I was stressed.
The lack of sleep two nights ago, no thanks to a sudden urge to do a search-spree on DeviantArt for Transformers fan-art pictures (and becoming scarred and scared by some of them since I can't draw) had contributed to the nasty mood, but that did not spark it.
It was the adults around me who sparked it.
Snapping at this I like puppy dogs and trying her patience does not bode well with her.
Despite my rather light username and the often frisky and light attitude does
I understand that for some of us, autumn (or fall) has arrived.
I thought that this would be most relevant to the season. It was something a new-found friend in the Writing Club and I had thought of: we'll write the same topic, but we'll read each other's work and try to improve each other's style and errors that way.
I'm going to take it a step further: I want you to help me with that too.
So, without further ado... (and I hope you all can help me. I think an element is missing in the
Lookit what I found a few days ago:
Click here to see. Pardon my bad spriting and screenshot skills
The wonder of a rating. See how much power it wields!
How every vote counts.
How one rating changes the average.
How wonderful it is to be rated a nice rating. A perfect rating in fact.
How disappointing it is to be down-graded.
The Epic Critics Club is enjoying a slower pace to review epics. Thankfully, as critics who loyally keep reviewing on a constant basis have been pulle
Most of the members here have an active role of some society made by the school, or at least supervised by the school or the community, which sounds interesting and fun. I don't mind the Scouts tales, and manga clubs, music clubs (oh, they're the most interesting).
I would not be lying that I am turning a bit green. With envy, not sickness.
I'm in a bit of a limbo right now, considering my co curricular activity to participate in during my time as a polytechnic student.
I had, at first,
The Giving
The Yukta: a race discovered by the explorers of the Twenty-first century, yet its ancestry dating back to the Hundreds. Better known as the Race of Discoloured Eyes due to their diet of raw seal meat (but that is under speculation), they dwell within the Arctic Circle, the land of the Final Frontier where hardly anyone survived, and were believed to be part of the recognised Inuit’s gene pool.
However, the tough race of ice people was slowly dying off, their numbers ebbing awa
To continue the funny business between my sisters and me. (Thanks to BCii who pointed out the grammar errors.)
Well...
When did this madness start?
Ever since I called my elder sister 'jie jie' (as you should know, means elder sister in Chinese. Reminds you of The Letter, eh?) and my little sister called my elder sister and me 'jie' and 'jie jie' respectively. We both took a while to solve this code, and Lil Sis had to blurt it out at our blank faces to get it across.
I don't even know
No, it's no spoof of the Sister's Act.
It's, quite literally, the relationship between my sisters and me.
There were times I wondered how it was like to be a single child, and thinking of it as something better than my current situation.
Now I hardly think of that anymore.
Reason being?
Right now my little sister is 'whining' and screaming, whining as the class realised that she was ticklish and she was ticklish because my twin sister and I are guilty of tickling her every n
Behold the instrument that I play!
Well... it's not THAT model, but something close to it:
I just realised that they don't have images of the real model.
As you can tell by the image, it is the adaptation of the traditional organ. I call it an organ sometimes, but its proper term is still the electone.
To play it, you use your four limbs. It is an instrument of three keyboards and an inbuilt rhythm box, so the drums are handled by the electone. To sum it up, it's a band in a bo
“Oh, that one out of stock. Will come in only next week."
It was not much to ask people to speak proper English.
Ah well. This is, after all, the Little Red Dot. No where in its name did it say it was an English-speaking Red Dot.
And the acoustical music textbook would have to wait.
With a mumbled word of thanks, I left the store.
That was a bummer. Today's classes were only from eight to ten in the morning, and now it was approaching eleven. I had not intended to make the trip
When I was asked about what I liked, I ranted off the usual things people would have said, and also that I liked them too.
Food, Animals, Music, Peace (oh world peace?), Friends... Transformers (That one, people know.)
... Bionicle?
Oh may the crickets chirp.
Well, Bionicle is not exactly popular where I am. I'd hardly term is as one of the legendary fandoms that would entice the child of all ages, but it snagged all of us, didn't it?
I like Bionicle. Love it tons by its character
Location: School.
School with my own laptop so I won't have to worry about teachers (lecturers, if you may) locking down and banning the site.
I'm in a polytechnic. Gone past ten years of the Little Red Dot's education system, and oddly enough I've been termed as a 'college student'. Maybe the system here likens this kind of education institution I've been enrolled into similar to a college in the US, or the UK, or somewhere that's not here.
I'm in Year 1, which should speak for itself
This post is a pioneering one for me: my fiction, published online for the first time.
Now, I cannot guarantee that this will be shown more prominently on this blog. I am *somewhat, maybe more than that* proud of this piece of work.
It was a take I did on that harmful Creative Writing session, and I freshened it up, edited it here and there, and finally handed it to the lecturer.
It would not go to any competition or anything, but it was a creative release. I have not done a short story
The snapping that was going on in my mouth was far from comforting. I didn't like it.
But it had to be done.
I was waiting for more than a year for this day to come.
I'd never thought it'd be this tedious.
The orthodontist patiently worked.
Suddenly, there was a lack of tension in my mouth, tension that I had grown accustomed to for a year.
And a rather putrid stench wafted.
