The blogpost was going to be a rather angry/annoyed one, but I guess I can thank two nice people for changing that. As interesting as you said the blogpost might be, I decided against it, haha. Instead perhaps I shall make this something more relevant and serene (At least one would laugh by that word usage, and hopefully that's as far as it goes. Aah what a lie, you're laughing at this too aren'tya.)
何気ない毎日の一秒一秒が 宝石よりも価値がある 宝物
-- you (Cry) -- Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni
It's with certain melancholy that the endyear exams head over towards us. I've worked pretty hard, I think. Compared to past years, at least.
I still remember how much I hated myself in May (How ironic that someone out there must've been so happy while I was in the pits, and perhaps how more ironic of this statement in itself.)
It's interesting how much hating yourself can push you forward, isn't it? But to say the truth it wasn't hate that kept me going.
The first few times I went for tuition I did the homework on the day before. I considered it a burden that I had to go through to make sure I didn't make the mistake that the me in the past would have. It took a while, and more importantly, as much as this sounds fake, it actually took you to place some confidence in me before I actually started to enjoy tuition. (By this point I've called three different people 'you' already. Oh well) Maybe the link isn't clear, but honestly, thanks.
In one term alone, I've really changed alot, haven't I? Honestly, I don't think I've been as happy or as sad as I've been recently in a very long time. I don't think I've had emotions as true as I do now in a long time. And I've already come close to crying twice, once today; and I doubt I'll be this close in a long time.
All this time, have you (Still 3rd, this is a general you) ever considered that this very moment, as ordinary, as pathetic, as stressful, as amusing, as queer, as depressing, as heartwrenching, as broken and fragmented as it is, could be very well your happiest moment for a very long time to come? Let's not even talk about your life ending tomorrow. It could very well get better. It could very well stay the same forever.
It could very well all just disappear in a short moment's notice and you wouldn't even have the chance to try and catch it.
I've always considered the wind to be a beautiful thing because of how you could feel its presence all around you but you were completely powerless in trying to catch it. All of a sudden, the breeze is gone, and as much as you'd like it to stay you just move on.
When you realize the beauty of something, it's always when it's too late and it's about to leave, isn't it? How every single second of every ordinary day bears more value than even gems. And the beauty of it all is that it will never last.
For some reason I watched a simple MAD of Lucky Star and somehow, just somehow, I nearly cried. A friend was telling me about how he was reading A Game of Cards and somehow, just somehow, he just started to cry. It's all association; a very painful one at that.
Life honestly hasn't been so fulfilling as it has been in this semester in some time. Of course it could be more, and of course it could've been less. But for each second and each ordinary day, I don't think I could be much happier. I've been rash, I've been foolish, I've been a bastard and an asshole, I've been happy, I've been glad, I've been serene (the first 'you' would be laughing again), and I've felt horrendously lonely and amazingly loved.
There're the readers who're younger and won't be able to fully understand this feeling. There're the readers who're the same age and probably can associate with this. There're the readers who're a slight bit older and know the feeling, and know that I know nothing about the feeling two years from now. And there're the readers who're even older than that and know what it's like to be me, what it's like to get past being me and know what it's like to be them.
But all the readers probably have something in common, don't they? Times they treasure.
The title of the blogpost was Halcyon Days, a quote admittedly taken from an anime (though a stock quote, I hadn't even heard of it until then) which I don't even like that much. I don't even know how true it is to name this such. I could very well look back at this blogpost and laugh at the foolishness of the me writing this at 1 minute into 30th September 2007.
Come Monday, if rumours are correct, ACSI will no longer be the same again with the leaving of some people. For these individuals, maybe their halcyon days have already past. And as much as I have made nil impact on these individuals, their presence alone have made all the difference. If things go as rumours predict, I fear there will be nothing about the ACSI in 2008 that I can say about the ACSI in 2007. And ironically, there's already so little about the ACSI in 2007 that I can compare with the ACSI in 2006, and before then it was perfectly fine. Guess what changed it all, huh?
For some seniors, maybe the end of the journey is their halcyon days. Maybe after 12, 9, 6 or even 2 years, they have walked in the company of heroes (Sorry for stealing the line, Gid), among the ranks of Scholars, Officers and Gentlemen. Maybe this will be the same for me in two years time.
But somehow, I just get the feeling that this is already it.
I've made promises with a few friends. Jarrel would scoff at that, but what's done's been done. I must apologize in advance if I never get to keep my word to them. And honestly, there's still so much I want to say. But I think I should keep it to this.
When you read this, could you leave a footprint on this simple blogpost? In case I ever forget, let this small mark be a proof of a moment's cross between two threads of man in the intertwined web of life, whether you're someone to me, anyone to me, or even no one to me.
Farewell, Halcyon Days.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
A Second Confession
Ruoma: A drink, good Martin! I fear the tides of memory have struck again, and it be but your wine that can calm the storm.
Martin: Of course, good sir, but what is it that troubles you? Are they matters of the heart?
Ruoma: More the past than the heart. But let me drink my drink, will you? I must drown in alcohol before my reminiscence gets there first.
Martin: As your wish.
Ruoma: ...you know, Martin. There used to be a girl I liked.
Martin: Hasn't everybody? What age were you then?
Ruoma: Younger than half yours, young man.
Martin: You aren't much older than drinking age either, sir. What did you like about her?
Ruoma: There was always an air of elegance that was exuded around her, Mart. A style that turned heads. Aphrodite's hair and skin. And
Martin: Please, keep your descriptions to a fitting age. You were but nine to ten.
Ruoma: Tis' the alcohol speaking, not me. But she was one I could not help but admire. It's a strange thing, you know? It was a joy seeing her, whether it was back at the old primary school or at the church. I'd liked her since young, and known her since younger. Then she disappeared.
Martin: Surely you could've found a better word to describe that.
Ruoma: Went away, whatever. I transferred school halfway through, and a year later she transferred too when my church built a second partner church elsewhere. I tried to chase her so much. Convince my parents, go there myself, learn the routes, I tried everything. It never worked out in the end. And there she went.
