The cover of my new History notebook. (: Reminds me of my first French movie, Le Papillon, which is a really beautiful film which did not need any special effects to make it a memorable movie. :D
From Le Papillon,
"When love demands proof, it means there's no trust. And where there's no trust, there's no love." -Julien
Elsa: "Why are there rich and poor?" Julien: "Because 'liberty, equality, fraternity' sounds nice but it doesn't work too well."
"When I was little, even littler than now, I had a dream. It was with a canary, you know, those little yellow birds. I took it out of its cage, brought it to my window, and opened my hand. And you know what? It didn't fly away. It stayed with me. I was glad. You know why? If it preferred to stay with me, it must be because it loved me." - Elsa
Elsa (looking at the scenery): "It's beautiful. Just like a calendar." Julien: "Calendar? It's better than a calendar."
"The other day, the teacher talked about Napoleon. She said he ran down the Austrians at Marengo. Maxime raised his hand. Know what he asked? What kind ofcar he drove." -Elsa
"This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong.
This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood.
This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word.
This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced.
This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed.
This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt.
This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.
This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with.
This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone.
This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup.
This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you.
I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.
This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep.
This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.
This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted.
This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made.
Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging.
Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth?
And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere.
But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing.
We might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances.
You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend -- but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express.
Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.
So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)"
LOL. Got from Esther's blog, and I don't know where she got this from (edit: found the source.) xD The last paragraph makes me grin. (: Anyway I seriously am perfectly okay now. But this amused me x) It reminds me of the times my most adorable friends sat by me. I suppose friends are the best remedy in such a situation after all . :D
Maybe like Hachi, I took my time. But I'm happy to do so. (: Everything about Hachi is reminding me of myself.
HERO - Mr.Children (How can you not love Mr.Children's songs?)
What hurts the most Was being so close And having so much to say And watching you walk away And never knowing What could have been And not seeing that loving you Is what I was trying to do
From Esther's blog. Wow. Sometimes I think if she's lovesick. But, really, you couldn't tell. After all it was a blog. The beautiful things she puts in her blog are just like little moments of escape from where we are every day.
I sat and stoned. And in my confusion, while I watched my mum fall asleep waiting for her boss to call her, I let tears roll down. It seems like I just lost my direction. I don't know what I'm mugging for. I have no idea what I'm doing.
And unfortunately, the Singaporean answer is seeping into me -- exams.
I wonder if the education system has robbed me of a future I could call happy. A future where I can still wander in a field full of sunflowers. It sounds pretty childish, but after years and years of education, I begin to realise, society terms a happy and bright future as you walking among a field of thousand-dollar notes. You couldn't survive just being happy.
You're mugging a-third of your life away destroying a pretty future. :( Maybe we all define happiness differently.
When people ask me about my future, I don't know what to say, and immediately, my smile disappears and along with it I myself want to disappear. I KNOW I am so sheltered that if I take merely a step outside, I'm as good as dead. I'm those kind of person who mugs merely to keep up with others' expectations of me. MUGGING is probably the only thing I can do. When the mugging is over and done with, I'm as good as useless.
I don't remember how it feels like to dream of being a florist or a novelist. Because right now, I don't know what I'm dreaming of.
Dedicated to my friends out there who have walked with me through nearly two years of JC life. :D There are a lot of people I want to thank but whose photos are not inside though. x(
(Can you believe that was the first time I touched Windows Media Movie Maker? LOL I didn't know it was pretty fun and much better than the previous one which produced files of very large sizes >< Because I did it late last night, halfway through editing, I didn't really care about the timing of the song with the speed of photos anymore.)
There is someone I miss so much. So much that I am afraid to see that person. And I might never get a chance anymore when time slips pass. (And it's definitely nothim.) Staying up late at night does things to you. It's 2a.m. in the morning and I have not done my intended studying, when the realization of how time flies on wings faster than a bullet train hit me. And I don't know what to do. (As always.) And as usual, I have not learnt how to cherish the things/people around me until I realise they are gone, and by then it is too late.
