Very personal. I doubt this will make much sense to anyone but me. This is for me, so I guess that doesn't really matter then does it?
I don't know why I always think that if I try hard enough, I will never have times like these. Like if I could just pay attention, I will some day learn what the exact moment is that triggers this. I used to feel bad about how I acted when I get like this. Anymore, I think this is just who I am, and I honestly mean what I say when I feel this way. Just because most people are too "polite" to tell the truth, doesn't mean it doesn't sometimes need to be said. I don't really care if that makes me the asshole.
I have been having such terrible days. I just don't care. I know that I am being abrasive. I know I am being impatient, irritable, and mean. I have very little patience for incompetence, even on the best of days. Times like this, I have none.
To B: If you don't want to do it, and do it right, shut up and let someone else do it. Don't half ass something, and then get pissed when someone else goes back and redoes your work. Don't get mad because I work circles around you. Stop pouting when things don't go exactly like you think that they should. If you weren't such a bitch, and didn't spend so much time worrying about everyone else's business, you might have more time to do a better job. Have you every thought that the reason you think nobody likes you, is because they don't. Have you ever thought that maybe since you have a problem with everyone, then maybe the real problem is you? Worry about your own business, stop talking about everyone behind their back, and quit kissing ass to someone's face and putting a knife in their back. If you could do all of that, maybe you might not be so miserable and might actually grow a life of you own.
I used to get so upset after a had a day like today. I would worry that someone didn't like what I said. If someone got mad at me, I would blame myself, because I am the one that's nuts, I must be wrong. It just hit me, that just because I have some problems, doesn't always make me wrong. It might make me at bit more blunt with my delivery that I should be, but you really shouldn't push buttons, unless you want to see what they do. Sure, I might have always backed down in the past, but maybe I've had enough. I used to feel like I needed friends so bad, that I would settle for anyone that would talk to me. Maybe I realized that I would rather be friendless than to let you push me around, in your subtle way.
I don't care. I am so exhausted from lack of sleep. I am so angry at ....everything. I am so sensitive.
I don't have time for chit chat. You don't really care how I am, so why bother asking? It's just these stupid games that we play with each other, where we can feel better about ourselves. How are you? Fine. And you? Pretty good. If I told you how I was really feeling, you would probably avoid me as much as possible in the future. My own family doesn't want to know when I feel like this. Why? Because if they don't know, they don't have to worry about it. They don't have to pretend to relate, when they really have no idea. Or even worse, try to convince me that if I wanted to, I could just snap out of it. Trust me, nobody feels like this, if they have a choice.
A nice middle ground would be nice. How is middle ground again? It's been so long since I've seen it, I forgot. I remember it's nice and I like it there. I hope that it hasn't forgotten about me. If effort alone could do it, I would already be there. I've just got to hold on. This too shall pass. It always does. And then again, it always comes back...
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
Feeling like I'm heading for a
breakdown
And I don't know why
But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
From: "Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty
WTF IS A HOLIDAY FOR IF U STILL GOTTA GO TO SCHOOL!
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
***Notice of Account Closure***
Account Name: Tridagerx
Offense: Unapproved Third Party Software
A third party program is any file or program that is not a part of the World of Warcraft software, but is used to gain an advantage in the game, such as increasing your movement speed or teleporting from one place to another beyond what is allowed by game design. It also includes any programs that obtain information from the game that is not normally available to the regular player or that transmit or modify any of the game files. Normally, this classification does not include UI modifications, except those UIs that require an external application to function.
Any external applications that are used in conjunction with World of Warcraft can cause quite a few unwanted side effects. Some of the major possible results of the use of third party programs can be instability of the game to the point that a player "crashes" from the game quite often. External programs can also be used to transmit viruses, spyware, and other unwanted programs into a player's computer. Third party programs can also be used to obtain information from the player's computer, such as account, password, and personal information.
