Thursday, June 26, 2008 . 10:35 PM

Sch's in.I'm out.

sigh. I get the empty feeling when nobody is reading my blog. Who cares anw. It's sucky. w00t.

Anw Ms Sharma didn't come and there was this shitty guy who looked like a monkey who stood outside and came in and at first i thought he was the damn relief. Till he said that he's the relief for the entire Geog lessons. Not that he said that, but i gleaned that off his body language. And dear old monkey happens to be 30+, haven't break voice like so he's like cracking at every higher note he makes in his T1 voice. Solihin snubbed him in a rather smart manner hahas. He sux anw. I have the feeling that why Ms Sharma didn't become our Geog teacher is cos of timo that fagger. Last year go rub her butt. That pervert.

Today is such a good morning. That is, if there were no 4.8km run. And anw dear old PE teacher gave us a good pushhup position cos we late. then run to the ECPark lagoon.Halfway i gave out cos too tired. (actually i had the strength but i lack willpower.) so i trudged across the sand beach and got my shoes and socks full of the gritty stuff, then pretty much walked the 2.5km back. There were occasional sprints, of course but i definitely had no strength by then. I'm underweight and i ate a light breakfast so i had no spare energy for the run. so when i finally show up at the finishing line,
Ryan:Yeah spastic! class position 18! woo!
Me:groan.
and i collapsed on the grass and waited till my breath was more close to normal than heart attack mode. And i stoodup and :
Ryan to passing guy:Finishing line there.
Me:WTF Ryan you a@#h^&* you never tell me the damned finishing line is there!
Ryan: ah too bad you never ask.
Me: then why you tell the other guy?!
Ryan: it's called pure randomness. So now ur classposition is 22. ah!!!
Me:...

So i said that i was still 18, i dont care. And Ryan said that im 22. so i write that im 18 and he writes that im 22. whatever.
And anw now my shoe's dead, my ankles are so darn painful that i'm pratically hobbling,my calf muscle is aching, i am super hungry, and im dead tired. damn run.

And choir today i feel so sad. cos there's reauditions and i not only got to still be sop i get 'promoted' from S2 to S1. Sang a high E for clement. Then ask to transfer to bass too many (20++)so cannot. test tenor range i cannot reach the higher parts. whatever. and there's some new song to learn which sounds like 'cranberry i-forgot-what'. no score yet. damn speech day too.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008 . 12:56 PM

Moving house


The boy looked out of the airplane window. It was twilight, and the world outside the window (he had the window seat) was dark, save for a few twinking lights which came from the plane wing and a long row of faraway, little lights which represented the airport. Adjusting his position in the soft Emirates seat, he looked at the touch-screen monitor, decided against playing games, and reflected on the past few months leading up to the current point in the History of John Bannikins, himself.

John Bannikins had a Singaporean father and an aussie mom who met one day in Sydney. His father was on a self- treated holiday to Brisbane while his mother was on a business trip- to Brisbane- she lived in Sydney. So the two new aqquainteces took the 10-hour train there, ad got to know each other very well indeed. His father decided to prolong his stay for a few years (conviniently forgetting his kin back in Singapore), and kind Monica, his future wife, rented him a room in her little Sydney flat. And John came along.

Deciding that the little flat could not hold two adults and a noisy baby who would grow in time, Monica suggested buying a proper big house back in Brisbane. Hank agreed; both he and his wife liked the place.

Little John grew, and soon he was 3 years old. He had learnt rather alot of language now, due to Hank's 'kiasu' Singaporean upbringing. Hank usually rode to the local mart in a bicycle with John in tow, and when admiring people came by he would proudly say, 'John's a little marvel. John, show them what you've got.' Whereby John recited the entire alphabet (and got 'C' wrong)and did a 1 to 5 times table, and of course, called Hank 'Dad'. The admirer would clap and go away, wisfullf wishing that he had a son like that. John's life was very fun-filled and happy till then.

However Hank was finally called back by his parents. They demanded him to be fillal and bond with them again. So he had to go back. Monica wanted to go to; she couldn't live without him. 'But what about John?' said Hank. So John was given a choice. Not really understanding, he gurgled like a baby and said, 'Australia good. Me like.' So his parents left him in the care of Cook, the housekeeper, a kindly- looking nanny in her old age, the stable man, and the horse Clover and the dog named Stud, taken from the place it was found outside as a little pup.

So for six years John played with Stud, rode on Clover, chatted with Nanny, persuaded the stable-man to let him help in cleaning and feeding Clover, and generally grew up somewhat. And the only sign that he had parents was the annual birthday- cum- christmas present. Which was usually rather lavish.

