Math 'n' Me

I hate numbers

I hate math

I hate counting

I'm going mad!

Two plus two?

I know that

Four times four?

Sweet sixteen

That's what I thought

math would mean!

Now there's more

And the alphabet too

With 3 and x

and the square root

of two

Lines are now x and y

And no, circles aren't pies.

But there is Construct the angle bisector of GHI

That's it!

I'm through

Algebra, I've had enough of you!

I don't want my brain to fry

Although my eyes are already

running dry

Oh well

Math you're okay

But please,

no more, no more

of

I'M HAPPY:)

You know, there's something about happiness that you just got to love. Even if it takes a while for that bout of joy to flow through our veins. And you know what that is? It is how it suddenly bursts out of you, making you want to jump out of your seat, dance around the house, frolic in the garden, twirl under the trees till you plop on the ground with your teeth smiling at the sun. I did something like that today. I think I even invented my own pirouette, although I have no clue of ballet. I'd like to tell you how it started, but I think it sounds better in rhyme:

First you feel a tingle
Then your feet start to jingle

Your arms start flinging
And you can't stop singing

And then you spin
And spin
and spin

But you're not tired
'cause happiness
has been hired

To make your grim
face grin!

Now your body sways
And you forget the
bad days

Then you jump up
up high
And try to touch the sky

But you land shortly
and sigh

Your arms stop flinging
Your voice isn't singing

You aren't spinning
spinning
and spinning

But don't worry if your feet don't jingle
'Cause now you know happiness
only needs a tingle!

Copyright:)

I Found a Poem Today!

My mom told me about the days where she and her class in the Philippines would memorize and recite poems for their English class. And not only did they recite, they recited with great poise and dramatization. And you know what? They did that in 5th grade!

There was one poem that I like the most. My mom's friend's poem. I went to find it today, and its actually a love poem by Edgar Allan Poe. Its a bit sad though....

Here it is:

ANNABELLE LEE

Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Then it got me thinking: where is this kingdom by the sea?

Another Day Cherished

I was talking to a friend of mine today. But not just any friend, a best friend I hope to keep. Although she is far away, I can hear her voice, her contagious laughter, bouncing off the peeling white walls in the living room.

Over here, people are just about to start the day with a cup of coffee in their hands as they flip through the weekend papers at the dining table. And maybe, as they sip their morning coffee, there is a child rubbing his sleepy eyes as he walks to the kitchen to ask, "What's for breakfast, Mama?" And his mama would tell him to brush his teeth first, and when he does there is jam and nutella in the middle of the table with a plate of toast by its side. Then the child would grab a spoon full of nutella and spread it all over his toast, and get his face smudged in chocolate. The day has only just begun.

But over there, where my friend is, everyone has finished their dinner and are getting ready to sleep. Some, may be doing last minute homework, some, may have come back from watching a movie with her friends. Tired, she sinks into her bed for a moment heaving out a sigh; maybe even saying," What a day!" Then she spots her computer and types in the website she knows where everyone's going to be on: Facebook. She flips through notifications, newsfeeds and sees somebody, maybe far away like me, online and talk for hours just like my best friend and I.

Sometimes, time gives you a chance to spend the moments you have been missing. The moments you wish you were there. The moments that get you back on your feet to start moving again. The moments that just makes you smile and make your day wonderful. And the moments, although how crazy it would seem, where you suddenly can actually hear laughter in the distance, where you can feel the ocean breeze touching your face.

But time, time has its ways. And the breeze dies down and the laughter fades away, and my dear friend, having beseeched at for hours, finally says goodbye and I in turn say goodbye too; and I wonder if that friend is smiling in her sleep now, knowing that that goodbye won't last forever.

He Got No One, But His Dog

Old Candy

he got no family

got no one

but his dog.

His old

old

ancient dog.

Who follows him around

Who got no teeth

Who stinks like hell

Carlson wants 'em

he wants 'em

dead.

He's too old, Candy, he says

Too old.

An' so he shot 'im

just like that

Old Candy

he got no family

got no one

but his dog

He had 'im for a long

long

time.

He feeds 'im milk

He herd sheep with 'im

He loves 'im.

And it got shot that day

just like that

Just

like

that.

