I swear being a mom is just so so hard. I know I'm slow, but a few days ago my baby cousin started crying for an hour straight because the tv conked on everybody and left him stranded with no pictures of ducks swimming in some pond. Which, actually, almost made me lapse into total breakdown, until I pulled him onto my lap and searched for pictures of ducks on my mac. Which is already hard, because he runs like the wind and oh god, I swear twenty million red blood cells died in the half an hour he sat on my lap and got amused by the ducks.
So EOYs start thursday, and I've only worked on one page of philo and one page of geog. Which isn't very ideal, because you know, I have about ten million more pages to finish.
On the other hand, I've been working on writing a lot... which is really working out. Yingting and I actually sat at tcc for like two hours and just stared out of the window-wall and we actually got so many ideas that I'm still trying to reorganise and put it down in words. I think it's actually going to work out. For the first time EVER. YAY.
I went bowling with Daniel today. Only Daniel, technically, cause Yingting mugged and left halfway. She didn't even bowl. So yeah Daniel suaned me and I suaned him (kindly, thank god) and there was this couple beside us who weren't singaporean (i think they were filipinos) and the guy. Oh god the guy was funny. Today Daniel was on a high roll. Which, to my dismay - not good. I felt suay. I am suay. Anyway, so the guy beside us probably admired Daniel so much or something, it's like, every time Daniel went up to throw the ball, he'd be smiling at the back looking very xin1 wei4. REALLY. I SWEAR. And everytime Daniel striked, he'd be like YOU'RE GOOD MAN YOU'RE GOOD. And to me it was just so funny AND suay. Seriously. I'm not kidding. HE SMILED EVERYTIME DANIEL WENT UP.
So then I was telling Daniel that somehow the guy was his long-lost godfather and he gave me his diao face again and I probably repeated that ten thousand times until he'd be like sinking in his seat everytime I mentioned it. BUT THE GUY IS CREEPY. LIKE REALLY CREEPY. I think he has imaginary kids and he imagines himself being the imaginary godfather of his imaginary kids. OMG DANIEL MAYBE HIS IMAGINARY KID IS NAMED DANIEL TOO.
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
I shall end with this. I reassure you you'll be having sweet longings after:
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
♥ Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Watched the happy little families at the mall? I thought that stage was over for me, but apparently it's not. Why can't I be like them? Whenever I pass by another of them, I'm suddenly defensive, suddenly protective of the kids, and I stare at the parents, hoping that I'll send the message across - don't let them be like me. Don't let them be like me. Whenever everything else gives up on me, I'm suddenly tired, suddenly sick, and I start to have to run to the toilet and throw up for no reason. I don't eat. And then I think, there's nothing wrong with me. There's nothing wrong with me. Whenever I'm sick, that feeling will always come back. I'm suddenly exhausted, suddenly weak, and I collapse at all the wrong times. And where does that leave me with - nothing. Nothing at all. I dare you to step in front of me and tell me what it's like to lose someone, then lie to another's face without battling an eyelid that you don't miss that someone you lost, and you lie because you have to. Because then things will be okay if you lie. Things will be okay if you lie. I bet a million bucks that you can't take care of yourself. I bet all the little brats out there can't do their own laundry, can't mop their floor, can't wash their toilet, don't know what brand of rice you eat, don't know what soy sauce you use, don't know how many toilet rolls are left in your cupboard. Because you don't have to. You don't have to.
I know it's unfair that I'm being such an asshole to everybody all the time, but I have to. Unlike everybody else, I don't have a choice. I don't have a choice, I don't have a chance, to be that girl by the ice cream stall, with her family. I have to be that girl who can memorise the stocks in the fridge before I go to the supermart, that girl who can only stand by one side, and watch the girl with the ice cream, mocha in hand, still waiting for the cup of ice cream that might take forever to be handed over to me. Still watching, still waiting.
