OMFG SHU LIN MIGHT BE GOING TO MY SCHOOL NOW. IT'LL BE LIKE CHRISTMAS, NEW YEAR, AND MY BIRTHDAY ROLLED INTO ONE.
WEI YUN IS HAPPY
VERY HAPPY
VERY VERY VERY HAPPY
TRA LA LA LA LA
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
You know that you're insecure when you feel like you can count the things you're really sure about on your fingers and toes. But then again, that would mean that all ToK students are insecure, because they can't be sure about anything.
1) I'm Wei Yun- well, a name is a name, I guess, but am I who I think I am?
2) I have friends (?)
3) I am of reasonable intelligence- no, wait, never mind.
4) My favourite colour is orange. But then again, will it be tomorrow? I'm quite certain but I CAN'T be sure
5) I have books in my room. But then again my sister claims it's OUR room.
Screw the list. I think the only thing I'm REALLY sure about is that I'm insecure.
1) I'm Wei Yun- well, a name is a name, I guess, but am I who I think I am?
2) I have friends (?)
3) I am of reasonable intelligence- no, wait, never mind.
4) My favourite colour is orange. But then again, will it be tomorrow? I'm quite certain but I CAN'T be sure
5) I have books in my room. But then again my sister claims it's OUR room.
Screw the list. I think the only thing I'm REALLY sure about is that I'm insecure.
Friday, November 21, 2008
OMFG
Oral Commentary is in, like, two days.
I'm freaking. Freaking. I don't know what I'm going to get, and that scares me more than anything. The sense of foreboding danger, or possibly foreboding peace? Teetering on the brink between success and failure, poetic justice or dramatic irony?
I'm confused. I'm scared. Panicked. Grade-obsessed. Running up and down yelling.
Finding me.
I'm freaking. Freaking. I don't know what I'm going to get, and that scares me more than anything. The sense of foreboding danger, or possibly foreboding peace? Teetering on the brink between success and failure, poetic justice or dramatic irony?
I'm confused. I'm scared. Panicked. Grade-obsessed. Running up and down yelling.
Finding me.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Musings after a long-missed one-hour conversation:
We do not come as a package. We are a group of friends, but not a buy one-get-nine-free-deal.
"Hate the action, not the person." Pin's philosophy. I adopted it, then threw it out the window. And I needed that reminder desperately after some things that happened yesterday.
My Iago-esque language makes me wonder whether too much English Oral Commentary has fried my brain. Am I now chicken? Or fried fish? At least I'd be brain food.
No matter what, I can't find it in myself to be a bitch, and some things in life never change. (:
We do not come as a package. We are a group of friends, but not a buy one-get-nine-free-deal.
"Hate the action, not the person." Pin's philosophy. I adopted it, then threw it out the window. And I needed that reminder desperately after some things that happened yesterday.
My Iago-esque language makes me wonder whether too much English Oral Commentary has fried my brain. Am I now chicken? Or fried fish? At least I'd be brain food.
No matter what, I can't find it in myself to be a bitch, and some things in life never change. (:
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I realize that this blog has lasted longer than I thought it would.
The pages of the calendar ripping, slipping, flying from their frame, tossed away by the breath of procrastination and torn apart by the hands of time. From the seconds spent in front of my PC to the minutes in the airport, to the hours inside the seminar room in Cambridge sitting next to Katie, Claudia, Sara, Adela while blogging about life. All whisked away by the days in Liverpool where I sat in bed alone, tired of nothing and missing company desperately, lying when I said to people that "no, I'm fine and happy". Lies, lies, all lies, like the whispers of dreams of friends long gone that call to me at night, tugging at the ends of my lips and pulling them up, shifting them down, the fairy dust that preens my eyes with peppers and leaves them stained with tears, the last shrieks of a nightmare that was howling, screaming through my world and left me speechless in the morning.
