Wei, we're RLY HERE!

guess who's back

2011-05-09T18:38:00.001+08:00

i have not forgotten but most people have

why would anyone sacrifice real words for a digitful of pixellated text?

... Further proof of my madness.

2009-05-02T23:14:00.000+08:00

єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:12:49 PM)
http://www.angelhairpasta.tk
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:12:51 PM)
have you seen this?
------ says: (11:12:52 PM)
I know
------ says: (11:12:54 PM)
yes
------ says: (11:12:54 PM)
:D
------ says: (11:12:56 PM)
hahaha
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:12:58 PM)
oh. meh
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:13:00 PM)
i stupid :P
------ says: (11:13:03 PM)
LOL
------ says: (11:13:06 PM)
no, you're not
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:13:08 PM)
its mostly random high school shit though
------ says: (11:13:27 PM)
mmm
------ says: (11:13:28 PM)
okay
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:13:36 PM)
so im not sure if itll be your kind of study
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:13:51 PM)
*story
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:13:52 PM)
LOL STUDY
єтнєяєαℓℓγ;; cαρσ ᗪì cαρì яєì. [17: i don't get it.] says: (11:13:57 PM)
i be going mad

.... LOLOLOL WHUT

nonetheless-

2009-05-01T21:33:00.001+08:00

what am i running from?

what?

why?

2009-04-02T22:47:00.002+08:00

if i ever met aliens i hope they'd beam me up gently, and that, since they're aliens, they'd have a scalpel which released pain, and that they'd cut me deep, and everything would flow out into a collection basin, and then they'd let me down softly, and i'd be so happy free light flying.

2009-03-16T22:39:00.001+08:00

-pokes blog-

-pokes again-

-pokes herself-

-sighs-

there are certain people you just keep coming back to

2009-02-22T12:51:00.002+08:00

When this blog was first created, I think it was to help the both of us get to know one another better. How we came to the conclusion that a joint blog would achieve that, I have no idea. Our minds work in strange ways.

After reading the archives, I realised that I've been treating this blog as a dump for all my pent-up frustration and misery. I suppose, in a way, from reading those entries where I don't really state anything in particular, but maybe am revealing more than even I realise to whoever is the audience, everybody's getting to know me better. Getting to know us better. Kind of, anyway. I'm not really sure about that.

I guess only some of you can accurately match whichever post to the person who posted it. There's only two of us, but I suppose it's pretty difficult, especially if you're not close to even one of us. I have no idea how similar we are, or how different, but what I know is that the distinction is there, and that's okay. We're not supposed to be replicas of one another, after all. That would be creepy. Similar enough to confuse but different enough to distinguish is good enough for us.

It is my realisation that I wouldn't be typing this right now at all if I wasn't feeling so terribly awful about everything. But that's okay. I'll get over the feeling soon enough, and then I'll come back and laugh at this post at a later time.

Till then.

2009-02-20T22:58:00.002+08:00

Here's a special number 19 for someone who'll see it on this blog:

You're amazing, lovely, and brilliant in every single way. No matter how little I see you, talking to you on MSN is one of the best things to cheer me up after a long day at school. It's true what they say, that the ones you love are the ones that never fail to make you smile. :) Now stop bugging me to update this thing. MUAHAHA.

By the way, how do you pronounce this in your head, guys?

;kdlsafjad;lkfjds;akhlfajdgklsdfhjdslka;sfldsaj;fa;;;;kldsfjkldsajf;sdf;;;;;;kldfjas;dklhg;ksh;d?

I actually read every single letter out until about the first semi-colon. Eww, colons, they always make me think of guts and gore and slimy things in Bio. It's almost enough for me to pretend to be vegetarian so I don't have to do dissections-

But then again, I'm not that much better in Chem either. Jas and I always do experiments on the same table. Our reasoning is that if we cause an explosion, we'll be the first to go-

And there'll be no big loss.

Mm?

THE GOD-AWFUL ROWING TOWARDS...

