Mess

I'm scared and confused.
Am I being ridiculously paranoid.....or is there something else?
I'm suspicious. But only because I care.
Perhaps I got it all wrong. I'm sorry.
But someone needs to be there to protect you.
That's all I ever wanted to do.

claude monet is brilliant.

his treatment of colour is just unbelievable

his works put reality in a different light and makes you appreciate it better.

It reels me in, until i'm fully immersed in the flow of his strokes, the dream-like undefinition of the edges, in full awe.

If i had to pick a favourite artist, it would be him.

Electric Shock

One day.....I received the results of a test.
A test that would determine my fate.
I wasn't expecting too much of it because the day before the test, i hadn't studied properly, and I found the test really hopeless.
When I got the paper back, I was shocked.
I didn't know how to feel. Shell-shocked, perhaps.
I had just scraped by with a mere 75%, and though it amazed me how i could have even gotten such a grade with my unfaithful studying, I was disgusted at how i could have let myself slip so much.
I felt breathless, as if my life were hanging by a thread; as if i were hanging over a precipice, about to fall into the sea of death, if not for my scrawny arm strength clinging on to dear life.
An electric shock. One that woke up all my inner senses, slapped the drowsiness away, doused any sleepy notion with cold water, set my gears roaring into action.
I thank my almost failure for giving me a jump start back into the "real" world, where achievement in examinations is the highest obtainable code of honour for a student such as myself.

Ecstasy

I was walking to school from the bus stop, and was waiting at the traffic light to cross the road. A few metres away from me was this old man, rather raggedy, from what I can remember, and on a bicycle. In my drowsy state, i thought him a harmless, nice little guy.
Then, he started shouting at no one at all, not in an angry, but rather, the way one would scream when they have just conquered a mountain, all alone. Screaming, just because they can. I edged away from him - surely he wasn't in his right mind?
The green man started flashing, and I watched him while crossing the road. He had resumed his fit of supposed insanity, "Wooh!"-ing in exuberance, in ecstasy, as he weaved in and out of the cars on his bicycle.
I kept my eye on him until he could be seen no longer, disappearing amongst the mass of gilded vehicles. It seemed, he had come and gone, unperceived by all but me.
Reaching the other side, I realised it didn't matter what he had been shouting about, even it had been about nothing at all. He had given me a reason to feel. He had brightened up my morning. He had added just a bit more life to my dreary one. Hoping for me to share in his ecstasy.

Conflict

One time in Lang Arts lesson (Language Arts - English), we watched this BBC video about all these incredibly amazing writers (which I will never become, sadly), and how they go about their writing process, and their inspirations etc. So there was this part where one of the writers was at a primary school and conducting all sorts of activities to try and get the students to get creative and have fun with making up stories. So, they were to use celebrities and make stories out of them. There was one involving a rivalry between Simon Cowell and Louie Walsh, which instantly gave me the image of them giving each other the evil eye. I found it immensely hilarious, and almost burst out laughter, out of the absurdity, and yet, shocking realisticness of it all.

Then I looked about the classroom, and all I saw was blank expressions, the jovial feeling snuffed there and then. Somehow, I felt frustrated with them for not wanting to laugh, not wanting to smile, not understanding.

Where's the joy in birthdays when you know what you are going to get?
Where's the exhilaration of opening a package when you already know what;s inside?

Why are we all so careful that we cannot be slightly off the mark, such that we must get a specifically requested item?
Or is it just pure laziness for lack of wanting to be thoughtful, wanting to understand the person, and know what they would like without having to outwardly ask them.

It is a great feeling to rip open a present to find something you really like, not because you told the person to get it for you, but rather, because they knew exactly what to get you.

The best part about presents is not really the item itself, but the sentiment and thought that comes with it. Like a confirmation of appreciation, trust, understanding.

Anyday id rather receive a handmade misshapen mug than a store bought pristine perfect shirt. The latter is dead, with no feelings attached to it...just something you could obtain for yourself at the nearest mall if you really had nothing better to do.

so please. Let's put some thought into our gifts, shall we?

Jan Hai