I saw this picture on Flickr with the caption as above.
Just. Brilliant.
He had another photo in the same set
“Even Batman sleeps on the train.”
Teehee.
And it turns out they’re part of a Six Word Story.
It’s a nifty project: shoot a picture & add a six word caption. Simple!
“Common sense loses yet another fight”
aaaahhhhhhhh.. I am in great need for a cameraaaaaa..
I wrote some strange things, few of thembarely funny which clearly defeats the purpose of this blawg where you, dear anonymous reader, is supposed to laugh WITH me. At least, you can laugh at me. I guess maybe laughing out loud won’t be the purpose for writing here.
Once upon a time I wrote for the sake of humor, on another public avenue prior to this. But it got tiring to write for an audience. I tempered and twisted what I thought and felt just to make it mildly humorous. I think about every single word I write. Can you imagine how long that takes? I wanted to write about more genuine things and moved over here. I wanted to remember things properly as they should be so that I really am in every word. Lo and behold, they are really pathetic stuff. I’m just laaaaaaaaame. That’s just how I roll, folks.
Heh, even with all of this I have yet to write a coherent paragraph for a project about hope and my homeland. Go figure. I’m vacillating between writing a very angry open letter or a fairytale bordering on delusional.
So with all of this emotionally charged poasty toasts, it only seems fitting that I end this with a song in a foreign language. It’s a pretty song sung by Feist. My French is terrible so you could probably do a better job looking it up on Babelfish. I cheated though and using an arsenal of online translators this is what I came up with. Do correct me if I’m wrong!
To listen: Feist - La Meme Histoire
Quel est donc ce lien entre nous, cette chose indéfinissable?
Où vont ces destins qui se nouent pour nous rendre inséparables?
What is this bond between us, this indefinable thing?
Where do these destinies go, to tie up themselves and render us inseparable?
On vit au jour le jour, nos envies nos amours
On s’en va sans savoir on est toujours dans la même histoire
We live from day to day, our desires, our loves
We go without knowing we are always in the same story
I figured hearts don’t break as easily as they make it out to be. They’re rather sinewy things, all muscles and heartstrings. Without faith, they corrode. Without exercise, they harden with cholesterol. So here it is, on my cleanest sleeve if you want it. It has your name on it. It’s up to you now.
It’s not the bravest thing I’ve done. Once I know that it’s unwanted, it makes it easier to wipe away the letters drawn on its arteries and veins. The distance helps. If I were a little less afraid, I would have waited. It would have hurt a little more. We’d be in the same city, separated by traffic jams. Combined together, the distance would equal a string of promises and excuses. I didn’t tell you. It’s better not knowing, no?
But this radish shaped thing? It’s yours for today, yours for the last dozens of days. Tomorrow it belongs to me again.
As a friend don’t I at least deserve a word?
Apparently an email that asks you:
“When will you be available to start?”
…..is another way of saying “Hey, we want you on our team!”…. well, something like it. I have been told it is pretty much an acceptance, albeit 80% of the way there. I didn’t know this. In the last interview I’ve had with another company, the woman had asked the same question but that did not end with an internship offer. So when I saw the email, I did a little noodle dance before happily rattling off a series of dates without saying a single thank you! *gasp* Oh the indecency!
Oh and did I mention that it was also CC’d to the COO of the company?
I feel like an uncouth little dweeb! I sent a separate email to the tune of: “THANK YOU FOR CONSIDERING ME! please reply me back pretty please <3.” Writing all of these corporate emails are more exhausting than writing a treatise on the benefits of pomegranate tea.
Until things are concrete, I’m reluctant to accept that I may have secured an internship. 80% of me is still in disbelief. The other 20% is wondering if she has just screwed herself with etiquette! Etiquette of all things! If this ends with just two little words - “not offered” - I could possibly sustain a little heartbreak.
Ahh.. internship rejections: busting your ego in one fell swoop over and over and over.
For those of you without an internship, hang in there! It’ll come sooner or later and when they send you a reply, any reply at all: REMEMBER TO SAY THANK YOU! It’s just courtesy. So they’ll know that your mother taught you well.
My parents wants to start a blog! It’s rather miraculous you see. They’re technologically averse, hate small fonts and harbors a deep seated paranoia towards the internet - i.e. like all living relics of our time. I kid. They’re probably reading this anyhow.
One of the reasons for starting up a website for them is because all of their friends are doing it. My parents want to keep up with the times. My parents want to be cool. NYAHA! Peer pressure was all it took!
