welcome To The Black Parade. So, here I am to give you my opinion. I'm in love with the intro, just not a fan of the verses; they remind me too much of Green Day, and if they remind me of another band, chances are they sound like another band, but, as things often are, it may just be me.
I have a problem. I'm flying to New Zealand by myself. But don't be silly, that's not the problem. The problem will come when I've arrived and I'm all alone waiting for my dad to come because as stated by the man himself, "don't be alarmed if I'm not there when you arrive." He may be running late. And I'm a moose, so I'm naturally afraid of these happenings, due to past experiences where I arrived and he wasn't there because he thought I was arriving the next day and now you see how terrified I am. Among other things, me leaving also means I'll be missing my piano recital. And the one time I actually wanted to go. Welfnslfknreg.
29th November marks the date MOTA will perform alongside other bands at D'Anggerek Hotel, and 1st December is when the Battle of the Bands at ISB will be held. Starting times will be 7:30PM and 7:00PM respectively.
Which is better - a not-so-good education with limited social outings over a short period of time, or a fucking awesome education with reasonable social outings over a long period of time? I'm in the middle of the debate, and nobody's listening.
Days till I leave: 10
Friday 17 November 2006
Feeling: Grr
Listening to: The Leaving Song by AFI
My 'O' level exams are over. And they didn't go as well as I'd planned. I planned on leaving the exam hall after my last exam all happy, but I was just tired. I hadn't slept very well that last exam week, studying until 2AM and waking up spontaneously at 5AM only to realize it's to early may be the cause, and I'd been having repetitive headaches and my nodes were hurting. I'm worried about my English. I'm used to writing stories, but ever since my English teacher started giving me low marks for my stories, I got discouraged, and I wrote a factual essay for my exam. God knows what my results will be like. I could very possibly be shit at factual essays. And that's what worries me. It's very strange; why did I have to go and write that essay? It's about the best and worst aspects of being a teenager for God's sake! Even worse, I still went online and watched TV after my last post, contrary to what I'd ordered myself to do. I went online, but I played mind tricks on myself by pretending I wasn't actually online so I wouldn't feel guilty. So badass, man.
On a completely unrelated subject, as you may or may not know, all those words I erased in previous posts, signified by a [whatever words were here have been removed], were erased because they contained information I found too personal for the internet once re-reading it several times. I'll let you know now that it was about how I felt I had trouble controlling my anger that was often provoked by very minor and stupid things.
A few days ago, I had another anger attack but once I'd calmed down, I realized that what I was feeling was illogical. I got angry because of what was written on a website. But why? There's nothing offensive there. In fact, everything X said about me is good. I got upset for silly reasons such as X having a haircut, X getting a massage, X getting an ear piercing, and things even more stupid. I understood, after the anger attack, that those were dumb reasons. So, why did it make me angry? To make matters worse, I didn't tell X why I was upset, or that I was upset. I actually told X that I was fine when X asked what was wrong because I was acting hostile towards X but for no reason within logic. Again, why?
And then I realized that I was worse as a child. I got angry over such minor things as a thread sticking out on the inside of my socks, or when I changed clothes after swimming in a pool without showering and my body was sticky. On one occasion, my dad, sister and I were playing Monopoly. My sister took some of my dad's money and I got angry. I started shouting and crying, so she grabbed her now bigger pile of money and gave it to my dad. I got even angrier. I had a tantrum and my dad had to hug me, but I wouldn't calm down until everybody quit the game. I somehow felt that by doing what my sister did, she'd ruined the game.
Getting angry over things that minor just seems crazy because it sure as hell is not normal. So, I looked it up and came to this which states "Unexpressed anger can lead to other problems. It can lead to pathological expressions of anger, such as passive-aggressive behavior (getting back at people indirectly, without telling them why, rather than confronting them head-on)" and "Easily angered people don't always curse an throw things; sometimes they withdraw socially, sulk or get physically ill. People who are easily angered generally have what some psychologists call a low tolerance for frustration, meaning simply that they feel that they should not have to be subjected to frustration, inconvenience or annoyance. They can't take things in stride, and they're particularly infuriated if the situation seems somehow unjust: for example, being corrected for a minor mistake. What makes these people this way? A number of things. One cause may be genetic or physiological; there is evidence that some children are born irritable, touchy and easily angered, and that these signs are present from a very early age." That's all true for me.
