Goodness, I'm Rudolph.
"Do you have a tissue?"
"No... Sorry."
"Wah, what are you doing? Homework?"
"Uhm. No."
"Oh, 'cos you looked so... Concentrated."
Isn't that something like orange juice?
A tumbleweed of string rolls by,
tossing, leaping, twirling.
Sarah flaps her script at it, as if to say, "Shoo!"
It retreats and meekly sits in a corner.
Little delicate pieces of paper,
clutched in the rough palm of her hand.
A hundred thousand colours sweep pass,
and they fall like snow.
"Shoots. Shouldn't have torn them up so much."
Boom, cha-cha-cha, boom.
They recite their lines,
some stumbling over them.
[Well, we've been having a ton of homework lately. Why blame them?]
Heads are sticky.
The sticks used to manipulate them make a hollow sound when they drop onto the floor.
Now that's what I call an airhead.
We want this.
We want this bad.
But can't somebody install fans???
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Grey gray
Grey gray sidewalks,
coated in wads of (chewed) HubbaBubba
and stumped-out cigarettes
pave the way for balding men in pleated soot suits
to their towering skyscrapers.
Work, eat, work, eat, work, work, sleep.
The sky has been crying again,
eyeshadow and mascara smudged against her blue cheeks.
Her rosy lips press against one another until they turn a ghostly white,
only to be coloured by her watery make-up.
Great sheets of her tears splash on several of these bald(ing) men, who look up at her in annoyance, pulling out their city's famous charcoal umbrellas.
A family of four,
thrown out by their landlady (mean ol' Mrs Teddington)
stand out in the rain, collars pulled up and heads bent low.
Where do they go now?
Daddy has been sacked from the shoe factory.
Mummy is sick.
Little Betty is wailing, she needs her milk.
Brad is so young, yet his hands are callused with labouring work.
A car drives by and skids over a puddle, drenching the already-wet family.
Missy has just dyed her hair purple.
She knows her mother will freak.
That's why she did it.
She fingers her nose ring and winces as she accidentally pokes her phoenix tattoo.
Examining herself in the mirror, she sees a teen, overlooked and ignored for too long, crying out for the love and attention she needed so much in these difficult years.
So she smokes, dyes her hair, pierces and inks every inch of her body, peddles drugs, gets thrown into Juvenile Court...
The sky is grey gray. She takes a deep breath of the polluted air, spins on the heel of her leather boots and shuffles home.
Utopia, they call it.
It's just another word for dystopia, really.
coated in wads of (chewed) HubbaBubba
and stumped-out cigarettes
pave the way for balding men in pleated soot suits
to their towering skyscrapers.
Work, eat, work, eat, work, work, sleep.
The sky has been crying again,
eyeshadow and mascara smudged against her blue cheeks.
Her rosy lips press against one another until they turn a ghostly white,
only to be coloured by her watery make-up.
Great sheets of her tears splash on several of these bald(ing) men, who look up at her in annoyance, pulling out their city's famous charcoal umbrellas.
A family of four,
thrown out by their landlady (mean ol' Mrs Teddington)
stand out in the rain, collars pulled up and heads bent low.
Where do they go now?
Daddy has been sacked from the shoe factory.
Mummy is sick.
Little Betty is wailing, she needs her milk.
Brad is so young, yet his hands are callused with labouring work.
A car drives by and skids over a puddle, drenching the already-wet family.
Missy has just dyed her hair purple.
She knows her mother will freak.
That's why she did it.
She fingers her nose ring and winces as she accidentally pokes her phoenix tattoo.
Examining herself in the mirror, she sees a teen, overlooked and ignored for too long, crying out for the love and attention she needed so much in these difficult years.
So she smokes, dyes her hair, pierces and inks every inch of her body, peddles drugs, gets thrown into Juvenile Court...
The sky is grey gray. She takes a deep breath of the polluted air, spins on the heel of her leather boots and shuffles home.
Utopia, they call it.
It's just another word for dystopia, really.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
School
A rush, a flurry of bright-eyed, bushy-haired students at the newly set up CCA board.
"Choir and Drama?! Where's my name in the Red Cross list?"
"Yes! Made Choir!"
"Dammit."
History has a surprise quiz on Chapter Two for us.
