You know I was thinking of that Lit S question, the bit about there are standards in villany as well.
Is very true!
My ideal villian has to be someone intelligent. Snape comes to mind. But yes I cannot settle for big brawny villians because they are quite simply, fit for nothing more than henchmen work. It is the brains that set the standard for villany. The evil mastermind, the insidious double-crosser, the sneaky thief. I used to play Tenchu on the PS, and once you've played that game you'll realize that simple hack and slash is no fun! It's creeping behind your prey, slitting his throat from behind, killing him so efficiently and silently that he'll never know what hit him, and leaving without a trace.
My ideal villian has elegance about him. His plots and schemes work flawlessly, they flow from planned event to orchestrated situation, leaving a trail of subtle deceit. He has every situation mapped out, has considered all possible circumstances and has weaved his intricate web of deceit seamlessly. And so from a seemingly simple act, the ideal villian will steer events along his planned route, leading whosoever he desires to play his designated role in the grand scheme. Cunning and charisma are his weapons, not brute strength and a scary physique. The ideal villian manipulates, he does not maim. He plants the seeds, and lets evil take root and grow.
And so I was telling Uni once that if I had to be an animal I would pick a snake. The serpent. Original sin was satan's greatest triumph, and very elegant at that too. In enticing eve to eat the fruit, the serpent planted temptation and doomed man for all eternity.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Happy birthday weixian =)
Anyway I must blog down this scene at rouge.
Was around 10:30 I think, and they started to have this poetry recital in the middle of the club. So the hiphop music toned down, and this really pretty woman, dressed in a shimmering gold top and faded jeans, took the podium. She was carefree in her opening words: "Hello I came all the way from LA, can I have a little more applause?"
And then out came her poems. Her poems weren't the intelligent, short kinds that we're used to doing PC on. They were long, bordering on rambling epics. But they were heartfelt. Her images were beautiful, of playing scales like the rainbow, of God's smile in a clothes line. I remember closing my eyes in the middle of her poem on God and just smiling. No intelligent punchlines, no ending on a climax as purvis advocates.
It was not so much the poems. It was her, her gestures, her voice. She wanted to communicate the beautiful world she saw, to the dark club seething with savage energy. It was her hapless futility that captured my mind.
Did she know what she was doing? Did she? Here was a lady, a woman filled with an appetite for life, someone who saw the brilliance in colours and the vigour in movement. What was she doing, wearing the shimmering gold bareback top, standing on a podium that would later be filled with sweaty bodies, reciting poetry through speakers that five minutes ago blared bass and sex?
It was tragic. I don't care about the others who came after her, their poems sounded more like rap, it was in synch with the club. They talked of love, freedom, and other ideals in fashion. But here was a woman, the spotlight giving her an almost angelic halo, reciting poetry to nothing more than pretentious applause. Mid-poem she made eye-contact. I looked away. How many others looked away that night, before she found sincerity to hold her gaze?
Anyway I must blog down this scene at rouge.
Was around 10:30 I think, and they started to have this poetry recital in the middle of the club. So the hiphop music toned down, and this really pretty woman, dressed in a shimmering gold top and faded jeans, took the podium. She was carefree in her opening words: "Hello I came all the way from LA, can I have a little more applause?"
And then out came her poems. Her poems weren't the intelligent, short kinds that we're used to doing PC on. They were long, bordering on rambling epics. But they were heartfelt. Her images were beautiful, of playing scales like the rainbow, of God's smile in a clothes line. I remember closing my eyes in the middle of her poem on God and just smiling. No intelligent punchlines, no ending on a climax as purvis advocates.
It was not so much the poems. It was her, her gestures, her voice. She wanted to communicate the beautiful world she saw, to the dark club seething with savage energy. It was her hapless futility that captured my mind.
Did she know what she was doing? Did she? Here was a lady, a woman filled with an appetite for life, someone who saw the brilliance in colours and the vigour in movement. What was she doing, wearing the shimmering gold bareback top, standing on a podium that would later be filled with sweaty bodies, reciting poetry through speakers that five minutes ago blared bass and sex?
It was tragic. I don't care about the others who came after her, their poems sounded more like rap, it was in synch with the club. They talked of love, freedom, and other ideals in fashion. But here was a woman, the spotlight giving her an almost angelic halo, reciting poetry to nothing more than pretentious applause. Mid-poem she made eye-contact. I looked away. How many others looked away that night, before she found sincerity to hold her gaze?
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Sigh I am bored.
