Main lesson of the week:

Never spend money and resources on futile researches which everyone already knows the answers to.

Case in point:
1)Neuroscientist Russel Foster tells us that teenager's clocks can be delayed by two to four hours so it is "cruel to impose a cultural pattern on teenagers".In other words we start the day slow and forcing us to go to school that early causes a higher rate of depression,truancy and lower grades.
I think any teen could have said the same thing every morning when they complain about their panda eyes.Guess what? They are not neuroscientist.

2) Some researchers spent 3 years and a whole lot of money to try and invent something to draw teens away from the television.They failed miserably.Duh.(i heard this on the radio so I'm trying to find the article)

Therefore I conclude that some researchers are wholly unnecessary and more reserve funds should go into research for cures in cancer.

Hi.

I' writing here before i have to do some "real" writing.I love writing, just can't seem to get around to it. Ironically, i have two wrting pieces i would really love to complete before thursday.

I switched some things around,updated my profile.

I will just put up my writing piece here its rather long.

I’m supposed to distract myself for about 4 hours by either writing or doing nothing at all which isn’t really much of the choice.
But I love to write and that is why I have no idea what’s up with me.

Then I find out I am utterly incapable of writing
Just like that.

I know that we must always have the will to finish what we started but guess what? 5 startings, one middle and no ending later I still haven’t finished my any story.

How do I write about what I know when it seems like I don’t know anything at all.

I think the longest I can keep this up is half an hour

So I shall begin to describe what’s around me.

The room is painted sky blue, a horribly stereotypical color. What makes people think sky blue reminds us of the sky and all the limits? I mean, what’s space then? The real sky is a chalky grey colour,I’m not sure if its rain but a single waft of the smell of rain drifts in.

It mingles with my mother’s cooking, its not a distinct smell. It smells the same everyday yet the dishes taste different, frightfully familiar yet strangely different.

I wonder how it would be if I cooked. Taste like plastic or sawdust.Although saw dust may taste great.

I can see my neighbors a few levels with flickering television, 5 of those plasma tv sets receiving information from the same channels.

In the corners lie dust and sometimes a bookshelf. I say sometimes because its often buried so much crap that it doesn’t see the sunlight for days. The chair I’m sitting on feels itchy, the color red isn’t vibrant, it reminds me of dried up blood and drink stains don’t help much.

“ Do you want soup?” my mother calls from the kitchen
I tell her I’m not hungry, I’m lying. Partly. I am in a creative process and should be keeping it all rather clean.

No thoughts of food.

Fake varnished woods are beginning to peel off the corners of the study table. I can see them. I like to play with those little corners. It only makes it worse of course but the feeling of destroying something is quite good. I relish the feeling of thinned woods under my nails.

Sometimes, my table is spotless. Most of the time my books are strewn over it. There is my little black book, all in tatters and no one to fix it. A whole stacked of lined paper they call foolscap. It’s rather aptly named. Fool’s Scape. Fools who need lines to write in. Fools who need to reign in their creativity and I the fool indulges in those grey lines every day as I take note, write essays and generally keep creativity caged between two false grey lines.

I have just picked up the phone. Hi daddy? Yes, mummy’s coming.
Perhaps, it interrupts my train of thoughts but who can write for so long without her phone ringing the kettle whistling or the incessant increasingly annoying mynahs outside the flats.

I should go yell at them a bit but it would be a terrible waste of my time.

The sony ericsson manual is within reach. I can’t read it.Oh,wait I just read the title. Well it doesn’t matter. I have to go switch off the fire for the eggs or else it will go all frigid on me.

I shall have to face full force wrath from my family who does enjoy steamed eggs.
It’s all yellow and frothy and fluffy. I wonder if it’s a good thing. Or maybe I will just have my head off.

Grey and flashing a digitalized red, the old mouse sits on the black mouse pad. It had many homes before. It remembers the first which was a power puff mouspad. It put up with it, I did love power puff girls so much. Then it was the period of promotional goodies and we said goodbye power puff to someone more masculine. Spiderman. He didn’t last long; it was gone when barley ran all over it. The cup didn’t like spidey much you see so it willed the drinker to pretend to accidentally tip the cup over and spoil the pad.

