Friday, November 25
Family is most important in your life.
Having a high focus on family indicates that you are a loving and nurturing person. You want to have a nice big family of your own, and you are very close with your siblings and parents.
Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com |
d e b b e e e kvetched at 1:44 PM
Thursday, November 24
I am good in two things: enraging others and upsetting myself.
It's been a long, gloomy, wet week. I don't think anyone fancies arguments. I, for one, believe that senseless quarrels sap energy like vacuums, like the Black Hole, like hygroscopic salts - unnecessary yet inevitably concurring.
Exactly twenty-two words from my mouth and I manage to wreck the night before bedtime. A sisterhood of near nineteen years is never immune to pettiness and a certain extent of childish, stubborn nature, as proven about half an hour ago. Three hopeful lines into the chilly air ignites little response other than turn up the chill.
Silly, silly.
I know my remedies well. To cry into my instant noodles to Romeo+Juliet is amazingly therapeutic; to crank up the volume for Radiohead is a neat trick; to go to bed and pray that Jesus comes tomorrow morning takes the cake.
Dozing off involuntarily on:
1. buses to and from school;
2. during the classic supposed-horror movie, Psycho; and
3. in front of the computer
just says it all.
Fwah.
I feel like I'm spinning on a stationary chair.
This spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e.
So, excuse me while I indulge in remedy #3.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 9:59 PM
Tuesday, November 22
I quite like CommIss lectures.
Who doesn't like MTVs and funny Budweisser commercials?
[Cue: "Wassuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup?"]
I was especially tickled by the Numa Numa Dance thingy today.
And that, being the sole saving grace for my school week, is extremely sad.
Well, to tell the truth, I detest school with almost indecent enthusiasm nowadays. It is greatly traumatising to be crushed by the 15-minutes rule this semester. 'Tis ridiculous! How can FMS be as unfeeling as to mark me absent so many times for coming into class past the 15-minute mark? I actually make an effort to turn up and you mark me absent? You might as well get ready to dismiss me on basis of perpetual absence due to frequent latecoming (probably only by 16 minutes or so each time).
I have already been marked absent for being more than 15 minutes late twice for feature lectures alone. "Incredibly well done!" I tell myself. It will be my eternal joke-of-a-lifetime to be the top student who gets dismissed for being too late, always. Yay.
It's rotten enough to have 151 break down in the middle of the road on my way to school. I felt real stupid when I overslept on the next bus which was 154. Then plenty of salt had to be rubbed in by marking me absent. It was a cold and stormy morning.
People say life is beautiful.
Let's make a school checklist for irrelevant reasons!
1. I&E in Action project
2. Radio Magazine (about Pontianaks)
3. CommIss essay (about online shopping)
4. CommIss group project
5. WebD creative journal
6. WebD portfolio site
7. Feature 1 Project
It is only freakin' Week 4, for goodness' sake.
Whatever it is, I need to thank God for His faithfulness, through it all. He sustained my grades, despite mounting distractions and obligations. I feel greatly blessed. I do hope I don't let Him down for this semester because I strive to be a better role-model in terms of studies.
To be top is nothing; to be on top of my own game is everything.
I want to come up with birthday resolutions because I can't wait for New Year's.
Coming soon.
Real soon.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 9:38 PM
Monday, November 21
You know I hate to see (hear) you cry.
I feel like a lousy friend.
And I absolutely hate that.
If only I have all the time in the world.
If only I know what to say.
If only I can help.
I want to be a better friend in 2006.
I promise.
YouthCamp
+
ChristmasMusical
+
Junior Sunday School
+
SchoolWork
=
NeverEndingIllness
Youth camp is coming in 2 weeks' time.
I really want to have a good time.
40 more days to 2006!
It only gets better.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 7:40 PM
Saturday, November 19
His Love
Raymond Badham
Key: E
Intro:
F#m A Emaj9
Your light is over me
flooding over me
the night is lifted
Heaven over me
flooding over me
I can't contain it
My cup overflows
My cup overflows
Praise the Lord with all my heart
Praise Him for He has done great things
His banner over me is love, His love
His banner over me is love, His love
You brought the sunshine in
and turned the dark to day
You made the shadows flee away
You opened my eyes
to a new and living way
the dawning of a brand new day
I actually smile and start twirling around in circles, prancing like a fool and waving my hands madly to this song. Only at home, of course. Sometimes, I think my mum wonders why I get all excited and insane over blasting tunes over the comp speakers. Yeah, I act pretty weird at home. And that's without dotdot (my ultra lovely baby pillow of many faithful years) by my side, mind you.
So, I really do fancy happy songs. I went around with a cheshire grin the entire day after listening to it yesterday. It has been a long time since I felt this exhilarated. Almost like there was an unspeakable joy emanating deep within, like the world suddenly became beautiful and my life so wonderous.
I am content.
However, when it came to leading this song, I must concede defeat and express deep, deep, deep disappointment. It just felt... ... different. The vibes were wrong, the joy evaporated. Maybe it's my lethargy that robbed the song of its energy. I feel so dui. Never mind, I shall go listen to Hillsong's version then I'll be happy again.
I hope lah.
Yay. I got my maid dress today. Christmas musical should be a blast with all the wacky costumes.