If a player is found to have used such a program, he/she may:
* Be temporarily suspended from the game
* Have further action taken, up to and including account closure, based on the intent of the program
Access to the World of Warcraft account Tridagerx, and any World of Warcraft account associated with the payment information you have provided, has been permanently disabled. The account has been identified as having used unauthorized game modifications and thus is in violation of the World of Warcraft Terms of Use. The recurring subscription on the account has been disabled to prevent further charges.
Please review the World of Warcraft Terms of Use at http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/legal/termsofuse.html, which you accepted when you installed World of Warcraft and established the account(s). Section 2, Paragraph C details the limitations of game play modifications and use of any third-party or “packet sniffing” software. In addition, Section 3, Paragraph C, parts iii and iv restrict the use of any hack, scripting or macroing software which obtains information from World of Warcraft to gain a competitive advantage over other players.
Furthermore, any activities not intended by game design which affect the economy, the client, player characters or the world itself have a tremendous negative impact on the potential enjoyment for all players. The effects of these activities take many forms including a bloated game economy, server instability, and allowing unauthorized access to accounts, computers, and player data.
As a result, the account(s) will no longer be accessible and will not be reopened under any circumstances.
Any disputes or questions concerning this account action can only be addressed by the World of Warcraft Account Administration department. To learn more about how Account Administration is able to assist you, please visit us at http://www.blizzard.com/support/wowaa/.
Thank you for your understanding in this matter and respecting our position and all statutes within the World of Warcraft Terms of Use.
Regards,
Comesticus
Account Administration
Blizzard Entertainment
http://www.wow-europe.com/en/index.xml
Bye Bye my level 70 BT Equipped Warrior.
I'm uber Emo now.. T_T ...
it's forever gone from the EU armory...
I was like on my hunter. and checkurcheek whispered me sum bt gears. and i told him 1 of the bows dropped when we downed illidan. and he asked for my warrior's name i gave it to him.. he went on armory, checked and found out it wasn'tt here so he came back and called me a lier. i told him i'd get the link personally. and i couldn't find my warrior. so i was like wtf? i tried logging onto account manager.. and my acc was banned.. i was like ofmg wat did i do now i havent loged onto my warrior in like months. and... i saw my emaill and this shit was here.. cos my warrrior is on a notehr email im like omfg mudafuckers...fark blizz.. T_T...
rAY. btw i scked at my xams results.. dont ask.. ill tell when im feeling better....
Account Name: Tridagerx
Offense: Unapproved Third Party Software
A third party program is any file or program that is not a part of the World of Warcraft software, but is used to gain an advantage in the game, such as increasing your movement speed or teleporting from one place to another beyond what is allowed by game design. It also includes any programs that obtain information from the game that is not normally available to the regular player or that transmit or modify any of the game files. Normally, this classification does not include UI modifications, except those UIs that require an external application to function.
Any external applications that are used in conjunction with World of Warcraft can cause quite a few unwanted side effects. Some of the major possible results of the use of third party programs can be instability of the game to the point that a player "crashes" from the game quite often. External programs can also be used to transmit viruses, spyware, and other unwanted programs into a player's computer. Third party programs can also be used to obtain information from the player's computer, such as account, password, and personal information.
If a player is found to have used such a program, he/she may:
* Be temporarily suspended from the game
* Have further action taken, up to and including account closure, based on the intent of the program
Access to the World of Warcraft account Tridagerx, and any World of Warcraft account associated with the payment information you have provided, has been permanently disabled. The account has been identified as having used unauthorized game modifications and thus is in violation of the World of Warcraft Terms of Use. The recurring subscription on the account has been disabled to prevent further charges.
Please review the World of Warcraft Terms of Use at http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/legal/termsofuse.html, which you accepted when you installed World of Warcraft and established the account(s). Section 2, Paragraph C details the limitations of game play modifications and use of any third-party or “packet sniffing” software. In addition, Section 3, Paragraph C, parts iii and iv restrict the use of any hack, scripting or macroing software which obtains information from World of Warcraft to gain a competitive advantage over other players.
