In fact, it's not. In fact, life is unfair. In fact, some people are born with silver spoons in their mouths and have nothing to worry about. In fact, I'm one of them. In fact, some of the people whom we assume have nothing to worry about worry more than ourselves. In fact, some people have ever changing facades, some always put on a strong front. The towering obstacles they face never serve to break them down in front of others; they hold on so tight, oh-so-tight.

Disaster ensues.
Words are exchanged.
Love is lost.

Everybody has different ways of coping with problems. Some face up to it, never withering in the face of all kinds of nonsense thrown at them. Escapists start escaping in a flurry. I know I'm one of them. But whatever the case, some people know when to retreat, when to stand firm, when to give it their best and when to keep reserves. Well, I really don't know where you come under. All I know is that if you really do have to leave, we won't blame you. At least I won't speak of you in a negative light, I'll never do so.

Come on, you know I love you.
Honestly, without any inkling of a doubt. I do.



By the way, that is referring to a person of the same sex. And this is not transforming into a gay blog, this is another manifestation of love. This is a story of admiration and appreciation of all he has done. Take it as a tribute, regard it as the biggest thank you.


Yes, perhaps I might just be turning gay.

Life's wonderful cycle is doing it's thing on me. It's telling me, 'Yuan Hong you are so going to do this for the next few months. You are so going to be devoid of a social life. You are so going to be a boring, two-dimensional uninteresting bastard who is going to burn books and drink the ashes together with water in a twisted and sick attempt to ace your studies.'

Yes, I know.

Yes, pardon me, for those who have no inkling about the rules of softball, no clue about the difference between a perfect game, a no hitter and a shutout; just give me a brief respite and don't bother reading further down if it pleases you. We won 21-0, but the score was the least insignificant thing, or one of the least important matters for me today.

For those who understand how I feel, or think you know how I feel, don't start assuming I'm disappointed, depressed, or on the verge of throwing myself down 11 stories. Afterall, it's just the zone competition. My performance today didn't even deserve a game ball. Which basically means a few simple things.

I can do better.
I can do somewhat better.
I can do much better.

Even if I did pitch a perfect game, even if I did not let any runners get on base, it would have just been a bonus. It wouldn't have made the difference between 21-0 and 21-1. What matters was I tried my best, you guys were all behind me when I was on the plate, and that better things will be on the way. Honestly, I've gotten over it. It's really nothing much. Just a beautiful mark on your track record. But when it comes down to crunch time, one who can strand 3 runners on base is as good as one who didn't let any runners on base. On the contrary, you might even demoralise the opposition team more. Probably.

In any case, I just want to thank those who barely understood a sentence but read through all this. And on the other hand, I really appreciate the consolation from those who were there with me. In fact I don't regard it as consolation. I didn't throw away a game, I didn't make the team lose, I just owe myself lunch. Ha.


It's all fine, it really is. It's probably more gratifying to pitch a perfect game in the Nationals. Yeah, right.


Sometimes, it's sort of pleasing when you see other sharing the same opinion as you on some matters. Really.



Oh yes, I see the teachers starting to bombard us with homework. True blue taste of Secondary 4 life. The stress, the pressure, the consumption of your freedom, the devouring of your life, the diminishing of your soul; the only thing you live for now, the fucking O's.

Man, I can't be loving it more than this.
Can you?
Can you?

Rap is nothing more than the degradation of the human soul and the evidence that some people do not deserve brains.

Especially those meaningless sounds produced with lyrics proclaiming the size of their member, how they love sex and whatnot. Maybe those people are better off in the jungle. Seriously, rap does not do you any good. It gives you false impressions about how horny you are, makes you think you're the king of the world and doesn't serve to give you a high; try guitar solos, losers.


Then again, even emo, which is a step below transexual, is one grade above rap. Which probably means rap is a drag queen trying to act emo. Or something like that. Let your imagination run wild.

So what am I trying to say?
Rap sucks, stop listening to it before it corrupts your mind and you really think you're a whore/you're an African-American with tons of bling-bling.

It doesn't even cut it as music.


Wait, I'm just voicing my fucking opinion and I'm not asking you to be conforming. Although I wouldn't love to see you referring to yourself as a 'nigga'. Sometimes I don't understand why people use derogatory terms which were meant to insult their race on themselves. It's like calling yourself shit/faeces/a worthless monkey ass.

Today was truly an example of utter randomness. Maybe not that random, but still... Yeah.