Old Candy

he got no family

got no one

but is dog

Now he's lyin'

on his bed

wondering why

why

he didn' kill 'im

himself.

SOL: Touched by an Angel

"Alright people," Mr. Bustos commanded," I want you to make a drawing out of these poems I handed out to you."

"Who are these poems by?" Katy asked.

"Maya Angelou!" I said aloud(to myself actually).

Mr. Bustos murmured a "yes" and walked back to his desk.

My poem was called I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, same as Eleanor's, who was seated at my table with Mehr and I. I looked at Mehr's poem title, Alone, and giggled. Mehr made a funny frown face.

"I don't like mine!" she complained.

"Like what?" Eleanor asked, looking up from her sketch.

"This," Mehr showed her the poem. Eleanor giggled too.

"Here," Eleanor said," let me change it," and she went to the table in front of us where Katy, Sara, Stephanie and Daniela sat to trade.

After a few seconds, she came back with a new one, Touched by an Angel. Mehr seemed delighted and we started to sketch. Then out of the blue,"I wonder how you can be touched be an angel?" Mehr said to herself.

Both Eleanor and I looked up and wondered too. Suddenly, Eleanor stood up, made her hands look like wings as she made a halleluyah sound and poked Mehr on the forehead. We all burst into laughter and mimiced what she just did again and again till the bell rang.

Keeping Things to Yourself

I got to say, I don't think I'm good at keeping things to myself; they are bound to just simply slip out of my mouth eventually. Just yesterday, I spoiled the ending of a good book by accidentally telling a friend that someone gets killed in it. And today I leaked a small conversation I had with a friend to somebody,who in turn, asked about it to the friend, and that friend asked why I told her. Pretty confusing, but you kind of get it, right? I kind of feel guilty now that I think about it. And that's not all of it, I think I have forgotten all the other "slipped-out-of-my-mouths" that must have occured in the beginning of the year.

What do you think I should do?

I Got George, An' George Got Me

I like to pet soft things
But sometimes
I pet 'em too hard
And George'll give me hell.
He said he could never get
no peace with me.
And Crooks said George coulda'
went inta town and I won't hear of 'im
no more.
But I know George
I know he wun't leave
me.
I know he wouldn'
Know why?
'Cuz we ain't those guys
who got no family
sittin' and blowin'
their jack in some
bar room
'cuz no one gives a damn 'bout them.
No sir.
I got George
An' George got me
tha's why.
And if I don' give 'im
no hell
George wil' lemme tend
rabbits
those little furry ones
When we live
offa
the fatta land.
And George says tha's
gonna be soon.

Inspired by Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Grandma's Farm

"Remember the time we stayed at Grandma's farm?" Mom asked from the kitchen as I settled prostrate on the couch turning on the T.V.

"Yeah," I replied impetuously.

"Well, she's selling it," Mom replied slightly agitated at my haughtiness.

I froze in consternation.

"What?" was all that escaped my mouth.

"She's selling it, Lina."

The sounds from the movie on the televiosion screen started to drain in my racing thoughts. Haven't she said we could come back anytime? I pondered. I could picture my cousins, Julie and Carrie, and I plucking berries from her berry bushes, making sounds of revelry as we skipped along the beaten path. I remember putting together bright flowers from Grandma's garden to make garlands for Mom and Dad. I recall the delectable taste of Grandma's bluberry pie made from the berries we picked when we had that lavish dinner at her house on the last day of our stay; everyone, Mom, Dad, Julie and Carrie, Grandma, Uncle Henry and Aunt Trudy(Julie and Carrie's parents) and me, were at the table, our faces lit up with rapture.

"Lina?" Mom's voice cut off my flashbacks, " You okay?"

"Tell her not to sell it, Mom," I beseeched.

"It's not my choice, sweetie. Just feel privileged to have such a gratifying childhood," she strided from the kitchen and hugged me tightly.

I stared at the credits on the screen as she squeezed me. They were appearing and disappearing--changing, like my life starting from now.

