So I'll update before Charmaine takes complete control over my poor tag board.
I went to church camp, took too many random pictures that I like to think are artistic and then changed my glasses while I was at it.

And I'm gonna post everything on LJ, just because.

NEATSBRIBBLES

It's not friend locked. Don't ask.

Well. So I've created an LJ.
Really. It's pointless and made because I was bored. And because I kinda like LJ better.
So.

NEATSCRIBBLES

I forgot to friend lock the most recent post. But I will do it, really.
And if you have an LJ then add me. And yes, I'm talking about you, Charmaine chew.
Because I really can't find anyone's LJ and don't have the patience to do it.

But normal things about life and random things will be posted here too.
The LJ is more for thoughs and different random things. Or whatever.
So yeah, go see.

So, I'm sick.
Really sick and it's the first time in my life that I'm missing exams.
And it really sucks to be sick. I'm coughing every few seconds and it's driving me up the wall.

Would you believe it, I've only been eating porridge, plain white porridge because the doctor said so. And I think I'll throw up if I have to eat it again tomorrow. Even though I probably will have to eat it anyway.

But something that has made me very happy is the fact that my book has come. Tablo's book~
I'm happy with it, even though it has a healthy sprinkling of words that shouldn't be given to children to read. I've read it twice through and I love it, really, really love it. I may not understand everything he writes but I try my best.
So since I'm bored, I'm gonna write something on some of the stories I liked most.
(Just a note: You won't understand a work of this if you don't read the book so you can either buy it or just ignore this)

Andante

I liked this - just was a little confused at the front - I think it's beautiful, the way Tablo uses the piano playing as a key element in the narrator's life and how he uses it to vent and to express his emotions. The relationship between the father and son was written so well and I could almost see it because it felt so real.
I liked the ending, the way they finally found peace with themselves and each other was beautiful even though it's really all too late in a way.

The Rat

This, this is my favorite. I don't even know why but I liked it, a lot. Maybe it's the huge rat and the ridiculousness of the whole thing. I like the fact that there isn't prior background, reasons why mark is so unmotivated and bum-like now. There are just clues given and leaves readers to think on it. But Mark is something of an unfathomable person for me. His thinking, his actions are just strange. His life is routine, then suddenly invaded and disrupted by the rat. I think that the Rat symbolizes a turning point in his thinking. The story doesn't finish off with that he does after - does he continue with life? Does he change? - but I think that although the Rat didn't appear to change him directly, it did. What the hell, I don't even know how or what exactly I'm thinking.
I really liked the last line though. And I might have started giggling uncontrollably when I read it again. Even though it still kinda fits.

Matchbox

I personally can't stand smoking so I can't exactly relate to this. But the way it's written, the horrific fact that the box started to smoke so young and everything makes this story so fascinating. After reading it, I'm really not sure why the boy quit. Was it because of his father? That ailing character whose life was ruined by the things? Was it himself? Maybe he didn't want to be like his father and mess up his life. Yet the need to smoke still remains after he quits because smoking is like his stress relief too. But I guess I still can't really understands this as well.

A Glass of Victory

I'm getting tired so this will be shorter.
What I find striking about this is how John can't forget about the Student body president thing. The failure and everything seems to haunt his and he can't stop resenting Pat and all that he has. Because he lost and it hit him hard. And what happens after he finds out what happened from Carlos, he's liberated not so much because he know Pat was cheating because he knows now that he didn't really lose, he won and he's better in a way than Pat.

Hate Crime

This, this just shows how racial differences just blind people.When a British person dies you don't see like, an Indian going up to an American and offering their condolences. But why are Asian's lumped together. Why? And people can get so sick of it that they just want to run, run
away. But I actually really enjoyed how this was done. The letters and everything.

Coup De Grace

This one is my second favorite. It's amazing how one's mind can become so messed up from something and it harms so many other people. Richmond Walker's bonkers, a coward. And he knows it yet refuses it admit it. He hide it under so many things that boxing and war that in time his own mind begins to believe it. He becomes to convinced and so sure of the things he's been repeating to himself and everyone. Jacob too, having lived with his father repeatedly calling him all sorts of names also begins to believe it. The fact that his father thinks that he's a coward becomes a part of him till it's almost something he thinks is true. Until he sees cracks in his father, he sees how his father isn't any better than a coward himself. He sees his father's insecurities and then his breakdown. And he knows that he doesn't want to be a coward. He knows that he isn't a coward. So he places the gun to his head. He doesn't know how it isn't loaded while Richmond did. And again, the last line was just beautiful. I've never though of it as a fragrance before and it just sounds so pretty.


