User advisory. The following material is highly unstable, the product of a mind of questionable sanity. Proceed with caution and the author takes this chance to indemnify and absolve himself of any guilt that may arise out of harm, mental, bodily or in any other form, that may befall the reader in the process of, and as a result of the perusal of this document.

(cheesy opening music)

ello everybody...

goodness i'm in so many moods today...

like i'm bimbotic one moment... then i'm quiet and thoughtful... then i'm just plain mad...
then like i'm hyper... then paranoid... then i'm moody...

then i'm...
then i'm...

the echoes of my person shimmer across my memories...

and of course at some point or another i'm just totally melodramatic...
and to bad effect...

like now...

anyways...
i've just realised...

like seriously just...

just realised just right now that i used...

err what was it now... oh yar right...
that i just used "just" more than five times in the last few lines...

eh wait no...

oh yes...

i just (see! just again!) realised that i use "anyways" so liberally that i should just (and another!) use a line... or numbers... to mark where one bit of my ramblings start and another begins...

like before "anyways" just starts to rot and fester from overuse...

anyways...
(argh!)

i just (ding!) realised that i ramble incoherently and get totally sidetracked and flit from topic to topic with the attention span of a butterfly that had goldfish for parents and grew up watching too much tv...

and oh did you know that goldfish don't really have short attention spans it just (oh well i just (grr.) give up.) seems so cos we all they think that they'd get bored in their little bowls but actually they do focus and they can actually remember their owners and will swim expectantly for food when they see their owners approaching...

and seriously... i really wonder why...

wonder wonder wonder...
(wonder why i ramble so much... not wonder about goldfishes' attention spans...)

anyways...

since i had an "and oh did you know" moment i might as well go on an "and oh did you know" spree...
so...

and oh did you know that "cobweb" has its roots in the Middle English word "coppe" meaning spider...?

oh and did you know that "coppe" is short for the Old English "attercoppe"... from "ator", meaning poison, and "copp", meaning head...?

yes maybe the reason i ramble is cos i'm just writing to pass time...

and cos i don't really abide by writing about how i spent the day... not anymore... i remember i used to... that was like so yesterday... and so tacky... but basically not many days nowadays have much interesting going ons for me to write about anyways...
but i love reading about what goes on in other people's days (the juicy bits of course)... it's always so much more interesting than my life...

and so as i was saying...
i ramble is cos i'm just writing to pass time...
and thus... you... my loyal reader...

you have to suffer my intolerable idiosyncrasies...

(talk about melodrama...)

(dramatic pause.)

but nana-nana-na-na i don't care!

i'm so gonna get murdered one of these days.

hello...
top of the news today...


Heart of Glass


What is Your Heart REALLY Made of?
brought to you by Quizilla


ooh...
i have a heart of glass...

and at risk of sounding terribly cheesy...

once broken considered sold...
aww...

fawn fawn fawn...
over me me me...

goodness... i can be such a bimbo at times...
i should really stop now shouldn't i...?

well nighty then...

courtesy of leonard's blog, which was ripped from corrie's blog (which was ripped from dawn's)

Seven things that scare me:
1) being loveless (which, as i must point out, is far different from being sad and single.) ie. not loving anyone and not being loved by anyone.
2) slugs
3) stepping on snails (i think snails are cute. just not getting crunched anywhere near my foot.)
4) that the entire universe might just be a completely random occurrence
5) becoming an apathetic, ignorant person
6) being lost
7) waking up one day and finding myself deaf and mute, or paralysed, or mentally incapacitated

Seven things I love the most:
1) love (yes you read it right. i love love. in all it's myriad forms.)
2) music
3) God (yes God, though not necessarily in the religious sense. in the sense that there has to be someone in charge out there)
4) chocolate
5) hugs and kisses (fine. go ahead and laugh.)
6) singing
7) stars (the ones in the sky.)

Seven important things in my room:
1) paper and pen
2) telephone
3) books
4) flute
5) computer
6) bed (oh yes. i'm a veritable pig.)
7) hi-fi

Seven random facts about me:
1) i talk to myself (or at times it seems directed to various plants and animals but it's mostly just me)
2) i let people trample all over me (and that's quite fine by me. i can live with it.)
3) i dislike it when people say i should stand up for myself (i do. i stand up for my right to help others at my own expense.)
4) when i'm all witty and talkative deep inside i want to be quiet and introspective (and vice-versa. fine i have identity issues. but i can accept this duality; people should embrace the fact that we can never have just one persona.)
5) in formal situations, i'm particular about the quality of English that i read and hear
6) i procrastinate when i don't particularly fancy the task at hand (and yes i'm ashamed of it.)
7) i look at people when they aren't looking and think about what they're thinking

Seven things I plan to do before I die:
1) study music professionally
2) fall hopelessly (and hopefully mutually) in love (i'm such a sap.)
3) see the aurora borealis
4) get someone to show me all the constellations in the sky (seeing that i'm totally lost by myself and all i can see are Orion and the Southern Cross)
5) do something creative, something that isn't superficial (if someone publishes my blog it's one off the list. publish as in Penguin or Heinemann. not Angsana.)
6) get a house
7) write a will (the kind that tells people what i want them to hear after i'm gone not the kind that divides my fortune.)

Seven things I can do:
1) play the flute
2) write (both creatively and critically)
3) sing (or at least i think so. whatever.)
4) laugh, or at least smile at the smallest things, when i need it most (that God for that.)
5) cry (oh yeah. you should see me at the movies. sappy ones of course.)
6) dive (as in scuba, not blindly)
7) make a complete fool of myself (at times completely unwittingly.)