♥ Wednesday, September 19, 2007
When you have to look away When you dont have much to say Thats when I love you I love you, just that way
To hear you stumble when you speak Or see you walk with two left feet Thats when I love you I love you, endlessly
And when your mad cause you lost a game Forget Im waiting in the rain Baby I love you, I love you anyway
Heres my promise made tonight You can count on me for life Thats when i love you When nothing you do can change my mind
The more I learn, The more I love The more my heart cant get enough Thats when I love you, When I love you no matter what
So when you turn to hide your eyes Cause the movie it made you cry Thats when I love you I love you a little more each time
And when you cant quite match your clothes Or when you laugh at your own jokes Thats when I love you I love you, more than you'll know
And when you forget that we had a date Or that look that you get when you show up late Baby I love you, I love you anyway
Heres my promise made tonight You can count "on" me for life Thats when i love you When nothing you do can change my mind
The more I learn, The more I love The more my heart cant get enough Thats when I love you, When I love you no matter what Thats when I love you When nothing baby Nothing you do could change my mind The more I learn, The more I love The more my heart cant get enough Thats when I love you, When I love you no matter what No matter what
♥ Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Thought I'd give you all a short excerpt from a book I definitely love.
I'd thought it might be like in my dreams. but it wasn't. Running came back to me, as easily as anything else that had once been everything to you. The first few steps were hard; it took me a second to catch my breath, but then I found my pace, and everything fell away, until there was nothing but me and what lay ahead, growing closer every second. Wes. By the time I reached him, I was breathless. Red-faced. And my heart was thumping hard enough in my chest that at first, it was all I could hear. He turned around just as I got to him, looking surprised, and for a second neither of us said anything as I struggled to catch my breath. "Macy," he said. I could tell he was shocked by my running, by the very fact that I was standing there in front of him, gasping for air. "What-" "I'm sorry." I put my hand up, palm facing him, and took another deep breath. "But there's been a change." He blinked at me. "A change." he repeated. I nodded. "In the rules." It took him a second: he had no idea what I was talking about. Then, slowly, his face relaxed. "Ah," he said. "The rules." *Yes." "I wasn't notified," he pointed out. "Well, it was pretty recent," I said. "As in..." "As in, effective right now." Wes ran a hand through his hair and I saw the heart and hand slip into view, then disappear again. I had so much to tell him, I didn't even know where to start. Or maybe I did. "Macy," he said softly, looking at me closely. "You don't have to-" I shook my head. "The change," I said. "Ask me about the change." He leaned back on his heels, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Okay," he said after a second. "What's the change?" "It's been decided," I told him, taking another breath, "that there's another step to winning the game. And that is that in order for me to really win, I have to answer the question you passed on, that night in the truck. Only then is it final" "The question I passed on," he repeated. I nodded. "That's the rule." I know, in the silence that followed, that anything could happen here. It might be too late; again, I might have missed my chance. But I would at least know I tried, that I took my heart and extended my hand, whatever the outcome. "Okay," he said. He took a breath. "What would you do, if you could do anything?" I took a step towards him, closing the space between us. "This," I said. And then I kissed him. Kissed him. There, in the middle of the street, as the world went on around us. Behind me, I knew Jason was still waiting for an explanation, my sister was still lecturing, and that angel still had her eyes skyward, waiting to fly. As for me, I was just trying to get it right, whatever that meant. but now I finally felt I was on my way. Everyone had a forever, but given a choice, this would be mine. The one that began in this moment, with Wes, in a kiss that took my breath away, then gave it back, leaving me astounded, amazed, and most of all, alive. The Truth About Forever, Sarah Dessen.