Ok, I'm done.
I noticed how many of the characters are named Mike and I wonder why? Maybe he just likes the name? And Lastly I love the way Tablo ends all the stories. They just sum up the while story in that one sentence and it's beautiful



So I went to the doctor today. And I hate the waiting. Because it's so weird in the clinic, just sitting and waiting. I think I'll have to write something on that because it's just...

Awkward.
Everyone just sits, staring at random people in turn.
Noticing every movement, every noise.
Just waiting, watching the clock,
Hearing the voice of the receptionist droning on and on.
Being annoyed at the baby wailing her lungs out.
Eyes glued to their phones, pretending to be sms-ing when everyone's probrably playing virtual tennis.
When someone new comes in everyone glances at the patient some with hostile eyes -
Don't steal my seat -
Some with eyes of indifference -
Whatever, another person to suffer -
Occasionally there's someone who won't stop bitching -
why is the medicine to expensive? Can I see the breakdown of the cost? let me speak to the doctor.
Some people will shuffle out for a breath of fresh air. Some people will frown and just be annoyed.
Some people will focus on hitting the tennis ball over the net
Until the patient shuts up and starts to wait like te rest of them
Sometimes two men come in together, talking and laughing.
Everyone 's irritated and then they glaze up and space off,
listening to their voices and no one cares any more.
Their ears only searching for one thing - their name.
So when the woman behind the glass who talks way too loud calls their name , they spring up - Making sure to leave something on their seat -
and almost run to the door.
Ten minutes with the doctor, $35 for medicine and two hours of waiting.


What the hell. Someone stop me.
Ok, whatever, I'm going to sleep now because it's 11.30 and mom's nagging

Did I mention that I changed my phone?
I really like it even though it's not Nokia.
I was thinking maybe samsung because my logic goes something like this.
Samsung = Anycall = Anyband = Junsu+Tablo+BoA = ♥
But whatever, Sony Ericsson is fine.

I'm really going to sleep now.
My brain has officially disintergrated.

So I've been neglecting this blog, again.


Have you ever noticed how so many people feel awkward? Like, when you look at them you think whoa, that's so unnatural and stiff and awkward
I don't know, maybe I'm awkward and don't know it. Sometimes I get this feeling of not really knowing where to put myself or like, my hands, and ohmygosh it's so uncommfortable.
Just a random thought becasue I saw this person who really looked, pained and I began thinking about this whole awkward thing. And in conclusion, everyone feels awkward, whatever.


So today, I decided to walk to the Mrt and take that home instead of the usual yucky (but much faster, less tiring and cheaper) bus. And I wandered around West Mall with Jiamin for a while. And when I was walking home ,because I need the excersise anyway, there was this boy, maybe ten or eleven who annoyed me no small amount.
He was right infront of me and suddenly bgan to move all around and move in random directions, blocking up the whole path. And when I tried to walk past, he moved in my direction and I had to step back.
It turns out he was kicking a rock. Yeah, a rock. And he was trying to kick it so it moves forward and follows him to wherever he was going. And the rock refused to just roll forward like any good, obediant rock, no, it has to tumble all over the place. And this boy just runs after it, ignoring the fact that there are people behind him who would like to go home.
After I finally overtook him and the damn rock, I was halfway down the hill that leads to my house when someone kicked a lime at me. Seriously, it was that boy again.
And this time he was kicking the poor lime. Like he had to bring it with him or something.
Then when it hit my legs and rolled infront of me, he suddenly cut across and ran madly after it. And then he suddenly stopped infront of me becasue he caught the lime and I nearly fell over him.
Why do these things insist on happenning to me?
\

So exams are coming, really, really fast.
And I really, really have to mug now, so no more computer (yeah, right. Someone please tie me up)

Tomorrow's labor day. And the day after that is my brother's birthday. And the little thing boy has been bugging me for a Yoyo. And now, if there's one thing I dislike, it's Yoyos.
So I have to go buy his present tomorrow or he'll never get off my back. Because he seems to think that I have an unlimited, never-ending supply of money.
And I don't. I'm actually rather broke. Things are so expensive nowadays that it's crazy.
Do you remember the time Macdonalds sold it's ice-cream cone at 25 cents? I recently went to buy one and it's 70 cents now. But the taste hasn't changed much.

