talking of Michaelangelo.
Monday, April 28, 2008
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book me! // 9:59 am
Honestly, I meant to blog a real post. In fact, I have one coming right at you soon. But I need to let people know when they can book me.
So from
Monday to Friday I'm pretty much
open after 5pm to before 10pm. Which is after placement each day. (
Aside: I got an excellent Grade 1 class placement at Finch Public School, but more on that later.)
I'm free to do anything over the weekends, as long as I get a ride...hopefully? If it's close to my place I can drive, if my parents let me have the car. So here's how it goes (they're split into weeks and then weekends):
Apr 28 -
Apr 29 -
Apr 30 -
May 1 -
May 2 -
May 3 - BOOKED: Rubber Crowd (All Day!)
May 4 - (?)BOOKED: Poon, Karaoke?
May 5 -
May 6 -
May 7 -
May 8 -
May 9 - (?)BOOKED: KBBQ w/F4
May 10 -
May 11 -
May 12 -
May 13 -
May 14 -
May 15 -
May 16 -
May 17 -
May 18 - Poon's Birthday!
May 19 - FREE ALL DAY VICTORIA DAY!
May 20 -
May 21 -
May 22 - (?)BOOKED: Beauty&Beast w/MikeLi
May 23 -
FLYING TO HK!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
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summer lists // 1:43 pm
Here it comes again.
The lists that I never accomplish.
The Books:Never Let Me Go
Kite Runner
Complicated Kindness
Adverbs
Let's Talk about Kevin
The death and life of Charlie St. Cloud
The Three Incestuous Sisters
The Adventuress
The Confessions of Max Tivoli
A Shortcut in Time
Japan Travel Books
The Movies:Other Boelyn GirlPenelopeForbidden KingdomCJ721Baby MamaMiss Pettigrew Lives for a DayForgetting Sarah MarshallOver Her Dead BodyKite RunnerPrince CaspianJumperDefinitely Maybe
Monday, April 21, 2008
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there is hope, still. // 1:56 pm
Sometimes I just want to walk and walk and walk... and walk off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. But, sorry. The world is round and too bad I'm tied down by gravity.Summer 2008
Destination: Nagoya, Japan
I will conquer you, rejection.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
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Shakespearean Insights // 9:00 pm
I have been complaining a lot about how much I hate the pervert-minded Shakespeare, but after reading
Winter's Tale I've finally found something to commend him for.
According the young child, Mamillius
"indeed, winter is the best time for a sad story...but...the best winter's tale will not end in sadness but with the promise of spring."Shall we all learn to see the light at the end of the tunnel?
Perhaps, after these exams...there will be promise of spring for me. It's beautiful outside, maybe I'll learn to embrace it when my stress is all gone.
Friday, April 04, 2008
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it's late // 2:42 pm
I am once again reminded of my inferiority to myself.
How I succumb to those feelings of humiliation and bitter moments.
How it draws me in and makes me feel so stupid and so far away.
So far away.
But I don't care. I don't want to see you anymore, it hurts me too much
to watch you turn away from me.
Apathetic and cold.
-
big bang theory // 11:45 am
Sheldon: He's engaging in reductio ad absurdum.
Penny: WHAT?!
Sheldon: It's the logical fallacy of extending someone's argument to ridiculous proportions and then criticizing them as a result. I do NOT appreciate it!
......
Sheldon: Wrong.
Penny: *rolls eyes* I'm listening.
Sheldon: Your head goes on the other end.
Penny: Why.
Sheldon: It's culturally universal. A bed, even a temporary bed, is always oriented with the headboard away from the door. It serves the ancient imperative of protecting oneself against marauders.
Penny: I'll risk it. Anything else I should know?
Sheldon: If you use my toothbrush I'll jump out that window. Please don't come to my funeral.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
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my very own wasteland // 5:08 am
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, coveringEarth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers.It's tradition that I post this. I look forward to every April because that is when I can truly think about revival. And this poem is so heavily loaded with emotion and sentiment. I cannot bring myself to forget the poignant masterpiece of words, put together here with the most suggestive enjambment. It brings tingles to my heart.
It's so raw and so like T.S. Eliot. April in many ways is not often the cruelest month. April is often this time of transition, of awkwardness and change. It's moving forward yet drawing back at the same time because you're going to look forward to summer, yet you have to remember everything you've learned and accumulated during the year. But you know, this April seems to be one of the cruelest of them all. There's something jumpy in my heart for spring, with my (short) hair blowing in the wind. Yet, I know that there's something stirring in me.
I want my beautiful lilacs to bloom. My heart is like that dead land right now. The dull roots in me are being stirred.
You know, my friends. There's something about memory. When I think about the word "memory" I feel tears rise to my eyes. So little yet so much so much happened. There are so many moments which feels lost in that intangible thing called time. I feel as though my direction became so lost during the middle part of this year. Memory and desire. My 2nd year of university seems to be packed with anonymous little boxes of subsciousness.
Things in me I never realized about myself, that maybe I didn't want to have found in the first place. I have boxes and boxes of memory and desire inside me.
So sometimes I wonder, what is stirring, those dull roots or would it be all those memories, desires coming back to me.
How have I become forgetful, living in a state of deadness. Why has my heart moved away from my mind. It's almost like I need to learn how to feed myself again. Like starting over. With endings only come beginnings. And maybe I need that just to see where my heart and my mind can entwine once again.
My winter did indeed keep me warm...away from the things that I did not want to own up to. Things that I had kept myself in the dark about. It's as if I've lived in this strange place where my existence is marked by illusions, impossible to draw back in my memory.
"
We are such stuff...As dreams are made on..." Prospero in
The Tempest. And that's exactly how I feel right now, I don't think you can put that into better words.
Memory and desire, how can those two ever be forced apart.
How can they ever be separate.
Memory and desire.
Memory and desire.
