this is perhaps the last thing i will write

this is my final blog post before i leave and totally disconnect myself from the digital world, ya hell it is gonna kill us ... but hey it is worth the A levels.... So before i finally go i must do what i usually do . leave with a poem. 

The leaves are turning 

and the colours fade along their spine 

the green then the brown 

i fall into the river and 

Float along my 

bow and see myself 

reflecting reflecting a hundred colours

I am not a product of my own doing 

Only a leaf, the branch that holds me up 

the trunk that keeps the branch up

and the roots that keep us all, 

from falling. keep me from 

falling. Love will keep me from falling. 

no title

Another poem that i have decided to scribble down, in a really down state, a pit of my madness. I think i have been bi-polar for a really long time ... I know ... i know ... dont say anything ... I just want you here with me. 

Incest, the virtuous relationship, between the 

animal, bestial and horrid, be it 

male or female, all is coarse.

And so she stands over me, my sister 

the one that i watched so often grow up. And now she

stands 

like a bear and rips 

off the styrofoam packaging.

The white snow, covers the room 

patches of the hell i am living. 

Livid her body, thrown onto mine 

as if She were the victim and I, I 

the murder. 

Obscene as she drags my hands to her collar 

Bones, i am lost. 

My body looses control to her and there is little 

I can do 

unable to resist the

beauty before me.

A lolita, 

as a sulfurous pit, that I am engulfed in, 

the scent so pungent and yet romantic as death. 

The sickly flowers of my heart blooms 

ecstasy as I am brought to an astral plane. 

Thebans of fools and Athens of the wise

I belong no where, Only in tartarus 

or even swim in the lake of Lethe, floating in the murky 

waters of sin.

I have the tasted the fusion of the flesh 

I have already seen it, countless this is where

I peek into the window of the night. 

And she looks up

My face framed by the grilles

And she dips lower coming closer and 

closer, I am still there and I have no recollection 

of all memory.

But the accusers 

mock and the chair throws me off 

the lights flicker as

I enter and the bed a pit 

of needles, 

The pen i write these Blasphemous words.

My suicide note. My pen 

My pen.

A point at the end and ink flowing 

and writing on her body.

Om her body, forging and exploding

Expanding her mouth of opening 

the liqueur flows and they dictate the words

GUILTY GUILTY

but nay I am the innocent

:the victim! 

It is YOU reader, You ... 

you you, my sister, fucking the 

Writer. 

______________________________________________________

 

Sweet ...

to fall in love...is a funny funny feeling, it is where you just want to say a thousand I love yous and just be able to without being tired or worn out at all, where you cannot breathe and your heart is beating to the same beat of your lover. Where you just want to be there to see her but not speak, and just see her, just her and you, together. Silence, the tie that binds the two together. Love, I love, I really love her. I cannot express it out, but like i said to her, My love for you will drown out all the noise of the world, drown any obsession and take away all the suffering that i have to go through, because you are the sweet one of my life. the really truly sweet love that i had. that i just have to have you there beside me all the time. 

sigh...........

two faces of the poet :D

Well i have been doing econs and i really do need a break from all that numbers and figures along with graphs that torment the living daylights out of me. Right on ... there are things that trouble my heart at the moment, loosing sleep and loosing my sanity, I have been living a dual life, one portraying the real self, the other, a denial of it all ... This perpetual struggle in my mind has me betwixt! And it is haunting me, day night, when i see the person, when i don't, it is all very tormenting. My body has lost its will to carry on with whatever i am supposed to do, and has left me with only one escape: Poetry. Poetry has been my escape and probably will remain my escape for many years to come. the verses tell my story, how i have lived and what i feel even though it may not make much sense to you but this is my puzzle this is my dungeon and my maze for the reader to guess what i feel and the cause of it all is within the Poem. According to Sigmund Freud, He said that what we do is from our subconscious. So guess where does all the poems come from, ya you guessed it :my subconscious! so what i think of and who i am right now at this point of time is portrayed in this poem. it is called: two faced.

advise read the poem out loud and listen to the punctuation's. 

Two Faced ...by Karmen Simone. 

Sex bores me the in and out pistoning motion and then 

the emotional release.

The pleasure of course could be described 

in words.

Absolutely divine those who have tasted 

of the fruit. 

where the two are joined at the 

root to muster out of them another life.