And I guess my living expenses are a little too high. Something I think I should be trying to change. My mom agrees too.
And I think she's right. So well, good for her.

And now, I'm off to spend more time waiting for this documentary on okto (8D)
Because I like these things dammit, they're interesting.

So, whatever.

My joints are aching, seriously aching. I hate physical activity so much. It really should be banned and the world can grow fat and horrible together.

So after the long weekend for good Friday and Easter, I went to bed on Sunday night and then realized that the next day was freaking Monday and where the hell did all that time go? Because I'm pretty sure that time didn't use to go that fast. Even though it's probably just me and my fondness for wasting time.

And recently, I came across this article on dreams. The author ,who is anonymous and has most likely forgotten the article cos it's from a few years ago, didn't like 'em and thought they were useless.
So yeah. Here goes. This, by the way is my response to the article that I would post except I kinda can't find it anymore.

To me, dreams are what keeps people alive.
How many realists, adults have said otherwise? But really, I think everyone has dreams that keep them going, striving, living just for that dream. And then the dream becomes more than a dream and goes to a dream plus a need. And more often than not, it's the need that pushes one to succeed.
And everyone has this need. It might be buried in some deep corner of one's subconscious but it's there. From young, an aspiration, a dream career (Mine was to be a doctor. But science, Ugh.), a wish. One may not nescessarily want one but it's there and no one can do anything about it.
Because we all know, we know exactly what we really want , no matter what we might think or say. And you never really quite give that dream up no matter how hard it seems. It may be temporarily ignored for something more practical but it simmers and grows until there's dissatisfaction and just unhappiness in general.
So chase, run, go after it and maybe, just maybe you'll catch it or know you've died trying. (this corny, whatever, but true so stfu)
Right now, I can say that I have dream, a crazy dream so crazy that no one would ever think it could ever come true. But I'll go for it first chance I get. But for now, I'll be building up ammunition. And my dream will come true and as long as I keep on telling myself that, it really really will, just you wait and see. And when it does come true, I'll let you know what exactly it is.
...
So, ok. If you want to write something don't do it anonymously, put a name to it. Yeah, or don't do it at all if you've no respect for your own opinions. Or put a useless name to it like sparkles2343 just for the heck of it. No, I've so not done that, really.

You know, when people write what they feel, put a disclaimer on it, warn people who will take offense when they read it to go away, people still read it. And they get offended and start to whine. But this is not targeted at anyone I know in real life, so, really, no offense. It's from my other cyber life that no one will ever get access to because it would be potentially very embarrassing.
But really, I don't agree with some of the things I read because they can be phrased as well or written really, really like a professional but it's all nonsense and complete bullcrap underneath. And people blindly read what they want to read because it looks pretty and sounds smart so hey, it must be totally correct...

(no offense of any kind is intended to anyone so go away if you are some totally random person who will get offended at these kind of rants about someone is probably isn't even you.)

(And if this is intended for you and you know it then swallow it, my blog, I write what I want to write. Go type more flowered up stuff somewhere else)


Today, I read a few of HariHaran's poems for the CAP thingamajig.
And ohshiz they are good.
If you look closer there's a subtle hidden meaning and it's good dammit.

And here (Meaning below, under my digression) is this thing from my CAP porfolio thingy.
And speaking of portfolios, I'm starting my own one on sappy love stories because I like writing and reading sappy love stories. So it's a whole portfolio consisting of a few series and collections of stories. And it's a personal target and challenge so I don;t go all rusty. Which is hard because my writing has gone MIA on me.


So here,


Track 52

Five minutes to seven, just five minutes more
Waiting, just waiting, at the tracks for his love.
A smile on his lips, a glance at a watch,
awaiting a kiss, awaiting that girl.

Thinking on dinner, what will they have?
He'd make her something nice, sugar and spice
Thinking just thinking, about his love's smile
Waiting just waiting, just a li'l while.

