IM AMUSED.
IM SUPER AMUSED.
FORMAL CONVO IS LIKE.
THE MOST AMUSING THING IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD.

quote from zoe's blog :

yesterday we had trng.then we had to bisai without warming up.so i was first.XP then after i came down,BOB asked us to check our pulse rates?!?! LOL.he wanted to see if we were scared. XD [of cos we are,like who isnt?]

anyway,thus,the "rescue team" was formed,comprising of qiaohui and minyi.HAHA.it was super funny.cos everytime someone came down from the tramp then we wud go :"go,rescue team,go!" then they will like chiong to the person and put their hand on the person's neck and count the pulse for 10 secs.then times 6.then BOB saw them and he was like:"ehh. ni men xiang qia si ta ah?" [r u trying to strangle her] cos it was like 2 ppl checking the pulse. LOL.

then after trng the seniors went to see the vp to ask if we cud be let off earlier on tue and wed.but the ______ vp was like NONONONONO. ask ur teacher in charge to see me. argh. so toots. ><

okay,then livia and i had a formal meeting on msn with greenyellow.FORMAL LOL.i shall post it:

livia.super pissed says:hello
livia.super pissed says:green bean
livia.super pissed says:this is an official meeting
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:LOL
livia.super pissed says:zo
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:?
livia.super pissed says:no lol-ing during official meetings
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:fine
livia.super pissed says:laugh discreetly
livia.super pissed says:so green bean
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:orh
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:let's speak professionally
livia.super pissed says:yes
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:HOW TO SACK THE VP!!?!!?
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:awwww
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:I LIKE LOL's
livia.super pissed says:since it's chimeology week
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:sure
livia.super pissed says:green bean
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:may i know who tessa is pl
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:please*
livia.super pissed says:tessa bear
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:is she amongst those competiting?
livia.super pissed says:is our ultra smart and cute junior
livia.super pissed says:no
livia.super pissed says:she's not
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:may we enquire on how many people or there in the sji gym please
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:as in those who are competeing
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:ohh
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:i see
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:Yes
livia.super pissed says:give us the names please
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:there are twelve of us in total
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:including the reserves
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:shall i send you a list?
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:okay.may we please have the names?
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:yes
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:hold on a minute
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:okay.thank you very much.
livia.super pissed says:yes our dearest appreciation
livia.super pissed says:zo
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:?
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:this is an official meeting,mind you.
livia.super pissed says:i'm sorry
livia.super pissed says:miss zoe chai
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:yes,miss livia yap?
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:...
livia.super pissed says:dotting is not allowed mr chan qing huang?
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:MY APOLOGIES
livia.super pissed says:you are forgiven
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:may we have the list of names please?
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:if you'd kindly send it to us.
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:yes
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:i have already sent it to
livia.super pissed says:he has sent it to me
livia.super pissed says:ahh
livia.super pissed says:let's add mr nathenial
livia.super pissed says:natheniel
livia.super pissed says:how do you spell his name?
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:this is a conference conversation window
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:files cant be sent
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:oh yes it can,mr chan qing huang
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:refer to the list if you please

//screw the nanyang principal.wat a bit**!!!! has been added to the conversation.//

COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:welcome~
livia.super pissed says:i have the list miss chai
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:can you send it over to me please,miss yap?
livia.super pissed says:sure thing miss chai
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:nope
livia.super pissed says:then we can analyse their funny names
screw the nanyang principal.wat a bit**!!!! says:HUH
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:okay
livia.super pissed says:done?
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:yes,miss yap
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:[omg the principal]
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:anyway.this is an official meeting.
livia.super pissed says:chan qing huang
livia.super pissed says:don't you think that's an odd name miss chai?
COMPS~OMGG.I HATE NY!!>=( says:i agree with you,miss yap.
livia.super pissed says:on to the next one
livia.super pissed says:please type it out miss chai
tgy >the emails i do not want to see says:xiao
livia.super pissed says:mr chan
livia.super pissed says:i'm appalled"

THERE.
ISNT IT AMUSING!! ;D

and THENNNNN.
as im too lazy to type it out nowadays you see.
QUOTE FROM LIV'S BLOG!

jeanne and i came up with a back up plan for gym!
in case our principal doesn't agree
we willllllllllllllll

BUILD WANG A GYM!!!

jeanne and some of the seniors can be the roof constructors!
then the rest of us will
mix cement
stack up bricks
and what not

then we will join comps
as the proud gymnasts of
AH WANG GYM!!

