Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Blogmarathon Day Two -- Words
They say i started reading earlier than my peers. I don't remember that, i was reminded. So you don't have to believe that. For all you know, i was just muttering some Timbuktuan words i picked up in Sesame Street. No don't believe that either. And they say my first reading material was a newspaper. Lianhe Wanbao! Pow wow wow.
No i don't remember all that. I have a screwed-up long-term memory. My short-term memory is no better either. Wait, what was i talking about? :p
However, i do remember my first storybook -- an Enid Blyton's. It was a paperback and probably only fifty pages long. Maybe longer, i don't know, don't trust my counting abilities (i need to count and re-count my sheep before i can fall asleep). The cover page is of a scene at a beach and there were these two kids on a pony... yeah, pony at a beach. Come to think of it, maybe there were rabbits and tigers there too. Okay that's all i remember. My first storybook.
With that book, i began my obsession with words. Nobody paints a better picture than Mr Word. Shoo, Picasso. Shoo, Einsten. No fara, Einstein's a SIGN-tist.
The only thing i looked forward to in primary school was essay writing. They call it Composition back then, just like Penmanship was actually intended to make you a walking typewriter and has absolutely nothing to do with a man and his pen on a ship, so a Composition was actually designed with the idea that kids will be so absorbed into telling their stories of aliens and strawberry friends on paper (and trying to juggle with their Penmanship at the same time) that they will actually keep quiet and remain erm composed for at least 30 minutes. 30 minutes of heaven for the form teacher. Sneaky things, those teachers.
But it's not working lor. I get excited when i see a pencil and a blank piece of paper. If i could eat them, i would. If i could marry them, i would. If i could marry two of them, even better. I'd choose the words Hot and Guy. So if i were to marry them, i'd be Mrs Hot Guy. No that sounds Brokeback. Eeiieerr.
But then again, i tend to get drunk on words. Which is bad. Like right now. I'm digressing and digressing and my memory's not helping either, i don't remember what topic i'm working on today.
Okay a thought just passed me by. Okay it's gone now. Alright i remembered something. When i was too old to be forgiven for writing on walls, i did something really bad. I wrote things on the walls in the living room because i was mad with my mother and i wanted to spite her. But being a coward, i only wrote seven words. And only on the skirting board. And then immediately after, i grabbed my eraser and tried to rub them all away.
Have i reached 500-words already? I have to go now.. the mom's threatening to drag me into the bathroom. She says it's not good to shower late at night. But i tell her it's better to shower late at night than not to shower at all. She says don't be stubborn. I am mad right now. I think i'm going to write on her wall again.
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fara // 22:25
Blogmarathon Day Two -- Words
They say i started reading earlier than my peers. I don't remember that, i was reminded. So you don't have to believe that. For all you know, i was just muttering some Timbuktuan words i picked up in Sesame Street. No don't believe that either. And they say my first reading material was a newspaper. Lianhe Wanbao! Pow wow wow.
No i don't remember all that. I have a screwed-up long-term memory. My short-term memory is no better either. Wait, what was i talking about? :p
However, i do remember my first storybook -- an Enid Blyton's. It was a paperback and probably only fifty pages long. Maybe longer, i don't know, don't trust my counting abilities (i need to count and re-count my sheep before i can fall asleep). The cover page is of a scene at a beach and there were these two kids on a pony... yeah, pony at a beach. Come to think of it, maybe there were rabbits and tigers there too. Okay that's all i remember. My first storybook.
With that book, i began my obsession with words. Nobody paints a better picture than Mr Word. Shoo, Picasso. Shoo, Einsten. No fara, Einstein's a SIGN-tist.
The only thing i looked forward to in primary school was essay writing. They call it Composition back then, just like Penmanship was actually intended to make you a walking typewriter and has absolutely nothing to do with a man and his pen on a ship, so a Composition was actually designed with the idea that kids will be so absorbed into telling their stories of aliens and strawberry friends on paper (and trying to juggle with their Penmanship at the same time) that they will actually keep quiet and remain erm composed for at least 30 minutes. 30 minutes of heaven for the form teacher. Sneaky things, those teachers.
But it's not working lor. I get excited when i see a pencil and a blank piece of paper. If i could eat them, i would. If i could marry them, i would. If i could marry two of them, even better. I'd choose the words Hot and Guy. So if i were to marry them, i'd be Mrs Hot Guy. No that sounds Brokeback. Eeiieerr.
But then again, i tend to get drunk on words. Which is bad. Like right now. I'm digressing and digressing and my memory's not helping either, i don't remember what topic i'm working on today.
Okay a thought just passed me by. Okay it's gone now. Alright i remembered something. When i was too old to be forgiven for writing on walls, i did something really bad. I wrote things on the walls in the living room because i was mad with my mother and i wanted to spite her. But being a coward, i only wrote seven words. And only on the skirting board. And then immediately after, i grabbed my eraser and tried to rub them all away.
Have i reached 500-words already? I have to go now.. the mom's threatening to drag me into the bathroom. She says it's not good to shower late at night. But i tell her it's better to shower late at night than not to shower at all. She says don't be stubborn. I am mad right now. I think i'm going to write on her wall again.
fara // 22:25
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