Human #1:
This person is a monkey. People call him one. He has an iPhone. He finds it funny when I sing Boom Boom Pow - Black Eyed Peas.
Human #2:
This person = Yes. He is just..yes. Sometimes I feel that he is just too lucky for having such..yes..ness. He has the leg of a pig. And he'll bomb your house..apparently.
Human #3:
This person would have been a good clown in 2008. He has the funniest stories. He is now very attractive with his 'makeover'..of sorts.
Human #4:
A child trapped in a 14 year old body and 14 year old world. His speech mainly is constituted of "That's what she said! Owned!"
Human #5:
The born-again good girl that found new outlooks after leaving me. But I miss her and she is forever my sister. I still think she's short.
Human #6:
The perpetually happy girl. She completely disregards the fact that she's female and stays happy, plays games and pigs out.
Human #7:
The creative-hilarious-good friend. She loves purple and is even cooler for taking a shine to Kamelot. Rock on.
Human #8:
This person is a pleasant soul. He is never too mean or too nice. He is Korean and loves Coldplay.
He was in my 2008 class.
Human #9:
This person could have had anyone else. Every day I just smile my biggest smile to myself and thank whoever it is that led me to her. And I still think I am the luckiest ever. She is my number nine. No-one ever can surpass her magic.
Human #10:
This person has led me not to believe in fate. Our relationship stands verily on chance. One small thing could have changed where I am today. They are tall for a girl and they find me insane beyond belief.
Human #11:
This person is scared by me, despite the fact that he is quite a lot larger than me. He is affectionate as hell and is afraid of hell. No offence, but he is a reminder of how awesome I am.
Human #12:
The first thing I ever said to this person was "rhinoceros' can charge faster than my phone.". Even though I have no real relationship with this person, we talk away the minutes/hours. It always renews my faith in MSN as a communication means. Someday I think we might meet for real.
Human #13:
This person has been in Germany for five minutes total. They do not have a receding hairline.
They have exceptional aim when brandishing sharp pens.
Human #14:
This person has deep humour and is a buff geek. His thought patterns are worthily expressed with his extensive knowledge of our language.
Human #15:
He is an Asian bogan. He takes an interest in makeshift weapons. He knows a lot about the world and doesn't have the best habit to suit his busy lifestyle.
Human #16:
This person is dedicated. He will chase his dream and I will be there to back him up. He also is quite fond of MTG and the dota. He is amazingly tolerant of me.
Human #17:
This person is short but has a large spirit. She shares my love for sarcasm and the Simpsons. I thank her for everything she's brought to me, including some experience with kids.
Human #18:
This person is fun fun fun. She makes burping and showing the mushed up foods in her mouth look good. She is also well on her way to being an awesome cook.
Human #19:
If you listen to this person, you will realise how underrated he is. I think all the hype (including the team name) is well deserved. Always got the last laugh, he is the MAN.
Human #20:
This person is humorous for one reason: Her "humour". She is nearly always excited and she talks with the fastest speed and the speech is never no accompanied by hand gestures. Go her.
THATS TWENTY! GUESS PLEASE.
______________________________________________________________
Environmental Factors.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
våre demoner
For our demons
Have haunted us for generations
Here's my thoughts on humanity's 'demons/demoner':
1. Pride:
Let's swallow it. Put it aside. Forget about it for a while. I already have. Peel away the cold exterior and reveal what's in our brains. It doesn't hurt to show a little bit of raw emotion. Tell the ones you love how much you do. I look pathetic and I don't care. I've swallowed my pride.
2. Taking Things for Granted:
or "getting bored of something" or "you-don't-know-what-you've-got-'til-its-gone disease". People get bored of me much easier than I get bored of them. What I do is think every day about how thankful I am for what I have. I try to show it in words and action. Others, they will be less and less excited to see me until it comes to a point where it goes "Why are you so clingy?". I won't take that well. I'm savouring what I have. I won't get bored.
Oh I'll be burning for years to come, stay with me and stay alight.
3. Shyity/Shyness/Lack of Confidence:
I don't know if this can be treated so much as influenced. I was a very shy boy back in the day. Since the separation of my parentals, I've been a total crazed mess of a person. I don't know why, but I've just gone "What the hell." and gone for it. How much does it take to pluck up the courage to drop one line that'll be memorable? Get out there. Into people's minds.
Break the ice. Don't wait for it to melt.
