Artist:	Oasis
Album:	(What's The Story) Morning Glory
Title:	Wonderwall

Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you shoulda somehow realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now
Back beat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is
out
I'm sure you've heard it all before but you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how
Because maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall


Today was gonna be the day but they'll never throw it back to you
By now you shoulda somehow realized what you're not to do
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now
And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how


I said maybe



You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall

mine and will always be.

I CAN SURVIVE ON MY OWN

entirely with the latest re-runs of Hong Kong TVB Drama

Series / Affectionate soap operas

unlike the American slippery slide of 'Days of Our Lifes'

or yada. Add in a bottle of rootbeer or chinese tea and

a mega duper gongompus bag of cheezels and

i can be content.

FREEDOM ROCKS



On a side note:

De-humanizing oneself 101
Step 1) Give yourself a name, such as Angela or the name given in ur bc/ic
Step 2) Wear clothes
Step 3) Watch more mtv a day than speaking to your mother
Step 101) Bang your head to the nearest wall until there is an inconsistency between 'A' for 'Apple'
'B' for 'Boy'

I was sorting my photos from the handphone today. The handphone is so flooded with pictures that i could not get some pictures from one of my crazy friends. I was appalled by the gravitude of the immense presence of irrationality seen in most pictures! And i Love it! Omg look at these crazy friends that i have as prove and evidence that my random nature does not seem to be a personal issue but it may actually be a collective thing among the people i hang out with/. and the funny shots tht we took gives me memories nonetheless, every picture has its own set of stories and it was an utter delight to reminise over.
I call out to my friends and thank them for these classic pictures that will be stored for more chances to be exploited of. Some nice shots are also placed here, partly to demonstrate on the fun and happy times. hurrah to their incredulous insanity & gung ho-ism.

-
-
I so want to do something to the blog but i dont know what yet. Prof H says blogging is shallow and i will critically as critically my attention span can provide me with delve into the shallowness of the act of choosing to blog into a space that is not only free but is free for all to see.
How is shallowness defined. Oxfod English Dictionary defines shallowness as:

"Want of depth of character, thought, knowledge, etc.; superficiality. " (OED)

It seems that there is a sense of superficiality reflected towards the act of blogging online. For me i just feel that blogging is a sense of outlet to release our narcissistic self into a page all for ourselves, and indiscriminately a one-sided account of things or feelings in our lives.

And i adore that thought and that power.
The power to control and be the only gatekeeper of your life.
To say things that matter to you without care.
I couldn't care less what the readers of my blog would think about my entries.
Any comments would just be considered as constructive criticism.

Is it superficial to be having a blog then?
To make such an assumption would be to upset the entire idea of individual differences.
We are all different and the content people choose to blog are different. There is no wrong with blogging about your life via pictorial mediums. I love people who put pictures in their blog, the pictures add more colours to the page and it is easily comprehensible as compared to words words big small minute descriptive lyrical.
And i would love to have constructively critical thoughts of the pictures i see. Make me happy by boggling my mind.

Its not superficial to be talking about things that make you happy too right. What is superficiality anyway. IF we were not to enjoy these surface level things then what are we here for?
Politics? Would discussing politics make us anymore in depth? Do you truly think that life is never a surface level of being? All these material pursuits, are all surface forms of our wants.

Get this. LIFE IS ALL about the surface level of pursuit. You want to score well in school, you want to lead a fufilling life by achieving all that you want to strive for. You want to tour the world like there's no tomorrow. Even the idea of tomorrow itself materializes like there is not stopping it as there will be a tomorrow in everyday; until you dematerialize, perhaps die or become a vegetable.

Blogs are just conveniently put up spaces for such tendencies of man to be displayed outrightly.
Because they are so outrightly revealed, and the narcissism of man is so outrightly and compellingly splattered in black font that it becomes regarded as superficial. Come again?




If you still feel that politics and human rights or gender rights are the way to go, then there is really no hope in you.

My relational self tells you one-sidedly.

a deepened facade

don't ever mess with forever

-
-
Do you believe in Darwin's theory of evolution?
why not
but why call it a theory
we have no answer.

Spirits are either very busy or they're really boring (erm) "people"
If they're really around it'll be cool.
Send them to war, since they're already dead.
Tell them secrets, dead pple can't talk.

Darwin was a devoted papist, so why did he declare this theory
Betray his god than betray his worldly(earthly) ambitions.
Thanks for changing our lifes.
God sure would be pissed.
But he was certainly not struck by lightning.
So what happened to him?
Maybe he went to hell.

The living sure makes a hell of an imaginary fuss.

-
oh.
appease the tortured soul
that lays unequivalent and placid.
deranged by the mere touch
it quivers and expuls with a shiver permeating its senses
soft, sensual, satisfying
over again on and on
the insatiable want, the need, a pivotal exploit

power
blood coursing, roaring beating

the slightest caress
a reckless rage permeating every veine
brutal, encompassing, conquering
splattering stains of victory,
a spilling of the intense,
unwanted.
intrusion.



a bastard defaced by a softer side
the lacklustre of it all.
oh.