Never did I think that I could miss a place, a name, a group of people so badly, did I think that there would come a time where I would just think of a time in my past and find my insides wrenching inside out, outside in, black shadows of joy and happiness returning to haunt me as I bite my lip almost hard enough to taste blood. The wind outside my window rings through the night, and as I lift an arm to rub the aching back of my neck, I wonder: Do my friends from Cambridge hear the same things at night now that autumn is here for them? And as I think about it, I ask myself if it's scary: is anybody still as sick for the place that was their home for a month as I am now?
Jas asked me whether I was all right when I arrived at school. Apparently, it's obvious when I'm not feeling right because my mouth reveals all, whether through the words that pass through its lips or the way they curve upwards or downwards according to whether my heart has plunged into my stomach or soaring to the sky. She asked once, asked again. Then she asked with her eyes this time, that look that reads "are you okay?" that only friends can recognize. I wanted to lie. Wanted to hide what was bothering me, bludgeoning towards me like the courage of a black stone horse. But... I can't.
So I told her the truth.
"Cambridge," I said, with a dismissive little laugh. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to get in."
Reassuring gestures, friendly encouraging smile. Of course I'd be fine, she told me. And even if I didn't do as well as I hoped, I'd been accepted into King's College London, which, in its own right, is an amazing school, silver gilded with traces of gold, a necklace hung around my neck that I would get to keep even if I didn't find my pearls. I knew, I know. I agree, I fathom, I comprehend. I don't have to worry about finances, the course, or whether I can enter university in the first place, unlike millions of people that have their hopes dashed by the promise of low grades or the cynicism of bills.
What I am worried about is the dream. The dream that I once held that materialized into a reality, then vanished again into a smoke of ash as Adela and Paul walked out from Chapel Court, the reality sinking in that this was a place that I would have to leave for good. The dream that trickled away with traces of bittersweet honey as I cried to Josi, only to have to say good-bye to her as tears started to trickle down my eyes again. The dream that slowly crumbled, fell, as I departed Jesus College for the last time that day, out of the chimmney and into the park, down to the bus station as I gave the person that sent me off a friendly wave goodbye.
The dream that I know is there, that keeps me alive with the promise that I may walk those halls again. What is the first thing I will do if I arrive in Jesus? I ask myself from time to time, and I decided that I would take photos. Photos of the remnants of our former haunt, the same place without the people that made it what it was. Genni and Michela in Clowns, a message to Adela that I'm sure she'd like to be sealed in an envelope and sent from our hearts. M staircase with inhabitants instead of the staff, the Beast and its furriness nowhere to be seen. Photographs, hollow shells of the memories that were, preserved in time and space forever but devoid of experience's soul. And then, I think I'll cry. Cry for happiness at the realization of a wish, for sadness at the people that aren't there with me, for the simple reason that I'll need hot stinging tears to remind myself that this isn't just an illusion, it's real, as real as the month that went by in the summer.
But then again, all I have to hang on to is hope. Blind optimism. Faith is slowly slipping away, leaving back the tails of her long white dress.
The next page on the calendar tears.
The pages of the calendar ripping, slipping, flying from their frame, tossed away by the breath of procrastination and torn apart by the hands of time. From the seconds spent in front of my PC to the minutes in the airport, to the hours inside the seminar room in Cambridge sitting next to Katie, Claudia, Sara, Adela while blogging about life. All whisked away by the days in Liverpool where I sat in bed alone, tired of nothing and missing company desperately, lying when I said to people that "no, I'm fine and happy". Lies, lies, all lies, like the whispers of dreams of friends long gone that call to me at night, tugging at the ends of my lips and pulling them up, shifting them down, the fairy dust that preens my eyes with peppers and leaves them stained with tears, the last shrieks of a nightmare that was howling, screaming through my world and left me speechless in the morning.
Never did I think that I could miss a place, a name, a group of people so badly, did I think that there would come a time where I would just think of a time in my past and find my insides wrenching inside out, outside in, black shadows of joy and happiness returning to haunt me as I bite my lip almost hard enough to taste blood. The wind outside my window rings through the night, and as I lift an arm to rub the aching back of my neck, I wonder: Do my friends from Cambridge hear the same things at night now that autumn is here for them? And as I think about it, I ask myself if it's scary: is anybody still as sick for the place that was their home for a month as I am now?