Language

I was never great or even good at Chinese; in fact, I was one of the "suckers" in my class. I never had a full grasp on it even when I reviewed it over and over and over again. I never could even speak a correct sentence in Chinese, they were always mixed with English. And during chinese class, when the teacher talks --who by the way always speaks in Chinese no matter what--I just stare into space, doodle, and only understand a quarter of what she was saying.
And there are times where I feel as if I'm a disgrace or something because my chinese is not spot on. It may not mean anything to you, maybe a little, but sometimes knowing a language you are familiar with can go a long way.

Sick.

The room seemed to spin, my head seemed heavy, my eyes sore. I have come down with a cold--intentionally. I wanted to skip school and escape the countless worksheets and boring teacher talks-- but I didn't know my plan would be this miserable! Sitting in front of the fan after a cold, cold shower and falling a little sick was all I had in mind!

I shivered under the many layers of blankets Mom had put for me as she took my temperature. It was near dinner and I could hear the kids outside playing from the open window--that displayed the warmth of the outdoors-- in my now seemingly dull and freezing room.

"Well that's pretty high," she said reaching foreward to feel my scorching forehead.

Her touch made goose bumps run down my spine, I shivered again and snuggled deeper into the sheets. Why is it so warm outside, when I'm cold?

" Thank goodness your Dad's passing the pharmacy," she continued as she went to the bathroom to wash the thermometre," he'll get you some medicine."

I groaned at the shivers and dizziness from my fever.

"You better not get sick again," my Mom said keeping the thermometre back into its case,"you don't want to suffer this much pain, do you?"

No, never again, I thought as I turned to the side and fell asleep.

3WW

Elliot, who was making sounds of revelry in the car, had the privilege of being invited to a lavish dinner by the Queen. He had taken a long time to snap out of his consternation as he prepared to go to the Palace. But with his impetuous attitude he had plucked one of his most undelectable clothing from his wardrobe, not having to ponder as he exited his home.

As Elliot haughtily entered the elegant dining room that had the most carefully carved artworks on the walls, he noticed the Queen's face had turned into a ungratified look. He darted his face to other directions, the same look. Suddenly, Elliot broke into sweat and rushed towards the nearest exit on a whim, leaving the banquet of watchful eyes behind him.

What to Do?

Dad says we're going to leave soon; but he also says we still might stay. I want to go because I'm starting to get bored about school--I want to go somewhere else. But Mom said Dad has to wait for another job to come up, and if it doesn't then we're going to have to stay. I want to stay too, I want to be with my friends I got here. And anyway, school won't get so boring till the new kids come!

I don't know...I don't know what to do. I'm confused, I'm at a cross road, I'm lost. What about you? Have you ever felt this way before?

Do You Remember...?

Description

A selection of poems that describe the essences of life that makes you remember the ups and downs and the smiles and frowns we had that we have forgotten.



Synopsis

A selection of poems about distant memories.

Life is Fine By Langston Hughes

Requiescat By Matthew Arnold

The City By C.P Cavafy

The Hand By Mary Ruefle

The Swing By Robert Louis Stevenson

Playgrounds By Laurence Alma-Tadema

Beach

Glistening under the
setting sun
It charges up
under and over my feet, bringing powder,
shells and other marine
objects to the earth. It feels
cool. Like the cold floor
after the rain. It hugs the powdery ground
like a blanket, my toes wiggling in delight
making small circles on the chalky
floor.
Hopping out, I catch a glimpse
of my footprints, before the aquas drag them
away into the ocean
where they will float down
awaiting the next time
they will rise up
again.

Literature Acrostic

Laying my head on the lunch table, my eyes in the level with my sandwich in the shrouded light of shadows, I around my friends. They are smiling. They are laughing like the flowers have finally bloomed.

Instantly I thought of what I'd miss from all of these laughters. Will I ever hear these soothing sirens again? Can my ears still echo them ?

Too much to think. Too much to ask.

Everyone's thoughts are linked by a single thread of beads that hold the reason why we are together in the first place.

Running out of time, with every second ticking away, the beads of the the threads begin to dwindle in the light.

As the bell rang, I snapped out of my conscience. The shadows over my sandwich started to disappear from my sandwich.

Taking a last bite I tossed my sandwich in the bin and started swimming in the endless pool of students.

Under that pool, I thought, are the feet of a girl that is worried she might forget where her footsteps have gone.