Until the telephone call came. John was slumped in a big armchair which dwarfed him, and when he heard the bring-bring noise customary of the house's antique 'phone he jumped up to answer it. 'Mom! Dad! ' and after he put the phone down after a rather lengthy discussion which involved most of the house's human occupants and much distress, he flopped down into the big armchair and sighed. On one hand he was elated to finally see his parents once again, but on the other he was to leave friends, the house, and Clover behind. God sure loved torturing people, he thought.

over the course of the next few months the furniture were moved, John's luggage was packed, and the house and Clover were sold. On the day the new owner came to take her away, he went to the stable to look at her for the last time. 'I'll miss you, Clover.' he said, and put his cheek against her long face. She snorted, and rubbed her face up and down his cheek, as though to comfort him. Big tears rolled down from his eyes, and dripped onto Clover's nose. Then the new owner came.

He was a short, stuttering artist fellow who looked at the mare with an expert eye. 'I'll take her, then.' he said. And he signed his name on a dotted line of the consent form. John peeped under his armpit and saw the words,' Shel Siverstein. 'Mr Shel', he called after the retreating figure leading Clover. He turned. 'Promise me that you'll take good care of her.' Shel Siverstein look at John. 'I...I..I p..proomise.' John was reassured, and hugged him . Mr Shel seemed to have a surprised look. Then he turned back and walked out of the house compounds.

John Bannikins lay down on the bed and cried for a long while.

Finally it was the Day itself. The occupants of the house all carried luggages out and excanged tearful goodbyes; after all there was now no longer any master they had to serve and they were unemployed. But first- they ensured that John was well and safe in the taxi before going their own separate ways.

John was in the taxi for another four hours and slept the hours away. When he woke up Sydney Airport was looming in front of him. The driver stopped and unloaded his cargo.

At the airport check-in counter there was a big, friendly lady. John automatically walked forward when the person in front of him walked off. 'John Bannikins. Hmmm. Travelling alone?' John nodded. 'Brave boy you are, eh?' John gave a weak smile. She reached over the counter and ruffled his hair. 'Have a safe journey.'

John awoke from his trance on the plane. The plane was moving now, and John saw a rather stupid video that told him about the safety aspects of the plane and the wonderful gadgets of his business-class seat.

When the plane touched down John got off and collected his baggage and dog carrier. Stud licked his face through the metal grille. He dumped his baggage onto a cart nearby with a kind soul assisting and wheeled the cart out of the luggage collection and into the wating arms of his father and mother. 'Welcome to Singapore, son.' John smiled at his father and higged him tightly. So, homework. I have quite alot left, and most to do with chinese. And then there's the primary school jumble sale and so in order to get some CIP hours I stoop low and make time for it. And so my burden of homework is in tow when I'm going to the sale to help out. ((my sis wants to go and help out too to get some hours cos she's an ex- HIPS student anw. But. the Club doesn't allow her cos it's from my batch onwards anw hahas. ;P But I still have alot of work, as abovefore mentioned, and there's like 4 days left b4 sch reopens. So I really die liaoz. Sigh.

And anw my storywriting skills have probably begun to degrade and waste away so I'm gonna write a story now to prove that it is so.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008 . 2:04 AM

Yay. The choir trip was a success. We got 99, then 91, and even had the privilege to enter the grand finals! (: So I'm super happi liaoz now but sadly enough there is always homework waiting. -_____-" So, after spamming chocolates tmr i'm gonna choing hw liaoz. Left 2-3 more weeks. Siann.

Anw Europe is so ex. One pack of cards I bought there = 7 euros = not worth it. Sigh. Buy so little, spend so much. Like that one. And so the trip, from Vienna to Oloumouc then to Cesky Kromlov (something like that)then to Munchen/Munich was fun, time-wasting, stress causing, starving, elation, so on. Yah. Vienna was so nice that i ended up spamming photos. Then at Oloumouc I got a little dissapointed cos the cobblestones were not what i imagine them to be like. But overall okay. At destination no. 3 the hotel was fantastic. Small hotel but huge room, man. Woah. And timber furniture everywhere. Spent the night playing cards and when Ms Lau came knocking on other ppl's doors we turned off the lights and I pretended to be sleeping heh heh. She didn't notice anw. (: Then Munich looked so quaint and cosy that I was thinking how the hell did Adlof Hitler manage to rise the XXX movement there. (no ill intentions.)So now cos im pretending to have jetlag when i don't really have im typing this. Night. Er, day. Woops.4.06. latest night spent awake, not counting the plane trip. heh heh. lol.