Jas asked me whether I was all right when I arrived at school. Apparently, it's obvious when I'm not feeling right because my mouth reveals all, whether through the words that pass through its lips or the way they curve upwards or downwards according to whether my heart has plunged into my stomach or soaring to the sky. She asked once, asked again. Then she asked with her eyes this time, that look that reads "are you okay?" that only friends can recognize. I wanted to lie. Wanted to hide what was bothering me, bludgeoning towards me like the courage of a black stone horse. But... I can't.
So I told her the truth.
"Cambridge," I said, with a dismissive little laugh. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to get in."
Reassuring gestures, friendly encouraging smile. Of course I'd be fine, she told me. And even if I didn't do as well as I hoped, I'd been accepted into King's College London, which, in its own right, is an amazing school, silver gilded with traces of gold, a necklace hung around my neck that I would get to keep even if I didn't find my pearls. I knew, I know. I agree, I fathom, I comprehend. I don't have to worry about finances, the course, or whether I can enter university in the first place, unlike millions of people that have their hopes dashed by the promise of low grades or the cynicism of bills.
What I am worried about is the dream. The dream that I once held that materialized into a reality, then vanished again into a smoke of ash as Adela and Paul walked out from Chapel Court, the reality sinking in that this was a place that I would have to leave for good. The dream that trickled away with traces of bittersweet honey as I cried to Josi, only to have to say good-bye to her as tears started to trickle down my eyes again. The dream that slowly crumbled, fell, as I departed Jesus College for the last time that day, out of the chimmney and into the park, down to the bus station as I gave the person that sent me off a friendly wave goodbye.
The dream that I know is there, that keeps me alive with the promise that I may walk those halls again. What is the first thing I will do if I arrive in Jesus? I ask myself from time to time, and I decided that I would take photos. Photos of the remnants of our former haunt, the same place without the people that made it what it was. Genni and Michela in Clowns, a message to Adela that I'm sure she'd like to be sealed in an envelope and sent from our hearts. M staircase with inhabitants instead of the staff, the Beast and its furriness nowhere to be seen. Photographs, hollow shells of the memories that were, preserved in time and space forever but devoid of experience's soul. And then, I think I'll cry. Cry for happiness at the realization of a wish, for sadness at the people that aren't there with me, for the simple reason that I'll need hot stinging tears to remind myself that this isn't just an illusion, it's real, as real as the month that went by in the summer.
But then again, all I have to hang on to is hope. Blind optimism. Faith is slowly slipping away, leaving back the tails of her long white dress.
The next page on the calendar tears.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
"'POETRY', Wordsworth reminds us, 'is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings', and there can be no area of human experience that has generated a wider range of powerful feelings than war: hope and fear; exhilaration and humiliation; hatred - not only for the enemy, but also for generals, politicians, and war-profiteers; love - for fellow soldiers, for women and children left behind, for country (often) and cause (occasionally)." (p.xix)
Thank you to Sarah SC for this beautiful quote. *loves*
Thank you to Sarah SC for this beautiful quote. *loves*
Thursday, November 13, 2008
To Jing Min in the library today:
The thing is, there are a few people I didn't realize WERE actually reading the blog that are- and that's because I sent them invitations and they never commented, so I realized it should be okay right? Well apparently not, because now I'm all paranoid one or two of them will read the random thoughts post and get offended. It's so disjointed and so random but there are one or two things, several things that certain people might take offense to, namely one or two people like ( ) and ( ) and that kinda bugs me, I guess? Stupid as it may seem.
I mean, YOU knew who some of those things were about. So yeah. Just goes to show how blindingly obvious I am. (:
i dont know exactly. i can guess, but i dont KNOW.
The fact that you can guess... Shows the fact that the exact people involved might be able to guess. And ( ) and I are just beginning to talk normally again, and ( ) is my friend and I don't want to hurt her...