It’s adorable really: My Parents First Adventure on the Blogging World. Oh joy!
Make a wish, place it in your heart
Anything you want, everything you wantDo you have it?
Good.
Now believe it can come true.
You never know where the next miracle is going to come from, the next smile, the next wish come true. But if you believe that it’s right around the corner and you open your heart and mind to the possibility of it, to the certainty of it, you just might get the thing you’re wishing for.
The world is full of magic. You just have to believe in it.
So make your wish.
Do you have it?
Good.
Now believe in it with all your heart.
taken from One Tree Hill
Dear Heart,
It’s time you accept some inalienable truths.
You see, it’s not a case of never being enough. Don’t ever believe that. It is a large heart. You are doing a fantastic job, keeping me alive. It’s just unfortunate that it is all you may ever have to do. You never need to pump harder. It may implode once in a while, like what it is now. But know that it will come back fortified.
One day, when all my muscle, gristle and bones have pounded itself from work into nothingness, they will see you too. They will see ventricles and atria, safely encased and whole. It is not a puzzle piece, incomplete. It still beats the same, it’s automatic. Dear heart, you will never break. That is why it is inalienably unfortunate to belong to me.
Exams have ended! I wrote a foot-long entry so I’ve decided to break it into bits. Now available in a trilogy! All good things come in threes no?
Ah Saturday. My day began at 7am and ended something close to twelve. The first exam was Marketing. It was surprisingly okay! I went inside the Bat Cave to review my essay outlines for Globalization & Information Society exam. I ended up singing French songs whilst writing out half a practice essay. I have been honorably bestowed with the title of Weirdest Girl I Know by a certain Khairunnisa. The exam was your regular Soc Sci essay exam. Four possible topics, one dice, two choices, one essay. Makes sense? Indeed. We flipped open the exam paper and the entire section squealed much to the dismay of the exam hall. We could choose any of the four topics we want! I wrote the exam happily, about Facebook and Friendster and how it has rocked your world a little too much. After the exams, I bounced, rolled and skipped all the way to the Bat Cave. Nisa and I were fooling around the piano, pretending as though we were making sweet sweet music. I contributed the terrible lyrics. We were waiting for four thirty to roll to start preparing for her 21st shindig and her cousin’s release into the wild.
I shuttled back to see SMUKI graduation thingymajig. It looks like they’re having fun. But I’d rather be with a girl in a milk maid suit and a superhero cape. The niftiest people came! Sometimes they came with large circular boxes full of cake! Sometimes they set their watch one hour late! Sometimes they bring their guitars and their band and their groupies and rocked the house with their music! Sometimes they’re mistaken for mat strippers! Sometimes they really suck at pool and air hockey! But mostly, they came and had fun and gave great hugs.
Alright that’s my week 15. I am officially a little past halfway through this biznatch called Higher Institutions of Learning! Despite the hair-pulling, teeth-grinding insanity, I don’t really want it to end.
Do you?
Exams have ended! I wrote a foot-long entry so I’ve decided to break it into bits. Now available in chronological order!
My second exam was tee-double-yoo-see, also known as Technology and World Change. It is brother of Ethics & Social Responsibility and Business, Government & Society and together they make a triage I’d like to call: The Holy Triviality. Ah Business Froth! The multimillion dollar industry that combines common sense with *gasp* business. It’s a close cousin of Marketing Strategy and it is rather interesting, just as much as I find belly button fluff fascinating. If you know me enough, that wasn’t a joke. I do find them fascinating. Ah but at least it taught me that 8:30am classes on a Monday is horrible idea. It also taught me that to extract the full usage of my $28 dollar textbook, it is probably best to buy it at the start of the term instead of three weeks before the final exam. I could have done better. When a quarter of my answer is decided by the almighty powers of Eeny-Meeny-Miny-Mo, I know I probably flunked the exam. Facing the insurmountable task of tackling two exams the next day back-to-back, I hit a new low. It was a Friday and the school is bereft of mangy unwashed students. The few I bumped into were happily smiling away. Did you know that post-exams smoo kids bounce when they walk? They’re inches away from skipping gaily through campus green.
Exams have ended! I wrote a foot-long entry so I’ve decided to break it into bits. Now available in chronological order!
My first exam, one of my favourite classes this term, was ah-oh-kay aside from the fact that I arrived at the examination room a full 30 minutes after it was due to start. The rain.. hoo never underestimate its cruelty. But the prof was awfully understanding and gave us (yess not just me!) extra time to finish our two essays. After that, Nisa and I disappeared for some loving for coconutty rice and slabs of prata. I came home, collapsed on my bed and slept till 4. I made my way to school again, mainly to order a super fudgy cake for a certain birthday girl. I studied for a while in school. I ended up talking to Suffyan and Chuan Yang about the ideal highlighter colour for memory retention and the state of our school’s “press”. Productive I’d say.
