Old wives tales.

Old wives tales.

Brazillian old wives´ tales:
-You will die if you eat mangoes and milk (created to avoid slave nightly plundering of farm areas during the slavery period)
-Mirrors attract lightning during a storm; cover them to be protected (some truth here: metal attracts electric discharges more easily than most other materials, including water. Mirrors were mostly made of iron back then).
-Pointing your finger to the stars will make warts grow on your fingers. No problems if you point to the moon or other planets, though.
-A recipe will not work if you mix ingredients partly clockwise, partly anti-clockwise. (This is true only if one switches direction so quickly that the entire container is not fully stirred).
-Wild boars will trample you to death in your sleep if you eat bacon in your bed past midnight.
-You will grow worms on your stomach if you sleep when you're really hungry.
-If a pregnant woman does not eat whatever food she craves at the time she craves it, the baby's face will resemble said food's shape.
-Drinking soft drinks under sunlight may twist your mouth permanently.
-Saying "Thank You" after someone says "Bless You" after sneezing will cause you to have bad luck.
-People who can draw "perfect" circles are insane.
-Ornamental elephants within your home are bad luck unless they face the door.

-If you are hit on the knee cap and your leg does not twitch, you are insane.


taken from here.
go read. haha

discovery.

Jam with garlic bread is swell.

i'm hiding it too

"Hey, what time do you have to go to school?"She asks.

(Aiyah.. don't disturb me... i need some sleep.) I think to myself. I grunt a barely audible reply

"its just.. well.. don't be late for your paper okay?" She says in a very soft tone.

I'm touched and a little annoyed at myself for being so idiotic earlier.

"I know how you feel. You not being able to do your paper and all. And Dad looking down on you because... you think you're going to fail. That's why i didn't tell anyone i was having my exams the last few weeks." She says in a almost hushed tone. I could almost hear the tears coming out of her eyes. That hurt. The sigh. I couldn't look.

I didn't know she was having her exams and she was MY sister too.

"Just. Well. Do your best okay? And erm Good luck."
She walks out of my room.
To school.

I lie in bed beneath the sheets. Feeling the chilling morning breeze on my exposed thighs. I wrap my blanket around me in search of comfort, away from the cold wind.
She was the last person I had expected to encourage me like that. An insight to how she had felt. Living in the scrutiny of my parents. They always say she didn't study. but who knows? Who knows but... God.

She had lived her life without the support of a family. Even I had lived.. with some sort of support. I wonder deep down if God has a plan for me in all this.

She has fought valiantly and I am proud of her.

Now is my turn.

right and wrong.

Doing something right, and losing what people would call "hope for the future". To see it seep away, between your fingertips, like water.

Or to do something wrong. Gaining everything that everyone says you should have.Telling people that you're blessed. When you know... better.

No one understands the battles that cry out from within you.
No one knows. The compromise.
But alas. It is your own soul and conscience.
That bears the consequence of your actions.

Which would you choose?

Don't think politically correct.
Think honest.

Dead honest.

nice.

Jolene's very nice. haha
I told her i was upset, and she turned on her webcam to try to let me see snow.
It was too laggy and i ended up getting motion sickness instead.

but it was nice. =)

dumb thing

The cockroach begs me with its beady, puppy-dog eyes. I am tempted to smack it and ask it to get a job.

Exaggerated. Like hollywood movies.

Luke 7 :36

The woman that had washed Jesus's feet with tears.

She had taken her whole life, to place it at his feet.

Her long beautiful hair. "The glory of a woman", The bible says. She had used THAT... to wipe his feet.

Her tears. An outburst of her emotions. Her hurt. The way she had felt. Deep, down inside.

The perfume. That she had spent probably a year's wages to buy. Money that could have fed her from day to day. It could have been her prized possessions. The money she had wasted her life to earn.

She had poured it onto His feet. Into the soil. Never to be seen again.