I got tagged. Tagged by - *tries to stare hard at Tammy (nobuta twin!).*
What were you doing in secondary school? 1. Staying back after school for Art Club. 2. Having fun with Lit :D 3. ...studying. (I was such a nerd.)
Five of your favourite singers / bands? 1. KinKi Kids (do I list Tsuyo-chan here too??) 2. SMAP 3. NEWS 4. Josh Groban 5. Sarah McLachlan FIVE isn't enough.
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire? 1. Tour JAPAN. 2. Get a superb digital camera 3. Gandalf's staff ! xDDD 4. New Zealand. 5. Actually most of all, I want to get my dad a fantastic hi-fi set that he's dreaming of. (:
Five bad habits? 1. I peel my nails ^^;; 2. Bad temper. 3. Overly sentimental 4. Irrational Shopper. 5. Paranoia.
Five things you like doing? 1. PHOTOGRAPHY :DDDDD 2. drawing ! 3. writing :D 4. long bus rides with an ipod (: 5. listening to soundtracks.
Five things you would never buy, wear or get? 1. piercings all over the body 2. tube tops and short tight skirts x( 3. ...what else. birdnest. 4. cigarettes 5. diamonds. (is that weird? i don't think i suit elegant stuff )
Five favourites? <-- so ambiguous! 1. WHITE しろ! 2. PEANUTS (Linus Van Pelt ) 3. Lord of the Rings 4. Johnny's Entertainment :D 5. Domoto Tsuyoshi
Five people to do this? 1. Sky 2. Manfa 3. Vanessa 4. Olivia 5. Yana
Is this one too many updates? I finished this right before the thunderstorm just now. Again inspired by Mr.Children. (: Second one of 34°C Winter series :P (The first one was 'Dakishimetai'. (: ) I love my 4B pencil and my new sketchbook. I think I need a new rubber soon. I want more pencils ! You are reading a stationery freak's blog.
...and my mum says it's all my fault I eat so many tidbits. And I eat so much less than the others. I eat dinner at 10 plus And it makes me fat But she still insists it's my fault that she cooks at 9. What is that.
You wish time could stop at the point where Everything was perfect. But if you stay behind, time moves on, so will they all. You have driven the gap wider Wider WIDER Too wide to catch up with the others. There's a point Where we all unwind the clock And fall. The words don't connect And reactions get too violently emotional. We are all familiar with regrets (are they actually avoidable?) The clocks can stop moving. But still Time moves on anyway.
I drew Misora Aoi from the N's Aoi dorama ! I feel like I hven't drawn in a long time. This was drawn quite some time ago but I was too lazy to put it up earlier. ...I haven't even finished watching the drama.
It makes me miss Vicky nee-chan.
Watch this haha. Tsuyo-chan ATTEMPTS to do a backflip in the snow x) I miss watching Shoujiki Shindoi! I haven't been watching for months. :(
And him being tricked by Koichi. x) I think Koichi was the funny one instead xD
...Then you question yourself, was that バカ really the one who sang this song
It's amusing how people fight to be the worser, When all we want to do Is get out of that worser state. But we fight anyway.
And the whole world knows everyone's a fool. But what can we do?
I used to want to look into those eyes Now I am ashamed to do so. There's something too painful Far far far down in that well And I can't shut my eyes And just forget.
See you in my dream; be on time.
I wish you could tell me How much longer I could hold on When every night I am engulfed in solitude So afraid to close my eyes and sleep Because those eyes appear again Like a stalker Who never meant to be one.
