temporal phase shift

I haven't been home the since sunday night with all that waking up at 6am for work after a night of crappy sleep on a foreign bed without the pretty much essential air conditioning.

This short break from work will come to an end in a matter of minutes as I once again step out of my home to get back to that much dreaded work place. I vaguely remember having something to write about in the last few days but right now, I just can't put a finger on it. It's residing somewhere deep within my conscious mind hiding from plain view. Of the 5 hours at home, I spent a bulk of it sleeping and although I'm not a sleep person, as in I don't crave it for no reason like some people I know, it's some pretty damn good sleep compared to what I've been having the past few days.

Harry Potter's Wang

If you're on my msn contact list, you've probably already seen this because I made you but that never stopped me before.

Purely in the interests of science, I have replaced the word "wand" with "wang" in the first Harry Potter Book
Let's see the results...

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.
"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wang in half an' everything

A magic wang... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

"Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wang. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wang for charm work."
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wang. Eleven inches. "

Harry took the wang. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wang above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wang, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wang had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

He bent down and pulled his wang out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wang, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wang at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them.

Ok
I have found, definitive proof
that J.K Rowling is a dirty DIRTY woman, making a fool of us all
"Yes," Harry said, gripping his wang very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding.... Any second now, he might hear his mother again... but he shouldn't think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn't want to... or did he?
O_______O
Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wang

Then, with a sigh, he raised his wang and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.

'Get - off - me!' Harry gasped. For a few seconds they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncles sausage-like fingers with his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wang.

source.

Piracy 101

I'm quite sick of people asking me to download stuff for them because they either don't know where to look, can't find it, are too scared that downloading anything will get them listed by the RIAS or are simply too lazy to do it themselves. So I've decided to write this, everything you need to know about downloading anything. I've also decided to write this because I've been wanting to for a while now and I happen to be pretty free and awake at 1am on a saturday night.

Before I begin, I'm going to lay some ground rules.

1. I'm always right.
2. Do not question my instructions because of pt. 1.
3. Do not question the logic behind my instructions because of pt.
4. If anything screws up, it's you.
5. Don't use IE, use Firefox.
6. I'm always right.
7. Downloading copyrighted material is illegal and I'm not responsible for whatever shit happens to you if you fuck up.

Understand that I'm not a law student nor anything even remotely related to the topic. The basic idea is that piracy is illegal but everyone wants to do it because it kicks ass getting stuff all those paying suckers spent on for free. All is well as long as you don't get caught but shit happens and if you happen to be lucky, oh well. So don't. Don't get caught.

Let's start with legal downloads. Chances are the download is legal if:

1. If it's on a official website.
2. If it's a short audio clip less than 30 sec.
3. It's a song sung by some unknown, more often than not, loser.

You can download whatever, whereever, whenever. But if you're reading this, you probably don't want these legal downloads.

Now for the juicy bits, in the event that you don't know any of the words or terms I used, google it, don't ask.

The best place to fine safe downloads is from http sites. And there's no better tool to search for the stuff other than google. You can find virtually anything in google, if it's online, you can google it. Google works like all other search engines, at least what you see is the same, you input what you want to find and it churns out the results. Google works the same for everyone and the reason why some people can get everything from google and why some can't get anything is the keywords they use for the search and how they type it.

Group words that are supposed to be together with ""s and use a space as a seperator. For example, if you want to find a song titled "shitty song" sung by "the shitty people", type this in google:

"shitty song" "the shitty people" download

If that doesn't give you any good results, try

"shitty song" "the shitty people" song
"shitty song" "the shitty people" mp3

When that still doesn't show anything good, chances are what you are trying to find sucks to the core, that's when you remove the ""s and shoot blindly. Note that more often than not, the top few pages will be the official sites for the song, the artist or contains the lyrics. Your best bet are forums and those kick ass sites from china. Because china doesn't give a shit about piracy and they make the best game hacks.

You might not understand the words or characters shown, that's when you take note of your status bar, look for words that indicate a download; things like file extensions and javascript(download); etc. Or buttons, the china sites love buttons.

It can take up to more than half an hour just to find your desired file but when that happens, you're rewarded with a sense of satisfaction, almost always, really fast downloads and the sense of relief that the chances of you getting caught are about as slim as nothing.