Reluctant to let go, I pushed away what I came up with into a corner where I would pass it someday and answer these unsolved questions,

Etched up in the sky

Tanka

It had mystery
Ghosts and getting swung through time,
a little kid lost
a crowded street of people
a dream someone got lost in


It may not sound as well as my acrostics but I really had this urge to write this dream I had today.

Hairs Acrostic

Heaping cascades
Altering stone
I nundating gracefully
Reawakened afresh
Seemingly everlasting

Clouds Acrostic

Clusters of cotton
Loose with the wind are
Oracles of rain
Upon the blue
Dancing in the day
Saturating the evening

Poetry Acrostic

P assionate writers express themselves by stringing together imagery, art, and wisdom with their own splash of style--these are the artists of literature, these people write poetry. Petry describes loneliness like the empty seats of a ferris wheel dancing alone with the air at an abandoned amusement park. It describes joy, with every line shaping a smile on your face. And even envy and anger that is wrestling out to end the poets' misery in each stanza.

O ften hard to decode, the beauty of these handpicked words usually disappear unheard--deafened by the lack of listeners. But those who listen, find the key. And those who put them together, are left spellbound. Just like the dove that appears from the magician's hands. Just like magic.

E loquent could be what we say. But it's the way our heart, mind and soul reacts to the impact of the words that makes us say that: your heart skips beats, your mind in a cloud, your soul finding peace. This is the black and white that pulls you into another world.

T o express these feelings they used metaphors. To draw the picture the poet is trying to depict, he used repetition. They're the painters of the masterpieces in our head that makes us wonder.

R eading poetry once only lingers in your mind. Read it twice, you'll hear the voice of the poet narrating his story. Read it once more, and it'll inspire you and stay in your heart.

Y es, yes, this is poetry to me. Yes, yes, poetry comes from the heart. The mind. Yes,yes, it comes from the soul.

Balboa Acrostic

Boy, do all days start like this.

A bus ride to school, a short stroll to the entrance, and through the doors we see life. I like it when the people I know are there--we always have something to talk about, something new, unexpected.

Laughter can be heard in every corner, songs are sung, and time seems to fly so fast, you'd think you have just arrived. You feel like you're on a cloud.

But sometimes, when you had a bad night, drowsiness takes over and the sounds are all muffled and your cloud feels heavy.

Our school bell rings and a stampede forms towards the door.

And the start of hell--I mean classes--begins.

S.O.L #31: I Got A Hair Cut!

Snipping across hair

Black water cascading down

to the floor piling.

My hair shortens and reaches

the shoulders, starting anew.

S.O.L #30: I'm Sore.

I am sore all over! I tagged along with my mom to aerobics class today, and I think the room is still spinning....My legs are shaky, my arms stiff, my stomach aching-- and guess what? I'm going again tomorrow--the pain, the pain! Let's just hope it won't be as painful as today, bye!

S.O.L #29: Look at the Moon, She's Shining Up There!

We stopped at a traffic light. The coast near the freeway looks brighter than usual at this time of night, I thought. I leaned forward from the back seat and craned my neck up the windshield between my parents who were having a conversation and what a sight! It was a full moon, the other sphere that illuminates the night sky--it's enormous than usual, and is it gold? I have to start noticing things.

" Look, look!" I yelled, pressing my face against the window pointing at the moon as the car hit drive," It's a full moon today!''

Mom and Dad didn't even flinch--they must be really involved in their conversation, I told myself.

As we drove to the deli and waited for Mom to come out, I began to make up childish reasons why the moon was never noticed by me: (a) because she (it?) is shy and hides behind the clouds, (b) maybe since the sky is like a stage--everyone looks at it--and it's stage fright.

When we got home, the moon was even brighter. Weird, eh? The moon has many mystical ways, and it still does mystify us today.

S.O.L #28: On the Way to El Valle....

A long path welcomes--
when the valley sends two birds,
wing spans of promise.

S.O.L #27: Book-less

This just hit me a few minutes ago--it's hard to find a book you want to read, when you have that urge to. I don't really know why, but I just noticed, when you want to read a book when you're bored, no book that you have or have read excites you. Never. Right now I'm searching for a book online to find at the bookstores in Panama(you'd be suprised on their varieties!).