I got my new glove. I'll definitely be taking photos of it... Some other day. Don't quote me on that please I might just forget. Got it early in the morning, pretty nice way to kick start the day.

And then I realised that my teacher marked a question of my Maths test wrongly. ( The Emaths test) and then I... Told her about it. That did get me worrying for quite a while, until she told me that the percentage changes will be altered a slight bit with the inclusion of another test. I still live to fight another day!

I guess.

Basically cross-country's coming up, 3rd of March.
Who cares?

But there's no school.
Now that's heaven on earth. I guess.


Did I mention these new gloves are a bit flimsy for 70 dollars?
Reinforce, reinforce, reinforce.

And my new cousin just arrived onto Planet Earth not long ago. Now it's quite a draggy and uninteresting story. No offense to my elders whatsoever, but honestly, come on? Your baby is due like in a few weeks time, and you try to induce the birth of your little one? Complications have arised and... Whether or not you were prepared for the repercussions isn't a determining factor now. Why don't you just let it happen naturally? I know you really have a lot of faith in that... Whatsoever Master but this really defies logic. Totally. It's not safe, and it got quite a few people worried, my grandfather especially. Sigh.

Birth through induction failed, I think my baby cousin's head got elongated due to pressure or something like that. I'm not clear about his situation but I'm just glad everything and everybody is fine and safe. What I know is I'll never do such a foolish thing. I know I'm just 15 going 16 but I do have my own opinions. Furthermore, this sort of decision isn't really that hard to make. I know it may sound stupid, but who would want to miss out on the surreal experience of sending your beloved wife and child to the hospital and worry along the way? Afterall, it's a process most fathers go through, unless you had planned the date of your child's birth a long time ago.

I think their other two children were also not conceived when their Mum's waterbag broke. I might not be making real lot of sense, but today's happening got me thinking, again.


And all this talk about child bearing and child conceiving got my Mum started on stuff about the day when she gave birth to me. The details are amazingly, detailed so I won't go into it, but the coolest thing of all is,

my Mum says I was born at a cool 3.69 kg.
Ring a bell?

I'd better grab my Health Booklet and take a look.


I think to end off the day was the fact that 7887 came in 2nd for 4-D today.
It's in my Dad's IC number.

He didn't buy the number.

Life.

Honestly, the big hoo-ha about the banding, the results of the previous cohort and everything happening the past one plus weeks has been blown utterly out of proportion. I can't really fathom the fact why you (people) are worrying about the stress which is going to be put on us, because whatever the case, the stress will be overwhelming, (for some of you at least) and I'm still wondering what's the problems with three prelims. I might sound overbearing, complacent and everything but I'm barely feeling that way. I'm just trying to think how to overcome the future problems when they do lodge themselves on me - like leeches sticking to your skin, trying to suck your blood.

I'm not a true-blue 'mugger' type of person. I can't persevere more than one-hour straight letting the blood pool in my lower body. My eyes always turn dry a bit too hastily, effectively rendering my concentration level to a big fat ZERO. It's like that. I'm traumatized. Right. No, I was just trying to state the fact I haven't started revising frantically for the first prelim. I'm sorry then.


I'm just trying to take things into my stride and relax, while the chance presents itself. I think this is just an excuse.

Can you envision yourself literally without a CCA? I can't. What the average person can prophetize is the onslaught of remedials which will frequent our days with regularity. This is Secondary 4 life. It isn't a bed of roses, people. I've already expected the worse, so nothing seems that horrendous, and no matter how repulsive the news this morning seemed to you, it didn't make me flinch a single bit.


Writing narrative essays in school is as fun as English lessons can get, but sometimes I can't help but feel that we're deprived of that little bit of freedom. Or maybe we really need to jack up the percentages of distinctions so we can't have short paragraphs, we can't start sentences with 'and/but', we can't have one word sentences, we have to adhere strictly to rules. We have to. We have to be obedient and docile citizens of Singapore so that we will apply what we learn in Social Studies when we step out into the society.

Contempt.
Condescending.
patronizing.


Almost time to welcome Mr Edwin Heng to 4-4 with our arms wide open, people. And see the discontinuation of unproductive periods, the new era of paying attention, something unbeknownst and so alien during our previous lessons. I'm not saying 'Oh I really love the change' or 'Oh it sucks man' but I know every action has its repercussions. For the better or for the worse? The determining factor will be us.

You know it, I know it, everybody knows it.


Maybe I'm obsessed with studies.
Or my potentially disappointing results.
Or my conceivably promising results.