With that said, I'll go on to what I call the solution to everything, Bittorrent. It's the best thing that happened since Atlantis got submerged. You can download virtually everything off bittorrent if you know where to look. Places like baka-updates, tokyotosho, torrentspy, torrentreactor, piratebay, etc. Just google for it. I'm going to kick the next person who asks me how bittorrent works.

Now I believe I've mentioned forums somewhere above. Forums with a fixed topic that are hosted on professional servers with tonnes of space. You can often find file sharing forums where you can request for files of a specific genre, this requires a certain level of commitment and you don't always get what you're looking for. But if you happen to have a pretty face or you got photos of some nice cute looking chicks, chances are those testosterone pumped forum junkies, techno nerds, will help you out and give you whatever you want. The only risk here is that you probably have to register with the forums in order to use the services. So there, don't be stupid and put anything real.

Only when you're left with no other options, do you turn to p2p software to find whatever you want. And when you do, sad to say, don't share any files. Most of the p2p software works such that your userid or whatever will only be displayed when you have any files to share. That is when someone searches for a file and you have it, your username appears in relation to the file. And that allows other users to see all the files you are sharing. Don't let that happen for obvious reasons. It's sad that the solution to staying safe on a p2p network is not contributing to the network but there are always people out there who either take the risk, doesn't give a shit or are too stupid to know.

FAQ.

Q. Where can I find ______.
A. Google.

Q. Is it legal?
A. probably not.

Q. Can you show me where?
A. No.

Q. Can you download _____ for me?
A. No.

Q. If I pay you?
A. I'll think about it.

Q. Am I wrong?
A. Yes.

Q. How can you be sure you're always right?
A. See points 1 and 2.

Q. You rock!
A. I know.

Disclaimer: This text is for entertainment purposes only. I am in no way responsible for how the information is put to practice. To believe me or not is your choice to make but keep in mind point 1.

too much free time

When I have too much free time, I either get bored, usually, or I do really senseless stuff. For today, I did the latter. Due to the fact that I can't get my hands on a decent recording of the Arban's Carnival of Venice performed by a euphonium, because all the euphonium played Carnival of Venice I have is the Herbert Clarke arrangement. So I fired up Audacity and edited the trumpet version of it I got. It's not perfect, far from it in fact, I didn't really bother because I only wanted to have some fun. With that in mind, I did a shabby job with the editing, you can hear distinctly the parts where I edited, obviously because it doesn't sound like a trumpet, but also because of the distinct shift in pitch. It actually sounds like a REAL euphonium and because of that I'm glad and I bring myself to applaud Audacity as industry standard piece of software comparable to Cool Edit, not to forget that it is freeware.

Being the usual pain in the ass that imposes my thoughts and ideals on others, I'm going to FORCE you to listen to my bad remix of the wonderful piece arranged by Arbans.

[Edit]: Force period over, listen to it here.

You'll need flash player to hear and see this. If you haven't already got it, GET IT because if you don't you are and will be a loser. Take the first step in loser prevention now, get flash player damn it!

The Carnival of Venice

The damn piece just keeps ringing in my head, on and on like a bad code stuck in an infinite loop. All this while I had the Herbert Clarke version of it, which IMHO is much easier than the one that's ringing in my head now. And then yesterday, I found out that the version I liked best is actually the Arban's version. I had Arbans since I was, what, 15? I was never quite a fan of it because it's so damn thick and everything just struck me as a turn off from page 1.

I saw the score of it in the trumpet Arbans Junichi was using and started playing it. I hate treble clef. I hate Bb euphonium scores. They should jus write everything in concert pitch. I played it anyway and decided that it's nice and since the trombone & euphonium version of Arbans just arrived a few days ago, I got it from the library. It kicks ass!

