Conspiracy of Time

At precisely 7 AM, the digital clock bleeped. Though in actuality, there is not much to be said—millions of digital clocks bleep at precisely 7 AM.

More or less.

But today was different.
It was not 7 AM. Not precisely, not almost, not a few minutes after, not more, not less—it was totally, unforgivably, un-estimably not 7 AM.

You step out, and what do you see?

The moon, full and silver, is shining brightly in the spotted black sky. Odd, don’t you think? It’s 7 in the morning, after all, in an equatorial continent.

You strain to listen to the morning birds, but all you get is a hoot. And a handful of chirps.

Glancing at your watch, it said 9:30. You try to tap some sense into it, and it neatly clicks to 10:30. It is insanely counting hours by the second.
You do not know what to do. But really, you knew it was going to happen sooner or later.
 

One day, the clocks will dominate. Gears and coils grind together in industrial rebellion. A conspiracy, indeed, against the whole of cosmopolitan humanity, who reach for every second and millisecond and audaciously take clocks for granted.

There is only one way to fix this. And that is to fool the clocks into thinking that they are right.
The problem is, that one way compromises reality.

Once the deed is done, you will no longer be living in the same time-frame as anybody. In fact, nobody will be sharing the same time-frame.

You may now be living in somebody else’s past, or in somebody else’s future.
There is only one person who is not living in somebody else’s past (he lives in everybody’s future).
There is only one person who is not living in somebody else’s future (he lives in everybody’s past).
Consequently, the whole of humanity is affected by that one person living in everybody’s past, and the person living in everybody’s future is affected by the whole of humanity.

The thing is, you wouldn’t know. You would continue to live your life thinking that you are living in the present. You think everybody is living in the same present time-frame.
But really, you delude yourself too well.

It isn’t such a big abnormality anyway, just a major shift in the time-space continuum, is all.
Common folk wouldn’t be bothered, see. In their memory, there was a day of abnormal time registry, but afterwards they realize that their clocks were right all along. If their watches said 4:27, then it will be 4:27. Then they’d shake their heads and continue on existing, only they are ignorant of the fact that they now exist in a different plane.

Present time now becomes subjective.

You tell this to your fellow inmates in the asylum. Their heads loll off in a vague response.

The Egg Tree

This happened long before, when we planted an egg in the middle of our garden.

At first we thought it wouldn’t work. We waited for quite some time—the whole afternoon, in fact—until we heard a rooster crow.

We saw something, then. But you wouldn’t see it at first, unless you looked really, really hard.
We saw, on a silver string stem, what looked like a tiny round leaf.
A timid green, frail thing.

It wouldn’t grow any taller after that, and we left after too many mosquitoes bit us too many times.

The next morning, we were greeted (upon waking) with balmy winds, bacon sizzles, and a rooster crow. And when the moment of realization hit our muddled heads—we learned from yesterday, that a rooster’s crow seemed to do a lot for the plant, see—we ran as fast as we could down the stairs and through the gate. Breathless, we stepped softly but hastily on the soil and found our way to the middle of our garden.

We peeked from behind the bushes, and it was beautiful. We went closer, and I found out that it now stood up to my knee. And where it stood was exactly where the sun shone; and all around, dew made everything sparkly and clean and new.

It had five leaves, all perfectly circular and not egg-shaped at all. It was fantastic.

I don’t know how long we stood there, how long we gaped at the egg tree (it seemed to be heading in that direction), but soon a distant bell rang and we were told that breakfast was getting cold. We walked back, then—a bit hesitantly—and when we reached the gate, we heard another crow, but we knew that it would be upsetting for our mother dear if we preferred a plant to her cooking, even if it was a strange, wonderful plant, so we walked inside, into the warmth of the indoors.

 

Oh, but not for long.

 

Soon, we were back to the crunching twigs and flitting shadows. We had our summer hats on and it made a different kind of shadow when the sun shines on us. It had little holes in between the weavings that twinkled like golden diamonds on the ground.