Totally uninteresting ! 

lasting only three minutes or if I am lucky five

this boy is unable to keep himself.

With no skill, no tenderness to a woman's pent up passion.

So i sit there daily as they strip and 

I am annoyed as they savagely attack me 

with their mouth and their tentacles.

And then finally that meeting of the two hairy thighs.

The phallus : power and authority.

All symbolic references sheathed up in me.

kept in ME !

The sword without its sheath is dangerous

vulgar and common.

Yet he uses his instrument for barely seconds 

before the honey begins to flow and the 

room is filled with that musky scent. The 

blending of the two liquids, mine and the beasts.

Absolute Bore ! As i now lie there 

unamused, unsatisfied and unquenched, by the fire 

of sexual union.

Rather what i desire, no what i lust for is a blend of the 

two

I am both, male and female I created them, a hermaphrodite. 

having both sheath and sword. 

like a knight of old heading for a crusade.

Possessing both and subduing both.

I will take with glory the man 

and the woman.

Bearing the forbidden fruit.

Of course having the parts of both man and 

woman, desire pent up 

pent up to gain authority and rule with both. 

I will entice the two sexes and 

devour them. Eat and consume them into 

a feast a banquet of love.

Let them see my glory 

and embellish it before them, look and not touch 

they cannot touch my glorious body, given of the gods.

A monstrosity and yet self pleasuring and self

stimulating, up down in out, the motion of satisfying both 

no manual for that. 

Into a red esctacy and being absorbed into 

it all as they look upon me. As wave after 

wave 

hits me into unconsciousness.

Missing sense loss of logic and galavanted into 

ritual motion, faster and faster. 

No, no, one, is, not, enough. 

again and again.

The glory of my meeting, the thighs weaken and my

face, No their faces blush as they continue 

staring on, God, god, falling there 

i reach there, diving, more , more , no, 

faster, one more, god! ahhhhh                      (twitching)  

Reaching the place of ecstacy and delight 

pleasure zings through my body. 

As it lays there, no one around. 

And beside me, the child still sleeps,

the wet of my thigh seeping down to 

my feet, the root of me, a brazen fire

able to melt gold, melt flesh.

Alive yet the body refuses anymore          (child awakes)

I tower over him and press him down into the bed 

as i withdrawing my sheath and take him

a sword and kill, that part of him.

plundering his treasure, and now it is his turn to cry out. 

Breaking him no more will, he takes me and i am not his 

He is mine .

as he trembles beneath my raw hands 

and cries out to the gods for help, 

But to no avail. 

She is His God, His daemon.

His only need and satisfied by you Alone. 

Waltzing to My tune.  

Like i said this is extremely complicated and takes time for dissection...so take your time and dont rush it, Oh my advise ... read the poem out loud. 

falling back

the castle in the sand fades into the sea, in a matter of 5 seconds. So what joy is there to build this kingdom made of sand ? it is the glories of the kingdom the glory of making things with our own hands

Poetry ... my sanity

I have been quite bugged by the fact that people have been coming up to me and asking me for advice on writing poetry and how to write poems. 

Well there is one simple solution ! WRITE !  No really that is really the only way that you can do it ... no matter how disgustingly difficult it may seem, the only way is to write it all out. 

Poetry to me has a different meaning to you, perhaps you write for the fun of writing, or perhaps for the money part of poetry, or perhaps fame maybe I dont know. Personally I write for the sake of sanity, yes this has been over used but really i did write for the sake of sanity. There was a period of time where i had been obsessed over Lolita and had gone so far as to loose sleep over her. This was where i began writing a poem every night before i went to bed. Just so that i could get some rest and tackle the next torturous day ahead. Lolita was my muse and my inspiration, though perhaps she will never leave my subconscious, at least she does not hold sway my heart. oh those that are late to the game ... Lolita is a constant thing on my mind and who she is...well it is revealed in the earlier posts and you just have to invert the gibberish and it will make sense. Oh apart from that, poetry has been an addiction, something  that i desire every time i get stressed or become more ... "emo" or perhaps i feel really happy, though i have not written much happy poems recently. But still the love for poetry is there. A poet is not just a writer, he is a shaman, a wielder of magic, the magic of the language to transform the mind and to shape the thoughts of the reader. We use poetic techniques to carry this on into the reader as he reads out loud the poem. images that remain in my head, take up and stay in my subconscious. So the only advice that i can actually tell you is to write everyday, every single second is to look out for images that you see and will actually remb, it does not take effort. the manner which i write is perhaps what you might call modernist where i write from a subconscious and rather rely on the stream of consciousness to run my pen. So this is the advice that i can give...

and all i can say is ... 

