morte...

Is there any way to speed up the process? Look at Ol' Jacko, he left at fifty. Look at Teddy, he passed at 77. Bo Yibo at 98, Hrant Dink at 53, Maurice Papon at 96 and Boris Yeltsin at 76.

Why is it that only the good die young? Or perhaps...perhaps God doesn't need the aggravation. Need proof? Well, there were quite a number of musicians and entertainers who died before the age of 50 - Elvis Presley(42), John Lennon(40), Bruce Lee(32), Karen Carpenter(32), Jim Croce(30), Buddy Holly(22) and Stuart Sutcliffe(21).

Even Vincent Willem van Gogh who cut the lower part of his left ear lobe died at the age of 37.

Do I have to do some good in the world first to be granted death?

what is real anymore...

Walking down a long, dark, narrow street; the only sound one would hear would be that of boots sloshing in the rain and that of hooves clopping on sidewalks. This was the scene of the early nineteenth century.

It was a time when British still had mark IV tanks roaming about trenches and Germans used Albatros D.III biplanes - World War 1. It was also around this time that there were many accusations being thrown about others claiming that they were witches and vampires

As for the British mark IV and the biplanes...I can attest to that. The alleged sorcery and blood digestion, however, I might have to pass on that one.

That was life back then and civilization back then didn't have the expertise of the denizens that of the fabled island, Atlantis. So, in all respect, what is real and what is fantasy anymore? What is real and what do we think is real? Do we just put our faith in scientists or do we just follow God?

Now that we think about it, is there such a thing as god...or gods...as we all know, Ancient Greeks put their faith in multiple gods. There's the love torn cynic who believes in Aphrodite; the drunk who believes in Dionysus; the general who believes in Athena; the pauper who believes in Hades and there's also the Cullen family whose members believe in Zeus.

What do we believe? Do we go along with the scientists' views claiming that the earth was created based on the big bang theory or do we go along with the faith of the lord telling us that he created the earth we live on and along with it, the greenery that we're all cutting down just so we have something to write on? Do we also go along with the scientists' views claiming that humans evolved from a monkey or do we just accept faith and play along with the old saying that god created man on the sixth day?

As it seems, it's harder to distinguish right from wrong and fact from fiction these days...what with modern technology, CG, special effects and what-nots. But, is it possible to discern the truth anymore?

english project synopsis...

"Kidnapped tells the story of David Balfour, a young man of the Lowlands, the southern part of Scotland. David's father, Alexander Balfour, has recently died, and his mother died some time before, so he is now an orphan. Since he is now seventeen years old, he has decided it is time to go and seek his fortune. Before he leaves for the city of Edinburgh, he meets with his guardian, Mr. Campbell. Campbell reveals that David has an uncle, Ebenezer Balfour, of the House of Shaws—meaning that David is, to his surprise, from a wealthy family. David decides to go to Cramond, where his uncle lives, and meet his wealthy relatives.

David walks two days to Edinburgh, and soon finds his way to Cramond. As he begins to ask about the House of Shaws, he finds it is an unpopular place. His Uncle Ebenezer seems particularly ill regarded by the community, and is in fact the only occupant of the house. Nevertheless, David continues on to the House of Shaws. Ebenezer gives him a cold welcome, and seems very interested in the death of David's father. Ebenezer treats David badly, almost as if David were a thief, but he wins some of David's respect by giving the lad nearly forty pounds. But when Ebenezer nearly sends David to his death in the tower adjacent to the house, David demands to know why his uncle hates him and, if he does, why he wants him to stay at the House of Shaws.

A cabin boy, Ransome, arrives at the House of Shaws. He has been sent by Captain Hoseason of the Covenant, a ship that deals with some of Ebenezer's financial ventures. Hoseason has requested to see Ebenezer, so the old man decides to go to the port of Queensferry with Ransome and David. David is interested in seeing the ships at the port, so he willingly goes along. At first, Hoseason seems very pleasant. He even warns David that Ebenezer means mischief toward him. Hoseason then asks to speak to David on the boat, and David agrees, being interested in seeing more of the boat. Once he is on, however, the boat swiftly departs, and as he screams at the dock for help, the sailors knock David unconscious.

