Spies do not look like spies

Exams are OVER. I don't feel like blogging. So there.

(Zz. Wasted a perfect, witty paradox title.)

This little piggy went to the market....

And this little piggy PWNED THE WHOLE WORLD
Even though the news keeps telling us we're not gonna get it from the pigs, the irrationally paranoid side of me tells me to stay away from pork. The rest of me complains.

...

Hunger. It's emotional.

Day 3 of the long weekend. Put my time to relatively good use so far, and so that probably means this it about the time when I feel like I've got the right to slack off. I'm usually wrong. Still, I'm hoping the MYEs will turn out better than a shitbag 2.7. It's HAS to be. If not I become disenchanted liao. Meaning full-throttle slacking.

I'm spending entire mornings on MTV, and so I got to see a couple of new vids. Green Day's Know The Enemy is athemn-ic, but not really intelligent. And not as politically agrro as I hoped. Hey Monday's Homecoming feels alot like CrushCrushCrush. And now I realised that I've heard it during FOB's concert. Just that I didn't know that was it. Talentless black hip-hop dudes continue to irritate the shit outta me with their songs (loosened definition) about how many times they did everyone's mom. Timberland DIES. Always leeching the talent off other artistes. Like, "Timberland feat. Poor Guy". With Poor Guy being a poor guy who got abused career-ly and probably sexually by the big T.

Okay, so Taylor Swift is pretty cool. (Josh hears this and comes after me with a "Kaoss Pad" or something.) As in, she makes up for her participation in the big evil Disney world domination plan by being drop-dead Greek goddess beautiful.

Remember when I thought Pretty. Odd. sucks? Well, my heart unbroke and now I like it alot. As in, it's a nice change from song after song of punk/emo/rock. And pretty poetic lyrics. They say it sounds like the Beatles. Then in that case the Beatles are pretty okay.

Oh yea, the Beatles. I just realised pural band names and sorta retarded. As in, a member of the Ting Tings is a Ting Ting?

And I found out that MJ had this song call P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) You don't need a psychology degree to figure out this shows the workings of a screwed head.

Just watched Ghost Whisperer. When I die, I'm gonna haunt Jennifer Love Hewitt forever. I'll never "go into the light". There be two very big reasons to stay. Nudge nudge wink wink.

Zz. This post is a MESS of randomness.

I know it's mad but if I go to hell

Would you come with me or just leave?

I know it's mad but if the world was ending

Would you kiss me or just leave, just leave me?

~Do You Know What I'm Seeing? by Panic(!) at the Disco

Robbing Lips

And kissing banks.

MYEs loom ahead, and I scream my ass off on a regular basis now. Following my previous post, I've started semi-mugging, and it feels like shit. But I guess I'll need to adapt. At least I can imagine that kinda relief when all the papers arre dead and gone. And a better GPA will be coming my way. It's only fair. I still stubbornly (naively?) believe in fairness.

When I go out, I realise I get pissed at alot of people. Stupid ones, stuck-up ones, noisy ones. SOOO many assholes in the world. In a way, I've don't really care about them, as individuals. I just hate those types of people. Uh....huh.

But when I was heading home today, everyone of the MRT escalator either moved to the left/walked down the right. Which was pretty impressive. Just saying.

This swine flu thing's got me bloody terrified. Coupled with the revival of an old phobia, my mind's not a nice place to be now. When SARS hit, I guess I was old enough to understand the concept of a disease but I could grasp the big thing of death. Now I can do both. And it sucks, really.

It's cool to know that someone (hi) has the same...issues as me, but it also sucks that another person's feeling screwed. Kinda like flunking and hoping others flunk along with you. If you maintain a 3.5 GPA consistently, the above line didn't make a single crap of sense. Yea, I know.

I'm just blogging coz I should, and because there are more readers now, which is cool. Hi, new readers. Come back and bring all your young, tender and pedolicious friends with you.