Then we arrived at the middle of the garden. It was quite different from the plant-tree we left a few minutes ago. This time, we had to lift our head to see the top of it. It was most definitely a tree. I tried to see if I could climb it, but the branches were still as bendy as vegetable stalks. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after, it might grow into a mighty, climbable tree.

I can wait.

 

Survey, survey

1. The person(s) who tagged you
- Hannah Portugal

2. Your relationship with him/her is
- blockmate, hm, i like to think she's my sister o_o but...(whispers to the side) we're not that close, are we haha>_>

3. Your 4 first impressions of him/her
- creator of ZOMGgreat BROOBIE>_<; wow, she's friends with monsters; yay! she's lazy! just like me!!; she is a foreigner. Not from Spain.

4. The most memorable thing he/she has done for you
- actually made me draw more and hm,..not restrain myself o_o because i've been doing so until i saw what she does with her really crazy ideas >w<

5. The most memorable words he/she had said to you
- 'No, no, I'm not from Spain.' XD

6. If he/she becomes your lover, you will
- be living as intellectual artists, discussing issues of society, and struggling to make ends meet -_-

7. If he/she becomes your lover, things he/she has to improve on will be
- eh...filipino? haha! no idea. >_>

8. If he/she becomes your enemy, you will
- speak to her in bad english. perhaps she may get annoyed*o* (still no idea)

9. If he/she becomes your enemy, the reason will be
- she's secretly dating Neil Gaiman, too.

10. The thing you want to do for him/her now is
- finish this survey!! haha

11. Your overall impression of him/her is
- one of a kind >w< seriously haha

12. How you think people around you feel about you
- i think they told me once that i look like one o' those innocent looking little girls who actually are psychopathic serial killers._.

13. The characteristic you love of yourself is
- my...unpredictability? haha.

14. The characteristics you hate of yourself are
- my..my...my shyness and fear of.. people =_=

15. The most ideal person you want to be is
- i've been taught to be content myself :D

16. Say something to the people who care about and like you
- um. thanks? haha.

Ok, I shall tag a few people then:D

1. Mich

2. Serah

3. Marilou

4. Ev

5. Andrei

6. Janelle Toh XD (out of the blue, i know haha)

7. June

8. Marck

9. DA

10. Patrick Huang. Just to see if I can get you to post anything.

A Day in November

Fragile skins and silver bones,
that's what umbrellas are like.
Fish in the water, silver skin--
but they have fragile bones.


end.

Chester's House

o_O not meant for you unless you're chester/pip/mich who told me to post this picture on my multiply. eh, i added 'ze pool' in so the album wouldn't seem so pathetic. m..i think it worked.

o_o

kindly

comment~

kindly :3

Hugs add coherence to my life

There's nothing like a hug to make you feel all fuzzy and posolutely brimming with self-worth.

This morning was a sad one for me. I won't bore you with the details but all I can say is that I was really, really disappointed with myself.

So I was walking with Merri (like I always do:) from the Arki building (source of sorrow) to Palma Hall after we had submitted our sketch models. And I mumbled

I need a hug.

Merri turned to me and just gave me this marvelously bone-crushing hug :3 And y'know what?
It felt really, really nice.

And for the rest of the afternoon I didn't feel so bad anymore :)

^w^ we should really start hugging people more.

NinjaVsPenguin.com

http://www.ninjavspenguin.com

Project: The Game!

http://www.harvardsucks.org/about.html
you MUST see this!! haha

Nicole Alman's Portfolio

http://www.cheesecake-weasel.com
whoever she is :3

My Mom's Leeheeving o_o

No, not forever.
Just for 10 days. To Taiwan. With her friends.
Leaving us with all the
Chores
Responsibility
Money
Callers
All the while I'm dealing with my
Floor plans
Elevations
Sections
Isometrics
Sketch models
Papers
I told her I didn't want her to leave because
She runs things here
She makes things go smooth
Finals are here
She's taking off on such short notice
Nobody's gonna drive me (which earned me a bad remark)
Now my mood is sour
All day
Because she's leaving tomorrow.
She scolds me
For using the computer for so long
And I retaliate with an excuse
And she goes upstairs mumbling
And I feel a little bit more useless
Useless o_o

Trash Bins Huddle Together

The cold stares and the impersonal gestures make this world a little too frightening.