The flowers of malady is my sweet rose and the chains that bind the wicked they are my scarves, the cell of the prisoner, that is my abode and the voices , that is my muse. 

On my high tower.

 always hated describing my feelings... and only desired that my feeling be interpreted by  another person as they desired and therefore poetry seemed to be the best way to portray my own feelings. so here goes. A poem that i have written today. 

my heart is far from the door 
like a prostitute at Mont marte 
my heart throbs 
but not from the satisfaction of lust.

The heart beats out of rhythm 
from the on that proposes his love
love, lust 
the same?

my mirror image. 

This fear that beats within my heart 
fear to loose fear to live, fear to be 
fear to accept what is lost. 

And she stands there, my mirror self
naked and bare., in the silence 
dirt all over, thrown to the ground. 

The neighbour, NO! that "BITCH!"
empties her chamber pot 
the fools throw down their, pity crumbs 
left overs that should be given to pigs! 

I was a beauty and now 
in a new, anew 
place i am a courtesan 
playing to the fantasy of man.  (trust me, not just men alone, women as well) 

Their fantasy and i am thrown out again 
I am no fanny hill 
Don Juan visited my bed and 
he consumed me, leaving me an empty shell.

I no longer feel, as they do away
no not ! I she does not 
feel I still remember the kindness 
they drop on me.

The little girl of mont marte 
they called sweet things "my love" 
"my sweet" Now "WHORE ! " is my name 
fucking away, beating heartily.

They label us, they make us 
play their fantasy and i can no longer 
be her , no I believe it is wrong.

In the gutter ! we sleep, we pick up the 
crumbs and be as close to the dogs 
the rats my minions 
the sewers my hiding place, my saftey 
and catacomb.

I am her 
the sun sets on my abode 
my alley way where i am given 
no more a woman of meat,  a bone a flesh.

Spirit attached to the Earth
and i climb higher 
a new place, a greater height 
on the roof,  the church steeple as my footstool.

And I am, she becomes and we 
live 
to see, to be that little girl of 
Mont marte 

the belle of my city, the sky her roof 

Earth her floor
I am, and I am 
the becoming. 

Untitled

Untitled 2 By Karmen Simone 

The typewriter 

types inconsistent 

like the beat of my heart

suffering in Silence.

Silence suffocates me

These nameless formless words confront me 

and tie me up

concrete blocks tied to my feet 

Sinking deeper into an Ocean of 

Hell

Little wonder how i manage to sleep 

every night.

Silence kills me daily

as i go, say my prayers and close my eyes. 

So every night i fear the hours

the minutes with the voiceless walls. 

Only mine in the yellow room.

Echoing and bouncing off the walls built on the firm of the Earth

Like a dust i am 

This whirlwind taking me up 

height and higher

till i reach There.

Nothing is There 

No heaven, No hell, No thousand of angels meeting me at the gate.

Only there is my blissful darkness.

The coffin i rest my head.

This coptic writer, still there 

at his end, maniac and depressed. Like a

Grovelling dead

I just want to hear the voices

I just want to hear your voice. 

Ghostly reconstructions only resurface and you are hidden 

They don't amuse me.

Doing what you do best

The expert worker as i lay there bare and naked as you 

do what you do best : Killing me 

whispering, " my love"  

Renaissance ... a Revolution !!!! BOHEMIA !!!

This leads me on to the idea of a Bohemian Singapore. Not a reckless and haphazard type of Bohemian. But one that is willing to step out of the "norm" hmmm out of the Mainstream. Otherwise how will we define ourselves as Singaporean. I am not proposing a revolt or any violent revolution. But i ask for a renaissance, a new renaissance. Not one of cohesiveness but of individuality, each willing to express his art as he feels. Not to be constrained by money or circumstances but rather a people that will do art for art. For example the Village voice is an example of Art, a newspaper dedicated completely to arts. A printed paper of gigs, amateur and professional, ranging from the controversial to the orthodox. This can be done ! 

