reminder to self: I must get round to linking everyone soon...

asparagus on the sidewalk

And now, my decision has been reached!

Katoo @ Kertoo @ Fruitfruit @ Cowdung @ Katoomba @ Tong @ KayT @ Toomba Relic @ Kay @ Kari Sotong...
...will be going to Switzerland. For slightly less than a week. With no irritating brothers around. And SOON!
*fanfare*
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Postcard applications now open X)
Leave your address and we'll see what we can do

raving...about ravnica?

I am problematic. Half-assed stories like the Magic: The Gathering ones are coming back into focus, thanks to dearest, darling, much-loved and highly-appreciated Kiun Chiat. He just hAd to go buy Morningtide, now, didn't he. So I'm rereading a host of old M:tG books and now I'm big on the Kamigawa cycle all over again. Stupid, stupid half-assed books. To be fair, Lorwyn and Morningtide aren't thAT bad, I guess...but but but. Still. :(

meh.

The Raven

In keeping with my theme, here's the full version of the poem:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
'`Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

*sheepishness*

Well. That didn't take long. The relapse, I mean. Barely a week and here I am hitting the keys again. So much for resolve.

Anyway. The AFS interview yesterday was so-so, but I really wanted to laugh when my interviewer asked how do you say 'delicious' in Japanese. But I'm polite when I want to be, so I didn't. Lol. I doubt I have much of a chance la. But who cares? There's always the homestay

X)

A little something I made a while ago. Fire's surprisingly easy to make.
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I feel like making a really, really long post. So...
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Oh well. Some other time, perhaps.

byebye indulgence

And so I bid blogging farewell -- for the time being. The time, of course, being a few months. The novelty of blogging has somewhat worn a little thin on me, and I have any number of more important things to do right now. Blogging is, and always will be, a relatively interesting way to pass the time or means to give myself mental respite. I will not leave it out in the cold, to languish by its pitiful self in the gutter and gaze wistfully at the window from which it was cast. I won't spend much time with it anymore...but I don't have the strength to kill it off. I know the brave man kills that which he loves with a sword, but I don't exactly love blogging so it shouldn't really count.

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p.s.: Have I ever mentioned how...abstractly relevant the second verse of that song Time of My Life is? If I haven't before this, I have now. Hehe.
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I'm ending on this note:
<the Duke servant>
There is a knocking without, Your Grace.
Without? Without what?
...without the door, Your Grace.
Without the door? But how can anyone knock without a door?
..by knocking on the door, Your Grace.
What door?
The...door, Your Grace. The main door that leads into the castle...?
But you said there was a knocking without the door.
So I did, Your Grace.

:)

work, work, and more work, then play like there's no tomorrow (which, considering the nearing end-of-hols, is not inaccurate.)

I think it's true about abstract 'art' being very easy to do. Pool together about six colours that look good together, create intriguing effects with them and voila! What you get is a (kind of...if you squint and look at it sideways in really bad light.) quite aesthetically acceptable piece of work! I mean, it's no work of art, but it's passable, and that's what counts. Furthermore, it's possible to create that much-coveted "I-spent-ages-getting-this-effect-just-right-and-did-you-see-all-this-detailing? -that-took-ages-too" look, when it took you less time than others might think. I guess it's a case of getting lucky with the effects. That having been said, it still takes longer than I'd honestly prefer. Dammit.

what a letdown

Disappointment after disappointment. I can't find the wretched thing anywhere...but I guess even if I could, I'd be too busy to stop and read. I hate deadlines. They may encourage efficiency but they're shortchanging on style, they are.

Thinking of changing my theme...how's Ironside sound? Or would Tithe be better?

delirium

I'm having problems with my head. Work's killing me; been having massive headaches every evening for the past few days. But tonight...I'm momentarily blinded to all my problems.

Tomorrow. Is. The. Eclipse special edition release date!
I was so sure I'd be buying it on the day itself, bUT when I asked my mum for a lift to the bookstore tomorrow...she presented me with wonderful, amazing news: the BNM KBO Book Sales are coming round again, on the 2nd of June. Thaaaaat's right. 40% off stuff in MPH, Borders or Popular (but I don't ever go to Popular anyway, doesn't really count). I'm not sure if that includes new arrivals but I'm certainly not gonna buy the book a mere TWO days before the sales just for the satisfaction. I may be obsessed, but I'm not stupid.


I love my mum's job.

Lunch and movie with Her Royal, Most Venerable Highness, The Bostress (and her family...and her sister's friend) yesterday...though the lunch was just two of us. We had dessert at Delicious (some bread-thingy with custard) and, as can be expected, I got bored for a bit...

What else? I pulled out my pen and started on this:

It turned out pretty nice, though it doesn't look as good in real life.

It was entertaining, at least. Sort of. Grace brought the camera, don'taskmewhy.
The movie was...cold. At least, the theater hall was. I kind of froze twenty minutes into the beginning. Such is life.

More distractions. Avoiding the problem is wrong, but so much easier...

Nothing farther then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered --
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before --
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

-Edgar Allan Poe, "The Raven"