2009-02-20T22:44:00.002+08:00

i always thought that i'd be a stronger person when i first found out my parents never wanted me. this was how i used to imagine it: from the great pain, i would draw great strength. i would grow up, go to a good university, graduate and find a great, well-paying job, be dreadfully successful, and have many lovely, beautiful children with a person i loved and treat them perfectly, and then tell them that i was alive because even though my family didn't want me - even though they hated me and wished me dead - i, above all, wanted myself, loved myself and wanted to stay alive. this was not the case. as i grew up, i realised that, as a result of my upbringing, i disliked human contact increasingly, and that i didn't only just hate myself - i resented myself to the bone, and beyond. the hate was like an exceptionally twisted coil of dna, which refused to unwind and would inevitably cause the downfall of the entire system.

it did.

GET OFF THE BUS

2009-02-02T21:40:00.002+08:00

we'd never enjoyed the gatherings before - politeness often creates a new sort of emptiness which cannot be dispelled, and this emptiness always used to loom in the background of all our meetings borne out of habit

today, though, everybody was smiling, and happiness and laughter filled the air like water being poured into an empty cup, and there was not a person in sight who was weighted with a void within their body -

- i suppose we're all growing up, now; a good a time as any.

I BELIEVE IN SERENDIPITY.

2009-01-23T20:13:00.004+08:00

HAY HAY GUISE LOOK~

I don't know about you, but I feel that this is *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*MEANT TO BEEEEEE*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(Also, the Pairing Generator is the most awesome thing I've ever come across. I can't stop clicking the button, even when most of the time it gives me really creepy Gant or von Karma pairings.)

(The Ace Attorney series is also very, very awesome. THE PEOPLE WHO OWN THIS BLOG ENDORSE IT. VERY READILY. Play it if you get the chance! :D)

AHHHHHHHH.

2009-01-14T10:25:00.002+08:00

EXAMSAREOVEREXAMSAREOVEREXAMSAREOVERANDDONEWITHFOREVER. Well not forever, I'll have to start studying again soon, but who cares because I can enjoy momentary happiness UNTIL MY GRADES COME OUT LA LA LA LA LA!!!!

*skips through a field of flowers*

*trips over her own feet*

OUCH.

ANYWAY. Since my exams are over (YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYYYYY) I WILL PROCEED TO OVERDOSE ON CANDY, SIT AROUND ON MSN ALL DAY AND WAIT FOR MY BLOGMATE TO COME ONLINE, AND JUST BE A LAZY WIMP LIKE HOW I USUALLY AM-

Not like I wasn't before mocks though. Damn.

Why I hate mocks-

2009-01-11T19:32:00.002+08:00

ethereally;; capo di capi re || orangewafflegirl.blogspot.com says: (7:29:30 PM)
kits
Ҝiŧšũπë says: (7:29:33 PM)
?
ethereally;; capo di capi re || orangewafflegirl.blogspot.com says: (7:29:43 PM)
WHY WOULD I EVER NEED TO KNOW
ethereally;; capo di capi re || orangewafflegirl.blogspot.com says: (7:30:35 PM)
THAT CATION EXCHANGE CAPACITY OF SOIL IS THE MEASURE OF THE ABILITY THE NEGATIVE CHARGES IN THE SOIL HAS TO EXCHANGE CATIONS WITH THE ROOTS OF THE PLANTS IN IT
ethereally;; capo di capi re || orangewafflegirl.blogspot.com says: (7:30:49 PM)
(and that was partially from memory, sigh i cant remember all of it yet)
Ҝiŧšũπë says: (7:30:58 PM)
wtf......................................
Ҝiŧšũπë says: (7:31:03 PM)
u studying gardening?
Ҝiŧšũπë says: (7:31:05 PM)
rofl

... Instant WIN.

...I don't think there ever was a need to prove that I am a retard. Ahaha.

2009-01-07T21:35:00.000+08:00

'nuff said.

I HATE

2009-01-07T20:05:00.001+08:00

pressure stress and most of all people that don't appreciate the wonders of orange. ORANGE!

Some mornings

2008-12-31T00:46:00.002+08:00

I get too lazy to blog, to eat, to sleep, too lazy to do anything than just stare at my ceiling all day, wondering what might lie in the future or the shreds of a forgotten past. I think of the people that I've left behind, the people that I might see tomorrow, the faces and names and people all blending into one before dissipating into colour. And I turn around in my sheets again, unsure whether it's really me that's causing this lack of motivation, whether it's really my fault that I'm dreaming of a future that I can't be bothered to create, dreaming of a past that I can't be bothered to recreate or don't want to revisit, too lazy yet too happy yet too scared to face the present and what it holds...