With the arts festival coming up, go to the theater go to the museums go and see and observe the art, see what is the move of art, shape it our way ! It is all about creativity, no limits, anything can be art, the more queer the better... Jackson Pollock... decided to break away from painting on a brush, rather drip paint from a stick. 

Ok fine we are "uniquely Singapore" whatever this phrase means... what is so unique about us... seriously. Think ponder please... what is so unique about Singapore. And no it is not because we are multi racial or multi culture, RUBBISH! it is as though other countries don't have other races. Oh and please don't even bother to mention Singlish, it has become so commonplace, and though it is our lingua franca it is... overhyped. So after all the stripping down, uniquely Singapore ? really ? unique ? or just so mainstream that we just become another city. 

Bohemianism is all about being inspired by the surroundings what you see what you hear all your senses, ALL of your senses and be UNAFRAID of performing your art. No permits, No limits. It is not buying a product that is bohemianism "oh i think this art will make me Bohemian" NO NO!!! i plead with you NO! it is doing art for art sake ! no matter how it is done, dance, drama, visual arts, anything anywhere, street, stage, alley. as Shakespeare put it ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE! let Singapore be our muse and us the painters and the Bohemians that can shape this little red dot to be revolutionary, out of the norm, please even our beginnings are rather queer, so i guess it is already in our blood. so people please dont complain that the people are not ready please please it is not the people. a change only begins with like-minded people so contribute! and shape it ... otherwise other people will shape it for you. Dont loose your opportunity!!! 

Everyday is a good place to start, just let creativity start to flow, everyday, one poem, one sentence of a novel, one painting, or even spend a whole night doing a sculpture. no matter where you work or your occupation EVERYONE can be a bohemian. it is not what you wear that make you bohemian, it is the attitude of embracing new and finding your muse in everything. Not for the sake of consumerism but for the sake of Art. So i plead with you to rise and begin. Shape our arts scene and don't hold back, there is a lot of unexplored territory to cover. as Nike said... just do it !

To a rose...

All what she went through, I probably would never and cannot fathom in this 18 year old of mine. What is life, what is death, she probably had her taste of both. The sweet and the bitter, though only present in my life only for less than a year, i still remember, the very first lesson she thought us. She got us all to sit down on the floor of this "renaissance room" slightly dark and fully wood, smelt a tad bit weird, and we sat on the floor, close up to her. Yes She sitting down in the large red chair, and took out the board and wrote her name across, Rosalind Gurupatham and her Identity these are the words i remember her saying.  also her constant repetition of Lear being crystalized again and again and again probably engraved in my mind. As she sat there in the wheelchair, in LT 1 or 2 teaching us, not just lessons but seeing her life itself was a lesson, a lesson to live to my fullest, no matter what may come, to be able to stand strong on my two feet, she was probably the strongest in that wheelchair though her two feet unable to move, she managed to impact each and everyone of us, in her special way. Just seeing her around was a charm, a divine moment, every moment spent with her was probably God given, an extra breath. The way she taught us King Lear, really opened the way i saw Lear, maybe because of her handicap, perhaps it was just how she had managed to develop so many many thoughts about Lear. Living such a fruitful life, it opened her mind to so many inspiring thoughts. It was just the way that she lived everyday, everyday that we saw her, it was just beautiful to see her, this woman, though handicapped, sickly was still able to come to school and be with us, and most of all be with the teachers who had been so close to her. She had been there from the beginning and now that it has come to an end, she has gone to a better place. But she will always be, our Miss G, our teacher with such perseverance made her life, so much, just so much.    


The writing on the board 
my first memory, the picture still fresh in my mind 
but like the ripened fruit plucked 
it is sweet 
pleasant to the eater.

mirrors 
a hundred figures 
but only one, sitting there, still 
silent, her.
 
Only now a reflection, can i ever be like her 
to forget? memory etched in the crystal,foggy images. 
 
the colored life of her 
she, a sculptor, a 
post-it of the journey of life.   
strongest at her weakest
 
she has gone, a whisper, a violin playing atop a roof 
the fiddler

the rose, the christian, the teacher, the snake 
sharp yet lovely 
that rose, that flower of a life. a mystery 
but one day, one day we will meet 
again, in paradise... but always playing in our hearts
resound resound. 

Poem.... a contemplation on Creation...