4. Self-hate:
Now I admit I haven't defeated this demon. Sometimes you just feel like the worst person ever. Most of the time I don't even know where I've gone wrong, and I just sit around moping and wondering what on earth I did. Then I settle on "I'm just unpleasant in general.". I'm told this isn't true, but people still act like I am a very bad human being. But I now think its no-ones fault.
Self-hate gets you nowhere, sometimes some pity, but otherwise nothing.
Leaves a taste as sour as vinegar in your mouth.
5. Hypocrisy:
Okay so I still have pride. Just a slither. I'm a hypocrite. And I have taken things for granted before. But I've learned my lesson mostly. I'm a hypocrite. And I still am shy and there are things that I can't bring myself to do. I'm a hypocrite. I try to give advice to other people who have the same problems I have that I don't treat myself. I'm a hypocrite.
I'm a teenager.
_________________________________________________________
Love songs know their stuff.
Kaizers Orchestra - Våre demoner
Released: 27 April 2009
Check it out. Inspired this blog. Shameless plugs for the win. It's in Norwegian but the music is nice. Check it out if you haven't yet. (27 April was the day Joyeeta returned from her trip to Thailand and was Jason Mi's 14th birthday).
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Rockin' the facts.
I acknowledge the fact that I got this of Osborn, and that he got it off Renee.
Ten things I wish I could say to ten different people right now:
1. Have mercy.
2. I believe in you.
3. Thanks for having such ham.
4. Stay with me, I couldn't bear being apart.
5. Don't think, mate. GO FOR IT!
6. Get off your high horse. You aren't better than the rest of us.
7. The most talented are also the most humble.
8. I'll miss you.
9. Let's meet up one day. I miss you.
10. You are very intriguing.
Nine things about myself:
1. I can draw with a mouse.
2. My handwriting is shemale.
3. Orange juice is my preferred juice.
4. I'm always up for meeting new people.
5. I'm a sweet-talker of the sweetest kind.
6. I don't have a massive ego to compensate for other shortcomings.
7. Self-esteem is fluctuating.
8. I am too curious. Lucky I'm not a cat.
9. I am very deep in the ocean of love.
Eight ways to win my heart!:
1. In a contest after I'm dead.
2. Make me feel special.
3. Include me.
4. Talk to me when you see me alone.
5. Don't be shy.
6. Kaizers Orchestra/Kamelot.
7. Take my crap.
8. Give a crap.
Seven things that cross my mind a lot:
1. Her.
2. My dad's opinion.
3. My health.
4. FOOD.
5. Music.
6. Drama.
7. Sleep.
Six things I do before I fall asleep:
1. Shower.
2. Clean my teeth.
3. Take off clothes.
4. Put on clothes.
5. Drift off.
6. Then get into bed and drift off again.
Four things you're wearing right now:
1. New jeans.
2. Favourite jacket.
3. Plain white T.
4. A smile.
Three songs that you listen to often
1. Maestro - Kaizers Orchestra
2. Ghost Opera - Kamelot
3. Hold Music - Architecture In Helsinki
Two things you want to do before you die:
1. Have children.
2. Travel the world.
One confession:
Some people mean a lot more to me than they think.
OKAY THAT'S THAT.
in addition, I'm going to start posting pictures in my blogs sometimes.
What better way to start uploading than with a celebratory welcome to pictures.
______________________________________________________
Everything is Art.
Ten things I wish I could say to ten different people right now:
1. Have mercy.
2. I believe in you.
3. Thanks for having such ham.
4. Stay with me, I couldn't bear being apart.
5. Don't think, mate. GO FOR IT!
6. Get off your high horse. You aren't better than the rest of us.
7. The most talented are also the most humble.
8. I'll miss you.
9. Let's meet up one day. I miss you.
10. You are very intriguing.
Nine things about myself:
1. I can draw with a mouse.
2. My handwriting is shemale.
3. Orange juice is my preferred juice.
4. I'm always up for meeting new people.
5. I'm a sweet-talker of the sweetest kind.
6. I don't have a massive ego to compensate for other shortcomings.
7. Self-esteem is fluctuating.
8. I am too curious. Lucky I'm not a cat.
9. I am very deep in the ocean of love.
Eight ways to win my heart!:
1. In a contest after I'm dead.
2. Make me feel special.
3. Include me.
4. Talk to me when you see me alone.
5. Don't be shy.
6. Kaizers Orchestra/Kamelot.
7. Take my crap.
8. Give a crap.
Seven things that cross my mind a lot:
1. Her.
2. My dad's opinion.
3. My health.
4. FOOD.
5. Music.
6. Drama.
7. Sleep.
Six things I do before I fall asleep:
1. Shower.
2. Clean my teeth.
3. Take off clothes.
4. Put on clothes.
5. Drift off.
6. Then get into bed and drift off again.
Four things you're wearing right now:
1. New jeans.
2. Favourite jacket.
3. Plain white T.
4. A smile.
Three songs that you listen to often
1. Maestro - Kaizers Orchestra
2. Ghost Opera - Kamelot
3. Hold Music - Architecture In Helsinki
Two things you want to do before you die:
1. Have children.
2. Travel the world.
One confession:
Some people mean a lot more to me than they think.
