I am staring at you. I get back a stare that is even more blank than the I provided. So I begin to experiment with some of the buttons. I tried unsuccessfully to upload pictures on this page. try. Try
Try again.
Same error message appears everytime. I hear an interesting lyrics. Your faith was strong but you needed proof. You saw her Bathing on the roof. hmmm interesting. She tied you to the kitchen chair , she took your throne she cut your hair and from your lips she drew the hallelujah! Now, today was an escape from the everyday ever so familiar routine of mine. I am making the testtubes ornaments again. Now it is for Irwin, whose birthday is just a week away. With prior experience, I am adding stuff like glitters and colored gel into the testtubes. Somehow the appearance still fall short of the clear and crystal like quality I would like to see. Went singing today. Nothing spectacular. Bought a CD today. Just as mundane and boring. Oh boy, recently i am making people who chance upon moi bloggy nauseated. Surely any one would be if they read about stuff like my daily itinery . I am commiting a cardinal sin. Forgive me who ever is out there. Back to using the same old black ink. Again I wonder how many people actually read this blog of mine. Why bother. If I had a more interesting life, I would be parading on TV and having my own reality show. Instead of being cooped up at home in front of my Computer. Trying to busy myself by doing what I am doing now. Come to think of it. Life is not that boring. Life is almost a bitch. This year, as had been with previousyears, has been filled with small and big, unpleasant and wondeful surprises. After all, how many people meet a gay, a raving guy raring to commit suicide and a fire in the same year. Speaking of fire, I had actually put it out. Regreted it. And almost was tempted to re-ignite that SOB..and take pictures with it. Of course moi rational mind.. which always take charge stop me. In the end I had pictures taken with the ashes and burnt plastics. Hope my friend pass me the pictures soon. Oh ok . I just realised what I had so much wanted to write about. What do people think of me. I have always been the guy in the limelight. If there were no limelight in the first place, I would have stolen it from another place and have myself placed in front it. A megaloegoist... perhaps at the very core of myself. In primary school, I was quite obnoxious. The whole class hated me . and I wonder why. I was after all so chubby and cute. Perhaps they were all jealous of my symbolic body mass. Starting from Pri 1, I had ACCIdentally Swung my water bottle's strap ... ok the strap was not swung accidentally. I was mimicking a cowboy and his rope. Then it had connected with the lips of this smal indian boy who happend to be my classmate or at least I thought he was. It was during recess and we were just playing. I had not noticed him. I guess some thought of me as a racist asshole and my teacher called down my mum. I had not even had the water bottle attached to the strap... oh man. How unbelievable! Another time.. or rather many times, I was late for school. Often I would wait opposite sch. Bidding my time. Till flag raising and school song are done. then make my way to class when the coast in clear. Sometimes when I decided to do the right thing by admitting to the prefects, My name was taken down. It took them six times because I was summoned to the prefect master. That chap threatened to expel me. Put it nicely, he wanted to transfer me to a school near moi house. First and only time i was scared to tears in front of strangers. Of coz looking back, it was merely an empty threat to make me come on time. I was so distraughted when i made my way to class that I did not talk to any one fo rthe rest of the day. after that, i was punctual most of the time. if i woke up late, then it would be MC automatically. Even till JC i was still waking up late pretty much most of the time. Guess I am the only one who had ot write an essay on why am i late. Boy it was an extremely hilarious essay that put the whole blame on the education system, the television cooperation of singapore and my faulty alarm clock. Somewhere I had even managed to point the fingers at my forefathers. Claiming that if research had been carried out to determine the cause of sound-arm-extension reflex syndrome, most probably fingers would be pointing at genetic inheritance. Ok let me explain. Sound travels at the speed of 330metres per second in a vaccum. In denser object, it is faster. In air it is about hte same value. An alarm clock converts chemical potential energy into kinetic energy as demostrated by the moving hands of the clock. Then if you press this oval button at the top of the clock, and push this red needle to a certain time, the alarm will make an awfully blood curling sound when the hour and needle hand coincides with the red needle. It still makes me cringe when I pass by clock shops. Our ear detects sound by the vibration air particles make on the ear drum . Then it travels through several bones and a few compartment of liquids. Finally reaching a nerve which is stimulated by the vibrations of the fluid and a nerve impulse is set off. The tone and quality of the sound is turned into rate and number of nerve firings . So our brain interprets the impulse and decides that we should wake up and set our affairs in order. Somehow we get reminded that our sleep is over and it is time to start to freshen up to prepare fo tthe long day ahead. in the even of a genetic mutation, the actions upon receiving the impulse would be totally different. in a bid to converse energy, people like me conviniently reach out our arms. At this point,, we would have developed hyper kinetic sensitivity. Without opening the eyes, our hands and arms can radiate a kind of sensory waves that communicate the location of the clock to us. And blam! our hand just tap on that oval button on top of the clock and by some spring mechanism hithero unknown to me, the oval button gets higher. and the clock 's sound died in its throat. Some people are born fat, no matter ho wthey try to cut down on their diet, increase their muscular acitvities, blubbers just accumulate in their adipose tissues. Some are born with turner's syndrome. they are frisky, dry and under grown. hardly hits puberty natually. and I just repsonse poorly to alarm clocks. I should be sympathized with. rather than discriminated and be forced to write an essay citing the reasons of my tardiness. ok . I shall stop here. Tonight took an unexpected turn. I wish that I get my wish. Just let me have one chance.. if one is not enough.. perhaps 2. If it is insufficient, perhaps just let me have my wishes at will and I shall stop disturbing whoever is dishing out all the wishes! goodnightz