AHH!

Reach.

Are we there yet?

I don't understand this whole blog-and-build-a-blogging-community-with-complete-strangers thing, really. I mean. Who cares?

And this whole narcism habit. Like how some people try to project themselves to be intellectual or pretty or whatever. I don't get it. It's as though they get something from building this virtual security net.

Ahh. Tired.

Good night.

His name is Calvin! (:
Much love for Van Claire Mich PJ Han CQ Ianwern Kahhan ML though I know only some people went out to buy it. :D And some people thought it was simply easier to trace out large a happy birthday on an undeserving pretty card (: Hehe. <3!

Ike is currently in hibernation (i.e. I sent him home) so heh shall showcase him another time. One might not find him as cuddly a toy hedgehog as expected, but more energetic than you think! 

And then the realisation hits me, yet again, that time is so, so short. And that there is a really high possibility that I'll never see some of the most beloved ever again. Well okay, that's dramatic, but, that's how people are, and that's where people go, and sometimes you can't help that divergence in the road. And you can't help that the gap doesn't narrow. Oh well.

I realise nowadays, that my battle against emoing like a stereotypical teenage angsty girl who can't place the root of her emotions, has finally been won. Hmm. Like Fried said, maybe having a direction is good thing.

Thanks Nanett and Clara for turning off the heater AND the bathroom lights to stamp the floor and sing me happy birthday.
Thanks Nanett for the super pretty earrings. Purple is such a lovely colour it's not gay I don't care :D
Thanks Alex, as always.
Thanks Clara for the cake, though it got infested by six-legged and winged things that shouldn't walk the earth at all the next day ):
Thanks Chorale J1s! For the happy birthday song. For the wooden hedgehog and the book. So cute omg. Thanks fried for hunting it down and capturing it in a pretty pink box (:
Thanks galpals and the guys! For the hedgehog, yet again. And for the pretty purple card. And thanks guys for ruining the card as always. I'll take it as a sign of affection yeah?
Thanks Royce and the rest of the J1s for pranking and singing happy birthday. Lol.

Thanks everyone for all the messages. Big hugs everybody! :D

Oh and J1s: I named him Ike! and Galpals: I named him Calvin! Now they have a best friend :D :D

Went out for dinner with Alex today, then met Paul at S11. So we had dinner together. Talked about the future. Prospects, hopes, regrets, things like that. Couldn't say much --sometimes conversations like that double up as a silencer. I'd rather stare at the colour of the deep turquoise sky, and imagine myself instead. How many days left, you tell me. Half a month of mainly nothingness, then 8 days. Then it's all gone, and readjustment begins again. I don't want to readjust. Truth be told, I am happy now. now. I don't want to go back to having things mapped out for me again. Leave it to me. I don't need a signpost every step of the way. I want to live, to read, to absorb, to think, to lie down, to write my own jokes and my sad stories, to write my own future and my hopes, to dream, to write, to type, to emote, to express, to listen, to watch, to feel, to make. I want to hope my dreams alive.

If only you could want something so hard that it'd come true.
If only you could ask time to give you many chances, and it would.
If only I could tell you, and you, and you, and you, and.. now, how much I still want to be around you --how much I want these two years to magically expand themselves.
The online shopping.
The late night convos --of silly things, of hims and hers.
The hanging around under block A.
The sitting around and talking, and poking fun at each other.
The dropping by sectionals.
The pasting post-its on peoples' backs.
The singing.
The late night room discussions.
The impulsive trips to Bugis.
The retarded smses.
The heated arguments on MSN.
The strawberry milkshake equilibrium.

I hate how things are so temporary. How you have to grow up and move on. How everytime you find some meaning, it fades into memories too soon.

I'm not ready to go.

And then sure enough, Lady Luck gleefully throws me a bullseye, I have Oxford entrance test the next morning. 9.30 am. Right.

Sighhh.