Martin: And what makes you bring this up suddenly?
Ruoma: Once or twice a year the church would have events together and I would get to see a fleeting glance of her. Do you know how much it takes? The feelings of living your life for a moment a year? Keeping yourself afloat with but a mere thought that you don't even know will be fulfilled? That the mere wish to see someone, not even speak to, were so strong as to keep a person going for years? It is an amazing thought, Martin, that you can live life for the moment though it come so rarely in life.
Martin: I assume you didn't last too long with that.
Ruoma: Perhaps I did, perhaps I didn't. Does 4 sound much to you? People grow. Youth dies out by the time you're 18. But come the fifth, and one event came that truly showed me something.
Martin: And what would that be, o alcohol?
Ruoma: Mock me not, though I can't deny the truth of that. I headed over to her church one day, and our parents happened to talk. I just took the chance to ask her one question. "Do you remember me?" "Yeah, you're from my primary school and from church." It wasn't a victory, nor something to be proud of, nor something to be particularly happy about. It made no difference. But let me tell you, Martin, that there is strange value in the mere fact alone that you exist to somebody. You don't even care what you exist as. Lover, companion, friend, colleague, acquaintance, or even a damn afterthought; I can tell you now, Mart, that being forgotten is a curse worse than death itself. And after all that time I realized that still my existence leaves a small mark in the beaches of sand. But I couldn't bring myself to be very happy. I could but force a weak smile. Perhaps, Mart, I already grew up too much. Gave up hope; felt it impossible; learnt that the odds had finally stacked too high against me. I left with a weak smile.
Ruoma: On my way back, my parents confided an amusing fact. They wanted to transfer to the other church too. But they didn't. Why? Because no one my age was transferring except for her. They were worried for me, worried that I couldn't stand not being with my friends. To damn hell with them, I thought! She was enough! But I could no longer say or think that with passion anymore, instead having them as a mere afterthought with a chuckle at the side. It's a very ironic thought, isn't it? A story that might have enraged the young me. But I couldn't, Martin, all I could do was force that bitter-weak smile with the slightest tinge of sweetness inside, not for the future but rather for the forgone past of 'it could've been'. It's... aah.
Martin: Tissue?
Ruoma: It's ok, you didn't add enough salt on your margarita rim. Perhaps you expected that? Perhaps not.
Martin: Perhaps I did, perhaps not. Why do you cry for a girl so long past?
Ruoma: I cry not for her, I cry for myself. For the part of me that I lost while waiting, while hoping, while wishing for a past long lost to a choice of irony. The part of me that could wait for years in crystal hope, that lived on a thought of random meetings a year or less, that was hope in place of sorrowful regret.
Martin: Surely you have moved on.
Ruoma: And I have. But for none else shall I look upon with such lingering regret.
Martin: I didn't mean that, sir, and I believe you have another fancy by now.
Ruoma: Tis' been a month since we talked, and a fortnight since any message. I'm afraid, Martin, that I can no longer look up to the sky with the patience and blind, faithful hope that I bore the years ago.
------------------------------------------
Some people just like to screw my stories up at the last moment. But nevermind, not like I bear anything in regards to that anyway.
Martin: Of course, good sir, but what is it that troubles you? Are they matters of the heart?
Ruoma: More the past than the heart. But let me drink my drink, will you? I must drown in alcohol before my reminiscence gets there first.
Martin: As your wish.
Ruoma: ...you know, Martin. There used to be a girl I liked.
Martin: Hasn't everybody? What age were you then?
Ruoma: Younger than half yours, young man.
Martin: You aren't much older than drinking age either, sir. What did you like about her?
Ruoma: There was always an air of elegance that was exuded around her, Mart. A style that turned heads. Aphrodite's hair and skin. And
Martin: Please, keep your descriptions to a fitting age. You were but nine to ten.
Ruoma: Tis' the alcohol speaking, not me. But she was one I could not help but admire. It's a strange thing, you know? It was a joy seeing her, whether it was back at the old primary school or at the church. I'd liked her since young, and known her since younger. Then she disappeared.
Martin: Surely you could've found a better word to describe that.
Ruoma: Went away, whatever. I transferred school halfway through, and a year later she transferred too when my church built a second partner church elsewhere. I tried to chase her so much. Convince my parents, go there myself, learn the routes, I tried everything. It never worked out in the end. And there she went.
Martin: And what makes you bring this up suddenly?
Ruoma: Once or twice a year the church would have events together and I would get to see a fleeting glance of her. Do you know how much it takes? The feelings of living your life for a moment a year? Keeping yourself afloat with but a mere thought that you don't even know will be fulfilled? That the mere wish to see someone, not even speak to, were so strong as to keep a person going for years? It is an amazing thought, Martin, that you can live life for the moment though it come so rarely in life.
Martin: I assume you didn't last too long with that.
Ruoma: Perhaps I did, perhaps I didn't. Does 4 sound much to you? People grow. Youth dies out by the time you're 18. But come the fifth, and one event came that truly showed me something.
Martin: And what would that be, o alcohol?
Ruoma: Mock me not, though I can't deny the truth of that. I headed over to her church one day, and our parents happened to talk. I just took the chance to ask her one question. "Do you remember me?" "Yeah, you're from my primary school and from church." It wasn't a victory, nor something to be proud of, nor something to be particularly happy about. It made no difference. But let me tell you, Martin, that there is strange value in the mere fact alone that you exist to somebody. You don't even care what you exist as. Lover, companion, friend, colleague, acquaintance, or even a damn afterthought; I can tell you now, Mart, that being forgotten is a curse worse than death itself. And after all that time I realized that still my existence leaves a small mark in the beaches of sand. But I couldn't bring myself to be very happy. I could but force a weak smile. Perhaps, Mart, I already grew up too much. Gave up hope; felt it impossible; learnt that the odds had finally stacked too high against me. I left with a weak smile.