Anyone have any suggestions? Leave a comment please!

S.O.L #26: Ping-Pong

Yeji, I missed what we did today
when we both watched the tiny white speck disappear
to the other side.

In minutes that white speck has transformed
from a cloud in your hand to a
weapon of stupidity.

I can hear the laughs,
those hysterical ones, where we
couldn't help but fall on the cold, dusty floor
and try to bring ourselves back from our worlds.

The boys on the other table are in their own world too: they shout
as if we weren't there, they ignore us when we tell them to shut up
Their clouds fly out crazily just like ours: I think
it broke the ceiling light.

And if you thought about it, P.E. wasn't as bad
as when we just sat on the droopy, wooden stage floor doing nothing but
talk, and soccer, basketball, we had not bothered to play

screaming at us to participate and get a grade. This is the P.E. we're both
failing for.
The bell has rung: time passed like a speeding bullet, like that
comet in G-3, where we both fell to our knees

under the table, that ocean blue table
where we, pathetic players played:
a silly game of Ping-Pong.

S.O.L in collaboration with Confession Tuesday

I have been procratinating a lot lately. I usually remember my homework in my head. But after Carnival I've been real sloppy and I keep on telling myself I can do everything later. And when later comes, I forget--some of it. I had already forgotten to send Mrs. Brown my vignettes, practice what I was going to say for Science, and.... There's only one solution: cut off my T.V intake--and begin to write things down.

As Mrs. Brown once said," Procrastination is the cause of all your woes." (You got that right!)

Spotlight: On "He is A Fool" Discussion

Mama said George Murchison and Booker T. are both fools because they think Afican-Americans should only do whatever needs to be done--not an education. They don't realize education is part of self-fulfillment.

According to George in A Raisin in the Sun he said to Beneatha(who is well educated)," I don't go out with you to discuss the nature of "quiet desperation" or to hear all about your thoughts--because the world will go on thinking what it thinks regardless..." meaning he thinks learning doesn't have to do with thought.

From what Mrs. Johnson said about Booker T. Washington,"...I always thinks like Booker T. Washington said that time--" Education has spoiled many a good plow hand." Which I think means he saying since more people of his race is having an education, there's no one else to serve the whites, which I think is wrong as the time of slavery has ended, and things should start to change--not stay the same.

Both George and Booker T. think that achieveing economic respect can get you accepted in white society. They don't think knowledge, and understanding your heritage will help change society. That's what they both have in common.

Spotlight: On Beneatha and Mama

Many characters in literature, as in life, usually search for a new way of life. The first character in A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry who wants a better way of life is Beneatha. Unlike Walter, Ruth, and Mama who have given up on education, Beneatha took this oppurtunity to get an education and become a doctor.

Beneatha is hoping to gain the acceptance from her family that she doesn't have to follow the usual way of getting married to someone with money and then worrying about education, as stated on page 50: "Listen, I'm going to be a doctor. I'm not worried about who I'm marrying yet--if I ever get married." Beneatha attempts to bring out the change in her life by reconnecting to her roots in Africa on page 77 where she dances to a folk dance from Nigeria in a Nigerian robe her friend Asagai, and be one of the many few women in 1959 becoming a doctor.

Another character fron A Raisn in the Sun who wants to change their way of life is Mama. Mama wants to change her way of life by getting that house with a garden where she would grow many plants she and her late husband Walter always dreamed of. But the only garden she has in the Younger apartment is a shriveled plant in a pot after her husband commited suicide. Like she said on page 45, " And didn't none of it happen." But something did happen. Upon recieving the $10,000 check, she attempts to bring about this change by buying a house for the whole Younger family hoping to gain back the falling pieces that her family was losing. Although her son, Walter, wasn't happy about her doing she tells him " When it gets like that in life--you just got to do something different, push on out and do something bigger."

In literature, as in life, a character may search for a better way of life. And how they search for it, what they hope to gain, and their attempts to bring about change, pulls them closer to their own identity.

The Branded Backpacker: Day 10, Hello. Goodbye.

