Quick, ere you fall into my trap.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I should create a new tag: Quickies.
And I love the word "ere". Doesn't it sound so... poetic?
*Sigh*
I can't help it, but I'm posting. A headache is building up at the base of my skull and it's pounding away at my temples. I don't get migraines; my dad does. But I'm starting to wonder if genes are meddling in again.
We had our yearly Prefectorial Installation this morning. And Jehan was being hyper.
HYPER.
I do believe I'm now inflicted with the same sickness she has been suffering throughout the day.
My crappiness has never thus far exceeded bullshit. But today, it went way over the roof, beyond bullshitti-ness.
And I do believe it's one of those times, that I laugh, but I still sound bloody desperate.
Dang, I need to slow down. And I'm barely 17.
Someone-- well, two people-- caught my heart unawares today. They made warmth trickle like heated, molten honey that seeps through every pore of your skin.
1st person: Abz
Vince said that in our thread in our Fiction Guild, we were getting really off-track. Talking about education and sundry when we were supposed to be insulting/criticising my poem. (He calls me Fariz for some unknown reason. But since he knows Latin and Greek, I forgive him. XD)
Abz replied: I can't criticise her work. I like it, and I don't like to contradict myself XD.
Haha, Abz. Thank you. Awww, let me melt again at your words. Awww...
And Vince: I love your drunken poems. They are very beautiful despite the fact that somehow I seem to let the innuendos pass me by. Goodness, how could I overlook such things? ;p Thank you for your sage advice and beautiful comradeship... although we both know that I'm better at photoshop. XD
2nd Person: Cheng Ken.
*Takes in deep breath*.
No one has ever commented on my poem so ... beautifully. Okay, maybe it wasn't that beautifully done, nor was it eloquent, but the fact that he understood the poem, and his in-depth feeling for it... it just... swept me away.
Pn. Lee, I will abduct your son one day, and make him mine. XD
We were actually talking about his poem that he had submitted the other day. Him being a "facts" man, I could see that he was rather insecure about poems and short stories. (Ah, Zi Kang, now I understand what you went through with us.) Being HOD means you have 7 hearts within your hands. And you can't help but have to handle them tenderly.
So, I tried to get his spirits up again, telling him that his poem was good, for a facts-man. I told him about how I used to write my poems.
And then, out of the blue, he said : "Oh, I like your poem. The one that was put inside the "karangan" part."
I was like, "Ohh?"
"The way you wrote it was like you were really there. About the nafas, and stuff. I liked it."
And I went "Awww, really?"
And I wasn't being sarcastic. I was really, really touched.
Then he said it all over again, which just turned me into a pile of mush at his feet.
What you regularly hear is "Nice poem, dear!" "It was a great poem, Far!" "Hanna, nice!"
You don't hear his kind of speech every day. So I guess I'll cherish it for now.
Thank you all. I never knew I would ever have been this blessed.
In front of each open door stood a young woman.
I could see... a well-worn bed.
Because the music you play has long ended.
And I love the word "ere". Doesn't it sound so... poetic?
*Sigh*
__________
I can't help it, but I'm posting. A headache is building up at the base of my skull and it's pounding away at my temples. I don't get migraines; my dad does. But I'm starting to wonder if genes are meddling in again.
We had our yearly Prefectorial Installation this morning. And Jehan was being hyper.
HYPER.
I do believe I'm now inflicted with the same sickness she has been suffering throughout the day.
My crappiness has never thus far exceeded bullshit. But today, it went way over the roof, beyond bullshitti-ness.
And I do believe it's one of those times, that I laugh, but I still sound bloody desperate.
Dang, I need to slow down. And I'm barely 17.
____________
Someone-- well, two people-- caught my heart unawares today. They made warmth trickle like heated, molten honey that seeps through every pore of your skin.
1st person: Abz
Vince said that in our thread in our Fiction Guild, we were getting really off-track. Talking about education and sundry when we were supposed to be insulting/criticising my poem. (He calls me Fariz for some unknown reason. But since he knows Latin and Greek, I forgive him. XD)
Abz replied: I can't criticise her work. I like it, and I don't like to contradict myself XD.
Haha, Abz. Thank you. Awww, let me melt again at your words. Awww...
And Vince: I love your drunken poems. They are very beautiful despite the fact that somehow I seem to let the innuendos pass me by. Goodness, how could I overlook such things? ;p Thank you for your sage advice and beautiful comradeship... although we both know that I'm better at photoshop. XD
2nd Person: Cheng Ken.
*Takes in deep breath*.
No one has ever commented on my poem so ... beautifully. Okay, maybe it wasn't that beautifully done, nor was it eloquent, but the fact that he understood the poem, and his in-depth feeling for it... it just... swept me away.
Pn. Lee, I will abduct your son one day, and make him mine. XD
We were actually talking about his poem that he had submitted the other day. Him being a "facts" man, I could see that he was rather insecure about poems and short stories. (Ah, Zi Kang, now I understand what you went through with us.) Being HOD means you have 7 hearts within your hands. And you can't help but have to handle them tenderly.
So, I tried to get his spirits up again, telling him that his poem was good, for a facts-man. I told him about how I used to write my poems.
And then, out of the blue, he said : "Oh, I like your poem. The one that was put inside the "karangan" part."
I was like, "Ohh?"
"The way you wrote it was like you were really there. About the nafas, and stuff. I liked it."
And I went "Awww, really?"
And I wasn't being sarcastic. I was really, really touched.
Then he said it all over again, which just turned me into a pile of mush at his feet.
What you regularly hear is "Nice poem, dear!" "It was a great poem, Far!" "Hanna, nice!"
You don't hear his kind of speech every day. So I guess I'll cherish it for now.
Thank you all. I never knew I would ever have been this blessed.
___________
In front of each open door stood a young woman.
I could see... a well-worn bed.
Because the music you play has long ended.
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