The opening solo alone is much nicer than the Clarke version I have. The theme is just so nice and fun to play. Then the rest of the variations are just overwhelming. There are some variations that are similar to that in Clarke's version with a few varied notes here and there. The final variation is still as impressive with added challenge in the form of the octave skip at the accented notes that bring out the melody. When correctly executed, it will sound like 2 instruments playing together with one playing the cheap simple melody while the other is running. With that in mind, I've decided to change the score a little, to hell with the octave skips. It sounds nice on a trumpet but on a euphonium, the octave down just makes it sound weird, even when done correctly. I just don't like the idea of really staccato low notes below the stave, I feel that it doesn't give credit to the quality mellow dark tone of the low euphonium notes. So I actually prefer the Clarke interpretation of the final variation. However I prefer the Arbans' notes. Putting the best of both worlds together, I'll attempt to play the Arbans version transposing the "melody" an octave up like that in Clarke's.

cool wreck

I was on Zhijun's car today and I saw this yellow really cool looking lamborghini flash by. It looked exactly like a scene from a game with all those cool cars racing around with with traffic that gets in your way very much like that in real life. The perfectly rendered machine on the virtual streats of Vegas right there on a Singaporean road. That's when I said something that made Zhijun go, you're sick. I want to see it crash. With my usual straight face whe I say morbid stuff like that.

It's not the first time I saw a car like that in real life, I've in fact seen quite a number of them around, some officers are fucking rich, especially those still single and live off the SAF when it comes to food and lodging, overpaid and underworked, annoying. They have enough cash to spare to spend on a car that they won't take above gear 1 (I don't drive but I was told so, if it's wrong, it's not me) on an average Singaporean road. I've seen my share of lamborghinis and ferraris around camp, they're just not moving when I saw them. I assumed that I thought of the crashing scenerio because of the many sadistic games I played but there's a line to draw to everything. If I saw a stationary car and gets the thought of ripping it's door open and driving it away like in the GTA series, I'd be having serious legal issues. So I very much left those wonder cars in camp alone, just another car I tell myself. I can probably attribute my lack of interest to the fact that I'm usually either on my way home or on a bus sleeping when I see the cars in camp, in short, I don't care.

The thought of wanting to see it crash filled me with adrenaline, I was actually disappointed that it didn't since it would've been one hell of a cool wreck! I can almost imagine it scrapping against the center divider of the road, sparks everywhere, as it got nudged and sandwiched by a rival car. And shortly after that, it'll start shaking, the tyres lose traction and the bonnet flies off in no time. It all happens really fast and the next thing I know, the engine catches fire and I watch in awe as the flaming lamborghini ricochet off the center divider and fly a distance away, all this time, the words "Wall Takedown" keeps flashing. And as I watch the cool flaming wreck sail overhead, can't believe my eyes, I see it move a little as it carefully lands with a smash right in front of another rival car. And the scene just replays over and over with the words "Aftertouch Takedown" flashing in a corner. That's when I get pissed off and hit the "start" button for the game to move on.

What's wrong with wanting to see whether the cool cars really do crash like they do on screen? No harm in putting game physics to the test as far as I'm concern. Now who wants to play liero?

killer dolphins

The seemingly normal scene before me looks pretty damn weird to me. There I was at some unknown swimming pool with just a few people, all of them I do not know. The fact that I'm at such a pool is weird in itself. At first I thought I was just any other regular pool until I saw people skimming across the surface of the water on their feet, or so I thought. On closer observation, I realised that they are riding dolphins! No shit! I want some dolphin fun too! So I got out of the shitty ass normal average pool and went to the pool with the kick ass dolphins. That pool was deep. No surprise there considering that there are dolphins in it damn it! Real living dolphins that play with humans!

The moment I hit the water, I see a dolphine rushing towards me as it executes a leap out of the water into the other pool, no shit! That's when I remember that documentary I watched on Discovery Channel about dolphins, I remembered specifically and how strong their tails are. That's when I decided that I'm not getting anywhere those creatures whose swipe from their tail can easily smash me against the very hard pool wall.

The next thing I know, I'm at one end of the pool and people around me are getting out rapidly. I noticed the water gradually turning a shade of crimson. That's when I looked back at the other end and see a bunch of "lifeguards", I assume that's what they are, tending to this limp body, well, half of it. I saw the other half of it lying somewhere in the other pool being recovered by yet another group of "lifeguards". It dawned on me that one of the dolphins probably got a little too excited and smacked the loser around a tat too much with its tail. He was probably thrown with great force towards the pool's edge where the top half of his body was ripped off by inertia, landing in the adjecent pool.

It's a dream of course. Yes I have dreams like that. I remember too clearly the many times I wake up thinking to myself, what the fuck was that? Call me morbid or sick, I don't think it matters. Being perfect isn't all good; I have my share of less than perfect dreams.