Did she care?
All she wanted to hear, was that her sins were forgiven. That she could be free from the life that she lived. From the scorn of common people. From the hate of angry wives.

What the pharisees had withheld.
Jesus... had feely given.


A multitude of things, make me better than her. I've an education. A house to live in. Food that i complain about and refuse to eat. I definately don't have to undergo despise and scorn. Or the shame of a prostitute.

But there is one thing in which she surpasses me.That is her love for God.
Because she didn't have anything worth living for.
Because she had everything to be foregiven for.

That she treasured His forgiveness of her sins.
THAT much.

I want to be like that.

pick. at your own risk.

I am over my head in studying.
So i've come up with my own

Jon's fortune telling machine.

Pick a number. :)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

(Disclaimer: If you are angry with your fortune, it is all your own fault.)

Ace.

look wat Jess did!
Everyone needs a Jess.
She is ace.

why 2?

Why is common sense called common sense.
Whan so little people have it?

such a befuddling thought.

more comics

You've got it going.

Minutes after I've left my house, I have bumped into the NICEest smelling woman in the entire universe. She smelt so fantastic, that I couldn't help but walk slowly behind her to catch small glimpses of her wonderful perfume, which smells faintly of golden apples, cinnamon.

As she waltzes through the streets, people turn their heads to look. The hipster jeans that comfortably hug her waist, bask in the attention, like a peacock in full bloom. The sweater that wraps nicely around her shoulders radiate beauty. And mystery.

She sashays like a cat walk model and very nearly. Very, very nearly, causes a traffic jam. The uncle in a lorry stops his lorry midway, just for her to cross the road.( even though the green man is gone.)

I am tempted to walk past her and turn to see if she looks as good as she smells, but I can't help it. She smells too good for me to stop walking behind her. I decide to contend with walking behind her until i decide to run for my bus.

The bus is the only thing that is more important than sweet smelling women.

--------------------------------------------
She's constantly on my mind during the bus ride.
Until i decide.
Very fruitfully.
That i love women who smell GOood.
not just good. niether gooood. but GOood.

There is however.
Something that smells better than that.
That. I decide.
Is someone who smells of Christ.

That kind of scent.
Is just divine.

nobody in the funny library.

"Good morning bugger."
She smiles at me dreamily, whilest rubbing her eyes with her arm.

I stare in amazement, wonder and half shock.


How did she ever find out?

Frazz

foxtrot

so much coffeeeee

"I neeeeed sleep." I tell my half bewildered and hungry sister. This horridly early tuesday morning. (oh shucks! 'Its only tuesday', I realise... and reality sets in.)

She chuckles.
"Really. I've just been introduced to a guy by the name of Othneil who remembers me as the guy with funky hairdo and... eye liner." I cry.

The few seconds between the last two words and her expression is rather short lived. She wrinkles her nose, as if to sneeze, and throws her head back in a tremendous laughter that shakes the roof of the HDB flat. She promptly knocks her the back of her head onto the cupboard behind. her. ('orh-bee-quack' i think to myself.)

"ow. " She says, still grinning form ear to ear. I make a face at her.( that kind that looks like this--> =/), and roll my eyes at her. She rolls them back at me.(haha... I'm sorry. I couldn't resist it.)

"That's not very fair." She says after a while, whilest munching on her Nutella sandwich." I've never seen you put eye liner on". She fakes an angry face and sticks her hands on to her hips.

"And... you can have the last few slices of bread la. I'm worried its not enough for you. Cuz you're having exams. I'll go find something else to eat." She says quickly, before I can retort.

Some people ought to get smacked, shot, and hugged and kissed at the same time.

She's one of them.

I smile secretly to myself.

Man

What makes a Man
---------------------
A comfortable shoulder to cry on.
A jacket to keep her form the cold.
a pair of legs to walk her back
all the way from anywhere to her home.