"Uhhhh... What islands did the Dutch conquer?"
I'm too confused to answer, while visions of octopuses with "DUTCH" stamped on their foreheads strangling everyone in sight dance in my head.
I forgot to do my Sound Poem for Music today.
We also learned about Mozart composing the tune to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
"As a lullaby for his kids."
We Group One-ers clustered together, reciting our memorised lines as fast as we could, so that the air was filled with nonsensical little yis, yas and yus.
We won just by a line!
Science forced us to get into groups of Five and complete a worksheet.
We got stuck on one problem, though.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? You can put the same answer more than once!"
"Wahliao..."
We also had to do graphs for Geography!
Yippee.
I didn't know Ms Cheong liked Sherman's Lagoon and Baby Blues, too!
Mrs Lee loaded us down with it in Math.
Also told us a really lame joke with really bad tense.
44 algebra questions.
Less than half an hour.
I completely wasted my RAP period finishing the bloody problems.
"NO, 'x' plus '-5x' plus '3x' equals to '-2x'!"
"God dammit, Sham, my head is getting 'x'ed!"
With three Literature essays due, some really tough algebra questions to solve, and a Geography chapter to plough through, I'm just too tired to type.
"Choir and Drama?! Where's my name in the Red Cross list?"
"Yes! Made Choir!"
"Dammit."
History has a surprise quiz on Chapter Two for us.
"Uhhhh... What islands did the Dutch conquer?"
I'm too confused to answer, while visions of octopuses with "DUTCH" stamped on their foreheads strangling everyone in sight dance in my head.
I forgot to do my Sound Poem for Music today.
We also learned about Mozart composing the tune to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
"As a lullaby for his kids."
We Group One-ers clustered together, reciting our memorised lines as fast as we could, so that the air was filled with nonsensical little yis, yas and yus.
We won just by a line!
Science forced us to get into groups of Five and complete a worksheet.
We got stuck on one problem, though.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? You can put the same answer more than once!"
"Wahliao..."
We also had to do graphs for Geography!
Yippee.
I didn't know Ms Cheong liked Sherman's Lagoon and Baby Blues, too!
Mrs Lee loaded us down with it in Math.
Also told us a really lame joke with really bad tense.
44 algebra questions.
Less than half an hour.
I completely wasted my RAP period finishing the bloody problems.
"NO, 'x' plus '-5x' plus '3x' equals to '-2x'!"
"God dammit, Sham, my head is getting 'x'ed!"
With three Literature essays due, some really tough algebra questions to solve, and a Geography chapter to plough through, I'm just too tired to type.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
MS
It's amazing what one person can say, think or do to make you really pissed off.
And then how the same person can bring your hopes up--
Only to let them crash down again.
And how can you stick to a friend who doesn't care about your feelings one little bit, but is too absorbed in his/her own little world?
I'm sick of trying to keep the peace and making everyone happy.
I'm sick of shutting up and plastering a smile on my face.
I'm sick of waiting.
Waiting for you to get up off your lazy ass (sorry, readers!) and actually doing some of the work!
I've given so much.
How about you?
How selfish is it to leave your chatting companion high and dry while you go off and do some YouTubing or whatever without answering the little "ping-ping-ping"s on your screen?
This is ONE TIME TOO MANY.
The straw that broke the camel's back.
Yaddayaddayadda.
Talk about LACK OF COMMITMENT.
Whatever, Priscilla.
ALL YOURS!
~
AND my lust quotient is 74%. Haha.
Maybe it's that cute ACSI guy in my Maths&Science tuition, eh?
I wonder what Joy and Natty will think of that, LOL.
Oh goodness.
SEE?!
I started out this entry really pissed.
And now I feel neutral.
Haha.
Must be the lust.
=O
Haha. I must've shocked some people out there.
Talk about your teenage Mood Swings!
P/S
According to him, we ain't together.
So STOP ASKING, people!
And then how the same person can bring your hopes up--
Only to let them crash down again.
And how can you stick to a friend who doesn't care about your feelings one little bit, but is too absorbed in his/her own little world?
I'm sick of trying to keep the peace and making everyone happy.
I'm sick of shutting up and plastering a smile on my face.
I'm sick of waiting.