Reporting at unearthly hours for the bulk of the week, fuck. Staying in sucks, especially without air-con. Not to forget a certain pain in the ass that will hopefully keep his distance.

faded qwerty

My dad had a hard time typing on my keyboard just minutes ago, cursing and swearing, maybe not, all the while as he type with 1 finger on each hand much like those stereotypical techno-nut always seen on TV.

I won't blame him since quite a number of keys on my keyboard are faded beyond recognition. There's so much visible wear and tear on my keyboard it looks as if it's been used for a much longer time compared to the other bits of my PC bought at the same time a few years back. It also highlighted to me the amazing design of the qwerty keyboard. If you haven't already noticed, QWERTY is the first 6 characters from the left on the top row of the regular keyboard almost everyone uses. I'm sure you remember looking for the alphabates when you first started using a PC wondering why the fuck they put the A such a distance from the B. It so happens that the most frequently used characters are grouped and arranged on the qwerty keyboard to make it easier to use. I'm not sure if this in fact makes it easier to use but the part about grouping the most used alphabates together sure as hell is true since the most faded keys are all located at roughly the same place. The WSAD region, gamers will know the significance of this.

Finally saw Janice after so long. Idiot. She's been so busy I haven't been to her place since forever! And she's always tired for no reason apparently. LIAR! I'll tell you why, too much SEX!!! And spidey walks weird. And zhihui is annoying as ever. I didn't see her for a week but she's still annoying. Plus she's now Kenneth's girlfriend, albeit a pseudo one.

the work of God

For those do not know of, or remember, my entry about snails a long time ago, the basic idea is that snails should not exist for various reasons.

So you can probably guess the look on my face when I was feeding the iguana and cleaning it's cage when I turn around only to find this grotesque piece of slimy muscle smack right there on my balcony floor. I immediately called for my mum because it's not a garden snail but a water snail. And it's fucking gigantic, making it doubly gross!! She told me that she saw another one of those, smaller, a while ago and removed it. That piece of information is like a smack in the face as I realised that I might have a serious case of snail outbreak in my fish tank! I was told to throw it away while my mum went on with watching TV.

Knowing me, being cooked would've been a better experience for the snail. With the uncanny ability to prolong suffering in questionable invertebrate creatures, it didn't take long for me to associate a snail's suffering to salt. Imagine yourself to be trapped by an invisible barrier, one that spells certain death! You're trapped with no where to run, all you can do is hide in your shit of a shell. Either way you die!

So I sprinkled a ring of salt, a substance so common yet lethal to that which shouldnot exist, around it.

Halo-Legion Custom 1

Cliche name. I got HQBO duty and I did this at night while watching TV. It's more like I inked an old sketch I have lying around.

boring ass shit.

I've been subjected to the worst kind of torture these past 2 days. A lecture! I must say, it's boring as shit. The only good thing I can think of that spawned off it is my doodling.

The inks. Click for fullsize.


After about 30 minutes of speed brushing. Click for fullsize.

for janice

I'm awake at 2am, much like a member of our grp that's been missing out a lot. Fear not, you're not forgotten, you've been missed. I want to play pictionary with the dream team again, not to forget the many nights we stayed over and all that chatting with your friends as you. Then there's the Ben and Jerry's and of course the mahjiong and the DVDs.

Filming is at a all time low without you. Ok it's not only because you're not there, xian is a real pain in the ass when it comes to filming. We're taking her off the big screen.

You neh family misses you so you've got to make time for us when you're free in a few weeks ok.

of the lululu and the bahhhh and disgusting call police

It's been a week since I got zhihui into our group, now known as the club due to a mistake made by zhihui, she said "wad does the club do?". Befor I can make things clear that it's in fact a group and not a club, things got out of hand because I had to book in on the night of NDP for the blasted GOH the next day. Understand that I won't bother explaining what my abbreviations mean since more often than not, it doesn't matter whether you know what it means, you get the idea anyway. So while I was dragging my ass to camp, stuck on a aromatic bus filled with people not of my race, the members of said group decided to elect a prez, me. It really doesn't matter and nobody really cares.

So back to having zhihui in the group. As expected, she NEVER STOPS! If duracel needs a new weird bunny, she's definitely on the A-list. Other than that, we've been pretty much getting the better side of the deal. She's been subjected to test after test and is doing well so far, still alive. We blanketed her on 2 instances, the first of which lasted longer and involved citrus fruits being forcefully fed to her.

