Alas! My long overdue blog entry is sadly also the bearer of grave news. Due to the enlargement of the All Seeing Eye, this blog has decided to commit suicide in ten days time.
A feeble and much weakened spirit will continue to hold the reins at
http://tsusmagne.eponym.com/blog
Best Blogs Bid Byes
after the emotional upheaval of the A levels, me makereenas, virtuous, seet, lays, youzees, ngins and the lio twins went for a lil' fun at modestos.
not before stoppin by at forum's toy r us which is great and excitin cos i got ter try the mini skates and play a lil fussball with makeries,not to mention gettin alil head start with high stakes at a jackpot machines..wowees..and we also got to jab each other with lightsabres (of course mak lost terribly) and i became darth vader.
I like being a kid. but i hate teenagers.
teenagers are like gross lowly human lifeforms that traditionally exhibit individuality by appearin to grapple forever with anger over trivial issues like personal space and the like. and they are like easily combustible pockets of air that ignite with the slightest spark with no prior warnin using the mass destruction weapon known as angst.god.
i used to be against that 11 pm ban on under 17s but now i so totally second it after readin the nonsense retarded teens get up to after 11. overturning rubbish bins with louds whoops and satisfied smirks struck me as being one the most retarded things sane human beings can actually do. unless of course you are overturning bins with telekinesis, which doesnt make u retarded but more so a freak; otherwise overturnin bins is simply spiteful nonsensical and just. retarded.
and even more retarded are the ones that accuse each other of starin at each other and going to stair cases and dark corners which usually ends in robbery or some ribs gettin punched, which makes you question why these victims even followed retarded ppl to these places in the first place. must be a case of the retarded leadin the retarded.
these very retarded souls make the streets dangerous for less retarded teens who are tryin to get smarter and get outta the retarded-teen zone.
and teen gangs. dont get me started. these retarded mutual proclaimation of "love me love me" and proceed to bash less-retarded-innocent teens up surely must be a distress call for want of a life. wo men si brother. gee, can anything be less retarded than some kinda bond and fellowship between retarded riff raffs.
and see here; they make me waste time that i could be watchin tv with bloggin about their retarded ways, which kinda makes me retarded in a way, and make me spend time commentin on how them when i should also be askin myself "DONT i HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO than blog about retards teens?"
gosh am i gettin older or what.
hey all, Im anti -tsus. as can be observed from my name, i bear the anti characteristic of tsus.
i was talkin on msn that day to anti mak and gosh were we bitchin non stop about mak and tsus. (gosh i hope tsus doesnt read this)
anyways, we were both rather depressed; anti mak got rejected by cambridge and was pretty peeved at mak, since shes pretty sure she stole her place. and ima kinda pissed out bout my weight.
anti mak's pretty certain she's gonna get 4Fs while her evil twin gets to bask in all that glory once again. Well i tell her, thats life, and what do ya know; she turns around and tells me to shuddup-since-i-got-a-math-olympic-gold-anyway and can go to the tuck school of business in dartmouth and have a startin salary of 30000 whilst being on msn the whole day. but shes kinda right, im gonna get 4as anyway.
well then i tried ter cheer her up you know, sayin that its not as if mak hasnt got problems of hr own, she has loads of boy problems and i tell her sternly, "Anti mak, you best be thankin ur lucky stars that ur les and dont hafter cope with that. and why dont u get off ur ass and lets star in own our handphone video as two les geographers who "discover new frontieres" ala brokeback. " of course anti mak 's all i-dont-know-it-mak-would-like-it-kinda-thing and i got pissed off and tell her to become her own person. thats when she got scared at being more than a clever metaphor representin the opposite entities-manifestation of ML Mak, and bepissed herself, henceforth evaporatin in a puff of smoke.
thus it came to pass, that there was how the legions of the anti personas were wiped out in a single instant.
anti tsus
was watchin jar head with chels tt day when the trailer for Wolf creek came on. i thought it was a horror-kinda-ghost-boo-bloody-long-haired-chick-goo-crawlin-onthe-floor, but no. it was a hundred times more disturbin than that. it got me pretty intrigued so i went to wikipedia wolf creek and read the synopsis.