Cups are intelligent and sly. They make you think you’re in control and that you are making use of them. The reality is so different I feel its unnecessary to inform you of it. Just go on using your cup.

The hand phone has found a cozy spot near the edge of the table. The keypad isn’t worn. I haven’t used it much but the screen is scratched and parts of it are chipped. I wonder if I should push back to the middle or leave it dangling as fate decides whether it will drop and fall. Fate is terribly funny, it would be amusing I suppose.

It doesn’t titer; perhaps fate doesn’t want to argue with gravity today.

My Chinese dictionary isn’t far from my sight. I feel a mixture of frustration and anxiety. Chinese is an art, why then would it seem that I have no gift in languages as I have been mangling the Chinese language for as long as I can remember.

I am not worthy.

This has expanded for three pages now. I have achieved ultimate rambling. What rubbish people put on their blogs pales to what this.

Rubbish king among the rubbish.

Pages are opened tantalizingly in front of me. I can’t resist.

“Find the HCF of each group of number”

I’m bored already, the hold puncher and stapler seem to have a fight for they are far from each other. I take note of where they are. I might need them later. They have to reconcile.

Every crook and corner have been filled with stuff, I lift my keyboard to find homework, long overdue. I am too tired to care, perhaps I should explain to my sec 1 teacher why I failed to hand up my book review once.
‘
Someone has knocked the webcam off its throne on the speakers. I’m pretty sure the speakers did it. They do not appreciate being sat on.

I should finished what I started, a ending to a beginning. No more clichés about a beginning in every end. An end finishes, until it finds another starting point.

You’re just being lazy when you say this is the beginning of an end.


Oxymorons.

I think it isn't suppose to make sense,there is no hidden meanings,whatsoever.

Its just there.

Here i am presenting you my version of 3Truth07s class-tee

So there are two of our motto's ( can we call it that? I don't think we can live by the motto " Behold Truth" they are more like slogans actually) The front of the tshirt is a girl with headphones on, so presumly shes plugging in to hear the class radio station or whatever(give your own back story) and the city is listening as well.Of course there would be the argument that shes ignoring us and listening to her Mp3 instead.Keep it optimistic will you?

Then the back comprises of an anagram.Spot it.

Truth to be told,I have no idea whether the whole design works.
For one thing, i don't think irony would suit a t-shirt and i'm reading too much into my graphics.
However i am proud to once again establish another milestone in Photoshop.I have done a vector!

It took hours and lots of dots to get the finished product of the girl with earphones but it does looks quite smashing.

Some Class icons (the phrase i just coined?=infinitely weird)

Okay,i'm done here would love to hear comments.Oh and you know the whole drill about copyright infringement right?

edit/ Haha.I got shortlisted for the blogging competeion on Youth .Sg
I suppose thats good news:)

Heres what they said:

We've decided to present some of the best entries for you guys to vote on who best deserves the Sony PSP (as we really can't decide)! Three lucky voters* will stand a chance to win HMV vouchers for helping us pick the deserving winner.

Support your Favourite Blogger with your Vote

To vote, email us at iam@youth.sg with the email header I choose b7-your name . To reward everyone for helping us pick our winning entry, each week, three lucky voters will get to win a $20 Kinokuniya Voucher*.

Deadline for Voting: Voting will close at 2359hrs on 18 January 2007

(Note: To vote, please include your Full Name, NRIC/Passport Number and Contact Number in your email for verification. Votes are restricted to one vote per person - repeated votes will be voided.)

So,vote for me if you think i deserve to win and because i am so lousy at marketing.Click Here to view the other entries.

This is an entry for:

Thank you for the back-handed compliment. the reason for the images is i like them and i have been on imvu for a long time now. And no i didn't write the poem, if you look at the bottom it has the author's name on. or did you read that far.? Be more considerate when you leave messages on peoples pages...cause you might not like the answer you recieve.

-Is thereby purely mortified by this unjust comment on my homepage-

Ps
Backhanded- extended senses; not direct in manner or language or behavior or action; ""an indirect insult";

There is a difference between being neurotic and psychotic.
I'm either both or really confused.

How about we start of the new year with an IQ test!

I'm sure you are tired of freaking 100 questions test so take this instead!

A time limit and 38 questions http://simple-iq.com

-relishes-

I got a 129 on this which proves its reliabilty:)

Love to know what you