My mother is a tall, elegant, gracious lady.
I, am a small, vicious girl who falls over a lot.
She's a shoe size 9.
I'm a dress size 1.
She always keeps her dignity.
I can never keep my temper.
She always comes out smelling of roses.
I'm always in shit.
Still, we manage to make it work somehow. = )
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
18
THEY put the Computer Science practical board exam the day before my birthday. How inconsiderate.
If the calendar was a giant cafeteria, my birthday would be on the cool table. And the board exam...well, it would most certainly would not. See, but THEY don't get this. They're putting a nerd on the cool table. You can't just do that, y'know.
So now I can't have a party.
I mean, I could have one all the way in April, after the board exams, but then it won't feel like a birthday party anymore. Not my birthday party, anyway. I mean, my birthday's always been in February. Obviously. But in February, it's cold and a little rainy and most people would wear black. But if I have it after the boards, it'd be all sunny and people'd wear bright colours. Like yellow. Or even, God forbid, orange. But I can't have that, see. Because my birthday is not an April-May birthday. It's a February birthday.
If the calendar was a giant cafeteria, my birthday would be on the cool table. And the board exam...well, it would most certainly would not. See, but THEY don't get this. They're putting a nerd on the cool table. You can't just do that, y'know.
So now I can't have a party.
I mean, I could have one all the way in April, after the board exams, but then it won't feel like a birthday party anymore. Not my birthday party, anyway. I mean, my birthday's always been in February. Obviously. But in February, it's cold and a little rainy and most people would wear black. But if I have it after the boards, it'd be all sunny and people'd wear bright colours. Like yellow. Or even, God forbid, orange. But I can't have that, see. Because my birthday is not an April-May birthday. It's a February birthday.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
My defence is paper thin, just one touch and I'll be in.
"I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself"
It hits you like a ton of bricks. That perfect song, at the perfect moment, every lyric echoing in your mind, every note in tune with the melody of your heart.
Usually it makes me feel good - to know that somewhere out there in the collosal universe that someone mirrors my thoughts. That I'm not alone, that there's someone else and that someone survived it.
But occasionally I wonder at how...generic human emotions are. That I am just a tiny, inconsequential, not-so-extraordinary speck.
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself"
It hits you like a ton of bricks. That perfect song, at the perfect moment, every lyric echoing in your mind, every note in tune with the melody of your heart.
Usually it makes me feel good - to know that somewhere out there in the collosal universe that someone mirrors my thoughts. That I'm not alone, that there's someone else and that someone survived it.
But occasionally I wonder at how...generic human emotions are. That I am just a tiny, inconsequential, not-so-extraordinary speck.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Why so serious?
I'm standing on a percpice, teetering, ready to be blown away by the next wind of change, to fall into the abyss below.
Sounds like a bad dream, doesn't it? Well, the precpice is this stage in our lives, when we look - some boldly, others unwillingly - into the unending, and more than unnerving, future ahead.
Doctor.
Baker.
Home-maker.
Heartbreaker.
Whatever you've always wanted to be is so close, yet just out of reach. Close enough to build hopes and dreams. Out of reach enough to give you that fear in the pit of your stomach, the fear that it can all be shattered...
But then I'm only 17, so I really don't think about these things all that much. I paint my nails different colours, listen to loud music and talk on the phone. = )
Sounds like a bad dream, doesn't it? Well, the precpice is this stage in our lives, when we look - some boldly, others unwillingly - into the unending, and more than unnerving, future ahead.
Doctor.
Baker.
Home-maker.
Heartbreaker.
Whatever you've always wanted to be is so close, yet just out of reach. Close enough to build hopes and dreams. Out of reach enough to give you that fear in the pit of your stomach, the fear that it can all be shattered...
But then I'm only 17, so I really don't think about these things all that much. I paint my nails different colours, listen to loud music and talk on the phone. = )
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