Spending my weekend picking holes than watching the boys lose. Better kiss the title bye-bye since hope is no longer here.
I am glad 09'is almost over because since it started, bad lucks have been pounding on my back. Someone has mercilessly jinx me and he or she should pay the price. Have no clue on how I could get even with him or her but I will, I will.
Seeing how terrible we have been, I might as well unsubscribe the sports channel. This is not a sign of giving up, it is a sign of help. Help the boys be the boys they are meant to be. That sounds stupid but it makes sense to me.
The boys around me have managed to tackle my faith and dissapointment is an understatement to say the least. 'You might as well support Barnsley, they have played better'. Yes, I do have a very bad taste in friends, especially football buddies.
It is either everyone in the world is jealous of my boys or they find it interesting to poke me on my low days. A hard fact indeed to accept the latter but I believe boys have more fun laughing at me than their shittier male friends.
"Is she dead?"
"Nah she's just choking on the sight of us"
Fail because she would only choke on every vision of you. Unlike me, you can't fake a generous smile. :)
Spinning Thumbs
Been drowning my throat in Julmust and coffee. Not much of a coffee since only poofies would consider Hazelnut coffee as a proper coffee. Even the sound of it shows its' sissy-ness.
The thing I hate the most about Malls is the Ladies Department. Oh the horrors you are force to face once your cracking feet land on the territory. Like Spongebob, the perfume section is a challenge for me, considering I am allergic to all things flowers. Plus, the sight of the booth attendants caking up their faces every second doesn't help much.
I could not understand the amount of pressure my mom put on me in buying what she calls 'a proper sandal'. Apparently if it costs you 10RM, it is not proper. Guess she has been watching too much telly. I would like a new loafers since mine has meet its' old friends in the dump.
The day could not be better without Ricky's annoying voice. Teasing others of their vocal ability does not help you sing better.
..................
One and two,
twiddle my thumbs.
Three and four,
knock my door.
Five and six.
Drop your things.
- Yes kids these days are a bunch of weird monsters
The thing I hate the most about Malls is the Ladies Department. Oh the horrors you are force to face once your cracking feet land on the territory. Like Spongebob, the perfume section is a challenge for me, considering I am allergic to all things flowers. Plus, the sight of the booth attendants caking up their faces every second doesn't help much.
I could not understand the amount of pressure my mom put on me in buying what she calls 'a proper sandal'. Apparently if it costs you 10RM, it is not proper. Guess she has been watching too much telly. I would like a new loafers since mine has meet its' old friends in the dump.
The day could not be better without Ricky's annoying voice. Teasing others of their vocal ability does not help you sing better.
..................
One and two,
twiddle my thumbs.
Three and four,
knock my door.
Five and six.
Drop your things.
- Yes kids these days are a bunch of weird monsters
Reception of Your Affection
Funny how few people around me are well equip with disturbing wits. A line or two would shake my hairs off the punch.
Even better when your music playlist is mocking you with choices of songs it is playing. It is almost as if it knows exactly how you are feeling at the moment.
..................
For the past few weeks, I find myself to be cold towards people I am, evidently, in tune with. Bickering seems to be the only thing we do when we are face to hold a conversation. I know we share lots of common subjects but somehow I just could not bring myself in sharing my knowledge with them.
Sometimes, I feel as if it would be better if no one knows what I know. In things that people normally talk about. Being how intolerable it is to watch the grins on their dubious faces whenever I decide to paste my interests on my forehead.
Like a friend of mine would say 'You can see the pattern on others'. I never quite get the idea of patterns in attending your very passion for things. For obvious clarification, everyone notices the absence of those pattern in me that I should have possess.
Stapling a statement on yourself could be the most pathetic thing I can do. Like how most girls would wear all things football just so the other halves would pay attention to them. I am aware that this does not applies to all but I know numbers of them that feels the need to attain such quality.
The best reaction I have received is a nod of appreciation after stumbling upon the same item on the wishlist. We all know how both of us would smile like mad right after our backs meet. That is what I love about a silent conversation. The only thing that moves is the eyes but sometimes that only happens due to the shit airs we have.
Has anyone notices the similarity of sound in John The Revelator and Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)? Or this is another of my oblivion episodes.
Even better when your music playlist is mocking you with choices of songs it is playing. It is almost as if it knows exactly how you are feeling at the moment.
..................
For the past few weeks, I find myself to be cold towards people I am, evidently, in tune with. Bickering seems to be the only thing we do when we are face to hold a conversation. I know we share lots of common subjects but somehow I just could not bring myself in sharing my knowledge with them.
Sometimes, I feel as if it would be better if no one knows what I know. In things that people normally talk about. Being how intolerable it is to watch the grins on their dubious faces whenever I decide to paste my interests on my forehead.
Like a friend of mine would say 'You can see the pattern on others'. I never quite get the idea of patterns in attending your very passion for things. For obvious clarification, everyone notices the absence of those pattern in me that I should have possess.
Stapling a statement on yourself could be the most pathetic thing I can do. Like how most girls would wear all things football just so the other halves would pay attention to them. I am aware that this does not applies to all but I know numbers of them that feels the need to attain such quality.
The best reaction I have received is a nod of appreciation after stumbling upon the same item on the wishlist. We all know how both of us would smile like mad right after our backs meet. That is what I love about a silent conversation. The only thing that moves is the eyes but sometimes that only happens due to the shit airs we have.
Has anyone notices the similarity of sound in John The Revelator and Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)? Or this is another of my oblivion episodes.
It Takes Two to Make Sense
Two pence for bananas sounds banana to me.