-



My 1st Film SLR Camera










After tons of contemplating and decision making i have finally chosen to get a film camera rather than a digital one. For reasons that are withheld, i decided to start from the basics and learn from scratch on photography. Everyone loves beautiful pictures, everyone loves to be able to take beautiful pictures, well even more people would love to look beautiful in pictures. Beauty and creating beauty is not enough. To me beauty's sure a big bore, i actually do love whatever that you hate. Wrinkles, pigmented skin and bodily imperfections are what i would love to capture, these and so much more.

To capture an image is an attempt to eternalise the moment. I want to eternalise the beauty of every little small thing that is irrelevant and minute. Every moment is precious, every moment of life itself is to be cherished, we do not know what will become of us when our time has come, we do not know the true purpose of the lifes we strive so hard to live for. If life itself has to end so tragically where all the past deeds of a hero leads to only reminising and nostalgic recollections, at least when i'm old and weary i can be able to look back at the histories of my past. Though i know that the pictures that i take will just be burnt together with my dead body leaving charred marks that bears no pain nor sorrow to my heart-the heart that has stopped its beat.


Let me live in the moment i want to eternalise a little longer, though nothing lasts forever.

-
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this is not intentional, for me to close off my blog to everything, everyone. then reopen it exactly 2 mths after i turn 200.

its just a refreshing form of relief. a blog's intimate, but not physical, lateral for me. Its just ideas and thoughts flowing ever so fluidly.

nothing has changed, so nobody's missing out on anything ;)

ah, pictures i have of many celebrations and occurances that concurrently and occur in a sequential series of events just occur, i am sincerely happy for them.





A deep mourning to the disastors that occured to myanmar and china. The sorrow penetrates my bones and goes deep rooted into my heart, rendering me speechless to the sheer sense of loss and the little glimmer of hope. How can we just continue to live life when something so devastating occurs to others cast in the likeness of ourselves, others that share the similar bodily functions and feelings? This is not a declaration, nor is it a revelation of my musings, it is a true question that is in my mind.

If there is a god, dear god please help us, help them.
The courage to live on when you are left all alone, the smattering of dreams and hope. The idea of fragility of life. Life threads on such a fine line. A thin thin line that breaks even at the slightest touch. Just like a string of web cast by a spider. How humans stay positive in order to stay sane. Religion itself is a positive idea, a form of thinking that is healthier and more dependable.


I'm starting to be optimistic again, i guess its the way of living.

If i could mourn for the countless deceased victims in silence, i would not mind sacrificing my ability to speak just for them. Let me be mute for as long as there is penance and relief to recover the loss that does not seem to be ever retrievable.

dudes check out this You tube post.

Are Americans Stupid? You'll have to see for yourselves. Thank the education that we've got, cos i could answer most of the questions. How about u?

They faked the placement of names of the countries in the map. Take a closer look. And them Americans fell for it. Its funny but poses major questions at the same time! Here's for u to think!

p.s how many sides does a Triangle have? Four?!
Dang!.
U preschool or something!?
sweet.

I look towards my reflection
But i do not see me.
Trees and roads flash by
like a mirage exacting its play.
I pass by a deck/field of tombstones
residing directly next to the living.
The dead and the living coinciding
Harmoniously.
A chair is empty
I take my seat
& shut off the scene/display i gave myself upon.


Blue skies foggy and a mixture of mist.

BLEAK BLEAK HOUSE


why
you torture us so


fat fat book
i could choke on u now


read the easy font
built into microscopic volumes


laugh at the displeasure
just like a baby
drinking condensed milk.

Home is the normal - whatever place you happen to start

from, and can return to without having to answer questions.

It's a metaphor that may seem to fit reduced expectations.

We no longer seek towers that would reach the heavens;

we've abandoned attempts to prove that we live in a chain of

being whose every link bears witness to the glory of God.

We merely seek assurance that we find ourselves

in a place where we know our way about.




SUSAN NEIMAN,

EVIL IN MODERN THOUGHT

ESTRAGON:
The best thing would be to kill me, like the other.
VLADIMIR:
What other? (Pause.) What other?
ESTRAGON:
Like billions of others.
VLADIMIR:
(sententious). To every man his little cross. (He sighs.) Till he dies. (Afterthought.)
And is forgotten.
ESTRAGON:
In the meantime let us try and converse calmly, since we are incapable of keeping
silent.
VLADIMIR:
You're right, we're inexhaustible.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't think.
VLADIMIR:
We have that excuse.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't hear.
VLADIMIR:
We have our reasons.
ESTRAGON:
All the dead voices.
VLADIMIR:
They make a noise like wings.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
VLADIMIR:
Like sand.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
They all speak at once.
ESTRAGON:
Each one to itself.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Rather they whisper.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
VLADIMIR:
They murmur.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
What do they say?
ESTRAGON:
They talk about their lives.
VLADIMIR:
To have lived is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
They have to talk about it.
VLADIMIR:
To be dead is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
It is not sufficient.
Silence.