zzz a txt meme

So, in the time when I'm meant to be studying for my physics exam, I'm slacking off and about to go to sleep! :]

My friend sent me the below text:

'If u saw me in a police car, wat would u think i got arrested for? Answer me, then 4ward an c hw many crimes u get accused of !'

Since I was bored and not doing work like the good girl I should be, I forwarded it... these were the responses I got back:

on msn: wtf! I don't even have txts left!
by txt:

- You sweet talked the guy into giving you a lift

- I would think u got lost and they wr takn u home or ur mum didnt no whr u wr so cald up th police XD

- Being too beautiful ( awwww made my evening haha :] )

- Something sheldon like lolol

- Arrested for spamming tony

- Asian driving... or a hit and run =)

- Mistaken for a hobo in town :) arrested for assaulting a policeman

- Trying 2 pull a heist... ur the computer guy sitting in the van hacking in2 the security lol

- Arrested for eating evryones food :D

- Nerdiness. Without a doubt.

You guys should try this one hahaha it's fun XD

a (fake) ghost

Has anyone else ever seen the bearded hatted old man walking around the greenlane/epsom/remuera area? The one who's always carrying a messenger bag and seems to always be powerwalking, wearing shorts even in winter. His wispy beard and beret-ed head which I can only imagine as somewhat bald reminds me of santa claus sometimes. well, a very skinny version of him anyway.

I ALWAYS see him. every day, without fail, almost every day for the last 3 or 4 years... Sometimes walking past him, sometimes I see him from the car window... I became convinced that I was the only one who could see him, since noone else ever said anything. But maybe everyone was thinking the same thing? For a period of time I thought he might be some kind of ghost or guardian angel who was following me around. It was a nice thought, for a while, until my dad commented this morning about how he always saw him as we passed him in the car ): my paranormal conjectures were completely shattered by 1 sentence sigh.

But it's okay little old man. I'll still think of you as my haunting ghost as long as I see you every now and again. And when you suddenly stop following me around, I'm sure I'll feel some kind of loss in my heart...

dedicated to all the people who sometimes feel like they're alone...

On the surface, I suppose I'm a pretty nice person. I take my time to go around and donate to charities, to volunteer for foundations, even spare some change for the homeless on the street even if it's apparent they're just going to use that money to get their next hit of heroin. I'm working in a relatively respected career, and I've gotten three promotions in the last two years. You could say my life's pretty good, if you weren't living it yourself.

But beneath the porcelain mask I wear each day, under the flowery mist of designer perfumes and the facade of a heart that radiates happiness, I'm something else entirely. I never thought that humans were two dimensional. We're all very complex characters, and can't be described using just a few adjectives. It's a pity that most people seem to think so.

I'm often described as 'bright', 'promising', 'hardworking', 'reliable', 'kind', 'loving', but I wonder if anyone ever stopped to think if I needed some kindness and loving in return. I'm not as generous as people make me out to be... It hurts, to give and give and not get anything to compensate. I'm not as saintlike as those martyrs who, in my opinion, must be sociopaths if they really are that saintlike. Call me selfish, but it's just human nature; we all need a little kindness in this world.

We're all just pursuing our personal happiness, aren't we? Why do we have to push others down to propel ourselves forward? Why must the kind people suffer, while the cruel prosper? Sometimes I think God is just playing games with us.

From when we were children, we were always led to believe that the world was a perfect, fair place. We try so hard to hide the fact that the world is a festering of chaos and injustice, instead of addressing the problem straight up. I often feel like my perceptions of the world have been perverted by reality, my idyllic paradise from childhood tarnished by the lies and hatred of the world.

It must be form of black satire I think, that humans can't even uphold a sense of 'humanity'. I try to smile, to stay optimistic, to keep giving without needing anything in return... but people just keep passing me by. Perhaps the whole world is living like I do, or perhaps the world really is that dark. I manage to tolerate all the little things, but even little things build up. Maybe one day I'll snap, or maybe my optimism will pay off and a deus ex machina will appear and solve all my problems. It doesn't take much. Maybe a genuine 'thank you', maybe a real smile, maybe a friendship or relationship without strings attached...

I'm so tired of being lied to for personal gain.

I'm so tired of being taken advantage of.

I was told that giving would be enough.

It's not.

------------------------------------

idk I'm in a storytelling mood lately :] even tho most of my noob writings are unorthodox and have weak structure and flow, I'm happy to just keep writing my noob writings.

a puppet show

She told me that the world was full of people, and I retorted that there was no one as special as her on our earth. She shook her head and told me that one day I'd find someone just like her, maybe halfway around the world. After all, there are six or seven billion of us; the chance of the same two people existing are quite high. That's what she said, anyway.