OKAY THAT'S THAT.
in addition, I'm going to start posting pictures in my blogs sometimes.
What better way to start uploading than with a celebratory welcome to pictures.
______________________________________________________
Everything is Art.
Friday, June 19, 2009
JCJ 888
8 = chinese lucky number
seriously coolest number plate ever.
in other news, i now have a mother and a step mother.
good on you, dad.
Mr. Run Qiang Gong and Mrs. Chang E. Ding.
This is the first time i've worn a suit in my life.
I will show a picture of it on request, but who wants to see me in a suit?
So now, I've started to think, is a half brother/sister out of the question?
My dad says never out of the question. I hope that he does have another child.
She's still young and he's still working. Although he might have to work til past 65 if he does.
but the idea is so exciting, a kid who's 15 or so years younger than me !
He/she would definitely like me best.
Speaking of kids liking me, my duke of ed service is after school care with Divya for Murray Farm students. (nice segue eh?)
I'm a boy so I'm not allowed in any rooms with only a girl in it, either cause boys are not to be trusted or itll look bad if the girl accuses the boy of something when they are the only two in a room. Oh and I'm not allowed in the pillow room because its full of pillows that kids hide under, and guys arent allowed to go to places that kids are concealed. All just precautionary things.
I can yell from the doorway though. (=
I feel accomplished. I helped Jed the Year 2 kid do his homework.
I realised how hard it is to explain things like use of plurals, why there's a 'u' in 'guess' and why the sentence "Mum sat in a table to do her work." doesn't make sense. VERY HARD.
This reinforced my point "English is messed up.".
One thing I am proud of myself: I taught him the "a or an" rule of grammar all by myself !
All the other things he would need constant help and reassurance. But once I explained this to him, he was like 'hmm..elephant..a...e!". Then he turns to me and says in his little year 2 voice "an?" And I smile and say "Good work!". From then he was on fire. I engraved the vowels into his brain, or rather, penciled them into his homework book. He was quiet and I'm not sure about smart, since I don't remember how dumb I was in Year 2.
Lots of pencil sharpening for the week to come later, Divya remembered to call her parents, but Ms. Cornwall couldn't wait for them cause she needed to pick up her children. So she dropped Divya and me at North Rocks Park. While waiting for Divya's dad to pick us up, I attained this massive bruise on the side of my head.
Chris Gong Behaviour + Nighttime + Metal Equipment = Ouch.
So I say to Divya's dad "I need to go to Carlingford Court". I use the word "need" loosely because all I wanted to do is get a free Big Mac. I felt bad for that cause the traffic was terrible.
Anyway, I had my Big Mac and I walked past Carlingford Village on the way home, and thought "I'll go in there because my family might be eating there." But I thought, "Nah, that's a crazy assumption, but meh."
And whaddaya know, there they were, muching away without me. I was like "OH CRAP!" and stuffed my McDonald's bag into my school bag. My dad was like "How the crap did you know we were here and get here?". I just said "I had an inkling.".
AAAAAND, i turned this blog post into a recount. but whatever.
__________________________________________________
Don't take what I say too seriously.
seriously coolest number plate ever.
in other news, i now have a mother and a step mother.
good on you, dad.
Mr. Run Qiang Gong and Mrs. Chang E. Ding.
This is the first time i've worn a suit in my life.
I will show a picture of it on request, but who wants to see me in a suit?
So now, I've started to think, is a half brother/sister out of the question?
My dad says never out of the question. I hope that he does have another child.
She's still young and he's still working. Although he might have to work til past 65 if he does.
but the idea is so exciting, a kid who's 15 or so years younger than me !
He/she would definitely like me best.
Speaking of kids liking me, my duke of ed service is after school care with Divya for Murray Farm students. (nice segue eh?)
I'm a boy so I'm not allowed in any rooms with only a girl in it, either cause boys are not to be trusted or itll look bad if the girl accuses the boy of something when they are the only two in a room. Oh and I'm not allowed in the pillow room because its full of pillows that kids hide under, and guys arent allowed to go to places that kids are concealed. All just precautionary things.