Furthermore, any activities not intended by game design which affect the economy, the client, player characters or the world itself have a tremendous negative impact on the potential enjoyment for all players. The effects of these activities take many forms including a bloated game economy, server instability, and allowing unauthorized access to accounts, computers, and player data.
As a result, the account(s) will no longer be accessible and will not be reopened under any circumstances.
Any disputes or questions concerning this account action can only be addressed by the World of Warcraft Account Administration department. To learn more about how Account Administration is able to assist you, please visit us at http://www.blizzard.com/support/wowaa/.
Thank you for your understanding in this matter and respecting our position and all statutes within the World of Warcraft Terms of Use.
Regards,
Comesticus
Account Administration
Blizzard Entertainment
http://www.wow-europe.com/en/index.xml
Bye Bye my level 70 BT Equipped Warrior.
I'm uber Emo now.. T_T ...
it's forever gone from the EU armory...
I was like on my hunter. and checkurcheek whispered me sum bt gears. and i told him 1 of the bows dropped when we downed illidan. and he asked for my warrior's name i gave it to him.. he went on armory, checked and found out it wasn'tt here so he came back and called me a lier. i told him i'd get the link personally. and i couldn't find my warrior. so i was like wtf? i tried logging onto account manager.. and my acc was banned.. i was like ofmg wat did i do now i havent loged onto my warrior in like months. and... i saw my emaill and this shit was here.. cos my warrrior is on a notehr email im like omfg mudafuckers...fark blizz.. T_T...
rAY. btw i scked at my xams results.. dont ask.. ill tell when im feeling better....
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The Journey from 1 - 70.
Would make a great composition especially for my exams.
lets pray i can somehow fit the topic into the exam question :(
I am writing this letter to you, to a shrouded unknowingness, a deep scar left upon my soul--that, which seems to have been an obscurity and the only reason for traveling through this maze of green walls. Before I ever realized it, I had become so engrossed and drawn to this enigma of the darkness. I am now arriving at the inner station. This has been a captivating and intriguing experience thus far, and to realize it is not yet over, utterly exhausts me. I have only eight miles to meet you, the gaping hole in my soul. The quietness of the green wall and motionlessness of the river is eerie, almost unsettling--the movement in the bushes became numb with an unnatural sleep. I am now sleeping this unnatural sleep as well; the air in my chest shortens and deepens, as if it were a foreboding omen lying ahead in the foggy darkness. Nearly two months I have been on this voyage, waiting, to meet you, a vague obscurity in my reality--I have seen more than I would like to see. This has turned into an atmosphere of death, death has followed life, it now awaits it, it peers at us, simply waiting, patiently. Like a snake waiting to strike, devour its prey, it waits for us. And like its prey, I have questioning life and death. Death; illness; both are misinterpreted approaches to death. You must wonder what I am speaking of; as do I, I will notify you the moment that I find the answer in this sea of doubt. I do not intend to mail this letter off because it is mostly for me. So, with this being said, I would like to describe my version of “Kurtz,” the Kurtz that I believe is the plug to this hole.
I am in the Jungles of Africa searching for you. I have traveled hundreds of miles to see you; I have survived attacks to see you; I have seen death, torture and slavery to see you; I have seen what, I hope, no other man should be allowed to see, simply to see You. You, you is a he whom I believe I may never see. You, to me, are a revelation, and in reality, revelations are not seen or heard with the senses-instead they are only perceived. That is what You are to me. A truth, a feature of this world-a gateway to another dimension that contains only darkness. The truth may be too hard for the human heart to endure. He is of enigmatical character, or so says the Russian man, the one with blue eyes. This Russian man is confused, I believe, which I may only believe to be my own foreshadowing of what is to come. This foreshadowing is an image of my boat, pushing along these green walls, along this muddy river, though this Fog, though Death, and trying to make sense of it all, but not being able to. Similar to predicting the future, the outcome can only be guessed, inaccurately. However, stating that all my experiences make no sense--now, I do understand that. Shall I bow to my knees when I meet the fateful hand of his?