At least that's how I had felt when Hanna told me she just bought bananas for two pence. But, today, I went to the store and found bananas for two cents. Yes, two bloody cents. At first I thought it could be a joke but just for a snort of amusement, we went to the cashier with other stuffs. Miraculously it went through and it was still two cents. We had a laugh about it and so did the cashier person. Never would I figure the same amazing fate would fall on me. Bless you Hanna, for sharing the luck with me. I may sound like a cheapskate but hey, who would want bananas for two cents, we would all go bananas for two cents bananas. Plus, the bananas are good. :)
.........................
Met an old friend from Secondary along the journey. It has been two years since we had spoken or seen each other. Indeed, she had grown up and looked amazing. How I wish I look more like her in the aspect of maturity she had potrayed. I was happy she and other friends are still talking about me and what we had done together two years ago. A meet up is a must since it would be lovely to see everyone after a while.
Two years ago I was still in school and spent half of the time sleeping. A friend reckoned eight of out ten times she passed my class, I will be asleep without even noticing the violent air.
Two years ago, I spent almost every after school days watching French boys walking along the old apartment. I had lived near a Lycee, of which I thought at that time was a stupid name for a school, considering my idiotic assumption that it was actually a Lychee and that French boys were cool (they're not).
Two years ago, during Christmas Eve, we spent time sitting next to the tree talking about World War two and of course Hitler and even PolPot. With cheap drinks as a fancy wine substitute.
Two years ago, how time flies. Where has it all gone?
At least that's how I had felt when Hanna told me she just bought bananas for two pence. But, today, I went to the store and found bananas for two cents. Yes, two bloody cents. At first I thought it could be a joke but just for a snort of amusement, we went to the cashier with other stuffs. Miraculously it went through and it was still two cents. We had a laugh about it and so did the cashier person. Never would I figure the same amazing fate would fall on me. Bless you Hanna, for sharing the luck with me. I may sound like a cheapskate but hey, who would want bananas for two cents, we would all go bananas for two cents bananas. Plus, the bananas are good. :)
.........................
Met an old friend from Secondary along the journey. It has been two years since we had spoken or seen each other. Indeed, she had grown up and looked amazing. How I wish I look more like her in the aspect of maturity she had potrayed. I was happy she and other friends are still talking about me and what we had done together two years ago. A meet up is a must since it would be lovely to see everyone after a while.
Two years ago I was still in school and spent half of the time sleeping. A friend reckoned eight of out ten times she passed my class, I will be asleep without even noticing the violent air.
Two years ago, I spent almost every after school days watching French boys walking along the old apartment. I had lived near a Lycee, of which I thought at that time was a stupid name for a school, considering my idiotic assumption that it was actually a Lychee and that French boys were cool (they're not).
Two years ago, during Christmas Eve, we spent time sitting next to the tree talking about World War two and of course Hitler and even PolPot. With cheap drinks as a fancy wine substitute.
Two years ago, how time flies. Where has it all gone?
Grass Mouth
I lost my Zennie and I don't have enough money to find a replacement. All I have now is Jango, of which you can't choose what you want to listen to. I sure hope a new player will be under the tree this year. The whole collections of musics, dissapear before me, like wasps in the bathroom. Heh guess I am capable of writing something daft like that.
Had the worst chat up which forces me to be rude and ignores him while I press 'sign out'. When all you are saying are umm, ooooo, things will definitely stop there. Hah that's all the gooners can think of after they robbed us a penalty. Damn you thugs, even Mase believed we should've won by 4-0. It is sad to see your team behind sniffing the aromatic scent of losing. We'll get back because we'll never walk alone. :)
You are as foul as their stench.
Though your grass mouth reclaims it all.
Had the worst chat up which forces me to be rude and ignores him while I press 'sign out'. When all you are saying are umm, ooooo, things will definitely stop there. Hah that's all the gooners can think of after they robbed us a penalty. Damn you thugs, even Mase believed we should've won by 4-0. It is sad to see your team behind sniffing the aromatic scent of losing. We'll get back because we'll never walk alone. :)
You are as foul as their stench.
Though your grass mouth reclaims it all.
But he's a ginger...
What do people have against gingers anyway.
We were talking about drums and stuff when he told me he knows a guy who's brilliant at drumming. Then he goes on saying, "But... he's a ginger...so...". As unfair as it sounds, he did discredit the guy for being a ginger regardless of how terrific he was banging the drums.
So the question is re-directed, what do you have against gingers? Have they done something terribly wrong in the past and lived without facing the judgement. Have they conducted a mass murder towards those who are not of ginger. I have not come across a history of mankind where gingers rule any area or such so that others would hate them for that.
It baffles me to see a remarkable mistreatment towards them. Well, I find gingers to be funny looking but that is it. Like Nicola from Girls Aloud, astonishing jokes targeted on her and yeah it is quite amusing but why. Cause she's a ginger. I don't mind seeing that weirdo Ron from Harry Potter being a constant ridicule to everyone but seeing all gingers being gingered? That's something.
To get things cleared, I am not a ginger, I just feel bad for the ginger. I know you would go "Well, if you feel sorry for them you wouldn't keeep saying ginger". True but I like saying ginger to the ginger. Might have sound like a total prick for calling them that, still, we call blondes, blondes and brunettes a brunette so why not ginger to the ginger.
If someone could explain to me why the gingers are being handle in whatever way, I would go on without trying to mend it. Besides, gingers brings colours to the world, eh?
I do know a ginger who makes nice pies, see I can be nice to a ginger.
Wonder if all gingers grow ginger plants.