I can yell from the doorway though. (=
I feel accomplished. I helped Jed the Year 2 kid do his homework.
I realised how hard it is to explain things like use of plurals, why there's a 'u' in 'guess' and why the sentence "Mum sat in a table to do her work." doesn't make sense. VERY HARD.
This reinforced my point "English is messed up.".
One thing I am proud of myself: I taught him the "a or an" rule of grammar all by myself !
All the other things he would need constant help and reassurance. But once I explained this to him, he was like 'hmm..elephant..a...e!". Then he turns to me and says in his little year 2 voice "an?" And I smile and say "Good work!". From then he was on fire. I engraved the vowels into his brain, or rather, penciled them into his homework book. He was quiet and I'm not sure about smart, since I don't remember how dumb I was in Year 2.
Lots of pencil sharpening for the week to come later, Divya remembered to call her parents, but Ms. Cornwall couldn't wait for them cause she needed to pick up her children. So she dropped Divya and me at North Rocks Park. While waiting for Divya's dad to pick us up, I attained this massive bruise on the side of my head.
Chris Gong Behaviour + Nighttime + Metal Equipment = Ouch.
So I say to Divya's dad "I need to go to Carlingford Court". I use the word "need" loosely because all I wanted to do is get a free Big Mac. I felt bad for that cause the traffic was terrible.
Anyway, I had my Big Mac and I walked past Carlingford Village on the way home, and thought "I'll go in there because my family might be eating there." But I thought, "Nah, that's a crazy assumption, but meh."
And whaddaya know, there they were, muching away without me. I was like "OH CRAP!" and stuffed my McDonald's bag into my school bag. My dad was like "How the crap did you know we were here and get here?". I just said "I had an inkling.".
AAAAAND, i turned this blog post into a recount. but whatever.
__________________________________________________
Don't take what I say too seriously.
out with the old. in with the new.
Here I am once again, ranting.
Missed it? I didn't.
Here, right now, I feel like the worst person ever:
-I'm bad at most things.
-I look and act like an idiot.
-I don't know when to stop.
-I take take take take take take, but never give.
-I 'force my opinions' on everyone.
-I'm unreliable.
-The way I beat myself up also pisses people off.
God. Here's two good things about me:
-My handwriting. (maybe not even this)
-My skills at SSBB.
Pretty pathetic eh? Invader of space. Chained weight and parasite.
Pity-seeker so much that I've been given up on. You just can't take it anymore.
I want to feel wanted. It used to work.
Now a little joke about anything gets a 'fine' or a 'whatever' or an 'ok' or an 'i don't care'.
You leave.
I follow.
I leave.
You turn a blind eye and walk away.
I don't want the choice.
My choice is what makes you happy.
I just never want to do otherwise.
You have my dignity, pride and power.
The woman has it.
I try to have a bad mood.
This makes you mad.
I just flip right around and chase after you and try my best to make you happy.
Because, unlike you, I can't stand to be apart.
You are my better.
I'm only for small doses.
On the other hand, I want you all the time.
I'm not one you turn to.
I don't give the answers/reactions you desire.
Leave me or show me that I'm needed.
There are other people, amazing-er than me, who just make you smile so much. They are me with about 120% more to offer. I'm a ghost who just subtly follows and peeves. I sure hope it isn't a trend. Out with the old. In with the new. Again it brings to my timeless theory "Meeting me is great fun. Knowing me sucks.". Yes, I know you'll hate me for saying these things, petty jealousy. Face it, it's me.
Then I think, you have more than a valid reason to be like that. And there I go again, hating myself for feeling sorry for myself and not you.
Seriously, you can make me feel the worst.
To you and anyone who reads this, I am that pathetic. I know half of this is untrue but it is the way it seems to me now without your input.
But no matter what, at the end of the day, you're always bringin' me back to you. Just call my name. And I couldn't fit in a million blog posts, all the things you do that make me smile and how much you mean to me. I've even resorted to cliché. Even when I'm sitting around wallowing in the negative, you can pull me from the rough with but three simple words. And the feelings more than mutual. I love you, unbelievably much more than ever before.
That's my twenty-two cents on that.
_________________________________________________
I've opened mine. Now you open your heart.
Missed it? I didn't.
Here, right now, I feel like the worst person ever:
-I'm bad at most things.
-I look and act like an idiot.
-I don't know when to stop.
-I take take take take take take, but never give.
-I 'force my opinions' on everyone.
