It's not about being weird. It's about being unique.

First of all, I would like to apologize to my bro for posting this so late. I didn't think about this 'coz I have been busy at that time (March 2007) attending the NS and getting ready for Form 6. Well, at least I still write this, right? Haha...

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Each player of this game starts out by giving 6 weird things about themselves. People who get tagged need to write in a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rules clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. After you do that, leave them each a comment letting them know you tagged them and to read your blog! 1. Okay. Here's the first and most obvious and most irritating. I have this strange "obsession" about hygiene. I guess this is why my parents always think that I am too finicky. Example: Drinking a glass of not-so-clean water might not be much of a trouble for most of you. But if there are any particles floating in the water, I would not drink it, even if they are harmless. Another example is that I would keep a watchful eye on my food. If there are any black things (blackened/charred food), I would rather give up eating it. Call it a fear, a paranoia, a phobia, an obsession, or whatever if you like. For me, it's my identity. 2. I guess the second one should be the habit of responding to other people who are talking but no one listen to them. I "developed" this habit because of my own self. Seeing people being cold-shouldered makes me feel uncomfortable. In this case, I will try to respond to them, no matter what they're talking about. I do this because I don't want other people to feel the same way as I was (I used to think that nobody seems to listen to me when I am talking, but I have already got used to it.). I know how it feels to be cold-shouldered. Awful. 3. Third one should be my compassion to almost every living thing (except mosquitoes and houseflies). Most people will kill ants or centipedes or millipedes or lil' helpless insects when they see them. I used to be like that when I was small. Torturing insects, pluck off their wings, make them flightless... But now I won't even crush an ant (I just merely "flick" or blow them away). I can't even watch my mom slaughter a chicken, or scald a rat to death. Feel sorry for them. 4. The fourth one is my inability to make decisions quickly. I guess this is what have been troubling me all the time. Try this: while playing racing game, if I was given 2 roads to choose, left and right, sometimes I would just slam into the divider in the middle. Sigh. Or when other people gave me 2 options, then I would take up to almost a day to think about it. Often I would just make a quick decision, but later I would regret it. 5. Fifth should be my skinny body and the inability to be fat. Ever since I was 13, I started to slim down tremendously. Imagine this: even my primary schoolmates also couldn't recognize me at first sight. From a chubby little boy, I grew up to be a gangly teen. Tall and skinny, a la aneroxic. Haha... I guess that's why I feel giddy easily. 6. I dunno. 6th should be my unusual mood changes. No, I am not having period. Mind you. But I easily get impatient and angry, or so-called hot-tempered, but at some times I can be very patient, as cool as a cucumber. Sometimes I can be very very talkative, and yet at some point I am a very good listener. Friends always "confess" to me as though I am a Father, if you get what I mean. Call it alter-ego, as if I have 2 souls in 1 body. 2 personalities. Okay. That's six. I don't think I have any friends to tag, except my bros, who had already written their idiosyncrasies. Well, guess this will be the end of the line.

To me...

This poem is dedicated to (L-R) Hooi Pheng, Pei Sun, Chee Huan, and Hwoi Leng.

To me...
Year 2007 is a big turning point,
Because that's when I changed my viewpoint;
That's when I changed my personality,
Almost completely.

I didn't turn at the point just like that,
But it was my friends who gave a push at my back.

But bear in mind,
This is not a poem about me,
Or how I changed my individuality;
It is a poem about 4 "special" friends,
Who walked into my life and made me change.

To me...
One of them is actually my primary schoolmate,
Who took a very long time to recognize my face;
Her name is Hooi Pheng,
And I knew her the moment she talked to my friend.

To me...
She is a polite girl,
Who still possess the qualities she once had;
Albeit she is a little taller than others,
That doesn't stop her from making new pals.
Although sometimes she can be quite serious,
I know that, deep inside her, she is not furious.

To me...
The second person is,
The one to who took the initiatives;
She is the first one to mix with us,
And THAT had actually help me unlocked my "inner prison".