She also claimed the rights for various words not found anywhere, with pride. Words like lululu and bahhhh. Though we argued that bahhhh belongs to xian, she claimed it anyway, chucking aside bleaugh or something like that to xian. Xian came up with something new by the way, blrooogh, which, according to her, is the sound made when she lau sai, too much information there.

Our group appears to communicate well with members of the horde judging from the lingo of our female, though questionable, members. We are also affiliated with the guardians of our neighbourhood, the police since we call them on any instances of disgusting occurrences.

When will the next troll scroll appear. We can only pray.

For entertainment... For entertainment... For entertainment...

TiVO

I seriously think we shuld have TiVO here. You hear me SCV? GIVE ME
TiVO!!!!

Scroll Keeper

Remember the many times in life where you play a game or something and there'll be this one enemy, that massive pain in the ass that refuse to die no matter how many times you inflict combo after combo on it, the one mage that has an unlimited supply of mana that enables him to cast spell after spell and summon creature after creature, or simply that one elf with such high agility that you can't ever harm it and even when you do chance upon a hit, the damage would be so insignificant that a simple level 1 heal will be enough for it to recover.

After all the fantasy talk which serves no real purpose, I'll get to the point finally, the troll scrolls are back. This time it's not just bits and bytes of data small, insignificant and easily accessible. This time it's back and it packs with it more punch and grease than ever before. As of when this article was written, I have not seen the scroll physically, it is still in the care of one of my very holy minions. It is still largely intact though a huge protion of it was exorcised, thrown away, by my holy minion's even more holy mother. It's always good to bask in the glory of the holy one but at times like this, I'd much rather the entire scroll be preserved. Valuable relics should never be tarnished, however gross the original scrolls are.

I'm now the official Scroll Keeper, elected by others without me being present and informed only when the decision is made, not that I'm complaining. I'm the only one with one foot in hell in the eyes of my type 2 minion rendering me the only one that will not suffer from the poison of the scrolls. I know that I'll have to get the scroll, what remains of it, from my type 2 minion as soon as humanly possible for every moment it remains in the house of the holy one, is a moment of agony for my type 2 minion, whom I'll address as NaCl from here on, and a danger of it being completely destroyed.

I know how much it takes out of NaCl to narrate to me the contents of the scroll through the very secure channel errected by Starhub and it pains me as I speak these words, that I put NaCl in such a grave position. Even without seeing the scroll, I can feel the raw oily energy radiating off it, piercing into my very being through NaCl and through the Nokia device used as a medium of communication. I feel NaCl contort and writhe in the raw grease of the scroll as she cast the codec on the troll cypher changing it to the words of man. Thereafter I feel her convolute into what I can only perceive as convulsions. I can hardly imagine the pain she feels and I pains me that I have to put my precious minion to such torture. For entertainment! I told myself as I chant the sacred 2 word incantation that is the very driving force behind me, the seat of my powers.

For entertainment... For entertainment...

After a painstaking 5 minutes of narration by NaCl along with some coaxing on my part to get her to say that which sends her into convulsions, I finally caught a glimsp of the much talked about, highly debated and very much sought after troll scroll which will soon be in my care. I must admit, I want it now more than ever.

For entertainment... For entertainment... For entertainment...

I'm so full of shit.

Blogrolling

I've been wanting to do this for a while now. Due to the nature of how I surf the web, I come across a large array of various sites I find interesting and cool at times. There are also instances where I want to get back to a particular site but can never remember the url and stuff, fucking annoying at times if you ask me. So here it is, my solution. Blogrolling.

Also, I've removed Link2Blog that was previously in the sidebar simply because it does nothing but make this place look like shit. Experience tells me, my experience, that no one will give a shit about the links there, so if a even patient person like me who bothers writing such long ass crap all the time can't give 2 hoots about the links being advertised there, no one will really give a shit at all. I therefore conclude it to be useless.

MASITNA

I got bored and so I do what most people usually don't when they are bored. I made a HATE site.



