HELLO.
"Contrariwise," continued Tweedledee, "if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." Through the Looking-Glass; Lewis Carroll
Hello. | Goodbye. |
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HELLO.
"Contrariwise," continued Tweedledee, "if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." Through the Looking-Glass; Lewis Carroll |
Wednesday, January 10, 2007, 11:16 PM
I found the digicam I brought to Victoria Theatre for let's dance. I remembered at first that last time I brought it to the media camp, and the guys used some cable to connect the thing, then I thought I couldn't open it so I was about to chuck it into Father's study when somehow the battery compartment popped open and I found a MEMORY CARD. So I went and uploaded all the photos. Wheee. Ok, Ok, my first day of school was ah-fabo (sth angiie and I coined up:). No, that's an exaggeration. Splendiforous. No, no. That won't do.. Supercalifragi-whatever. *shoots ominous glance at sister* I, unlike you, Ying, do not have all the time in the f***ing world to watch Mary Poppins. Not with Sec 3 workload, I don't. Put it to the truth. Things are not what they seem.. It's weird to think that you're the only one feeling this way, then go and find out that you're not. It's just strange enough. It's as if you're peeking at the world through a mask, thinking that you're the only one hiding, then discovering that everyone else is hiding too. Workload. History has been sticking to me like some die-hard covalent bond. I stuck to it during the holidays and now Mdm Ker has covalent-bonded it to me. I still have like... what.. 7 questions to go? And also. WHAT IS THE F*** WITH YOU LAH? What lah, you so exclusive? IT'S NOT FUNNY, with a way of going round, mocking other people because what? They. Piss. You. Off. Oi. Wait. I. Am. Doing. That. Too. Siao ah. Kan shi jie yao kan kai yi dian, ok? Yeah, now that you've found out, you're probably gonna suan me like hell lah. Zuo xia lai deng si. *One second, two seconds, three seconds tick by* I still feel like screaming at people. And then I remember I still have History to do. Heh. Everything's so strange now. Like in an alternate universe or something (am I philosophical or what?) It's as if the past year, the past two years of my life have faded away or sth.. (even though the ghosts will still remain) Story I wrote - spur of the moment. Heh. Comments welcome:) Any Ordinary Sopho She walked down the corridor and she could feel eyes staring at her. She looks around and she sees people passing her. Up. Down. Heading for the lecture theatres and the other classes. The subject bell would ring anytime soon and she thought that she had better hurry. Everywhere she went now, she could feel people staring at her. She wasn't ugly- she knew it. She'd looked in the mirror enough to realize. But then, in the normalities of high school life, what you would see yourself as would usually not be seen the same way as the others would see you. Be yourself. That's what she had always heard. And that was the biggest contradiction- to go against that. She pushed open the door of the ladies' room. And bam. Straight in front of the mirror, she saw her. Amelia had been in her class the previous year. She had apparently been a top student in the second stream and had been offered the choice to take a second-core class in the first stream. Nobody sane would have given up that choice. That had included her. But Amelia had seemed to contradict herself. She threw the chance away. She'd slacked during classes. She'd never cared. She hadn't seemed to bother about whether or not she failed the tests or screwed up the assignments. Sure, half the guys in that class had been smitten. If anyone would have looked at it, it'd have been clear she couldn't give a damn.And in the end, when the consortium had been promoted, Amelia hadn't shown up for the first-stream class she had been allowed to take. She just went on taking second-stream classes. The majority of the juniors said she'd dropped out. No one was surprised. Even the first-stream juniors had thought that the courses were tough. But ever since Amelia had begun taking the first-stream subject the previous year, Dani had thought that she'd been no ordinary sopho. "I've heard many kids in your class don't like her," Asha had told Dani over lunch one day, as they'd seen Amelia walk across the cafe to her posse. Dani had looked over, peered at the petite slenderframe dressed in a white-and-navy cheerleader jacket and black miniskirt, and frowned, before returning to concentrate on her Bio prep. On the contrary. Dani pondered for a while, tip of her 2B mechanical pencil hovering over the nuclei structure of the amoeba cell sketched on her exam pad, then decided to keep her mouth shut and not tell Asha about the number of guys in her class who had been pondering (and who made it very obvious) their chances on securing a date with the vice-prez of the school cheerleading varsity. Asha had been in the same class as Amelia, but unlike her classmate, she'd been working hard to get promoted to the first stream the following year. Everyone had been pushing - the first-stream sophos for promotion to first-stream junior year, and the second-and-third- stream sophos for promotion and a raise to a higher stream. No one wanted to lose out. Amelia came to class, in flamboyantly-coloured tank tops and low-cut jeans which had seemed to fit nicely, quite differently from the more conservative styles of the first-stream sophos. Seeing Amelia strut into class dressed immaculately to the last detail was tempting for any other impeccably-clad girl to rush to the ladies and critique herself in the mirror. Dani had never known much about Amelia, save her cheerleading thing and her low cut tops. Whenever she'd seen the other girl enter her classroom for classes, she'd caught the familiar rustle of uneasiness spreading across the room. Dani had always been comfortable with her preferred ensemble of t-shirts and jeans. Safe, secure, and it kept her from worrying about sticking out in the hallways when a new style was tried. True, many had not exactly seen her reasons from her point-of-view, but that had been the way she was, and that was how she'd wanted to be. It had stayed like that, peaceful enough, for one year. Then Amelia had arrived. At first, Dani had just watched as her classmates fiddled with their hair or adjusted their blouses continously for no rhyme or reason. Then it started. "Danielle? Would you stop fiddling with your hair please? It's quite a distraction, and you're blocking the entire row with your hand." Dani had pulled her hand out of her ponytail. She glared down at her desk, her face burning. Then she had glanced across the room. Amelia was winding her tresses around her fingers, the way she'd been doing. Dani stared back at the board and tried to focus on the lecture on zygotes to embryos. She had gone shopping at Giordano two months later. 