I'm flyng off today. You cannot imagine how much I will miss this place. But we'll come back, won't we? All my bags set, heavy or not, clothes, jacket, shoes, moisturizer, things to entertain myself, and most of all, me.

The atmosphere in this room is all gloomy. No one wants to go. Kisha doesn't either. Her face was drenched in sadness. But what can we do? I have school, Dad's got work, vacations don't last forever unless you're retired. And which I'm not. At least I'll meet my friends in Panama again. At least I'll have something to do again. At least I know I'm on land and won't be flying around the globe for a while.

My eyes are heavy from all the packing, the walking, the laughing, and crying. So here I come miserable flight. In my long sleeve navy shirt and leggings with my Coach bag and check-in, my Fila shoes, and the headband I secretly smugggled from Kisha's dorm. Here we come.

This will be my last blog for this little series of travel journals, I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The Branded Backpacker: Day 9, The End of the Beginning

Why hello there!

Oh crap, school is coming. Really, really soon. It's a whisker away. And I'm going to take the most dreadful, crappy, pathetic, sickening, and whatever words you can find that can describe my misery to my flight back to Panama.*haaa-leh-lu-ya* It just had to be SIN-NAR-LAX-houston-PTY! Why can't it be SIN-MIA-PTY?!

'Oh, because the airline hasn't agreed on any contract to make it another destination.'

Fabulous.

Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. Right now I'm just in some Nike shirt that says 'MAXOUT' and track shorts.

Hello synthetic plane food. Hello airsickness.

The Branded Backpacker: Day 8, I Just Remembered

Today was boring if you stayed in the house and did these things:

1) Staring blankly at the screen waiting for a video to load.

2) Watching the T.V blindly and making some OOO's and AAH's during the process.

3) Scribbling and shading and sketching pictures of polaroid and fisheye cameras with vigor.

4) Listening to music and taking the lyrics to thought.

5) Playing MARIO bros. till the DS battery died.

6) Resting your head on your palm and sighing every now and then.

7) Putting lotion after a shower.

8) Combing your hair.

9) Think of things you know won't ever happen. (Or could it?)

10) Remembering you're going to see your sister's dorm in a matter of minutes.

Oh. I just remembered. Well I'll go out simple tonight then:

A black tank top from TOPHSOP, some white shorts, a green over-blouse, and my grey Clarks. Maybe I'll tie up my hair today...yeah I'll do that. I wonder where's my hair tie....

The Branded Backpacker: Day 7 , A Night With Near Death

Last night wasn't like any other night.

After my boring outing, when all the aunties went home, me and Dad went to pick Kisha up in Vivo City(it's a huge and marvelous shopping centre in Singapore). After we took some wrong turns and misleading signs we found her and hopped on the car, where my Dad had to scour the whole carpark to look for it.

Then Kisha wanted to see some apartments that are for rent. And blahblahblah. When we were reversing out of the place, remember it's nighttime, I said it was clear on both sides(I was in the backseat), while my Dad was reversing to the other lane, kind of fast for some god-knows-what reason, and Kisha was blabbering about how her friends could share the apartment, right there some crazy motorcyclist just appeared out of nowhere--speeding; in two blinks he was already about to ram into us. It looked like death was on our side.

In any situation like this, the most likely state you'd be in your memoir or slice of life would be: I froze. And frozen I was. During my frozen moment, Kisha shrieked, " Oh my god Dad slow down! AHHH!" I braced myself for a big craaash sound. But all I heard was silence.

By the time I opened my eyes the freaking motor bike guy was already accelerating toward the darkness and our car was left under the moonlit sky to reverse to the other lane all over again. After that terrifying moment of fatality, we drove off with Dad cursing the guy, Kisha imagining if it would have crashed, her face would need surgery and she would be out for a semester in university (her face is her number one priority), and me wondering why I didn't say anything.

The Branded Backpacker: Day 6, Out With the Old

Hey folks! Zeet iz meh, ze very amazing...eh...ze very amazing person! haha, I should stop that. I have been listening to Jason Mraz for the past 3 days and I think I'm going crazy. I'm not getting sick of it yet and...and...yeah. Right now the song is 'Coyotes'(one of my favourites). Today I'm going with my aunts to some shopping mall. And they're all 'money conscious' and all of those sorts! I have no idea how to shop with them!