So, then I looked up this passive-aggressive personality disorder thing, and I found that the stupid things that made me angry were related to some of the passive-aggressive traits. Such traits include fear of dependency, fear of competition, fear of intimacy and feeling victimized. Passive-aggressive people tend to be needy, seeking attention and easily angered. They do things that will make loved ones pay attention to them, such as withdraw oneself socially or not eat. Sounds like me.
I don't know much about this psychology business, so I may be completely wrong. I was just moved with how much I agreed with that article about controlling anger. Whether or not I have this personality disorder, I've been learning to control my anger, so that's something to be proud of. Yay. :]
Listening to: The Leaving Song by AFI
My 'O' level exams are over. And they didn't go as well as I'd planned. I planned on leaving the exam hall after my last exam all happy, but I was just tired. I hadn't slept very well that last exam week, studying until 2AM and waking up spontaneously at 5AM only to realize it's to early may be the cause, and I'd been having repetitive headaches and my nodes were hurting. I'm worried about my English. I'm used to writing stories, but ever since my English teacher started giving me low marks for my stories, I got discouraged, and I wrote a factual essay for my exam. God knows what my results will be like. I could very possibly be shit at factual essays. And that's what worries me. It's very strange; why did I have to go and write that essay? It's about the best and worst aspects of being a teenager for God's sake! Even worse, I still went online and watched TV after my last post, contrary to what I'd ordered myself to do. I went online, but I played mind tricks on myself by pretending I wasn't actually online so I wouldn't feel guilty. So badass, man.
On a completely unrelated subject, as you may or may not know, all those words I erased in previous posts, signified by a [whatever words were here have been removed], were erased because they contained information I found too personal for the internet once re-reading it several times. I'll let you know now that it was about how I felt I had trouble controlling my anger that was often provoked by very minor and stupid things.
A few days ago, I had another anger attack but once I'd calmed down, I realized that what I was feeling was illogical. I got angry because of what was written on a website. But why? There's nothing offensive there. In fact, everything X said about me is good. I got upset for silly reasons such as X having a haircut, X getting a massage, X getting an ear piercing, and things even more stupid. I understood, after the anger attack, that those were dumb reasons. So, why did it make me angry? To make matters worse, I didn't tell X why I was upset, or that I was upset. I actually told X that I was fine when X asked what was wrong because I was acting hostile towards X but for no reason within logic. Again, why?
And then I realized that I was worse as a child. I got angry over such minor things as a thread sticking out on the inside of my socks, or when I changed clothes after swimming in a pool without showering and my body was sticky. On one occasion, my dad, sister and I were playing Monopoly. My sister took some of my dad's money and I got angry. I started shouting and crying, so she grabbed her now bigger pile of money and gave it to my dad. I got even angrier. I had a tantrum and my dad had to hug me, but I wouldn't calm down until everybody quit the game. I somehow felt that by doing what my sister did, she'd ruined the game.
Getting angry over things that minor just seems crazy because it sure as hell is not normal. So, I looked it up and came to this which states "Unexpressed anger can lead to other problems. It can lead to pathological expressions of anger, such as passive-aggressive behavior (getting back at people indirectly, without telling them why, rather than confronting them head-on)" and "Easily angered people don't always curse an throw things; sometimes they withdraw socially, sulk or get physically ill. People who are easily angered generally have what some psychologists call a low tolerance for frustration, meaning simply that they feel that they should not have to be subjected to frustration, inconvenience or annoyance. They can't take things in stride, and they're particularly infuriated if the situation seems somehow unjust: for example, being corrected for a minor mistake. What makes these people this way? A number of things. One cause may be genetic or physiological; there is evidence that some children are born irritable, touchy and easily angered, and that these signs are present from a very early age." That's all true for me.
So, then I looked up this passive-aggressive personality disorder thing, and I found that the stupid things that made me angry were related to some of the passive-aggressive traits. Such traits include fear of dependency, fear of competition, fear of intimacy and feeling victimized. Passive-aggressive people tend to be needy, seeking attention and easily angered. They do things that will make loved ones pay attention to them, such as withdraw oneself socially or not eat. Sounds like me.
I don't know much about this psychology business, so I may be completely wrong. I was just moved with how much I agreed with that article about controlling anger. Whether or not I have this personality disorder, I've been learning to control my anger, so that's something to be proud of. Yay. :]
Saturday 11 November 2006
Feeling: Silly
Listening to: Somewhere Else by Razorlight
Don't you hate it when you really want to do something, so you go on your way to start to do it but then you forget what you were going to do, so you stand there, weight on one leg, saying "What the hell was I going to do?" only to receive no reply because nobody's listening or even around, which means you were indeed talking to yourself?
Or maybe it's a problem faced only by underdeveloped moose who've had too many carbonated dreams and sugar-coated painkillers to believe her own ideas, and so, maybe you don't know what I'm talking about and think I'm a weirdo who wears my undies too tight around the ankles. But then again, maybe not, and maybe you know exactly what I'm talking about so this whole paragraph was for no other use than to practice my English/typing skills and to irritate those people who hate wasting time because we're living in a crazy world where everybody thinks they need to go faster because everything just moves so fucking slow. Who knows? I sure don't.
My brother left for New Zealand today. It was so cute watching him disappear behind those big glass doors all by himself, engulfed in whatever emotions he was feeling. He'll be arriving there at midnight our time which means he's got more or less 5 hours and 35 minutes to go.
Also, and this is plainly a remainder to myself, I have not been paying any attention to those rules I set up for myself about not going online when studying is needed. So, please, Sue-Anne, stop being so stubborn and distracted by the pixilated beauty of the computer or television for the next 5 days. You'll thank me later.
Listening to: Somewhere Else by Razorlight
Don't you hate it when you really want to do something, so you go on your way to start to do it but then you forget what you were going to do, so you stand there, weight on one leg, saying "What the hell was I going to do?" only to receive no reply because nobody's listening or even around, which means you were indeed talking to yourself?
Or maybe it's a problem faced only by underdeveloped moose who've had too many carbonated dreams and sugar-coated painkillers to believe her own ideas, and so, maybe you don't know what I'm talking about and think I'm a weirdo who wears my undies too tight around the ankles. But then again, maybe not, and maybe you know exactly what I'm talking about so this whole paragraph was for no other use than to practice my English/typing skills and to irritate those people who hate wasting time because we're living in a crazy world where everybody thinks they need to go faster because everything just moves so fucking slow. Who knows? I sure don't.
My brother left for New Zealand today. It was so cute watching him disappear behind those big glass doors all by himself, engulfed in whatever emotions he was feeling. He'll be arriving there at midnight our time which means he's got more or less 5 hours and 35 minutes to go.
Also, and this is plainly a remainder to myself, I have not been paying any attention to those rules I set up for myself about not going online when studying is needed. So, please, Sue-Anne, stop being so stubborn and distracted by the pixilated beauty of the computer or television for the next 5 days. You'll thank me later.
Thursday 9 November 2006
Feeling: Squishy
Listening to: Hey There Delilah by Plain White T's
I was going to post this:
Okay. You've probably figured it out by now, but in case you haven't, I'll tell you. I lied. I don't have antlers. And if you've seen pictures of me with antlers; they're fake. I mean, the antlers aren't real. I always wondered what it would be like to have antlers, so I went a little crazy and said things I'd rather you hadn't heard, did things I'd rather you hadn't known about, but all in all, I'm sorry I lied. Mind you, absence of antlers does not mean I am not a moose. Oh, I'm still a moose, just not a male one with antlers, or a female one with antlers, if you will, because they are non-existant. I'm female. And a moose. Without antlers.
But then I thought, "Naaaahhhhhhh." So, instead, I'm going to tell you about the adventure I had today. And boy, did I have an adventure.
See, I woke up at 6:30AM, pealed myself off the couch because yes, I sleep on the couch. The adventure began when I brushed my teeth. WITH TOOTHPASTE. OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD. I got excited and did a little dance in the bathroom. Then, I stopped because I stubbed my toe on the toilet and my glasses fell in the bowl which was full of poo because someone took a huge dump and clogged the toilet. So, there I was, my toe throbbing with pain, reaching into the diseased toilet bowl, allowing all horrid stenches to stain me. I retrieved my glasses and threw them out 'cause they were smelly.
After that, I went to the kitchen to make me my next adventure: POACHED EGG AND BEEF SALAMI SANDWICH. AMAZINGGGGGGGGGGGGG. I was in the process of poaching the egg in the microwave when the machine started making strange sounds. I turned to face the microwave in time to see it explode, burning my hair and skin to a crisp charcoal colour.