The orthodontist told me that I had to brush my teeth before she could continue.
I closed my
Last Thursday, I bade farewell to my grandaunt, the unfortunate victim of a stroke. I had visited her on the Monday, or Tuesday, of the week she left.
My home country bade farewell, on the same day, to a war heroine who knew me, and I wish I knew her as well as she did to me: Mrs Elizabeth Choy. She was a POW (Prisoner-Of-War) who passed messages and food items to fellow British POWs, and underwent torture for her doings. She's a remarkable woman, and we had such a loss.
Double whammy? Yes,
This is Lucky. Lucky, say "Hi" to all the nice readers!
Lucky had a haircut.
He doesn't look like himself anymore, with all that cropped hair, and I miss running my hands through that semi-coarse fur.
But now it's silky soft.
Besides, Lucky is still Lucky. His antics are forever the same.
He reminded us, recently, of why animals are considered to be dumb, at times.
A few nights ago, Annie the maid was heating up Lucky's everyday dinner of rice and chicken stew. He loves it, a
I was wrong: it actually was harmful.
I felt like passing out after the 'harmless' creative writing workshop, session number two, was done and I reached home.
This time, I was the first to arrive at the designated venue, which was confirmed last night.
Assisting the lecturer-in-charge, Suan, to organise the place a bit, I mentioned to her that I had an idea of a short story and it was brooding in my head for a week, and I had planned to get it down today in the workshop.
She stoppe
This is strange.
Everyone's talking about it. If they were not talking about it, they talked about it recently.
This is strange.
I felt no different, sitting there, part of the conversation and the topic is of one that I felt, somehow, was only partly relevant to me now.
Strange? Why should it be strange?
It was school they were talking about. They were returning to school. They were slogging through their homework, and making a good note to mention that they have homework. And i
The main reason I signed up for the creative writing workshop, the real reason behind my daring of taking on a course alone (no friends, no family, nadda. Just my miserable self and butt) was that I was doing it on a whim.
Face it, three consecutive weeks of boredom - 'stuck at home, on a laptop all day' kind of boredom - got to me good.
So, when I saw the words 'Creative Writing Workshop' on the front page of my polytechnic student web's, I was immediately enticed by the bait, and I wou
May I warn all of you: Don't take the movie 'The Devil Wears Prada' too seriously, and with many pinches of salt for the femme audience!
There was something all too obvious for me when I watched the movie. I tell you, I was adamant about watching a chick flick. However, when ol' Daddy said he was watching too, the in-house movie critic, I hopped onto the bandwagon.
I was so happy I watched the movie.
There's no need for me to write out a summary of the movie. You go watch it when you ca
We all have heard, not too long ago (factually on September the 4th) of a really tragic occurrence.
Animal hero Steve Irwin passed away in an accident with a stingray.
Now, no one can blame either party: Steve's incident is being scanned by the authority, and the animal was just trying to protect itself, even if it was hardly provoked. I was going to muse that it was an angsty femme that just wanted alone time and along came the Crocodile Hunter.
Well, this post goes out to Steve-fans l
Time check: 5:07pm
Listening to: On My Way Home –Enya
Last day of the trip, and I’m feeling a little more than sore that it’s almost over.
All the planned activities have been done. We’ve eaten, drunk, ran and slept our way through the trip, where we all had a good time. I’m sure many share my feelings with the contentment of the trip’s goal being met: We ate a worthy amount, and the others say that it was worth the money.
This morning, the lethargy of my room mate infected me for a bi
The lark may as well have been the closest companion to my body clock.
At six-thirty, still in the dark of the morning, I awoke, and went back to sleep again.
When I woke up once more, it was seven-twenty, and the sunlight peeped in at the corners the curtain failed to cover.
Sunlight. Seven-
BREAKFAST!
Trying to get about the hotel room as quietly as I could (since the second occupant was still resting), my fumbling hands and hindered eyesight (thanks to triple-folded eyelids, a
Greetings from the land that boasts that it's 'Truly Asia'!
Time check, 12:42pm. Listening to: Anywhere Is- Enya.
Well, waking at the deathly hour of four, or about fifteen-past-three to be exact, was something I was prepared for. What I did not expect was my grandmother having prepared my breakfast (pork floss sandwiches, two slices and a mug of Milo) and made me a bottle of honey water. Dad had popped into the bedroom to ensure that I had risen (He needn't worry.) and I went to Mum's
If people were guessing what it's like to be a twin, I may have some good pointers and tips about it.
You see, I am part of a pair of twins. My twin sister and I were the two hellspawns which launched my mother into motherhood. Credit for all and most experience of raising children would have come from our arrival and infant years which sent my family on a spree of sleepless nights, expenditure of goods (make that double), and the most expected one: Telling the two apart.
No, we're not ide
Today, I think my brain burned out, and totally melted to protodermis. Unrefined, half-solid half-fluid silvery liquid of Bionicle life.
It was in the middle of a review I had to do. Note: had to. It was no 'must', but I had to stand in defence for my fellow critics when a member 'demanded' about the review that was not done.
We don't ask for good clients. We ask for ALL clients.
And so I was reviewing the work, re-reading the epic to check again and again to see if my points were vali