Anyway I'm going to step out with my headband from forever 21, my sailor-like blouse from COTTON ON, and my ZARA leggings(haha again! I love it too much) and my denim converse high cuts.

Bye!

The Branded Backpacker: Day 5, Look At What I Did Today!

Oh no! I'm a day late? For what you ask? For missing a day blogging for the New Year! Woops! Well it's only a day, I mean imagine if I said 'Happy 2010!' during August, people would think I've gone mad! So, Happy 2010! :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D

ANYWAY, guess where I went today! My friend's, Charlene, house! I was jumping in the car seat while Kisha(yes, she drives now. How old is she again?) 'demanded' me to eat a, quoute, " Freaking Damn Good' crispy Char Siew Bao as she drove around Bishan in search of my friend's 'hidden' house. Char Siew Bao(pronounced as 'chah SII-you ba-ow) is a ball of bread, that in this case is deep-fried(or was it toasted?) that has minced honey glazed pork in the middle!Mmmmmmmm...it really was good! Except for the part where the crumbly pieces, or crumbs, kept on flying out from my nibbles and landed on my plaid pants from forever 21. Well, it wasn't my fault those crumbs were afraid of me! But in the end I just had to clean up my little mess. Sigh.

When we arrived, my sister took a polaroid(you know that kind of camera that takes a photo of you and develops it on the spot?) picture of us and drove off to meet her friend. Nothing much changed in Charlene's house. It's just that she grew taller...than me! But only time will tell if I grow tall or not so, whatever.

Then we went to the excersise-playground, in which Charlene made me sweat it all out, laughed our socks off(well, my socks really), invented a game(we are still kids, and we still have imagination....Rainbows and unicorns excluded), watched the 16th episode of 'The Mentalist' on her computer which was cut short when SOMEBODY called.

So I packed my MANGO scavenger bag (could it be also called a satchel?Hmmm...Mrs. Brown...?), straightened my white Mossimo top, slipped my feet into my denim high-cut Converse shoes, hugged Charlene goodbye(who knows when I'd see her again?), and hopped into Kisha's (and Dad's actually) car and went back to my temporary home, or my aunt's house.
Well, I'm all poofed out, so I'm gonna have some really goooooooooood rest. It's 1:o7 am here in Singapore! So good morning and night!
Byeeeee!

The Branded Backpacker: Day 4, Movie Mania

It's me-ee! You've missed some days, so let me fill you up with the ones that are most memorable.
I watched Avatar on Wednesday, and boy, it was spectacular! The graphics of the blue-people, or Nav'i are so life-like! The scenes that they showed was mind-blowing. It had, in my point of view, on-the-edge-of-seat action! Really, how can you not take your eyes off the screen? And they have it in 3-D, that would be even better since you would feel like you are right where the 'futuristic' helicopters were!

Then the next night, which was New Years Eve, we, as in Pop, Kish, and me, watched...wait for it... Sherlock Holmes! The whole cast are seriously good acting! But there are some parts from the trailer I watched that wasn't shown in the movie...it must've been for a different country. But I loved it when the film silences the noises and focuses on the thoughts of Sherlock(who is played by the guy from 'Ironman') in where, usually when he was about to attack or tackle a guy, he would plan out his moves and tells us what would happen if he does them. And I almost choked on my own tongue when Watson(Jude Law, isn't it?), Sherlock's ally and a doctor, says his punchline," Don't worry, relax, I'm a doctor," when someone he threw down struggles to get out of his grip.
Oh, and don't get me started on Irene Adler(acted by...er, Rachel McAdams, am I right?). She is gorgeous! It's either the make-up or the fact that Rachel McAdams totally fits the role of that charming and cunning woman that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made up!

I think this blog is turning into a movie review....*blushed face*I should stop blabbering on about how these two movies are ' DAMN GOOD!' Ok. Stop. It's just that these movies are the best so far--ok. I have stopped. So that's all that you missed, gonna blog soon!
Buh-bye!
*******PLEASE MIND THE LACK OF BRAND NAMES LISTED. THE BLOGGER FORGOT WHAT SHE WAS WEARING*******