who will dominate comps year after year!
:D

then for cca
all of us will create a NERD CLUB!!
:D

SOME STORY THAT I CAN'T REMEMBER THE TITLE OF BUT IT ALWAYS MAKE ME CRY ANYWAY

Their screams clawed their way through the small cracks in the door, through the thin coating of paint on the walls, and the thick head phones that had been blaring music for the past half hour. A fist slammed into the bedroom wall from the kitchen; plates were being thrown through the air, colliding with windows and cabinets, shattering to a thousand pieces, crumbling to the tiled floor like the once happy family that inhabited the broken home. Words dripping with poison were thrown across the room, only to be repelled by words that exacerbate their original meanings.

I squeezed my eyes shut, warm tears rolling down my cheeks. I wanted all of this to end; I wanted it all to be over. They had been like this for about a year now, arguing about trivial things such as swimming lessons for Emily, the dog once again getting into the trash, Dad working over time to pay taxes. I was amazed at how flustered they could get over such diminutive things that really had no reason to be argued against: Emily was running on eight, and had been wanting lessons ever since she first saw the Summer Olympics; our dog hadn't been fed, and was in dire need of food; taxes needed to be paid. If the price for staying in a home for one more month was a few extra hours at work, so be it.

At first, I have to admit that I was afraid of the arguments, of what they would lead to. But now, the only thing I felt was anger. I was absolutely infuriated. How could they do this to me? Not just me, how could they do this to Emily? I was seventeen, soon to be graduating. But Emily, Emily would still be in school for years to come. This had already traumatized her. Imagine her after ten years of this upheaval. And it wasn't just the fact that Emily had to witness it, it wasn't just the fact that they would hit and scream and yell right in front of her innocent hazel eyes. It was the asininity of it all: There was no reason to argue. It seemed as if they did it because after twenty years, tiring of each other's company, the only way they could possibly tell the other how much they really despised them was by yelling over the fact that the chicken was too cold, or that no one had bothered to vacuum the front room when company was visiting. That it was a subconscious desire to be rid of them, or maybe test the other to see when they'll break. I thought that maybe it was the rush they were addicted to: The adrenaline pumping through your veins, your temples pounding as your voice raised another octave. At first I guessed that maybe sex was an issue. But I came to learn that even if that were the case, they apparently still had other people on the side who would fill them of that need, and last I knew, neither my mother nor father had known that the other was committing adultery. Maybe they had just assumed, and were waiting for the other one to admit to his or her crime. Maybe it was a battle of will: How long can you last before giving in?

Eventually, I began to see the essence of the arguments. Underneath the outer layer, underneath the petty battles between words and insults, an evil hatred was brewing, slowly boiling to the surface. Night after night of huddling under my sheets, holding Emily close to me, my hands clamped around her ears trying to block out the screams, I found myself straining to hear the next sentence that would spill out of my parent's mouths. A pattern arose in their arguments. The main topics of their battles were meaningless and inconsequential, but I began to understand the core of the arguments. I began to understand what exactly it was that they were so unhappy about.

My mother, all these years, had been playing a faade. My mother, who took me to art festivals; who held me as I cried into her shoulder after my first heart break; who got me interested in reading; the woman who pushed me out of her womb, was simply unhappy. She despised the arid routine of her life - waking up, going to work, coming home, making dinner, going to bed, and then starting all over again. She was unsatisfied with her job, her husband no longer made her feel like the woman she once was, she had to wear a mask around her friends. It made me wonder: Was she unsatisfied with us? Did she no longer love her family, and her children? I would stay awake late into the night speculating, and most nights, I would end up silently crying myself to sleep. I felt as I was a mistake to her. She would be happier without us, she would be happier without her children. She would be happier without me.

I flinched as another fist collided with the wall, behind it residing the kitchen where my parents stood. I ripped the head phones off of my head, and turned to glare maliciously at the wall dividing my room from their battlefield. A small knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and my features instantly softened. Emily.

I opened it slowly, my eyes burning from holding back angry tears. Mom and Dad's voices roared out from the kitchen door. "It's late," I said softly. Her eyes were locked onto the small, worn out bunny that her hands were occupied with ringing out; I could tell she had been crying. I opened the door wider for her to enter, and embraced her, burying my face into her shoulder. She began crying violently, her body racking with sorrow. I tightened my grip on her, and swallowed the ever-lasting lump that had been growing in my throat since the arguing began so long ago. Carrying her over to my bed, my body shook with rage. I tucked her in, kissed her goodnight, and walked out into the hallway. The voices rose with each step I took.