Does the sweetest things
that only she remembers
has the hands that holds
the doors open

has the ears to hear her voice
has the eyes to hold the gaze.
has a mouth not only
just to speak

above all, he must have a woman.
who's willing to let him
do

all these.

small things

Small things do matter. Alot. Alot more than they actually appear to be.

A hug from a friend. A kiss from a loved one. A compliment, from the most attractive girl in the universe. Amongst other things.

Sometimes, the small little things snowball into big things. Like angst, jeaslousy, anger. and silly little things we forget to do or conincidentally, don't realise we did. They grow so totally out of hand, we forget... it started out small.

little things.

they do matter.

oxymoronic

hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia - it means fear of long words.
Irony indeed. yes.

Ruthie

My sister is so funny.

The first time she went to my dad's office, she brought along a Hello Kitty glass cup to make hot chocolate in. She also made my dad promise not to secretly use it when she's away.

This time, she's brought her pillow along with her as well. She tells me in hushed whispers :" I am going to turn Daddy's office into my little pigsty." She gives a cheeky sagely grin. (a cheeky sagely grin? how does someone do that? I don't know. Ask her. She did it.) I can't help but snigger.

My dad has seen through her devious little ploy though. He brought back the pillow this afternoon. I am not surprised he brought it back. Its A4 sized and has hearts and Hello Kitty embroided on it. I'm pretty sure he'd be the brunt of office jokes if he's caught red handed with that kind of pillow on his desk.

She has not given up and tells me of her plans for another attack to invade the office. Its so funny and adorable I secretly want to kiss her.

I pat her on the head instead, and hug her.

She's so funny.

as commonplace as common places.

I smack him on the head with a tofu.

"ouch." he says.

"What the @%#!.." says the tofu.

The fish gasps.
The vegetables faint and wilt.
The ice sweats.

"What a vulgar thing." says the ceiling.

The wall says nothing.
It has seen too many things already.

Hey you there.

I met a guy named Ben this morning. Was jogging with E when I stopped to do setups. He came over to the station opposite mine and smiled. I tilted my head and smiled back out of courtesy.

His hair was frizzy and red. Kind like a hairy sponge. (I know its not exactly a very good description. I'm working on it.) He smiles happily.

"Do you jog often?" He asks. His body glistening with pespiration, under the morning sun that had crept out above the tree tops to eavesdrop on us. I didn't exactly want to tell him. In case he had chronic stalker tendencies that I didn't know about. Just so it wouldn't be awkward, I told him anyway.

"I don't usually jog here... I'm accompanying a friend." I nod, trying to keep eye contact. Its strange though. Its not everyday a half naked guy with interesting hair turns up in front of you to start a conversation.

"ah...I jog every other day." He gives a small grin. Got keep fit you know. Besides, I live around here. Around blk xxx. Where do you stay?" He shoots me an inquisitive look.

Oh dear. I think to myself. Maybe he really has stalker tendencies.
"ERM... 290?" I give a vague answer, trying to throw him off track. My whole estate is made of blk 290s the only difference between them is the alphabets that come after. i.e 290A, 290B, etc .

"290...What?" He asks. Oh dear. I really don't want to tell him. I figure he has to search the entire block if he wants to find me. I tell him anyway. In my mind, I'm praying he doesn't ask me anymore. It's starting to get awkward.

The conversation goes back and forth revolving around our lives.(I'm not going to tell you the details. You'd fall asleep and drool all over your CPU and cause a short circuit.) I find out he's a hairstylist who's working on contract with Monsoon now. Yes, I'm thinking what your thinking. Discounts for hair cut, dye, etc. I am after all, still human.

It turns out he's nice. I might go visit him later at the recruitment fair at JP. Hopefully I'll get his namecard or something. He's been in the same business for twenty years already. Might do me some good.

purple cows and barnyards

"that. is. abosolutely. sexy." She proclaims.

How stumbling. I think to myself. How evil. How crude. How... nice. I cannot!
I shall not succumb to the desires of entertaining that thought in my head. Prevail, I must.