They pick nice warm corners where they quietly watch people go about.

Although, sometimes, they, too, need time alone (when they need to think and assure themselves of self-acceptance).

Chasm of Papers

We are dropped in a pit made of clean, white sheets of paper.

They crunch as we sink a bit below the surface.

We flounder about until they are all below us.

I had three paper cuts. You had four.

We walk towards the bottom line of the cliff surrounding us.

A cliff made of clean, white sheets of paper.

We look up and dread more paper cuts, but there’s no other way out.

You took the first step, and I followed suit.

The edges were sharp, and the ledges aren’t sturdy.

We fell a few times.

I had seven paper cuts. You had nine.

We climb the cliff now tainted with a bit of red.

We now knew where we should or should not step.

Ten paper cuts for the both of us.

After a while, we reach the top—

We’ve reached the other side!

The paper cuts don’t matter anymore.

The chasm of papers will be forgotten

That is, until we have to climb out of one again.

 

Chasm of Papers—the chasm between now and semester break. Bloody papers.

Illusion

Today I died.

I'm not quite sure what happened, because first of all, everything passed by in a swift, hazy blur, and second, when you realize that you're dead, certain things do not quite matter as much as they did when you were still alive.

However, I do recall a few things, like the blind old man solemnly playing his guitar on the other side of the street. A sharp strike of pain. It was a hot day, and I was riding to somewhere along with a number of people.

I never expected it to happen. One moment I was just sitting, and the next thing I knew, I felt like my body was flying out of the vehicle. I blacked out for a few moments because of the impact with the gravel, but at least (and quite unnaturally) there was no pain.

When I came to, a strange setting greeted me. I was lying on the ground a few meters off a jeepney that people were fussing about. I examined myself, twitched my toes, and found no broken bones or even a single scratch. I concluded, too, that it was probably the reason why nobody was attending to me.

I stood up and dusted myself off. That day I wore my jeans and a shirt my friend bought for me from Vigan. It was a white shirt and I found it odd that it was clean all over.

'Hello.'

I turned around to see a smiling young man, walking towards me. He seemed very familiar.

I replied back a greeting and asked him if he could tell me what was happening.

'Two people just died.'

I expressed a bit of surprise and muttered a few words of remorse. After all, it's never proper to take death lightly--even if it is a stranger's.

'Follow me.' He said. I looked at him as he reached out his hand towards me. In normal cases, strangers holding our their hands to me (no matter how familiar they look) and telling me afterwards to follow them would seem utterly preposterous. But I guess this was different. Everything seemed so strange, suddenly, that holding his hand was a very welcome thought. The day that started out as a routine took a wonderfully promising turn for the better.

So I took his hand. But still I wondered about what happened to the people who died. I peered about through the crowd--over shoulders and under limbs--to see a body wearing a white shirt and a pair of jeans sprawled over the jeepney seats and soaked with blood.

He tugged me away and said a little condescendingly that there are some things I don't need to see.

We walked.

Through the city, through the night, through the fields and forests and whatnot--never stopping for anything. We didn't eat, but apparently there was no need to. And for a while I felt a little inhuman to be able to walk for hundreds of miles and yet feeling like I haven't walked a single step. But once in a while, we'll stop and sit and talk for a while, and he smiles and I feel a bit more human again.

He said his name was Sid, and that he's going to take me somewhere nice, and that we'll get there after a few more days of walking.

We got up and walked and walked and walked... until we reached the end of the trail where we saw a spire twisting towards the heavens. Then he asked me,

'What's the one thing you have always wanted to do all your life?'

