english prelims

I am sitting in Chris' house now updating my blog, which I haven't done for a very long time. Not that many people will read it, since it's the prelims. English today was majorly fucked up, just like the previous few weeks have been. Of course, SOME people have no idea the kind of havoc they can wreak on a person's mental health. OH well. I finished the prelims paper 10 minutes early, then started this stream of consciousness thing on the spare bit of foolscap.

I wrote about a full page when ms chia came along and asked, "Is that question 18?(the summary)" I was like "heh heh, yeah" I was afraid she would read it. It was rather vulgar. So, it rounded up the notion that I go through my life perpetually embarrassing myself.

emath and combined humans on monday. like wtf man.

none

can't stand it anymore.

Through the Window

Looked out through the grilles and the glass
Saw a dog, green grass, people jogging
A road, sometimes a car, on occasion
A bike or two
Nothing unusual

But something else moved

Out of the corner of my eye, the bleak
Ordinary, I peeped,
And couldn't see

Looked fully out again
And how swiftly everything went back as it should be
The store, trees, a mynah
The grass
So full and lush
Where no one appeared to step

I turned my back from the window
A breeze blew through a crack
Touched me gently on the neck
So softly

And I went back again
To look out through the grilles and the glass
Hoping to see something different
Already knowing what I would find




This poem is about imprisonment. depressing. I have a happy thought though--it all ends soon enough. even the o-levels...

like every other

This is like every other day... Which would mean boring, depressing, and entirely unsalvagable. of course, what would there be to feel miserable about? Let's see. The prelims are about 2 and a half weeks away. less. and I know i'll do very badly. vair vair badly. Um...my sister's birthday is coming and i'm watching ehr get everything she wants. while i get deprived again. My parents are yelling at me mroe than ever because of everything...school sucks, and i feel as valuable as a broken radio. among other things... which also suck/

This is the thing about bloggin that I like. I can string useless sentences together that don't make sense. Has anyone figured out what The Raven means yet? It about sums up my life. Sigh. After this, I will go back to do the 10 year series. I also have this chronic headache that's been around for a fortnight. I can't even sleep it off, panadol doesn't work. I feel like breaking down...

I was so tired last night...so so so tired. Like i said before, hopeless as ramming down a wall with a toothpick. FInally got down to watching Constantine. It started out well, but then descended into the profoundly stupid.

What am i supposed to do now? so washed out...like those little dead shellfish that get washed up by the tide on the beach. Then people crusht hem underfoot, or collect their dead shells and but them triumphantly on display. What a life. What a death...


no energy...

................oh yeah, national day. BLEAH...

PS: i realised how stupid i was. i changed the settings. now anyone can post. whoops should have done that a long time ago

destressing

I think that sec 4 has made all of us experts on this subject. How else would be be able to keep our sanity. Well, we haven't, but we're alive, aren't we?

I've realised that transplanting yourself from work to an activity you enjoy does very little to destress. By destressing, I think most people are trying to do is to get rid of that cluttered, foggy feeling in their heads. It's kind of like having papers lying all over the floor, the bed unmade, and the laundry in delocalised piles. It feels itchy, and you want to tear the thoughts out of your head. Doing something like playing the piano, or reading doesn't help, because you just become absorbed in another activity. Tearing yourself away from a computer game, or a book, has the same sensation as peeling yourself off math questions. Your mind has become so inerwined with the thing that you've been occupied with, that returning to a blank, notmal world is a shock. Your brain thinks it's still doing whatever it's ebing doing, leading to that cluttered feeling. Somehow, after stopping anything, you feel the weight of your consciousness more than ever.

My theory is that the only way to destress is to immerse yourself in a totally brainless action. Like staring into space, or watching TV. Problem is, you can't lose yourself in these things after your brain's been working at full speed. I think that's why people need to go on medication and things. The vicious cycle never ends.

Maybe I'll stick a tap in my head, open the faucet, and drain the thoughts out.

Oh yeah, I jst realised I've had this blog for a year. Haha. Like anything has changed for the bettter. The posts are proof of that. HAHA.

The Raven

I like this poem, it's a bit long, but very haunting.

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."
'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating," '
Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;
---Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,Lenore?,
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,"Lenore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore
.Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore."
'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore.
"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,
---Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore
--What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath sent thee
respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!
"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted
--On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!
"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore
--Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore
---Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

the Awesome predator

While doing a bio worksheet, scott had called a marmot the Predator of Grass. I have written a descriptive paragraph for this.

The marmot stalked up stealthily on its prey. The grass was unaware at first, and continued swaying in the breeze. However, just before the marmot took a swipe at it, the grass realised the danger that it was in. It was rooted to the spot in fear, and it had no where to run. In sheer desperation, it attempted to blend into the lush field by being green. This tactic did not fool the vigilant marmot. It saw the grass clearly. With one swift motion, it decapitated the blade of grass, wrenching at it with its paws. The marmot gulped down the unfortunate blade of grass. However, in its last death throes, the grass, being made of cellulose, made the marmot choke a little. The next time, the marmot would be more careful. Grass made for cunning little buggers.

tyred

I just did something very stupid. I was ranting on this post, then I pressed some key, and the whole window closed. Now I am pissed as well as depressed. Pissed at myself. By the way, I wouldappreciate it if people stop telling me that I don't have to worry about the prelims. I am as worried as anyone else, whether or not I have a confirmed place. I don't want to leave school with a mediocre record, and that is why my math and physics marks freak me out. I am tired of people sayign they would really like to be me. If you knew, you wouldn't say that.

Secondly. I had a depressing dream alst night. I was running after this steam train as it chugged further and further away. This is not a good thing to be dreaming about jstu before you wake up. Especially on a monday morning, when nothing has changed and its the same old routine again.

Thirdly, my parents keep telling me that math and sciences are "given" subjects. Like what the hell is that supposed to mean? Just because they found it easy, doesn't mean that it is. They think that the humanitites are useless, and will very likely force me into the science stream in JC. I am not going to the science stream. It is boring and a waste of time...I do not intend to be a doctor or a scientist. I am going to take the arts, and I shall enjoy doing it.

Tyred sums up what I feel now. This is because I feel tired, and that i've been rolled over by a giant monster truck. Giant as an adjective for monstor truck is actually quite redundant. However, if I was not Julie Chan, Anne would be telling me what a clever girl/boy I was. I liked her outfit today. It was very striking. Maybe if I wore soemthing like that, I wouldn't be so invisible anymore.

Tomorrow starts with chem lab. I hate chem lab. I hate bio lab more. Well, i generally hate all lab lessons. They suck. Wow lok at me, i'm throwing a towering tantrum. I think that it is stress.