To me...
She is the most playful among the four,
And probably the most talkative among them all;
Her name is Chee Huan, but people call her "purple ring",
'coz that's what her name literally means.
She may be playful and talkative,
But all in all, she makes a good buddy.

To me...
She looked very familiar when I first saw her face,
It's like I had met her before, sometime, someplace;
We, in fact, became close after a "disaster",
Of which I accidentally drank her water bottle.

To me...
Her name is actually Pei Sun,
And it's uncannily the same as an old friend of mine;
Same in Chinese words, but differ in alphabets,
Of which always reminds me of the old friend that I have yet to contact.
However, this doesn't stop us from being buddy,
And our relationship improves, slowly but surely.

To me...
She may have given me an awful first impression,
But sometimes I feel sympathetic for her.
Despite people always tease her, despise her,
She bears them no grudges.

To me...
She is like me in the past, people always brush her aside,
But I do believe, though, if we give her more time,
She will slowly start to change, start to realise,
Just like what I have been doing all the time.
Friends may be calling her nicknames,
Please be considerate, people, Hwoi Leng is her real name.

To me...
Four of them can be considered as my good friends,
Albeit each of them is a little bit atypical.
But remember, people,
Not all human are perfect.

To them...
I may be the same person;
To me...
I have become a better human.
To them...
This may be an ordinary poem;
But to me...
It's my gratitude to them!

Thanks to them,
My life is colourful!

What do you think about my poem? Do write a comment please.

A Book on a Shelf

What can I tell about myself?
Because I am just a book on a book shelf.
We were always told not to judge a book by its cover,
But I am just a book, without a cover.

I am a book filled with pictures of thousand moods:
Anger, happy, sad, pain, agony, bad and good.

There once was a fat boy,
His friends in secondary,
Taught him a thing about "football",
And so, he managed to slim down,
Tremendously,
Exaggeratedly.

Born on the 16th of September,
1989 was the year.
Born into a loving family,
Who always gives him the support he needs,
To swim against the tide;
To wade through obstructions;
To learn valuable lessons along the path of life;
Until he reaches his destination,

No one is perfect in the world,
As this is the reason why he never complain, even a word.
But sometimes he wishes he was more good looking,
But then again, he remembers someone told him to "count his blessings"

Shy have always been his greatest weakness,
'coz he always hide himself behind the others.
Because of this, he seldom talked to girls,
However, friends have made him more confidence.

So, no one is actually perfect in the world.
Man or woman, boy or girl.
Including even you,
And me, as a book, too.

But people change over time, one way or another,
So do I...


Because I have just found my "cover".

What do you think about my poem? Do write a comment please.

Blogger's Block...

Another week has passed since I last blogged. Nowadays, there's almost nothing to be blogged about. No new poems, no new stories... Although recently there have been a lot of things (especially gossips) happened in school, I am still having a hard time thinking of what to blog. Stuffs about how I accidentally drank someone else's water because I thought it was my bottle (they looked similar. No. THEY WERE IDENTICAL.) have been creeping my mind for a few weeks now. What's more? That person IS a girl. Jeez, this really "stirred up the hive". Friends keep spreading this and rumours about us as an item sparked before I could finish saying, "Dude, where's my bottle?" Then came another mortal blow. It's been a year since the incident occurred (I won't tell you what), but my friends (Yep, they again) still tease me. According to them, a simple act of giving can mean "a token of love". Boy, what the heck is this theory? Because of them, we both are so embarrassed that we can't even talk, or greet eye-to-eye. And if that's not enough, I am having writer's block. I can't even think of any poems to write now. Unlike the old time, I could write almost anything into poems. Most of my poems, if you observe them carefully, is based on life's experiences. Friends going away, farewell, friendships... But now, there seems to have nothing to be written about. Not that my life is dull, but there's just no more big events for me to write about. Although the number of distant-galaxies aliens visiting my blog is growing, it seems to be nothing to be proud or happy about. They may be visiting this blog with great eagerness, but even though I can't see their face, I know they feel disappointed after reading it. No more new stories, no more new poems, no more new "hitch hiker's guides to the galaxy"... Dude, I am having "blogger's block".