Oh, come laugh at my Filipino-accented banter!
Oh, come watch me dance with the broom and feather duster!
Oh, come hear me sing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with gutso!
I never knew why I had such affinity with maid roles. Does my forehead sort of spell M-A-R-I-A or something? It's fun lah, but being a maid all the freakin' time gets boring after awhile. I prefer something less tiring and more serious. But I guess the role is stuck.
I can't wait for youth camp, then christmas, then new year's day. I want to usher in 2006 with a bang and start running for the real stuff in life. I want to start soon, then continue running all the way into heaven. You can hear that I am feeling really happy now, I guess.
I am on a roll now. Since I am so high now, I might as well say this: I really, truly like my friends for who they are and who they aren't. Movie marathon mates like Yvonne and Alisa, youth comm comrades like Kim and Em, and youth music ministry people like Foxy, who thinks dotdot is called jubjub - what an insult. I don't really know why or how, but these people really keep me sane and going. I feel happy, happy, happy, happy!
Perhaps it's a new phase. No more dark, depressed, angry teenage years. I greet the looming twenties with a sunshine smile and a song to sing. Songs of hope and joy and love. I am not afraid of the big two! Of course, I still get emotional and teary once in a while, but let's face it - who doesn't? It's healthy to be pensive occasionally, I say. But yes, I want to strive and see 2006 as a happy year down in memory!
This lovely song, His Love, shall be my 2006 theme song (: I just love songs about His banner over me being love. First my favourite signature sunday school song then this. Ha ha! Come, smile with me! I know, I just know that 2006 will be a special year for me. God will shower me with surprises throughout.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 11:56 PM
Tuesday, November 15
somebody help me o somebody. anybody. everybody.
amidst changing gears between being horribly ill, suffering in a seriously suffocating school, juggling camp and musical plus all the other nitty gritty areas of my tornado-ed life, i have to concede defeat. there's no way i can keep up with all the stuff going on around me, especially when it's the jolly season drawing near, when my nose keeps doing its lil marathon.
there are still so many things i want to do.
there is always too little time, even for the things i am expected to do.
c'mon my lovelies.
pray for me.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 11:38 PM
Saturday, November 12
The intolerable self.
I spy the noisy fan that spins and spins tirelessly.
My fingertips hesitates in its tap dance.
Ah, the times when words fail me.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 1:26 AM
Monday, November 7
I have never felt so paiseh in my whole history of cabbing. Within a S$4.00 cab journey from Bedok to Siglap, I was reduced to tears that were worthy of the tragic-est Korean drama. Never have I met a cab uncle as adept at storytelling; he poured out his family tragedy with a twinge of tired resignation, half-smilingly bitter.
So I thought, 'It's one of those real life melodramas, deb. No need to get worked up over it.' I managed to maintain my composure whilst I was in the cab, but damn. I started choking on words after alighting and the tears just tumbled. So paiseh.
The tale started in the days when this 67-year old uncle was a young detective with the Singapore Police Force, with a loving wife and four kids, three sons and the youngest being a 6-month old baby daughter then. Apparently, he brought a nephew, whose age was pretty close to his own, out of Malaysia and into Singapore to earn a living but this ingrate got into a love affair with the cab uncle's wife, who was several years older than this detestable nephew.
So, the ingrate became very, very close to the family and then one beautiful morning, he was - ugh - caught red-handed by the cab uncle's third and youngest son. Thinking that their father would probably gun the unfaithful wife down if he knew, the cab uncle's sons decided to keep the affair a secret for at least twenty years. By the time they were ready to tell their father the truth, he was already sixty-five or thereabout.
Naturally, he confronted his wife after hearing about the affair. She pleaded guilty and collapsed in front of him, but this nasty little wanton witch followed up with a false report of attempted murder by her husband to the police. The incident was then, brought up to the Syariah Court and the poor can uncle had no choice but to agree to a divorce. And next thing he knew, the adultress married his nephew within the year they got divorced. I hope she lives in the permanent shadow of guilt, that liar. And that ingrate, too.
Oh, the deceitfulness of a woman's heart.
All these within a S$4.00 ride.
Imagine the succinct nature of the cab uncle's narration.
Imagine the depth of his quiet resentment.
Imagine how stupid I felt tearing in front of my lovely comrades.
They were so lovely - Kim, Em, Manda, Mich, Ben - they didn't laugh at me.
I kind of like having coffee with them.
So fun.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 6:22 PM
Friday, November 4
So I'm awaiting the exclamation mark in my life, now that the ominous question mark has slowly trailed off behind my elongating silhouette as I stumble, battleworn, into a foreign land of blinding light.
I believe it will be an encounter I will not regret. Not that I ever looked upon the eroteme with disdain, of course - I am never such an ingrate. It was precisely that which made the woman, did it not? Then again, perhaps it was a rhetorical question mark that pointed her away from the life-sentence, which I may mean literally, or may not mean at all.
I do not profess to know the woman. We could be stuck in the interrobang for years and years to come. Or what if the life-sentence was a right mistake at the end of everything? All the guessing is so silly, I'd rather just sit and wait for the big bang!
I secretly wonder if there are people afraid of blogger[dot]com.
d e b b e e e kvetched at 10:46 AM