"- You haven't been home for nearly a month; your children don't even know you!"

Another step closer.

"I have a job Janine! Do you want a house to live in? That's my job. To make sure we have a roof over our heads!"

Another step.

"Your family needs you! We have the money; you need to worry about what's right in front of you!"

Another step and I was at the door. I could see their looming shadows, faces inches from each other. I stepped into the kitchen light; they were too engrossed in their own debate that they hadn't even noticed.

"I need to? What about you! What about -"

"Enough!" I bellowed, capturing their attention. The adrenaline was running through my veins, I could barely contain myself. My breaths came out loud and quickly I was so nervous. "Your other child is trying to sleep! If you haven't noticed, she hasn't had a good night's rest in over a month! If you two would stop your bitching you'd noticed that your so called family is falling apart!" I had so much to say, so much, and all I could think of was telling them to be quiet so Emily could sleep.

Mom was chewing on her lower lip, eyes cast downward. Dad's mouth was a tight line. I turned my head from one to the other, eyes ablaze. My father was the first to speak, in that annoyingly calm fashion adults use when they're unimaginably angry, but strongly want you to leave. "Sarah, you're not a part of this, go back -"

"As long as I'm a part of this family, I have every right to stand here!" I screamed. My fists were balled up, and my whole body was cramping from how tense I had become. "You two have been at each other's throats for a year now! Either settle your differences now, or get a divorce already! We don't need this! Emily doesn't need this! You're both so selfish! How do you think we feel? How do you think we've been doing, hearing you two insult each other every single night? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to know that our family is broken? We used to be happy. What happened?" My voice cracked as tears stung my eyes, rolling down my cheeks leaving a salty taste in my mouth. My nose had begun running and my body racked with emotion; I had to calm myself down before I could speak again. "What happened to us?!" I screamed, stomping my foot and flailing my arms.

Both of them had their eyes to the ground. After an eternity of silence, my mother brought her gaze up to meet mine. They were filled with pain and regret. I could barely keep eye contact with her. Life seemed to go in slow motion as she turned away and walked out of the kitchen. As she passed, neither one of us looked at each other. I was focused on the cupboard behind where her head previously was. I shut my eyes tightly as I heard the front door open and close.

I felt arms wrap around me, and collapsed against my father's chest. He just held me as I lay limp in his arms, crying away my pain. I had never cried so hard in my life, and I couldn't handle any of it. As the night ticked away, I eventually cried myself to sleep, awakening in the morning to find that my mother had not returned.

I never saw her again.
I never got the chance to ask my mother why exactly it was she decided to leave; why exactly she just gave up. I never saw her try to pursue happiness while still having a family. Maybe happiness just wasn't a liable option if she had tried to stay. I remember the pain of the aftermath, and the several years it took for me to stop hating my mother for her decision. We had grown so distant in the year that my parents began arguing. I never got a chance to say goodbye. I never got a chance to say I Love You one last time. Maybe she never wanted me to. Maybe it would have hurt her too much. Maybe she wouldn't have been able to handle it. I just hope that she was able to finally find happiness, and peace within her soul.

THUMBSUCKER

It all started when I was two. I had been the biggest thumb sucker known in the world of Toddlers. And that wasn't okay with my ever critical parents. They would put vile smelling and tasting things on my thumb so that everytime that reassuring thumb entered my mouth it was quickly detracted. Well, eventually my toddler self had decided that perhaps giving up this habbit, no, not a habbit, it was more like my only security in a world where there was none. And I had decided to give it up, for whatever reasons a two year old decides to give up such things. Ofcourse now I see that it was for the best because, well, thumb sucking, though very comforting to a child, can cause many problems with your teeth later on, and that would not of been attractive at all.

After my thumb, my very dependant personality, began to cling onto a particular baby blue and white checkered blanket. I was seven then and carried my "Bankie" everywhere with me. Yes Bankie, which was a form of the word blankie, minus the "L" because I was one of those children who tended to ignore certain letters in certain words, another thing my parents did not approve of. I had taken up Bankie after realizing that it had so many good uses: hiding from people when you don't want to be found, snuggling, a bundle of warmth in cold weather, but most importantly it was my security. After taking it to school with me and being made fun of atrociously about it, because let's face it, children are mean spirited, my parents had had enough of Bankie. They gave me an ultimatum. Yes, my parents gave me, their seven year old daughter, an ultimatum. They said :

"Give up Bankie willingly and we'll make sure he finds a good home where he's safe, if you don't we'll take him away from you and he (yes he, my Bankie was a he) will be burned." So as I watched my father drop off my precious Bankie into the back of some large truck I tried desperately not to cry. My mother wasn't one for water works and the few rare times I had cried I had been punished. Ofcourse I now see that it was for the best because children with security blankets can become too dependent on them to the point of mental instability.