11 minutes and 7 seconds.
18/20.
18/30.
24/40.
24/30.
19/25.

Random numbers and figures with an uncanny knack to induce a gamut of emotions. Anger, fear, disappointment, pain, hate, fulfillment, satisfaction.

You felt it before.
We all did.

Come 2007, we're going to.

It had to be, it fucking had to be,

Chelsea VS Newcastle.


WE HAVE LAST YEAR'S RESULTS, FUCKERS.
DIE CHELSEA.

Howay The Lads.

Sometimes you just feel like you're worrying over nothing, and I am now.


What for? I have no idea. Just trying to eradicate it, but my efforts are to no avail. Will be back tomorrow with an entry appeals to sane humans.

As prompted by Edmund, I shall update. It's not like I don't want to, it's not that I'm really tied for time, but I'm always in a dilemma as to whether I should update. Maybe I should just throw the indecisiveness out of the door and just type down what I want, regardless of whether it is incoherent. Because sometimes, like the present, I contradict myself.

But anyway, I've been thinking - The Past is for Losers.

I know, I've never seen or heard anybody quote this before/yet in real life yet, but I've seen it aplenty in a storybook. Author wise, go figure. His name starts with... Doesn't matter, I know you know.

This phrase was commonly used in the book. In fact, it was over-used, not really applied/explained fully positive, but it did ring some bells. Like the fact that brooding over the past is always a waste of time. Living in the past will only result in complacency/depression, you'll be stagnant forever, and you'll never change. I've been through this phase. There was this period of time I rested on my laurels, I looked back and sniggered, 'Ha, see.' But know it all makes sense. The past is for losers. If you're complacent, you don't take a step back and look how much forward people have moved, you'll never realise that you're so much behind time. On the contrary, if you're depressed and dejected, you'll never garner enough effort to move forward and see that you're as good as others. It's as simple as that.

Living in the past is not a despicable act by all means, in fact there are many who really don't wish to move forward. But the cold hard truth is that living in the past will separate you from the rest, no matter how minute the difference, it can be sieved out, and others can than accentuate that difference, and by that time it'll be a tad too late to change.

I'm not directing this at any one in particular, maybe myself, because sometimes I tend to look back too much, brood too much, be ignorant of the present, and totally forget about future prospects.


Then again, reminiscing the past may be one of the few things which fills your heart with utmost joy - that of one equivalent to a three year old child given permission to eat his/her favourite candy/ice-cream. Teenage angst may have the tendency to eradicate that warm, tingly feeling which often patronised your cute little body, but sometimes it is revived - through reminiscence.


The purpose of the past - to learn from it, not brood over it.
But sometimes, we never do.

Arena (known to self and others) idealistic, introverted, logical, observant, reflective, tense

Blind Spot (known only to others) able, accepting, brave, calm, caring, cheerful, clever, complex, confident, dependable, dignified, energetic, extroverted, friendly, happy, independent, ingenious, intelligent, kind, knowledgable, loving, mature, modest, nervous, organised, patient, powerful, relaxed, responsive, searching, self-conscious, sensible, sentimental, shy, silly, spontaneous, sympathetic, trustworthy, warm, witty

Façade (known only to self)

Unknown (known to nobody) adaptable, bold, giving, helpful, proud, quiet, religious, self-assertive, wise

All Percentages

able (8%) accepting (4%) adaptable (0%) bold (0%) brave (8%) calm (17%) caring (8%) cheerful (13%) clever (13%) complex (17%) confident (8%) dependable (26%) dignified (8%) energetic (17%) extroverted (8%) friendly (26%) giving (0%) happy (13%) helpful (0%) idealistic (8%) independent (8%) ingenious (4%) intelligent (13%) introverted (4%) kind (13%) knowledgable (13%) logical (13%) loving (13%) mature (39%) modest (17%) nervous (8%) observant (4%) organised (8%) patient (4%) powerful (17%) proud (0%) quiet (0%) reflective (4%) relaxed (4%) religious (0%) responsive (4%) searching (17%) self-assertive (0%) self-conscious (13%) sensible (13%) sentimental (8%) shy (8%) silly (34%) spontaneous (4%) sympathetic (4%) tense (4%) trustworthy (17%) warm (8%) wise (0%) witty (4%)

Some results ARE funny.
Really.

Whoever hasn't done it, please do! Haha it's fun looking at the choices you people make. Haha.