But I don't like the idea of having to hold things back. There's this thing on deviantArt called Shout it Out, on which you get to shout out everything you've been holding in on a piece of artwork and I did a while back. When I wrote that random thoughts post, I felt almost as liberated, as free, and I don't know. It's just the fact that I'm not holding things in anymore, the fact that there are things that have been ebbing at me for ages that are now out in the air... It feels good.
Very good.
No, I think I'll keep the post. If they have a problem with it ( ), ( ) and ( ) have the guts and the level of friendship with me to bring it to my face, not bitch about me behind my back. Yeah.
hhhaa. yup.
The thing is, there are a few people I didn't realize WERE actually reading the blog that are- and that's because I sent them invitations and they never commented, so I realized it should be okay right? Well apparently not, because now I'm all paranoid one or two of them will read the random thoughts post and get offended. It's so disjointed and so random but there are one or two things, several things that certain people might take offense to, namely one or two people like ( ) and ( ) and that kinda bugs me, I guess? Stupid as it may seem.
I mean, YOU knew who some of those things were about. So yeah. Just goes to show how blindingly obvious I am. (:
i dont know exactly. i can guess, but i dont KNOW.
The fact that you can guess... Shows the fact that the exact people involved might be able to guess. And ( ) and I are just beginning to talk normally again, and ( ) is my friend and I don't want to hurt her...
But I don't like the idea of having to hold things back. There's this thing on deviantArt called Shout it Out, on which you get to shout out everything you've been holding in on a piece of artwork and I did a while back. When I wrote that random thoughts post, I felt almost as liberated, as free, and I don't know. It's just the fact that I'm not holding things in anymore, the fact that there are things that have been ebbing at me for ages that are now out in the air... It feels good.
Very good.
No, I think I'll keep the post. If they have a problem with it ( ), ( ) and ( ) have the guts and the level of friendship with me to bring it to my face, not bitch about me behind my back. Yeah.
hhhaa. yup.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
[copied and pasted from The Crew's blog]
A conversation in English class this time last week:
Mr. Walton: And the hawk's species lends it a certain majesty. It is a great animal, better so than a-
Someone: A pigeon? :D
Mr. Walton: Yes, a pigeon! But you know, pigeons in the UK can be vicious.
Wei Yun: Pigeons in Malaysia aren't. XD
Mr. Walton: Well, we should test that theory. Why don't we put Darren on the field and wait for ow long it takes for the Malaysian pigeons to attack him. He shall henceforth be known as.... Pigeon Bait.
Everyone: ROFLMAO MUAHAHAHA
Hence the beginning of a lot of jokes about Darren and his pigeon-ness, which culminated today in the giving of a poem to the class by Mr. Walton. We were told to annotate it.
Because. You know... I wrote Darren a poem to express my love for him.
His goon-like manners, his perpetual grin, and...
The fact that he is sheer pigeon bait.
Enjoy.
And mock Darren.
1 Like an inverted ink-stain they raged towards me
2 Swatting their wings, pecking diamond beaks.
3 They were lions to red meat, wolves to lame sheep-
4 Prey surrounded in my sea of artificial green.
5 Lunging with spears, the pigeons charged
6 As though they were soldiers on the battlefield of chance.
7 They had seen their unsuspecting victim
8 Alone on the night-watch, and barged,
9 Suffocating me by flurry of sulphur and gas,
10 They fired their guns, raging, angry, crass;
11 Stumbling yelling very unmanly shrieking,
12 Fumbling for my gas-mask of death's escape:
13 A crumbled cookie, tossed past the horizon-
14 And they retreated; oh, if this had been the War,
15 They would be shot at dawn,
16 The firing squad's order zooming, rushing past the lawn.
17 Several moons later, beaten, broken, bruised,
18 I found myself again on that man-made turf.
19 The predators were nowhere to be found,
20 Until I heard that ungodly pecking sound-
21 On mud-dashed scrambling trodden emerald green
22 Did I see the pigeon's broken blood pour,
23 Did I see its wan wings and swollen belly
24 Crash and fall into shaken dust.
25 They will attack me no more.
Guiding questions: With reference to the 'artificial turf', what is the exact brand of cookie that the persona (henceforth referred to as Goony) threw?