Oh, well. Now that's a big spoiler. I would gladly love to scrutinise and analyse this excerpt and the book rather than Shakespeare and his thees and thous and whimsical fancies. Sigh. This excerpt might not seem to be anything for you, but if you read the whole book, this would have been the perfect ending of chapter twenty-one. And chapter twenty-two'd be what you want to happen to Macy and Wes.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
♥ Tuesday, September 18, 2007
This is the tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be that they are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don’t give it up on the first date, who don’t want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren’t perfect and that the guys they’re interested in aren’t either. This is for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe… maybe this time he’ll have understood. This is a homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who are more than they should for guys who don’t deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea" to "time heals all wounds". This is to honor those girls who know that the guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.This is for girls who have never been in love, but know that it’s an experience that they don’t want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments, and explicit invitations that they’d rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn’t care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed.This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they’re too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.This one’s for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won’t because it’s easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship. This is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he’s just not ready, he’s just not over her, he’s just not looking to be tied down. This is for the girls who believe the excused because it’s easier to believe that it’s not that they don’t want you, it’s that they don’t want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone to cavalier to have cared in the first place.This is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you’ve returned home alone, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little to near, or talking a little too softly to the girl he’s with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want a relationship… it was that he didn’t want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he’d realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.This is for the "I really like you, so let’s be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended. This is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you’ve received from your female friend, for the nights they’ve reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy. This is for the despair you felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you’d have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something. This is for the stupidity of the nights we’ve believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we’d have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more. This is for the girls who don’t think that they deserve more, because they’ve been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don’t appreciate them and don’t want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than when their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful. Men despair that no good woman wants to share in their lives, that girls play mind games.Yet men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call… and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and wroth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the ‘stalker chic’ you’d met the night prior, who call you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told you the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once more again return t the bar or club or some party scene and search for this ‘nice girl’ who you just cannot seem to find? Because there lies the truth guys: nice girls are everywhere. But you’re not looking for a nice girl. You’re not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intramural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father. So don’t say you’re on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover, sometimes we go in disguise, sometimes when that girl in low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won’t answer your catcalls, sometimes you’re looking at a nice girl in good clothing. We might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we’re all thinking the same thing: "This isn’t me. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be wearing a tee-shirt and flannel shorts, I’ll have slept alone and I’ll be making my hung over best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don’t want the nice girl, so don’t say you’re looking for a relationship. Relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we’re willing to extend, but in return, we’re looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe the nice guys finish last, but in the race they’re running they’re chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy targets. The nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won’t matter), hoping that maybe you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.So maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we’re waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat… because what’s a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?
Sunday, September 16, 2007
♥ Sunday, September 16, 2007
I've read a lot of books. Not as much as novelists write, or people like Simmy - but not as less as people who hate reading. But I'd say I'm generally over the average band. In particularly, I grew to like one author. And, eventually, after I'd read all of her books and fell in love with everyone of them and all the characters she created, I went back to the first book I read from her. What really spurred me on on reading her others, was the first I read. In my mind, I'd always thought it was good, exceptional, wonderful, and that no other books were measurable to this particular one, and so this stayed. I borrowed the book three times from the library, and even today, as I was in Kinokuniya treating myself to a good weekend, I found myself searching the shelf for that book. I've read all of Sarah Dessen's books, and I've even preordered Lock and Key, her latest coming out April 08 in the US on Amazon. I've found myself at 3 in the morning on school nights hiding under my blanket with a reading light (turns out my aunt gave me a bad present - but that's from my mom's point of view) , the book clasped in my hands, only to think, what are you doing, Jessica? And surprisingly, after I'd ask that question I'd smile, and then continue reading, only to ask the same question minutes later.
