Carry on.

Fact of the day: Jamie Redknapp is gorgeous.
Okay, okay.

REAL fact of the day: I was taught how to write while my brother was taught how to count when we were young.

This fact was revealed by the mother yesterday while we were...errm...watching CSI.

When my brother was young, he was taught Maths.
When I was young, I was taught how to write.

Despite protests from the mother, the father decided that I was to be taught the art of writing my own name and other minor things, instead of Maths.

Now this is why my Maths skills is not as good as my brother's.
And this is also why my writing skills are FANTABULOUS (which means it's ridiculous).

Seriously, I think this is why I like writing stuff. I'm not saying my brother can't write, he can. But the thing is...he got a C3 for his 1119 paper while I got A1, so there's something to it-lah right?

Don't get me wrong, I like Maths. But his Maths skills are beyond fantabulous. Actuarial science deals with lots of numbers apparently. I don't like dealing with lots of numbers, which is why I pushed accountancy as far away from me as possible.

But truth of the matter is I hate my writing skills. It's ridiculous. People say nice things about it, but I feel crappy after writing a long essay which sounded beyond stupid, and after getting an A for it, I feel like my teacher is either blind or bored and she just decided to slap an A on my paper. That A leaves others expecting better essays from me, I just simply don't understand how they consider that crappy essay as something Shakespeare wrote that deserves to be worshipped.

The stuff I wrote for my school essays is basically what I like to ramble on in here. It's just silly.

I always try to inject some football nonsense into my essay (depends on the essay, obviously). I am very meticulous with spelling and grammar. I told you I am crazy, so if you want to run away from me, I suggest now would be a good time.

And people would still love it. What the hell is wrong with you people???

Someone has asked me to come up with fictional stories of someone we like, but I don't have the heart to. I am afraid I will suck at it and people won't like it.

I just end up hating whatever I write, because it's either I think I could have done so much better OR it's the most stupid thing I have ever written in my entire life.

Ever since I wrote those things about those people, I am so afraid to write anything. This person who was extremely angry (angry doesn't even cut it, it was worse) by what I wrote told my brother that: "I know she can write well, I wish she could use it for something good".

That statement made me skeptical of any writing abilities I had.

And that is why I have no intention to try to be creative and write stories. I don't want to be shot down like that again.

But this someone who is interested in reading my fictional stories (and other people who apparently think the things I write are hilarious) said that they have faith and confidence in what I write, and the things I write will not suck.

Nice try, people.


Maybe I am just being too hard on myself. Maybe I should listen to lots of Take That's Shine to clear my head (I can't help it, every time I look at Mark Owen, he reminds me of Tomas Rosicky...and they both are gorgeous!).

Maybe I just might. But if I do write, it will be saved as a draft, not published.

We'll see about that.


Currently listening to:
Yellow - Coldplay.

For you I bleed myself dry...

Autumn.

Going back there was just upsetting. I know I had nothing to be upset about, but it just made me so upset that when she asked me "How are you?", I answered in a way that resembled a cat choking on a fishbone. Only worse. I sounded as if I was crying and guilty.

I had no reason to feel like that, but after what happened two weeks ago, all I could do was wonder.

"What if she looks at me as this nasty cow who goes around bad-mouthing people?"

The thing is, she was not involved in the issue at all, but someone else dragged her and her family in it that made it seem like I insulted her and the family.

But I did nothing of that sort. I never mentioned anything about them in the old blog.

She seemed fine with me. She didn't sound as though she wanted to hurt me, but yet inside I felt she wanted to (that's what I felt anyway).

As I left, I couldn't understand why the guilt was there.

It was just so overwhelming, I had to cry.

But, this little reminder from two people made me feel better.
"You'll get used to this eventually. No point in feeling guilt when you've done nothing wrong. If speaking your mind is a crime, we'd all be guilty on more than one occassion. Smile for the world, not give them tears"

=)

God knows where I'd be without them.

*****

Now that I feel no tinge of sadness, I am grumpy.

*No one touches my things WITHOUT asking me and messing up my room.
*Listen to me when I tell you something if you want to avoid being shouted by other people, instead of shouting at me.
*Wash my clothes when it is supposed to be washed (this is for me, really).

Excuse me, I forgot to take my happy pills this morning.

*****

To show that I'm not grumpy, I'm posting pictures up.


*screams with excitement*

Three hotties. In ONE pic.

Oi, I can see all of you drooling on the keyboard. Yuck. Stop it, I say!!!


And apparently, I have come to terms that I know more Liverpool fans here.

*shakes head*

This is going to be bad.


PRISON BREAK ON NOW! See you in a bit.