He awakes in the dark storage deck of the Covenant. As he drifts in and out of sleep, he quickly becomes ill, and soon he is lingering near death. The ship's mate, Riach, demands that the boy be allowed to sleep in the healthier forecastle of the ship with the other sailors. Hoseason reluctantly agrees, and as David recovers he becomes friends with Riach and a few of the other sailors. Then, Ransome is accidentally killed by Mr. Shuan, and David becomes the new cabin boy.

After a few days at this new job, the Covenant strikes and sinks another boat. One man survives, a strange Highland man dressed in the clothing of a French soldier. The stranger tells the captain that he is carrying the rent money for his disenfranchised chieftain. The two men make an agreement that Hoseason will drop the stranger off in Linnhe Loch, but no sooner is the captain gone from the Round-House—the officers' lounge where the visiting stranger is kept—when David overhears the officers plotting to murder the stranger and take his belt. David tells this to the stranger, and agrees to fight by his side. The stranger says his name is Alan Breck Stewart. Alan and David successfully defend the Round-House from the sailors, Alan killing several men and even David taking two himself. Alan, impressed with David's courage, gives David a silver button from his coat. The captain and Alan negotiate, and the captain agrees to drop Alan and David off near Linnhe Loch.

On the way, however, the ship strikes the Torran Rocks and goes down. David escapes and finds himself on an island. The island is separated from a larger main island only by a river, but he can find no way to cross the river. After a few days, a fisherman comes in a boat and reveals to him that the river gets very low at high tide, and David crosses easily.

David then stays at a house, and discovers that Alan himself passed through, having survived the wreck. Alan left instructions that David should follow him to Torosay, and from there go to Alan's homeland of Appin. David heads this way, meeting several disreputable people along the way, including a notorious blind robber; but the young man manages to avoid any great dangers. He meets a pleasant old religious instructor, Henderland, who helps David secure a boat to take him to Appin.

As soon as David arrives in Appin, he comes across a group of four men on horseback. One of the men is Colin Campbell, the King's Regent for that area, whose clan, the Campbells, are hated by Alan and his Stewart clan. As David speaks with Campbell, he is suddenly shot and killed by an unknown assailant. One of the people in Campbell's party accuses David of distracting Campbell so that he could be shot, and just as soldiers are about to apprehend David he is pulled away by Alan, who has been fishing nearby.

Alan and David, now major suspects in the murder, flee to the woods. Alan swears he had nothing to do with the murder, but he must now draw attention away from the real killer. David believes Alan, and they escape to the home of James Stewart, or James of the Glens. James gives them a change of clothes and some little money, but he tells them that he will have to blame them for the murder and put our warrants for their arrest once they are safely gone, so that he will not be blamed for the murder. If James is killed, it will mean great difficulties for the Stewart clan. David and Alan agree to be the scapegoats, and Alan and David are soon fleeing through the wilderness once more.

They hide for a whole day on top of a large rock while English soldiers roam around below, searching for them. They escape and go to a mountain where they rest for several days and send word to James, hoping to get a little more money so that Alan can escape to France. The messenger returns with a note from James' wife; James has been arrested for the murder. She also sends a little more money for David and Alan.

The two continue on their flight, soon reaching the broad, flat region known as the moors. They take some time out to rest, but David oversleeps on his watch, and a troop of English soldiers nearly takes them by surprise. They must run through the wide, flat land on their hands and knees, hiding in small brush and behind rocks. They manage to escape and are ambushed by Highland men who, fortunately, turn out to be men of Cluny Macpherson, another disenfranchised Highland leader. Cluny takes them in his hideout in the mountain of Ben Alder, and while David sleeps for nearly three days, Alan and Cluny play cards. Alan gambles away all their money, including David's. Cluny agrees to give them their money back, plus more, but Cluny is mortified that they thought he would keep the money, David is angry that Alan gambled it away and he has to swallow his pride and ask for it back, and Alan feels guilty for having gambled it all away.