Seriously, I have stopped advertising/publicizing my blog because 'it has a lack of content and is not interesting.' So, that shall be it. I will not check my StatCounter anymore (furthermore I've removed it) but I put my Haloscan back up, because you can flame me if you want! Really!

Happy Valentine's Day.
Happy Total Defence Day.

Brokeback Mountain is the best shit, go catch it.
My Dad insists it's not R21.


I told you I was incoherent. I don't bother if you don't come, I really don't. L-a-c-k o-f c-o-n-t-e-n-t here, people.

I mean it sucks when you only get blog thrice a week when you actually could blog like 5 times a week. Time is eating me up, slowly devouring me, bit by bit and I know there are some things which I really have to give up.

Like blogging.

Anyway, it really sucks when you leave home at 7am on a Saturday, come home at 7pm for 3 freaking minutes, and you're told that you have to leave again for dinner. Crazy. 'Home' is becoming an alien term for me on Saturdays. Well, yeah.

I got an A1 for my Chinese O's. To prove all those who insisted that I was boasting wrong, I decided not to make a one line post on Friday. It would have been a tad too cocky, I guess. The initial feeling of relief and joy nearly overcame me... But it dawned on me that many of my close friends didn't perform up to their expectations. That was a very demoralising fact. Nobody could really share my joy, save for a few others. Nah, I shan't elaborate any further. I somehow wish maybe I could be with them, or maybe that I could have found the words to say to them.

Apparently those who got the Ronin/The Suns CDs are supposed to return them to higher authorities of the school, because it's proclaimed that the content is not suitable. Ok, so be it. Guess what? No full refund is promised. Well, not like I know any single sane person who's willing to give it back.

Everything really sucked until last night. (Yes, plus the fact that my Dad nearly won 30k in 4-D. 2nd prize was 2364, and he bought the numbers of his car plate number - 2363. THANKS A TON.) Once again it involved my Dad. It's really so bloody cool to have a Dad who cares so much. Thanks a lot, Dad. Although I never requested for it, and never fathomed the fact that he would get a bass tube to enhance the sound system of his car, he did. My Dad got a BASS TUBE man! 8-inches in length and it's actually quite huge. My mum commented that it was like sitting on a massage chair, there were tremulous vibrations. Ha.

The best way to see Saturday turn it's back on you? Laughing at Chelsea's near demolition by Middlesborough. Yakubu was running circles around the Chelsea defence. Man, what a heart warming sight. The first team to lift the spell, to break the barrier of the dominance of the Chelsea defence, none other than the team who got annihilated by Arsenal 7-0 a few weeks back. And the icing on the cake was the fact that Newcastle beat Aston Villa 2-1 at Villa Park! 2 out 2 for Glenn Roeder. (It would have been the nicest news but the stupid latest score thing was apparently unwilling to show Newcastle's score, so I got news about it only a bit later. YEAH. Still wonderful.)

Sucked my brain dry of what I wanted to put down in words. I think my blog is totally unattractive because it's just filled with words, words and more words. But I really don't bother.


We live for those days. I know, you know, we know. Yeah.

Interesting events which are worth commenting on have been flashing past across my eyes at the speed of light. It's like I'm so caught up with nothing and everything. One moment I may have a peace of mind, be in a state of tranquility and smile at every little nice thing, and the next moment I may be worrying about where my A' Maths Ten Year Series went. On top of that, I may just puke, I may just start shouting right into your bloody face and screaming profanities at the top of my voice. Well... Look what's happening to me.

I mean, what happened to me was that I managed to finish that Dean Koontz book, against all odds smack right on a weekday. Which reminds me I have a Chinese essay to complete for tuition. Anyway, yeah. His books possess an uncanny knack to knock you off your feet, throw you the unexpected... Ok I'll stop. Just go read for yourself, like please? PLEASE?


Ok. So the much awaited day arrived stealthily - it's disguise being that geography test, overshadowing the excitement over the so-called-concert. It was really enjoyable, and without any inkling of a doubt, the best assembly I've ever attended. People were shoving each other, body-surfing, moshing and all those shit you call that shit. It didn't really bother me. I don't belong to that extreme group. Remember, I enjoy non-pop-radio-friendly genres (although the fact is Ronin is on radio) but they still stick out like a sore thumb when you compare them to mainstream personalities. What I'm trying to say is - I don't condone anybody's behaviour/actions. Not the teachers, because I think they didn't know what to do. Not the Suns/Ronin - it's in their blood to be anti-establishment or whatever you call that. You should expect them to say/do what they did, and then find ways to accept the impact their words have on you, that is if you're indeed affected. Not the students - because we were having fun. And honestly, shame on those bastards who were doing science homework during assembly. It's a laughing matter because those people really don't appreciate it when people take their time off to come all the way down and share their brilliant music with you. Hell, we're not talking boring speech here. Ok?