i wanted to just run away and pretend i never watched the trailer or read the synopsis before in my entire life. it was as though my consciousness couldnot reconcile such evils perverse kinda acts from my own species. it was unnervin. i wanted to projectile vomit and just close my mind against all possibilities that such things exist.
it such stuff like tt, that make you rather live in a bubble perfect world, rolling hills and green meadows, and refuse to accept the ubiquitous presence of primordial, bestial instincts in us.
this is beginnin to sound very joseph conrad.
but wolf creek is a terrible show. terrible because it brings to the surface alot of things that may be in us, that we have always refused to admit to.
it is a testimony to the flaws of mankind.
Reason and murder.
we are worse than animals
i have bad handphone karma. all my handphones have had tragic unfortunate deaths, or lost their sanity or were kidnapped and/or fell into the hands of many a cozening rogue. anyway, this entry laments their loss:
Handphone #1: NOKIA 3250, Lime Green. Purchased at the end of Secondary One. Promised to use it till University. Broke promise (DUH) and probably started the bad karma trend. Gave it away to my aunt. Not stricken by any illness mentioned above. I discriminated against it because of its weight.
Handphone #2: The Best of Times, The Worst of Times. Nokia 8250. Silver Purchased Mid Sec 2. Was still an infant at dermise. Drowned in a torrential South west monsoon as I attempted to run to the bus stop carring my duffel bag. I made it, but it didnt. Time of Death: Late Afternoon. Found body floatin in a pool of water accumulated in a water proof compartment of my bag. Clearly, the work of evil unknown forces here.
Handphone #3: Same Model after major refurbishments. Suffered a horrific gash to face when i smashed against some random table in moelc.It was never quite the same afterward.
Handphone #4: Same Model, nearing end of life. As though ashamed to face the world, it keeps enterin sporadic bouts of paralysis; and finally its will to live diminished and it blacked out for its last time...
Handphone #5: severely pissed off mumsies gave me a free Motorola Peanut phone. It had a hideous peanut-shaped cover initially (hence the term peanut phone) but i could not take it grotesque look any min longer and i swopped the peanutty wavy cover for a stylish topaz-brown colour and it resembled a chocolate bar. However, unike Man U, in this case, Class was Temporary Whilst Form was Forever; and it wasnt long before Peanut started to send and receive messages ten days late. Laid to rest after First Three Months, RJC.
Handphone #6: Samsung Clam Shell Phone. Never bothered remembering Model. pearly-white. Classy. resembles a clam shell (DUH) and gives out flashes of bright coloured beams at regular intervals. Affected joycies' concentration in math; and ClamShell could shine no more. It was sho cool. However, there was no happy ending. A mixture of John Sloman and Helen of troy (both blame each other) with a dash of MUGGIN for Promos, culminated in ClamShell being stolen in Cafe gailee at the Woodlands Library. Think library's the safest place on earth; well think again. Evil creeps hang around waitin to prey on unsuspecting J1 muggers, snatchin away handphones in one fell swoop. These evil sorts managed to flich Clamshell from under my nose, those asses. And sheesh i didnt even do very well for Promos.
Handphone #7: Clamshell 2 was entrusted in my care. But evil sorts struck again to deprive me and Clamshell 2 our everlasting felicity. I remember it like it was just yesterday. It was after the PSC Psychometric test and me and maks and gang were out to rj students fave hangout-before-they-have-nowhere-else-to-go: J8. Of course helen and sloman were there. It proved to be a costly decision. Withdrawing money from a DBS ATM, i left ClamShell atop the machine to place my monies into my purse. And i left. i walked about five metres before rememberin ClamShell's absence and ran back. only to see a vacuum space about where Clamshell half a min earlier had lain. i was shocked and distraught and mortified. But i collected myself enough to lodge a report at the Bank (which the ATMs belonged to), and they replied that the cameras "are under the jurisdiction fo cisco...blah blah.... not authorised to let me see...blah blah.." yeah whatever. cisco called me three weeks later and said there was a short circuit and hence no images were recorded at the time stipulated. RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRight. Well, pity, these things do happen every other day, now, do they? Bureaucrats. And yeah, dont yo know; its not safe unless its cisco safe. gee.