The book is called Someone Like You. Her name is Halley. I look back at all the times I've met with something I couldn't solve, and then go to the library the next day feeling unstable and uneven, sneak out from the house or pretend to need the loo so I could be alone to look for the book that I knew will always restore my confidence in everything. And then I look back at all the times people around me've met with things i couldn't solve, for them, and then I turn to Halley. The book is special and she is special because (as much as I remember) she's the only one who didn't get Prince Charming. In the end, she's pretty much on her own, only with Scarlett - who'd gotten a new baby, so that's a plus. This is so going to be a spoiler. Halley. She was named after the grandmother, named for the comet. She's the strongest young woman I probably have ever known. She went for Lamaze classes with her very pregnant/moody best friend, who she had to support when her boyfriend - the guy she truly loved and who truly loved her - died from a motorcycle accident in the summer, which wasn't his fault because a businessman in a bmw was such a total asshole. She tackled her psychiatrist parent-child-relationship mother who'd written three books, almost all about her and Halley and their perfect relationship, her radio-broadcast father who hated Christmas jitterys (i.e trees and ornaments and clay figurines, whatnot) and embarrassed her by exposing Halley's most embarrassing moment nationwide on the radio, which made Macon Faulkner nickname her Muddy Britches. I can remember things like that. But I prefer to remember Halley, or in fact, Someone Like You, in many other ways. It was something that led me to discover Dessen, and all the books she'd written, each teaching a different lesson, a different story. Telling a different problem. Everything that has taught me to be what I am now, someone who plays so many different roles, solving so many problems, finding so many answers, but altogether one person, someone, who really, is made up from a lot of different people, with contradicting qualities that complement each other. I know I'm contradicting and this is sounding stupid but that's the point. True, there are books she's written that are better reads than this one. But this - it's special. It's a testament. Or friendship, of courage, of making the right decisions, of love, of trust, faith. But really, the first strikes me most. And today, I've reread it. Like visiting the same house four times, I was aware of what was to come next, what the ending was, and allthough it took some rereading (my fault, not concentrating) of scenes and other stuff, little details that I'd come to remember, that Lakeview was three miles away from the airport. It was the same as locating the spare key, of the directions I would take, what the house was like, and all the little details - scents and sights along the way, the boulders that blocked the way to the end, the destination the road eventually led to. But like reading the book, embarking on the road to reach my destination doesn't become as frightening as it was. I don't know how to explain, maybe I took Lazame classes, or brought So You're Pregnant - Now What? books like Halley and Scarlett do everywhere they go, or maybe, just maybe, I'd slunk into the comfort of safety, knowing that the spare key had been in my pocket all along, just waiting for me to get to the place where I'd finally be, and unlock the door, where I'd find new experiences and new lessons I've never learnt before, nor seen anything as beautiful as what I get, at the end of it all. And then, going by this criteria, I'd say that Someone Like You is my most favourite book ever. Because it's led me on my first step towards the end, and given me the key to unlock the place where I will be.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
♥ Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Watching them playing, hearing them laughing, listening to them singing, clapping. My heart is breaking. They're a family, and I'm not.
♥ Tuesday, September 11, 2007
You know, there are some people in this world you know you cant live without. Family, friends, lovers, and, not to mention, enemies. But that's another story. Let's get to what I was going to talk about, shall we?
Remember Chicken Little? That little chicken - pardon the pun, it's unintentional I assure you - who was a loser in school? The one who stupidly got stuck to the road by gum, flew to the school corridor by soda, got locked in his own locker? The unpopular ridicule life made out of, the one everybody called crazy, everyone scoffed at for telling them that the sky was falling when they insisted that he got knocked out by an acorn, the one who made pants out of paper? The same guy who was good at dodgeball? Chicken Little, the suay little chicken.
You could remember him that way, or this; Remember Chicken Little? That same chicken who worked really hard to hit the home run, held his friends dear, tried to be the perfect son? The one who missed his mother, sang "I am the champion" in the most horrible voice you could ever imagine? Who used soda to ring the school bell, found the orange-haired kid, got him safely home, and gave a perfectly good speech to his dad, who kissed Abby right on the lips in the auditorium? That chicken who saved the world? Chicken Little, the strongest chicken ever.
Which way do you want to remember someone? I prefer the second one.
Chicken Little may seem like a stupidly childish movie, but it teaches you one of the best lessons you can ever learn. Take some time to ask yourself what you've been doing with your life right now. You don't need an hour.
By The Time You're Done Reading This Paragraph You'd Have Finished Five Seconds. (YAY!)
Done? Okay.