I must think of something else.
I love pencils.

-------------------------------------------
The lady at the photocopying room is utterly sweet. She has offered to dig up mountains of paper, to print the past year exam papers for me. Now she's offering me a thick wad of rough paper( of which i am very in need of). I am tempted to take it. I have run out of foolscap.

"How much.. is it?" I ask.
She laughs a silly laugh. "Nothing." she says. "Just take it."

I can't believe it. What a stroke of kindess.
I smile and feel that warmthness build up inside.

I glance back at her and take the paper with grateful hands.
For a brief moment,

she looks good in that shining armour.

oh! look at the sky!

"Oh! look at the sky! its so oooOOOOoooo......" Bok Wee says.
His eyes obviously lost in awe.

I can't help, but agree. It's so beautiful. Its so wonderfully blue, it takes your mind to places your body can't reach.

It screams of forever and the clouds lumber slowly by. Like tractors, taking their own sweet time to move. Only a million times quieter.

I thank God silently.
Just for making the sky so depressingly beautiful.
-----------------------------------------

"I like your shirt." ET says."I like the brand(it's Nike), and the green is nice too!"
I'm happy for my shirt. It's nice to recieve compliments once in a while.

"How much is it?" ET asks."60? 70?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "my grandma bought it."

"Oh..." She exclaims, "...its priceless."
She smiles.

It's strage how some things have price tags and some things don't. Its like when I find something I like in a shopping mall, and its got no price tag on, I ask for the price. Its so automatic. So... normal.

Then suddenly there's something that can't be paid with in cash. It stumps me beyond logic. What strips the price tag off something? That makes it so special, ...it becomes "priceless"? Its so amazing. So...

a lot like

love.

sadistically statistics.

Jon is horribly, irreversibly, undeniably, addicted to, and dependent on, coffee.
I'd prefer not to be, but its the only other legal drug out there besides cigarettes which burn a hole in your pockets and your lungs. Which is of course why I haven't taken them. They aren't good.

Anyway. Jason says coffee is made from Coco beans (i think he meant cocoa beans) which are harvested from coconut trees. What a nut. He's obviously got it all wrong. They're made from coco-pops. Those coffee beans you see on sale outside Starbucks or Coffee bean? They are barley seeds coated in cocopops. There are no such things as coffee beans. It is all a horrific lie. Stop buggering yourself.

I'm kidding.

Really. I need to be more pragmatic.

oh glorious glorious

I love tang hoon. Espcially when Mummy cooks it.
Its utterly glorious.
its 12 midnight. and the tang hoon is going to lay waste to the 1 hours worth of running.

But i don't care.
Indulge i shall.

there's purple grass!

"Its different now!" She exclaims.
"Its like... its like... there's no physics between us anymore." She cries.

"But.. shouldn't it be chemistry.. i mean like there's no chemistry between us anymore."He asks.

"See! YOu keep changing the subject on me, when I'm trying to tell you about our probelms." She cries.
and cries. He doesn't have a clue.

spiderman

Oh. DAMN it.
The internet is bloody evil.

http://www.funny-games.biz/doublewires.html

I'm so annoyed by the game i can't stop playing . I got as far as 339.69yds
Evil i dare say.

Evil. Like Rena. She is making me fat on butterscotch chocolates.
If she didn't look so innocent she'd might be a witch living in a gingerbread house who's fattening kids to eat. oh bugger.

back to stats.

oh dear.

I've been standing on cement for way too long.
I need to get out.

I tripped over a cow

We were walking and talking.
For some strange reason, I didn't see the lampost in front of me.
For some strangER reason, SHE didn't see the lampost in front of me.
So i crashed headlong into it.

She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed,
till tears rolled down her cheeks.

I couldn't decide which was more annoying:
She not warning me about the lamp post.
or..
The way she looked so pretty laughing, it made me want to do it again.