(The Michael Jackson in me laughs a gay laugh, makes a suggestive gesture with his diamond-studded glove, and starts to moonwalk.)(Meanwhile, Xiaohui sings Smooth Criminal in his sleep.)

...sorry. I love MJ.

Anyway, hopefully I'll post something less crappy the next time. Keep reading. (Gawd, this is despo.)

The ink is running of the page

It's chasing off the days

Look back at boat feet and that winding knee

I missed your skin when you were East

You clicked your heels and wished for me

Sheepish Wolves

I didn't plan to blog today, but i suddenly had quite a few thoughts in my head which naturally just arranged themselves in my head into a blog post. So here I am, blogging under the pretext of doing GPP. Which I tell myself that I will get around to later.

I just talked to Mu Tang about drum lessons coz I was interested but yet very wary of committing to, because I don't wanna be a quitter. And the evidence of history says I am. CCA, etc., etc.. Which led to me thinking about how my CCA got to be so screwed. Along with the recent crappy results, an emo epiphany suddenly occurred.

Anyway, the thoughts in my head are mainly just about feeling sorry for myself. It's the SYF season, and CCAs are doing well/sucking/whatever, but the point is that they're achieving something. They put in blood, sweat and tears and now they're getting that kind of satisfaction back. The sort I rarely get a taste of.

Because, I've never really worked hard for anything, I don't really get anything back. And looking at my current situation, it's really sad. My CCA's a dead end and my studies are shrivelling up in the dust. I have even lost that thrill that I get after exams coz that feeling is a sort of relief that I can stop mugging now. But I never mugged in the first place.There's no shift in lifestyle. I'll just continue slacking my ass off, like before the exams. No contrast, no effort, no results.

To my horror, as I type this, my parents' advice are becoming logical now. "It's a slippery slope," Dad says. And I guess it is. Coz now that I'm in a (let's face it) pretty crappy class, sucking at a test doesn't feel that...dishonorable coz 50% percent of my friends are doing even worse. I hear the gnashing of a vicious cycle.

I guess this just shows how much my attitude sucks. I'm aware of all my shortcomings, but I don't give enough of a damn to do anything about it. I don't think it's an issue of motivation/ambition. I'm sceptical that overachievers are haunted by a good future as they mugged their Physics late into the night. I think it's more of a personal thing. That rush to the head when they see that really sick report card. Or maybe it's the glory.

And CCA... I'm so sickened by it I don't even wanna talk about it. Not sickened of the CCA itself, but sickened of what a horrible failure I am. Every time someone makes a ponning joke, I add in another line and laugh it off. But sometimes I feel that it's ridiculous that I've achieved a grand total of 0 things in my CCA career.

All I want is to be able to hold my head high at graduation. And to go through life proud of how I'm living.

Is this too overdramatic?

Am I'm playing the tragic hero?

Am I talking bullshit?

Did I bare too much of my thoughts?

I only rely on a few trusted ones for an accurate judgement of who I am, and I don't know how to perceive myself.

Your vote counts, etc..

Gonna be posting soon cause I've got Internet again. Yea, some teenagers still don't have a stable Internet connection. Break the vicious cycle of poverty/hunger/sexual diseases Intenetlessness. Call 1800-FEED-DURAI now. That's 1800-3333-38724.

Legal bullshit disclaimer: This donation/scam method may or may not be affliated with T.T Durai. If all your well-meaning money goes into making a golden toilet bowl for the aforementioned bitchface, Durai and Scammers Ptd is o to be held liable. But don't worry, you can always take it out on that emo monk dude.

Creating the perfect hell

Something big is happening. I may die.

This weekend's pretty slack, save for a physics thing. Whatver. I feel sorta random so I guess this post's just gonna lead off with me rambling ans shambling on and on about stuff.