Ruoma: On my way back, my parents confided an amusing fact. They wanted to transfer to the other church too. But they didn't. Why? Because no one my age was transferring except for her. They were worried for me, worried that I couldn't stand not being with my friends. To damn hell with them, I thought! She was enough! But I could no longer say or think that with passion anymore, instead having them as a mere afterthought with a chuckle at the side. It's a very ironic thought, isn't it? A story that might have enraged the young me. But I couldn't, Martin, all I could do was force that bitter-weak smile with the slightest tinge of sweetness inside, not for the future but rather for the forgone past of 'it could've been'. It's... aah.
Martin: Tissue?
Ruoma: It's ok, you didn't add enough salt on your margarita rim. Perhaps you expected that? Perhaps not.
Martin: Perhaps I did, perhaps not. Why do you cry for a girl so long past?
Ruoma: I cry not for her, I cry for myself. For the part of me that I lost while waiting, while hoping, while wishing for a past long lost to a choice of irony. The part of me that could wait for years in crystal hope, that lived on a thought of random meetings a year or less, that was hope in place of sorrowful regret.
Martin: Surely you have moved on.
Ruoma: And I have. But for none else shall I look upon with such lingering regret.
Martin: I didn't mean that, sir, and I believe you have another fancy by now.
Ruoma: Tis' been a month since we talked, and a fortnight since any message. I'm afraid, Martin, that I can no longer look up to the sky with the patience and blind, faithful hope that I bore the years ago.
------------------------------------------
Some people just like to screw my stories up at the last moment. But nevermind, not like I bear anything in regards to that anyway.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Youth
Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, to some good angel leave the rest;
For Time will teach thee soon the truth, there are no birds in last year's nest
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A long four years, and still two to go. Yet maybe by the end of this I'll have already wisened up more than I already have (Self-praise or denouncement for you to decide). Who knows? Maybe I'll really be the rambling old fool that some people have already perceived me to be up till now, and perhaps even more.
There was a very strange feeling involved in climbing into class via the top window. At 11pm of 18th Sep, I've already forgotten what that feeling was. Was it a simple feeling of achievement? One of "That was easier than I thought" or "I should've done this earlier"? Maybe neither. I don't know anymore.
It was rather ironic, wasn't it? XM and I just jumped in, cleaned ourselves off and just think "That was fun" while everyone else is outside. After a while everyone gets into class when the key finally comes back from the hands of the Hoblet, everyone was like GO HERR GO XM and then when I go around myself everyone agrees with me saying that I've been a bad influence on XM.
Ironic, isn't it? How people praise and condemn the exact same things at pretty much the same time. After I went to ask XM whether I influenced him to make that choice in any way, it was kind of with a sigh of relief that I found out the answer was no. But think about it; not much really dictated our actions to not involve climbing into class, right?
I miss a point where our class was slightly crazier. Slightly more without a care in the world. I still remember a short film that a bunch of Sec 1 GEP students made. I still remember the Sec 2 GEP party with all its general happiness, humour, photos and uninvited guests. I can't remember much of Sec 3. Not much of Sec 4.
And completely ironically I myself am also at fault. It's all a certain sort of emotional baggage that pushes us towards this kind of self we are now, right?
Haha, I promised to have a toast with a friend against 5cm/s. Perhaps last year I would've done something else. Perhaps the year before I might not have even done anything. Perhaps next year I'll be serving a drink for him. Perhaps the year after that I'd be with him, couple 'o friends and maybe a teacher or two at a recommended pub, maybe ask for a discount from home haha.
When you look back at all this, you tend to think "Wow, I've really changed since then, haven't I?" but who really actively makes sure that this occurs? Really, how many of us actually consciously lead a youthful life rather than subconsciously?
On 19th, XM and I were walking back from swimming and I ended up bringing up the topic of how we should get others to climb into class, yet I did not know why we should've done that. Then he gave the answer that was always there but always hidden - it was something that we couldn't do in the future as adults. It was truly an action that only one our age was capable of doing. And consciously, that did feel far more like the life of a random youth.
And we did try to climb into class. The simple drill; look left, look right, make sure people pass, then with one at the front door and one at the back door, both jump up and climb in simultaneously.
I got a cramp halfway doing so. XM went in without a problem. He's born in November.
Maybe I really am an old man now, huh.
For Time will teach thee soon the truth, there are no birds in last year's nest
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A long four years, and still two to go. Yet maybe by the end of this I'll have already wisened up more than I already have (Self-praise or denouncement for you to decide). Who knows? Maybe I'll really be the rambling old fool that some people have already perceived me to be up till now, and perhaps even more.
There was a very strange feeling involved in climbing into class via the top window. At 11pm of 18th Sep, I've already forgotten what that feeling was. Was it a simple feeling of achievement? One of "That was easier than I thought" or "I should've done this earlier"? Maybe neither. I don't know anymore.
It was rather ironic, wasn't it? XM and I just jumped in, cleaned ourselves off and just think "That was fun" while everyone else is outside. After a while everyone gets into class when the key finally comes back from the hands of the Hoblet, everyone was like GO HERR GO XM and then when I go around myself everyone agrees with me saying that I've been a bad influence on XM.
Ironic, isn't it? How people praise and condemn the exact same things at pretty much the same time. After I went to ask XM whether I influenced him to make that choice in any way, it was kind of with a sigh of relief that I found out the answer was no. But think about it; not much really dictated our actions to not involve climbing into class, right?
I miss a point where our class was slightly crazier. Slightly more without a care in the world. I still remember a short film that a bunch of Sec 1 GEP students made. I still remember the Sec 2 GEP party with all its general happiness, humour, photos and uninvited guests. I can't remember much of Sec 3. Not much of Sec 4.
And completely ironically I myself am also at fault. It's all a certain sort of emotional baggage that pushes us towards this kind of self we are now, right?
Haha, I promised to have a toast with a friend against 5cm/s. Perhaps last year I would've done something else. Perhaps the year before I might not have even done anything. Perhaps next year I'll be serving a drink for him. Perhaps the year after that I'd be with him, couple 'o friends and maybe a teacher or two at a recommended pub, maybe ask for a discount from home haha.
When you look back at all this, you tend to think "Wow, I've really changed since then, haven't I?" but who really actively makes sure that this occurs? Really, how many of us actually consciously lead a youthful life rather than subconsciously?