Thankfully, She's attached.
She ought to be.

Before someone gets seriously hurt.

eyes

Her eyes seemed so dull. So...lifeless. I suppose she's tired, I think to myself. As My glance strolls over the features of her eyes, the brows, the deep dark wrinkles that stand out like cracks on a wall. She looks at me. I look quickly elsewhere. Its moral code.

I wonder what makes her eyes lifeless. Could it be they slope downwards toward the ends of her face, as if weighed down by some mysterious force? Another pair of eyes catch me off guard. This time belonging to a tall dark man.

There was something intriguing about his eyes. Something sinister. Maybe it was the dark bushy eyebrows that resembled an arched angry cat. His eyes weren't as sunken into his face as the old lady's. His pupils were a hazelnut brown and held a stare so deep, It could encompass the whole earth.

Then there was a little girl. The dainty bright little eyes that peered out behind a pair of white, thick-rimmed glasses. They were big, possibly due to the smallessness of her face, and so very, very full of life. She wrapped her tiny arms around the pole on the train carriage and swung round it. Her slightly brown locks of curly asian hair bounced and leaped in the air as if it had a mind of its own and landed, covering that pair of beautiful eyes. She paused, and brushed them back with her finger tips.

Then there was another pair, the ones of her mother's. She had plenty of white on her eyes and her pupil seemed to stand out like a cherry on an ice cream cone. The distant look in her eyes seem to suggest deep thought, or possibly tiredness? Her lips curled as her pursed them and the freckles were like stars on a cloudless night that sprawled across her cheeks.

Then another, yet another pair of eyes.They were all so very different. Some masked by long shiny lashes. Some sunken in like chips in a cookie. One or two were so handsome, you could get lost in them forever. Some were so dark and lifeless, that they held your stare and you could feel your own soul drain away.

Some were almond. Some round like coins. Each one told a different story. The range of whites to slightly yellows, the red veins that etched like vines across the eyes.

Yet, these were just eyes. What about hair? Nose? Mouth or lips or ears? It's amazing how people are so different. So different in just facial features alone. So much detail. So very individually special.

It is no wonder... why God loves them so much.

mugger

I have become a mugger nut.

nonsense

There is no girl.
in my life at the moment.
u muggers, teenage mutant ninja turtles, and hum buggers.

You obviously have been studying the wrong subject.
Please go study something else.
it'd be grand. thanks.

her

This is very disturbing. The girl opposite me has been staring at me inbetween spaces of time.
I am pretending not to notice. But it gets harder and harder like some computer game.

Bernoulii's equation says: pressure... she is giving me pressure. I want to ask her wats up with the staring? Does she have obsesive compulsive staring syndrome..

WAIT.

do i know her? my mind is in a fizzle.

fluids.

I am mugging my brains out in the wee nam library.
The fluid mechanics are going to wash my brains away to a far off dimensionless constant called k. hopefully it will be used to derive some equation of continutity for life. Hopefully. humbug. I

i shold start studying instead of trying to look mighty with my fluids txtbk an and end up blogging instead. great. study study.

i am buried.

And i can't see for nuts.

going going gone.

I am drowning in wrork lifeblu relationbulpships wkwdblup blup blup blup blup...



(I hope He saves me soon.)

nonsense. so much nonsense.

It seems to me.
That people like nonsense. Or what comes of it.
I don't why but they do. Its possibly the same reason people like gossip or the same reason why people like trashy novels.
Which is perfectly fine with me. I'm full of it. (Nonsense of course. not trashy novels. For those who are nodding furiously, you ought to get shot.)

For this reason, it seems good enough to continue blogging all the crap out. So that someone out there can be happy. Besides, better out than in-side-out eh?

If you haven't the foggiest idea what is going on. Or are totally lost in this monologue of thoughts. I do hope you find a map, or a way out of this mess. Really. You shouldn't be here. OR wasting your time here. Unless you're in deep search of crap or what not. Then yes you've come to the right place. I sell loads of it by the tons of wanton.