We were talking about drums and stuff when he told me he knows a guy who's brilliant at drumming. Then he goes on saying, "But... he's a ginger...so...". As unfair as it sounds, he did discredit the guy for being a ginger regardless of how terrific he was banging the drums.
So the question is re-directed, what do you have against gingers? Have they done something terribly wrong in the past and lived without facing the judgement. Have they conducted a mass murder towards those who are not of ginger. I have not come across a history of mankind where gingers rule any area or such so that others would hate them for that.
It baffles me to see a remarkable mistreatment towards them. Well, I find gingers to be funny looking but that is it. Like Nicola from Girls Aloud, astonishing jokes targeted on her and yeah it is quite amusing but why. Cause she's a ginger. I don't mind seeing that weirdo Ron from Harry Potter being a constant ridicule to everyone but seeing all gingers being gingered? That's something.
To get things cleared, I am not a ginger, I just feel bad for the ginger. I know you would go "Well, if you feel sorry for them you wouldn't keeep saying ginger". True but I like saying ginger to the ginger. Might have sound like a total prick for calling them that, still, we call blondes, blondes and brunettes a brunette so why not ginger to the ginger.
If someone could explain to me why the gingers are being handle in whatever way, I would go on without trying to mend it. Besides, gingers brings colours to the world, eh?
I do know a ginger who makes nice pies, see I can be nice to a ginger.
Wonder if all gingers grow ginger plants.
For All The Reasons
Reasons are now substitutes to vitamins/pills.
For every action there will be reasons, and half of the time it is for a terrible action or of the wrong reason.
What bothers me the most at this age is coffee shops/houses. It is sad that the old quaint coffee houses are beaten by the modern-esque shit coffee. I for one find no pleasure in S____ucks or any other chain coffee shops.
If you had a choice:
Take a day sipping coffee at one of the chain shops and you'll wish your life has ended long before you step into the shop. Giggling symphony of girls exchanging gossips or latest trends, sounds of machines desperately "brewing" drinks and stuck up workers pretending they owned every customers.
Or
Spill your caffein-ated urges at the old proper coffee house and you will get a reverse effect of modernizaton. Clattering noise of cups and saucers, fresh blood of a paper cut from flicking the pages of newspaper idly and forgetful drinks attendants.
Which would be your preference.
I am not a coffee enthusiast but the atmosphere I had lived when sitting in coffee houses made me nonchalantly happy. The smell of coffee leaves being crush and drown in hot water seems palpable to me that I am not much of a modern bitch.
Finding the perfect coffee house here is something I have yet to achieve. Though, the coffee house near Eton was a remarkable experience. It was quite fun to sit there and enjoy your cup(s) of coffee while watching posh kids dreaming of their soon 'glorious' day(s). It was nothing like a fast agitating ambience I normally get when passed along those chain shops.
It is understandable that most working people buys coffee from those chain shops is due to the fact they are always chasing time. The only thing that bothers me is that kids these days take the idea of hanging out there for the rest of their lives as being cool and hip. Not only it costs more, evidently it costs your moral standpoint.
Withal, I cannot complain much as I am not a part of the chaos. Coffee makes your teeth yellow anyway. Might as well stain it with something rather invigorating like a cup of nice warm tea (any type will do) pairs up with a melting biscuits.
Modern people and their destructive weapons.
(Funny how I sound like a 100 years old tard)
For every action there will be reasons, and half of the time it is for a terrible action or of the wrong reason.
What bothers me the most at this age is coffee shops/houses. It is sad that the old quaint coffee houses are beaten by the modern-esque shit coffee. I for one find no pleasure in S____ucks or any other chain coffee shops.
If you had a choice:
Take a day sipping coffee at one of the chain shops and you'll wish your life has ended long before you step into the shop. Giggling symphony of girls exchanging gossips or latest trends, sounds of machines desperately "brewing" drinks and stuck up workers pretending they owned every customers.
Or
Spill your caffein-ated urges at the old proper coffee house and you will get a reverse effect of modernizaton. Clattering noise of cups and saucers, fresh blood of a paper cut from flicking the pages of newspaper idly and forgetful drinks attendants.
Which would be your preference.
I am not a coffee enthusiast but the atmosphere I had lived when sitting in coffee houses made me nonchalantly happy. The smell of coffee leaves being crush and drown in hot water seems palpable to me that I am not much of a modern bitch.
Finding the perfect coffee house here is something I have yet to achieve. Though, the coffee house near Eton was a remarkable experience. It was quite fun to sit there and enjoy your cup(s) of coffee while watching posh kids dreaming of their soon 'glorious' day(s). It was nothing like a fast agitating ambience I normally get when passed along those chain shops.
It is understandable that most working people buys coffee from those chain shops is due to the fact they are always chasing time. The only thing that bothers me is that kids these days take the idea of hanging out there for the rest of their lives as being cool and hip. Not only it costs more, evidently it costs your moral standpoint.
Withal, I cannot complain much as I am not a part of the chaos. Coffee makes your teeth yellow anyway. Might as well stain it with something rather invigorating like a cup of nice warm tea (any type will do) pairs up with a melting biscuits.
Modern people and their destructive weapons.
(Funny how I sound like a 100 years old tard)
Can't Get Enough
Of pissing people off for not turning up every time we set up a date.
Yes, apparently it's my hidden, most well known talent.
No reason can make up for my absence on your day(s) out. I'm a horrible friend when it comes to sniffing the polluted air. I much rather stay in the house with Bassie and foods abundant in colours, textures and everything else in between.
The only person I don't feel bad about ditching is the person my mother prefers me to hang with. It's terrible having to look at his face everytime I laugh once he turns his back on me. He doesn't look like someone I can have my gibberish talk with. I am positive he's interested in something else besides my weird sense of taste.
Well off without any disillusions of someone new approaching your being.
For you though, I can't help myself from enjoying hiding behind your back so that I will not be seen by those I do not wish to exchange words with. Guess nothing stays when you move around a lot. Like a daddy long legs catching up to me in the shower. Those little creeps.
Yes, apparently it's my hidden, most well known talent.
No reason can make up for my absence on your day(s) out. I'm a horrible friend when it comes to sniffing the polluted air. I much rather stay in the house with Bassie and foods abundant in colours, textures and everything else in between.
The only person I don't feel bad about ditching is the person my mother prefers me to hang with. It's terrible having to look at his face everytime I laugh once he turns his back on me. He doesn't look like someone I can have my gibberish talk with. I am positive he's interested in something else besides my weird sense of taste.
Well off without any disillusions of someone new approaching your being.
For you though, I can't help myself from enjoying hiding behind your back so that I will not be seen by those I do not wish to exchange words with. Guess nothing stays when you move around a lot. Like a daddy long legs catching up to me in the shower. Those little creeps.
Running for Woe
What lies beneath those features,
is a grieving winner.
Waiting for the air,
to take up his breaths.
Longing for the lost,
he waits.
To grow closer,
to what is no longer of her.
Murmurs and thoughts,
are for others to enjoy.
While he struggles,
for what is left of her.
P.s: Having you is not a part of me that I would love to keep.
is a grieving winner.
Waiting for the air,
to take up his breaths.
Longing for the lost,
he waits.
To grow closer,
to what is no longer of her.
Murmurs and thoughts,
are for others to enjoy.
While he struggles,
for what is left of her.
P.s: Having you is not a part of me that I would love to keep.
Burned Visions
Jumping through the currents,
she sings.
Of her paranoia and belief.
Forcing her thumbs,
to gesture love.
"Fly to me, my sweet serpents.
For you my love, I'll hinder"
Sands between her lips,
Crushed lies hanging off her cheeks.
She beg for nothing more than for you to speak.
Softly her hands deliver,
the long lasting sensation,
Of her burning visions.
she sings.
Of her paranoia and belief.
Forcing her thumbs,
to gesture love.
"Fly to me, my sweet serpents.
For you my love, I'll hinder"
Sands between her lips,
Crushed lies hanging off her cheeks.
She beg for nothing more than for you to speak.
Softly her hands deliver,
the long lasting sensation,
Of her burning visions.
Troubles of Memories
For the past few years, I had found myself in recurring flashbacks of the past.
Conversations between old friends stir up some old stories of my bad behaviour. It was nothing like a heist or teenage vengeance. It was more of a stretch of events that sums up my school's life.
They swear I would have become a bandit if I hadn't skip Grade 4.
Meh I miss kicking people's body parts. Pretty sure they miss my kicks too. Haa (_______)
Conversations between old friends stir up some old stories of my bad behaviour. It was nothing like a heist or teenage vengeance. It was more of a stretch of events that sums up my school's life.
They swear I would have become a bandit if I hadn't skip Grade 4.
Meh I miss kicking people's body parts. Pretty sure they miss my kicks too. Haa (_______)
Cruising Down the Road
“The wheels are faster than your hands”.
It is my first time driving. It is fun considering the bad essence that decorates the time during my lesson. As always, I land a spot in earning a well-craze exuberant man. He is fantastic, though his constant companion of chattering words that subsequently leads to dizziness fails to keep me on my two feet.
I guess it is a bad move to throw away the horse shoe since I have rapidly sinks myself into a deep dark hole.
The lesson starts off brilliantly, with a broken car and non-working air conditioner. However, all is good for me since the electrifying thoughts of driving make me feel like I am now much closer in becoming an adult. Yeah, driving will give me the power of excitement in cursing when stuck in traffics. (?)
When we arrive at the driving field, anxiety and freakish smiles kick in. After two gruelling hours of fears of running over the dog and immediate effects of u-turning for few minutes, the instructor delivers a manic idea, which is for me to drive on the busy roads if I manage to glue myself to the next lessons tomorrow. Mind you, the roads around my place are extremely intense and the people aren’t so ethical in driving.
Nonetheless, as happy as I did after the whole thing, my head beats me on raving and rubbing it off to my friend, who is not old enough to join me on this trip to road-kills. Countless more hours before I get to put my alluring skills to use. Or crying skill since that would make things much easier.
It is my first time driving. It is fun considering the bad essence that decorates the time during my lesson. As always, I land a spot in earning a well-craze exuberant man. He is fantastic, though his constant companion of chattering words that subsequently leads to dizziness fails to keep me on my two feet.
I guess it is a bad move to throw away the horse shoe since I have rapidly sinks myself into a deep dark hole.
The lesson starts off brilliantly, with a broken car and non-working air conditioner. However, all is good for me since the electrifying thoughts of driving make me feel like I am now much closer in becoming an adult. Yeah, driving will give me the power of excitement in cursing when stuck in traffics. (?)
When we arrive at the driving field, anxiety and freakish smiles kick in. After two gruelling hours of fears of running over the dog and immediate effects of u-turning for few minutes, the instructor delivers a manic idea, which is for me to drive on the busy roads if I manage to glue myself to the next lessons tomorrow. Mind you, the roads around my place are extremely intense and the people aren’t so ethical in driving.
Nonetheless, as happy as I did after the whole thing, my head beats me on raving and rubbing it off to my friend, who is not old enough to join me on this trip to road-kills. Countless more hours before I get to put my alluring skills to use. Or crying skill since that would make things much easier.
Coloured Reasoning is for Fools.
First of all, I believe I owe you an apology for not trying to comply with your basis of how we should live. Regret is something I have been taught to not agree to. Though, your lack of enthusiasm has pushed my limit of tolerance. Personally, I couldn’t give a slight of attention whenever you find spaces in mocking me. But when the false accusation you’ve thrown to me on being an arrogant and self-explanatory person is an absolute nightmare.
Basically, you are telling me, for me to be good in whatever it is I’m doing and wish to do, I have to know each and every person who had stamped the word ‘Best’ onto their forehead. I do admit I know nothing about whatever it is I am doing, but that’s only because I choose to not know it. The names you’ve mouth to me means nothing.
For me to be a good writer, I don’t need to know good writers. For me to be a good music enthusiast, I don’t need to know the legends of bands. For me to be a better being, I don’t need to look up to anyone. Call me whatever you will, because all the names you’ve hanged around your neck serve me no need to be an emulator.
So pardon me for being a failure in accompanying your vision of a good admirer of past time activities. My insufficiencies of participation in your imaginary success are an amazing source of anecdote. Yes, I only know Pushkin accidentally when I was actually looking for Pichushkin. Hey, nobody ever inform me on learning about other writers before you start writing.
Thus, all I can tell you is fuck off because you and your ‘amazing’ people know nothing about living my own life. I was once told, to be a writer, you should understand your own life as your words depicts your past, present, future and fantasies. Yeah maybe I’ve been taking advice from nut crackers, nevertheless I for one had received an almost perfect score in writing paper WITH spelling errors and inadequacy of fancy words and you didn’t. I hate to brag but none of your masters help me getting that.
As something to show you how much of a young insolent and petulant tosser you are, get a mirror. Trust me, it’ll help.
P.S: When you were bragging about how much you know about Mr. Shankly, though I know a little about him, it doesn’t take me a wikipedia page or a trip to library to know his first name in an instance. I actually have no clue what it really is but my ignorant brain works hard to recall what I had heard in my past dull years of my life.
Basically, you are telling me, for me to be good in whatever it is I’m doing and wish to do, I have to know each and every person who had stamped the word ‘Best’ onto their forehead. I do admit I know nothing about whatever it is I am doing, but that’s only because I choose to not know it. The names you’ve mouth to me means nothing.
For me to be a good writer, I don’t need to know good writers. For me to be a good music enthusiast, I don’t need to know the legends of bands. For me to be a better being, I don’t need to look up to anyone. Call me whatever you will, because all the names you’ve hanged around your neck serve me no need to be an emulator.
So pardon me for being a failure in accompanying your vision of a good admirer of past time activities. My insufficiencies of participation in your imaginary success are an amazing source of anecdote. Yes, I only know Pushkin accidentally when I was actually looking for Pichushkin. Hey, nobody ever inform me on learning about other writers before you start writing.
Thus, all I can tell you is fuck off because you and your ‘amazing’ people know nothing about living my own life. I was once told, to be a writer, you should understand your own life as your words depicts your past, present, future and fantasies. Yeah maybe I’ve been taking advice from nut crackers, nevertheless I for one had received an almost perfect score in writing paper WITH spelling errors and inadequacy of fancy words and you didn’t. I hate to brag but none of your masters help me getting that.
As something to show you how much of a young insolent and petulant tosser you are, get a mirror. Trust me, it’ll help.
P.S: When you were bragging about how much you know about Mr. Shankly, though I know a little about him, it doesn’t take me a wikipedia page or a trip to library to know his first name in an instance. I actually have no clue what it really is but my ignorant brain works hard to recall what I had heard in my past dull years of my life.
Placies? Playsees?
Poor guy, having to sound like a proper idiot saying all those things. Half of the time, I don't even have a clue on what exactly he is saying. Guess that's the reason the Castrol people put up a tiny bit of subtitles so that people aren't lost.
Heh the flashing money card made him forget that people are poking fun at him for this. Well, he might say 'I'm rich so who cares'. If he does have that in his mind, he is a proper idiot.
As good as you are in football or anything that you do, if you don't have self-respect, don't bother shoving in people's face.
Sick.
My dream of becoming a mini mullen was crushed by a mom. Yeah isn't fun being the only child with no moustache. She was terrified on the idea of me joining every sports boys are into. Heh I wish she had popped out another one so I can play sports.
A friend was teasing me about how much I'm interested in skateboard. 'It's all physics and since you hate physics, you should hate skateboarding'. Fair enough, except you don't need to calculate how a trick may be performed.
It's funny how physics rule every single shit. It's even funnier how much of a horrid subject it is.
World ______ Day
It seems that we are always in need of other's instruction.
World's Aids Day, Hungers Day, Pink Ribbon, Mother's Day, and other craps they can think of. Complying to these kind of programmes is a new way of life, for some. The only reason I buy cards during one of the 'Days' is because my loves would be expecting one from me. A sense of pride when joining the charade is not an accomplishment for me. I buy stuffs for my loves quite often, set aside the luxury. When a person bust their neck for money to get gifts, it's a sign your loves worth a shit.
Frankly, I couldn't give a shit during one of these days (Hungers, bla bla bla) since they are ruled by 'important people' anyway. Leonardo whateverhisnameis for the 11th hour, really? I bet those polar bears are kicking your ice-face for the green space you took in landing your cheap butt every night. Yeah 10 rooms for a person will save the nature. The probability of others to gag is much higher than you think when having to bear that horrid idea of saving the earth.
Ms. Jolie letsstealothershusband, ambassador of UN? Well, UN is not a real organization but still. How would you feel if a slag comes to you, sobbing to death to save you from dying ends up in high-end stores to get a cloth to wipe her magnetic skin. I do lavish myself sometime but I don't tell everyone to save a penny so there'll be another life on the other side of the world.
Why can't we do it ourselves. Send people who could care less of fame and fortune in helping those in needs. Those who are able to get in the mud to pull golds for others. 'With fame, people listens and follows you' applies to those absent-minded donkeys. Did you know almost 80% of money donated didn't reach te places where it should have. So much for 'Your penny will save a life'. One day, in god's willing, I'll do anything I can to help those who failed to receives the privilages I have. Though, I will not give them monies blindly. Again almost 92.3% of those in poor countries wait for foods to land on their open laps. I survived 50 RM every weeks with extras, so why can't others?
I know people are dying for lack of foods and cares, however hypocrisy does not saves lives.
World's Aids Day, Hungers Day, Pink Ribbon, Mother's Day, and other craps they can think of. Complying to these kind of programmes is a new way of life, for some. The only reason I buy cards during one of the 'Days' is because my loves would be expecting one from me. A sense of pride when joining the charade is not an accomplishment for me. I buy stuffs for my loves quite often, set aside the luxury. When a person bust their neck for money to get gifts, it's a sign your loves worth a shit.
Frankly, I couldn't give a shit during one of these days (Hungers, bla bla bla) since they are ruled by 'important people' anyway. Leonardo whateverhisnameis for the 11th hour, really? I bet those polar bears are kicking your ice-face for the green space you took in landing your cheap butt every night. Yeah 10 rooms for a person will save the nature. The probability of others to gag is much higher than you think when having to bear that horrid idea of saving the earth.
Ms. Jolie letsstealothershusband, ambassador of UN? Well, UN is not a real organization but still. How would you feel if a slag comes to you, sobbing to death to save you from dying ends up in high-end stores to get a cloth to wipe her magnetic skin. I do lavish myself sometime but I don't tell everyone to save a penny so there'll be another life on the other side of the world.
Why can't we do it ourselves. Send people who could care less of fame and fortune in helping those in needs. Those who are able to get in the mud to pull golds for others. 'With fame, people listens and follows you' applies to those absent-minded donkeys. Did you know almost 80% of money donated didn't reach te places where it should have. So much for 'Your penny will save a life'. One day, in god's willing, I'll do anything I can to help those who failed to receives the privilages I have. Though, I will not give them monies blindly. Again almost 92.3% of those in poor countries wait for foods to land on their open laps. I survived 50 RM every weeks with extras, so why can't others?
I know people are dying for lack of foods and cares, however hypocrisy does not saves lives.
Slow Motion, See Me Let Go
It is a wonder how well I work and enjoy my own company after hours. A day was well spent re-organizing my library/antiqueshop/museum. It's remarkably clean now, though in the eyes of those rarely in the room, it is the same, funky smelled, messy, child-like room. My room could probably be (at this very moment) the most incredible thing I have achieved.
A lava lamp is now my new trophy. It was someone else's lamp and apparently he grew out of it. He knew I enjoy such antiquated objects, thus it being the light of my life. (?) Funny how most of my collections used to another's posessions. The chain between me and the freaky people amazes me. Am I bound to hold the lives of others, to dwell in their past, creates memories they had failed?
Well off without strings attach. On my own two wobbly feet. Imagining the day I stop imagine.
A lava lamp is now my new trophy. It was someone else's lamp and apparently he grew out of it. He knew I enjoy such antiquated objects, thus it being the light of my life. (?) Funny how most of my collections used to another's posessions. The chain between me and the freaky people amazes me. Am I bound to hold the lives of others, to dwell in their past, creates memories they had failed?
Well off without strings attach. On my own two wobbly feet. Imagining the day I stop imagine.
In The Name of...
Purpose of life is something I have yet to discover. Guess now I'll be writing down 'Having a private library' as one of my life purpose.Ironically, I have always hated the library (except those with wheels :) )
It is almost terrifying how I almost cry reading this book. Obviously, it is a well-written book, Russian author. They are one of my favourites. Anna Petrovna, Alexander Pushkin (However his name is correctly spelled) and of course Nabokov. The sad thing is, my mum would not let me buy books of military history or anything akin to it. What I am reading now is the product of my sneaky tactics and horrible squeaky smile. Next, Prague: In The Shadow of Swastika. Hopefully I can get hold of it and the Tsars.
Russians have pretty intriguing history, and of course the inhabitants. Never been there but would love to. Do the russians call St. Petersburg, Leningrad still. I'd be delighted to have a city named after me, in a weird twisted way. I guess Russians powered man loved the idea of people spitting their names out, regardless whether if it's for good or not. One thing that I can look up to those not so kind people is, they realized they will never be half as good as anything we'd dream of so why the fuck bother on pleasing shit faces. Never in my mind believe because of that we should all be evil beings.
Purpose of life, is evidently a myth. There'll never be A purpose of life since we are all greedy people. The certainty of that is unworthy of the world's attention but I may not be the only one to regard it as a fact. A pessimist I may be but better than thinking we are all walking on flowered layered glass and inhaling air of sweet scent of lives. Hmm...