I switch off the lamps, and leave myself in darkness

what is love?

2008-12-30T00:19:00.001+08:00

i have a child's grip, but i am the most fucking destructive thing in the universe. i don't even need to break your bones or possessions. i only need to break your heart, and everything else around it, and everything else is done.

this is how the world ends

2008-12-29T21:31:00.001+08:00

Everything is so fucking beautiful it hurts.

This is the REAL WORLD, Christmas Songs, and for the first (and last) day of Christmas, people get TOWELS. D<

2008-12-25T22:15:00.001+08:00

~~...ahem. I'm kidding. Not that I didn't get towels or didn't not get towels. -cough-~~

ANYWAY.

HIIIIIIIIIII TO EVERYBODY WHO'S READING THIS.

~MERRY CHRISTMAS~! ~HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR~! ~SPARKLE~ AND BE ~GORGEOUS~!

And No, I have not been drinking or eating sugar at an alarming rate.

~~Now, I'm off to caress my towels lovingly and appreciate the fact that I got something at all. Ta~!~~

remix

2008-12-23T00:10:00.003+08:00

this was how i told you i loved you:

i'd bake things for you you never asked for but knew you liked, and eat whatever you cooked for me in return and tell you it was delicious (even if it was something even cockroaches wouldn't dream of poaching). i'd ask you out for lunch at random and pay for it, telling you to buy me my movie ticket later when you tried to press money into my hand, even on days when we'd already watched a movie before eating. in school when you had difficulty with your work (which was seldom), i'd shave my nose off trying to help you and pretend it was nothing when i saw your surprised thankfulness. i'd hug you whenever, just to feel myself become whole. i'd follow you around just because, and follow other people as well just so it wouldn't seem so creepy. i'd brace myself before getting my results back, so you wouldn't have to see me cry (but i always did, after you left). i'd send you letters and e-mails just because, wrote them light-heartedly so you'd laugh, tell you you didn't have to reply, and pretend not to be upset when you never did. when you went online, we'd talk for hours and i'd tell you everything - even things you didn't need to know - just for the sake of it. often you'd go away for ages, and then i'd wait till the time you came back, wait until i fell asleep in front of the computer and woke the next morning to the dead orange wash across a section of the taskbar, and shower after turning the computer off without clicking on it to check (i knew you were offline).

this is how i am telling you i love you:

straight to your face, with no hesistation, delicately, trying my best not to startle you or slap you with my words, grasping your hands to explain more directly and letting them go when you pull and turn away, sitting still and looking at the ground whilst you get up and go away-

-packing my things, -

-and leaving because you asked me to.

Tune into-

2008-12-19T00:53:00.002+08:00

She's trying to listen, trying to keep her ear pressed to your skin, trying to keep her hand fixed on your shoulder and her mind on the snow, her thoughts in rhythm with the beating of your heart. And she's not sure, not sure of anything anymore, not sure whether this is imagined or real or anything she would ever have dreamed of, an illusion charmed up in her desperation, a fantasy crafted by the artists of her mind? For the first time, she's not sitting on this park bench alone, she's got somebody to squeeze her hand while staring into the sky, she's got somebody to stroke her cheek while facing the ice and the stabbing wind.

She blushes a little as you bring your finger to touch her lips; the same lips that you've taken kisses from in another reality, the same lips that spoke of love and hate and everything in between. They're warm. Warm unlike the rest of her body in the falling snow, shredded icicles that she once feared in the rage of a storm. But no, no, the storm is over: she has you now, she has you and your shyness to complement her own, the shyness that she saw in herself long ago but she felt you try to hide. She knows she was the first to reach out towards you even behind her facade, her mask of icy blue and porcelain white that today, this Christmas, you managed to crack. A mockery of symbolism, the baubles on the pine tree crashing towards the ground; crashing to the sounds of the beating of your heart? No, it wasn't a plummet, it was a graceful fall. A fall that she was willing to take again now that she had come crumbling down once, a chance that meant nothing to her except the final vestiges of her sanity.

