Sunday, June 9, 2013

Model of the Year




I have finally found a Victoria Secret's Model who I can REALLY call my idol.

Her name is Cara Delevingne and she's British, and is 20 years old.

When she's modelling, she's like this.











                                                         



But backstage, she's like this.







                                                  





SHE IS SOOOO AWESOME. A model that's a tomboy! Her weird faces never fail to make my day.


"Punch me."
"Punch you?"
"Yes. Punch me. In the face. Didn't you hear me?"
"I always here 'punch me in the face' whenever you're speaking, but it's usually subtext."
~Sherlock BBC

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

coooo~ quokkaaa



this is a quokka.
i want a quokka for my birthday! it's so cute and fluffy i can squish it all night long. free squishes all day everyday!

today i went to school to bind my notes but then i came 5 min late. and i was so depressed i just sat on the bench outside the printing shop with my head in my hands for 15 min before Gary came along and gave me his awkward stare.

but i would reallyreallyreally love a quokka.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

still waiting

I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad
Where the West was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I asked "Where've you been?"
He said "Ask anything."

Where were you when everything was falling apart?
All my days were spent by the telephone that never rang
And all I needed was a call that never came
To the corner of 1st and Amistad

The early morning, the city breaks
And I've been calling for years and years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
You never sent me no letters
You got some kind of nerve taking all I want

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me


Sunday, January 6, 2013

runaway

So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep

It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep
There's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray

Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did i get so jaded?
Life's mystery seems so faded

Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughing at the rain
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway but it always seems the same

Friday, December 28, 2012

goodbyes

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
     he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
     because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
     and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
     and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
     took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
     with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
     Valentine signed with a row of Xs
     and he had to ask his father what the Xs meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
     he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
     because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
     and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
     because of its new paint
And the kids told him
     that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
     with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
     when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
     his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
     when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
     he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
     because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
     and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
     because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
     of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
     making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
     or even talked
And the girl around the corner
     wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
     but he kissed her anyway
     because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
     his father snoring loudly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
     he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
     because this time he didn't think
     he could reach the kitchen

Monday, October 29, 2012

life.

time flies by very quickly. more so with every passing year, and i wonder why. is it because as we grow older, we have fewer new experiences to live through? so life seems like it is just a repetitive schedule. wake up, eat, go to school, come home, dinner. the next day will be the same, and the next too. actually, time goes by very slowly on a day to day basis, but when you look back, you suddenly realise "oh my god, i'm already 17!" and 6 years old seemed just yesterday. but yesterday, you were in class dying in the 1 hour lecture that you had to sit through and could not bear for one more second.

life is extremely queer.

it's amazing that happiness and depression are caused by chemicals in the brain. in the end, emotions are being controlled by the availability of certain atoms and compounds. how weird. so if we find a cure to treat depression, and thus make one happier. does that mean we can identify what makes us love, and hence invent a love potion? i wonder what would happen if somebody actually succeeds, which is quite unlikely i think. what if the patient falls in love with a dandelion. that'll be disastrous.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Goodbye

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time

Don't say
We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again