-I'm unreliable.
-The way I beat myself up also pisses people off.
God. Here's two good things about me:
-My handwriting. (maybe not even this)
-My skills at SSBB.
Pretty pathetic eh? Invader of space. Chained weight and parasite.
Pity-seeker so much that I've been given up on. You just can't take it anymore.
I want to feel wanted. It used to work.
Now a little joke about anything gets a 'fine' or a 'whatever' or an 'ok' or an 'i don't care'.
You leave.
I follow.
I leave.
You turn a blind eye and walk away.
I don't want the choice.
My choice is what makes you happy.
I just never want to do otherwise.
You have my dignity, pride and power.
The woman has it.
I try to have a bad mood.
This makes you mad.
I just flip right around and chase after you and try my best to make you happy.
Because, unlike you, I can't stand to be apart.
You are my better.
I'm only for small doses.
On the other hand, I want you all the time.
I'm not one you turn to.
I don't give the answers/reactions you desire.
Leave me or show me that I'm needed.
There are other people, amazing-er than me, who just make you smile so much. They are me with about 120% more to offer. I'm a ghost who just subtly follows and peeves. I sure hope it isn't a trend. Out with the old. In with the new. Again it brings to my timeless theory "Meeting me is great fun. Knowing me sucks.". Yes, I know you'll hate me for saying these things, petty jealousy. Face it, it's me.
Then I think, you have more than a valid reason to be like that. And there I go again, hating myself for feeling sorry for myself and not you.
Seriously, you can make me feel the worst.
To you and anyone who reads this, I am that pathetic. I know half of this is untrue but it is the way it seems to me now without your input.
But no matter what, at the end of the day, you're always bringin' me back to you. Just call my name. And I couldn't fit in a million blog posts, all the things you do that make me smile and how much you mean to me. I've even resorted to cliché. Even when I'm sitting around wallowing in the negative, you can pull me from the rough with but three simple words. And the feelings more than mutual. I love you, unbelievably much more than ever before.
That's my twenty-two cents on that.
_________________________________________________
I've opened mine. Now you open your heart.
Friday, June 12, 2009
the trendiest of trends
I KNOW JACK'S GOT ME BEAT BUT I DON'T CARE.
Perspectives - Myself
Who are we to make justice the way we do?
Two parties are biased and the third,
Doesn't even know when, where, what or who.
Emotions rule the courts, now that's just absurd.
The homeless man has to shoot down his food
Time comes for decisions, which way do you lean?
"He's just fightin' for survival, dude!"
or "He's a feral, madman, a killing machine!"?
Without a total global mental connection
Every little thing could stand for correction
Even when we have explored everyone's perspective
It's all up to our respective directives.
Take the oversqueezed topic that is love,
Your opinions are always mixed
To some it's all doves and wonderful like the stars above
But to the heartbroken, it's pain that can't be fixed
He is all but lost for words
She thinks he just doesn't listen.
He thinks she doesn't love him, and that hurts
She's just too embarrassed to tell him how much he glistens.
Without a total global mental connection
Every little thing could stand for correction
Even when we have explored everyone's perspective
We can never be called psychological detectives.
I am proud,
I am loud,
You see a showoff,
Who thinks he's so tough
Has he lost his mind
Or is his incredibly refined?
Is she lame
Or is she just completely sane?
Hyperactive or a dancer?
We'll never know the answer.
Without a total global mental connection
Every little thing could stand for correction
Even when we have explored everyone's perspective
Earthly methods of judgement will never be effective.
END.
I think this took more than one hour to write.
Yeah, it sucks.
___________________________________________
Excuse the poor expression.
A writer's not what I am.
Perspectives - Myself
Who are we to make justice the way we do?
Two parties are biased and the third,
Doesn't even know when, where, what or who.
Emotions rule the courts, now that's just absurd.
The homeless man has to shoot down his food
Time comes for decisions, which way do you lean?
"He's just fightin' for survival, dude!"
or "He's a feral, madman, a killing machine!"?
Without a total global mental connection
Every little thing could stand for correction
Even when we have explored everyone's perspective
It's all up to our respective directives.
Take the oversqueezed topic that is love,
Your opinions are always mixed
To some it's all doves and wonderful like the stars above
But to the heartbroken, it's pain that can't be fixed
He is all but lost for words
She thinks he just doesn't listen.
He thinks she doesn't love him, and that hurts
She's just too embarrassed to tell him how much he glistens.
Without a total global mental connection
Every little thing could stand for correction
Even when we have explored everyone's perspective
We can never be called psychological detectives.