Name the exact reason that Goony was attacked by pigeons. Clue: Goony-ness.
A conversation in English class this time last week:
Mr. Walton: And the hawk's species lends it a certain majesty. It is a great animal, better so than a-
Someone: A pigeon? :D
Mr. Walton: Yes, a pigeon! But you know, pigeons in the UK can be vicious.
Wei Yun: Pigeons in Malaysia aren't. XD
Mr. Walton: Well, we should test that theory. Why don't we put Darren on the field and wait for ow long it takes for the Malaysian pigeons to attack him. He shall henceforth be known as.... Pigeon Bait.
Everyone: ROFLMAO MUAHAHAHA
Hence the beginning of a lot of jokes about Darren and his pigeon-ness, which culminated today in the giving of a poem to the class by Mr. Walton. We were told to annotate it.
Because. You know... I wrote Darren a poem to express my love for him.
His goon-like manners, his perpetual grin, and...
The fact that he is sheer pigeon bait.
Enjoy.
And mock Darren.
The Pigeons
To Darren Goon
1 Like an inverted ink-stain they raged towards me
2 Swatting their wings, pecking diamond beaks.
3 They were lions to red meat, wolves to lame sheep-
4 Prey surrounded in my sea of artificial green.
5 Lunging with spears, the pigeons charged
6 As though they were soldiers on the battlefield of chance.
7 They had seen their unsuspecting victim
8 Alone on the night-watch, and barged,
9 Suffocating me by flurry of sulphur and gas,
10 They fired their guns, raging, angry, crass;
11 Stumbling yelling very unmanly shrieking,
12 Fumbling for my gas-mask of death's escape:
13 A crumbled cookie, tossed past the horizon-
14 And they retreated; oh, if this had been the War,
15 They would be shot at dawn,
16 The firing squad's order zooming, rushing past the lawn.
17 Several moons later, beaten, broken, bruised,
18 I found myself again on that man-made turf.
19 The predators were nowhere to be found,
20 Until I heard that ungodly pecking sound-
21 On mud-dashed scrambling trodden emerald green
22 Did I see the pigeon's broken blood pour,
23 Did I see its wan wings and swollen belly
24 Crash and fall into shaken dust.
25 They will attack me no more.
Guiding questions: With reference to the 'artificial turf', what is the exact brand of cookie that the persona (henceforth referred to as Goony) threw?
Name the exact reason that Goony was attacked by pigeons. Clue: Goony-ness.
Monday, November 10, 2008
I don't want this moment to ever end
Where everythings nothing without you
I'll wait here forever just to, to see you smile
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you
Through it all, I made my mistakes
I stumble and fall, but I mean these words
I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
Thoughts read unspoken, forever in doubt
Pieces of memories fall to the ground
I know what I didn't have so, I won't let this go
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you
All the streets where I walked alone, with nowhere to go
I've come to an end
I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you don't know what you're looking to find
In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you just never know what you will find (what you will find)
I don't want this moment to ever end
Where everythings nothing without you
I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go (I want you to know)
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
Sum 41- With You lyrics.
Much as I don't want to admit it, I think that I'm one of the many girls that wish that this song had been written for them... And yeah. I do want to fall in love.
Some day.
"When I get drunk, I want to get drunk as in really really drunk! I want to get so drunk that I can't get any more drunk, and then I want to keep drinking some more and just drown myself in the drunkeness..."
Where everythings nothing without you
I'll wait here forever just to, to see you smile
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you
Through it all, I made my mistakes
I stumble and fall, but I mean these words
I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
Thoughts read unspoken, forever in doubt
Pieces of memories fall to the ground
I know what I didn't have so, I won't let this go
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you
All the streets where I walked alone, with nowhere to go
I've come to an end
I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you don't know what you're looking to find
In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you just never know what you will find (what you will find)
I don't want this moment to ever end
Where everythings nothing without you
I want you to know
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go (I want you to know)
With everything I won't let this go, these words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment you know, 'as I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
Sum 41- With You lyrics.