Waiting for you to get up off your lazy ass (sorry, readers!) and actually doing some of the work!
I've given so much.
How about you?
How selfish is it to leave your chatting companion high and dry while you go off and do some YouTubing or whatever without answering the little "ping-ping-ping"s on your screen?
This is ONE TIME TOO MANY.
The straw that broke the camel's back.
Yaddayaddayadda.
Talk about LACK OF COMMITMENT.
Whatever, Priscilla.
ALL YOURS!
~
AND my lust quotient is 74%. Haha.
Maybe it's that cute ACSI guy in my Maths&Science tuition, eh?
I wonder what Joy and Natty will think of that, LOL.
Oh goodness.
SEE?!
I started out this entry really pissed.
And now I feel neutral.
Haha.
Must be the lust.
=O
Haha. I must've shocked some people out there.
Talk about your teenage Mood Swings!
P/S
According to him, we ain't together.
So STOP ASKING, people!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Cut by Coral
Sometimes you just want to scream at the world.
You know: let all that Teenage angst out.
I wish we had a quiet green, grassy tall hill somewhere in this world surrounded by mountains, a trickling stream, maybe, and a forest or two.
We could stand on its edge, facing the great snow-capped elders and yell out all our worries for them to hear.
They listened,
quiet,
thoughtful,
but never giving advice.
Follow your heart, young 'un.
Follow your heart.
{And then you just want to scream some more.}
I have a Diary.
A Journal.
Whatever.
Sometimes it isn't good enough to scribble down all my feelings;
Somehow, it doesn't really unleash my hostility,
anger,
sadness;
my worries.
"You never call.
Never say 'hi' on MSN.
Who are these other _ _ _ _ _?!
Are you toying with me?!"
Or maybe we should take a dip in the deep, wide ocean.
We could go snorkeling.
Not that we know how to, but we could learn.
Who cares if we're cut by Coral?
Who cares if a great, big, mean shark catches our scent?
Who cares if we die, as long as we have each other.
If I could spend my last moments on Earth with you,
I'd be happy.
I really would.
It's wrong to smoke;
take drugs;
drink.
Why do you still do the last one?
I'm constantly worrying about you!
Your future!
And what happens if no one is there to take care of you?
No matter how many times I try,
you never listen.
Is it true that if we cut ourselves, we'd be free of all pain?
I wish it were true.
High-ness would be delightful in this fast-paced place where a grade of an A2 and below is deemed "bad".
If High-ness could give me POWER
(super-dee-duper powers!)
I'd make sure no one would have any worries.
(No need for that stupid Green report book anymore.)
More understanding and listening, elders!
They raise their eyebrows at such defiance.
We could have picnics on the greengreen grass of the greengreen hills.
(Potato salad and chicken sandwiches, mmmmmm.)
And in the deep blue sapphire-y waters,
we'd snorkel with the schools of rainbow-coloured fishes,
hand-in-hand,
never worrying about being
Cut by Coral.
If I could be ruler of my own kingdom for one day,
just one day,
this would be my blueprint for it.
You know: let all that Teenage angst out.
I wish we had a quiet green, grassy tall hill somewhere in this world surrounded by mountains, a trickling stream, maybe, and a forest or two.
We could stand on its edge, facing the great snow-capped elders and yell out all our worries for them to hear.
They listened,
quiet,
thoughtful,
but never giving advice.
Follow your heart, young 'un.
Follow your heart.
{And then you just want to scream some more.}
I have a Diary.
A Journal.
Whatever.
Sometimes it isn't good enough to scribble down all my feelings;
Somehow, it doesn't really unleash my hostility,
anger,
sadness;
my worries.
"You never call.
Never say 'hi' on MSN.
Who are these other _ _ _ _ _?!
Are you toying with me?!"
Or maybe we should take a dip in the deep, wide ocean.
We could go snorkeling.
Not that we know how to, but we could learn.
Who cares if we're cut by Coral?
Who cares if a great, big, mean shark catches our scent?
Who cares if we die, as long as we have each other.
If I could spend my last moments on Earth with you,
I'd be happy.
I really would.
It's wrong to smoke;
take drugs;
drink.
Why do you still do the last one?
I'm constantly worrying about you!
Your future!
And what happens if no one is there to take care of you?