I didn't feel like going to school after that. There was no way I was going to face my Biology papers 1 and 2 after all that. My mum wouldn't let me stay at home though. So, I tied her up and brainwashed her using this hypnosis trick I learnt a few days ago. It didn't work. She ended up punching me in the face and stealing my kidneys and replacing them with lollipops.
I called the ambulance, but apparently, I don't know their phone number. I ended up calling the first person listed in the phone book and asking for the ambulance number to which I received inaudible mumblings and then dialtone. A DIALTONE! HOW AWESOME IS THATTTTTTT?
Anyway, a few hours later, after choking on a chicken bone, falling out of a window and fracturing the little toe on my left foot, here I am, chatting with Ardy about worms crawling around in your stomach and how emoticons are creepy.
Don't you just wish you were me?
Disclaimer: Some events mentioned above are fictional and thus, did not actually occur. Do not be misled into believing these silly lies which are clearly attempts to get killed by the local mafia, if only they existed. And you thought this was going to be a well-thought, meaningful post. Let me giggle a little because of that. HEHEHE.
Listening to: Hey There Delilah by Plain White T's
I was going to post this:
Okay. You've probably figured it out by now, but in case you haven't, I'll tell you. I lied. I don't have antlers. And if you've seen pictures of me with antlers; they're fake. I mean, the antlers aren't real. I always wondered what it would be like to have antlers, so I went a little crazy and said things I'd rather you hadn't heard, did things I'd rather you hadn't known about, but all in all, I'm sorry I lied. Mind you, absence of antlers does not mean I am not a moose. Oh, I'm still a moose, just not a male one with antlers, or a female one with antlers, if you will, because they are non-existant. I'm female. And a moose. Without antlers.
But then I thought, "Naaaahhhhhhh." So, instead, I'm going to tell you about the adventure I had today. And boy, did I have an adventure.
See, I woke up at 6:30AM, pealed myself off the couch because yes, I sleep on the couch. The adventure began when I brushed my teeth. WITH TOOTHPASTE. OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD. I got excited and did a little dance in the bathroom. Then, I stopped because I stubbed my toe on the toilet and my glasses fell in the bowl which was full of poo because someone took a huge dump and clogged the toilet. So, there I was, my toe throbbing with pain, reaching into the diseased toilet bowl, allowing all horrid stenches to stain me. I retrieved my glasses and threw them out 'cause they were smelly.
After that, I went to the kitchen to make me my next adventure: POACHED EGG AND BEEF SALAMI SANDWICH. AMAZINGGGGGGGGGGGGG. I was in the process of poaching the egg in the microwave when the machine started making strange sounds. I turned to face the microwave in time to see it explode, burning my hair and skin to a crisp charcoal colour.
I didn't feel like going to school after that. There was no way I was going to face my Biology papers 1 and 2 after all that. My mum wouldn't let me stay at home though. So, I tied her up and brainwashed her using this hypnosis trick I learnt a few days ago. It didn't work. She ended up punching me in the face and stealing my kidneys and replacing them with lollipops.
I called the ambulance, but apparently, I don't know their phone number. I ended up calling the first person listed in the phone book and asking for the ambulance number to which I received inaudible mumblings and then dialtone. A DIALTONE! HOW AWESOME IS THATTTTTTT?
Anyway, a few hours later, after choking on a chicken bone, falling out of a window and fracturing the little toe on my left foot, here I am, chatting with Ardy about worms crawling around in your stomach and how emoticons are creepy.
Don't you just wish you were me?
Disclaimer: Some events mentioned above are fictional and thus, did not actually occur. Do not be misled into believing these silly lies which are clearly attempts to get killed by the local mafia, if only they existed. And you thought this was going to be a well-thought, meaningful post. Let me giggle a little because of that. HEHEHE.
Tuesday 7 November 2006
Feeling: Whispered
Listening to: There For You by Flyleaf
I think there's either a virus or spyware on the computer. But more importantly, did you know it is illegal, under the laws of blogging in Brunei, to blog about ill-mannered things directed at the government? If you get caught, the government will shut down your blog, or something worse, but I can't remember what that worse something is so let's go with arrest you and step on your toes with big combat boots for 20 years non-stop.