At the age of fifteen I was unlike all the other girls my age. My body had still not hit puberty and so I might have been fifteen, but my physical appearance suggested younger, perhaps eleven. This was not only not okay with my parents, but it was also highly amusing to practically everyone in my school who found it worth their time to pay attention to me, whether that attention was negative or positive, though mostly negative. And so, in trying to escape the world of the taunted I pushed all my time into something that gave me comfort, the piano. I had been taking piano lessons, which were forced upon me by my mother, since age ten, and now, I was very good at it. Piano playing was all I did when I was home. It let me escape the world of disappointed parents and ever judging teenagers and enter a world where nothing mattered except the flow of the music. It was all I needed. Incase you haven't noticed yet, my parents don't quite care for me. Well, not in a way that a parent should care for their child. Not that their is one right way to care for your child, but there are many wrong ways, and my parents had chosen one. My mother, who wanted to live vicariously through me and so tried to mold me into a mini version of herself, wanted me to be a dancer. A ballerina. But I have the grace and elegance of a hippopotamus on stilts. Needless to say I will always be nothing more than a let down in her book. My father, who was a brain surgeon and too self involved to notice anything around him, didn't really care what I did as long as I didn't get in his way. He did, however, force me to study continuously, made me take all advanced classes, force unwanted after school activities on me, and made sure that I knew I would have no support from him or my mother if I ever trailed off this path he had already set me on. But back to my point, my piano and the escape it provided. If you assumed that my parents took that away from me as well, then you are correct. Yes, they did. They said it was taking up too much of my time which should have been spent involved in school and study...and dancing was also stuck in there by my mother later on. Ofcourse now I see that it was for the best because quiting the piano let me throw myself into my studies, which would inventually lead to me having a very successful and high paying career.

Everything in my life that had held any meaning had been taken away from me, well, technically I had voluntarily given them up, or so my parents would have said. It had formed this mind set inside of me, a set of...rules I guess you could call it, and it had also turned me into a very independant and solitary person. It was actually just one rule: I don't need anything or anybody. That was it. That was what my parents had created. And so, all through high school I was a loner, a brilliant, perceptive, youth with a feisty no nonsense attitude towards everything and everybody. And that would inevitably be my downfall.

It was my last year of high school, I was finally a Senior, and I couldn't have been happier about it. Soon I would be out of the school I hated and onto the next stage of my life, College, and most importantly, away from my parents. It was October when he arrived on the grounds of my school. October 21st to be precise. His name was Kyle Macintyre and he was beautiful. Kyle was one of those boys who could of easily chosen the path of the Populars, for he was physically breathtaking. Messy blonde hair that went every which way, vivid baby blue eyes that made anyone who looked at him want to smile or giggle. He was tall, maybe 5'11", lean and tan because he had been into surfing when he had resided in California before here. And not only was Kyle an eleven on a scale from one to ten when it came to looks, but he seemed to be gifted in practically everything. He was a genius, in all my advanced classes, and surpassed everyone when it came to grades. He was musically able for he new how to play almost every instrument, though he was best with guitar, and could reach notes most of the kids in Choir couldn't even hit. He was physically fit and was immediately begged by all the sport teams in our school to join them, though he ended up joining only Track because, as he put it simply once -

"I fucking love to run." And he had some astonishing skills when it came to Art, he even won Best Painting for the portrait he did for the Art Festival. I still have that portrait. Kyle was not only the first boy I had ever met who I found attractive, but also the first boy who had ever bothered to pay attention to me. You can imagine the shock everyone expirienced, including me, when he decided infact to not follow the road to Popularity and instead choose to befriend a certain oddball outcast. That's right, Kyle had chosen me to be his friend. Ofcourse, because Kyle was, well, Kyle, he was still befriended by practically everyone in the school, but he always said that I was the only -