Breathing is a chore 

in, out, in, out.

Man made to breathe the holy work 

dependent on creation.

A man bred to rely on Science 

Bible, made of steel, them sining shadows 

bearing the words of life 

breathing out from the mouth of God.

If I stopped breathing, rely on the Our Father 

Faith they call it 

Shining lights at the end, with the clouds everlasting 

Foolish stupid dreams.

Eternity, a promise

A promised torture, to live in 

such an insane happiness

No God please please don't take me.

Take the others Earth is my home 

Leave me in my coffin, do not remove my body 

but if you do, take me feet first 

it is wrong.

I am still breathing 

marking my body with the markers, drawn on by men 

the tattooed body of mine 

their breath, made evident.

Man creation of God, or God himself

we are 

CREATOR! we breathe as Gods 

man in the image of god 

A potrait of God 

your breath creating me 

creating you, to be light 

Let there be Light !

And there was...  

There is a need for evac !

So i am Wilfred Owen hiding in the trenches of WW1... having trench foot and standing there endlessly staring across No Mans Land to the side of the Germans... waiting waiting for gas bombs to drop... and here comes one...HEAD... FOR THE SHELTERS !!!!!!! GAS MASKS !!! and there he is a man floundering in fire or lime. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. 

I have been found out. and i know who you are ... people looking at this blog. This artifice of myself. Thank you and i applaud the phenomenal achievement of finding me out. I give you a standing ovation!!! (clap clap). I pray you well... 

Thank you my dears for spreading my news... and it is with great joy that i thank you... 

There are reasons why i would rather my blog not be made private and it is with that grave assumption that no one would tread on my ground. However it is with that grave assumption that i have sealed my fate, nailed the final nail into the coffin. 

LOLITA IS MY WORD...MY WORD !!!! oh and my dear lit teacher i know that you know .... so erm SURPRISE !!!! 

so just to entertain my crowd... here is a poem. since i have not written in a long time bout my lolita ... i guess now that the word is out. I should be allowed the freedom to write about her as i please using as much imagery and connotations as i want to. It is just for my own amusement. so i THANK YOU !!! my dears all of you for letting this out .... (bows and spits at the floor) 

(picks up his coffee and drinks it down) 

I have walked down this aisle before 

this darkened corridor, 

the lights flicker and candles burned out 

down the alley of mont marte 

my heart is a city, of desire, the district lit up by the red 

weakened, and pale in the desolate mess. The drug i eat 

of desire only tears me 

bit by bit, into confetti. 

And there she is, the lady, the gypsy 

la bohemienne. Lolita 

asleep or awake? 

my heart is dead to her, there is no more. 

this be my final word, 

candles are brought before her, a goddess a nymph 

i confess. 

My love for her is dead, and though she be my lolita 

no more, only dead and eaten passion, melted away by the rust of time. 

  

And so... here is my 2 cents worth ...chaching !

and here is my rant... but before that ... good music. (scrambles to youtube) 

right on .... 18 years on and here I am, standing on my two feet, no more crawling on the floor like a baby, alive and well. I am reflecting on what life has done to me, the good, the bad, and really everything EVERYTHING so i guess this is gonna take at least an hour. 

1st month- really great dinner at chinese restaurant and i ... being small and all of course could not eat so ... i ate there i think when i turned 16... beautiful and glorious food. never in my life have i eaten great and rich chinese food and it was the first time eating buddha jumps over the wall, yes it is a type of food. surprise! absolutely purrrrfect ! velvet.  

1 year old - hand foot mouth incident, which coincidentally hit me on my birthday, and again when i turned 17... I guess it is a 16 year cycle. It killed me, and really was painful to get a child disease. But it also showed me who really did care for me, family, my beloved class and lao shi! yes you cant believe it but i would love to do a SHOUT OUT to lao shi!!!! she was the only teacher to check up on me and really showed LOADS of concern towards me. Eventhough i was her weakest student, most shy student, and really cannot make it in chinese, It was through her guidance and really really PATIENCE that got me through... i mean even though i got a U in the end i still think that she really deserves STANDING OVATION !!! THANK YOU LAO SHI !!!! 