On 19th, XM and I were walking back from swimming and I ended up bringing up the topic of how we should get others to climb into class, yet I did not know why we should've done that. Then he gave the answer that was always there but always hidden - it was something that we couldn't do in the future as adults. It was truly an action that only one our age was capable of doing. And consciously, that did feel far more like the life of a random youth.
And we did try to climb into class. The simple drill; look left, look right, make sure people pass, then with one at the front door and one at the back door, both jump up and climb in simultaneously.
I got a cramp halfway doing so. XM went in without a problem. He's born in November.
Maybe I really am an old man now, huh.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
The Colourful World
Three men sat on a table staring out into the sceneries of the hillsides from the safety of the balcony of the cafe. The three looked outside to the world and, unable to turn their eyes away, did not notice that the waitress was passing them their tea until her comment.
"Sir, your tea."
The waitress saw the first man staring out the window. She asked the first man, "Why are you staring out at the scenery? What do you like about it?"
The first man commented. "It is the vivid colours of the scenery, miss, that make me appreciate it so much."
The waitress was confused. Were vivid colours enough to make this scenery what it is? She probed further. "Why is it vivid to you?"
"Because I am viewing it, and because I am in it. The world is beautiful for I am in it, Miss, and I think very much that whatever scenery you view this as, I view this as beautiful and that is enough."
"What's the most beautiful scenery out there, then?"
"Anything, Miss, because I'm inside it."
The waitress gave the first man his tea. Then she moved on to the second man.
The waitress saw the second man staring out the window. She asked the second man, "Why are you staring out at the scenery? What do you like about it? Is it the vividness of the scenery?"
The second man commented. "It is indeed the vivid colours of the scenery, miss, that make me appreciate it so much. But of course, miss, there is more to it than just mere colours."
The waitress was confused. What made this scenery what it is to him? She probed further. "What is more important to you than the colours of the scenery?"
"The fact that somewhere out there, she is viewing it too, Miss. Somewhere out there, she's thinking about me, and that thought alone is enough to make this scenery so vivid and beautiful, Miss."
"What's the most beautiful scenery out there, then?"
"Anything, Miss, because she's inside it."
The waitress gave the second man his tea. Then she moved on to the third man.
The waitress saw the third man staring out the window. She asked the third man, "Why are you staring out at the scenery? What do you like about it? Is it the vividness of the scenery?"
The third man commented. "It is indeed the vivid colours of the scenery, miss, that make me appreciate it so much. But of course, miss, there is more to it than just mere colours."
The waitress smiled. "Is it love?"
"No, Miss, not the way you put it."
The waitress was confused. If not love, then what made this scenery what it is to him? She probed further. "What makes you see this scenery as beautiful, then?"
"Because it is, Miss. Do you need a reason to see a beautiful thing as beautiful? The world maybe not be a beautiful place, Miss, but let me assure you that there be beauty in every single thing, beautiful or not."
The waitress stood still for a while before she continued to ask.
"What's the most beautiful scenery out there, then?"
"Wouldn't you like to know. But alas I have no answer."
The waitress gave the third man his tea. Then she went off to other people's tables to take their orders.
The three men took the tea, and drank a sip each.
"Ah, this is good tea."
-----------------------------------------------------
-The world is not beautiful; And that, in a way, lends it a sort of beauty.-
- Kino's Journey
"Sir, your tea."
The waitress saw the first man staring out the window. She asked the first man, "Why are you staring out at the scenery? What do you like about it?"
The first man commented. "It is the vivid colours of the scenery, miss, that make me appreciate it so much."
The waitress was confused. Were vivid colours enough to make this scenery what it is? She probed further. "Why is it vivid to you?"
"Because I am viewing it, and because I am in it. The world is beautiful for I am in it, Miss, and I think very much that whatever scenery you view this as, I view this as beautiful and that is enough."
"What's the most beautiful scenery out there, then?"
"Anything, Miss, because I'm inside it."
The waitress gave the first man his tea. Then she moved on to the second man.
The waitress saw the second man staring out the window. She asked the second man, "Why are you staring out at the scenery? What do you like about it? Is it the vividness of the scenery?"
The second man commented. "It is indeed the vivid colours of the scenery, miss, that make me appreciate it so much. But of course, miss, there is more to it than just mere colours."
The waitress was confused. What made this scenery what it is to him? She probed further. "What is more important to you than the colours of the scenery?"
"The fact that somewhere out there, she is viewing it too, Miss. Somewhere out there, she's thinking about me, and that thought alone is enough to make this scenery so vivid and beautiful, Miss."
"What's the most beautiful scenery out there, then?"
"Anything, Miss, because she's inside it."
The waitress gave the second man his tea. Then she moved on to the third man.
The waitress saw the third man staring out the window. She asked the third man, "Why are you staring out at the scenery? What do you like about it? Is it the vividness of the scenery?"
The third man commented. "It is indeed the vivid colours of the scenery, miss, that make me appreciate it so much. But of course, miss, there is more to it than just mere colours."
The waitress smiled. "Is it love?"
"No, Miss, not the way you put it."
The waitress was confused. If not love, then what made this scenery what it is to him? She probed further. "What makes you see this scenery as beautiful, then?"
"Because it is, Miss. Do you need a reason to see a beautiful thing as beautiful? The world maybe not be a beautiful place, Miss, but let me assure you that there be beauty in every single thing, beautiful or not."
The waitress stood still for a while before she continued to ask.
"What's the most beautiful scenery out there, then?"
"Wouldn't you like to know. But alas I have no answer."
The waitress gave the third man his tea. Then she went off to other people's tables to take their orders.
The three men took the tea, and drank a sip each.
"Ah, this is good tea."
-----------------------------------------------------
-The world is not beautiful; And that, in a way, lends it a sort of beauty.-
- Kino's Journey
Sunday, September 09, 2007
The Woes of Bearing a Public Blog
Up till now, I never really noticed the issue of having a public blog (Public in that it doesn't have passwords and the like). When I first started out my blog was pretty much a chronicle of my activities and thoughts, and lately one of my stories (conversations really).