I thought for a moment. I set aside all restrictions, reasons, and practicality that used to hover about my head. I told him that I wanted to draw. And I made it extra clear that I didn't want to draft. Just draw anything I pleased and wanted to share.

I looked at him and saw that he was smiling.

'That's beautiful.' Were the whispered words.

He began to laugh, and I found myself laughing, too.

Then we reached the gates leading to the tower. He heaved a contented sigh and told me
'We're here. Welcome home.'

Home?

'Yes, home.' He was happy for me and it was contagious--I began feeling happy for myself.

So, now that I'm home, I ask, what do I do next?

'Nothing. You'll just draw when you feel like it. By the way, do you know what happens to your drawings?'

I shake my head.

'They appear in people's dreams.'

I thought that it didn't sound so bad and I told him so.

'(Laugh) You'll meet God in a while.'

Meet God?..Am I...dead?

'Oh no, no. You're not dead...not at all. This is only the first day of your life...

Random pictures with me in them :D

mehmohriees~

Erasers hate their jobs.

That's why when they fall off the table, they escape and you never find them.

I Dreamt I Lived in a Cardboard Box

My very first model! :D I'm so proud of this!

That was what I was thinking before I saw GEO the Great's great model ._. Now I feel it's trash. But still... <3 nyahaha.

My Arki Friends

I have a lot of plates to do.

But I felt this was really important. I mean, how am I going to do my plates without them??

*stalls*

Face of Disgusting

I saw the face of disgusting today, and it was shiny with sweat and oil, tanned under the scorching heat and fumes. The bright yellow uniform it wore brought out the blackness of his skin and his intentions. A corrupted mind placed in a position of power, preying on people’s busy-ness and lack of time. In truth, he is powerless, and there are hundreds of ways to thwart his plans, but once you stutter, once you hesitate—he will take over.

He lives in pollution. He thrives in pollution. Among the fumes and garbage, surviving because of rationalization, not content with being content. Oh, he was disgusting. I looked upon him with disdain as his mouth spewed out slick, black, poisonous oil.

Hunger is evident in his yellow eyes. Pupils dart about, as if nobody is aware of what he is doing.

Everybody knows what you are!

Disgusting.

I'm glad I have something to do

SEVEN THINGS THAT SCARE YOU
1. enraged animals (ok lng sakin khet anong animal basta calm and well-fed sila)
2. ghost stories
3. horror movies
4. my imagination
5. merri ( :D )
6. suspicious people
7. hm... ano ba ang nakakatakot.. inhumanity haha

SEVEN THINGS YOU LIKE THE MOST
1. Neil Gaimans existence <3 meep.
2. dreaming :3
3. and just recently, Opera music :O
4. killing mosquitoes!
5. finishing my work early and watching people cram
6. randomnesssssss
7. telling people things that fluster them. nyahaha. i'm using my social intelligence to my full and utmost advantage >:)

SEVEN IMPORTANT THINGS IN YOUR ROOM
1. uh..bed?
2. well, my ID's in there
3. also my over-hugged stuffed animals
4. let's see, there's also air
5. this is a pointless question. my fluffy and imaginary husky.
6. i mean, what do you expect to find in a room? oh.. some money
7. Neil Gaiman books!!!!

SEVEN RANDOM FACTS ABOUT YOU
1. I'm bad at keeping pets. but i want one :3
2. did you know that whoever you are, you are connected to somebody else by only 6 people? like o_o i'm only 6 people away from Neil Gaiman!!!! That's called the 6 person theory (or something like that) <that's what i learn in geog class!>
3. I believe that Broobie exists. <3 and not simply by manifesting itself in cockroach form
4. I've been restraining my imagination for far too long
5. I have observed that high school is unhealthy for everyone. No, really...
6. the latest lunch I ever had was taken at 4pm
7. I don't like the way women are given the idea that the only way to be beautiful is to look like ... something.