2 years old- I think i was living at Kathib at that time, really really East in Singapore. But i think i still can remember the time when we went to Delifrance, and my godsis fell off the chair. And broke her teeth. sigh. Anyway now my godsis is already going to an arts school and is doing some fashion stuff. I would not say that she is my confidant but quite a good friend that i meet every year, christmas, new year chinese and western, and just random meetings. For being a great friend, talking to me and all, just slacking in each other's company and FINDING POLAROID FOR ME !!!! muchos muchos THANK YOU !!! SHOUT OUT TO YOU !!! 

3 years old- I remember not very clearly in that childish brain of mine that I had the ability to say hi-po-pot-a-mus a five syllable word, and it is all thanks to my FATHER ! he had read to me since, pre birth and the way that he tells stories is really hilarious, though sometimes he repeats his stories especially about army, he tells it in the SAME ECSTATIC way, one of the BEST storytellers i have ever known. I remember he would stay up and read poldy to me and kiss me goodnight, he would pray every morning for me before i go to school up till TODAY ! Sometimes he is really stern but i know that inside he really has my interest at heart and really deeply cares for me ALOT ALOT !!! so SHOUT OUT TO DAD !!!!

4 years old- kindergarden, I remember i still have that photo of the first day of school, my mum helping me put on my socks to go to apple tree. My mother is the BEST mother in the world, though sometimes i wish that she would go away and stop nagging about how my room is a total mess but she has been really patient and a true mother to me. I know that she sometimes cannot see it from my view but she would take time and sit down to talk to me, counsel and of course make fun of me. After viewing back, my mother has really been the one that has been pushing me on, All my dreams and all that i wanted to achieve, my mother has been probably my GREATEST SUPPORTER !!!! so thank you mum THANKS FOR ALLLLLL THESE 18 years. 

5 years old-  My shu shu ! i remember now... he was the one, that taught me really how to speak, how to act and how to tell stories. He may not know this but he is my MOST LOVED of all my relatives, I remember watching the Germany vs Poland game of the world cup and how insane we got when Germany scored at the last 5 mins otherwise that 100 dollars we bet would have gone down the drain. And the breakfast the next morning, really a VICTORY BREAKFAST ! i remember playing boat with him, we would go from one bed to another throw pillows and tell stories of the sea and really everything. so WITH GREAT AND DEEP GRATITUDE THANK YOU SHU SHU !!! 

6 years old- My grandad, i remember living with them, overnight before chinese new year. I am what he calls me his bao bei which i really find endearing and very awwww. He is my great mentor, eventhough he cant really speak great english, he can speak nearly every other language, malay, tamil and ALL the chinese dialects in Singapore with a poised accent, probably where i picked up my love for language from. Also he taught me calligraphy and taught me how to be "cantonese" and good manners along with gentlemanness (what ever that is) so really really being a great mentor, though silent at times brooding and just stately, he is an excellent grand father so jumping !!! great thanks !!!! MM GOY YE YE !!! THANK YOU !!! MUACK !!! XOXO!!!

7 years old- My first day of primary school, I met no one in particular that really made an impact on my life so i shall thank ... mmm my grand ma ! my grandma is the MOST really the MOST funny person in our family i guess there was where i got my sense of humor from. I remember she would carry me around because then i was quite afraid of my grandfather because i think he scolded me quite loudly so... i clung to my grandma more. I have a piece of jade with my teeth marks on it because everytime she carried me i would bite on it, imagine that a jade pacifier ... so much for a silver spoon. Anyway she is the BEST COOK EVER !!!! at chinese new year she can cook up 10 to 11 dishes not including soup for a dinner which is THE BEST!!!!!!!! the table will be overflowing and just taste out of this world! so with all great thanks MM GOY MA MA !!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU !!!! MUACK MUACK !!! XOXOXOXO !!! 

8 years old- hah !!! this is probably the most funny ! i would love to thank my teacher, Mr Chan, he was an old man but told stories like a DREAM, the way he told stories interested me loads into reading and writing my own. Because his stories were often spontaneous and he made us continue the stories for him in our composition. His telling of stories really OPENED THAT IMAGINATION OF  MINE !!!! Also he was a really kind man, treating us to chinese new year candies, the expense that he went to teach us was just god sent ! so THANK YOU THANK YOU !!! Mr. CHAN !!!

9 years old - My bro is about 2 years now, he is the clown of the house. Though quite a prick at times, i find that he is trying to emulate me but failing rather badly at it. Sigh i guess somethings just cannot be. But he has been a really good brother thinking of me always and being patient with the snide comments i say to him. so really really thank you !!! THANK YOU for being my BRUDDER ! 