I hate worrying, and yet I hate knowing what's gonna happen. As in, if it's gonna be bad. It's a head on conflict which doesn't make any bloody sense. I'm a damn hardcore escapist. As in, escapism -- escapist. Whenever something huge is gonna come and kick my ass, my natural reaction is to pummel MCR into my ears and stick my head into a hole which the ostrich just vacated. Pretty gay, actually. As in, not facing up to anything. I need the crisis to catch up to me and scream in my face before I even decide to do a shit.

That's something seriously screwed about me.

Everything's so damn relative I can't even find absolute extremes in life anymore. That kid who uses 2ndhand textbooks is nothing compared to the farmer kid in Vietnam who is nothing compared to that child solider somewhere in the screwed world who is nothing to someone who's just plain dead. Or maybe that's untrue. Some people always talk about death as a relapse, something to let you break free of all the shit in your life. Simply coz you don't have a life anymore. It's also damn scary how quickly perspective can change. In the morning you're worrying about if there's gonna be enough time for you to copy that math assignment and 10 hours later you may be freaking over how many stitches you're gonna need.

It seems that happiness is a give and take thing. Whenever you get something really good in your life it'll obviously be time for something else to screw up. It's all a balance. But as this thought rolled about in my head I thought of the abovementioned child soldier. There isn't any balance for him? I think there is. It's just that our A1s are replaced by his extra piece of bread and our broken handphones are replaced by his friend dying. It's all in context. It's all relative.

Damn, all my thoughts are thrown together in this one big mess.

I'm currently no emo, strictly speaking. Coz I'm don't actually feel sad. I'm feeling that weird sort of thoughtful melancholy that rainy days induces.

I was just trawling through the self-centered, pointless, superficial blogs of so many RVians and thinking to myself about how shallow it all is. Then I realised that I'm slipping towards hypocrisy, coz my blog also tell people who don't care about things that don't matter. So I'm trying to write something more....mature? Deep? Thoughtful? ... Yea, thoughtful.

And the cool thing is that no one will actually read this coz only coincidental passersby comes here. I'm writing to ghosts.

Wear me like a locket around your throat

I'd weigh you down

I'd watch you choke

Live In The Days Of The Phoenix

So stuff has been happening lately. As always. CNY came and gone. Nothing special about this year. Seems like the whole thing's been reduced to meals and gambling. Fine by me. There was a 6R class reunion which semi-flopped, meaning that the people I didn't care about didn't come. 3I's fine.

The fervert resolution of working hard is starting to fade. I know, it took a damn short time. Gotta make it permanent. I. CAN. NOT. SCREW. UP.

Today's Post-Birthday Day. Got Live In Phoenix. TYTQTYTQTYTQTYTQ. Fall Out Boy does not sound as close to their studio recordings as AFI does, but it's still pretty decent. Just 3 more days to the concert. ...

Saw the America's Suitehearts MV. Crap. If they're gonna go to hell like Panic!, I'm gonna kill them. And Ashlee Simpson. And Baby Bronx. I've realised Pete is a bloody limelighter, just like sooooooo many of the fags in school. Should ditch him. Bassists aren't hard to find. And hard to tell if they're good. Coz the bass is just, like, rumbly. And even though about a billion girls will detach from FOB fandom and I'll miss those killer lyrics, Pete should die.

Realised I'm boring all the non-FOB blind and deaf people with my ramblings, but WTH.

Oh, and for DotA people, this is cute: http://forums.dota-allstars.com/index.php?showtopic=268167

We're doing satires for ELit, which is basically a (ugly)girl-fest. Damn little guys. Anyway, satires are really cool. Lol. Will say more next time.

"I think there's a possibility that some of you guys were concieved through this song."

~FOB's Pete Wentz, introducing Beat It

"I remember when I was told of story of crushed velvet,candle wax, and dried up flowers

The figure on the bed all dressed up in roses, calling

Beckoning to sleep,

Offering a dream

Words were as mystical as purring animals

The circle of rage

The ghosts on the stage appeared

The time was so tangible,

I'll never let it go

Ghost stories handed down, reached secret tunnels below"

~Days Of the Phoenix by AFI