for timekeeping purposes

24th June 05
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last minute outing to NYP auditorium. NYP wind orchestra + NTU symphonic band combined concert. Danceries is such a wonderful piece. i simply love it. every movement is nice. usually i only like little bits here and there. the rest of the pieces leave no impression on me. and NYP auditorium has lousy acoustics which made everything sound so blurred over.

25th June 05
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after another long wait, Swan Lake by Royal Ballet. first time i've gone for ballet. not like i can understand anything properly, but it's just breathtakingly pretty. pretty sets, pretty drapes, pretty backdrop, pretty costumes, pretty people. pretty harp. im always amused by orchestra pits, and how big the space is. ah swan lake. wonder what's up next year.

26th June 05
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jx performs with philharmonic winds. Danceries again, not that i mind. i still love it. and now it sounds sharp and clear, wonderful. Gloriosa is always nice too, flute + tbone + singing, yay. rather nice everything.
and supper with old band friends. more than i expected. two juniors got left out though.

3 performances in a row. the more the merrier. especially nice ones. ah swan lake... and i havent heard the organ yet, after so many years.

disquietude, distress, misery, malaise, ordeal, sorrow, torment, vexation, worriment, wretchedness, melancholy, and dolor.

anguish

yay orchid plant has finally started to flower. after how many months, so pathetic right. it got splattered by paint recently too, when it was outside the house in the corridor.

ok 2nd blood donation done. happy to get a TY beanie dog from them. so nice. connor and jx got identical ones too. haha. they din give this the last time, hm. hope they give more in the future!



bbc link
erm. some UK fertility experts found that soya in women leads to this compound called geinstein to sabotage the sperm to prematurely start a reaction that leads to fertilisation. ah well. "genistein seems to trigger the production of a signalling molecule in sperm called cyclic AMP" ahem.

bbc link
another US U-2 spy plane crashes. this time in SouthWEST Asia. country not revealed. supposedly middle east country. U-2 spy planes are really at the end of their work life, they keep crashing. but they're such cool planes. i wonder what new spy planes they have though.

realised that one of the two straps on my goggles were broke. it's been so long since i last swam that i forgot about it. nvm, it held fine.

then the little thing on my watch broke. ya know, the retaining thing that is the most common casualty. maybe the hydrochloric acid and hypochloric acid in the water destroyed it. whatever.

and i woke up today and discovered my exam shift was supposed to be in the morning instead of the afternoon. so it was a horrible disaster. i cant believe i made such a mistake. anyway if it's morning i have to get out of the house by 7.20. so no hope. still cant get over it. what an unimaginable mistake. but they were okay, had two people on roster for 7 students taking exam. what the heck. maybe 2 for backup.

and i couldn't sleep last night, and i wrote a lot, and i felt like putting it here, but decided against it. so there.

going for blood donation this coming week. anyone wants to come along just tell me. prob tues or wed.

"believe me i can fly"

a line out of a chinese song. a probably silly useless chinese pop song.

you know how it feels to me? it feels like someone singing it, through tears. and you've got to feel the optimism, the cynicism, the dejection, the desperation, the disillusionment, the reality, the intense hope, the hope that is so desperate in it's futility.

what if someone comes up to you, crying, and says "believe me i can fly". what will you say in reply?

a little rain, a little fog. clustering round the glassy white buidings lining the street. two steps away the cars streak by, racing down the wide span of the road: the traffic light looks beatable. with murmurs the crowd surges past, oblivious of the traffic. just like the vehicles care not for the pedestrians. a couple of stumbles, a raised voice, an umbrella opens. the light changes and the crowd surges forward again. splashing messily over the sidewalk. hurriedly scampering from one shelter to the other.

the light changes, and they disappear again. the blur of colour has morphed into another shade. it gets hard to keep track of where that particular crowd is going. the raindrops continue plummeting downwards, and it gets harder to see clearly anymore

two odd objects in today's exam.
Management course, paper: Strategic Development and Initiatives.
population: 'old' people, who bring laptop bags, briefcases, backpacks, handbags.

1. this man, plastic ruler. you know which kind of ruler? big broad plastic, transparent, one end circular, middle riddled with holes for drawing circles, squares, whatever shapes. and it's not those scientific looking ones. it's the kiddish looking one. it's almost impossible to describe, but you've definitely seen it before, in primary school. it's really a pri sch object. i dunno why he's still using it.