Speaking of which, NTU's chicken rice stall sells very unfulfilling wanton mee. Its ridiculous. If you're the kind who can get full on half a bowl of rice, you're really amazing, and its the stall for you. The portions are happily miniscule.

The exams are back as you can see. Along with all the happy subjects and what not, come all the crap, and what not as well. And along with all the crap and what not, come happy people who love crap as well.

I still don't understand the whole lot about liking crap! You say. Well neither do i. It gives me fuzbumps. What are fuzbumps? I have no idea. Just trying to figure them out will give u mozburps. What are mozburps? Don't bother, or you'll really get something horribly incurable. Like curiousty. Which is particularly incurable. Why cure it anyway? I dont' know. Don't ask. it'd make you curious.

Which could possibly be why people love crap. It makes them curious about stuff they never thought about. Or maybe, that the sun perhaps should have risen form the north instead of the east. Maybe, if you change your bearings and screw up your compass it really wouldn't matter. Doesn't solve poverty does it? or the world's food health problems. Doesn't even make the sun happy. Or would it?

I can imagine the sun being awfully bored by now, watching the planets circulate around it. I wonder if it'll get fed up one day and implode or walk off to another galaxy and settle down with its significant other.
Perhaps.
One day.
It might.
Then we'll all go off spinning on the wrong axis and land in some hideously dark orb.
I hope not. For crapping out loud

Oh well back to confidence intervals and hypothesis testing. Ihave a obnoxious quiz tomorrow. I shall do very awfully bloody well. IF i can even survive the ordeal and manage to pen something done. Without being sacarstic in the process. humbug. to books.

exams.

My brain involutarily has reached some sort of steady state diffusion. Which in material science terms, means that whatever i've been trying to get in has been coming out the other side. What, or where, is the other side? I haven't the atom of an idea. Which is buggerish.

Exams are in 9 days time and nothing is staying in. Oh dear. Which by Hypothesis testing, could possibly suggest that 1: I do have a brain but am not using it(Which is equal to not having a brain) OR 2: I really don't have a brain. By the likes of what has been going on. It seems that either one is likely as possible.

If I'm pretty sure that 95% of the time nothing is going in. Then I possibly could have a 95% chance of having no brain. Which is sad. But if i make that kind of assumption, I'd be making some sort of a horrible type one error. (in statistical terms) Which is rather dangerously serious conclusion in this case. Its the equivalent of saying a mung bean is a green bean just because the sample mean proves that its not a hotdog. Oh bummer. I need more samples of my brain.

I need more brain. Yes. Definately. More brains means more retention. More retention means more detention, and more detention means more dentures and more dentures mean... I'm growing old. OH DEAR. I just need more brain, not old age. More brains that the dinosaurs which happen to be extinct and definately more brains that an snowman. Speaking of which, Christmas is coming. oh good. Someone is getting baptised on Christmas. Yippee. :)

just too bad.

Memories that seem to cluster back to me. Like a trail of blood red ants. Thoughts of sex and what not. "Am I really that bad?" I question. "Is it really so hard?"

Its never been easy living life. Its not really easier. But somehow its different. Even though i still succumb to the dark sensual desires of my heart. Somehow. I know its wrong and yet i can't help but do it. Its like i'm dragging these heavy metal chains around me. I hate them, yet, come crawling for them to be placed on me. Like a garland of the olympic games.

They hurt and tear at my skin, as the guilt overwhelms and i feel so horrible. All this while knowing that there is still hope. Hope that there will be one day i can throw them down and walk off. I try to give them up but i can't. I can't.

The sky has been so damn bloody cold recently. I think the chills have seeped in my nerves and killed them. My knees are screaming and my head is spinning from a whirlpool of so many thoughts.Crying doesn't help and the tear stains just seem to have made permernant residence on my face.

I need help. seriously.