Since the troll scrolls have stopped, thanks to none other than yours truely, I'm moving onto green pastures. The thing about the world is you can never run out of people that annoy you. Some of them not so much but some, like the subject of Masitna, just gets to you in every damn way possible, so much so that looking at him alone is enought to get my blood boiling. I took a few hours creating the graphics for the layout and everthing, the buddy icons, the link exchange banners, everything! My co-founder put in the tagboard and got most of the members in. I have quite a number of people on my MSN contact list sprouting the pink emo Masitna logo now. Nothing much's been added yet but over the next few months, until me and keith ORD, there will be frequent updates, I hope, on the various reasons that justify our hate for this fucking ASSHOLE called SAM.

That alone is not enough to curb my boredom. So I did this.

People, please use firefox for the love of God. IE sucks and it really annoys me when it shows pages and PNG files wrong.

same sentiments

Negoki :: wtfwyc.blogspot.com :: walking the tight-rope on the line between heaven and hell :: says:
in view of the fact that our grp is shrinking due to ppling getting attached... we've decided to recruit new members... how say u? wanna join us? me ken xian jan grace. with jan n grace being the ones that sell us out cos they got laid..
luluu says:
wad does the club do?
Negoki :: wtfwyc.blogspot.com :: walking the tight-rope on the line between heaven and hell :: says:
nothing
Negoki :: wtfwyc.blogspot.com :: walking the tight-rope on the line between heaven and hell :: says:
we watch movies n make fun of one another.. add ppl to the top 20 list, have supper and ben n jerry's
Negoki :: wtfwyc.blogspot.com :: walking the tight-rope on the line between heaven and hell :: says:
then once in a while we wait for the troll scrolls
luluu says:
ok im in

i dont know wad kind of shit i got myself into. ha.

The other side of the story.

visiting annoyance

I hate it when relatives and my parents' friends come to visit. Don't get me wrong here, it's not that I don't like them or anything, the problem doesn't lie with the people that's visiting but at home. My parents get all anal about my room being messy and I have to clean it up and do a shit load of extra work on top of my slacking around.

If I'm not home to "pack", my mum will probably do it for me and that's not good because more often than not, I will not be able to find ANYTHING after she's done with my room. We live in a chaotic world and I kind of like the fact that my room reflects my world, a mess. A mess it may be but that doesn't change the fact that I have everything at my fingertips, more accurately within arms-length. If I need something, I know exactly where to look, it may take a little longer since I'll probably have some flipping to do but I can, more often than not, always find it. Being someone with an extremely erratic train of thought, I'm constantly seeking out different things so I have lots of crap on my table, I like it that way.

The worst is not the packing but my parents! I believe this is the second time I said that but that only proves that they are that annoying! I don't care if my relatives see my room messy so it's my parents that care. So what if a room is messy? Doesn't make it less of a room! And they have this constant need to scream and nag. They go non-stop like a tickertape parade. Then they get pissed off with everyone and we the kids get all the shit. We get yelled at for mundane stuff they pick at just so they can vent their frustration somewhere. Then they put up this fake smile when the visitors come, fake because I don't believe anyone can be pissed off one instant and cheerful the next.

My friends don't care, rather I don't care whether my room is messy or not when they come over. Because we're kids and we all know a really outrageously clean room is just impossible and obviously fake.

"butter" fingers

When it gets boring, too boring, things start getting interesting around the white house, a little too interesting for some but it's all fun for me.

Keith's queen ant is dead! And it dug itself a hole right smack in the middle of AntWorks, literally digging it's own grave. But no one, not even a guy that gives ant colonies to girls, who like snails, will leave a dead queen untouched and so I can only imagine how much it would take in order to get the dead bug out. He can either burn it to crisp, with the magnifying glass that came with AntWorks or he can use his trusty pair of chopsticks and burrow his way down to the royal chamber and then with said device, remove the queen from her royal slumber and tossing it in the trash, probably. So much for bad karma.

So much of creepy crawlies, not crawling anymore but still creepy. How would you react if you decided that you have to pee and when you're done with your deed, you proceed to the sink, normal people do that, only to find the tap coated with liquid soap. Oh what the hell, so it's a little alkaline, no harm done there, makes my hands cleaner too. It's a pity the particular brand of soap takes a tat longer to wash off. When you're done with that, you wet your hair and pose in front of the mirror thinking you look really hot , when you're in fact scaling the Top 20 at an alarming rate, and when you're finally satisfied, probably after 10 seconds, you head for the door. As you grab the door handle and yank it open, like most people do, you notice a slimy sensation and an overwhelming aroma of rose. Then you realise that the handle is a tat too pink and you have the same liquid soap on your hands! And so you keep the door open with one foot while you wash your yet again soapy hands, all this time looking like one of those really bad renditions of a dog lifting one leg up to pee on those trees by the road.