So, I hear that you are ill; you have my sympathies; however, the bulk of my sympathies go to my helmsman, who, by the way, is dead by your attack. I had his rose-red blood spilling on my shoes--the spear that messed my shoes came from your people. Getting to You was not worth losing a man whom I have given recognition to, but it’s a bit too late. This angers me. Your timing could not have been worse. The helmsman was my partner; when I looked into his cold, expired eyes, we had a moment where time stood still and we became friends. Then I had to take my shoes off and through him overboard because of the cannibals I’m traveling with.
To you, Kurtz, I am ready to feel sorry for myself and address the sympathy that is within me. I am weak, yes. I have weaker morals than you, yes. However, does that make me any less of a person? So, is my destiny to travel down this deathful river into the heart of the Truth that you somehow may represent; and if so I hope that perhaps when I do come to your side, and, bow if need be, I will shake your hand and you will give me answers. Answers for my quest. You may tell me what you know about life, and love, and the existence of humanity-- the role evil and lightless matter have in the universe-- and how this oily mess spills from the hearts of men, and why. Why have I followed the path of liquid bordered by hollows of darkness and fog? And why I have passed dead corpses strewed along the forest floor like flowers in a meadow, death pouring like vapor from their gaping mouths, to get to you? Why have I embarked on this endeavor, simply to meet You? Crickets and fish and owls singing, and sprouting with life, hammered down by the presence of some ominous deathly aura that I feel may emanate from your being all throughout the Congo stretch. Why have I ventured so, and what is the purpose of this letter, but to try to let my mind grasp its existence? Oh, all these questions and the curiosity to find out! And so, you ask me... have I straightened my thoughts a bit--to perhaps make this voyage a bit more bearable without my questions haunting me so? And my answer for you, sir, is no. I suppose I will have to wait.
Would make a great composition especially for my exams.
lets pray i can somehow fit the topic into the exam question :(
I am writing this letter to you, to a shrouded unknowingness, a deep scar left upon my soul--that, which seems to have been an obscurity and the only reason for traveling through this maze of green walls. Before I ever realized it, I had become so engrossed and drawn to this enigma of the darkness. I am now arriving at the inner station. This has been a captivating and intriguing experience thus far, and to realize it is not yet over, utterly exhausts me. I have only eight miles to meet you, the gaping hole in my soul. The quietness of the green wall and motionlessness of the river is eerie, almost unsettling--the movement in the bushes became numb with an unnatural sleep. I am now sleeping this unnatural sleep as well; the air in my chest shortens and deepens, as if it were a foreboding omen lying ahead in the foggy darkness. Nearly two months I have been on this voyage, waiting, to meet you, a vague obscurity in my reality--I have seen more than I would like to see. This has turned into an atmosphere of death, death has followed life, it now awaits it, it peers at us, simply waiting, patiently. Like a snake waiting to strike, devour its prey, it waits for us. And like its prey, I have questioning life and death. Death; illness; both are misinterpreted approaches to death. You must wonder what I am speaking of; as do I, I will notify you the moment that I find the answer in this sea of doubt. I do not intend to mail this letter off because it is mostly for me. So, with this being said, I would like to describe my version of “Kurtz,” the Kurtz that I believe is the plug to this hole.
I am in the Jungles of Africa searching for you. I have traveled hundreds of miles to see you; I have survived attacks to see you; I have seen death, torture and slavery to see you; I have seen what, I hope, no other man should be allowed to see, simply to see You. You, you is a he whom I believe I may never see. You, to me, are a revelation, and in reality, revelations are not seen or heard with the senses-instead they are only perceived. That is what You are to me. A truth, a feature of this world-a gateway to another dimension that contains only darkness. The truth may be too hard for the human heart to endure. He is of enigmatical character, or so says the Russian man, the one with blue eyes. This Russian man is confused, I believe, which I may only believe to be my own foreshadowing of what is to come. This foreshadowing is an image of my boat, pushing along these green walls, along this muddy river, though this Fog, though Death, and trying to make sense of it all, but not being able to. Similar to predicting the future, the outcome can only be guessed, inaccurately. However, stating that all my experiences make no sense--now, I do understand that. Shall I bow to my knees when I meet the fateful hand of his?