And now an arrival on Track 52
There are the headlights, the train's coming through.
Days since they'd hugged, days since they'd kissed
long sleepless nights with something amiss.

Then he sees a face, hers,
Pressed against the glass like a child’s
And indeed had he not long memorized every feature,
He wouldn’t have recognised those twenty one years.

The train’s slowing to a stop and he starts to run,
It’s been far, far too long.
But what's that commotion, what's going on?
Pushing, a shove, a teetering fall.

A fragile body, slipping, down, down , down.

A tiny cry, a whispered name, the sound of bones crunching like sand

Then there’s nothing at all.

***

They found on her finger, a platinum band
They found on the track, a desperate man
A wide-eyed, trembling, soon-screaming man

He's shaking, he's crying,
He's trying to fight,
trying to get through,
trying to dive,
Down to the blood spattered tracks.

The sobs wrenched their way
Out up from his chest
They choked in his throat,
Till he couldn’t breathe.

At Track 52,
something beautiful broke.

He may have gone mad
He may've if he had seen
the mess that was left
of his love down between
the wheels and the tracks
so they held him back.

They found her watch broken
At six fifty nine
A spark of life snuffed
At six fifty nine
A massacred angel
At six fifty nine

They found on her finger, a platinum band
They found at her grave, a broken man.

Five minutes to seven,
one minute to heaven.

I'll be waiting here,
waiting just waiting

At Track 52

I'll be waiting,

waiting for you.

fin.


So, where the hell did that come from and why can't I duplicate that?
Dammit, my life is so hard.
And did I mention that my arms and legs are aching. I swear I'm gonna die one day. Prematurely.

( And why do I feel so ranty today. Maybe cos I'm pissed and tired and that always makes me want to rant at everything that I don't agree with. So don't read. Although it's probably too late to not read since you're reading this.Whatever. The little red box at the top of the screen isn't there for no reason.)

asdfghjkl;

Did you know that asdfghjkl; has it's own Wikipedia page? Seriously it does.
Wth, why do I even know these things?

So today I made the mistake of bring my supershow to school. Charmaine went apeshit over her Kyuhyun. So it went like this,

Me: Guess what?
Charmine: What?
Me: I brought something today.
Charmaine: Plain Crackers?! 8D
Me: ...no
Charmaine: OMG IS IT SUPER JUNIOR?
Me: Wait relax don't -
Charmaine: OMG LET ME SEE!?!?! AHHH! HE'S SO CUTE ASDFGHJKL;
Me: ...
Charmaine: 8DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
So yes, I regret.
And I refuse to let this blog become a place for useless ramblings about my fandom, really.


BUT EPIK HIGH RULES, ABSOLUTELY.



SRSLY, WATCH THE WHOLE THING 8D

So today there was a maths test after school. There are three periods of maths today and Mrs. Chua makes us stay back to do the test.
Also, apparently, Miss Chew gave out the progress reports to the people who were in the class during lunch time. And I was eating. Which means I didn't get it.
So, whatever, really.

Yesterday, I got back the English essay. Didn't do that well, but it'll do, I guess.
Mercy. It's a strange topic I guess.

Also, I have developed a phobia of awkward situations. No, don't look at me like that, I'm not crazy *Twitch twitch*
Okay so maybe a little, but that's not the point.
When it's awkward I tend to stutter and sweat. I hate sweat, really really hate it.

So wait, Charmaine chew, he does not look funny dammit.














...♥♥♥



And, because I want too,











asdfghjkl; ♥


So also, because I'm bored, I'll post this up.
See? Now it sucks even more ass.




Love in the first degree

I’m still accused of love in the first degree
Guilty of love in the first degree

- Banarama

They are sitting at a table. There are four chairs.

Jessica occupies one, David occupies another, loneliness occupies the third, propping its feet up on the fourth.

“I don’t love you anymore,” she says.

David smiles sadly, and does not tear apart Jessica’s flimsy lie and pretence. He has always understood her best. If this is how you’re going to leave me, let me leave you, Jessica thinks.

“I don’t love you anymore,” Jessica repeats.

“Okay,” David agrees.

Jessica signs the papers, covered with black squiggles that she can’t be bothered to read, vacates her seat and although she is the one leaving, her heart is the one being broken.


***

Jessica thinks of the best way to say goodbye.