Let's see. Simple Plan is playing on the winamp now. You know that song they're playing behind the lost trailer these days? Aye. It's times like this that I realize how bizzare I am. Most people would hear self-piteous songs like this and indulge in them by identifying with the angst. But no, yours truly has to project these feelings onto a figment of imagination, and feel a sudden urge of motherly protectiveness.
I think I was meant to be a mother sometimes.
Anyway, I'm downloading Kidnap The Sandy Claws. Which is such a delightful song I could run around in my room chanting it again and again. They don't make songs like that anymore, like the munchkin song in wizard of Oz that becky/yixun sent me the other day. Or Superfragilackalisticespidelladocious. Mmhmm. Now its all angst or sex.
Oh whoopee it's done-
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS!
Let's see. Simple Plan is playing on the winamp now. You know that song they're playing behind the lost trailer these days? Aye. It's times like this that I realize how bizzare I am. Most people would hear self-piteous songs like this and indulge in them by identifying with the angst. But no, yours truly has to project these feelings onto a figment of imagination, and feel a sudden urge of motherly protectiveness.
I think I was meant to be a mother sometimes.
Anyway, I'm downloading Kidnap The Sandy Claws. Which is such a delightful song I could run around in my room chanting it again and again. They don't make songs like that anymore, like the munchkin song in wizard of Oz that becky/yixun sent me the other day. Or Superfragilackalisticespidelladocious. Mmhmm. Now its all angst or sex.
Oh whoopee it's done-
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS!
I'm sorry but I cannot help this -
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
LOCK HIM UP REAL TIGHT
THROW AWAY THEY KEY AND THEN
TURN OFF ALL THE LIGHTS
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
THROW HIM IN A BOX
BURY HIM FOR NINETY YEARS
THEN SEE IF HE TALKS
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
TIE HIM IN A BAG
THROW HIM IN THE OCEAN THEN
SEE IF HE IS SAD!
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
BEAT HIM WITH A STICK!
LOCK HIM UP FOR NINETY YEARS
SEE WHAT MAKES HIM TICK
Omg. That was therapeutic.
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
LOCK HIM UP REAL TIGHT
THROW AWAY THEY KEY AND THEN
TURN OFF ALL THE LIGHTS
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
THROW HIM IN A BOX
BURY HIM FOR NINETY YEARS
THEN SEE IF HE TALKS
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
TIE HIM IN A BAG
THROW HIM IN THE OCEAN THEN
SEE IF HE IS SAD!
KIDNAP THE SANDY CLAWS
BEAT HIM WITH A STICK!
LOCK HIM UP FOR NINETY YEARS
SEE WHAT MAKES HIM TICK
Omg. That was therapeutic.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Ooh I forgot to blog that - I felt a wave of aggression that day at Chinablack.
You know. When the pug-ugly guy came up with a pug-ugly face and wanted to whack Changwen. Really, such specimens of the human race shouldn't be allowed to exist, it's a disgrace to the rest of our species. I swear if he had done anything I'd have torn his eyes out. And broken his specs. And. I don't know. Mutilate him.
Which is funny, because I've never felt that violent. Must have been the alcohol.
So many Nasty Things have reawakened inside me this year. Sigh.
You know. When the pug-ugly guy came up with a pug-ugly face and wanted to whack Changwen. Really, such specimens of the human race shouldn't be allowed to exist, it's a disgrace to the rest of our species. I swear if he had done anything I'd have torn his eyes out. And broken his specs. And. I don't know. Mutilate him.
Which is funny, because I've never felt that violent. Must have been the alcohol.
So many Nasty Things have reawakened inside me this year. Sigh.
I am terribly sleepy still.
First things first I would like to thank tanyixun for bringing me to Morton's where I've probably had one of the best meals in my freaking 17.99999 years of life. Although there really was too much steak. Hah but I finishd it all I told you I was capable of great things. Along with generous servings of whipped potato and yummy mushrooms and broccoli the size of changwen's head. Souffle for two too!
Second things second I would like to congratulate Laichangwen on finally conquering his dreaded arch-nemesis, Chinablack. You'd think a life-changing club would have better decor though. And better music.
Third things third I have wasted the entire of today sleeping playing maplestory and moping. In other words, anything but studying. Fortunately all is not lost, it is 12AM and is just the perfect time to begin math, which due to its demonic nature is best left to the wee hours of the morning.
There is no fourth.
Now to tackle the life-changing decision:
Maplestory or Math.
The choice is clear.