If you're my stalker and obsessed with me and everything I do, you've probably noticed my antlers finally grew in. :] Feels great; people respect me now. I think it has something to do with the fact that my antlers make me seem taller than I actually am. It's awesome and all, but the strange thing is, female moose don't have antlers.
....
Strange...
But enough of me, here's something to go crazy over:
August Winterman by Dead Poetic
And If I could teach the world to be,
I'd teach them all to be something just like me.
Frustrated, bitter, depressing.
Perfect; as if my wings were like yours,
but I'm falling down.
And if you could hold your tongue long enough,
you'd see that all I am is love, but I don't like me.
I despise me.
Perfect; as if my wings were like yours
but I'm falling down.
Perfect; as if my wings were like yours,
but I'm falling down.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure for.
You're the only way to dry my eyes.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure.
But I'm the one who's wrong. I'm the one who cries.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure for.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure.
But I'm the one who's wrong. I'm the one who cries.
I cry; I despise me.
And why, yes, I do have both of my English exams tomorrow at 8AM till 11:30AM. Thanks for asking.
And of courseeeeee; I am in love with that bushbaby; son of Cheryl and Jamie, grandson of his grandparents, nephew of his aunts and uncles, player of video games, master of guitar, friend of his friends, guitarist of MOTA, reason to wake up smiling, keeper of my heart, part of my soul. How did you know? *Giggles.
Listening to: There For You by Flyleaf
I think there's either a virus or spyware on the computer. But more importantly, did you know it is illegal, under the laws of blogging in Brunei, to blog about ill-mannered things directed at the government? If you get caught, the government will shut down your blog, or something worse, but I can't remember what that worse something is so let's go with arrest you and step on your toes with big combat boots for 20 years non-stop.
If you're my stalker and obsessed with me and everything I do, you've probably noticed my antlers finally grew in. :] Feels great; people respect me now. I think it has something to do with the fact that my antlers make me seem taller than I actually am. It's awesome and all, but the strange thing is, female moose don't have antlers.
....
Strange...
But enough of me, here's something to go crazy over:
And If I could teach the world to be,
I'd teach them all to be something just like me.
Frustrated, bitter, depressing.
Perfect; as if my wings were like yours,
but I'm falling down.
And if you could hold your tongue long enough,
you'd see that all I am is love, but I don't like me.
I despise me.
Perfect; as if my wings were like yours
but I'm falling down.
Perfect; as if my wings were like yours,
but I'm falling down.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure for.
You're the only way to dry my eyes.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure.
But I'm the one who's wrong. I'm the one who cries.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure for.
It's a disease they'll never have a cure.
But I'm the one who's wrong. I'm the one who cries.
I cry; I despise me.
And why, yes, I do have both of my English exams tomorrow at 8AM till 11:30AM. Thanks for asking.
And of courseeeeee; I am in love with that bushbaby; son of Cheryl and Jamie, grandson of his grandparents, nephew of his aunts and uncles, player of video games, master of guitar, friend of his friends, guitarist of MOTA, reason to wake up smiling, keeper of my heart, part of my soul. How did you know? *Giggles.
Wednesday 1 November 2006
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined.
"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." - Rebecca, age 8
"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." - Billy, age 4
"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." - Karl, age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." - Chrissy, age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." - Terri, age 4
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." - Danny, age 7
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss." - Emily, age 8
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen," - Bobby, age 7
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday." - Noelle, age 7
"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." - Tommy, age 6
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore," - Cindy, age 8
"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." - Clare, age 6
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." - Elaine, age 5
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is more handsome than Robert Redford."
Chris - age 7
"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." - Mary Ann, age 4
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." - Lauren, age 4
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." - Karen, age 7
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross." - Mark, age 6
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget," - Jessica, age 8
So, that made my day pretty. Then I had to go and watch this fucking video. And shit. It gave me goosebumps. It's what happened to a lady after Hurricane Katrina caused her house to flood. She was wearing the same wet clothes for days and the water was so contaminated that she developed a rash on her breast. It got worse and she finally went to the doctor, and the rest is on the video. If you plan on watching it, let me warn you that if it made me squimish, it could do the same to you. I watched 2 seconds of it and stopped it 'cause I couldn't handle it. But maybe I'm just a chicken who's scared of everything.
God damn.
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