Did you know that she would be like this; did you know that she would have golden hair and a pointed chin? Did you feel the racetrack of her mind pumping out the blood of her thoughts along to the metronome of your heart? No, she doesn't think you did, doesn't think you even knew she would be her; but for a wild, fleeting moment, she allows herself not to care, allows herself to sink into the fabric of your hoodie and for herself to act like this is true. And she flushes again and smiles, her body a hot water bottle in the cold, gazes up at you with rawness and apology and love, fidgets a little as you lift a skinny arm to tangle her hair- because you're there, you're not a thing like you pretended to be but she knew that long ago; she had never seen you through the distorted mirrors of a mask- and she laughs, wisps of giggles from her mouth, because you not being you doesn't change the fact that you're there and you're real.

Real. Real, real; she wants to speak to you, call your name, whisper it out loud just to solidify the moment, essence of emotion distilled forever in time. But she's not sure which of your names she should be using, knowing that no matter what, it will come out as a gasp, the mist of her words lingering in the air as vapour before effervescence turns it into nothing. Again she feels like a child jumping on her bed to see if she can touch the ceiling, the elves in Santa's workshop that know that they will never be called upon to join him in the skies, for she is moving her lips over and over again in silence but never uttering a sound. A slight yearning for this quiet, especially in the aftermath of poisoned words and fire flying across the room like darts of war, a slight yearning for the peace normally associated with this time of year and the emotions of love.

She presses her ear closer to you as you wince; for once, she's the more experienced one, she's the one that knows how to deal with relationships even though none of them have been materialized, she's the one that holds your heart on your sleeve and your feelings in her hands, when you should be the strong one, the one that's toying with her like you always have. But she can't expect reality to be the same as its projection, can she? She can't expect reality to hold the same faces and names, can't expect reality to be the same solace of escape. Reality has feeling and touch and chilling snow, kisses she can actually feel as she snuggles herself closer to you, reality has the roles reversed because she's older, wiser, supposedly smarter, but still afraid. Deathly scared of girls or not, she knows you love her, she can hear it in the thumping of your heartbeat and the light flush on your face so much like her own, because she's scared too, scared that she isn't good enough.

In reality, virtual ranks mean nothing, and she glows with warmth, glad for that as she sees your tentativeness in your black eyes, swimming with emotion and anger and surprise and fear as she smiles again, comfortable in your embrace and to just sit there forever watching the snow fall, watching frozen water shake itself into the ground like powdered icing on her cake. There's nothing between you anymore except blushes and quiet, no, no; it's not quiet as long as she knows you're there for her and always will be, not quiet as long as even relationships based in fantasy can have a happy end, not quiet as long as she can hear the thumping of your heart. It's not quiet as long as she has you, because the meaning of this meeting fills in the gaps, the meaning of her having someone to hold, to touch on Christmas Day when she's always been alone, love spoken of but never felt in her arms as closely as this.

And like always she's worried that you'll disappear and you'll be nothing but a dream, a tantalizing dream that gets whisked away with the calls of a new morning. She bites her lip to make sure, almost hard enough to draw the taste of blood, bites her lip to remind herself that you're flesh and you're human just like she is, that you're not going to vanish into smoke like the words she can't seem to find. She feels your fingers caress your palms, senses your fear, senses her own, and realizes for the first time that she's not weak; she's strong inside despite her meek front and blatant submission, she knows how to take charge when she wants to and knows what it is to fight.

Because everyone's got inner strength deep down, because she's willing to wait for you to find yours, because she's seen it once and twice and many a time, or was it just a projection of you that was strong? Was it just the other side that she had seen, the other side that she had fallen in love with? Was it just the darkness that she had wanted, the flip side to her light? Your heart's still beating, the questions are coming, tap tap tap like your heart rate and your foot on the ground and the steps of the passersby as they dance away. The snow's stopped falling, the sun's glaring at her face while she's wondering whether it's possible for a fantasy to become real.