3 for $10 shirts were nice. 3 colours, three styles and $10. Sweet. Instead, her eye had fallen on an icing-style tee clad on a mannequin in the shop window. Light lavender with a beautiful blue and pink design. $20. Twice of what she would spend. She shook her head and continued browsing through the V-Necks again. Fifteen minutes later, she had strode out of the store, clutching the paper bag. She felt dizzy and confused. She sat down on a bench by the side of the escalator. She sat down and pulled the bag open. She unfolded the pink and blue icing tee. It looked so immaculate.. so ... so... She didn't know why she had bought that shirt. It would be the most expensive one she owned. She thought back. In a dream, she had made her way up to the sales girl and pointed to the tee. The girl had nodded and made her way to the back of the storeroom. She had returned with the tee. Dani had tried it on. It fitted the contours of her body perfectly, in a way her other shirts had never had. Something had been nagging at the back of her head, but she didn't know what it was and had bought the shirt anyway. Dani shrugged her shoulders and tucked the shirt back into her bag. She glanced back at the mannequin. Then it hit her. Amelia. A memory of her wearing a shirt of the same design had flashed through her head. She wasn't one to copy trends, she wasn't one to follow the current. She shook her head. Her hands clutched the bag; her nails dug through the paper. Shuddering, she had stuffed the bag into her satchel and gone home. She placed the shirt at the back of her wardrobe. She never wanted to look at it again.. Amelia seemed to have some sort of prowess. Invisible, like the way she strode into the class as if all life was hers by right, and sent the fingers of the other girls itching to their hairdos. Invisible, like the way she'd made half the first-stream sopho guys smitten down, simply by leaning her chin over one hand and staring blankly at the whiteboard, gazing occasionally out of the window, fiddling with her hair. Invisible, like the way she had unknowingly forced a normal, average, ordinary first-stream sopho girl who had never cared, to wander away from all she had been familiar with. You did this to me. Why? Do you know what you have done? The following lesson, Amelia had been fiddling with her hair and the lecturer had told her to stop. Dani noticed that all the other girl's hands had flown to their hair, then zapped back to their desks and clutched the edges tight. Maybe it's good you're gone. It hadn't been the same after school started and junior year had begun. Girls still fiddled with their hair and clothes for no rhyme or reason. Amelia had come, Amelia had changed, Amelia had gone. The guys still talked about the number of ex-boyfriends she had dated. Dani stood by the wall partitioning the door from the mirrors and sinks. Amelia was brushing her hair, fiddling with it like she had always been doing in class. Her fingers wound around the layered curls, the teeth of her brush following closely. Dani gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. The sound of tap water running, followed by the sound of footsteps. Dani stood up straight and pretended to walk in, just as Amelia strode past her. The door slammed, the wind impact ruffling the back of her hair. Dani walked towards the mirrors. She stood at the one in the middle- the one Amelia had been standing at. She stared at her reflection for a while. How many girls have been standing here, Amelia? How many, because of you? A glimmer of white made her glance down towards the sink. A hairbrush. Dani lifted the white, new-looking hairbrush in her fingers. A strand of brown hair was snarled between the teeth. Amelia wouldn't be far. She had just left. Dani gripped the hairbrush firmly and turned to leave. Shards of glass flew across the sink, floor, all over the place. The mirror was an ugly mess. Dani felt her hand shuddering from the impact- the impact of flinging the brush against the mirror. She felt a sharp pain at her elbow. She lifted it and peered at it. Crimson blood dripped into the sink, covering the metallic-coated shards. Dani reached over and switched on the tap. Water flowed over the mess. A red liquid filled the sink, stoppered by the glass bits over the drain. Dani stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her left eye was missing, her mouth was slashed, her hairline was distorted. Blood flowed from her elbow to her hand, pooling in her cupped palm. This was what she had ended up as. She gripped the brush and left the toilet. She plunged down the corridor, narrowly avoiding collisions with rushing students and piles of tottered books. She turned the aisle- she spotted Amelia, waiting outside Lecture Hall 2. What will you do in there, my dear girl? She ran towards the girl. Amelia looked up at her. A fringe of chestnut tresses shaded one eye. The other stared back at her cooly, with something the first-stream girls called "attitude". "You left something in the toilet." She reached up to the other girl's head of thick, brown hair, immaculately rebonded, ending in slight curly ringlets at the ends. She reached up with the brush and raked it's teeth through those smooth locks. Her hand brushed against the Amelia's hair, following the pursuit of the brush. It left a streak of crimson against the shimmery chestnut. Oh well. Heck. Nvm. |