1) Oh you know, I've been working on my grades recently. Look at my report card! It's got straight As and I'm holding a 3.6 grade! I haven't delayed any homework and every day I come home early to start on homework so I can get a 4.0 GPA! I AM SUCH A MODEL STUDENT. 2) What does life mean? Give me a definition of life. And give me a definition of what do you mean by 'doing'? Does eating count? Does drinking count? Does peeing count? Does having philosophical thoughts count? Where's the definition, you dufus? PLEASE BE A LITTLE BIT MORE PHILOSOPHICAL. 3) Everyday, I live my life in misery drinking Pokka(because I'm a minor and Heineken is out of the question) and watch ants as they crawl into their ant nests and confide in the cockroaches next door. Just leave me in self denial. I'm living a happy life. 4) I've been so tired! I slept an hour last night and the night before that I slept two hours and the night before the night before I slept half and hour and a week ago I slept for a minute and thirty seconds before my alarm starting ringing! You know there's so much homework to finish?
If you had stage five cancer (like I always think I do) and you were going to die in your sleep tonight, would your last day be spent in any of those categories? Think, everybody.
What is it that you really want? If you died tomorrow, how would you have loved to spend today? You'd want today to be the happiest day of your life. And 1/2/3/4 is not going to take you anywhere near there. Happiness doesn't reside in words. It resides in your heart. It's for you to find it.
Try this one: Remember Chicken little? The loser in school? The one who was a happy chicken every day of his life?
Thursday, September 06, 2007
♥ Thursday, September 06, 2007
Have you ever felt what it's like to be unloved? Out of love?
Do you know what it's like to lose something? Or someone, you really held close. Once upon a time?
Have you ever felt that sense of helplessness? Where you are reaching out. To someone, somehow. But nobody hears you.
Do you know what it feels like to be in the water? In a sea of perils and ruthless cold. Drowning.
Felt the chill of the winter blizzard? Leaving what's on you only frostbites. Here and there. Until you're frozen.
Heard the rustle of the leaves above you? Telling you something you cannot hear Speaking a language you cannot understand But once knew.
And then, just when you're about to give up.
Someone swims across his ocean Crosses his road Sprints across his never-ending field And rescues you Panting, Dog-tired, Soaked to the skin.
You can see in the slight glimmer of light That penetrates the ocean's waves. A form, someone, something, Reaching out to you Like you once had reached out to someone else.
You can hear it through the vacuum That encloses you and all around His desperate attempts to save you Save him The rush and rustle of his hands Against the water Like the sound of the leaves But this you could understand.
It is the language where only you speak Only he speaks In the vacuum no one else can hear you Nor understand.
And then, you fall into an abyss, Defying physics, Breaking law, Contradicting reason, But you don't care.
Suddenly, the burst of air through your lungs Wakes you, From your dream of sanctuary Of your abyss.
And you are brought to reality. You get up. And you brush your teeth.
Have you ever?
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
♥ Wednesday, September 05, 2007
I'm feeling - heck, I don't even know what I'm feeling cause all that's bursting into my mind are random thoughts that actually make a lot of sense.
I read somewhere that new tests prove that attitude shifts can no longer be attributed to a woman's period. Apparently through a system of new tests, scientists feel that a drastic shift in hormones should not affect ones emotions.
I thought I agreed.