2. different man. set of coloured pens. multi coloured. dont know why he needs them in this essay writing exam. and it's not an artist set, or girly set, or neutral set. it's a kiddish design too. even sec sch girls won't be carrying that thing. another pri sch thing. i have no idea what's wrong with these people.

anyway i was damn bored today. no inspiration to write.

perhaps this might be the "proper" place to deposit my thoughts.

Words have appeared, of late. Words. Words, and the beauty in them. and the swift rolling of the tongue and the hurried scribbling of the pen. can you hear in these Words, their soul, and the magic. emotive memories from the years long ago. and the sporadic Words in between.

a gentle smile at their coming. i can feel it back again. as someone might say: "um chio".

if the life of one would change in a song
and hasten with a tune,
who knows what the thoughts i write
could err in happenstance.
perchance it falls on the listening ear
to tumble through the heart,
the song that is sung might beckon
a counter to the melody.

disclaimer: the following is a piece of descriptive writing on an anonymous person, who was unaware. and you really dont have to read it if you're not interested. it was, after all, one A4 page of written words.

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In the examination room a girl. number 8 on the list. Drug Discovery, the two hour exam progresses. She does not open the paper. There are 15 mins for them to read through the questions before the actual start. But she doesn't seem too eager. She came in later: she wanted to study more, do some last minute revision. I write, just like they do. She seems small, and young. too young. 1985, I find out later. Only a year younger than me. But seeming 4 or 5 years younger. A small rounded face, soft, like a girl still growing up. A young girl. No she is not my type. But my eyes are set on her for her pecularity, and contradiction. Half messy hair, tied back, high up, falling forwards. Nevertheless a medium-length fringe shields her eyes. She bends over the table, thin, slender arms. A long sleeved blouse, wide-necked, a flaky blue beige mickey mouse emblossomed on the front. A wooden bead necklace hangs from her neck, six-edged wooden star pendant dangling. Two broad zebra-striped loops run over each side of her shoulder, platicky looking, disappearing under her blouse. Twin baby-blue loops hang from her earlobes. A bright yellow watch, big broad plastic band which was the rage, chunky on the left hand. On the right wrist, one black and one white rubber bands intertwined. Probably from 77th Street, I wonder what words, life and death? She writes slowly, unsure. And pauses to think. So young, so like a street girl in appearance. What is she doing here, I wonder. So out of place, so many accessories. Not flashy, but silently accessorised. A compromise between studies and parties. Stop reading, write more, she writes too little. An earnest expression on her face, a gentle struggle. There is more to her life than the formal world of lines and words. Perhaps a little like jingz. She holds up a Shaker. the veritable mechanical pencil, The One, The Shaker. So recognisable, yet so old. She does a little twirling on her lower fingers, ah, definitely a student. But the twirling is not swift. Then again, it is a big clumsy shaker. and it is an exam, the less twirling the better. So colorful, so full of life. STill the child, and the student, and the young girl on the streets. Just like after this, she'll just smile and shrug it off, and disappear into the crowd in the malls. A pair of jeans, slightly washed out. A white studded belt, broad.

Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy

not as bad as feared. not spectacular. the song.

three jokers lay in a pack of cards
    a rabbit in an egg
a pixie grasping an acorn on a stick
    hacking the shell to bits
two long ears stick out of the jagged hole
    a gasp of surprise to be heard
fourth a guarantee against defects in the pack
    may be used as an extra joker too

你爱咖啡，低调的感觉，偏爱收集的音乐，怪得很另类 。
你很特别，每一个小细节，唉呀呀呀，如此的对味
我怕浪费，情绪的错觉，讨厌自己像刺猥，小心的防备。
我很反对，为失恋掉眼泪，唉呀呀呀，离你远一些。
喜欢看你紧紧皱眉，叫我胆小鬼，你的表情大过於，朋友的暧昧。
寂寞的称谓，甜蜜的责备，有独一无二，专属的特别。
喜欢看你紧紧皱眉，叫我胆小鬼，我的心情就像和，情人在斗嘴。
奇怪的直觉，错误的定位，对你唉呀呀呀，我有点胆怯。
我在我的世界，不能犯规。你在你的世界，笑我无所谓。

ah, now i have sth to blog abt. juz realised that the bottom bit of my blog-code got truncated. by whatever enzyme. no wonder some buttons seemed to be missing. patched it up with my backup code. ok done.

oh matthew says i nvr update my blog. im still alive. my deadmantrigger not activated yet. dunno dont ask. and, yar, nothing to blog. bb.