Caffeine addiction is back in full swing. Went through about four highs and four lows today. Evil. Vocab notebook is on the fourth entry already. I've officially managed to keep to a schedule! Then again 50% of my entries I had to back date.....
Why I need new friends:
LD: i bet the pope is just playing dead, and theres all these people watching him lying in state but its really jsut a wax dummy made by madam tussauds
LD: and then at his funeral, he'll jump out from behind a curtain and yell "psyche!"
In my younger days, I had an english teacher. I can't remember her name now but she was simultaneously my most hated and most loved teacher at the time. It's a dichtomy but that's life.
Each week she would make us get fifty new vocabulary words each. Each week she would check our notebooks so see how we were doing.
I want to get better in writing. I think it helps with the creativity and the works of the anacrusis guy just inspires me.
To this end, I've created a new forced writing blog which I call my Vocabulary Notebook. Each school day I will go to dictionary.com's word of the day and write a story utilizing that word. I was meant to start yesterday but I got lazy. So I started today with the word Temporize. I drafted the story in school. I actually liked my draft better. For some reason though, I decided to leave the paper in school, choosing instead to fold it and write the URL of my blog down. Shameless self promotion, yes but I doubt it got read anyway. Probably got promptly thrown in the trash.
So yeah. My writing can only get better. I hope. Onward ho!
To paraphrase: It's my birthday tomorrow. I turn 21. I like games.
Biiiiig 20 today. I am officially old. Hopefully I can open a new blog later today about writing. Stuff. Whee.
Oh. Writing to gush about. Go on. You want to gush. You know it.
I want to write something about two-nought. Too many damn things rhyme with it. Poem kind of things. I am the rhyme master.
"Don't just go through Hip-hop, let Hip-hop go through you"
There are too many paragraphs in this post.
This is a paper I had to do for english class where we had to write a memoir. The prof limited us to a single page because we were all whining for a low minimum page count. That was evil but I decided to add more challenge to it by using the format that Anacrusis uses, that is I limited myself to 101 words per part. Click on read more to read the full paper. I don't think it lives up to the standard of the author of Anacrusis but eh, it works.
Plates clatter on the table. One is stacked high with onion rotis, another threatens to overflow with curry. Their aromas tantalizingly entwine before mingling with the hundred other smells of the hawker stall. Delon tears off a strip of roti, swabbing the curry before devouring it. Worrying between bites he muses, "So many of us going away. Thomas and Edmund going to NS. Jeiel is going back to Philippines. We going to lose contact man, our friendship how?" Over our favourite meal we mull the question. Over the din of the almost best roti stall. Its too crowded in the best.
“Yah, sometimes wild dogs roam around here”, Edison said gesturing at the road ahead of us. It’s later, on the same night. The road curves around, out of sight and into the shadows. Streetlamps barely light the way ahead. It’s eleven o’clock, the witching hour. We’re trekking through four kilometers of backroads and Delon’s unsure of our sanity. Justin peers into the trees, peeling back the darkness. “Wah, imagine we get ambushed by dogs from the trees”, he quips. “Like Resident Evil like that”. Thomas emerged from behind a dumpster, swinging a makeshift weapon around. “Lets go”, he declares with bravado.
“Eh, wait someones coming”, Edmund cautions. “Sounds like a big group”. Pai kias, we silently dreaded. Chinese gangsters. Thomas grimly tests the heft of the metal rod and we tighten our formation. Semper Fidelis; always faithful. We came around the bend to embrace the unknown fear, to come face to face with our adversaries. They numbered in the twenties, in columns of twos they advanced towards us. Rapidly assessing the situation Thomas hurriedly disposed of his weapon, embarassed. We’re not really sure what the boyscout troop thought about a gang of guys coming at them with a metal rod in hand.
We’re in back in civilisation, we’re safe. Now we walk through urbane wilds. Swigging the last drops of shandy, I consider the bottle’s weight. With abandon I toss it across a concrete chasm. It falls halfway, rippling to a thousand shards. Tipsy, I laugh at the act of rebellion against the country I’m leaving. A signpost says “No Littering”.
A week later, or so. April first is a horrible joke. Heng Boon sends a boyband song. I hate boybands but I cry anyway. A painful farewell to friends both absent and present in Changi airport.
A solitary walk to the plane.