But on further tests of my own, I find that NO, that's so bloody untrue. I become very very sensitive around the time of mine. Usually I'm not a really hormonic person. It's like the usual oh-no-i'm-feeling-sad-right-now-but-i'll-cheer-up-after-some-ice-cream, and get over it half a minute later. Yet once a month I get so hypersensitive, even I can’t believe it. I try to do a good job of realizing why I feel so sensitive, and hide it from everyone - so I don't know if anyone has noticed, but these few days are always my own personal hell. For at least 4 days a month, everything that someone does (or doesn't do) makes me think the worst. I get really upset and stupidly upset. Being separated from the people that I care about the most has made me realize this; honestly I've never noticed it before. I can do fine for 3 full weeks, then BAM I miss them more than I can handle. BAM they didn't say goodbye before they left they must not care anymore. BAM they are growing out of me and I am still hanging on. I HATE these feelings. They make me feel weak and sad and stupid and alone. I want to cry and whine and beg with people to say goodbye but I don't because I realize that I'm just being oversensitive, and that this feeling will pass. (I don't feel this way all the time, because heck, I forget to say goodbye sometimes too). But I'm telling you, if you are not a girl then you have no idea the full wrath of emotion. It hits you like a ton of bricks. And it makes you feel really upset. To simplify it (because I know that it doesn't really make sense) it's like this: You've been working hard all day, and the only thing that keeps you going is knowing that when you come home you have a great sandwich waiting for you in the fridge. You want that sandwich so bad that you hold off on anything else just for it, and you toil through the whole day thinking and chanting your mantra of 'i want my sandwich i want my sandwich i want my sandwich' but when you get home, it's gone. Somehow, whether some stinky rat ate it, it mysteriously combusted, whatever, it's not there. Well, crap. Nothing else will satisfy like that sandwich would have. That's all you wanted, and now soup seems so unfulfilling. Spaghetti seems like too much trouble. Damn it, all you really wanted was that sandwich. You will grudgingly eat something else, but feel disappointed for a while, then eventually move on. (Don't deny it, I bet ten every girl's experienced it)
Well, really that's how it is. You want one thing, and when you don't get it. You can either make a huge fuss about it (which usually seems stupid to the opposite sex because basically they have NO idea why you're being whiny and not the sexy person they knew from the start) or grudgingly move on without the satisfaction you'd really wanted.
♥ Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Okay, I'm not particularly a crazy-bitchy-trend-fashion-star-what-are-you-wearing-to-the-emmys follower, but I seriously have to commend (AND UNCOMMEND) a few dresses. Let's get down to business, shall we? COSMOPOP Fergie. I'll start easy. Okay, I have to admit. Just look at her dress, okay, LOOK. It's just so shiny, so dazzling, so...beautiful. And her hair is gelled and combed and nice and...hot, like her make up is balanced and nice and shiny and goes like, really well with the dress. It's beautiful and perfect. Unlike her WITHOUT boy scout uniforms and checkers and other stuff, or this: Now can EVERYBODY just LOOK at the MONKEY. THE MONKEY. WHAT IS WITH THE MONKEY?! Yeah, I know Kipling loves monkeys and I have Kipling and yes, the monkeys are cute on Kiplings, but Fergie. Seriously. That doll reminds me of KingKong, except that now he's the hostage instead of that dude. He's hanging on your WAIST, Fergie, WAIST. Not cool! I'll have to disappoint you, Daniel, as much as I agree with you that Big Girls Don't Cry is a really good number for such a hot voice; monkeys are just not your thing, Fergie. Really not. Okay to just help me out a little bit with the monkey: I'll give you twenty, Daniel, that if you accidentally bump into her, lemon juice will start squirting out of her skin and she'll change her name to Spongey Sponge. She looks like a lemon, okay? Really. And Fergie. Please. Your hair is hot and beautiful and natural as it is so(PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) don't hurt your fragile strands of blonde like that, okay? (Oh, and I seriously, seriously, seriously want to buy her legs)
Okay, let's move on: Luciana Barroso
I am seriously buying up all the dresses of that fashion line. I rest my case. Luciana Barroso is a beautiful woman. The last one, I promise:
Have I EVER mentioned how much I LOVE Sandra Bullock. Look at her! JUST LOOK AT HER. She's radiant and as much juxatoposition-ing this is to her event (Premonition premiere) she is just one really, really, really, really, hot, babe. I think I'll never stop admiring Bullock. Especially after Lake House.
Okay, out.
♥ Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Let me show you a REALLY cute video from, I guess, my favourite movie of all time, even if I haven't watched it yet.
