| Thursday, June 15, 2006 |
 can you blame me for curiousity? |
| gery 9:49 PM |
| Friday, February 03, 2006 |
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i'm waking dreaming waking again, but somewhere along the line i seem to have confused dreaming and reality, pinch me awake somebody. i'm not myself anymore, i've been diluted and stirred; i'm like some stupid shadow trailing around after various people, feeling like an intruder. fed up fed up fed up |
| gery 11:17 PM |
| Tuesday, January 03, 2006 |
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second first day Crown and anchor me Or let me sail away -Sarah McLachlan, Blue school's become just this period in between vacations. it's some dreary in-between filled with uniforms, work, more work, grades. exams. i'm so out of the loop these days, i sit with people who talk and laugh and point and i don't understand what's happening at all, and secretly wondering if they're laughing at me. but finding out's lost its charm, got tarnished and shut away in some box that marks the passing of time. i'm scared of this, of this not bothering with the world anymore, of shutting myself away in some sort of self-imposed exile like a few years ago- fix a smile on your face, and it's ok. this year looks like one of choices, and i'm afraid again. afraid, scared- not yet terrified. so many factors, not just x and y, multiply and divide you way to a certain ending. wanting. to withdraw into my shell and never come out. but age comes with maturity, so they say. and running away never helped me in any case, except to prolong the agony. i should quit fighting it and just go with the flow. so it's back to curved blue rows of seats, cranky air-cons that stop working in the middle of a lecture, long white benches and wires on the railing, and more looking over a field with small white dots on it that pass as boys. and it's back to hoping to finally be able to do just what i want to do, finding out who i want to be, being. ordinary, brown. sneaking off to have ice-cream, running down to the canteen between blocks to buy food, pretending to have done math tutorials, going with the flow. it might be a good year after all. |
| gery 10:47 PM |
| Sunday, December 04, 2005 |
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it's hard to admit, but yeah i missed you too thanks for the when and not if, i'm not too sure about the sanity but since you're good with it i shall be too. you're such an ass in the affectionate way. we'll meet again in a million years, and we'll be Grown Up, if we're not Dead, and we shall see who's right about the future though i have a funny feeling we'll be both right and wrong; it always ends up this way or is this my attempt at being politically correct. but for whatever my pathetic wish/prayer's worth, i hope you'll be happy. and thanks for always making me laugh. another you said you hated pride and prejudice because it was all about sitting around and drinking from teacups but there is this strange peacefulness that comes with good china and earl grey. when i think of tea ladies in high back chairs wearing white lace and large hats invariably come to mind, along with the clinkclink of silver spoons and dainty cakes, too many movies have corrupted me. peacefulness is a euphemism because it's really a drug. fumes intoxicate. i'm not immune, immune to society and the rules that come along with it. the semblence of order is a pleasant thing, it's too easy to believe in routine. but i suppose it's good to give myself a hard kick once in a while just to remind myself that rules have loopholes too and they're there to be exploited. oh, adrenaline. i'm not complicated, i'm just seventeen |
| gery 10:46 PM |
| Friday, December 02, 2005 |
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it's raining, pouring, inside my head and out. |
| gery 10:50 PM |
| Sunday, November 20, 2005 |
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fool you tell it like it is i am sitting waiting wishing. reading godot. not wondering about existentialism. i should believe in ressurections because i am a good christian. not. irritated because i have a cold and i am not a good invalid. did plath name ariel after her horse, the tempest or both what's up with this state of limbo i dont think you need the sdu i just need my head checked ella has just cemented my belief in my stupidity sigh. sssssssttttuuupid je ne me quitte pas a little fall of rain sounds strange in japanese but oh well i laughed when i heard castle in a cloud in french anyway all the strange songs everyday i love you less and less, its good to see you're obsessed my playlist's on shuffle do you listen to techno- now was that a lyric i can't remember pondering sounds so ponderous like some fat old man with legs like tree trunks fumbling along i should learn sign language in case i ever go deaf girl a girl b boy c there's a tissue paper mountain growing im getting sick of myself i hope you choke you choke getting out of the house is neccessary for sanity i cleaned out my computer, now if i can start on the house and on me it would be good i think to give my brain a good spring clean dust out all the demons lurking the corners if only it was so easy we'd be unrecognisably shiny happy and not tired and random and sniffly i wish everybody'd stop screaming over my head i'm not deaf just miserable |
| gery 10:46 PM |
| Monday, November 14, 2005 |
wishing tree and apologiesi no longer want to read about anything sad. anything violent, anything disturbing, anything like that. no funerals at the end, though there can be some in the middle. if there must be deaths, let there be resurrections, or at least a Heaven so we know where we are. before they cut it down the tree stood in a corner of the field, in the middle of the route between home and the train, a convenient marker to measure progress. it was white, like bleached bones, and if you sat on a car it would seem like a skeletal hand reaching out of the ground to the sky; if you were moving fast enough it would simply be a white blob at the corner of your eye. that was before they cut it down, lopped off the branches and piled them by the side of the pavement, wood chips sighing softly as they flaked their way slowly, inevitably onto the grass; before the red wood formed a silent 'o' of surprise as the stump nakedly gaped at newfound liberation. but this isn't about a tree, isn't about what but about why- why up the down escalator and why i can't find a hundred and sixty words (that's not counting the spaces) to explain myself. life's a multiple choice questions and there isn't an easy option that says 'all of the above' A. silence is something i wrap around like silver bark, a spirit too delicate, to act earthy and abhorr'd commands. it goes. against my grain. to let the silence peel from me, to step out from my cloven pine. i would not have you intrude on silence, my silence (because face it, i'm possessive and selfish); silence today is two parts grief one part pride the rest of it need there are nuances that you can't read. and if you cut me i bleed darkness and surprise, resignedly. B. there could be a nine hundred and ninety nine other reasons, minus the one above which i have already told you C. or you could take it that i routinely ignore hundreds of other strangers daily and you're just another statistic. alright this isn't an apology (because apologies are overrated if you ask me; this smacks of intellectual superiority but i don't mean it really), it's more about the why and how if you have to say hello theres not point because everything leads to goodbye. it doesn't matter if you don't understand this because you've never understood me anyway, at least not yet because hope is in the future tense. i'm just like that. |
| gery 8:14 PM |
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oh no, i am not depressing i dreamt that i went to ntuc and there was an offer for two packets of farmhouse milk for $4.20 and free fruit juice from peel fresh. and i was happy happy happy. seriously starting to doubt my sanity. it's either that or i'm just very easy to please. ok shall update more after coming back from 7-11 where the Holy Gods of Newspaper reside :D |
| gery 9:07 AM |
| m(e)ss romantic, |
| girl is: seventeen, and things-wanting. systematically disorganised. success gonna-be (i hope). usually out of it. hopefully anti-social but is far too nice to be. talks about herself in the third person, which ella says is a sign of narcissism. the new pornographer's-loving. music junkie. ps i eat children for dinner |
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| mixtape, |
| indentations in the sheets where their bodies once moved but don't move anymore--neutral milk hotel |
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| covets, |
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a (good) scanner boards of canada saint etienne something that can play music and fit in my pocket a mountain bike or rollerblades whichever is cheaper angels in america full metal alchemist movie roy mustang sandman battle royale kill bill i & ii dead sea poems unbearable lightness of being nonfiction (the book, i mean) |
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| and etc., |
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hello other self woonkeat aaron ella angela jich ame xiaoqi shumay royston bernie bong risse jill |
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| spam, |
| i'm just asking for it |
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| credits, |
| this layout was created by undyinglove-haha. other credits go to x x and x |
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