So, I hear that you are ill; you have my sympathies; however, the bulk of my sympathies go to my helmsman, who, by the way, is dead by your attack. I had his rose-red blood spilling on my shoes--the spear that messed my shoes came from your people. Getting to You was not worth losing a man whom I have given recognition to, but it’s a bit too late. This angers me. Your timing could not have been worse. The helmsman was my partner; when I looked into his cold, expired eyes, we had a moment where time stood still and we became friends. Then I had to take my shoes off and through him overboard because of the cannibals I’m traveling with.
To you, Kurtz, I am ready to feel sorry for myself and address the sympathy that is within me. I am weak, yes. I have weaker morals than you, yes. However, does that make me any less of a person? So, is my destiny to travel down this deathful river into the heart of the Truth that you somehow may represent; and if so I hope that perhaps when I do come to your side, and, bow if need be, I will shake your hand and you will give me answers. Answers for my quest. You may tell me what you know about life, and love, and the existence of humanity-- the role evil and lightless matter have in the universe-- and how this oily mess spills from the hearts of men, and why. Why have I followed the path of liquid bordered by hollows of darkness and fog? And why I have passed dead corpses strewed along the forest floor like flowers in a meadow, death pouring like vapor from their gaping mouths, to get to you? Why have I embarked on this endeavor, simply to meet You? Crickets and fish and owls singing, and sprouting with life, hammered down by the presence of some ominous deathly aura that I feel may emanate from your being all throughout the Congo stretch. Why have I ventured so, and what is the purpose of this letter, but to try to let my mind grasp its existence? Oh, all these questions and the curiosity to find out! And so, you ask me... have I straightened my thoughts a bit--to perhaps make this voyage a bit more bearable without my questions haunting me so? And my answer for you, sir, is no. I suppose I will have to wait.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
You were everything I wanted.
You were everything a girl could be.
Then you left me brokenhearted
Now you don't mean a thing to me
All I wanted was your
Love love love love love love
Hate is a strong word
But I really really really don't like you
Now that it's over
I don't even know what I liked about you
Brought you around
And you just brought me down.
Hate is a strong word.
But I really really really don't like you.
I really don't like you.
Thought that everything was perfect
Isn't that how it's supposed to be?
Thought you thought that I was worth it
Now I think a little differently
All I wanted was your
Love love love love love love
Would like to apologise bout my previous post on my teacher miss yvonne chong AGAIN..
and tat was bulshit bout the measuring my dick and shit..
You were everything a girl could be.
Then you left me brokenhearted
Now you don't mean a thing to me
All I wanted was your
Love love love love love love
Hate is a strong word
But I really really really don't like you
Now that it's over
I don't even know what I liked about you
Brought you around
And you just brought me down.
Hate is a strong word.
But I really really really don't like you.
I really don't like you.
Thought that everything was perfect
Isn't that how it's supposed to be?
Thought you thought that I was worth it
Now I think a little differently
All I wanted was your
Love love love love love love
Would like to apologise bout my previous post on my teacher miss yvonne chong AGAIN..
and tat was bulshit bout the measuring my dick and shit..
Monday, September 3, 2007
:D lol
It's the September holidays.. Exams are gnnna start soon.
:D I'M LEVEL 63 on my Nightelf Hunter in WoW.
I think Grace Leong is soo hawt and cute.
Eatin Oreos and dwnloading songs.
Btw my Speakers PWN THE ASS Out of anything! :D
Subwoofers are the shit of all shit.
I h4x0rz Games..
My AmATHS STill sucks.