Much as I don't want to admit it, I think that I'm one of the many girls that wish that this song had been written for them... And yeah. I do want to fall in love.
Some day.
"When I get drunk, I want to get drunk as in really really drunk! I want to get so drunk that I can't get any more drunk, and then I want to keep drinking some more and just drown myself in the drunkeness..."
I've been an avid reader of PostSecret for a while, but I've never sent a secret in... Mainly because I'm lazy, but I do have my little secrets that nobody knows about. You probably don't want to know some of them because they're just so random. (: And I like keeping stuff to myself once in a while.
Not big things, just the little things, you know?
Anyway I was surfing the PostSecret Community forums and stumbled upon a thread where teenagers could post their secrets. I decided to take a look and... Well... Let's just say that I realized, in so many ways, I am not alone.
Here are some secrets that people posted that would have been relevant to me in the past. No, nothing NOW, of course :P Some things deserve to be on nothing but a totally private blog... Which I may create. And open it to me and me only.
Note that I did not check any of these for grammar. Haha.
"I am scared of dying.
its scary to have to realize that the earth could disappear, humanity gone and forgotten, at any time.
i think about it, even obsess over it, everyday."
"I'm no ones best friend... and it scares me thinking about it. I'm no ones favorite person."
" I am jealous of my cousin. She has everything, I have nothing. "
"I really want to be the person that changes your life for the better"
"I don't dare tell anyone the "strange" things about me for fear they'll leave me or make fun of me for it. I wonder if anyone will not only find but accept the real me sometime."
"its really depressing not knowing who your true friend is, also its embarrassing to put your all into a friendship just to get it shoved back in ur face in mockery. "
"my biggest fear is abandonment.
I'm constantly afraid that everything that is going well for me will eventually fade, and there will be nothing left except memories that will hurt to think about."
And that's why if you haven't noticed, the blog is private. Again. (:
Maybe I DO need a private-private-private blog. HAHA.
Not big things, just the little things, you know?
Anyway I was surfing the PostSecret Community forums and stumbled upon a thread where teenagers could post their secrets. I decided to take a look and... Well... Let's just say that I realized, in so many ways, I am not alone.
Here are some secrets that people posted that would have been relevant to me in the past. No, nothing NOW, of course :P Some things deserve to be on nothing but a totally private blog... Which I may create. And open it to me and me only.
Note that I did not check any of these for grammar. Haha.
"I am scared of dying.
its scary to have to realize that the earth could disappear, humanity gone and forgotten, at any time.
i think about it, even obsess over it, everyday."
"I'm no ones best friend... and it scares me thinking about it. I'm no ones favorite person."
" I am jealous of my cousin. She has everything, I have nothing. "
"I really want to be the person that changes your life for the better"
"I don't dare tell anyone the "strange" things about me for fear they'll leave me or make fun of me for it. I wonder if anyone will not only find but accept the real me sometime."
"its really depressing not knowing who your true friend is, also its embarrassing to put your all into a friendship just to get it shoved back in ur face in mockery. "
"my biggest fear is abandonment.
I'm constantly afraid that everything that is going well for me will eventually fade, and there will be nothing left except memories that will hurt to think about."
And that's why if you haven't noticed, the blog is private. Again. (:
Maybe I DO need a private-private-private blog. HAHA.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Deliberately disorganized thoughts: YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Friendship and trust. Fragments of what you once believed in, things that you've wanted for a long time but now you've gotten what you felt like, gotten what you want.
Uncalled-for jealousy. I feel like I'm in the situation I was in a few years ago.
Word war on the Internet. People screaming at each other from different sides of a continent, picking each other to bits at this and that.
My best friend. Mine mine mine mine mine.
People think that they know the extent that I care, but they don't because there are some things that can only be written, not said.