It's nice having -generally- random people come over and comment, and it was somewhat of a surprise when clearly random people just came over and said something (anoel as one haha).
It's nice knowing that you can actually mean something with this blog, knowing that you can help someone with it, give someone ideas with it, make someone's day with it, or at the very least entertain him or her for 5 minutes with it.
Yet there's those times when two letters left out of a long blog post can send someone into annoyance. Words break people just as easily as they make them, and if you're too careless you end up being too nice to people by accident and hurt them unnecessarily. Same goes to blogs, isn't it?
Devotion during chapel today was about the powers of the tongue; the powers of words alone. Honestly, the number of weird things that happened to me after I wrote that post on SJAB deserves a blog post of its own but I think I can cut that, haha. Any single thing I write over here in relation to something has to be so carefully written so as not to accidentally offend others (Purposely is another matter) and apparently I still end up doing so. Woe.
Then there're the times where I don't write something about others. I write something about myself, something personal. I mean yeah, it's a public blog, but still it's not like this corner of the internet is going to get invaded by those who seek epic lulz or whatnot, right?
Gosh I swear when some people who don't even know me that well read my blog and talk to me like they know me very well it is the most pissing feeling ever.
It's one thing to read a person's blog and think 'wow, I never knew this side to him' or 'well I never thought of him this way'. It's fine not to bring it up to the person since it might be something personal even if he posted it on his blog. Maybe he didn't mean it for your eyes and it was pretty much coincidence.
It's one thing to read a person's blog and talk to the person about said blogpost while referring to yourself because well honestly some people don't want to hear others talking to them about themselves, especially what of what they've written. Maybe you can relate to him or something, but please make sure you're actually on good terms with the person because few like to talk to dislikable people, let alone know that their blogs are being read by said dislikable person.
And honestly it's darn pissing when you read a person's blog, come to your own conclusion about said person despite knowing full well you probably don't know him that well because you didn't know anything in his 'personal blogpost' and you shove your conclusion in his face thinking that you know the person oh-so-well. I swear it's pissing when that happens. No, you don't. Simple as that.
Yet at the same time I rather not go around placing passwords anywhere because how much good can those possibly do? I don't like the look of boxes for inputting passwords on my blog either XD. But do think about it. If you want to put passwords on a public blog then how're you going to go about blogposts that only certain people (even among those who know the password) should read? It ends up getting more and more unnecessarily complex. It's really much simpler to go with the hopeful assumption that people actually know when they're uninvited and just keep quiet, but of course that never works. Shame, eh.
Haiz. It's nice to hear something definitely, but noise is >_>.
It's nice having -generally- random people come over and comment, and it was somewhat of a surprise when clearly random people just came over and said something (anoel as one haha).
It's nice knowing that you can actually mean something with this blog, knowing that you can help someone with it, give someone ideas with it, make someone's day with it, or at the very least entertain him or her for 5 minutes with it.
Yet there's those times when two letters left out of a long blog post can send someone into annoyance. Words break people just as easily as they make them, and if you're too careless you end up being too nice to people by accident and hurt them unnecessarily. Same goes to blogs, isn't it?
Devotion during chapel today was about the powers of the tongue; the powers of words alone. Honestly, the number of weird things that happened to me after I wrote that post on SJAB deserves a blog post of its own but I think I can cut that, haha. Any single thing I write over here in relation to something has to be so carefully written so as not to accidentally offend others (Purposely is another matter) and apparently I still end up doing so. Woe.
Then there're the times where I don't write something about others. I write something about myself, something personal. I mean yeah, it's a public blog, but still it's not like this corner of the internet is going to get invaded by those who seek epic lulz or whatnot, right?
Gosh I swear when some people who don't even know me that well read my blog and talk to me like they know me very well it is the most pissing feeling ever.
It's one thing to read a person's blog and think 'wow, I never knew this side to him' or 'well I never thought of him this way'. It's fine not to bring it up to the person since it might be something personal even if he posted it on his blog. Maybe he didn't mean it for your eyes and it was pretty much coincidence.
It's one thing to read a person's blog and talk to the person about said blogpost while referring to yourself because well honestly some people don't want to hear others talking to them about themselves, especially what of what they've written. Maybe you can relate to him or something, but please make sure you're actually on good terms with the person because few like to talk to dislikable people, let alone know that their blogs are being read by said dislikable person.
And honestly it's darn pissing when you read a person's blog, come to your own conclusion about said person despite knowing full well you probably don't know him that well because you didn't know anything in his 'personal blogpost' and you shove your conclusion in his face thinking that you know the person oh-so-well. I swear it's pissing when that happens. No, you don't. Simple as that.
Yet at the same time I rather not go around placing passwords anywhere because how much good can those possibly do? I don't like the look of boxes for inputting passwords on my blog either XD. But do think about it. If you want to put passwords on a public blog then how're you going to go about blogposts that only certain people (even among those who know the password) should read? It ends up getting more and more unnecessarily complex. It's really much simpler to go with the hopeful assumption that people actually know when they're uninvited and just keep quiet, but of course that never works. Shame, eh.
Haiz. It's nice to hear something definitely, but noise is >_>.
