Should stop typing in blinding block letters. We went to the hospital to visit dear Chinee today (btw he had dengue and is gonna be released tmr if anyone still doesn't know).

He entertained us with hour-long stories of mostly botched injection attempts (horror.), frog soup, and nurses. Haha. Moon! Rita! Lol I thought it was damn funny that he was in the ward for old people then he was telling us grandmother stories. Haha. Because we were gathered around him while he doled out chocolate and told us tales so it did really seem like old granpa was entertaining little kiddies.

Anyway papers are okay so far. Not disgusting, but not stellar, so I suppose I shall push it aside for now.

Anyway hi Sze Jein did you know I was only reading your blog like, two days ago (:

Well toodles (okay I don't use this word, but Ted in How I Met Your Mother did and it was so funny hehe). Good night everyone and I am happy to say that shopping online is such a guilty pleasure for old deprived J2s like me.

HAPPY  (BELATED) BIRTHDAY VANESSA!

And pretend this one is dated 7th Oct...

HAPPY  (BELATED) BIRTHDAY IANWERN!!

So er. that's all. Back to physics hehehe. 

CHALKING UP CLASS TABLES LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS
LEAVING WET COLOURFUL TISSUE PAPER ON THE FLOOR
LEAVING PAPER PLANES STREWN AROUND
CHAIRS OVERTURNED LIKE SOME TORNADO WENT OFF COURSE

in the same classroom i.e. A67

AND PROUDLY WRITING THE THEIR CLASS AND CLASS MEMBERS' NAMES THERE. i.e. 08S03***

Seriously. It's disturbing they don't even have an inkling of a conscience. That's seriously the most disturbing part--that THEY DON'T EVEN THINK IT'S WRONG and can just unashamedly tell everyone whodunnit.

And I know you think you're smart and rich and good looking and all but the school's still a formal institution so please show some respect for the place, instead of strutting around singing at the top of your lungs, kicking stuff around, and acting like you're too good to be told off.

Okay this is only directed at some people okay I still love my chorale j1s :D:D:D

D:

So here we go. Time to do something for yourself, for someone you love. Do the most mature thing you've ever mustered the strength in you to do, in this one last week.

Waiting on an angel
One to carry me home
Hope you come to see me soon
Cause I dont want to go alone
I dont want to go alone

Now angel wont you come by me
Angel hear my plea
Take my hand lift me up
So that I can fly with thee
So that I can fly with thee

And Im waiting on an angel
And I know it wont be long
To find myself a resting place
In my angels arms
In my angels arms

So speak kind to a stranger
Cause youll never know
It just might be an angel come
Knockin at your door
Knockin at your door

And Im waiting on an angel
And I know it wont be long
To find myself a resting place
In my angels arms
In my angels arms

Waiting on an angel
One to carry me home
Hope you come to see me soon
Cause I dont want to go alone
I dont want to go alone
Dont want to go
I dont want to go alone

Now I have all the freedom I wanted before, but it's not as exhilarating as one would have assumed. It's tiring and burdensome. You dread, more than ever, the impending freedom of adulthood. Bleak. Just bleak.

The memory is always distant, but so real -- blurry, without any order. They are random and static, like a slideshow, yet they burn with clarity when they surface in the mind. Indulge myself in one, and I remember everything in exact detail. The feelings, the lighting, the texture of the floor, the air, the background hums and thuds. Time stops there, it seems, for after all, that one scene, that one action, is all I remember. I do not recall in sequence, and time freezes where the memory does. Perhaps that is what they mean by the beauty of the moment. When it has passed, you remember everything about it -- except what happens before, and what happens after. And so the moment is flawlessly preserved in its eternity -- there is no ending, there is no beginning. There is only that moment, saved from life's usual irreversibility. It is for you to revisit when you need an ocassional escape from regret.

Lovely weather. It's raining now, and the sky's a comforting shade of purple orange grey.
Yesterday was fine, but you know fine is never good enough.
Today was fine, in the end. Off to math now (: