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Age: 1000000
CCA: New York Stock Exchange!
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Class Blog
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
A deep stirring in the depths of one's being.
A quiet conviction.
An unspeakable grief.
Surging empowerment.
Unwavering trust.
Unbreakable peace.
A firm belief.
A soaring spirit.
Still introspection.
A calm mystery.
Joyful anticipation.
A ship, sailing to a place known only to itself.
A faith restored.
A quiet conviction.
An unspeakable grief.
Surging empowerment.
Unwavering trust.
Unbreakable peace.
A firm belief.
A soaring spirit.
Still introspection.
A calm mystery.
Joyful anticipation.
A ship, sailing to a place known only to itself.
A faith restored.
mars at 9:56 PM
Saturday, July 19, 2008
I shall come here to bemoan my block test grades.
I've miserably fallen in the standings for all my subjects except GP and Econs. Surprise surprise. Three of my six subjects are now below average (less than 50%) by quite a big margin, and I can only be considered at the average for Econs. My rank in history has fallen (*cries*) and I only got an 83% for GP. This is Bad.
I need prozac.
Actually I don't need prozac. I need some sort of really strong and effective stimulant to motivate me to start studying really hard.
It's a sad life.
Lots of adults told me that the best period of their lives as students were their JC years. So far more than a quarter of JC life has gone by, and I fail to see how the JC years are the best years. If anything, I'd say Sec3 - 4 was the best period - the exco term. I learnt the most from that year, matured a great deal in terms of intellectual thought and formed the best relationships. NYSE Exco0607 was like a family, complete with the dysfunctional aspects.
JC...probably has the potential, but it still feels very foreign. Maybe I take a while longer to get used to a new environment (honestly, how new can JC be called seven months into the year??). My brain has been happily stewing away, losing its juices, probably. Brain juice soup, anyone?
Going to bed (:
I've miserably fallen in the standings for all my subjects except GP and Econs. Surprise surprise. Three of my six subjects are now below average (less than 50%) by quite a big margin, and I can only be considered at the average for Econs. My rank in history has fallen (*cries*) and I only got an 83% for GP. This is Bad.
I need prozac.
Actually I don't need prozac. I need some sort of really strong and effective stimulant to motivate me to start studying really hard.
It's a sad life.
Lots of adults told me that the best period of their lives as students were their JC years. So far more than a quarter of JC life has gone by, and I fail to see how the JC years are the best years. If anything, I'd say Sec3 - 4 was the best period - the exco term. I learnt the most from that year, matured a great deal in terms of intellectual thought and formed the best relationships. NYSE Exco0607 was like a family, complete with the dysfunctional aspects.
JC...probably has the potential, but it still feels very foreign. Maybe I take a while longer to get used to a new environment (honestly, how new can JC be called seven months into the year??). My brain has been happily stewing away, losing its juices, probably. Brain juice soup, anyone?
Going to bed (:
mars at 12:02 AM
Monday, June 16, 2008
hello. i'm updating.
Actually, I've got myself a livejournal. Same URL as this one. So...I've been updating there, heh. Problem is, I've friendslocked my livejournal, for most part. Anyway. By Walt Whitman:
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Actually, I've got myself a livejournal. Same URL as this one. So...I've been updating there, heh. Problem is, I've friendslocked my livejournal, for most part. Anyway. By Walt Whitman:
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
mars at 12:29 AM
Friday, May 09, 2008
I am here to blog.
Wait a minute, why am I blogging?
Someone will do well to answer this question.
Killed a small cockroach yesterday, probably a nymph (or is that not what you call them?). Very much like the one that crawled up my hand during Pillowman. It's the first cockroach I killed in my entire life, congratulate me. I pity the small thing though. It was really quite young and naive, standing right in the middle of the living room and refusing to move. Maybe it was contemplating Plato...
I was going to be kind to it. But thoughts of how that small fry will one day grow into a big ugly disgusting thing convinced me that I had to get rid of it early. It was pretty tempting to throw the newspaper on it and stamp. But the thought of yellow goop on the floor and the newspaper (which I hadn't read yet) was pretty disturbing. Mum made an excellent suggestion at this point: Why don't you get the pesticide? Amazing suggestion, really.
I feel quite bad about it now. I pretty much watched him die. It's quite astounding how I can feel bad about killing a cockroach and certain people don't turn a hair when they murder human beings. One could almost see that nymph gasping for air.
One less cockroach in the house. I feel better already.
Tell me again why I'm blogging.
Wait a minute, why am I blogging?
Someone will do well to answer this question.
Killed a small cockroach yesterday, probably a nymph (or is that not what you call them?). Very much like the one that crawled up my hand during Pillowman. It's the first cockroach I killed in my entire life, congratulate me. I pity the small thing though. It was really quite young and naive, standing right in the middle of the living room and refusing to move. Maybe it was contemplating Plato...
I was going to be kind to it. But thoughts of how that small fry will one day grow into a big ugly disgusting thing convinced me that I had to get rid of it early. It was pretty tempting to throw the newspaper on it and stamp. But the thought of yellow goop on the floor and the newspaper (which I hadn't read yet) was pretty disturbing. Mum made an excellent suggestion at this point: Why don't you get the pesticide? Amazing suggestion, really.
I feel quite bad about it now. I pretty much watched him die. It's quite astounding how I can feel bad about killing a cockroach and certain people don't turn a hair when they murder human beings. One could almost see that nymph gasping for air.
One less cockroach in the house. I feel better already.
Tell me again why I'm blogging.
mars at 1:04 AM
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
I've fallen in love with my baby. He's such a cute Frenchie. Cute, small and has a really robust voice. I love my baby. :)
mars at 10:03 PM
Monday, March 17, 2008
[This is a disclaimer]
I shall come here to let off steam. Be surprised I'm finally blogging to let feelings out.
I shall be the perfect example of the stereotype of people my age. I'm so frustrated. I'm so angry. No one understands me. Life sucks. No one cares for me. I've got no friends. I'm completely alone. Here to face this dark world. Why am I living? I should just end it all.
{amused silence}
Being the typical teenager is entertaining. Only I guess I'm not so typical after all, there seem to be the absence of certain four-lettered words (A four-letter word, to be specific). What so fun about using it anyway, something I cannot comprehend. Unless of course, you want to appear a barbarian and an uncivilized caveman. But this isn't a discussion on swear words. This isn't a discussion of anything in particular, because I need an outlet.
Forgive me if I ramble, you're not obliged to read this, y'know? Many things in this world cannot be explained or understood, and they treat you best when you simply brush past them should they come your way. Seek not to understand them, or you'll be sucked into a maelstrom of darkness, chaos and destruction. I digress.
I don't pretend to understand why people blog about their daily lives. I suppose blogs are journals. But why make journals public. I run before I get decorated with colourful arrows and peppered with bullets.
Sometimes, just sometimes, when things can't seem to go right. I pick myself up from the center and hurl myself to the circumference.
I don't care very much for certain things. I don't care if you like my attitude or not right now. I don't care if you read this. I don't care. I just don't.
Don't rob me of the things I care about. When you do, you rob me of life itself. I mean life outside academic life. Of course, academic life amounts to nothing at all, really, so...you get what I mean. Academic life is the train that gets you to the station that allows you to survive in the modern world. Whether or not you want more or less than just basic survival depends on the station you get off at. The basics are enough for me.
The second golden rule (with me, that is) is simply this: I know my life is not mine. I try, I really do. You just need to give me time. You just need to let me draw the graph that plots effort against time. Don't ask me about gradient, my standard of mathematics just can't handle that bit. You can demand, I'll try to supply, but when I can't or don't...don't shoot holes in me. I'll just sink faster that way, not gonna work out, if you know what I mean.
There's no rest for me (pun fully intended). Watch me as I rise with the burden on my shoulders. I tell you, I might not have the physical strength, but I have the determination. I'll do my best to advance steadily, not to slack off. I'll get there, if I don't you know I'd have done my utmost.
I shall come here to let off steam. Be surprised I'm finally blogging to let feelings out.
I shall be the perfect example of the stereotype of people my age. I'm so frustrated. I'm so angry. No one understands me. Life sucks. No one cares for me. I've got no friends. I'm completely alone. Here to face this dark world. Why am I living? I should just end it all.
{amused silence}
Being the typical teenager is entertaining. Only I guess I'm not so typical after all, there seem to be the absence of certain four-lettered words (A four-letter word, to be specific). What so fun about using it anyway, something I cannot comprehend. Unless of course, you want to appear a barbarian and an uncivilized caveman. But this isn't a discussion on swear words. This isn't a discussion of anything in particular, because I need an outlet.
Forgive me if I ramble, you're not obliged to read this, y'know? Many things in this world cannot be explained or understood, and they treat you best when you simply brush past them should they come your way. Seek not to understand them, or you'll be sucked into a maelstrom of darkness, chaos and destruction. I digress.
I don't pretend to understand why people blog about their daily lives. I suppose blogs are journals. But why make journals public. I run before I get decorated with colourful arrows and peppered with bullets.
Sometimes, just sometimes, when things can't seem to go right. I pick myself up from the center and hurl myself to the circumference.
I don't care very much for certain things. I don't care if you like my attitude or not right now. I don't care if you read this. I don't care. I just don't.
Don't rob me of the things I care about. When you do, you rob me of life itself. I mean life outside academic life. Of course, academic life amounts to nothing at all, really, so...you get what I mean. Academic life is the train that gets you to the station that allows you to survive in the modern world. Whether or not you want more or less than just basic survival depends on the station you get off at. The basics are enough for me.
The second golden rule (with me, that is) is simply this: I know my life is not mine. I try, I really do. You just need to give me time. You just need to let me draw the graph that plots effort against time. Don't ask me about gradient, my standard of mathematics just can't handle that bit. You can demand, I'll try to supply, but when I can't or don't...don't shoot holes in me. I'll just sink faster that way, not gonna work out, if you know what I mean.
There's no rest for me (pun fully intended). Watch me as I rise with the burden on my shoulders. I tell you, I might not have the physical strength, but I have the determination. I'll do my best to advance steadily, not to slack off. I'll get there, if I don't you know I'd have done my utmost.
mars at 11:15 PM
Saturday, March 15, 2008
"How's life been for you?"
"Good. Believe it or not, life's been great."
"Good. Believe it or not, life's been great."
mars at 1:31 AM