No matter how many times I try,
you never listen.
Is it true that if we cut ourselves, we'd be free of all pain?
I wish it were true.
High-ness would be delightful in this fast-paced place where a grade of an A2 and below is deemed "bad".
If High-ness could give me POWER
(super-dee-duper powers!)
I'd make sure no one would have any worries.
(No need for that stupid Green report book anymore.)
More understanding and listening, elders!
They raise their eyebrows at such defiance.
We could have picnics on the greengreen grass of the greengreen hills.
(Potato salad and chicken sandwiches, mmmmmm.)
And in the deep blue sapphire-y waters,
we'd snorkel with the schools of rainbow-coloured fishes,
hand-in-hand,
never worrying about being
Cut by Coral.
If I could be ruler of my own kingdom for one day,
just one day,
this would be my blueprint for it.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
2GY, 2007, and other random stuff.
Well, it's the second day of school.
It's been raining. There are puddles ankle deep in the courtyard, where we are supposed to gather.
We Sec. Twos ignore this and proceed to our respective classrooms.
It's the Sec. Ones who have a bit of a problem.
"We're supposed to go to the hall!"
"What, the primary school one?!"
"I don't know..."
Eventually, a small girl comes up to me and asks politely, "Excuse me, but where are we supposed to gather, I mean..."
She turns a beet red.
I manage to get rid of my extra voice huskiness (I have it every morning) and choke out, "Your classroom."
"Thanks. Hey..."
"Hm?"
"Aren't you the bimbo girl from yesterday?"
I immediately regret not letting Shameera "accidentally" chop off a couple of Sec. One heads.
I doubt the blood stains would have shown.
"Er... Yeah."
We spend the rest of the periods lolling around our corridors, talking about Death Note and S&M ("What???"). When we finally did something productive (e.g. Thinking of our class motto and T-shirt), we couldn't stop laughing at Shameera's presentation of our ideas. ("GY, gynaecologist! We're pregnant with ideas!")
Then we trooped down to the Drama Room where we spent three hours marching up and down the school building(s), waving photocopied fliers at the Sec Ones who were wearing okay-the-drama-girls-are-so-weird looks on their faces.
"Join drama! You know you want to!"
"I'm sure I don't want to..."
May that girl be f***ed for the rest of her school year. Hope she learns to not be so RUDE...
Several hey-aren't-yous from various people today:
"Hey. aren't you that Bimbo?!"
-Peer Leader
"Cool! You're that bimbo chick!"
"You're that bimbo person, right?"
-Random Sec Ones who DID NOT sign up for Drama or accept the flier I was handing out
May this year be one I can survive.
It's been raining. There are puddles ankle deep in the courtyard, where we are supposed to gather.
We Sec. Twos ignore this and proceed to our respective classrooms.
It's the Sec. Ones who have a bit of a problem.
"We're supposed to go to the hall!"
"What, the primary school one?!"
"I don't know..."
Eventually, a small girl comes up to me and asks politely, "Excuse me, but where are we supposed to gather, I mean..."
She turns a beet red.
I manage to get rid of my extra voice huskiness (I have it every morning) and choke out, "Your classroom."
"Thanks. Hey..."
"Hm?"
"Aren't you the bimbo girl from yesterday?"
I immediately regret not letting Shameera "accidentally" chop off a couple of Sec. One heads.
I doubt the blood stains would have shown.
"Er... Yeah."
We spend the rest of the periods lolling around our corridors, talking about Death Note and S&M ("What???"). When we finally did something productive (e.g. Thinking of our class motto and T-shirt), we couldn't stop laughing at Shameera's presentation of our ideas. ("GY, gynaecologist! We're pregnant with ideas!")
Then we trooped down to the Drama Room where we spent three hours marching up and down the school building(s), waving photocopied fliers at the Sec Ones who were wearing okay-the-drama-girls-are-so-weird looks on their faces.
"Join drama! You know you want to!"
"I'm sure I don't want to..."
May that girl be f***ed for the rest of her school year. Hope she learns to not be so RUDE...
Several hey-aren't-yous from various people today:
"Hey. aren't you that Bimbo?!"
-Peer Leader
"Cool! You're that bimbo chick!"
"You're that bimbo person, right?"