That day, under the old oak tree, was a day it seems I'll spend the rest of my life trying to go back to. When we were still children, void of understanding of the harsh realities of life. She smiled at me, a dazzling smile, and the sound of her laughter drowned the high pitched squawks of seagulls and the rushing of the waves onto the warm sand. Sunlight leaked through the leaves above us and the shadow puppets it formed danced around in the breeze, telling their own stories and emulating the beginning of our friendship like it was a puppet show. Yes, it was a peaceful day. How I wish things were still the same.

Our friendship was really similar to those shadows on the sand, now that I think about it. It began when the sun started to shine, a desperate tango in the summer air. I'd strayed from my mother's arm, seeking refuge underneath the oak, the most beautiful thing I could see for miles. I reasoned that my mother would naturally be attracted to it. She'd done something similar. It's a funny thing how inanimate objects can bring two people together like that; to be fair though, it really was a remarkable tree. Sometimes I wonder if it's still there, and how many other ties it's inspired, or if it was just us. I wonder if we were special, or just another mundane coincidence without meaning. I wonder if all life is like that, if we're living just to die or if we're actually important. In the end I always decide that I have the right to give something meaning. Otherwise, everything she'd said would have been meaningless. And I certainly don't want that.

As a puppet act has an opening and closing, so apparently had our friendship. We discussed many things that day, shared all our secrets, had the most fun I've ever had. But as light leaves, so must the shadows. I've never gone back to that tree. I'm afraid that if I do, I'll meet her again, and the time we had would have been less meaningful, less special. At the same time, I do want to see her again. That day is the most vivid memory I have, so vivid that sometimes I wonder if it even happened.

Twenty years after that day under the oak tree, the 'me' on this earth is quite different to the boy who held her hand and told her that when we grew up we'd get married. Often I feel stupid; it's certainly doubtful that she would even remember an insignificant day like that one. But I don't care; even though I never knew her name, I remember her hair that blew in the breeze, her sunkissed face and her rosy lips, her amazing smile and her bright blue eyes reflecting the cerulean sky...

But, she lied, and I can never forgive her for that. I've traveled around the world and seen all the places I could see. Yet, I've never found anyone quite like her.

pot luck

yup, POT LUCK -- a collection of otherwise random and unrelated things that I feel the need to blog about because I have nothing better to do and am exercising procrastination.

well, yesterday after we finished our dragon boating practice and came ashore, the dio girls were getting ready to go on the water and there were these two hot SHIRTLESS guys just standing there looking hot (as they like to do) amongst a sea of girls. Not that I'm complaining. Later, I found out they were the coaches for the dio teams. WTF! WHY CAN'T WE HAVE COACHES LIKE THAT ): I suppose they may prove as a distraction but it might also be motivation for some? siiigh, dio has finally beaten us at something...

Milo cereal tastes great not only with maple and walnut ice cream but with vanilla as well. I was actually really looking forward to coming home and having some vanilla ice cream with milo flakes but some douchebag finished the tub ): so now I am sad ):

Hmmm, what is happening in my life? Nothing really. It's been pretty stress free lately I reckon. Day after day after day after day~~ cruising along... our time is running out sigh. we're really lucky to be able to live so calmly and peacefully like this though.

today, I found out that the little tabs on top of cans are actually meant to be used to open the can, and then you're meant to twist it around over the hole and put your straw into that hole, to stop it from moving around. I never knew that!! Apparently that's what the tab is actually designed to do... printmaking sure is educational :P speaking of those tabs on the cans, they're apparently also really valuable, because they're made of almost pure tin, whereas the rest of the can is aluminium, which is why often in garbage cans the tabs have been removed because people go around taking them off the cans. If you trade in like 200 of those you can get $100 from the junkyard or something. Every time I throw away a can without taking off the tabs now I feel like I'm throwing way part of that $100...

Rachmaninov's Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini Op. 43 Var. 18 sounds really nice~~ it's so calming and mellow :]

Today, there were only 5 people in my physics class because everyone was on the bio trip. Fortunately this meant that we got to toast marshmallows using a concave mirror and the sun. as Mr Olsson says, If one is ever trapped on a desert island with a packet of marshmallows and a giant mirror, one now knows how to make a delicious meal :D they were really nice. Although, we only had time to do 3 because the stupid sun kept going behind a cloud. we burnt a lot of paper while trying to find the focus point though. pity that toasted paper doesn't really taste that nice.

that's all for now I suppose~ updates from my mundane life haha. maybe more pot luck updates will occur in the future, if you guys like reading about random events in my life...

...

who am I kidding, I'd make entries like this even if you don't like them =P