Friday, September 07, 2007
You
あなたは今どこで何をしていますか？
この空の続く場所にいますか？
今まで私の心を埋めていたモノ
失って初めて気付いた
こんなにも私を支えてくれていたこと
こんなにも笑顔をくれていたこと
失ってしまった代償はとてつもなく大きすぎて
取り戻そうと必死に 手を伸ばしてもがくけれど
まるで風のようにすり抜けて届きそうで届かない
孤独と絶望に胸を締め付けられ
心が壊れそうになるけれど
思い出に残るあなたの笑顔が
私をいつも励ましてくれる
もう一度あの頃に戻ろう
今度はきっと大丈夫
いつもそばで笑っていよう
あなたのすぐそばで・・
あなたは今どこで何をしていますか？
この空の続く場所にいますか？
いつものように笑顔でいてくれますか？
今はただそれを願い続ける
あなたは今どこで何をしていますか？
この空の続く場所にいますか？
------------------------
伝えたいこの思い 風よ星よ
信じて待っていることを
気づけば満点の星 君も見上げてるのかな
解き放たれた私に 授けられた純白の翼
でも舞っているわ 君との約束を終えてるから
届けてこの思い 風よ星よ
全てを包み込む この光
守ってこの思い 風よ星よ
見つけてもらうための 瞬き
もし帰ってきたならば ちょっぴり拗ねてみたいの
君の困った顔が たまらなく愛しいから
そして優しく抱きしめるの はにかんだ顔見たいから
伝えたいこの思い 風よ星よ
信じて待っていることを
見つめてこの思い 風よ星よ
私の代わりに その日まで
翼が羽ばたきたがる 君のもと舞い降りたいと
それでも私は待っているわ 眠りあえるその日まで
-----------------------------
少しずつ近付く 夏の匂いを
あなたの隣で感じていたい
何気ない毎日の一秒一秒が
宝石よりも価値がある 宝物
いつまでもこの時間（とき）が
やさしい日差しに 包まれて守られていますように
そんな 当たり前の日々が 闇に閉ざされたとしても
私はあなたを信じているたとえそれが許されなくても
キラ キラ 輝いていて
ずっとここで微笑んで
なかないで
どうか私の言葉を聞いて
怖がらないで 何もしないから
あなたの為に 一緒に泣いてあげる
お願い そんなに怯えないで
夏のなき声が煩すぎて 私の声が聞こえてないの
少しだけでいいの なき止んで
許すから なきやんで...
ひぐらしの声が言う もう手遅れだと
それでもあなたに手を差し伸べる
どうか私のこと 信じて下さい
”もうなかないでいいよ” とおしえたい
---------------------------
Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni Meakashi-hen - You (Original Vocal, Cry, and some unknown version. Not respectively.)
この空の続く場所にいますか？
今まで私の心を埋めていたモノ
失って初めて気付いた
こんなにも私を支えてくれていたこと
こんなにも笑顔をくれていたこと
失ってしまった代償はとてつもなく大きすぎて
取り戻そうと必死に 手を伸ばしてもがくけれど
まるで風のようにすり抜けて届きそうで届かない
孤独と絶望に胸を締め付けられ
心が壊れそうになるけれど
思い出に残るあなたの笑顔が
私をいつも励ましてくれる
もう一度あの頃に戻ろう
今度はきっと大丈夫
いつもそばで笑っていよう
あなたのすぐそばで・・
あなたは今どこで何をしていますか？
この空の続く場所にいますか？
いつものように笑顔でいてくれますか？
今はただそれを願い続ける
あなたは今どこで何をしていますか？
この空の続く場所にいますか？
------------------------
伝えたいこの思い 風よ星よ
信じて待っていることを
気づけば満点の星 君も見上げてるのかな
解き放たれた私に 授けられた純白の翼
でも舞っているわ 君との約束を終えてるから
届けてこの思い 風よ星よ
全てを包み込む この光
守ってこの思い 風よ星よ
見つけてもらうための 瞬き
もし帰ってきたならば ちょっぴり拗ねてみたいの
君の困った顔が たまらなく愛しいから
そして優しく抱きしめるの はにかんだ顔見たいから
伝えたいこの思い 風よ星よ
信じて待っていることを
見つめてこの思い 風よ星よ
私の代わりに その日まで
翼が羽ばたきたがる 君のもと舞い降りたいと
それでも私は待っているわ 眠りあえるその日まで
-----------------------------
少しずつ近付く 夏の匂いを
あなたの隣で感じていたい
何気ない毎日の一秒一秒が
宝石よりも価値がある 宝物
いつまでもこの時間（とき）が
やさしい日差しに 包まれて守られていますように
そんな 当たり前の日々が 闇に閉ざされたとしても
私はあなたを信じているたとえそれが許されなくても
キラ キラ 輝いていて
ずっとここで微笑んで
なかないで
どうか私の言葉を聞いて
怖がらないで 何もしないから
あなたの為に 一緒に泣いてあげる
お願い そんなに怯えないで
夏のなき声が煩すぎて 私の声が聞こえてないの
少しだけでいいの なき止んで
許すから なきやんで...
ひぐらしの声が言う もう手遅れだと
それでもあなたに手を差し伸べる
どうか私のこと 信じて下さい
”もうなかないでいいよ” とおしえたい
---------------------------
Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni Meakashi-hen - You (Original Vocal, Cry, and some unknown version. Not respectively.)
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Rolling a Seven
(Along a street)
The Gambler: Hey lad, spare an old man a tad o'cash for a mug o'beer?
Albert: And what do I get in return, mister?
The Gambler: Three games, how about that? Cards, dice, the simple coin.
Albert: I'm gambling with a beggar? What can I win from you in the first place?
The Gambler: What makes you think I've nothing? And more importantly, what makes you think you'll win? Sit down, lad, and I'll tell'ya something.
Albert: Go on. Let's place this at 2 bucks.
The Gambler: Every single day's a gamble in the game of life, young man, and what you're taking part in is just one of the millions to come. Ask you a question. What's the lucky number?
Albert: ...seven?
The Gambler: A bright one, lad. Now roll this dice. Let's see if you're lucky.
Albert: But a dice has only six sides! How am I supposed to roll a seven anyway?
The Gambler: Yer' right. But that's life, isn't it? You never strike lucky on the very first dice if you just jump straight in. So what do you do? Throw two dice. Let's see where that gets you.
Albert: ...4 and 5.
The Gambler: And that's the other thing. Ya don't get the seven for trying again. Tell me, lad. I throw a 2. What would I need to get the seven?
Albert: The five?
The Gambler: Right, and where do you find the five?
Albert: ...the opposite end of the two?
The Gambler: Exactly, lad. That's where you get your seven - from the very two ends. And ya gotta do it at one shot, too. Here, I'll throw another one of my own dice.
(The dice flies into the air, lands on the ground, and breaks in half, with one half landing on 1 and the other on 6.)