First things first I would like to thank tanyixun for bringing me to Morton's where I've probably had one of the best meals in my freaking 17.99999 years of life. Although there really was too much steak. Hah but I finishd it all I told you I was capable of great things. Along with generous servings of whipped potato and yummy mushrooms and broccoli the size of changwen's head. Souffle for two too!
Second things second I would like to congratulate Laichangwen on finally conquering his dreaded arch-nemesis, Chinablack. You'd think a life-changing club would have better decor though. And better music.
Third things third I have wasted the entire of today sleeping playing maplestory and moping. In other words, anything but studying. Fortunately all is not lost, it is 12AM and is just the perfect time to begin math, which due to its demonic nature is best left to the wee hours of the morning.
There is no fourth.
Now to tackle the life-changing decision:
Maplestory or Math.
The choice is clear.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
You see, the problem with character change is that you can only do it from within.
No one. Not your friends, not your family, not even your beloved half can make you change successfully.
Because quite simply, we all express ourselves in ways we feel most comfortable. What dictates how comfortable we feel is our world view, how we view ourselves in relation to the world, and how we think the world views us.
And so the only thing that will change the world view is experience. Your peers may seek to alter certain ways in which you express it, but like that stupid law in econs, it's simply addressing a symptom that will manifest itself in other ways when you clamp down on it. The problem isn't in the expression. It is the expressor.
The end result of such engineering will be very contrived, I suspect. Life is complicated enough without having to add another layer between the thought and expression.
There are no shortcuts to change. Character flows with the ebb of time, and the currency of change is experience, or simply - life.
On another note:
It is odd. To come out top in society you must despise it, and society detests you for doing so. Yet if you do not despise society, it will, eventually, come to despise you.
No one. Not your friends, not your family, not even your beloved half can make you change successfully.
Because quite simply, we all express ourselves in ways we feel most comfortable. What dictates how comfortable we feel is our world view, how we view ourselves in relation to the world, and how we think the world views us.
And so the only thing that will change the world view is experience. Your peers may seek to alter certain ways in which you express it, but like that stupid law in econs, it's simply addressing a symptom that will manifest itself in other ways when you clamp down on it. The problem isn't in the expression. It is the expressor.
The end result of such engineering will be very contrived, I suspect. Life is complicated enough without having to add another layer between the thought and expression.
There are no shortcuts to change. Character flows with the ebb of time, and the currency of change is experience, or simply - life.
On another note:
It is odd. To come out top in society you must despise it, and society detests you for doing so. Yet if you do not despise society, it will, eventually, come to despise you.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Since tanyixun refuses to assure me that I am not insipid, I shall come back here to talk to myself again.
Attention span is very short. I feel like sleeping now, again, after spending most of this day doing nothing else but sleeping. Is it possible to be addicted to sleep?
An interesting question. If you notice, all other addictions are, after all, not unlike sleep. Cigarettes, Drugs, Alcohol, they all serve to send us into a state of oblivion where we stop mulling about life. Cough Syrups included. Is sleep, after all, not also a state of oblivion? If so, then is it not also possible that sleep is addictive?
I have stumbled upon a terrible fact of life. That thing we do at night, you know? We have become subconsciously dependant on it. And like all addictions, the more you indulge, the worse it gets. Come to think of it, withdrawal symptoms are quite similar to sleep deprivation symptoms.
This is ridiculous life is now an accumulation of addictions. Does this mean that the meaning of life is to run away from it?
Attention span is very short. I feel like sleeping now, again, after spending most of this day doing nothing else but sleeping. Is it possible to be addicted to sleep?
An interesting question. If you notice, all other addictions are, after all, not unlike sleep. Cigarettes, Drugs, Alcohol, they all serve to send us into a state of oblivion where we stop mulling about life. Cough Syrups included. Is sleep, after all, not also a state of oblivion? If so, then is it not also possible that sleep is addictive?
I have stumbled upon a terrible fact of life. That thing we do at night, you know? We have become subconsciously dependant on it. And like all addictions, the more you indulge, the worse it gets. Come to think of it, withdrawal symptoms are quite similar to sleep deprivation symptoms.
This is ridiculous life is now an accumulation of addictions. Does this mean that the meaning of life is to run away from it?
Today on the treadmill.
You know, treadmills have those little display things in front of you? Where you key in the nonsense like age and whatnot that doesn't really matter anyway? Anyhow, today I was jogging on the treadmill, and I realized that while you jog the machine displays a big red heart, on the display screen that you're constantly jogging towards.
And I burst out laughing.
