Thursday, March 23, 2006
3stan outing. hooray! i missed all of you guys. it was nice seeing (almost) everyone together again and having a quasi-educational dinner. momo must cook for all of us one day! the sweet boy had to go back home and cook a peranakan dinner for his mum. craps, i really must learn how to cook (adding water and stirring doesn not count as cooking. no.) nice time at ian's opulent house (must bring dvds to watch after pros. if i don't have to take bloody vivas) afterwards.
icekimo with aileen was fruitful/fatful. productive! and now i know where to go for carrot cake that's even nicer than the one at my house (supposedly 3 makansutra chopsticks. doesn't taste so to me). we shall go drinking sometime. after the red monster leaves.
alvin's version of poetry: haha.
you say i only hear what i want to.
you say i talk so all the time so.
and i thought what i felt was simple,
and I thought that i don't belong,
and now that i am leaving,
now i know that i did something wrong
'cause i missed you.
yeah yeah, i missed you.
and you say i only hear what i want to:
i don't listen hard,
don't pay attention to the distance that you're running
to anyone, anywhere,
i don't understand if you really care,
i'm only hearing negative: no, no, no.
So i turned the radio on, i turned the radio up,
and this woman was singing my song:
lover's in love, and the other's run away,
lover is crying 'cause the other won't stay.
some of us hover when we weep for the other who was
dying since the day they were born.
well, well, this is not that;
i think that i'm throwing, but i'm thrown.
and i thought i'd live forever, but now i'm not so sure.
You try to tell me that i'm clever,
but that won't take me anyhow, or anywhere with you.
You said that i was naive,
and i thought that i was strong.
i thought, "hey, i can leave, i can leave."
oh, but now i know that i was wrong, 'cause i missed you.
--lisa loeb, stay
+ fictions&fires
6:59 PM
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plangere, latin: to strike, or to lament.
in the depth of winter i finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
--albert camus
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to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle any human being can fight and never stop fighting.
-- ee cummings
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