I am proud,
I am loud,
You see a showoff,
Who thinks he's so tough
Has he lost his mind
Or is his incredibly refined?
Is she lame
Or is she just completely sane?
Hyperactive or a dancer?
We'll never know the answer.
Without a total global mental connection
Every little thing could stand for correction
Even when we have explored everyone's perspective
Earthly methods of judgement will never be effective.
END.
I think this took more than one hour to write.
Yeah, it sucks.
___________________________________________
Excuse the poor expression.
A writer's not what I am.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
the new trend.
HEY! LET'S POST A SONG LIKE JACK M. MARSDEN
Ungeneric - Myself
I'm not one to write a love song /slash/ whine
But everybody has their time
And this time is mine
Don't look at me like it's a crime.
If I ever did this I did swear
To reach out of the convention
And go wherever I dared
To never ever at all mention that
"I love yooooouuuuuu,
That's one thing I know is truuuuuue."
There are other words than true that rhyme with you
And we do not stick to eachother like super glue
And you're not contagious like the common flu
Oh what can I doooo
To be ungeneric?
What do I hope to achieve with this rhetorical question?
Surely theres a better way to express my obsession
than "Why can't I keep my eyes off you?"
Lines like that, girls have far outgrew
Why is it that guys stoop so low?
I think their love has clogged up their creative flow.
But, who am I to call other guys wussy
When the exact same fate has befallen me?
"I love yooooouuuuuu,
That's one thing I know is truuuuuue."
There are other words than true that rhyme with you
And we do not stick to eachother like super glue
And you're not contagious like the common flu
Oh what can I doooo
To be ungeneric?
"My love for thee is vast as the oceans and seas."
Metaphors and similes.
What about "You're like the smell of my toilet, indescribable by words."?
Not bad apart from the reek and turds
Ahh, unconventional thinking is riddling
Oh who am I kidding,
All I've got is
"I love yooooouuuuuu,
That's one thing I know is truuuuuue."
There are other words than true that rhyme with you
And we do not stick to eachother like super glue
And you're not contagious like the common flu
Oh what can I doooo
To be ungeneric?
END.
Well I hope you liked it.
____________________________________________________
Conventions are conventions because they are nice and easy.
Ungeneric - Myself
I'm not one to write a love song /slash/ whine
But everybody has their time
And this time is mine
Don't look at me like it's a crime.
If I ever did this I did swear
To reach out of the convention
And go wherever I dared
To never ever at all mention that
"I love yooooouuuuuu,
That's one thing I know is truuuuuue."
There are other words than true that rhyme with you
And we do not stick to eachother like super glue
And you're not contagious like the common flu
Oh what can I doooo
To be ungeneric?
What do I hope to achieve with this rhetorical question?
Surely theres a better way to express my obsession
than "Why can't I keep my eyes off you?"
Lines like that, girls have far outgrew
Why is it that guys stoop so low?
I think their love has clogged up their creative flow.
But, who am I to call other guys wussy
When the exact same fate has befallen me?
"I love yooooouuuuuu,
That's one thing I know is truuuuuue."
There are other words than true that rhyme with you
And we do not stick to eachother like super glue
And you're not contagious like the common flu
Oh what can I doooo
To be ungeneric?
"My love for thee is vast as the oceans and seas."
Metaphors and similes.
What about "You're like the smell of my toilet, indescribable by words."?
Not bad apart from the reek and turds
Ahh, unconventional thinking is riddling
Oh who am I kidding,
All I've got is
"I love yooooouuuuuu,
That's one thing I know is truuuuuue."
There are other words than true that rhyme with you
And we do not stick to eachother like super glue
And you're not contagious like the common flu
Oh what can I doooo
To be ungeneric?
END.
Well I hope you liked it.
____________________________________________________
Conventions are conventions because they are nice and easy.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
CBG
Today, I will read you a story.
It's about a boy called Christopher Gong.
He's a teenager in the high point of life. Any more excitement in his life would cause a chemical reaction that will cause him to explode into bite-sized cubes. So he goes to school and he's in Year 9. I think he would say that its been his best year ever. The lowest of lows will be followed by the highest of highs. ALWAYS. Think about it.