You know, treadmills have those little display things in front of you? Where you key in the nonsense like age and whatnot that doesn't really matter anyway? Anyhow, today I was jogging on the treadmill, and I realized that while you jog the machine displays a big red heart, on the display screen that you're constantly jogging towards.
And I burst out laughing.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
It's happening again.
Being Aunt Aggie is a very trying job, I should think. I mean, cliched notions of emotional stress aside, one wonders what happens to a person when he hears about the joys and sorrows about everyone else.
For me?
I've come to realize how empty my life is. Sometimes Aunt Aggie wishes she had more problems herself so she wouldn't be sitting at home reading about everyone's problems.
She asks what is wrong. If I can empathise with these people how is it that I don't go through all these life-enriching trials and tribulations that they ungratefully bemoan about?
And then she realizes that empathy is only useful for living life vicariously.
Being Aunt Aggie is a very trying job, I should think. I mean, cliched notions of emotional stress aside, one wonders what happens to a person when he hears about the joys and sorrows about everyone else.
For me?
I've come to realize how empty my life is. Sometimes Aunt Aggie wishes she had more problems herself so she wouldn't be sitting at home reading about everyone's problems.
She asks what is wrong. If I can empathise with these people how is it that I don't go through all these life-enriching trials and tribulations that they ungratefully bemoan about?
And then she realizes that empathy is only useful for living life vicariously.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Moosic maek you lose kontrol!
Yawn I am so bored these National Day holidays have been so unproductive I have bummed at home doing absolutely nothing besides reading 1 chapter of Tarling and 1 history outline and beginning to read George Eliot. I still feel like wrangling the nitwit who stole my sloman, and yes all in all I'm still grumpy.
I did fall asleep in the sun yesterday though so perhaps I could add an accidental tan to my list of productive activities this holiday.
Five Weeks/Thiry Three Days to prelims according to Bao-en's doomsday clock. I feel like whining already lah. I've never felt so unprepared, for a major exam, for O's I'm quite sure I had the syllabus twirling in my fingers a month before prelims. Probably because I actually listened in class and stuff. Sigh. I'm only seventeen! I shouldn't have to deal with this kind of nonsense stress. My life should be mine to live! I shouldn't have to pander to this nonsense paperchase rubbish!
Sigh ok stop. We all know what must be done.
Moosic maek you lose kontrol!
Yawn I am so bored these National Day holidays have been so unproductive I have bummed at home doing absolutely nothing besides reading 1 chapter of Tarling and 1 history outline and beginning to read George Eliot. I still feel like wrangling the nitwit who stole my sloman, and yes all in all I'm still grumpy.
I did fall asleep in the sun yesterday though so perhaps I could add an accidental tan to my list of productive activities this holiday.
Five Weeks/Thiry Three Days to prelims according to Bao-en's doomsday clock. I feel like whining already lah. I've never felt so unprepared, for a major exam, for O's I'm quite sure I had the syllabus twirling in my fingers a month before prelims. Probably because I actually listened in class and stuff. Sigh. I'm only seventeen! I shouldn't have to deal with this kind of nonsense stress. My life should be mine to live! I shouldn't have to pander to this nonsense paperchase rubbish!
Sigh ok stop. We all know what must be done.
Moosic maek you lose kontrol!
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Love changes changes everything
Love makes you fly and break your wings
doo doo doo doo ooh doo!
Love changes changes everything
Love makes the rules from fools to kings
Hahaha what a delightful song! Just makes you want to jump around in your room as though you were a fourteen year old who's just been asked on a date, doesn't it?
Love makes you fly and break your wings
doo doo doo doo ooh doo!
Love changes changes everything
Love makes the rules from fools to kings
Hahaha what a delightful song! Just makes you want to jump around in your room as though you were a fourteen year old who's just been asked on a date, doesn't it?
There is another aim.
Basing itself on similar foundations, when two souls collide, they become so inextricably intertwined that even when the harsh forces of reality tear them apart, neither can say that he has not been changed by the other. That is the aim - to live on in the other, it's like leaving behind offspring, it is another offshoot of that overriding motive that governs life -
Immortality.
Basing itself on similar foundations, when two souls collide, they become so inextricably intertwined that even when the harsh forces of reality tear them apart, neither can say that he has not been changed by the other. That is the aim - to live on in the other, it's like leaving behind offspring, it is another offshoot of that overriding motive that governs life -
Immortality.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Since I am very bored and still refuse to touch statistics, I'm going to see how much nonsense I can write now before I get tired of this.
