school. bleah.

So it's the first day of school.
AAARGGGGHHH IT'S THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!
okay. peace. calm down. [breathes in and out]
It aint easy ya know
17 weeks of school
Deadlines start from the 4th week onwards.
I'm gonna be sitting for FOUR hours of lectures on Mon mornings. Talk about lecture marathons manz.
And not to mention the fact that I'm in a diff class for every subj. Well, almost. I don't regret taking Calculus as my Elective, though I admit the reactions of those who hear that I take Calculus, are kinda amusing. 'You're taking what??' 'My god, you're crazy' 'Are you out of your mind' 'siao ah?'
However, it comes at a price, after all if I'm in a different class for each subject, how am I gonna manage the different group meetings.
O.o. I'll be like a CEO. A worker CEO that is. One that goes for meetings and 'works' as well. CooOOoOoOol.
Too bad I don't have a P.A.
alright. Enough of this castle building in the air, or in the office so as to speak :p I feel both excited and nervous for tutorials next week. Cause.. I've no idea who's in the same class with me! Gotta break ice and make friends all over again and work in groups for important projects that play a part, either a toe or a foot, in your career and.. and and and. I'm gonna learn math again!
well, sortof la. I mean, can't expect to learn basic algebra in Calculus ma right. But oh boy oh boy. It's like meeting your first love again. That kindof feeling. the heart warms and beats a little faster, the silly grin on your face that can't seem to be wiped off, the hands that tremor with a quiver of anticipated excitement, the state of relaxation of the body as it awaits the satisfaction brought about.. by math! hMm I don't sound that insane do I. Hope not.


Happy, Carefree, Quiet.
What will I be this sem?
Who I am?
Who I should be?
Who I want to be?
Or the tried-and-tested just a part of me?

What.

While re-organising my mum-organised room, I came across a story. A story I wrote based on a dream I had. And don't we all know NEVER to write stories based on dreams! so I admit though I was hesitant at that point, I still put that dream on paper. It was sad. The dream I mean, not the writing. Even after reading it now, I can still recall the dream. It was sad. And here it is, after revising what I wrote, [dad time my engrish not so gud ma]:

He stood rigid, his body tensed with anticipation and sadness as he faced the stairs.

"Daddy! Daddy!", his daughter shrieked, her face displaying an array of emotions as she bounded down the stairs, leaping towards her father.

Her father, bemused and relaxed, casually stretched out his arms and drew her towards him, savouring each second of their heart-rendering scene.

"You're back! I've missed you Daddy! I love you!", she blurted out, suddenly embarrassed by her verbal outburst of affection.

With a wistful smile, he gently lowered her onto the ground, knelt down and embraced her, murmuring into her right ear, "I love you too."

"Promise me you'll never go away again," she asked, her hands feeling his shaven-chin, her eyes a swirl of emotions and longing.

He smiled reassuringly into her eyes.

"Daddy! You're back!" his son's shout of excitement punctuated the warm silence. The father opened his right arm just as his son snuggled against him. "Mummy's been crying about you, Daddy," his son said, eyes full of youthful vigour and child-like wisdom.

"I know," the father replied profoundly, allowing himself to be tugged by his daughter up the stairs. "Now, why don't both of you run up first and let me surprise your mum?", the father suggested to his two jubilant and active children.

"Okay!" The children shouted as they raced up the stairs. The father, with a doleful look on his face, slowly climbed up the stairs to the fourth floor.

"Mummy! Mummy! Guess what?" the daughter's voice could be audibly heard from the stairs.

"Daddy's back!", the son immediately said, not giving her time to respond. Drifts of their conversation were heard by the father as he languidly made his way to the door. He halted outside the door, away from sight, his eyes teared.

He walked away.

so it is done

12 messages.
5 belatedness
5 Testimonials
8 Handshakes

What these all have in common? They were birthday greetings.

Showers of blessings rain upon those who msged me, regardless of it being a belated greeting or not; to those who took the time and trouble to write a testimonial for me, giving the total number of testimonials I have a nice round fat 100; and to those who chose to follow the tradition, to initiate the art of socialising and expressing one's gratitude and happiness with.. a handshake! :)

Thanks for the gifts too! A Maxim magazine, black pepper crab, a DVC, a bag and some shirts and a slice of cake from Chocz. Thank you! You know who you are. Especially the Maxim-ners.

So I've turned 18. A quarter of my life is gone. While I have a significant level of confidence that if I should cease to exist now, happy memories would be shared and laughed about at my funeral, there are several unpleasant memories that would stay. And to these people, I apologise. For the hurts, for the lies, for the insensitive things I've said, the deeds I have done.

You know the best thing about birthdays is neither the presents nor the wishes but the messages cause in each message, is a grain of sand. and I am made up of these grains. But each grain is different, different uses, different characteristics. Some grains propel towards beaches, others towards grass patches, others towards bottles and jars, some thrown on the ground and others gone with the wind.

And how does this apply to me? Simply cause I know who knows me. and I know who thinks they know me. And I know what I appear to be to others.

And so the question arises. Do i consolidate all the grains and make them like one? Or let it be?

Death is no respecter of man and of traditions. It can come like a lion in the day or like a thief at night. Know death, no life.

Work. New things everyday.

Work is becoming very interesting. I learn and do new things every day. Honestly.

First Day of Work: Resizing images using photoshop
Second Day of Work: Uploading of Images
Third Day of Work: Entering Customer Information
Fourth Day of Work: Calling customers to double check their information
Fifth Day of Work: Editing Passages of Information
Sixth Day of Work (Today): Printing letters and slotting them into envelopes.

Don't ask me how much I get paid. You wouldn't want to know. and that's the most truthful statement I've ever uttered. You wouldn't want to know.