"person who I'm going to still be friends with after High School. You're the only one who's worth it." That had meant a lot to me. Kyle was my best friend, my first best friend, and my only friend. The thing that happened that February of our Senior year was expected and inevitable really. It was Valentines Day and Kyle had already turned down countless amounts of girls who had wanted him to take them out that day. And why had he turned them all down? Because he had told me in January that he would take me out. This should of bothered me, this act which I knew had grown out of pity for me because he knew I would spend this day alone. But, oddly enough, it didn't. I found that I was relieved that he was taking me out because that meant that there wasn't a certain someone in his life that he adored more than me. That meant that I could still keep him to myself and not share him with any other girl. That thought, the sharing him one, scared me to death. I had bought a little black dress, it had thick straps that went around my neck in a halter like fashion and displayed a good portion of my back and shoulders. It went to just above my knees at which point it swayed out and moved about very teasingly. And around my waist and chest area it was super snug, it showed off what I hadn't ever shown off, my, actually quite thin and curveless, body. My mother, because she had thought me a lesbian before all this, was thrilled to find out I had a date for V-Day and so had gone all out to make sure I looked perfect. My long, usually straight, dark brown hair had been trimmed, layered, and curled. My pale white skin had been placed in a tub of rose scented water and left to soak until I resembled a raisin. My rather plain round face had been totally made up, my light brown eyes traced with smokey black liner, my small lips plumped up with pale pink lipstick, and my blushless cheeks touched up with a shimmery rose pink. I looked unlike myself. And I prayed to God that Kyle would approve.

"Jules! Your date is here!" My mother had come squealing into my room that day, her eyes lit up with excitement and a look of pride I had never seen before on her face.

"He is very attractive Jules, I didn't know he would be." She had said while smoothing down my hair. I had let a small smile tug at my lips before grabbing my jacket and heading down my stairs. At the doorway stood Kyle, in black slacks and matching black blazer, a tight dark blue band shirt underneath to make it less formal, though he still looked amazing. He and my father had been talking about Colleges is what it had sounded like, but the sound of my own heart beat in my ears didn't allow me to hear further. His eye caught my motion as I came down the stairs and he looked shocked, or surprised, something along the lines of not expecting me to look the way I did. And I smiled. We had gone to dinner at some French restaurant, and then to a Roller Skating Rink where I spent most of the time falling on my butt or clinging onto Kyle. It had been the most fun I had ever experienced. We were sitting infront of my house in his black 1998 Corvette when he turned to me with a smile I couldn't place. He said -

"Jules. I have a confession." Before I could ask him what it was his hand had moved to the back of my neck and pulled me foward. My first kiss. I had sat motionless for a few seconds before closing my eyes and letting him coax my lips into moving with his. I'm not sure how long it had lasted, I wasn't paying attention to that, all I knew was this was the best feeling in the world and I wanted it to last forever. From that day on Kyle and I had become a couple. He was my first boyfriend and he was the only person who meant anything to me at all. I knew the people at school were just as confused as I was as to why Kyle liked me. I mean, he was beautiful, fun, exciting, cool, kind, intelligent, everything everyone wanted. And me, well I was too plain, odd, quiet, reserved, and the girl no one had ever noticed until now. But I didn't care. I loved Kyle. Yes, I loved him.

The end of school was nearing. College was coming up fast and I was going to an out of state College, in New York to be precise. It wasn't my school of choice, it was my father's. Kyle wanted to go to Washington. We would be so far away from each other. Kyle wanted me to go with him. He said I didn't need my parent's support or money. My father said I could go with Kyle, but that he would not give me a dime, and that he would take away my car, and everything he had ever bought for me. But it would be my mother who would tip the balance for me. She had come into my room one night, sat on my bed with me while I was finishing up homework, and had begun, to my great shock, to gently stroke my hair.

"Jules...my little Jules. You know he'll never stay with you...you're not pretty enough darling. You must do what is best for you and your future. Boys are fickle. He'll tire of you and then it will be too late to return to your father's offer of supporting you through college. Think about that Jules before you put your life in this ...child's hands." She had been so sincere...so honest, and I was still very young, so naive. So, like so many times before, I was faced with an ultimatum. A moment of happiness with Kyle or a promising future in New York.

I don't need anything or anybody."

THERE.
LIVIA!!
having a nerd club is NOT NICE. o.O
AND AH WANG CLUB SOUNDS BENGBENGBENG! ><"

AND I'VE POSTED.
YOU TAG NOW! ;D

and qiaohui is feeling high.