Hey, come on. Admit it.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
♥ Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Tear down the mountains, yell, scream and shout. You can say what you want, I'm not walkin' out. Stop all the rivers, push, strike, and kill. I'm not gonna leave you, there's no way I will.
And I'm telling you I'm not going.
- Jennifer Holliday, Dreamgirls
A lot of interesting things have happened since let's see, a few hours ago.
1) If everyone's been to my/daniel's/charis'/jerald's tagboard, you can see what's going on. Come on MATURE AND INTELLIGENT AND ATTRACTIVE INDIVIDUALS, do we SERIOUSLY need all this pointing fingering and screaming and lame-proving and go-back-to-pris'-tagboard-for-proof and erasing/deleting-someone's-links-from-my-blog THING?! Well for the love of all good and holy, I shall answer with a biggg fatttttt nooooooooo. Thank you.
2) I was THIS ( ) close to a CROCODILE!!!!!!!!! I was waiting for the chauffeur to drive the car by the foyer to pick me up from the hospital, and it was like really dark and I couldn't see/hear anything with my iPod on, and then my car swooshed by and my driver FRANTICALLY waved me into the car, and I was like WHAT?!?! and he was like pointing to the crocodile and I'm like @^$##%@&^#$^%#$^%#$^!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, I love my driver SO MUCH. Shall pester my mom to give him a raise.
3) I was singing the song from Sound Of Music, you know the starting one where Maria goes like "The hills are alive with the sound of music, with the songs they have sung for a thousand years..." That one? And I was being totally 1) spastic 2) lame 3) high and my mom was like o.O and my dad called, so he was like WHO'S SINGING and then mom put him on loudspeaker, and he started singing like this: THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC AND THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC AND THE HILLS ARE ALIVEEEEEE WITH THE SOUND OF MUUUUUSICCCCCC.
WHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA. I bet our driver wanted to laugh SO BAD.
4) I told my mom about the McD stalker!!!!!!! She was like *GASP ALARMED GASP ALARMED SCREAMMMMM* okay not literally scream. It was an INNER SCREAM. But then she was like thinking and thinking and thinking I THINK SHE WAS IN SHOCK. WHAHAHHAHAH oh no.
Okay, my day is overrrr.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
♥ Saturday, September 01, 2007
I shall share with you my latest Bianca Ryan craze, as much as I am in love with her.
I Wish That - Bianca Ryan I wish that This world was one world I wish that Love ruled on this Earth That everyone would try Try to take some time to show Some kindness That every life would be A life that knows No loneliness This is my wish
And I wish that There would be no wars And I wish that No one had to hurt no more And I wish that Everyone could see Only love is worth fighting for And I wish that All of us could live In a world where All of us could forgive And I know it's just a dream But I wish this could be
I wish that No tears would be cried I pray that, oh Peace comes to these times That love would be the light That would light our way Through all the darkness That all of us could find The loves to fill Our hearts with That is my wish
Maybe I ask too much Maybe I shouldn't try But only faith can take us Through these troubled times
I wish that Love ruled on this Earth
And I wish (And I wish that there would be no wars) And I wish (And I wish that no one had to hurt no more) And I wish (And I wish that everyone could see only love is worth fighting for) And I wish that All of us could live In a world where All of us could forgive And I know it's just a dream, oh And I know it's just a dream But I wish this could be
Oh when can I finally get over the whole craze?! Friday was SO FUN. I guess everyone came back together and it was just really really comforting. Okay I don't even know why COMFORTING was in there. But I just kind of like it. The feeling. It's not like any other. You see some people you haven't seen a lot, but yet you know them much better than you know the people in your current school. It's like returning. Only returning isn't anything bad, it's actually comforting. Okay I am using comforting again.
& ABOUT
i’m jessica
but you can call me jem
210693
fifteen
rvian
rafflesian
sph
nygbs
rgge
loves Jesus,
jessica tan,
netball,
gilmore girls,
fridays,
english,
guitars,
blue,
jack johnson,
and her latest craze john mayer