Bruised and battered by your words Dazed and shattered, now it hurts;
Please don't go crazy, if I tell you the truth No you don't know what happened And you never will if You don't listen to me while I talk to the wall This blanket is freezing, it's been out in the hall Where you've had me for hours Till I'm sure what I want But darling I want the same thing that I wanted before So sweetheart tell me what's up I won't stop no way
Please keep your hands down And stop raising your voice It's hardly what I'd be doing if you gave me a choice It's a simple suggestion can you give me sometime So just say yes or no Why can't you shoulder the blame Coz both my shoulders are heavy From the weight of us both You're a big boy now so let's not talk about growth You've not heard a single word I have said... Oh, my God
Please take it easy it can't all be my fault I haven't made half the mistakes That you've listed so far Oh baby let me explain something It's all down to drugs At least I remember taking the and not a lot else It seems I've stepped over lines You've drawn again and again But if the ecstacy's in the wit is definitely out Dr. Jekyll is wrestling Hyde for my pride
-HOW TO BE DEAD by Snow Patrol. -photo by Sylvia. & courtesy of Esther as my model. x)
Much more tired out than before. It's not like I don't get enough sleep. It's more than the panda rings. I feel... Helpless. And want to cry But the tears won't come down And when they do... I'm embarrassed to acknowledge them And I don't want to.
I saw you at the crazy crossing We stopped for a moment while the umbrellas whizzed past US, And I looked up at You. I wondered why you smiled. So sad but so warm. We walked on.
I've seen countless umbrellas. You were under none of them. Redgreenyellowbluepurplepink and finally polkadots. But we never saw each other again. I knew I was only dreaming. But I kept on dreaming.
And one day I strolled along with nothing but an umbrella in hand I thought I saw your smile again- You took the umbrella from my hand And let it embrace the both of us While it s t o r m e d outside I was content. But In an instant you disappeared again. It was short-lived.
And you will find me at the Arts House looking at The Dolls of Japan... Seeking solace in solitude Trying to forget the feeling, But I'll always remember that umbrella. A single white in a sea of black and red.
And I'll be content to watch from my secret corner And do no more.
(PS: Dolls of Japan display at the Arts House is ending on 9th May. Beautiful. They are so well done, that you feel as though you can feel the dolls' emotions.)
Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled,for God's sake don't be fooled. I give you the impression that I'm secure,that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water's calm and I'm in command and that I need no one, but don't believe me. My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask, ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope, and I know it. That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure meof what I can't assure myself, that I'm really worth something. But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing and that you will see this and reject me. So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying, what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can't say.
I don't like hiding. I don't like playing superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings-- very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings! With your power to touch me into feeling you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator-- of the person that is me if you choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask, you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic, from my lonely prison, if you choose to. Please choose to. Do not pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls and in this lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.
-Charles C. FinnSeptember 1966
PS: I found this on Shuyi's blog. jaw drop. (I dropped my jaw a hundred times today.) It reminds me of me and my pally-wally.
...someone who didn't really know me. I am labelled under lost; but yet it's still so scary -it's not about stuff we gossip about- but I wanted to try and see. See if it was safe to go on But it's still so terrifying. Because I'm afraid of rejection. You shouldn't base on one other's judgement. --Being nice once isn't being nice forever. If one day it ends today . . . Would it hurt?
…darkest shade of eyerings in the morning. …crappiest jokes that make no sense during lessons. …trying to do homework during lunch breaks. …pretending to have a toe injury to wear slippers to school because her shoes have gone all wet in the storm. …instant noodles for lunch. …mixture of ribena, green tea and coffee. …cold dinner every tuesday at 11pm. …has a violent tendency to physically abuse the computer so that she doesn't have to update the website :P …whines a lot. …and I do mean A LOT. …is in love with the Five Foot Way poster. It's awesome. (:
…Is wishing that there's another cup of coffee waiting for her tomorrow.
…is really plunging into violent tendencies if she doesn'thave the time to draw, write, and sew.
Eh I have an obsession with these. Quanmin showed me this. An alternative reading about ISFJ. Click the link below to read more. (: Ultimately there are some things that are not true about me but most of it is.