I got nothing better to do..
and sorry for not updating
-Ray/Dick
btw i still think of Rebecca and do talk abt her.
btw i apologise for umm all those fckign prank calls frm me freinds :D wish u all the best!
MISS YVONNE CHONG Is SOO SCARED OF ME! SHE KEEPS REFUSING TO TEACH OUR CLASS..!! HAHHAHA OWNED! PWNED. and i wont accept any other reason ur gonna give :D oh yeh i forgive u for ur past mistakes its all cool :)
This is the potential gay song. :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
wE GOT a along dick till u take that. now all i want is my dildos back. did u get tat? lemme repeat that. I want my dildos back!>.<"
This blog has officially been trashed by Dick..
( )
| |
| |
| |
| |
( )( ) MY COCk's almost 5 inches..:D Measured it. and i shaved.. :] *nananana* the Pong ping song..
It's the September holidays.. Exams are gnnna start soon.
:D I'M LEVEL 63 on my Nightelf Hunter in WoW.
I think Grace Leong is soo hawt and cute.
Eatin Oreos and dwnloading songs.
Btw my Speakers PWN THE ASS Out of anything! :D
Subwoofers are the shit of all shit.
I h4x0rz Games..
My AmATHS STill sucks.
I got nothing better to do..
and sorry for not updating
-Ray/Dick
btw i still think of Rebecca and do talk abt her.
btw i apologise for umm all those fckign prank calls frm me freinds :D wish u all the best!
MISS YVONNE CHONG Is SOO SCARED OF ME! SHE KEEPS REFUSING TO TEACH OUR CLASS..!! HAHHAHA OWNED! PWNED. and i wont accept any other reason ur gonna give :D oh yeh i forgive u for ur past mistakes its all cool :)
This is the potential gay song. :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
wE GOT a along dick till u take that. now all i want is my dildos back. did u get tat? lemme repeat that. I want my dildos back!>.<"
This blog has officially been trashed by Dick..
( )
| |
| |
| |
| |
( )( ) MY COCk's almost 5 inches..:D Measured it. and i shaved.. :] *nananana* the Pong ping song..
Monday, July 16, 2007
woots.. Long time!! haha haven't updated yeh.
Well i'll guess i have to summarise everything i've been through in just one post!
Life is pretty rock at the moment. I'm at the 3rd term of school, and i still havent pulled up my socks and go look for a tuition teacher, instead i'm just lazing around at home playing computer games (World Of WarCraft). God i really i've got a computer addiction!
My dad has finnaly moved out of his old shop in Q'way 01-28 after like umm 28 over years i suppose which is a very long time.. He's shifted to another unit at the second floor 02-05, which is uber boring to be at..The Traffic Flow of customers just ain't right!.
School!!Yeah got loads to rant about!!Especially about Yvonne! Guesss what? She's not teaching our class English anymore,it's sort of a dissapointment and a relief.. The class misses her dearly and all of them are blaming me for the loss of their beloved teacher, i honestly don't give a damn about it lol! Instead i got a fresh piece of meat to fry now :D I got Olivia Oon.. :D She's English, by that i mean british of course. She's not too bad looking.. I like the way she says my name in class, she over does it by pronouncing the Dique ( too fast). But still we do get to see her for Music Lessons every Tuesday, which is tomorrow.
The Inter Class soccer competition is up and going right now.. Recruitment for the class has started and i'm the " Captain"*cough* A lousy captain. Yeah i suck at soccer big time! But sadly this year our class doesn't have the right players we used to have when we were back in sec 2 and 1.. We had those superstars " Zasli,Haikal,Yan,Tien Yue,Caleb. Lol. But at least we've got Marc,Ishpal,Hong Tai and a good keeper Andrew..(Although i hate to admit it, Andrew makes a really good keeper. We've been having regular practices lately, cos we just don't wanna lose. BADLY!! yeah we're gonna lose fer sure! But just hope it won't be a really bad lose.