Then she laughs it away. Of course it is, silly, she chides as she pulls herself away, warm enough to be able to glance you in the eye and mouth a "Thank you". She can't hear your heart any more. She can't hear it beat, have her thoughts spring to its rapid pacing, so she's using words to fill that silence, words that make her realize that she has spoken and force a blush to return to her face. You raise an eyebrow in surprise, a gesture that speaks of bitter truth, a gesture that speaks of confusion mixed with mesmerized love. Her eyes gaze up into yours again, waiting for your response, knowing that you're scared like she is, knowing that no matter what, she understands how you feel because deep down, you and her the same, like most people are the same. It's not like her to speak first, so she's going to wait for you-

"Hello, Sean," you say stiffly, briefly glancing into her eyes before turning your head away. She laughs at your tone, a giggle that sounds like the tinkling of Christmas bells, for she knows that this means something good. And the red remains on her face as she rests on your shoulder again, ready to tune in to your feelings through the beating of your heart.

for Lavender-Ice

Happy Christmas;;

Secret Santa

Because I am Queen of Disturbing Mental Images:

2008-12-14T22:56:00.003+08:00

Mentorship with my mentor is like waking up and finding that I am masturbating a corpse. With superglue on my hand.

1. IT'S GROSS AND I HATE IT AND IT STINKS
2. I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M DOING IT
3. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO
4. I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON
5. IT'S INEFFECTUAL AND HORRIBLE AND ANNOYING
6. IT DISTRESSES ME GREATLY
7. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT POSSESSED ME TO DO IT
8. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I STARTED DOING IT
9. I WANT TO STOP BUT CAN'T
10. I DON'T EVER WANT TO DO IT AGAIN AFTER I STOP.

Can't stop can't stop someone please help me. This is horrible and I hate this and I don't ever want to do it again. Really. I mean ALL OF THE ABOVE REASONS. REALLY.

Someone be my pillar of strength and voice of wisdom. Evidently, I am not strong or wise enough.

WHAT IS THIS.

2008-12-08T22:38:00.006+08:00

Frankenstein's Creature? In MY ancient computer RPG?

IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK.

CREATURE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY COMPUTER GAME? O:

Everything is amazing and random now. Or I'm just slowly becoming moar insane.

...on a random sidenote, I loved Japan, hate being back and do not want to send anything more to my mentor. Jesus H. Christ.

And it's about thirteen days to HAPPINESS and INSANITY and LOVE and GOOD COMPANY with my best friend, also known as My Fellow Blogmate.

HURRAH.

ETA: Also on a random sidenote why does everybody hate the Creature. Ahahaha. Hahahaha. I don't particularly care. Which is why I'm laughing. Ahahahaha okay someone slap me plz.

Sometimes

2008-12-02T23:12:00.000+08:00

I'm too bitter for my own good, aren't I?

Hah.

Hah.

School play in two days, we don't know shit. I don't know shit.

I feel like shit.

Shit.

Ode to my blogmate in Japan

2008-11-27T18:51:00.002+08:00

You are on a plane to Japan
While I am at home like a fat man
You are away, my face goes wan
Good feelings from my heart have ran
Did you know I am your big fan?
In my sadness I shall eat flan
Just because I am down and I can
And will drive off in a caravan
Though driving without a license is under ban
To France where I can get a suntan
Or I may join the madness clan

one for the road

2008-11-27T09:51:00.003+08:00

Hello, kiddies.

Well, here's a post which VERY CLEARLY states who's behind it without stating the name of who's behind it at all.

Ahem. ANYWAY.

I'll be going to Japan for 11 days, from the 27th to the 8th. I am SO EXCITED and HAPPY. 8D

This is what I'll be doing:

...Er, yeah. Pretty much.

So, have fun, and to my fellow lovely blogmate, UPDATE THE BLOG OFTEN IN MY ABSENCE PL0X.

SEE YOU IN ELEVEN DAYS.

lk;adslfds'f

2008-11-21T20:13:00.000+08:00

I love this title. It says so much yet so little at the same time, sort of like...

Well, food. Food doesn't say that much, does it?

Or culture. I don't think the culture you come from necessarily dictates, or even partially defines, who you are. It's definitely nurture over nature, don't get me wrong, but sometimes two people grow up in the same setting and end up totally different. There's always a base personality down there, whether you like it or not, and if you decide to dig in deeper, you either find you like it...

Or you don't.

I still can't decide which of the two it is for me. A perpetual state of ambivalence. Calmness.