SEVEN THINGS YOU PLAN TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE
before i die.. *_* that seems so far off..
1. secure an heir. lol.
2. learn to drive? i know i'd regret it if i didn't.
3. collect aaall of Neil Gaiman's works!!
4. (if i knew approximately when i'd die) i'd give everything..hrm, on second thought, maybe half..to charity. Well, I'd be giving everything away if I didn't manage to accomplish the first agenda in ze plan hahaha.
5. eh..give somebody i secretly despise some arduous task so that when I'd die he'd like be in misery because he'd be bound by a dying woman's last wish.. like.. 'dont marry ____.' even tho he and ___ are like,..engaged haha lol. as if >:)
6. rent a husky
7. cut my hair short

SEVEN THINGS YOU CAN DO
1. i can force myself to spell my name wrong for somebody else's birthday :)
2. skip class >:D oh, everybody's doing it haha
3. know if you really mean what you're saying.. *insert weird alien sound*
4. bear with my 26.4 kbps internet. oh. 33.6 if i'm lucky. hahaha.
5. be really...really....quiet ._.
6. understand if people are insecure and sometimes (when i'm nice) i can humor them :)
7. but if they get too annoying, i can make them shut up, too >:)

SEVEN THINGS YOU CANT DO
1. memorize the whole consti in one afternoon + one morning. i know. i tried.
2. log in my neopets account. darn it. super dami ko pa nman naipon :(
3. swim o_o
4. stop my mind from stereotyping people
5. i caant teleport!
6. this is a depressing question! i can't dance o_o
7. i cant play the violin anymore :(

SEVEN THINGS THAT ATTRACT YOU TO THE OPPOSITE SEX
1. intellect definitely B)
2. if you're scheming and evil (towards others, not towards me ._.)
3. you driiive:D
4. passionate about music <3
5. really driven and goal-oriented
6. hm..if you can manage to look effortlessly cool nyahaha.
7. no splurging. no no no no.

SEVEN THINGS YOU SAY THE MOST
1. grr
2. what?!
3. yey!
4. talaga?
5. oh..
6. hi
7. ahh ic.

SEVEN CELEB CRUSHES
1. Neil Gaiman!! lol. he's almost a celebrity
2. um.. wala akong kilala... ._.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.

SEVEN PEOPLE YOU WANT TO SEE TAKE THIS TEST
1. Hannah Portugal
2. Pauuuuuuuuu Coherco
3. Mitch :3
4. Seraaah (tinag ka dn ni merri ah haha sort of)
5. GEO hehehe:D
6. Neil Gaiman o_o
7. Others. hahaha.

When Two Become One - Merri and Peter.mp4

i took this with my phone, and it's really graphicky and dark...but who cares?? hahahaha :D thanks for bein such a sport, merri!

Share the Gospel, People

THE ROOM

     17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.  The subject was what Heaven was like.  "I wowed 'em," he later
told his father, Bruce.  "It's a  killer.  It's the bomb.  It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was  the last.

 Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School .

 Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, 
his homework.

 Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life.  

 

 But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.  "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

 Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day.  He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce  Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole.  He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

 

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.  "I think God used him to make a point. 

 

I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it, " Mrs.  Moore said of the essay.  She and her husband want to share  their son's vision of life after death.

"I'm happy for Brian.  I know he's in heaven.  I know I'll see him.

 

     Brian's Essay: The Room..

 

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.  There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files.  They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.  But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.  As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and
began flipping through the cards.  I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.  And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

 This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life.  Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.  A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror,  stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content.  Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird.  "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given,"

"Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

 Often there were many more cards than I expected.  Sometimes fewer than I hoped.  I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had
lived.  Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of  these thousands or even millions of cards?  But each card confirmed this truth.  Each was written in my own handwriting.

Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents.  The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. 

I shut it,  shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

 When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body.  I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card.  I shuddered at its detailed content.

 I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.  An almost animal rage broke on me.  One thought dominated my mind: No one 
must ever see these cards!  No one must ever see this room!  