A chunk of incoherent blabber which I don't think any of you would appreciate. But well I blog so that memories of certain days/extraordinary events would stay with me. At least I'll remember the words if the sights and sounds escape from the vaults of my memory.


Well, I'm sorry for what happened next. Don't blame the two of them, because I was irresponsible enough to do such stupid shit and screw up the whole economy. I mean, I just blew. Well, I still blow now.


Along the process of the past few days I started to behave weirdly as well, if I haven't mentioned that at the start of the entry. But I bet I have. So going about asking, desperately begging for a Math question which I didn't have (because I left the book in school) doesn't qualify as queer anymore. Which also explains my behaviour during our Social Studies lesson today. I must say I was uptight, reaching boiling point and really really agitated.


Like, 'what the FUCK'.


Thanks 4-4 then. Maybe you like to study A' Maths together with Social Studies? Yes, I'm a little conniving bastard who only thinks of himself. Think for yourselves then, assholes.

Routines are good. Didn't I tell you that I'm not exactly the fastest to adapt? Didn't I mention the fact that I like sticking to something because it's troublesome to change? Well, it doesn't matter. I like my routine now... Somewhat so. I like my productive weekends. I simply adore it right down to the bones. So why am I blogging on a Monday night?

Maybe I shouldn't be here, perhaps doing some extra revision would be appropriate. I'm whining now...

I guess that blogging helps improve my English. Here I am, looking for excuses.

I'm caught in two minds, I'm on the horns of a dilemma. Save me from self-torture, self-mutilation and self-degradation, rescue my soul before it disintegrates into one million tiny pieces and I miraculously dematerialise.

Right.



And thankfully I didn't feel disgruntled or jaundiced after my first bout of Chemistry tuition. In fact it was reveling that I learned something extra even though the topic had been covered in school. Save for the slightly large class, everything's nice and smooth. Maybe this is the turning point. But then again I'm cynical and endothermic, interest in Chemistry is not self sustained. That was very heartwarming to see, NO? (See I told you I learned something.)


Well, I'm sorry I spoilt my shoes. I would have loved to be equipped with prophetical and supernatural powers to foretell the future. I really would have loved to save that thirty bucks. And I'm sorry I didn't have the initiative to buy another pair of track shoes like my juniors. Well, afterall, I totally suck to the core, no? I'm such a major letdown because I failed to realise the fact that I would spoil my brand new shoes. I failed to bloody realise the fact that it's my fault.

OH IT'S MY FUCKING FAULT AFTERALL. Just put on the blame on me. It's so comforting. I love my fucking shoes. I love my fucking shoes.


Well, that was Yuan Hong for you. He's a biased bitch and he loves imposing his views on others because he always stands by the fact that the world would be a better place if everybody thought the same way. Really.

Oh, so you think you're great and you have big balls? You're just a major pain in the ass. And I bet everybody with a brain the size of a peanut knows that. Go guess, it'll make give you a high imagining him being shot in the face and skinned alive. Oh, I'm beginning to sound like I'm under the influence of booze, which is just a fallacy.


After all the redundant information to weigh you down, let Cheng Yuan Hong leave you with the fact of the day.

If you fucking spoil your shoes, you suck. And Cheng Yuan Hong is barely a sane organism.

In layman terms - I blow.

Thanks, and I'm barely emo.


I finished my work.

Over enthusiasm over the commence of writing an essay is not benefitial to the end product. That I swear. And I think I write better with less time. The more excess time, the more my thoughts start going wild, the more doubts I have, the faster my confidence dwindles, the more the standard of my essay declines.

Well, sorry Mum.


I really have trouble deciding whether this is stress or this is just paranoia on my part. If anybody can listen to me, let alone give me advice, I'll appreciate it. But then again, maybe it's just my fault.

I don't really have much inspiration. Then again, sleeping is such a beautiful thing we should never miss out on.

Learn more about me!
I'm too opinionated and idealistic to be your friendly neighbourhood superhero.

Credits.
Rusroulette/Adele

Shoot me.
new_u_fan@hotmail.com