Otherwise known as "bleh".

plug in, baby

2008-11-19T00:03:00.000+08:00

through your shoulder, i can listen to your heart beating - through your stomach, and your chest, and even from your back - in various degrees of intensity. there are explanations for this - scientific explanations - but they are unsatisfactory, of course. what craftsman would accept plain science as a satisfying explanation for anything? especially something so beautiful, so interesting, so previously mystifying as the audibility of a beating heart? i grasp the chance to describe your amazing, beating heart, in a manner which only i can express - which, even if not exemplary, is unique in its own way. just like fingerprints. just like you.

your heart beats so loud, so quick - what's the rush, what's the hurry, what's the excitement? you're too young to be hurrying after trains to catch, or so i think. you've always been a go-getter - i suppose it's no surprise that your heart would think the same. i reach up to stroke your hair; your face. i hear the emptiness of a skipped beat at this point - and then the hurried drumming when it resumes, each individual beat coming together to form a sound like an orchestra of combined footsteps - the sound of inconsistency. uncertainty. nervosity. i now realise that perhaps your heart had been beating out a message for me - the loudness for a craving of attention and the hurried pitter-patter the panic of being forgotten.

we shift uncomfortably after this; my ear drifts away from your body, no longer pressed to your shoulder, or stomach, or any other area on your body which i could possibly hear the speech of your heart from. we sit upright; each of us turned away from the other. we both breathe deeply; still trying to listen for the beat of one another's hearts. for a moment i think i still can hear your heart drumming in my head, but i realise it is only a ringing in my head - the ringing of my heart; pained and yearning for yours. yours which i cannot hear. the connection - is lost.

i do not cry about this. i know that your heart is still in the same place, right and alive, as always. for now. i can go back and listen to it at a later time; it will not have moved, but it will have changed, but not enough for silence. not yet. this is what science tells me. i accept this, because i have no choice. i can only immortalise the moments in words, and nothing more. i cannot immortalise the objects themselves. i know this. i know that one day all will be dead, but preserved in text and paper, and the memory of the aether. this is what science tells me.

it tells me that it is too much to hope for forever.

Cause things leave me breathless-

2008-11-14T23:29:00.000+08:00

There are certain things that make me innumerably happy:

1) Madagascar 2, retarded as it was
2) Laughing with my friends
3) Crazy songs that play over and over again
4) Orange tea
5) Jasryn and Darren
6) Being mean and making fun of people- without really meaning it, of course
7) Pizza with people
8) Bitching about the past
9) Joking about the future.

AND... OMFG YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS, MY DARLING WONDERFULTASTIC BLOGMATE. :D :D :D

N, M NT DNG THS T NNY Y.

2008-11-13T15:28:00.000+08:00

...R M?!?!?!

HLL. M TYPNG WTHT VWLS T B CRYPTC. T'S QT FN. Y SHLD TRY T.

PPL STLL WLL NDRSTND Y. DN'T WRRY.

NYWY, THS S GD TM T D PLGGNG FR MY LVJRNL.

...NT SHMLSS, BCS Y CN'T GT N T RD PSTS NLSS FRND Y N TH FRST PLC. H. H. H. HHHHHHHHHH.

KY, THS PST NDS HR. CNGRTLTNS F Y STYD T TH ND. THGH SSPCT T'S BCS Y XPCT M T LPS-VWL T TH ND. WLL TLL Y THS:

NVR!!!11n!!!

I would spend my whole life with you.

2008-11-11T01:11:00.000+08:00

"The Eurasian community in Singapore is overwhelmingly Christian, most being Roman Catholics of Portuguese descent who celebrate Christian feast days such as Christmas, Easter and Corpus Christi."

...oh, Wikipedia. I LOVE YOU.

2008-10-28T19:34:00.000+08:00

I decided to join NaNoWriMo, with no plots, no ideas, no characters, and no clue of what in the world I was doing.

Now I have three plots, about 1283123 characters, and too many things that have filled my head with too much glunk.

I keep changing my mind about which one to write about. Apa la.

OH MY GOD, it LIVES!!!!

2008-10-28T19:12:00.000+08:00

Hey there. Hey.

...it's been a long time, hasn't it, dear jointblog?

I haven't forgotten about you. Promise.

I've just been, er, busy. Kinda. With exams and stuff.

Nothing much has happened. The only really significant events which have occurred are The Biting Point at Humanities in Celebration at HCI.

Which was, to cut a long story short, pretty damned awesome.

