I Like Red Crayons

Springcleaning.
It's that time of the year again.

Off to guzzle Ikea meatballs.

Gripes

If there's one thing that's more convoluted than the small intestine of a Very Large Animal, it's Middle East politics.

Sadly, under more normal circumstances, I wouldn't be in avid pursuit of such knowledge for knowledge's sake. I would rather be directing my more frisky energies towards elsewhere, like reading Hey Nostradamous! by Douglas Coupland [which happens to be a capital-A sort of Awesome, if you must know]

But no! That is not to be.

I have, in a true psychopathical fashion, afflicted the pain of writing an essay on the aforementioned topic on myself which will doubtless have an extremely adverse impact on my brain and sanity because I have to make sense out of senseless wars which, surprise (!) is quite a difficult task. Given, most wars are hardly the most sensible occurences on Earth but.

Did I mention that they fight over bits of land? And icebergs?

I mean, come on! Fight about something more substantial. Like Helen of Troy and her Giant Wooden Horse or something. Then at least I'd have something to write about.

): I feel decidedly grouchy.

On a sidenote, everyone should read Hey Nostradamous!

This Cursed Rain

i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands. --ee cummings

I am not one to usually make personal attacks about someone else's apperance but when my aunt's friend told her precarious 8 year old that someday she would join the Miss Singapore Universe Pageant one day and win the title, i couldn't help but think that that was an absurdity in itself.

Now, that statement would have seemed perfectly normal to any one else but I, knowing better then to build up the dreams of little monstersgirls, realize that that child who is second cousin to Arrogance with the disposition of a bucking rhinosaurus (I am quite sure I spelt that wrongly, as usual), as well as the size and manners (or lack thereof) of one to boot with a chopstick of a brain, has a lower chance of winning The Title than I have of winning the Nobel Prize for, oh I don't know, molecular biology or something equally ridiculous.

But guess what! Today I heard that teachers now have to ask students for their permission before punishing them!

I guess that takes the cake then, complete with rhinosaurus horns.

On a side note, I might have to retract my earlier statement about her having a lesser chance of winning The Title than I have at winning a Nobel Prize, if the pageant yesterday was anything to judge by.

Nobel Prize for Physics/Math/Molecular Biology/Anything That I Am Remotely Bad At, anyone?

I told myself that I would finish writing my 'Zenzele' by 7pm. Now, with 8 minutes to the dreaded hour, I know that I'm not very good at keeping to deadlines. It's not that I don't want to do it. I do, actually. It's just that those iggly-squiggles of black don't seem to flow out when you need them the most and somehow engage in this sadistic game of hide-and-seek.

Incidentally, I was never good at hide-and-seek.

I always wanted to be found too much. The feeling of being alone for even those mere minutes, well, I suppose it was too much to bear. The silence, the solitude. I'd just roll over and hide in the most obvious corners and wait for someone to find me. For some strange oddity or another, I thought that holding my breath would make the wait shorter. It didn't, though; in fact it made it longer. And as ludicrous as it sounds, and I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, I used to try and make friends with the occasional lone ants that crawled my way. And even then, sometimes they ignored me.

I'd find the oddest collection of things under the bed. An odd assortment of half mangled stationery that wouldn't have fit in with the rest of its respectable counterparts on desks, with dust plaits hanging around their ears, queer bits of rubberbands that were used for purposes long forgotten. I even found the smashed remnants of a china doll once, with her smile broken into two equal curves. Sometimes I'd even find something that I'd been looking for for the longest time. But when I was found, the relief made me forget and a few days later I'd be back on a mindless search for it.

Well, you must think that I lived in a rather dirty house. No, not really. It wasn't anything like that. It's just that sometimes things disappear, and you don't even realize they're gone until you find them again.

And when you do, you find that they're heavier than when you last remembered.
Weighted with the nostalgia of being forgotten.

Top Few Reasons Why I Am Feeling 'Ngeh'

the weather didn't get any better; in fact it got worse. i am plagued by terrible headaches that make me inclined to snap at any unsuspecting geezer. but anyhoo, guess i had to trundle here sometime to check for dust and cheese.

blogger allows you to blog in hindi now. woo.

big nose smile (C:

that Avril Woman's song is stuck in my head. it's making me degenerate.

musicfest is finally over, although that feeling is slightly more complicated than 'ngeh'. we're dealing with a dose of nostalgia and relief here, amongst other unmentionable sentiments.

i'm attempting to do my lit essay, and failing miserably. i feel somewhat morose.

i have a headache

repeat i have a headache

I HAVE A HEADACHE. ): am extremely miserable.

will get better tomorrow.