Home.. My house is mess up. My mom and me have been hunting for some good cheap condos around the area, cos the owner of this shitty apartment wants us out..Yeah i've seen some good ones.. Just that my dad ain't helping out with the tight budget he's got. But i hope he makes do with whatever he can afford to spend at the moment.
W
Well i've gotta go play my game now!I'll keep you guys updated though. hopefully at least once a month
Well i'll guess i have to summarise everything i've been through in just one post!
Life is pretty rock at the moment. I'm at the 3rd term of school, and i still havent pulled up my socks and go look for a tuition teacher, instead i'm just lazing around at home playing computer games (World Of WarCraft). God i really i've got a computer addiction!
My dad has finnaly moved out of his old shop in Q'way 01-28 after like umm 28 over years i suppose which is a very long time.. He's shifted to another unit at the second floor 02-05, which is uber boring to be at..The Traffic Flow of customers just ain't right!.
School!!Yeah got loads to rant about!!Especially about Yvonne! Guesss what? She's not teaching our class English anymore,it's sort of a dissapointment and a relief.. The class misses her dearly and all of them are blaming me for the loss of their beloved teacher, i honestly don't give a damn about it lol! Instead i got a fresh piece of meat to fry now :D I got Olivia Oon.. :D She's English, by that i mean british of course. She's not too bad looking.. I like the way she says my name in class, she over does it by pronouncing the Dique ( too fast). But still we do get to see her for Music Lessons every Tuesday, which is tomorrow.
The Inter Class soccer competition is up and going right now.. Recruitment for the class has started and i'm the " Captain"*cough* A lousy captain. Yeah i suck at soccer big time! But sadly this year our class doesn't have the right players we used to have when we were back in sec 2 and 1.. We had those superstars " Zasli,Haikal,Yan,Tien Yue,Caleb. Lol. But at least we've got Marc,Ishpal,Hong Tai and a good keeper Andrew..(Although i hate to admit it, Andrew makes a really good keeper. We've been having regular practices lately, cos we just don't wanna lose. BADLY!! yeah we're gonna lose fer sure! But just hope it won't be a really bad lose.
Home.. My house is mess up. My mom and me have been hunting for some good cheap condos around the area, cos the owner of this shitty apartment wants us out..Yeah i've seen some good ones.. Just that my dad ain't helping out with the tight budget he's got. But i hope he makes do with whatever he can afford to spend at the moment.
W
Well i've gotta go play my game now!I'll keep you guys updated though. hopefully at least once a month
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
I couldn’t give a damn whether the chicken or the egg came to existence
first.
My inquiry is along the line of colors, fruits and the meaning of life.
Surprisingly I have found an interesting liaison concatenating these three
elements.
Consider the orange fruit. The flagrant joyous delicacy that flourishes
within the trees of Florida and is encapsulated within crates on the
doorsteps of the people in america each winter. Perfectly orbed, as if it was the
emanation of a master meatball roller, the orange fruit is a gem amongst the
fallible bananas, mangos and apples of the times.
There is no question about the consummate and old reliable orange fruit. It
is round. You can count on it. Underneath the barrier of the orange fruits
contemptible peel, the corpulent segments of the bountiful globe are genial
and relishing... Hence, I perceive the orange fruit as an
excellence in its kind. In delineating this fruit I cannot help but come
across a conundrum of question to the color of the orange fruit. Seventy-two out of
Eighty people commuting the streets of Orchard Road on a given Saturday
afternoon will agree that the color of the orange fruit is, infact, the color
“orange.”
Did the color orange exist before the orange fruit came to exist? Let us
say that the color of orange existed first. Some plant germinating science
freak of 9999BC colors the Purple Fruit a shade of orange... therefore it
shall be christened “Orange Fruit.” Or on the opposition, let us say that there was
a Special Fruit. A man discovered that his neighbors face was the color of the
Special Fruit. The Special Fruit’s color was named Orange after the neighbor,
Mr. Gregory Orange. The name of the Special Fruit was gradually conceived
from the name of Mr. Gregory Orange because, hey, the fruit is orange just
like his face.