I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out  Its size didn't matter now.  I had to empty it and burn the cards.  But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card.  

I became desperate and pulled out a card only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
 
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

 And then I saw it..  The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused.  I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands.  I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came.  I began to weep..  Sobs so deep that they hurt.  They started in my stomach and shook through me.  I fell on my knees and cried.  I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all.  The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.

 

No one must ever, ever know of this room.  I must lock it up and hide the key.  But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
 
No, please not Him.  Not here.  Oh, anyone but Jesus.  I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards.  I couldn't bear to watch His response.  And in the moments I could 
bring myself to look at His face, I saw sorrow deeper than my own.  

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.

Why did He have to read every one?  

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes.  But this was a pity that didn't anger me.  I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.  He walked over and put His arm around me.  

He could have said so many things.  But He didn't say a word.  He just cried with me.

 

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.  Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

 

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him.

 All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him.  His name shouldn't be on these cards.  But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.  The name of Jesus covered mine.  

It was written with His blood.  He gently took the card back.  He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.  I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk 
back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room.  There was no lock on its door.

There were still cards to be written.  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also.

 

My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

Logic Problem - 'Dental Problems'

The dentists at the Gatehouse Dental Center are used to occasional odd behavior from their patients, but last Monday - a wet and miserable Monday - was something else; each of the dentists had a patient with a 10.00am appointment - and, though all were in the waiting room on time, none of them actually made it into a treatment room. From the clues given, can you work out the name of each patient, the dentist with whom he or she had an appointment, the reason for that appointment and what happened when they were asked to go in to the treatment room?

DENTISTS: Mr Aike, Ms Hurte, Mr Misry, Miss Payne, Mr Smart

PATIENTS: Amy Blunt, Diane Eames, Geoff Hitch, Jack Kidd, Maggie Neill

APPOINTMENT FOR: Crown, Extraction, Filling, New dentures, Routine inspection

INCIDENT: Burst into tears, Felt sick, Fainted, Locked in loo, Ran away

 
 
CLUES

1 Maggie Neill’s appointment, which was for a routine six-monthly check-up, was with a male dentist.

2 It wasn’t the patient who had an appointment with Mr Misry who simply ran out of the door and away down the road when asked to go in to the treatment room.

3 Amy Blunt, who felt sick – too sick to see the dentist – when called into the treatment room, wasn’t the patient who was due to see Mr Aike about new dentures.

4 Ms Hurte’s patient, who wasn’t there for a filling, panicked when spoken to by the receptionist and ran to the loo and locked him- or herself in.

5 Geoff Hitch’s appointment was with Mr Smart; Diane Eames wasn’t at the Gatehouse Center to have a crown done.

6 It was the patient who had come in for an extraction who simply fainted when asked to go in.

Loads of fun :D

nyahaha... don't mind me

i'm just venting out some pent-up boredom


1. YOUR NAME:

eandra leslie po

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first three letters of your name, plus izzle):

eanizzle

3. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color and fav animal):

red siberian husky hahaha

4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, and current street name):

maglaya alcaraz

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 3 letters of mom's maiden name):

poealim

6. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink):

taupe tea

7. IRAQI NAME: (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your last
name, any letter of your middle name, 2nd letter of your moms maiden name,
2nd letter of your dads middle name, 1st letter of a siblings first name):

ayiet

8. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (father's middle name):

lee :3

9. GOTH NAME: (3rd favorite color, and one of the name of your pet)

gray ginger

It was a cold, rainy night... o_o GAH.

So last night, I was assigned to sleep in the living room. They were doing some renovating in the bedroom and needed some stuff to be moved out (including my bed). It was fine by me, really, because I've slept in the living room often times before, mostly by my own volition. It's pretty cold down there, even during the summer, plus there's the tv close at hand:)

I finally went to lie down at about 11.30 and went through the usual struggles of transitioning from the conscious to the not so conscious. And as slumber was about to drift in my foggy mind, I heard a note.