-Random Sec Ones who DID NOT sign up for Drama or accept the flier I was handing out
May this year be one I can survive.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Have a Happy 2007.
Many eventful things have happened this year, from winning the Maths Carnival in June with my fello PSSs (I broke the totally gay crown already!) to the disgraceful spamming of my shared blog ("KNS, lah! KNS! You *&^%$^&!" "Huh? SPEAK ENGLISH, YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING ******!!! Stop spamming already!").
Here is, in my opinion, the Top Five Most Memorable Experiences of Mine of the Year 2006, in no particular order:
1. Winning the Maths Carnival
You know, at the briefing of it, I was all, "What the hell. Stupid Maths Carnival. I am so not going to win..." *rolls eyes* But you know, gradually, I began to bond with my closest friends (aforementioned PSSs), and the freaking project actually helped to boost my grade in Maths. Hell, I got a hundred on my CA3 Mathematics score, for crying out loud.
2. All Drama performances
From Open House, to Drama Night to the National Library CIP, I've always enjoyed drama. And who can forget the rigorous training course Miss Fanny put us through, which resulted in us going home with aching muscles like we had run eight rounds round the track?
My God. I love this year's Sec One Drama girls! (Not counting you-know-whos, of course.) They made me laugh so hard, and were so, so much fun to be with (aka Joy and Shameera. ;D)
3. The Spamming
Tsh. Who can forget that? Goodness. Such language was used during the flooding of the black-and-grey tagboard. Most of which was used by the Crescent girls. Oooh. Remind me NEVER to send my kid (adopted or biological) there.
Of course, I am partly to blame. Shouldn't have been so rash as to write that shocking post, and showing it off as if I had caught a huge bass in the nearby river.
But whatever.
Hate those girls. (Not you, Daphane! :D)
4. Miss Heng's retirement
Did you guys see that article in The Straits Times? It was ALL ABOUT OUR BELOVED PRINCIPAL! =O Hahaha. We're going to miss her little jokes, aren't we? :/ At least it's comforting to know that she'll stay on the board. :D Hahaha.
Miss Heng, we love you! :)
5. 16th June, 2006
Only one person knows what I'm talking about. ;)
It was a very brave move, just to let you know.
I appreciate that.
Well, there's my list.
May everyone achieve their goals in 2007, the Year of the Pig!
DRAMAQUEEN!
Here is, in my opinion, the Top Five Most Memorable Experiences of Mine of the Year 2006, in no particular order:
1. Winning the Maths Carnival
You know, at the briefing of it, I was all, "What the hell. Stupid Maths Carnival. I am so not going to win..." *rolls eyes* But you know, gradually, I began to bond with my closest friends (aforementioned PSSs), and the freaking project actually helped to boost my grade in Maths. Hell, I got a hundred on my CA3 Mathematics score, for crying out loud.
2. All Drama performances
From Open House, to Drama Night to the National Library CIP, I've always enjoyed drama. And who can forget the rigorous training course Miss Fanny put us through, which resulted in us going home with aching muscles like we had run eight rounds round the track?
My God. I love this year's Sec One Drama girls! (Not counting you-know-whos, of course.) They made me laugh so hard, and were so, so much fun to be with (aka Joy and Shameera. ;D)
3. The Spamming
Tsh. Who can forget that? Goodness. Such language was used during the flooding of the black-and-grey tagboard. Most of which was used by the Crescent girls. Oooh. Remind me NEVER to send my kid (adopted or biological) there.
Of course, I am partly to blame. Shouldn't have been so rash as to write that shocking post, and showing it off as if I had caught a huge bass in the nearby river.
But whatever.
Hate those girls. (Not you, Daphane! :D)
4. Miss Heng's retirement
Did you guys see that article in The Straits Times? It was ALL ABOUT OUR BELOVED PRINCIPAL! =O Hahaha. We're going to miss her little jokes, aren't we? :/ At least it's comforting to know that she'll stay on the board. :D Hahaha.
Miss Heng, we love you! :)
5. 16th June, 2006
Only one person knows what I'm talking about. ;)
It was a very brave move, just to let you know.
I appreciate that.
Well, there's my list.
May everyone achieve their goals in 2007, the Year of the Pig!
DRAMAQUEEN!
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