Alan and David continue on their journey toward the Lowlands, but David is now angry and bitter toward Alan. Alan feels remorseful for some time, but when David refuses to warm up at all, Alan thinks that he has personally suffered enough, and soon becomes his usual happy self, taunting David for being a Whig. Alan is a Jacobite, someone who believed the Stuarts, a Highland clan, should be on the throne, whereas Whigs were supporters of the current English monarchy, following the line of William and Mary. David's patience wears thin, and he viciously attacks Alan's honor. Realizing he cannot be forgiven for what he said, David pretends that he is about to die of exhaustion, and Alan becomes very worried and takes David to a house.

Over the course of a month, David recovers. There is some brief trouble when Alan meets Robin Oig, one of the sons of the well-known Highlander Rob Roy Macgregor, who was also a Campbell. But instead of using guns, they duel by playing the bagpipes, and the two men quickly respect one another and a crisis is averted.

David and Alan finally move on and, after some difficulties, reach Queensferry once more. They cross over and David meets with his family's lawyer, Mr. Rankeillor. Rankeillor believes his story, but David's uncle Ebenezer must be dealt with somehow. It turns out that Ebenezer and David's father had had a dispute over a woman, David's mother. They had finally come to an agreement—David's father married his mother, and Ebenezer took the estate and the Balfour fortune, although he was not the elder brother. Rankeillor says the agreement is not legally binding, and that David is the true heir of the estate. But David does not want the House of Shaws, just a pension from its yearly earnings.

To rectify the situation, David plays a trick on Ebenezer. Rankeillor, David, and Alan go to the House of Shaws. Alan walks up to the door alone, and pretends that he is from a bunch of Highlanders who found David alive shortly after the shipwreck on the Torran Rocks. He asks for money to return to the boy, but Ebenezer refuses to pay anything. Alan then says that they'll kill him unless Ebenezer pays to have him kept alive. Ebenezer does not want the boy dead, and as he haggles over how much he will pay he admits that the plan had been for Hoseason to sell the boy into slavery in the Carolinas. At that point, David and Rankeillor reveal themselves, having caught Ebenezer in the confession. Ebenezer and Rankeillor then work out an agreement that David would get two-thirds of the yearly income of the House of Shaws.

David receives a note from Rankeillor that will allow him to collect his money. David then speaks to Alan, and arranges to send him money so that Alan can get passage to France. The two men part, and David wanders into town to claim his fortune."

the above is a synopsis, not of my own doing, but rather that of the kind folks at http://www.sparknotes.com

incoherent rambling...

Several years ago, someone asked me - "What's life? What's worth fighting for anymore"? These days, I share the exact same sentiments of those before me as my predecessors have many years before and stared down the same exact long and winding route they called 'life'.

What am I really fighting for anymore? Was it the same thing I fought for when I started this arduous and lonesome solitary journey? Now, I find myself thinking of why I even started out on this journey anyway...I just feel like resigning to my fate and let Grim take me with him.

Just the other day, I was torn between being who I really am - a normal student of an extraordinary school; carrying out the duties of a prefect and honouring the request of a teacher...the third of which being my priority and also the one that got me scolded, reprimanded, shouted at and screamed at. Permit me now the honour of putting forth a question - Is all this even minutely worth fighting for?

All that I've strived for, all that I believed in...all denounced by one, apparently, misjudged decision - a flaw in judgement, if you may.

Was I supposed to say then, "NO! I WON'T HELP YOU sir/madam, because I am a prefect and prefect duty is MORE IMPORTANT than a mere teacher and his/her request for assistance"?