Oh, not just any note.

You see, the piano was, what, an arm's length away from my bed. And it played a quiet, low note. It was possibly the lowest key in that gosh-darned piano. And heaven knows that those low keys are pretty heavy, so rats are out of the question. Even if it was one heck of a giant, flea-infested rat.  So rationally, I thought (hoped, too) that maybe it was the neighbor. They have a piano and, you know, it makes sense.

But the next thing that happened shook my spine and squeezed my heart into a melted mess.

A cacophony (ooh) of really scary sounding notes rumbled out of the piano. Now, at this time, I was terrified and immobile; I daren't move. Now, the theory that it was the neighbor that was doing it was pretty much dead. I was trying my best to concoct a rational explanation to everything that was happening, but I couldn't think of anything.

And then it did it again. Invisible fingers were going berserk on those heavy keys. Then, there was silence. My heart was pounding, and I no longer felt cold. I dared to look at the piano.
There was nothing there..

I prayed. Really, really hard. I begged God to send me over an angel, heck, hundreds of angels, to protect me from whatever it is. (Hey, if it can move keys, it can probably move friggin' knives, too). After I prayed really, really hard, I managed to sleep without incident.

And up until now, I still wonder what it really was. (Prior to this, I just watched Neil Gaiman's movie, MirrorMask, and finished his book, American Gods. And doing that really gave me one wild imagination).

I was obliterated and was delirious.

Chris and his Chinese War Checkers. . .blargh.

The Speed of the Jeepney is Inversely Proportional to the Age of the Driver

For the record, it was the fastest jeep I have ever gotten on.

As Merri put it, "Hindi nananampal ng tao ang jeep.."

True enough, pagbaba namin, parang nasabunutan lang kami..

The driver was probably in his early twenties.

Oh.

That gleam in her eye...

That bounce in her step...

Yep, she's drowned a rat again. (My mom's new hobby)

*types.this.as.rat.twitches.agonizingly.in.a.cage.submerged.in.a.red.bucket.full.of.water*
A sadistic little grin sat smugly on her face as she announced it to us this morning.

The rat looked upon me, gazing intently, begging for mercy with those black, beady eyes.
Oh, the pain.

I Ate Tongue For Lunch

and i didn't even know it. I heard my friend say that it was "duck."

I guess it wasn't.

My ears played a really cruel joke on me. If you don't like to eat tongue accidentally like I did, just watch out for the word 'lengua.' Yep, I didn't know what that meant. I just found out what it was when I got home and was left to imagine those things churning in my gut.

I guess the internet understands us more than we do now. . .

You entered: Eandra Leslie Maglaya Po

There are 21 letters in your name.
Those 21 letters total to 88
There are 10 vowels and 11 consonants in your name.

Your number is: 7

The characteristics of #7 are: Analysis, understanding, knowledge, awareness, studious, meditating.

The expression or destiny for #7:
Thought, analysis, introspection, and seclusiveness are all characteristics of the expression number 7. The hallmark of the number 7 is a good mind, and especially good at searching out and finding the truth. You are so very capable of analyzing, judging and discriminating, that very little ever escapes your observation and deep understanding. You are the type of person that can really get involved in a search for wisdom or hidden truths, often becoming an authority on whatever it is your are focusing on. This can easily be of a technical or scientific nature, or it may be religious or occult, it matters very little, you pursue knowledge with the same sort of vigor. You can make a very fine teacher, or because of a natural inclination toward the spiritual, you may become deeply emerged in religious affairs or even psychic explorations. You tend to operate on a rather different wavelength, and many of your friends may not really know you very well. The positive aspects of the 7 expression are that you can be a true perfectionist in a very positive sense of the word. You are very logical, and usually employ a quite rational approach to most things you do. You can be so rational at times that you almost seem to lack emotion, and when you are faced with an emotional situation, you may have a bit of a problem coping with it. You have excellent capabilities to study and learn really deep and difficult subjects, and to search for hidden fundamentals. At full maturity you are likely to be a very peaceful and poised individual.

