Skip to main content

Livejournal

You know, it's quite interesting to see how I'm intrigued by my own past blog entries in my livejournal. Those were the days where I used to put in the effort in posting pictures, sharing more song lyrics, daily conversations and shenanigans, funny videos, my favourite lines from my favourite movies and the interesting days I had. Gosh, is this part of growing up when I just stop trying to make things interesting anymore around here? Heh. Well, technically, if my mom hadn't told me that she was actually reading my livejournal, I would have stayed there. Hmm.

Found this! Like.

The Square Root of 3
by Kumar Patel

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Be, be your love

Just in Rachael Yamagata mood (: If I could take you away Pretend I was queen What would you say Would you think I'm unreal 'Cause everybody's got their way I should feel Everybody's talking how I, can't, can't be your love But I want, want, want to be your love Want to be your love, for real Everybody's talking how I, can't, can't be your love But I want, want, want to be your love Want to be your love for real Want to be your everything Everything... Everything's falling, and I am included in that Oh, how I try to be just okay Yeah, but all I ever really wanted Was a little piece of you Everything will be alright If you just stay the night Please, sir, don't you walk away, don't you walk away, don't you walk away Please, sir, don't you walk away, don't you walk away, don't you walk away And everybody's talking how I, can't, can't be your love But I want, want, want to be your love Want to be your love, for re...

Anything but ordinary

Sometimes I get so weird I even freak myself out I laugh myself to sleep it's my lullaby Sometimes I drive so fast Just to feel the danger I want to scream it makes me feel alive To walk within the lines Would make my life so boring I want to know that I have been to the extreme So knock me off my feet Come on now, give it to me Anything to make me feel alive Is it enough to love? Is it enough to breathe? Somebody rip my heart out And leave me here to bleed Is it enough to die? Somebody save my life I'd rather be anything but ordinary please I'd rather be anything but ordinary please Let down your defenses Use no common sense If you look, you will see That this world is a beautiful, accident Turbulent, succulent, opulent Permanent, no way I wanna taste it Don't wanna waste it away yeah, yeah Sometimes I get so weird I even freak myself out I laugh myself to sleep it's my lullaby I'd rather be anything but ordinary please

Hitam Manis

This is difficult to write, but it's definitely an important one amidst all the conversations we've been having lately. Growing up being brown/Malay wasn't easy, especially when it became ingrained in me that having a darker skin tone by default, is less desired than fairer skin tones. In childhood, I couldn't recall having to endure comments about my skin colour. Thankfully amongst children, these values ascribed to lightness and darkness didn't yet come to the fore. This consciousness became more obvious since secondary school. And it was tough and painful.  I've been in a sports CCA since secondary school and I couldn't really avoid not becoming tanned. What hurts the most was even my peers at that time would make comments about my skin colour without even realising the damage caused from these words. These comments I recall, were sometimes made under the guise of humour. I was called 'budak hitam' (literally means 'black child') and even ...