First day of exams. English and Specialist Maths 1 (no notes or calc). English was alright, once it was over, but i thought we had an extra 15mins which we didn't so i didn't finish my second written response, we have to complete to text and two written responses in 3hrs. The quality control was so varied through the pieces that i think i'll get around a six out of ten. I'd be happy with that, maybe a lot of people will do poorly... but thats no way to approach an exam. Specialist was another matter, it stumped me completely. Position vectors, bloody position vectors, something that I forgot because it was such a little part of the course. well obviously it isn't. And i was stupid enough to consider the normal reaction in a hanging object, when that only applies if the object is on a surface. *head desk*
well nothing acan be done now except looking forward and studying harder for the next. Position vectors, kinematics, friction, complex numbers, vector calculus, intergal calculus revision to the max. here i come.

cease to coexist.
there is something beautiful about hopelessness. i don't truly understand it, but it is there. tucked under the pained expression. the limbo between doing nothing because it wouldn't change a thing or doing anything, because at the end of the day it wouldn't matter at all. but in lacking hope, nothing accomplished means anything, anything accomplished means nothing. i don't know which way that sentence should go. its the feeling when you wake up in a warm, comfortable bed and realise that you could spend your whole day here and it wouldn't make a difference, the world would still spin and orbit the sun, the moon will still orbit the earth and people would go on with their lives without you. the only life you really make a difference in, is your own. in suffering from hopelessness, that doesn't matter. it doesn't matter unless you ignore your hopelessness and just push forward. when you start to push, then things will start to matter, and hope may return. although i hate the feeling of hopelessness, i still think it is beautiful. that could just be because it can be such a strong emotion, like love, lust, sympathy, hate, depression and hope. 'nothing' can be a dominant emotion, if you would call it an emotion at all, but there is nothing beautiful about 'nothing'. it is the empy void of emotion, including hopelessness, it is the indifference that bleeds out the colour and substance in life. hopelessness is beautiful because it tells you that you can feel, that you care about something, that you can see, that you can breathe, that you're still alive in body, soul and mind. nothing hurts if you're indifferent because you can't feel anything at all, all you have is an empty vessel that you don't hate or love, it just is. so please excuse me for seeing beauty in something like hopelessness, i just feel the positives of pain should be expressed and realised that things could be much worse.

halfway to the bottom, instantly forgotten, i don't know, which way to go. is it wiser never to speak, than raise your voice and never be heard? never be heard, never be heard... (halfway to the bottom - aqualung)

Surrender - Billy Talent

she reads a book from across the street,
waiting for someone that she'll never meet
talk over coffee for an hour or two,
she wonders why i'm always in a good mood

killing time before she struts her stuff,
she needs support and i've become the crutch
she'll never know how much she means to me.
i'd play the game but i'm the referee

surrender... every word, every thought, every sound
surrender... every touch, every smile, every frown
surrender... all the pain we've endured until now
surrender... all the hope that i lost, you have found
surrender... yourself to me

even though i knowwhat i'm looking for,
she's got a brick wall behind her door
i'd travel time and confess to her,
but i'm afraid she'd shoot the messenger

surrender... every word, every thought, every sound
surrender... every touch, every smile, every frown
surrender... all the pain we've endured until now
surrender... all the hope that i lost, you have found
surrender... yourself to me

i think i found a flower in a field of weeds,
i think i found a flower in a field of weeds
searching until my hands bleed,
this flower don't belong to me
this flower don't belong to me
why can't she belong to me?

surrender... every word, every thought, every sound
surrender... every touch, every smile, every frown
surrender... all the pain we've endured until now
surrender... all the hope that i lost, you have found
surrender... yourself to me

i never had the never to ask,
has my moment come and passed?

look at it. examine it upside down. inspect every inch. every smear. memorise the details. see through the canvas. feel the colours. interpret the brush strokes. acknoledge its passion. ponder the meaning. relate to it's depth. wander into it's story. find yourself as part of it. recollect your own memories. savour the moment. close your eyes for a second. do it all once more. then tell me you hate it. tell me you hate me. give me something real. i want to be real. i am sick of two-dimentions. this is simply paint. it's only paint. i'm sick of two-dimentions. this is simply for you. it's only for you. i'm sick of two-dimentions. this is simply my heart. it's only my heart. i'm sick of two-dimentions...