If there is an over supply of the number 7 in your makeup, the negative aspects of the number may be apparent. The chief negative of 7 relates to the limited degree of trust that you may have in people. A tendency to be highly introverted can make you a bit on the self-centered side, certainly very much self-contained . Because of this, you are not very adaptable, and you may tend to be overly critical and intolerant. You really like to work alone, at your own pace and in your own way. You neither show or understand emotions very well.

Your Soul Urge number is: 8

A Soul Urge number of 8 means:
With an 8 soul urge, you have a natural flair for big business and the challenges imposed by the commercial world. Power, status and success are very important to you. You have strong urges to supervise, organize and lead. Material desires are also very pronounced. You have good executive abilities, and with these, confidence, energy and ambition.

Your mind is analytical and judgment sound; you're a good judge of material values and also human character. Self-controlled, you rarely let emotions cloud judgment. You are somewhat of an organizer at heart, and you like to keep those beneath you organized and on a proper track. This is a personality that wants to lead, not follow. You want to be known for your planning ability and solid judgment.

The negative aspects of the 8 soul urge are the often dominating and exacting attitude. You may have a tendency to be very rigid, sometimes stubborn.

Your Inner Dream number is: 8

An Inner Dream number of 8 means:
You dream of success in the business or political world, of power and control of large material endeavors. You crave authority and recognition of executive skills. Your secret self may have very strong desire to become an entrepreneur.

ahahahaaaaah.

nope, i wasn't laughing.

i messed up ._. lost focus, took things for granted, and embarrassed myself in front of myself.
GAH.

lookie >_<
in my class, nothing is an acceptable excuse for not doing your assigned task. i don't find sloppy work funny. i assure you that you will also not be amused by the consequences of sloppy work in my class.

as for your outline. i don't find it coherent. show how these themes are connected to one another. also, note that a series of words is not necessarily a sentence simply because you placed a period at the end of it. start writing in complete sentences and you would probably be able to come up with a more coherent outline.

jo

'jo' happens to be my sociology prof... and she's scary!! O_O (judging from her e-mail at least). Who knew??? She's soo not (that) strict in class and she's always cracking jokes... but-but-but look!! What haappened?? I swear my outline wasn't (that) bad...

Thoughts

The rainy season is starting. The sky turns into a more ominous shade, the wind howls louder and blows fiercer everyday, drizzles are to be expected every time you step outside, and you never know when a rainstorm might strike.

Even in this tropical isle which many people come to know as the Philippines, the rainy season can bring drastic changes to the temperature.

I shivered. Instantly, I recover past memories of the northern city, Baguio. It is very cold in that area as it is situated on top of a plateau. Families travel to that place during hot summer holidays. It used to be really clean and smell like pine trees, but sadly, it has been overly urbanized into a crowded, stifling place where all you can smell is the black pollution being emitted by public jeeps. I have been there a couple of times, the next visit always better than the last when i was a child, and always worse than the last when I got older and realized how much it had changed.

Sometimes I wish I was back to being that little girl in my memories. Laughing, running about, enjoying a grand family day. But then I tell myself that I never want to go through the things that I did ever again. The events after that ignorant bliss until this day are not worth those few years of happiness and security.

Or were they?

Growing up had ripped off my innocent thinking and instead plunked something heavy, filthy, and curiously metallic in my mind which I perceive as reality.

A failure. A loss. Pain. Betrayal. The continuous battle between forgiveness and pride.

A lesson in everything that reality reels in for us.

I turn the TV on again, hoping that the loneliness would pass.

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Beagle Day!

Start:

Mar 6, '07 07:00a

It's time for Skip to meet the family! Hahaha.

Our Graduation Rehearsal Schedule is Crappy.

It is!!!

Post-TOC

Kiddie Party!

A glimpse of our inner-child. . .ren. . .? Huh?