She stands in the middle of the apartment they share- shared- armed with a pad of yellow Post-It notes, and a black pen.

You can have this; She writes and sticks the note onto the television. It’s okay if you don’t play for me anymore; She writes and sticks the note onto the piano. Coffee stains are hard to remove; she writes and sticks the note onto the coffee table, right next to a brown coffee ring from David’s mandatory mug of morning coffee.Buy spare light bulbs; She writes and climbs onto a chair to stick it onto the ceiling next to the light.

She decorates every room, and marks nearly every item with yellow Post-It notes, and her presence. She sticks them inside pages of books, underneath boxes in the fridge, hides them among instant coffee packets, between folded shirts, the underside of tables, on a leg of a chair, at the back of the medicine cabinet, so David will always be reminded of her. Surprise, you found me; she writes and sticks the note inside a box of shoes.

Before he leaves, she attaches the last note onto the mirror. Goodbye, remember the way I used to love you.

She does not leave her name. David knows her handwriting the way he knows Jessica still loves him.

The Heartbeat of Rain

You were the umbrella over my head
In the night where the cold rain fell above my shoulders
You being by my side was a habit
I can’t be without you, alone in the rain
-- Umbrella, Epik High

David opens the letterbox and goes through the stack of mail. There are some flyers, two envelopes, and a key- a key to their – his - apartment.

He holds up the key to the light before dropping it into his pocket. He knows it’s officially over now that the key has been returned. He throws the fliers away, and takes the stairs to his apartment slowly but two steps at a time. The key is cold in his pocket (just like the heart that has been returned to him).

He wonders if he made a mistake when he asked for an ending. He shakes the thought away and opens the door. He toes off his shoes, and when he looks up, the two envelopes he was clutching flutter to the floor, his grip going slack.

Someone has wallpapered his house with yellow Post-Its. Oh my god, he thinks, mouth falling open in shock. And then that thought is followed, almost immediately, with narrowed eyes and a hearty round of swearing

The note stuck on the umbrella stand next to him says, Now that we no longer need to share an umbrella, you will never end up with one shoulder wet again.

He doesn’t even need to think to identify the writer. Even before reading the note, he knows this can only be the work of one person. He is even more certain now- this is the handwriting he’s seen for years, this is the handwriting of the person that his favourite poems and lyrics are written by, this is the handwriting that he used to wake up to see printed on his skin, permanent marker on the back of his hand saying Property of Jessica

He laughs, hollow and dry, because only Jessica can think of something as cruel as this.

“I hate you,” he says to the empty apartment, ripping the Post-It off the umbrella stand, crushing it in his hands, and forbidding himself from reading any others. Jessica makes it difficult for him. The scraps of papers are everywhere, and there is no way he can stop his eyes from drifting over and reading them.

The one on the bathroom mirror reads, Goodbye, remember the way I used to love you.

David snarls at the note, and storms out of the bathroom. He can’t even look at himself in the mirror in peace. He tries to find a place in the apartment that hasn’t been marked by Jessica, but even before he fails, he knows she could never be so careless.

“I hate you so much!” he shouts, swiping an arm across the wall of his bedroom, sending a few Post-Its fluttering miserably onto the ground like autumn leaves. One of them sticks to his sleeve. It says, I hate you too, baby.

David’s eyes widen, and he can’t help but laugh. Laughing hysterically at the fact that Jessica can read his mind before he even thinks the thought, he proceeds to remove all the Post-Its in his bedroom, pretending that by doing so, he can erase Jessica’s presence from the apartment (his life).

I hated the colour of the walls, one of them reads, and David recalls the quarrel they had three years back when they were deciding what colour to paint the walls in the apartment. In the end, David’s preferred colour had been chosen because he had allowed Jessica to decide on which bed to get. But now that I have to go, I don’t hate it so much anymore, another reads.

The Post-Its read like Jessica’s endless rambling train of thought, a long bitter farewell.

It takes David an entire night to take down all the Post-Its he can find, and when he thinks he’s done, he realises that Jessica is never the sort to go easy on him, especially not when David just broke her heart.

With the yellow scraps of paper sitting in the waste-paper basket, he lifts the lid of the piano, and finds a yellow Post-It note attached to the underside of the lid. It’s okay if you don’t play for me anymore, it says. David drops heavily onto the seat, and there is no strength in his fingers to play anything, anything at all.