Part of me misses having just ONE friend that I hung out with 24-7.
Liyun wants to talk on the phone again. And so do I, but I was scared that I'd be pulling her away from her exams. The fact that she says that I would help her de-stress makes me smile.
Another part of me is still bitter.
Sometimes when I think of writing about Cheryl (the character, not the person), the more I write about what she did when she picked Edward (the character, not the person), the more I realize how many parallels run through my mind, my life and my writing.
I knew her first, and I think she cares for all of us equally, but you wish she was your special friend and I don't want to feel like I'm extra baggage.
Sometimes I don't think I'm Gina anymore. Or maybe I'm still Gina- no wait I still am Gina. With pieces of Callum beginning to slip in.
I realized that nobody will know what I am talking about in this post. But I don't care.
If I ever write one of THE stories, there are about fifty people I know that could sue and would have every right to because of the borrowed anecdotes I stole from my life and theirs. Though a lot of it was unintentional- it just happened.
I annoy people, I want to ask, but I know I won't get an honest answer.
I don't want things to end.
I think that part of me writes and puts THOSE things in because I'm bitter/morbid/evil/just wanting to make the story more interesting.
She'd know if she read it. She'd know which characters I put parts of her in. It's so obvious it's a little scary.
With Me by Sum 41 is a good song.
I was happy this morning, then I got tired and started to emo.
Would people want to know, actually? Which character I based partially or totally on them?
Apparently it's obvious when I'm sad.
We're all attention-seeking. Freud would be proud.
If it had been me, would you have done the same thing?
I don't know whether it's right that I'm relieved.
I miss Sarah. A lot. Wish you had been here today.
Pigeons fly. More than people think they do.
Mr. Walton makes me smile.
When I didn't have the Internet, I missed dA. I missed iAV. I missed my e-mail. But most of all, I missed Facebook.
I don't appreciate what I have and I know it, but sometimes I feel as if I have nothing which is absolute bullshit because I don't.
After three years of laughing and sharing and caring, I don't want it to end like it did, like it did over the summer and I won't see any of them again and we barely get to talk and when I think of it it makes me want to cry sometimes but I know it's stupid and none of them feel that way so WHY DO I?
I finished a Maths test before KS on Friday. I feel extremely proud of myself, even though I did the test before. But oh well, let me be happy.
I want to have someone to cuddle. Maybe a stuffed toy.
Gina is a fun character to write about sometimes but there are times when I feel like she hits way too close to home.
I am obsessed with the random stories I come up with.
The person is fine.
I wish that I could block thoughts of a person out of my head.
And I wish that I could do some more for you, tell you how much it all means that you've bothered to hold me through my laughter and tears-
I kind of want people to ask about this post and what it's all about.
Then again, I don't think I do.
Writing out random thoughts, then jumbling them up is fun. (:
Friendship and trust. Fragments of what you once believed in, things that you've wanted for a long time but now you've gotten what you felt like, gotten what you want.
Uncalled-for jealousy. I feel like I'm in the situation I was in a few years ago.
Word war on the Internet. People screaming at each other from different sides of a continent, picking each other to bits at this and that.
My best friend. Mine mine mine mine mine.
People think that they know the extent that I care, but they don't because there are some things that can only be written, not said.
Part of me misses having just ONE friend that I hung out with 24-7.
Liyun wants to talk on the phone again. And so do I, but I was scared that I'd be pulling her away from her exams. The fact that she says that I would help her de-stress makes me smile.
Another part of me is still bitter.
Sometimes when I think of writing about Cheryl (the character, not the person), the more I write about what she did when she picked Edward (the character, not the person), the more I realize how many parallels run through my mind, my life and my writing.
I knew her first, and I think she cares for all of us equally, but you wish she was your special friend and I don't want to feel like I'm extra baggage.
Sometimes I don't think I'm Gina anymore. Or maybe I'm still Gina- no wait I still am Gina. With pieces of Callum beginning to slip in.
I realized that nobody will know what I am talking about in this post. But I don't care.