Let's see. Right, now, I'm listening to Bizarre Love Triangle, you know, the one that goes everytime I see you falling get down on my knees and pray. Dismal, really, I have such a thing for songs that are high pitched and bimbo. For example, the song before this was Love Changes (changes everything) by someone else lah I forgot. But it was nice. I made the tempo quicker using that sound thing I have and now no other song quite captures that heady notion of love for me.
In front of me is Lady Lazarus. Which also reminds me that my LitS is probably going down the ga-gloop drain. I still haven't decided what to do, and after michael informed me that I'm not allowed to do Milan Kundera I'm left with one less option in the exam. Fortunately, it appears that it is one of the last papers in the prelims. Having added Death of a Salesman to my repertoire, perhaps there is time yet.
I have grown very attached to my room. In all certainty, I declare that I could spend the rest of my life cooped up in this cosy little getaway. The arrangement is so personalized sometimes I feel like this little room is an extension of me. It is alive, you know. It has a portrait of scorpio on the southern wall, and it pulsates with electronic bass. The only thing that stops me is the hideous green blinds (green!), and of course, Brian Lagman Ang, who insists that I go to school and waste my life away.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware
That woman is psycho.
And I have gotten tired.
Let's see. Right, now, I'm listening to Bizarre Love Triangle, you know, the one that goes everytime I see you falling get down on my knees and pray. Dismal, really, I have such a thing for songs that are high pitched and bimbo. For example, the song before this was Love Changes (changes everything) by someone else lah I forgot. But it was nice. I made the tempo quicker using that sound thing I have and now no other song quite captures that heady notion of love for me.
In front of me is Lady Lazarus. Which also reminds me that my LitS is probably going down the ga-gloop drain. I still haven't decided what to do, and after michael informed me that I'm not allowed to do Milan Kundera I'm left with one less option in the exam. Fortunately, it appears that it is one of the last papers in the prelims. Having added Death of a Salesman to my repertoire, perhaps there is time yet.
I have grown very attached to my room. In all certainty, I declare that I could spend the rest of my life cooped up in this cosy little getaway. The arrangement is so personalized sometimes I feel like this little room is an extension of me. It is alive, you know. It has a portrait of scorpio on the southern wall, and it pulsates with electronic bass. The only thing that stops me is the hideous green blinds (green!), and of course, Brian Lagman Ang, who insists that I go to school and waste my life away.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware
That woman is psycho.
And I have gotten tired.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
I have realised that perhaps I should move blog, if only to get away from the irritating name of pand3monia which I maturely selected in sec4.
In other news - Boycotting Prom seems like a splendid idea. Of course, that is only IF we get it to work.
First and foremost, while I don't deny the number of people saying they don't want to go prom is high, chances are most of these people are just saying that they're not going because alot of people are complaining and the correct conformist view is thus to boycott prom. However, on the basis of conformity, they will also realise sooner or later that everyone IS intending to go prom after all, and that they were just bitching because, well, JC life is about bitching. Thus chances are that they will also be sheepherded into going for prom.
Of course, this problem can be solved, if an alternative is given early enough. IF, and if, an alternative event is organized now, it can ride on the wave of bitchiness incited by the extravagant $88 that the stupid J1 councillors are charging us, and thus become an overwhelming success! Once a few people start subscribing for the alternative event, the sheepherd instinct plus the price factor will inevitably compel the rest of the population to follow suit.
Unfortunately, this is also the hardest part. No one will organize an alternative, because people are just too darn lazy.
As for me? I think I'll follow the crowd, sit around and bitch. Prom is after all a once-in-a-lifetime thing, even if it is a 88-mother-fucking-dollars thing.
In other news - Boycotting Prom seems like a splendid idea. Of course, that is only IF we get it to work.
First and foremost, while I don't deny the number of people saying they don't want to go prom is high, chances are most of these people are just saying that they're not going because alot of people are complaining and the correct conformist view is thus to boycott prom. However, on the basis of conformity, they will also realise sooner or later that everyone IS intending to go prom after all, and that they were just bitching because, well, JC life is about bitching. Thus chances are that they will also be sheepherded into going for prom.
Of course, this problem can be solved, if an alternative is given early enough. IF, and if, an alternative event is organized now, it can ride on the wave of bitchiness incited by the extravagant $88 that the stupid J1 councillors are charging us, and thus become an overwhelming success! Once a few people start subscribing for the alternative event, the sheepherd instinct plus the price factor will inevitably compel the rest of the population to follow suit.
Unfortunately, this is also the hardest part. No one will organize an alternative, because people are just too darn lazy.