Oh as I was making my way home, I met this creeeeeepy dude in the shadows by the MRT fountains. He was hiding amongst the trees. I had my music plugged into my ears and so I only recognized that there was a HUMAN in there when he looked at me and made gestures to his mouth. What the hey? He looked like he was around his late 30s, dressed in a blue short sleeve shirt that covered a bulging stomach. He said that he was hungry, that he has no money. I WAS FREAKED OUT. I moved away and into the light. There was a ten and a two dollar bill in my wallet. I took out the two dollar bill and gave it to him. I have no idea why I did it other than paying for good karma for my trip home. He was pitiful. I’d hate to know what it is like to be in his position. His clothes look well pressed which somehow made the situation worse. I hoped he won’t be hanging around so I crept around the Infosys building to watch him leave. I walked the longest way and took the MRT home.
On to the next part!
Let me tell you what happens in this country when it rains in the morning. Traffic slows to a screeching halt. Alright to be fair, traffic never stops here. Buses travel at the amazing speed of an elderly on zimmerframes. I realise that reference will be lost in translation here. To put it simply: IT IS FRICKING SLOW.
It makes sense, I know. I am not stupid. I realise that on well-maintained tarmac here it probably feels like slippery fake leather armchairs when it gets the usual torrential rain. It’s not so difficult to see why a two-tonne hunk of metal could easily careen down the road like a bobsled, crushing man, children and woman in sight. That wouldn’t be pretty at all.
Still, must you rain this morning of all mornings when I have my first exam of the term? Must you be so evil, rain? I thought we had a good understanding together. You rain ONLY IN THE AFTERNOON and let Mr. Sunshine have his way IN THE MORNING. We’ll make arrangements for the rest of the week hokay? I still have three exams to go. I’ll have my people call your people.
The best time to eat dairy products is in the morning, except ice cream. This frozen bovine juice can be consumed at noon, in the evening and sometimes very late at night. It is usually eaten as dessert, as salve for thirst or as comfort. Sometimes, it is offered as a ruse for the conversation that comes with it.
Suddenly, it has become a part of my staple diet for supper. I may have developed a strange insatiable need for ice cream at odd hours of the day or maybe just the company that comes with it. But I already know the answer to that. That question isn’t for me.
It would be good to let me know before I begin to wonder if I’m developing a diabetic problem. If it is just butterfat and hazelnuts, that’s fine. I can cope with “just ice cream”, remember? If it isn’t, well what are you going to do now?
Facebook Compare People has ranked me as the #96th most studious person in my network. #96th!
wahahahahahahahahaa.
In high school, someone had decided that I was important enough to have my picture plastered on the notice board. This was done for someone’s Civics class I believe, an inane project seeking to recognize some people from the student body. There, amidst pictures of self-proclaimed cheerleaders (they were largely a bunch of girls in netball skirts) and basketball players was my picture. Someone picked me. They took a photograph from CISmopolitan, stretched it to inhumane proportions and took the liberty of writing my own biography. It had two lines, short and simple. It says that I have “done lots of things” and that my one and only hobby was: “Studying”.
That was funny. I’m the kind of girl who studies the night before every single one of her exams. I still do it. But was that all they really knew me for? I had other hobbies, like making under-priced jewelery, sleeping, crating up my plans to fix the world and pretending I am a Nigerian UN delegate. Granted they did email me earlier but when I asked what it was for they never replied back.
But #96th? Now now play nice…
Look we’re on the ray-dee-oh! Well, podcast rather. Close enough I should think.
Radio Singapore International covered Gaya 2008: Gajah Mada! I think they did air this at some point in March. You can listen to me sing at the beginning, if a bit muffled. If you’re wondering what language she is speaking, that is radio-worthy Bahasa Indonesia. (=
I can’t continue pretending to choose
These opposite sides on which we fall
The loving you laters, if at all
No right minds could wrong be this many times
Sara Bareilles - Between the Lines
Bareilles is better than a one hit wonder.
This is a radio prophet post. It all started here:
 | elloelle on This Is How We Roll. |
| elloelle on My Little Life. |
 | sylv on I Just Hope There Is a Yo… |
| sylv on My Little Life. |
| elloelle on Gutterflower. |