Anyway, in the morning he wakes up. 6:31 is shown on his clock. This is due to the fact that his alarm is on his phone and set to 6:30. But his phone is one minute slower than his clock. But nevermind this at all, he sets his phone timer to 29 minutes, as this is all he will allow himself to sleep in, and climbs back up to his top bunk. He admires his portrait and then dozes off to thoughts of a person he will see in a couple of hours. His in-head bliss is smashed by the sound of an electronic bell sample. His 29 minutes are up. The clock now reads 7:00. He was dreaming too well to wake up now, so in his half-sleep, he sets himself ten more minutes. Once again, the timer wakes the boy. 7:10. By 7:16 he jumps out of bed and applies his deodorant liberally, hoping it will be noticed. Now in his sport uniform, he has two minutes to leave the house. "Food isn't important." he thinks and goes to brush his teeth. Then he sets his iPod to blast various Norwegian bands into his willing ears. He then grabs a pair of socks, stuffs it in his shoe and dashes outside. He rushes up the street to Pennant Hills Rd, ignoring anything sharp or of questionable texture that he steps on with his bare feet. He runs a close call into the middle of the busy road, and the bus pulls up to the bus stop just metres away from where he's standing.
The children have nearly all filed into the 781 and Christopher still sees no gaps in the traffic. Then as the bus doors almost close on him, one particular white car slows down for him and blinks his lights to indicate Chris' right to cross. Having no time to thank the driver or even look at them, he speeds across the road and onto the bus, giving him/her a mind kiss along the way. He takes a seat next to J. Kao as there are people missing on Wednesdays. He curses the recent early-comings of the 781 with her and then settles and turns up his music. By the next bus stop he remembers that he still needs to put on his shoes, so he does so.
Upon arrival at school, his iPod is still on and Sigøynerblod is playing. He dances around in the quadrangle to this upbeat piece. His peers think it is ridiculous. It is then when Christopher realises that he is the only one who can hear the music and calms down. Yeah, Christopher Gong, the weird guy who dances too much. And quite poorly too. Many people just see him as a way to get a quick thrill or a cheap laugh, and he enjoys giving it. But until late last year, thats ALL he was. Anyway, after a few more minutes of being antisocial, he switches off his iPod and joins the conversation.
The 8:38 bell which marks the beginning of the school day rings and Christopher rushes off to roll call after giving R. Lee a handwriting sample. At roll call he meets a sight for sore eyes, and laughs at how pathetic he is. His eyes are sore for them after only hours of separation. The roll marked, he moves off to Geography followed by PD. After a video about Australian Fauna and love confessions from L. Pavich, recess begins. Christopher, by the way is a scabby scabface, and he knows it and is told it. His stomach a fifth filled by scabbed food, he moves off to Woodwork, confused at where the Photography students are going. He cuts out his tray's legs and helps SFVMcB 'penetrate' in this period. When the bell rings, he rushes out and throught the back of the TLC to his Maths period in an art room. No, he's not keen on Maths, but he is on the Photography students. When he gets there, he realises that they went somewhere else, so he goes to Maths. He finishes not listening to Mr. McFadden and walks out to lunch. He spends lunchtime in the G corridor chit-chatting with his mates.
Next is sport. Whether or not Walking would involve walking is up to the teacher and students. Christopher, being the energetic young go-getter he is, expresses his desire to walk despite the ominous weather. Pity is that he was the only one of his kind in his group, so when the teacher decides that they would be walking, he could hear and feel the hate radiating off the bodies of his peers. The group reaches their destination of Stockland shopping mall in Baulkham Hills through a complex of side streets. Being the scabby scabface he is with many nice friends, he manages to alleviate his hunger with Choc Chip cookies, lamingtons and Cola. Upon Christopher's group's arrival back at school, he and his friends migrate to the unoccupied drama room to have some form of mixed social. Music is practised, playful frolicking is happening. An abrupt stop to this festival of Year 9s is seen to by Mr. Hopper. All the students pace out of the room quicker than expected. That eccentric Art teacher can be threatening at times.
After a few minutes spent outside, Christopher catches his bus, the 772. Luckily for him, the bus is only half filled when he boards, unlike on other occasions. He takes a seat next to a good friend of his and he and she enjoy the ride home. His bus stop comes by and he steps off the bus and walks home. He is already exhausted and thinks about the holidays, when sometimes this is the time he gets out of bed to start the day.
Now Christopher is at home and already misses her.
He is now laughing at how pathetic he is.
_______________________________________________________
I am Christopher Ben Gong.
It's about a boy called Christopher Gong.
He's a teenager in the high point of life. Any more excitement in his life would cause a chemical reaction that will cause him to explode into bite-sized cubes. So he goes to school and he's in Year 9. I think he would say that its been his best year ever. The lowest of lows will be followed by the highest of highs. ALWAYS. Think about it.