Where ever did the color and fruit cross? Was it so simple as a
misunderstanding and mocking of a certain Mr. Gregory Orange? Surely
there is a purpose for the two elements to be so intertwined in one another's
meanings. For the fruit and the color shall ever be cooperatively defined as:
A reddish-yellow color. That is all.
Classrooms become fashion shows where meaningless discussions of
music, sports and entertainment proliferate. Hallways become brutal
canvases where the self-proclaimed “incrowd” can paint a masterpiece of
cruelty and ostracization with fear of receiving the same type of contempt,
prejudice, violence, anger. One must contend with the fact that they are
fruitless, burdensome and useless in a world of beautiful, happy people.
I am merely a pawn, a stepping stone, that is used for others triump hant parades.
Sometimes we have to find out for ourselves who we are. Existing is
not enough. We must question our purpose. For it is not until then that we
know what we ought to do. Any Orange Fruit certainly has a lot of thinking
to do as to it’s own purpose, as it’s identity is stolen by a member of the
prism. As I sit and watch life through a looking glass I question: Did I
bring life or did life bring me? Which came first... Me or Life? And where ever
was the point that the two of us crossed? ... I do not recall any instances.
first.
My inquiry is along the line of colors, fruits and the meaning of life.
Surprisingly I have found an interesting liaison concatenating these three
elements.
Consider the orange fruit. The flagrant joyous delicacy that flourishes
within the trees of Florida and is encapsulated within crates on the
doorsteps of the people in america each winter. Perfectly orbed, as if it was the
emanation of a master meatball roller, the orange fruit is a gem amongst the
fallible bananas, mangos and apples of the times.
There is no question about the consummate and old reliable orange fruit. It
is round. You can count on it. Underneath the barrier of the orange fruits
contemptible peel, the corpulent segments of the bountiful globe are genial
and relishing... Hence, I perceive the orange fruit as an
excellence in its kind. In delineating this fruit I cannot help but come
across a conundrum of question to the color of the orange fruit. Seventy-two out of
Eighty people commuting the streets of Orchard Road on a given Saturday
afternoon will agree that the color of the orange fruit is, infact, the color
“orange.”
Did the color orange exist before the orange fruit came to exist? Let us
say that the color of orange existed first. Some plant germinating science
freak of 9999BC colors the Purple Fruit a shade of orange... therefore it
shall be christened “Orange Fruit.” Or on the opposition, let us say that there was
a Special Fruit. A man discovered that his neighbors face was the color of the
Special Fruit. The Special Fruit’s color was named Orange after the neighbor,
Mr. Gregory Orange. The name of the Special Fruit was gradually conceived
from the name of Mr. Gregory Orange because, hey, the fruit is orange just
like his face.
Where ever did the color and fruit cross? Was it so simple as a
misunderstanding and mocking of a certain Mr. Gregory Orange? Surely
there is a purpose for the two elements to be so intertwined in one another's
meanings. For the fruit and the color shall ever be cooperatively defined as:
A reddish-yellow color. That is all.
Classrooms become fashion shows where meaningless discussions of
music, sports and entertainment proliferate. Hallways become brutal
canvases where the self-proclaimed “incrowd” can paint a masterpiece of
cruelty and ostracization with fear of receiving the same type of contempt,
prejudice, violence, anger. One must contend with the fact that they are
fruitless, burdensome and useless in a world of beautiful, happy people.
I am merely a pawn, a stepping stone, that is used for others triump hant parades.
Sometimes we have to find out for ourselves who we are. Existing is
not enough. We must question our purpose. For it is not until then that we
know what we ought to do. Any Orange Fruit certainly has a lot of thinking
to do as to it’s own purpose, as it’s identity is stolen by a member of the
prism. As I sit and watch life through a looking glass I question: Did I
bring life or did life bring me? Which came first... Me or Life? And where ever
was the point that the two of us crossed? ... I do not recall any instances.
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