There you have it, when I'm not practicing my instrument, the euphonium and not otherwise, I'm coming up with various unique and unexpectedly childish ways to irritate normal people.

Eloisa to Abelard

In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a vestal's veins?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came,
And Eloisa yet must kiss the name.

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,
Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd.
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies:
O write it not, my hand — the name appears
Already written — wash it out, my tears!
In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays,
Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.

Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains
Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains:
Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!
Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep,
And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!
Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown,
I have not yet forgot myself to stone.
All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part,
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain,
Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
Led through a sad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There died the best of passions, love and fame.

Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join
Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;
And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;
Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief.
Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,
The virgin's wish without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,
When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love.
Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee.

How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said,
Curse on all laws but those which love has made!
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies,
Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
August her deed, and sacred be her fame;
Before true passion all those views remove,
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
The jealous God, when we profane his fires,
Those restless passions in revenge inspires;
And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all:
Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove;
No, make me mistress to the man I love;
If there be yet another name more free,
More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
Oh happy state! when souls each other draw,
When love is liberty, and nature, law:
All then is full, possessing, and possess'd,
No craving void left aching in the breast:
Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part,
And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be)
And once the lot of Abelard and me.

Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise!
A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand,
Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command.
Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain;
The crime was common, common be the pain.
I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd,
Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest.

Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,
The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale:
Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd,
And saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call,
And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
Those still at least are left thee to bestow.
Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
Still drink delicious poison from thy eye,
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd;
Give all thou canst — and let me dream the rest.
Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize,
With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
Full in my view set all the bright abode,
And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care,
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.
From the false world in early youth they fled,
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led.
You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd,
And Paradise was open'd in the wild.
No weeping orphan saw his father's stores
Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n:
But such plain roofs as piety could raise,
And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
In these lone walls (their days eternal bound)
These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,
Where awful arches make a noonday night,
And the dim windows shed a solemn light;
Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,
And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
But now no face divine contentment wears,
'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.
See how the force of others' pray'rs I try,
(O pious fraud of am'rous charity!)
But why should I on others' pray'rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move,
And all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills,
The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
The dying gales that pant upon the trees,
The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;
No more these scenes my meditation aid,
Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
A death-like silence, and a dread repose:
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.

Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain,
Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,
And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.

Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal task! a passion to resign,
For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
How often must it love, how often hate!
How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdain — do all things but forget.
But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myself — and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy:
When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Provoking Daemons all restraint remove,
And stir within me every source of love.
I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
I wake — no more I hear, no more I view,
The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
I call aloud; it hears not what I say;
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.
To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!
Alas, no more — methinks we wand'ring go
Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain
A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain;
Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose;
No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n,
And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n.

Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves;
Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves.
Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.

What scenes appear where'er I turn my view?
The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue,
Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,
Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.
I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee,
Thy image steals between my God and me,
Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear.
When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
And swelling organs lift the rising soul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,
While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,
Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye,
While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,
And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul:
Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!
Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart;
Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
Blot out each bright idea of the skies;
Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;
Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs;
Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;
Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God!

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;
Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!
Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!
Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!
And faith, our early immortality!
Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;
Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest!

See in her cell sad Eloisa spread,
Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.
In each low wind methinks a spirit calls,
And more than echoes talk along the walls.
Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,
From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.
"Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say)
"Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!
Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid:
But all is calm in this eternal sleep;
Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,
Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear:
For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."

I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs,
Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.
Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,
Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow:
Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,
And smooth my passage to the realms of day;
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!
Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
Present the cross before my lifted eye,
Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see!
It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
O Death all-eloquent! you only prove
What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love.

Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,
(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)
In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round,
From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine,
And saints embrace thee with a love like mine.

May one kind grave unite each hapless name,
And graft my love immortal on thy fame!
Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,
When this rebellious heart shall beat no more;
If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs,
O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
And drink the falling tears each other sheds;
Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd,
"Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!"

From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise,
And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,
Amid that scene if some relenting eye
Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie,
Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n,
One human tear shall drop and be forgiv'n.
And sure, if fate some future bard shall join
In sad similitude of griefs to mine,
Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,
And image charms he must behold no more;
Such if there be, who loves so long, so well;
Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;
He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.

By Alexander Pope