" Our singing was not hypocritical for we were singing out our happiness at being alive. Happiness at being born contrary to all the possibilities calculated by men of common sense and in contempt of all the wars invented by makers of the History. Happiness at being born, living and knowing that there is nothing better in this world than the measued words of a woman with red hands seated in a room perfumed with the snowy chill of linen covered in hoar-frost. In the name of what... "
- Words from Confessions of a Lapsed Standard-Bearer
It is almost terrifying how I almost cry reading this book. Obviously, it is a well-written book, Russian author. They are one of my favourites. Anna Petrovna, Alexander Pushkin (However his name is correctly spelled) and of course Nabokov. The sad thing is, my mum would not let me buy books of military history or anything akin to it. What I am reading now is the product of my sneaky tactics and horrible squeaky smile. Next, Prague: In The Shadow of Swastika. Hopefully I can get hold of it and the Tsars.
Russians have pretty intriguing history, and of course the inhabitants. Never been there but would love to. Do the russians call St. Petersburg, Leningrad still. I'd be delighted to have a city named after me, in a weird twisted way. I guess Russians powered man loved the idea of people spitting their names out, regardless whether if it's for good or not. One thing that I can look up to those not so kind people is, they realized they will never be half as good as anything we'd dream of so why the fuck bother on pleasing shit faces. Never in my mind believe because of that we should all be evil beings.
Purpose of life, is evidently a myth. There'll never be A purpose of life since we are all greedy people. The certainty of that is unworthy of the world's attention but I may not be the only one to regard it as a fact. A pessimist I may be but better than thinking we are all walking on flowered layered glass and inhaling air of sweet scent of lives. Hmm...
" Our singing was not hypocritical for we were singing out our happiness at being alive. Happiness at being born contrary to all the possibilities calculated by men of common sense and in contempt of all the wars invented by makers of the History. Happiness at being born, living and knowing that there is nothing better in this world than the measued words of a woman with red hands seated in a room perfumed with the snowy chill of linen covered in hoar-frost. In the name of what... "
- Words from Confessions of a Lapsed Standard-Bearer
Fish sticks
Missing the time when we were within each other has brought up distinct emotions. Speeds of laughters you drew were one of your beauty. Though, you never believed me and often called me names akin to a lady in the loony bin, I love being with you.
When the sun was blazing, poking happily into my eyes, you stopped and wondered how was I feeling. Words nor grievances formed as you observed me. The thing, littlest thing that you do, stirred up my feelings. Long hard notes you wrote while I was floating in the water. Absurdity and nonsensical phrases. Put a smile on my face.
The times where we wasted our times drawing funny faces, flipping coins, will never be replaced. Your love for childish things made me realize you were with me ever since I had existed.
The terror you faced when we crash the problem gate.
The fear of being teased.
The caricature of your silly works.
Made me happy.
When the sun was blazing, poking happily into my eyes, you stopped and wondered how was I feeling. Words nor grievances formed as you observed me. The thing, littlest thing that you do, stirred up my feelings. Long hard notes you wrote while I was floating in the water. Absurdity and nonsensical phrases. Put a smile on my face.
The times where we wasted our times drawing funny faces, flipping coins, will never be replaced. Your love for childish things made me realize you were with me ever since I had existed.
The terror you faced when we crash the problem gate.
The fear of being teased.
The caricature of your silly works.
Made me happy.
To You, Friend.
One to a hundred.
How much is too much?
Friends.
It is a disease in each and every one of us.
Like Polio.
Except it sounded better.
Enemies.
Now that's something.
Like Fever.
Though, it has better ending.
Whoever reckons having lots of friends is a good thing,
Surely a tosser.
How much is too much?
Friends.
It is a disease in each and every one of us.
Like Polio.
Except it sounded better.
Enemies.
Now that's something.
Like Fever.
Though, it has better ending.
Whoever reckons having lots of friends is a good thing,
Surely a tosser.
For the world to see, How I breathe.
It's been fascinating.
To watch how people around you direct their fears.
I had joined their parade.
Starved myself with hopes.
I was painfully pleading for my guilt to leave me.
When they were struggling to call my name.
As faults were waiting for the final greet.
Stumbling, tearing and moaning.
Have I done enough to be with them?
To watch how people around you direct their fears.
I had joined their parade.
Starved myself with hopes.
I was painfully pleading for my guilt to leave me.
When they were struggling to call my name.
As faults were waiting for the final greet.
Stumbling, tearing and moaning.
Have I done enough to be with them?
I am no feminist.
But sometimes people made me speak like one.
A friend of mine used feminist as a synonym for slags or what most people call, a bitch.
Considering how ridiculous this whole feminism shit has become, I was happy to hear that.
Enough about Emmeline Pankhurst, it is quite obvious there is no one who has an acceptable ideology that could bring changes to the life of the saucers (Cups and saucers, thats what I used when saying male and female). Nevertheless, I have no interest in yapping about feminism as it is full of bull.
What I wish to write about is on sports. Why in the world is sport being divided between gender. Have you ever seen a football match with a mix of gender in a team? Why can't there be one?
This is where those above and sports meet each other. Those so-called feminists forgot about equality in active culture when they were in tears promoting their jokes. All they cared about was money and shits. That's why cups take them lightly. Take all the jokes in the world and you will find not even one that goes like 'That lady kicks like a viking!'. Though I have no knowledge on the amount of pressure vikings put on their foot in mesmerizing others in kicking objects. The point is, all the screaming about equality had silenced a part on being as strong as cups. It is apparent that saucers couldn't give a fuck in potraying themselves as a strong entity. Talk about equality.