The Gambler: Don't worry about that, I can fix it no 'prob. But ya see what I mean, lad? That's what life is - ya gotta hit seven, and ya only got one chance each time. What'cha gonna do about it? Now let's take the cards instead. Heard of blackjack?
Albert: Rarely see one who hasn't.
The Gambler: Good to know. Now let's just take one hand, shall we? I'll deal. One up, one down.
Albert: And we both have an ace up.
The Gambler: Oh, the odds! Another question, lad. What's the value of ace?
Albert: One or eleven?
The Gambler: Then what's the value of your ace? Let's turn around the other card, shall we?
Albert: ...another ace. What's the chances.
The Gambler: And blackjack. Ask a question again. What makes one a one? And more importantly, what makes one an eleven?
Albert: A one's one purely because it is the first in the series? That was quite obvious. And what makes one an eleven is the prestige of the card being first?
The Gambler: What does an ace imply, then? You don't seem to be catching this.
Albert: ...skill?
The Gambler: Exactly, my lad! Skill and mastery! That is what differentiates an ace from a jack! The jack shall never be a master of anything. Yet what is a picture that even the ace is not?
Albert: Royalty?
The Gambler: Again on the spot, my lad! The ace is but a pauper, my friend, but remember; the prince would not be as loved had he not met the pauper. And that is why royalty and ace make blackjack, my friend. Again my friend remember that, royalty is bested by the common man, but two aces do not beat two kings. It is when the lowest and the highest of hierarchies meet where blackjack is met. Now let's take a simple coin toss, the last one shall we. What do you call?
Albert: Tails?
The Gambler: And what would the other choice be?
Albert: Heads?
The Gambler: Right, lad.
Albert: How does this fit in with what you said with the other two? I don't see how you're going to split that coin in half.
The Gambler: Sharp one, lad. But do listen. When life gives us choices, we always see what's directly in front of us. We don't search. You couldn't give me an answer for rolling a seven, and you can't give me an answer now because you can't split the coin. But lad, sometimes the answer just ain't that obvious. People only see the heads and the tails. The dots go from 1 to 6.
(The gambler flips the coin, and it lands in the middle of a crack among bricks along the street, balancing itself at neither heads nor tails.)
The Gambler: But it's these sorts of answers that really let you win the gambles, lad. Answers that shock the world, maybe even yourself. Answers that make the world wonder "how did he just pull that off?". Remember, friend. Every choice in a life is a gamble, it's just how often you roll the seven.
Albert: I see. So that means I've won the gamble, right? I think I'll be going off, then. Oh, and don't use the money to buy beer, will you? Get a cup of coffee or something; or tea, I've started to grow a liking towards it recently.
The Gambler: Haha, I'll keep that in mind, lad! But what makes you say that you've won?
Albert: You've given me more than my two dollar's worth, simple as that, mister. I'll be on my way, and maybe later on I'll roll another seven, hmm?
(Albert leaves.)
The Gambler: ...A wise one, lad.
-------------------------------------------
I don't even know what made me think about this.
The Gambler: Hey lad, spare an old man a tad o'cash for a mug o'beer?
Albert: And what do I get in return, mister?
The Gambler: Three games, how about that? Cards, dice, the simple coin.
Albert: I'm gambling with a beggar? What can I win from you in the first place?
The Gambler: What makes you think I've nothing? And more importantly, what makes you think you'll win? Sit down, lad, and I'll tell'ya something.
Albert: Go on. Let's place this at 2 bucks.
The Gambler: Every single day's a gamble in the game of life, young man, and what you're taking part in is just one of the millions to come. Ask you a question. What's the lucky number?
Albert: ...seven?
The Gambler: A bright one, lad. Now roll this dice. Let's see if you're lucky.
Albert: But a dice has only six sides! How am I supposed to roll a seven anyway?
The Gambler: Yer' right. But that's life, isn't it? You never strike lucky on the very first dice if you just jump straight in. So what do you do? Throw two dice. Let's see where that gets you.
Albert: ...4 and 5.
The Gambler: And that's the other thing. Ya don't get the seven for trying again. Tell me, lad. I throw a 2. What would I need to get the seven?
Albert: The five?
The Gambler: Right, and where do you find the five?
Albert: ...the opposite end of the two?
The Gambler: Exactly, lad. That's where you get your seven - from the very two ends. And ya gotta do it at one shot, too. Here, I'll throw another one of my own dice.
(The dice flies into the air, lands on the ground, and breaks in half, with one half landing on 1 and the other on 6.)
The Gambler: Don't worry about that, I can fix it no 'prob. But ya see what I mean, lad? That's what life is - ya gotta hit seven, and ya only got one chance each time. What'cha gonna do about it? Now let's take the cards instead. Heard of blackjack?
Albert: Rarely see one who hasn't.
The Gambler: Good to know. Now let's just take one hand, shall we? I'll deal. One up, one down.
Albert: And we both have an ace up.
The Gambler: Oh, the odds! Another question, lad. What's the value of ace?
Albert: One or eleven?
The Gambler: Then what's the value of your ace? Let's turn around the other card, shall we?
Albert: ...another ace. What's the chances.
The Gambler: And blackjack. Ask a question again. What makes one a one? And more importantly, what makes one an eleven?
Albert: A one's one purely because it is the first in the series? That was quite obvious. And what makes one an eleven is the prestige of the card being first?
The Gambler: What does an ace imply, then? You don't seem to be catching this.
Albert: ...skill?
The Gambler: Exactly, my lad! Skill and mastery! That is what differentiates an ace from a jack! The jack shall never be a master of anything. Yet what is a picture that even the ace is not?
Albert: Royalty?
The Gambler: Again on the spot, my lad! The ace is but a pauper, my friend, but remember; the prince would not be as loved had he not met the pauper. And that is why royalty and ace make blackjack, my friend. Again my friend remember that, royalty is bested by the common man, but two aces do not beat two kings. It is when the lowest and the highest of hierarchies meet where blackjack is met. Now let's take a simple coin toss, the last one shall we. What do you call?
Albert: Tails?
The Gambler: And what would the other choice be?
Albert: Heads?