I miss the cast. So very much.

...D:

That aside, have I ever mentioned that it is excruciatingly difficult to learn languages when you are half asleep, or stoned? It is also hilarious. Observe, a scene during Japanese class:

Teacher: Cheryl, tell me, what is "I don't know" in Japanese?
Me: ...murr... huh? ...I don't know?
Teacher: Yes, "I don't know".
Me: ...guhhh, I don't know?
Teacher: ...yes. "I don't know".
Me: ...I don't know.

...as can be seen from above, my lack of mental activity causes much confusion. Or something.

...I don't know.

State of Shock

2008-10-05T19:25:00.000+08:00

You know, there are some things in life that make you feel like screaming. The things in life that make you feel like running down the prairie, stretching your arms up into the sky, throwing your hair back, and letting your yells fill the air, bitter and angry and painful, screaming until you can scream no more.

It doesn't matter if there's nobody to hear you; it doesn't matter if you can do it only in a dream. But sometimes, once in a while, when I lie in my bed at night and wonder what it would be like if things had never changed, I think that it might just be because secretly, I blame you. Not one specific YOU, but many people with that title, many people who I refer to as such in my head, including one or two who might just go by that name themselves.

I wouldn't know. Sometimes, I get angry and I don't know who I'm pissed off at, don't know who's making me want to pummel them, don't know where all this rage came from- and that in itself hurts, because I'm a lucky girl. I'm totally fine, physically and mentally, with the exception of my weight which is something all women fret over anyway. I have parents who love me, and friends that care for me. There's nothing in my life that some people wouldn't kill for...

First post? Fuck, yeah!

2008-10-05T00:38:00.000+08:00

...sorry, I had to do that.

Studying slowly erodes what is left of my humanity. Soon I shall DIE and require resuscitation via galvanism, and then I will walk the Earth and Spurn my Creator because I will be Hideous (which doesn't really make sense, really, because it's Not His Fault, whoever the fuck he is. I mean yeah.) and then my life will end with me running all over the country and then drowning myself in the little lagoon in Sentosa. And everyone will freak out but there will still occasionally be idiots roaming around in the pool and I will ~~Feed On Them.~~ - I mean - I don't know. (I am clearly incoherent, ha ha ha.)

Anyway, meanwhile, pre-death, I am terrorising ~~my friendzzz~~ the People Around Me by being excessively emo. Real Mother has expressed desire that I shut up and die in a dark small corner somewhere off the face of the earth, which is all very nice, you know. Cos I should. It would be a good time to quote song lyrics now, like Stars' Calendar Girl, but you know. Lazy.

INTERJECTION FROM BRAIN: How many swear words are there in this post? One? Ahaha. Ha. Ha. Completely Unrepresentative of How I Feel At This Moment. Okay. Time to correct that:

OH BLOODY FUCKING HELL THESE EXAMS ARE TAKING THEIR GODDAMN TOLL ON ME AND OH FUCK MY BRAIN IS DED WHAI DO THESE PEOPLE KEEP TRYING TO FUCKING PICK FROM IT. HUMANS WEREN'T MADE TO BE FUCKING SCAVENGERS; THERE ARE PLENTY OF FRESH BRAINS TO PICK FROM. LEAVE MINE ALONEEEEEE PL0X.

Okay, I am now indisputably Incoherent and should go off. Not that that'll help anything, but you know. Whatever makes Momma happy.

Here comes the lyric pseudo-spam:

I dreamed I was dying, as I so often do,
But when I awoke, I was sure it was true.
I went to the window, threw my head to the sky
And said: Whoever is up there, please Don't Let Me Die.

2008-10-04T01:02:00.001+08:00

I'm going to break a cliche today.

I'm going to make this first post wonderful and awesome and totally NOT an introduction to myself, NOT an introduction to my fifty cats and my imaginary friend Bob, or to my many many characters at the back of my head that are screaming that they are NEGLECTED, very much NEGLECTED.

Garrett. SHUT UP.

Anyway, hey. :D This is WeiYun. For those of you that don't know me, I'm a friend of Cheryl's (isn't that kinda obvious?) and I'm a bit of a nutcase.

For the rest, you can read my posts.

Oh God, that was an introduction, wasn't it? *flails*