She takes a deep breath, and holds it... for so many things.

Sometimes, being too aware is tiring.
You want to do things correctly, so you watch yourself.
You want to understand the beauty of the moment, so you watch yourself.
You want to capture the essence of what you're doing, so you watch yourself.
You want to celebrate the joy of being, so you watch yourself.

So you tend to screw up, and blame yourself.
And the beauty eludes your grasp, and you blame yourself for not being more enlightened.
The essence slips past your fingers, as delicately as time evades the mind, and you struggle with the loss.
The celebration becomes too contrived and force, and you regret not being spontanious.

Oh darn.

She slowly lets it out... hoping not to lose too much.
I cannot say when I'm ready to do this. I feel "unripe"
I was introduced to this world 2 years ago.

"Theatre, meet Hannah, Hannah, meet theatre.

We shook hands and in our youth, made a wonderful pair.

But we grow and as friends often do, we had our differences.

But now... things are so strained.

I am faced with something I had never anticipated.

How could I not see that with art is built upon people, and that one day I would have to touch them, in all their humanity, in everything that I have strived to understand, to love and yet find horrifyingly fearful.

Atychiphobia - I'm a Failure
Atelophobia - I'm not perfect
Enissophobia - I'd be criticized
Athazagoraphobia - I won't be noticed

Anthropophobia - this one, belongs to me.

How is it that due to one mirco-organism (ok and his friends) the world stops turning?
People die,
The government trembles,
The people panic,
The doctors stumped,
Institutions stop functioning
Fear shrouds.

How do we say "in god we trust" when It's first claim, is a Man of God?




You have a mysterious kiss. Your partner never
knows what you're going to come up with next;
this creates great excitement and arousal never
knowing what to expect. And it's sure to end
in a kiss as great as your mystery.


What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

A leap into the trival. Pucker up! But watch them viruses.

I'm coming back!

AISS

The current school I'm teaching in now. I might've found my calling.

How do you hate kids who are unable to pay attention, who cannot write proper essays, who are the epitome of "tardiness", who laugh at your gestures, who walk around in your class, who defy you when you scold them...

yet who laugh at your jokes, who think you are smart, who think you are pretty, who tremble when you shout, who try to get others to shut-up, who greet you on the corridor, who participate in your class, who make you go hysterical with laughter.

well then... any takers?

I wish I could do more for them. beyond the daily routine of 5 hour marking sprees, the distribution of work, the collection of CA cards, the correction of grammar.

What do you say to a boy, who in the middle of your CME lesson on family says: "It's difficult being the yongest in the family because you always get dragged into situations you have nothing to do with... like when my elder brother stole my father's car... " ?

What do you say to children who deny themselves "cher! our engrish very bad one!"

What do you do with children who's hightest mark in their record card is 50?

How can you not love them?

When I see dreams of unversities and a rich future, They see the basket ball court outside of their dusty classroom
While I tire over marking their broken english, Some tire over their broken homes.
While I struggle to get the class' attention, Some struggle to get my attention... probaby the only attention they receive to assure them of their indespensibility.

Streets of London... anywhere.
Have you seen the old man in the closed down market
Kicking up the paper with his worn out shoes
In his eyes you see no pride
And held loosely by his side,
yesterday's paper telling yesterday's news

How can you tell me you're lonely
And say, for you, that the sun don't shine
Let me take you by the hand
And lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind

Have you seen the old gal who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags
She's no time for talkin, she just keeps right on walkin
Carryin her home in two big shopping bags
In the all night cafe at a quarter past eleven
Same old man sitting there on his own
Looking at the world over the rim of his teacup
Each tea lasts an hour and he goes home alone

Have you seen the old man outside the seaman's mission
Memory fading like the ribbons that he wears
In our winter city, the rain cries a little pity
For one more forgotten hero in a world that doesn't care

So how can you tell me, you're lonely
And say for you that the sun don't shine.
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of london
I'll show you something that will make you change your mind.

I can't tell if it's paranoia, or if it's just plain stupidness...

I feel so unloved sometimes, so insignificant, unimportant, despensible... small.

Perhaps I bring it upon myself, my elitism, hypocracy, or aloofness.

Or maybe it's my fear of trusting, that slowly decomposes into lethargy with the deadly stink of inertia.

I wonder why I bother knowing that it probably isn't worth anything if it leads to this...

I'm human too yah?
[resolutely hits the ignore user button]

17 - 23 March 2003

Mon 17/3
14:00-19:00 VJC
18:00-19:00 Meet dennis & mail everything

Tue 18/3
11:00-12:00 Get Syllabus from AB
14:00-15:00 GET PIN FROM NUS
19:00-23:00 CG dinner

Wed 19/3
12:00-13:00 Plan CG
17:15-17:45 dental
20:00-22:00 Choir

Thu 20/3

Breathe

Fri 21/3
15:30-16:30 Auditon for story theatre
19:00-23:00 CG

Sat 22/3
10:30-12:30 Missions meeting
14:00-16:00 Forum on Singaporean Identity
20:00-23:00 Witness Rehearsal

Sun 23/3
13:00-15:00 Dance Prac
19:00-20:00 Mummy's uncle

I grit my teeth and pull my hair
And hope to see the morning's glare
At 6 am on a brand new day
The monday's clone a week away
To know that I've survived this week
And to feel the joy of painless sleep.

This is my Blood

I know you won't believe me, but i am grateful.
I know I don't seem to show it but i do love you.
I know I don't seem to try, or give a damn or want to anyway...
... I'm just too tired.

Poured out...

All over my jeans...
Really, I try too much.

...for you

At least I'm not guilty of the sin of blah blah blah blah... I didn't really catch what he said anyway.



You said I took the name in vain,
I didn;t really know that name,
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard...
The holy or the broken Hallelujah.

I don't know how to write anymore.

I don't think I'm ever going to get up again

"I love you"
No you don't.

What part of our history is re-invented and under rug swept?

All of it I believe.

And I'm afraid to peel it open.

*crumble*

Quite badly.

Voodoo Girl

Her skin is white cloth,
and she's all sewn apart
and she has many colored pins
sticking our of heart.

She has a beautiful set
of hypno-disk eyes,
the ones that she uses
to hypnotize guys.

She has many different sombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from France.

But she knows she has s curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets
too close to her,

The pins stick further in.
~Tim Burton

I Dreamed a Dream

There was a time when men were kind
When their voices were soft
And their word inviting.
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting.
It all went wrong.

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life woth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed taht God would be forgiving.

Then i was young and unafraid
And dreams were made, and used,
And wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung
No wine untasted.

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
As they turn your dream to shame
He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days
With endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came.

And still i dream he'll come to me
That we will live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms that we cannot weather.

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed
The dream I dreamed



I dream a dream, of stages and song, of words and notes, of a life bigger then ours, and a space wilder then the mind.