with more than brains,
but less than wit,
you rob the sunset,
before the night can hit.
hanging above the horizon,
the sun burns with anger,
stopping the world's spin,
you make time last longer.
the sun trapped between your hands,
you notice your mistake.
now the world's momentum lost,
it's suddenly too late.
time as we know it stops,
your plan was not thought through,
the world is trapped mid-spin,
you only thought of you.
I wished for more time too,
but not like this at all,
with the sun's rays only reaching,
half of this earthy ball.
you finally let it go,
and nothing seems to happen,
eventually the sun sets,
the incident forgotten.
excused as a technology fault,
truths excussed across the lands,
only I really know how,
you came to lose your hands...

the frustration of new age shorthand

aii noe nutin,'bout da histri ov dis stoopid wae ov typin', bud sumtin tells miie dat aii dun wanna. wen numbrz replace l3tt3rz, den we must strt 2 worri. 4get aii sed nething, riting lyk dis is tu hard on mi brain. aii ave ta keep tinkin wich wae wud make miie sound lyk aii neva lernt ow to rite propli. lyk, u no, remid meself tuh putin y instead ov aii alf da time, and tuh remove da 'th' zound fom nglish ntirely. omg, aii jst rote 4 sentances lyk dat. lol! ail rite a translation 4 da pplz ho dun noe how tuh reed dis.

(I know nothing about the history of this stupid way of typing, but something tells me that I don't want to. When numbers replace letters, then we must start to worry. Forget I said anything, writing like this is too hard on my brain. I have to keep thinking which way would make me sound like I never learnt how to write properly. Like, you know, reminf myself to put in 'y' instead of 'i' half the time, and to remove the 'th' sound from english entirely. Oh my god/goodness/grog, I just wrote four sentences like that. laugh out loud (or haha). I'll write a translation for the people who don't know how to read this.)

p.s. I apologise for the over exaggeration, but I just had to read an e-mail from a very dear friend who unfortuantly uses this "shorthand" a lot. It is frustrating and I was frustrated. It should be limited, I should lobby against it. you use such words against me, and I'll treat you like you are talking another language, sorry i don't speak txt. English is a wonderful language (not as wonderful as others though), why slaughter it so badly?

this is may baby. isn't he a cutie? his name is Cedric and I want you all to be nice to him. No calling him a try-hard iPod, because he's better than that. And you're not allowed to call product placement, because you can't buy Cedric, he's mine. There are no others like him, and if you think I'm being possessive and a little scary, I am. Cedric is my connection to my music and therefore I love him. He's one of the top four "I take everywhere" things, and definately my favourite.
It was also his first birthday last month. That sounds a bit obsessive, but I was cleaning up for the mum moving house and I came across the receipt. It makes me just want to pinch his cheek in a scary auntie manner and say "you're one year old! coochie, coochie" but he doesn't have cheeks.
I hope I'm not the only one who personifies possessions. The could be a decent band name. the "Personified Possessions".
peace

I'm much more of a pacer (or mechanical pencil if thats what you want to call it) person. Pens are unreliable, in pockets, on paper, in exams, on furniture, with little kids (whether they draw with it or chew on it and get a mouth ful of ink, although i know some adults who have done it. Frances says NO to blue teeth), on hot days, on really cold days, if you lose the lid, when they bleed through paper and also, they're no where to be seen when you need them. Well I guess the last one applies to pacers too, but that isn't the point.
cheerio

p.s. thanks indy for pointing out the lovely toolbar feature.

p.p.s. I really can spell 'self-consciously' i was just frustrated with the pen. oh gosh... what have I done, now the world will think that my typos are actually due to my terrible spelling not clumsy and rapid typing. *shakes head* what will become of me? is there a place in this world for those who aren't consciuos? Ah! there I go again... I should stop. good night, good morning, where ever you are.

p.p.p.s. oh crap, i just put a farewell message in the post post script. now people will think i can't spell and that I don't know the proper use of post-scripts. and now that I'm over using postscripts for stuff I could have put in the body. bother.