My Dear Tortoise

My dear tortoise...

GET WELL SOON!!!!!!!!

I even wrote you a poem.

Tortoise, I Love You.

You don't have a furry tail,
That wags when I walk in.
In fact you barely look at me,
Like I'm some dirt, therein.

I cut your vegetables, cut your fruits,
Carrots, cabbage, lettuce too
Yet you pick and pick and pick and pick,
Until they turn all mushy, like poo.

Your intestines are, very efficient,
They make my house smell 'good'.
That's why my mother screams at me,
To wipe your butt up, too.

Regardless what, when I watch you eat,
And place you in my palm,
You radiate, as much warmth,
As a rock picked from the ground.

I love you, Tortoise =)

God

God (g[o^]d), noun: 1. The supernatural being conceived as the perfect and omnipotent and omniscient originator and ruler of the universe; the object of worship in monotheistic religions.

- Webster's Online Dictionary -

I believe in God.

I believe in a higher power, unfathomable to the human psyche.

I believe in a world where our minds are cast redundant, unable to comprehend physical vortexes that barely brush our reality.

I believe, that despite the complexities of our dimension, there lies ahead one that functions in a way so distorted, human imagination is backhandedly plough-hammered.

But I do not believe in omniscience.

Dance In The Dark III

How much does it take for someone to bring us down?

All you needed to do was spit out your false accusations.
And my dignity will crumble at your feet.

Ask yourself,

How many times has he done this to you?
To break you down, tear apart, any shred of self-worth, of humanity left in you.
To annihilate, who you really are.

Together, we'll dance in the dark.

Lemme Tell You A Secret

Lemme spill some secrets.

Secrets that are not mine. Secrets that were, READ: FORCED, onto me.

Secrets that continue to haunt me, and their repercussions still ring within the hallowed halls of my consciousness.

Let me tell you.

He CHEATED on you. He cheated on you because he's a motherfucking bastard. He's a complete fake. A liar, contemptuous.

Yet it was ME you alienated. After YOU freakin' called me up almost every night to talk about HIM. About YOU. When all I wanted to tell you was that he's a disgusting scumbag undeserving to even adhere on the soles of your shoe.

When others knew, but they didn't tell. When I did. And you HATED me for it. For telling the truth.

That's what real friends are for. They tell each other the TRUTH.

Well, too bad for you then.

Rawr Rawr, Rawr Ah Ah!!!

I'm a free bitch, babeh!!!

*Not literally... YET... since class tests, practical exams and EOS are coming up. THEN I'll be a free bitch.*

Stresssssss...........

I love Lady Gaga...

Currently addicted to Super Junior, BoA and TVQX...

OMG!!!!!!!!!!

*This post doesn't make any sense... I'm just crapping*

Dancing on stage is fun... especially when you syok sendiri.

P110 Orientation is OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET TO GO HOME EARLY!!!!!!!!!

"Speechless" in my sidebar is up a note higher than the album version

Maybe getting 'The Fame Monster'.

Snakes... I'd rather it were me than you...

Can the Heavens grant me this request?

What I Would Trade

Someone that has taken care of me for the most part of my young life was recently diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer.

What do you do in this situation?

What can you do?

Was driving along when a song came on the radio.

"...Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now..."

What I would trade for a chance to do that.

Dance In The Dark II

I cannot get enough of this song. It sends me into a Grace Kelly mood.

Into a world of faded glamor and plastic beauty. Of red velvet and maroon shagging. Of baubles and laces, of cigars.

Of truth hiding within dim confines, of ideals gone wrong.

Of crying when no one is looking.

Of not belonging.

Of rejection.

I feel your pain, girls.

"Find your Jesus, find your Kubrick."

DIY Fun

Okay. How to create fun.

Now, Fun cannot be created, or destroyed. It can only be transformed from dismal into appalling, with dashes of embarrassment, finally into something proportionate to joy before it can be classified as FUN.

In the best of words, it can be labeled as an euphoric self-intoxication.

In the process of manufacturing fun., certain procedures must be followed to the T, while others are simply guidelines to vertically steer the operation, and prevent weird deviations bordering on creepy and maniacal.


Step 1: Warm up...

... Your vocal chords, arms, legs, torso, basically any aspect of your physique in a bid to prevent sprains and bruises, also to release crazy chemicals in your brains to further ease into Step 2, which is Losing Yourself.

Step 2: Lose Yourself..

... In a manner that is proper which does not reveal schizophrenic facets of your character or any unflattering body parts.

Step 3: Stand at a Vantage Point...

... This should be your M.O. Position yourself at a place where you can be seen and heard, yet not too high whereby you may hurt yourself falling when being mobbed, or when you need to escape the frenzy of hate of FUN GONE WRONG.

Step 4: Thick Skin...

... is useful when you need to belt out something that is brimming with malu-ation. It also helps when things are thrown at you.

Step 5: Laugh...

... When you see people suffering. Laugh when everything is going wrong, and your world is crumbling down. Laugh, and hope that someone doesn't send you away. Laugh, laugh and laugh, but don't accidentally pee yourself.



Those are the five steps for generating a semblance of FUN, bordering slightly on hysterical and insanity, banking on syok-sendiriness.

Most importantly, ENJOY YOURSELF!!!

And hopefully... No one thinks you crazy afterwards.

Perils of Eating Fast

Some people crave such talent.
Some people abhor it.
Mostly it goes unnoticed.
But quickly it becomes a sore thumb.

The ability to eat fast.

Not just fast fast. But to engulf an entire meal within minutes, to inhale and devour without the trivialities of chewing. To swallow everything WHOLE.

Okay, maybe that was a tad out of line.

But you get my drift.

Being the first to finish a meal, to sit there full while dishes are still being laid out. Pushing the gravy around on an empty plate while people munch away belligerently, oblivious to your discomfort.

The discomfort of being the odd one out.

So maybe that's what it all boils down to. The singling out, cast-offed, albinism in a flock of crows.

PLUS, when you eat fast, you tend to eat more; of which the consequences are summed up nicely in the following equations;

Amount of food consumed, cm3 = [(Maximum stomach distension/ Time taken for stomach to reach full distension) x Eating speed]

Fat = (Amount of food consumed/ Eating time)

Hence, as eating time decrease OR eating speed increases, Amount Of Food Consumed and Fat increases respectively.

Simple maths.