Handphone #8: Samsung Metallic Model. Shermies' fave phone. The phone TNP offers as an incentive if "your idea leads to a story". As usual i dont know the model.The phone's great and has no illness. I switched it with my mum because she has a cmaera phone.
Handphone #9: LG.Life'sGood, but really it isnt with this stinker. Its fanatstic really with the ability to take up to 900 pictures (gosh you can document Singapore's history with tt), if not for the sporadic blackouts it has (unjustified in its case because i actually took care of it); it hangs too like a computer (gee who wants a phone tt hangs, i might as well get a laptop) and its laggy-ness in opening my messages. And the incident that freaked me out was when yesterday morn when i flipped it open to see my messages, it started to ring, the screen showin an incoming call from floopowerM, which is me mams, and it would have been fine it i couldnt hear the shower in the bathroom in the next room, because it meant my mams was bathin and callim me at the same time, which was improable though not impossible but very unlikely and unnecessary. Thus i went to grab her handphone (handphone #8 rmb?) from her handbag and presto; the phone was not diallin my number! and i was a bit freakeds out, just holding mams' phone in one hand and staring at the ringin LG in the other playin Eminem's Ass Like That for all its worth. So as any normal person would i tried to answer the LG, but presto! I couldnt! try imagining a hanged phone ringing. yups you get the picture. It wouldnt even stop after i slammed down the cover repeatedly in a bid to stop the ringing. What's one to do? It finally stopped after i switched the phone off. phew. relieved but not entirely spooked out. this is one phone that deleted a hundred of my photos (ranging from prom pics to post prom dxo pics to pics with carynnes and brains) sho whats a lil incomin call no one dialled compared to that?
But really what was that all about mun?
Truth? An atavism from far?
Whatever.
girls dont like boys girls like cars and money
check this out!
http://gssq.entryplug.org/writings/girl.htm
i shyly glimpsed him from afar, like a dancin bright spot on the horizon too tiny to be caught;
and just then he looked up at me, caught my eye and smiled a smile that warmed the hearts of hearts
came over and extended a hand whilst we waltzed days away in the land of dreams,
locked in a tight embrace and eyes shinnin with possibilities;
then he slipped through like the sand grains i held in my palm; don juan of a lover.
cold.
and then was when i realised then zeus didnt give me enough grains in one hand to say goodbye
WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
We watched Amadeus last sat at michie house and i was just hooked.
Music is an incomprehensible entity, comprising far more than notes than maketh it, because it stirs the soul
perhaps one of the reasons i never took up playin any musical instrument is because i can never hope to become anythin more than an accomplished amateur.
and in Art, the line between talent and accomplishment is insurmountable.
and i figured i shldnt be one of the growin legions of bookish theorics for whom music is a mugg-able subject.. those who slave years away attainin a diploma, so that wow! i can teach music to lil kids and wont be out of a job next time, slave years away failin at the numerous progressively harder grades, not for the love of music but for the "i have grade so and so" sakes.
true that, i wont be able to tell whatever tempo, this or that note or octave-bleah, but who cares when im seeing rolling hills, with churches at its end, windmills to complete the scene. and to run the whole gamut of emotions listenin to 1812 overture.
i dont have to know the notes to hear the music. Maybe you dont even hear the music, because who needs hearing when you can feel the gentle tuggings at you heart strings at the heart wrenchin tracks by john williams or see the vast expense of space in a few notes.
perhaps, in alot of ways, you dont hv to know the words to hear the message. and despite loads of peeps on your back chastisin you for not knowin the words, you know in your deepest of hearts, perhaps you were the only one who got the message first.
tsusmagne
eat sleep eat eat sleep sleep eat sleep
its funny how you only act like how normal homo sapiens ought to act (bar the introduction of education, money and all that bureaucratic shit) during periods of illness....
it was like an atavism from far..................
crap i hope i dont get ill again anytime soon.