Anyway, in the morning he wakes up. 6:31 is shown on his clock. This is due to the fact that his alarm is on his phone and set to 6:30. But his phone is one minute slower than his clock. But nevermind this at all, he sets his phone timer to 29 minutes, as this is all he will allow himself to sleep in, and climbs back up to his top bunk. He admires his portrait and then dozes off to thoughts of a person he will see in a couple of hours. His in-head bliss is smashed by the sound of an electronic bell sample. His 29 minutes are up. The clock now reads 7:00. He was dreaming too well to wake up now, so in his half-sleep, he sets himself ten more minutes. Once again, the timer wakes the boy. 7:10. By 7:16 he jumps out of bed and applies his deodorant liberally, hoping it will be noticed. Now in his sport uniform, he has two minutes to leave the house. "Food isn't important." he thinks and goes to brush his teeth. Then he sets his iPod to blast various Norwegian bands into his willing ears. He then grabs a pair of socks, stuffs it in his shoe and dashes outside. He rushes up the street to Pennant Hills Rd, ignoring anything sharp or of questionable texture that he steps on with his bare feet. He runs a close call into the middle of the busy road, and the bus pulls up to the bus stop just metres away from where he's standing.
The children have nearly all filed into the 781 and Christopher still sees no gaps in the traffic. Then as the bus doors almost close on him, one particular white car slows down for him and blinks his lights to indicate Chris' right to cross. Having no time to thank the driver or even look at them, he speeds across the road and onto the bus, giving him/her a mind kiss along the way. He takes a seat next to J. Kao as there are people missing on Wednesdays. He curses the recent early-comings of the 781 with her and then settles and turns up his music. By the next bus stop he remembers that he still needs to put on his shoes, so he does so.
Upon arrival at school, his iPod is still on and Sigøynerblod is playing. He dances around in the quadrangle to this upbeat piece. His peers think it is ridiculous. It is then when Christopher realises that he is the only one who can hear the music and calms down. Yeah, Christopher Gong, the weird guy who dances too much. And quite poorly too. Many people just see him as a way to get a quick thrill or a cheap laugh, and he enjoys giving it. But until late last year, thats ALL he was. Anyway, after a few more minutes of being antisocial, he switches off his iPod and joins the conversation.
The 8:38 bell which marks the beginning of the school day rings and Christopher rushes off to roll call after giving R. Lee a handwriting sample. At roll call he meets a sight for sore eyes, and laughs at how pathetic he is. His eyes are sore for them after only hours of separation. The roll marked, he moves off to Geography followed by PD. After a video about Australian Fauna and love confessions from L. Pavich, recess begins. Christopher, by the way is a scabby scabface, and he knows it and is told it. His stomach a fifth filled by scabbed food, he moves off to Woodwork, confused at where the Photography students are going. He cuts out his tray's legs and helps SFVMcB 'penetrate' in this period. When the bell rings, he rushes out and throught the back of the TLC to his Maths period in an art room. No, he's not keen on Maths, but he is on the Photography students. When he gets there, he realises that they went somewhere else, so he goes to Maths. He finishes not listening to Mr. McFadden and walks out to lunch. He spends lunchtime in the G corridor chit-chatting with his mates.
Next is sport. Whether or not Walking would involve walking is up to the teacher and students. Christopher, being the energetic young go-getter he is, expresses his desire to walk despite the ominous weather. Pity is that he was the only one of his kind in his group, so when the teacher decides that they would be walking, he could hear and feel the hate radiating off the bodies of his peers. The group reaches their destination of Stockland shopping mall in Baulkham Hills through a complex of side streets. Being the scabby scabface he is with many nice friends, he manages to alleviate his hunger with Choc Chip cookies, lamingtons and Cola. Upon Christopher's group's arrival back at school, he and his friends migrate to the unoccupied drama room to have some form of mixed social. Music is practised, playful frolicking is happening. An abrupt stop to this festival of Year 9s is seen to by Mr. Hopper. All the students pace out of the room quicker than expected. That eccentric Art teacher can be threatening at times.
After a few minutes spent outside, Christopher catches his bus, the 772. Luckily for him, the bus is only half filled when he boards, unlike on other occasions. He takes a seat next to a good friend of his and he and she enjoy the ride home. His bus stop comes by and he steps off the bus and walks home. He is already exhausted and thinks about the holidays, when sometimes this is the time he gets out of bed to start the day.
Now Christopher is at home and already misses her.
He is now laughing at how pathetic he is.
_______________________________________________________
I am Christopher Ben Gong.
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