I remember growing up, where I was the only one with no object under there which would results me being in pain whenever we had too much fun. I played sports with them, I kicked and shoved as hard as them. But then, reality kicked in and I was forced to enter into the world where wearing comfortable clothes is a sin. Yes, they made you feel like an alien especially when you are covered in scars. A shock ran through me and I knew I was doomed for life. No more praises for falling the 17th time.
The world I had entered has made me become a sissy. I would cry if I get a small cut, and think about the physical effects for the whole day. I worry about when dirts come crawling to me with a huge grin on their muddy faces. All these things... I blame you feminists. Oh now we have the power to be as good as men, lets put skeleton on covers of pointless magazines and kill all the fatties. Yes you idiots, that exactly what you did. Because of you, I worry about my weight. Because of you I use masks to make me look like what you had wanted me to look like. And you people call Hitler a bad man.
OK
Lets pause and laugh for a moment as I had digress from sport to Hitler. When his name comes up, that is the mark I am digressing.
Coming back to sports and people. I wish there would be no female cups or whatever fucks. I wish there would be, even a short amount of saucers, playing with the cups. In football, tennis, cricket and all the sports in the world. Where the name Sophie would come next after Steven. Where a lady gets a red card for diving.
Nonetheless, I want that so badly since I was once told I can't be in their team because I look like a girl. I don't blame the cups. Seeing all the saucers in the world, I understand and accept the tragedy upon my life. I want to change that, so next time, I can run with the balls..., no the ball and score like the cups.
AND
That my feminists friends, is what I call an equality.
A friend of mine used feminist as a synonym for slags or what most people call, a bitch.
Considering how ridiculous this whole feminism shit has become, I was happy to hear that.
Enough about Emmeline Pankhurst, it is quite obvious there is no one who has an acceptable ideology that could bring changes to the life of the saucers (Cups and saucers, thats what I used when saying male and female). Nevertheless, I have no interest in yapping about feminism as it is full of bull.
What I wish to write about is on sports. Why in the world is sport being divided between gender. Have you ever seen a football match with a mix of gender in a team? Why can't there be one?
This is where those above and sports meet each other. Those so-called feminists forgot about equality in active culture when they were in tears promoting their jokes. All they cared about was money and shits. That's why cups take them lightly. Take all the jokes in the world and you will find not even one that goes like 'That lady kicks like a viking!'. Though I have no knowledge on the amount of pressure vikings put on their foot in mesmerizing others in kicking objects. The point is, all the screaming about equality had silenced a part on being as strong as cups. It is apparent that saucers couldn't give a fuck in potraying themselves as a strong entity. Talk about equality.
I remember growing up, where I was the only one with no object under there which would results me being in pain whenever we had too much fun. I played sports with them, I kicked and shoved as hard as them. But then, reality kicked in and I was forced to enter into the world where wearing comfortable clothes is a sin. Yes, they made you feel like an alien especially when you are covered in scars. A shock ran through me and I knew I was doomed for life. No more praises for falling the 17th time.
The world I had entered has made me become a sissy. I would cry if I get a small cut, and think about the physical effects for the whole day. I worry about when dirts come crawling to me with a huge grin on their muddy faces. All these things... I blame you feminists. Oh now we have the power to be as good as men, lets put skeleton on covers of pointless magazines and kill all the fatties. Yes you idiots, that exactly what you did. Because of you, I worry about my weight. Because of you I use masks to make me look like what you had wanted me to look like. And you people call Hitler a bad man.
OK
Lets pause and laugh for a moment as I had digress from sport to Hitler. When his name comes up, that is the mark I am digressing.
Coming back to sports and people. I wish there would be no female cups or whatever fucks. I wish there would be, even a short amount of saucers, playing with the cups. In football, tennis, cricket and all the sports in the world. Where the name Sophie would come next after Steven. Where a lady gets a red card for diving.
Nonetheless, I want that so badly since I was once told I can't be in their team because I look like a girl. I don't blame the cups. Seeing all the saucers in the world, I understand and accept the tragedy upon my life. I want to change that, so next time, I can run with the balls..., no the ball and score like the cups.
AND
That my feminists friends, is what I call an equality.
Insanity On The Run.
To say hello and goodbye,
To stare into eyes.
To shake away the memories,
To tap the beat.
Frequent tune in to small talks,
Visionary shot of long lost thoughts.
Strap in the new shoes,
Gaze for another view.
To stare into eyes.
To shake away the memories,
To tap the beat.
Frequent tune in to small talks,
Visionary shot of long lost thoughts.
Strap in the new shoes,
Gaze for another view.
I Survived
The camping trip.
Hah to those who think I can't make it.
Well, to be honest, I was pleasantly shocked to have found myself all giddy during and after the trip. It was rather epic despite the fact that I was all alone in the platoon (no such thing as group, we go by platoon or unit bla bla bla). No leeches but tons of biting bugs. I didn't bother to eat that much as I was flowing in red, no good eating too much because of that.
Almost half of my body is aching, good thing my parents let me skip classes.
Need food and rest. Classes and books will trail my seconds and burn me.
Two more weeks till my final.
Cant.fail.or.I'll.die.
Hah to those who think I can't make it.
Well, to be honest, I was pleasantly shocked to have found myself all giddy during and after the trip. It was rather epic despite the fact that I was all alone in the platoon (no such thing as group, we go by platoon or unit bla bla bla). No leeches but tons of biting bugs. I didn't bother to eat that much as I was flowing in red, no good eating too much because of that.
Almost half of my body is aching, good thing my parents let me skip classes.
Need food and rest. Classes and books will trail my seconds and burn me.
Two more weeks till my final.
Cant.fail.or.I'll.die.
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