As for me? I think I'll follow the crowd, sit around and bitch. Prom is after all a once-in-a-lifetime thing, even if it is a 88-mother-fucking-dollars thing.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
You know, they had it right in the time of sorcery.
Pissed off? Conjure up a fireball and incinerate those irritants! Bored with life? Go slay a dragon! Adolescent problems? Go jousting or save a damsel in distress!
This is the appeal of the online MMORPG. It is the chance to create a life, and solve all its problems with a set of ready-made solutions. All through the reflective monitor screen.
Oh, if only I had the power to conjure fireballs. Or rise from the dead like Lady Lazarus -
And I eat men like air.
Mm. Yummy. *burp*
Pissed off? Conjure up a fireball and incinerate those irritants! Bored with life? Go slay a dragon! Adolescent problems? Go jousting or save a damsel in distress!
This is the appeal of the online MMORPG. It is the chance to create a life, and solve all its problems with a set of ready-made solutions. All through the reflective monitor screen.
Oh, if only I had the power to conjure fireballs. Or rise from the dead like Lady Lazarus -
And I eat men like air.
Mm. Yummy. *burp*
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Ey ey ey ey ey ey ey ey.
I finished heart of darkness.
Apart from that, today has been happily unproductive, because my father doesn't want to teach me math. I have this sudden urge to go to school, and I am quite shocked. This is quite hopeless lah solitude is unbearable and the social scene is intolerable. Two ends of a string, with love dangling tensely in the middle.
Tomorrow then, I shall to go school and shuffle down the line.
Of course I must first figure out how to deal with the Case Of The Missing MC.
I finished heart of darkness.
Apart from that, today has been happily unproductive, because my father doesn't want to teach me math. I have this sudden urge to go to school, and I am quite shocked. This is quite hopeless lah solitude is unbearable and the social scene is intolerable. Two ends of a string, with love dangling tensely in the middle.
Tomorrow then, I shall to go school and shuffle down the line.
Of course I must first figure out how to deal with the Case Of The Missing MC.
This is most annoying
My father has found some erratic way to block Maplestory which has annoyed me to no end. To pay him back I shall spend the rest of the day figuring exactly how to get round this technological barrier he has imposed, and therefore, NOT studying.
See if you had just left it at that I would have played for about 4 hours and then gone happily off to Integration.
This is all your fault, Mr. Ng Tze Beng.
My father has found some erratic way to block Maplestory which has annoyed me to no end. To pay him back I shall spend the rest of the day figuring exactly how to get round this technological barrier he has imposed, and therefore, NOT studying.
See if you had just left it at that I would have played for about 4 hours and then gone happily off to Integration.
This is all your fault, Mr. Ng Tze Beng.
Monday, August 01, 2005
It is interesting to hear about the social structure of our juniors. To note the similarities, the petty differences, and all in all, to see how similarly (or differently) two batches of Junior College students can turn out.
You know, I scare myself. Booth was telling us, in heart of darkness, about this "first cause" that turns its light and dark side. Sometimes I think I struggle inside as well, I have a heart that's continually rotating on its axis showing different sides at different times. I can love someone one minute and curse him bitterly the other. I can be all smiles and all dagger stares the next. I attribute it to PMS jokingly most of the time, but I know that's just an excuse, albeit a rather appropriate one.
It is quite scary though. Booth was also telling us about how those who are sensitive, those who understand and believe in the ideals are Also the most vulnerable to savagery and violence (i.e. Kurtz), ala "extermine the brutes". Aiee what if you're right what if I grow up to be a psycho killer.
Imagine me laughing manically over some mutilated body, leaving a trademark sign carved in flesh and inscribing it on the walls in blood.
This is terrible.
You know, I scare myself. Booth was telling us, in heart of darkness, about this "first cause" that turns its light and dark side. Sometimes I think I struggle inside as well, I have a heart that's continually rotating on its axis showing different sides at different times. I can love someone one minute and curse him bitterly the other. I can be all smiles and all dagger stares the next. I attribute it to PMS jokingly most of the time, but I know that's just an excuse, albeit a rather appropriate one.
It is quite scary though. Booth was also telling us about how those who are sensitive, those who understand and believe in the ideals are Also the most vulnerable to savagery and violence (i.e. Kurtz), ala "extermine the brutes". Aiee what if you're right what if I grow up to be a psycho killer.
Imagine me laughing manically over some mutilated body, leaving a trademark sign carved in flesh and inscribing it on the walls in blood.
This is terrible.