If I ever write one of THE stories, there are about fifty people I know that could sue and would have every right to because of the borrowed anecdotes I stole from my life and theirs. Though a lot of it was unintentional- it just happened.
I annoy people, I want to ask, but I know I won't get an honest answer.
I don't want things to end.
I think that part of me writes and puts THOSE things in because I'm bitter/morbid/evil/just wanting to make the story more interesting.
She'd know if she read it. She'd know which characters I put parts of her in. It's so obvious it's a little scary.
With Me by Sum 41 is a good song.
I was happy this morning, then I got tired and started to emo.
Would people want to know, actually? Which character I based partially or totally on them?
Apparently it's obvious when I'm sad.
We're all attention-seeking. Freud would be proud.
If it had been me, would you have done the same thing?
I don't know whether it's right that I'm relieved.
I miss Sarah. A lot. Wish you had been here today.
Pigeons fly. More than people think they do.
Mr. Walton makes me smile.
When I didn't have the Internet, I missed dA. I missed iAV. I missed my e-mail. But most of all, I missed Facebook.
I don't appreciate what I have and I know it, but sometimes I feel as if I have nothing which is absolute bullshit because I don't.
After three years of laughing and sharing and caring, I don't want it to end like it did, like it did over the summer and I won't see any of them again and we barely get to talk and when I think of it it makes me want to cry sometimes but I know it's stupid and none of them feel that way so WHY DO I?
I finished a Maths test before KS on Friday. I feel extremely proud of myself, even though I did the test before. But oh well, let me be happy.
I want to have someone to cuddle. Maybe a stuffed toy.
Gina is a fun character to write about sometimes but there are times when I feel like she hits way too close to home.
I am obsessed with the random stories I come up with.
The person is fine.
I wish that I could block thoughts of a person out of my head.
And I wish that I could do some more for you, tell you how much it all means that you've bothered to hold me through my laughter and tears-
I kind of want people to ask about this post and what it's all about.
Then again, I don't think I do.
Writing out random thoughts, then jumbling them up is fun. (:
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
"Some people say that true freedom is having nothing left to lose. They say that you can't release your inhibitions, give everything up, fling caution to the wind unless you've lost all sense of belonging, all sense of what it is to feel. Unless you've been so broken, so battered that you've lost all ability to care.
I say screw that notion. Freedom is when you've got the rest of eternity in front of you, the very strings of time dangling in your face, the tendrils of life and everything that came with it before your eyes to manipulate, to toy with at your own will. The world becomes your oyster, almost literally, and slowly, as the lights start to dim on and the walls start to fade, you find that the sky, which you always thought was the extent of freedom and expression, was never enough.
The sky is the limit? I'm sure."
I say screw that notion. Freedom is when you've got the rest of eternity in front of you, the very strings of time dangling in your face, the tendrils of life and everything that came with it before your eyes to manipulate, to toy with at your own will. The world becomes your oyster, almost literally, and slowly, as the lights start to dim on and the walls start to fade, you find that the sky, which you always thought was the extent of freedom and expression, was never enough.
The sky is the limit? I'm sure."
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Probably inspired by Sarah SC:
Let me paint you a nightmare-
Unweave the gossamer bed sheets
Unravel the bound vestiges of
Love that
Scream as they bend and break,
Let me puppet your horror-
Rip apart the shreds that hold together
Your breaking dawn.
And over it a layer of darkness shall sit,
Suffocating the wispy smiling of the
Sun;
A hollow laugh,
Stretching away the
curling of your
lips,
Pinching away the final
tendrils of your
Smile.
Let me paint you a nightmare-
Unweave the gossamer bed sheets
Unravel the bound vestiges of
Love that
Scream as they bend and break,
Let me puppet your horror-
Rip apart the shreds that hold together
Your breaking dawn.
And over it a layer of darkness shall sit,
Suffocating the wispy smiling of the
Sun;
A hollow laugh,
Stretching away the
curling of your
lips,
Pinching away the final
tendrils of your
Smile.
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