Seven things I can't do:
1) draw for nuts
2) handle written Chinese (yes i'm such a shame.)
3) stay angry
4) get over sadness
5) like sports
6) talk about sex without euphemizing (i'm such a prude at times.)
7) math (like totally.)

Seven things I say the most:
1) hello
2) nighty (this only when messaging)
3) huh? (i realise i do this to make people repeat themselves even when i got what they said the first time. don't ask why.)
4) okayyy (spoken with an upward lilt. can be used in agreement or in patronising someone.)
5) tsk (almost a standard when i'm cornered in an argument. or when i'm being insulted)
6) the name of the person i'm talking to and unfortunately irritated with (spoken with narrowed eyes, used as a sentence, with a pause after it.)
7) like

ello all...

quick note #1: i have turned on word verification for comments my blog... this is after i've received comments telling me how interesting my "articles" are and how i should pop by to such-and-such a website to check out their latest discounted products...

which are anyways of a rather unrespectable nature...

so from now on when you want to comment... please humour the computer when it plays that three year-old kids' game of asking you to type out exactly what's the bloated, distorted nonsense word in the little blue box...

at risk of lying to everybody by having quick note #1 ramble into not-so-quick note #1... i shall conclude it and go into today's post proper...

hello there everybody...

ooh everybody please go listen to The Last Time by Eric Benet...
me listening to it was like placing sweet, dark chocolate to bask under the warmth of the sun...
and melt...

...

there was a moment of horror there...

i've been sitting on my rump (and well in other less glamorous positions) reading Stephen King's Desperation the whole day...
the image of melting chocolate... when applied to people... didn't have the exact effect i intended...

but i suppose it's just me...

moving on...

i've realised that i'm hopelessly butterflying around when it comes to university courses now...
well i know what i'm not going to do... but heck...

i don't know what i want...

at times like this when i'm so deeply entrenched in what i'm doing at the current moment... university seems so far off my fickleness becomes laughable...

and poetic...

somehow... i think so...
maybe one of those people who are really studying now and have a better idea of what's poetic can tell me if it is...

moving on again...

goodness i'm on a streak tonight and i'm just going on and on and on...
i'm moving through what i've got to say so fast i can almost imagine some anonymous teacher-figure marking out huge chunks in red ink and writing develop this point! in huge underlined scrawls...

much like my essays back in school...

anyway i was just going to say that sometimes i go on so fast and write so much that i just feel that i'm banging my head against the wall...
much like the metaphorical tormented artist...
metaphorically speaking...

and finally... i've run out of things to say... and so i've saved this for the last part where i hope people who skip this entire post just to come to the end will at least read this...

well actually there's nothing else i have to say...
bwahahaha...

gotcha...

ello!

whee i finally have material to blog about...

"I close my eyes and see a flock of birds. The vision lasts for a second or maybe less; I do not know how many birds I saw. Was its number definite or indefinite? This problem involves the existence of God. If God exists, the number is definite, because God knows how many birds I saw. If God does not exist, the number is indefinite, because no one could have kept count. In this case, let's say I saw less than ten birds and more than one, but I did not see nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, or two birds. I saw a number between ten and one, which is not nine, eight, seven, six, five, etc. That integer is inconceivable, ergo, God exists."
- 'Argumentum Ornithologicum' by Jorge Luis Borges

this courtesy of Yvonne who showed me this problem to me from her Analytical Skills assignment...

and so i was like:

Regarding the first part of the argument, on counting. Counting and definition have no real connection to the existence of God. Whether or not God exists, there will be a number to the birds; we cannot say that if there is no one to count, then the number is indefinite, because it is not. It is indefinite only to us.

The second part of the argument draws a connection between God and the inconceivable. It is common to link God and religion with the inconceivable as both are acts of faith, faith being belief in that which cannot be proven. So it basically argues that if one saw birds, of a certain number that does not exist, to us, or in our surrent system of logic and thought, it is inconceivable, and thus proves the existence of God.

And this is where the argument fails. If it is inconceivable, is it not also indefinite? We equate an indefinite number with the non-existence of God do we not? Therefore, the two arguments, in being nestled so closely in theme and subject, are in conflict with with each other.

well well... it is after all the Argument of the Birds...

that was amazingly refreshing...

but of course my dear friends swimming through the peak of their academic careers now would all choose to disagree... they're all saying it's hectic and it's tough... and honestly...
i'm freaked out too...

moving on...

i think i've figured out why i've put written poetry to be put up here...

it's 'cos i, as a person,

let's repeat that...

it's 'cos I, as a person,

need to create... and since so far i've always been writing music... i can't put it up here and thus i can satisfy that sick need i have for approval... so i find other ways to have people fawn over me...
by writing...

i'm so damn screwed...
but aren't we all now...

bwahahaha...

anyways...

The Rosewood Sofa

I grew up within its arms so cold, so hard,
but blood-red, precious blood-red. Blouses with
chrysanthemum and carnation, proud and blooming,
but always thornless, clothed its cushions.
Mother-of-pearl inlays faced my back as I grew, and

I think they were beautiful, faces that showed pine and mountains, fishermen and
old villagewomen. I can't remember now.
Now, when I look back I see the wood's rose-hue aged and
blackened, wrinkles where grains of deep blood ran.
Old, enfeebled, it now hardly holds my weight; and I'm like

a springy shoot off its majestic trunk, a sapling from its fruit.
I am its love. And I will see
it age, its cushions tatter, its body break, and
die eventually,
and mourn.