David has never hated Jessica so much. There is never rest, never peace, and it is as though she is following him around the apartment, a ghost, a memory, a shadow.

One day, David drops his keys under the dining table on his way out of the house, and when he crawls under it to retrieve them; he sees a flash of familiar yellow. He pauses, crouching under the table; head ducked cautiously, and carefully plucks the note off the underside of the table.

If you hate me, I understand. David stares at the note in disbelief, scrambles out from under the table, throws it into the bin and leaves home, trying to fight the tears.

He continues to find those confounded Post-Its at unexpected places- he finds them in between pages of books and sheets of lyrics, finds them inside the refrigerator, at the bottom of a vase, inside the pockets of one of his jeans, and even on the ceiling.

There are four days of peace, until David opens a box of shoes and sees, Surprise, you found me. Incredulously, he picks up the note, written in that handwriting he will never forget, and tears it cleanly into half, as though that would erase the memories in his head.

***

David thinks that Jessica must have written more than a hundred notes, because they are everywhere, hidden in every possible place. Even three months after, David is still finding them.

Unexpectedly, he discovers the one inside the box of the watch Jessica bought him for his last birthday which has nothing written on it, just a small spiky heart at the bottom right-hand corner; the one inside a CD case says Nothing beats your singing; the one stuck to the bottom of his underwear drawer says I’m missing you right now.

David wakes up one morning to the sound of rain, the gentle rhythmic heartbeat against the glass window. He still sleeps only on one side of the bed, a habit he cannot seem to shake. He gets up, goes through his daily morning routine of washing up and getting dressed.

He takes an umbrella with him before leaving house. He ducks under the umbrella as he makes his way to his car. Just as he is getting into the car, tilting the umbrella sideways to close it, he sees the note. It’s stuck to the bottom of the umbrella, crumpled and slightly damp. He shuts the door of the car, and starts up the car before reading it.

If you find that the umbrella is a little too big and you’re a little too dry, it means you’re missing me (too).

David stares at the note for a few seconds, listening to the sound of rain falling on the roof of his car, like the rapid beat of the wings of a hummingbird and lost chances.

His hands on the steering wheel are trembling when he slides them down to take his phone out. He has already deleted Jessica’s number, in an attempt to remove her from his life. He dials the number he can never forget, and waits for the familiar voice to pick up.

“Hello?” Jessica says. She sounds unsure and nervous (maybe she couldn’t forget his number either)

“Hey,” David says.

There is a long pregnant pause. “Which note was it?” she asks at last.

David looks at the note in his hand, and is reminded of the countless others before it, all the I love you’s, the I hate you’s, the I miss you’s. The ones that made him cry, the ones that made him swear, the ones that made him smile, this one- the one that made him remember.

He smiles, “The one in the umbrella.” It means you’re missing me (too).

Jessica doesn’t answer, and David listens to her breathing on the other end for a long time, twirling the note around in his fingers before pocketing it. “Jessica,” he says quietly, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window, watching the tear-like droplets trickle down the other side, and he swears he can almost feel the moisture sliding down his skin. “Come back home.”

***

So, asdfghjkl;
That's it I guess.

I probably should add that this was not born out of any personal experience whatsoever, really, no.

Ok, so 8D? *Thumbs up*

Well. Today has been an eventful day. And not in a good way either, which sucks. My life's like that I guess.
So guess what? I came home today after church and found a wonderful surprise in my room. A flood. Seriously, the whole floor was covered in water. So was the bed, the mattresses under the bed, the floor under the bed, the desk, the nightstand, the windows, pretty much everything was drenched.
So a good part of my afternoon was spent mopping up the room and going over everything with a cloth. Lovely, just lovely.

I also changed my wallet, finally. And only because I was forced to by a certain person who happened to spray herbal back rub thingy all over it. Really, not on the outside but on the inside.
I hate you! !@#$%

Also, I've completed the YMCA proposal. Really have. All but the application form. Luckily for me, the deadline has been extended to Tuesday. Which means I can still touch up on it.

Lastly, because I really, really can't be bothered to type anymore because I'm asdfghjkl tired , this is for Charmaine even though I really don't even know why.
SORRY SORRY 8DDDDD



And this.You better watch it woman.