The Gambler: Right, lad.
Albert: How does this fit in with what you said with the other two? I don't see how you're going to split that coin in half.
The Gambler: Sharp one, lad. But do listen. When life gives us choices, we always see what's directly in front of us. We don't search. You couldn't give me an answer for rolling a seven, and you can't give me an answer now because you can't split the coin. But lad, sometimes the answer just ain't that obvious. People only see the heads and the tails. The dots go from 1 to 6.
(The gambler flips the coin, and it lands in the middle of a crack among bricks along the street, balancing itself at neither heads nor tails.)
The Gambler: But it's these sorts of answers that really let you win the gambles, lad. Answers that shock the world, maybe even yourself. Answers that make the world wonder "how did he just pull that off?". Remember, friend. Every choice in a life is a gamble, it's just how often you roll the seven.
Albert: I see. So that means I've won the gamble, right? I think I'll be going off, then. Oh, and don't use the money to buy beer, will you? Get a cup of coffee or something; or tea, I've started to grow a liking towards it recently.
The Gambler: Haha, I'll keep that in mind, lad! But what makes you say that you've won?
Albert: You've given me more than my two dollar's worth, simple as that, mister. I'll be on my way, and maybe later on I'll roll another seven, hmm?
(Albert leaves.)
The Gambler: ...A wise one, lad.
-------------------------------------------
I don't even know what made me think about this.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Seasons and Eternity
It's a pity that among all the people I know, only Johnny has watched both Toki Wo Kakeru Shoujo and Byousoku 5cm. Somewhat just as much that apart from him, only XM, SZ, Dneo and JY have at least watched one. Seems like not that many people will get the reasoning behind writing this one =p
After thinking about it somewhat and looking at the ending songs, Garnet and One More Time, One More Chance, I started wondering how different they really were.
Tokikake is simply put a story of a girl who learns the importance of her loved ones and the importance of time through a series of fortunate and unfortunate events (So generically put that it fails to spoil people). Byousoku 5cm is, aptly put by the movie itself, "a chain of short stories about their distance." Both deal with the concepts of time, distance, human emotions, relationships etc. Perfectly down-to-earth unlike Paprika and most Miyazaki films, haha.
Yet how much more different can the two songs be? One focuses on the past and remembering it for as long as possible, the other talks about searching and seeking, and finding again. Ironically, the one who cares more about remembering the past is far more optimistic about the seasons coming again (Perhaps because for her it's already ended) compared to the one wishing for the seasons not to end and hopelessly searching for a now-lost cause.
Maybe it's just because the two are different in nature. Tokikake uses Summer as a seasonal point compared to Winter in Byousoku 5cm. Innocence, passion and youth compared to coldness, frigidity and loneliness. Maybe it's just because that the former had a far more hopeful ending and was more moralistic in nature. Maybe it's because Makoto had already conquered time once, hence her hopefulness towards the return of Chiaki.
Makoto reminds me of both Takaki and Akari at the same time, mainly because she is very much what Takaki goes through, but yet her character at the end is strangely far more like Akari's. A previously unimportant question suddenly becomes more prominent; what did Akari think of Takaki in the end? A mere shadow of the past? Or did she love him like she did before? What of the marriage, then?
Both films talk about moving on, Makoto and Akari alike; except that Byousoku 5cm wasn't about Akari, it was about Takaki. Why was it the girl who managed to move on in both cases and not the guy? Even Chiaki was an emo bugger near the end.
When Makoto's Aunt Kazuko decided not to timeleap in the end of her own story (In the manga version, novel version is probably somewhat different), it was because she felt that there was no need. She had already remembered her favourite moment with the person she liked, and she would never forget it. That was enough to her.
Interesting food for thought, huh. K nevermind I need to do work or people will start worrying about me again from the shadows. Or maybe said people have already disappeared and I'll never have noticed, haha. What can I say? Gone without the goodbye. Wonder when the return is.
After thinking about it somewhat and looking at the ending songs, Garnet and One More Time, One More Chance, I started wondering how different they really were.
Tokikake is simply put a story of a girl who learns the importance of her loved ones and the importance of time through a series of fortunate and unfortunate events (So generically put that it fails to spoil people). Byousoku 5cm is, aptly put by the movie itself, "a chain of short stories about their distance." Both deal with the concepts of time, distance, human emotions, relationships etc. Perfectly down-to-earth unlike Paprika and most Miyazaki films, haha.
Yet how much more different can the two songs be? One focuses on the past and remembering it for as long as possible, the other talks about searching and seeking, and finding again. Ironically, the one who cares more about remembering the past is far more optimistic about the seasons coming again (Perhaps because for her it's already ended) compared to the one wishing for the seasons not to end and hopelessly searching for a now-lost cause.
Maybe it's just because the two are different in nature. Tokikake uses Summer as a seasonal point compared to Winter in Byousoku 5cm. Innocence, passion and youth compared to coldness, frigidity and loneliness. Maybe it's just because that the former had a far more hopeful ending and was more moralistic in nature. Maybe it's because Makoto had already conquered time once, hence her hopefulness towards the return of Chiaki.
Makoto reminds me of both Takaki and Akari at the same time, mainly because she is very much what Takaki goes through, but yet her character at the end is strangely far more like Akari's. A previously unimportant question suddenly becomes more prominent; what did Akari think of Takaki in the end? A mere shadow of the past? Or did she love him like she did before? What of the marriage, then?
Both films talk about moving on, Makoto and Akari alike; except that Byousoku 5cm wasn't about Akari, it was about Takaki. Why was it the girl who managed to move on in both cases and not the guy? Even Chiaki was an emo bugger near the end.
When Makoto's Aunt Kazuko decided not to timeleap in the end of her own story (In the manga version, novel version is probably somewhat different), it was because she felt that there was no need. She had already remembered her favourite moment with the person she liked, and she would never forget it. That was enough to her.
Interesting food for thought, huh. K nevermind I need to do work or people will start worrying about me again from the shadows. Or maybe said people have already disappeared and I'll never have noticed, haha. What can I say? Gone without the goodbye. Wonder when the return is.
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