If that is the case and being a prefect does indeed make a person MORE important than a teacher in position, influence and power, then why is it that we(prefects) still have to respect them and avail ourselves to them? WHY, then, do we still have to help them arrange chairs during morning assembly? WHY, then, do we still have to greet them the moment we see them? WHY, then, do we STILL have to HELP TEACHERS distribute morning exercise sheets to students?

If being a prefect is indeed that BLOODY GREAT, why is it that the teachers aren't the ones offering us assistance and us, prefects, demanding that they(teachers) serve on our every whim and fancy!?

Do forgive me for my incessant and somewhat incoherent rambling, but I was, as you may know, shouted at, screamed at, reprimanded and scolded for...what else? HELPING A TEACHER...HONOURING A TEACHER'S REQUEST...

So, again, pardon me for being irate and somewhat disgruntled. Is it even worth it? I ask you, is it even minutely BLOODY WORTH it?

death...

Death, not the most pleasant sight, nor is it the most blissful sensation - to family members. However, one thing is certain - it sure feels...liberating.

Nothing in this world can be ensured. Take for instance the man in the above picture; he's dead...whether or not he wanted it.

One thing, however, is certain and that is the fact that many people the world over will come together in merry and jubilant euphoria if I died.

When talking of death, one might feel apprehensive...even scared. However, I find myself felling calm and still quite sane.

Let's face it, I'm used to a life of solitude and exile. Death is just a release from this...cask.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"

The poet of the above masterpiece, sadly, died five years after it was written. The persona lost his wife and longs for her. In all respect, he would go as far as to take his own life just to be able to be with her again...welcoming death with open arms and waiting for seraphim to take him upon his wings.

I likewise, safe for a wife and beautiful literary panache, am just waiting for Grim to come knocking on my door...like I have many times before.

let it be...

Woke up today feeling greatly weakened and somewhat irritable. Forced myself to school and kept my eyes open for the duration of which I was there. Took a few pictures...and got reprimanded for that too. Came back from school during BM(Razak's not too happy).

The Lord is my shepherd I shall not be in want;
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters;
He restores my soul. he guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil for you are with me;
Your rod and staff they comfort me;

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. you anoint my head with oil;
My cup overflows;
Surely goodnes and love will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Oh did I mention there was a party in 4 science 1 today(if you hurry, you might get some leftovers) all due to the reason that I am sick and dying...not reason enough for you to celebrate?

not my week...

Wednesday's here, I'm already dreading the rest of this week and the irony of which is - this week isn't even four fifths over.

Let's take a stroll back through time...back to the 31st of July - Friday. Right after song dedications were adjourned to a later point, somewhere this week, I felt a hint of that unending dryness one might feel when faced with an impending and inevitable sore throat on the rise. What made it worse was that I had overestimated my vocal abilities during RP practice that very day and, hence incurred the wrath of a full-fledged sore throat. By Monday, it was rearing its ugly head.

Heck, I'll be the first to admit that I've done silly things in the past, but none could compare to playing football during Monday PE lessons with a burning sore throat to boot! OH! Here's a little side note for you, along with my sore throat, my arsenal and repertoire of ailments don't end there. I also have(still am) muscle aches, dizziness, lethargy, fever(although a little subsided now), spontaneous nausea attacks and did I mention that I also have a raging sore throat? The only thing differentiating me from a pregnant woman is that I don't have sudden cravings for chilly crabs or parfaits.

Basically, Monday was the worst...Tuesday and today weren't too bad maybe 'cept for the occasional coughing out of a lung, wheezing of an old geezer and flaring of temper from the same old man who coughed out a lung, wheezing and to top it off, forgot to take his meds that morning.

Do forgive my incessant ranting on about my poor health...can't hold a grudge against a dying man of age 61 now can you? Gee, there's gonna be PE lesson tomorrow and they'll be playing football...now, where did I put my walking stick...