10 years old - this was probably the most amazing friend that i have ever known! my da jie. she was what i would call, the bestest sister i EVER had ! I had just got to know her, living near me and all. But i refused to tell anyone about her, she was my secret. But nearly everyday I would meet up with her and play, talk and she was probably the BESTEST friend i ever had. All the way up to my 15 th birthday, that was the impact that she had. a real shaper in my life. 5 years of GREAT FRIENDSHIP !!! just the best to me. she would be willing to stay all night just listening to me. I can remember just sitting outside of macdonalds and just sitting there till next morning watching the sun rise. I can remember vividly the time she taught me how to sing,  a really great singer she was. perfect pitch so i tried to learn a bit from her. she said i was "her one and only student that had such an unbelievably deep voice" sigh, it was really really nostalgic times. my da jie, i remember standing there beside her coffin, and the tears just would not stop, the amount of impact that she had on me had been ended in a single moment. I remember endless crying for the whole week and even when i think of her sometimes, the tears just well up. But i have moved on, Her 18th birthday present to me, another jie nearly exactly like her. really really LOVE THE PRESENT YOU GAVE TO ME... SHE IS AN ANGEL !!!! I pray you are doing well up there watching over me. so THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOUTHANK YOU there is no way that i can thank you less ... THANK YOU Da jie ! 

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!!!

I have been eating cake NONSTOP... i might just turn into a giant cheesecake. really FULL TANK... it is nearly impossible to narrate all that has passed through my mind today. It is just toooooooooo long, but i shall .... attempt to do the impossible. 

Well it all began at 10 am on 25th may .... to cut a long story short, our friend was coming. 

As such we decided to have lunch and wait for him to come. Which he toook till bout 9 odd to reach, and so it began... the constant eating, hor fun. Then we sat at Macs and chatted for a really long while. I guess this is the first year i have crossed sitting in Macdonalds. Anyway the first person to usher in my birthday is my beloved JIE !!!! and so i have turned 18... sap faat as we cantonese would say... really faat faat ... got alot of fook ok ! alot of prosperity and muchos muchos prosperity.

Anyway... following that i tried ... with great desperation to study for economics till 3am. which gave me only 3 hours of sleep which is what i am still powering on... and nearly killed me during the exam. The exam was easy but i was sleepy so it resulted in a near disaster... thankfully i brought in water, wash face drink... ok ! now i can do the paper... eyes were tearing...too tired and shack. 

so dragging my feet i managed to pull off a convincing show of liveliness at my class's celebration of my birthday which i ate cake and had many really MANY people whom i would never believe would wish me happy birthday did... REALLY THANK YOU ALLLLLLLL... YOU ALL ARE LOVELY PEOPLE !!!! 

After that ... Seoul garden... met up with my ex class really funny... bunch of people. they were brilliant and sang me the happy birthday thing again and again and again ! but it was really sweet and nice of them so THANK YOU AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN ! 

following that .... my lovely family celebration turned out into a full all out invasion of Mondo mio.... the entire extended family turned up. it was great I loved it i hope they did too and ate cake again ! (oh if my GP tutor saw the way i wrote this blog, the grammar that i use is DISGUSTING) and ironically my bro got me a book on grammar... can you believe it ... ! 

I wanted to upload photos but i realized that my photos are all in film... probably need to scan them in... sigh oh well today has been really really really really tiring... BUT I AM SOOOOO HAPPY !!!! so thank you ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL THAT HAVE MADE THIS DAY SPECIAL FOR ME THANK YOU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

well... I FOUND POLAROID!!!!!!

I am absolutely ECSTATIC !!! i have found polaroid film ! oh and whoops i forgot to say that i damaged my lights by throwing the rugby ball into the ceiling. whoops. unbelievable when i last expected that I would be able to find POLAROID 600 my god sis found it !!! oh oh !! also my jie is also helping me out !!! so so happy !!! LOADS of nice people around, I really dont regret coming to Serangoon JC meeting my jie and several good friends. Absolutely brilliant ! And i have been convinced to use another site as well as this... just that this will still be my main site. THANK YOU ALLLLLLL !!!! (loudly shouting!!!!) for being lovely people!