In the process of waiting

Actually, I should just call this post waiting. They mean the same thing, don't they?

But In the process of waiting sounds more cheem. Yup, cheemness is good.

I am now looking forward to my trip back to Taiwan. Now that WEP is almost over, the very difficult letter that will probably cause lots of embarrassment is written, the suitcases are packed, there is only my trip left.

(That was a super awkward sounding sentence that we will ignore, won't we?)

Forgive me if I sound weird, I always sound weird and slightly hyper when it is late at night and I lack sleep. I should probably sleep soon. Later. When I finish blogging this post.

Anyway, Father came yesterday and brought with him a PC and a monitor. Yes, an entire computer. Which my brother attempted to assemble just now but ended up causing a blackout. And spoiling the computer. Now it refuses to start.

Something to do with voltage difference and adaptors.

So. now, in the process of waiting. Before I sleep and before I board an airplane. (In that order, not the other way round)

In between, I shall try to finish the books I borrowed from the library. Because, seriously, I cannot stuff 8 books in my suitcase. (These include thrillers by Stephen Leather, fantasy by Susan Cooper and a non-fiction book about Organised Crimes. Oh, and Ballistic.)The space is needed for my IH and IM2 notes. Yucky stuff.

And my stories. Postponed indefinitely(it's more like infinitely). Plus I am writing two at once. Yes, irresponsible me who abandons stories.

My sentence is getting weirder and weirder. I really should sleep. Now.

Perhaps after I checked my phone.

The Greedy Ones(Monika)

They were falling apart.

Funny that this insight came from an eight years old girl.

Monika wished that Charlotte was here, so that she could tell her this realization. Charlotte would laugh, for sure, and somehow it would make this seem less intimidating, more bearable.

Right now, there was nothing remotely funny about this thought.

Falling apart-this little gathering of two ghosts, a moody teenage boy, a drug lord and a young girl.

The gang, as her father so aptly named it. A gang of murderers and criminals.

Falling apart not as a result of quarrel, rather, it was about the conflict of interests. The gang, working together, had led to the compromise of its members' own principles. Working together had been a bad idea from the start. She knew that, always did, but of course no one listened to her.

Marcus was mostly concerned about wealth, power and his reputation. Sarah, with her violent but quiet threats, only wanted to keep her son safe. Charlotte wanted her old life back. Or at least some imitation, an echo, of it. She was not sure if Daniel knew what he wanted, or if he even wanted anything. He was always aimless and distracted.

How clear their motives seemed to Monika. Perhaps only because she was detached enough from the situation. Everyone seemed to forget her presence, and in the midst of action, she was always shoved aside. For her protection, they claimed, like she was a fragile porcelain doll.

Perfect, innocent, something to be displayed and admired.

Could they not see, when they looked into her eyes, that she stopped being naive a long time ago? Were they blind to the emptiness in her, the absence of any remorse or pity, when she pointed the gun at Daniel and prepared to pull the trigger?

Or, as she suspected, they choose to deceive themselves. Pretend that she could still be a child.

Ridiculous.

What did she want, then?

Many things. To belong, to be safe, to be loved, to keep the gang together, to avenge her brothers deaths. She was wanting too much. She was too greedy.

The greedy ones, she recalled, that she had read about in stories, always ended up with nothing.

Like the farmer who had sliced open the goose that could lay golden eggs, finding a tragic, terrible world of scarlet.

And nothing else. Nothing but the warm blood coating his hands, the still-beating heart, the overpowering smell of death.

Her descriptions were getting...

She knew who was responsible for that.

Father should have killed Daniel, and proceeded to kill Charlotte's parents, she thought savagely. They could have had revenge then

With a scowl that was rarely seen on her face, Monika snapped her book shut.

The Replacement(Charlotte)

Am just going to shut up about comments( or the lack of them) for once.

It was unbelievably easy.

Pale-bluish green eyes, the colour of a lake, frozen, of a drowned person trapped beneath ice. Hair like mud in the middle of the jungle, and not mahogany, as he vainly said. (His reaction to that was even funnier.)

Sometimes she would look at him and see his son instead.

Gone, Cecil was, like a drop of blood dissolved in water.

Torn apart by bullets, decapitated, bruised and swollen face frozen in one last scream.

Silent.

Her own screams were not silent,though, they sliced through the night as she fled, but there was no one to hear. No one except Marcus and those armed men.

Then everything was gone.

But there he would be, staring at her, or smiling at her. Now that was rare.

And of course she had to try, because Marcus really believed that smiling more often would kill him. (and because it was so fun!)

He was so alike his son

The resemblance was unsettling.

That was sort of the point, actually. Pretending that Cecil was still alive.

Everything about him reminded her of Cecil.

Alright, maybe Marcus was a little bit more cruel.

But basically they were the same. (That was what mattered, wasn't it? Wasn't it?)

Unbelievably easy.

Too easy, almost.

Sometimes she could not( perhaps, only perhaps, she did not want to) tell the difference.

Summary of reading plan

Exam is finally finally over.

Today was the HMP paper that M E said would be "very very hard". RX was the one who asked.

I wish she didn't.It is better not to know some things.

I spent the whole of yesterday studying for maths, until 12 plus, and it turned out to be easy.

HMP, which I decided to procrastinate, turned out to be difficult.

Oh, and I got a headache too.

Let's think about more positive stuff, shall we?

Like how I have 5 chinese books waiting for me in my bag. Ok, that's not very inspiring, since they were all forced on me.

Positive stuff...the books on organised crimes I borrowed from the school library.(Told you they have every kind of books)

Plus the final destination 2 vcd I borrowed.(They have every kind of vcds too. But really, having FD in a school library is a bit creepy, right?)

I also borrowed 5 books from the NLB. A wide variety of books, ranging from Smuggler and WWI to Terrorists and...well...children fiction.

I think I have too many books to read.

A bit too late, I think

WHY WHY WHY is it so hard to find an accompanist? And you know what is the worst thing? Is that you cannot blame anyone. No one to direct your anger at, to murder in your imagination, and to strangle(in you head, of course) during boring classes.

Ugh.

Because I was stupid enough to choose violin as 1st instrument and ensemble playing as 2nd.

Which means I have to find three sets of accompanist. One for my first piece, one for my second piece and THREE for my ensemble piece. Every person I asked is complaining how hard the accompaniment parts are. Or rejecting me.

I have been running up and down the school every recess, going to library, photocopy shop, music rooms, sec 1-3 classes etc.

I want to have my sandwiches in peace.

I want to learn piano.

And the exams, THE EXAMS are coming. But I cannot stop writing when I am supposed to be studying.I am like the last person to start studying (YET to start). Even the girl beside me is studying.

Am I going to fail?

Not going to think about that.

Interlude(Marcus)

Yup, the newest installment of my incomprehensible story. In which Marcus reflects on some...things in his study. And getting nowhere. You don't have to comment if you are not reading this, which means I will get no comments at all. As always.



Did he love her?




Marcus frowned and stopped studying the map on his table.




Surely love was too strong a word. He had never been one for sentiments, and purposely avoided any feelings too extreme or overwhelming. Feelings were nothing but a distraction, and most often than not, they made business turn ...messy.





To be honest, he did care for the existence of the teenaged ghost. He would feel a sense of lost if Charlotte were to disappear one day.




How exactly?





Not as if she could die, although sometimes he wished the opposite. Also, Sarah and Charlotte would never leave him if they wanted Daniel to remain alive.It was an unwritten agreement between them.





He often congratulated himself of having Daniel as such useful leverage.





Yes, he would be quite distressed if Charlotte suddenly stopped working for him. It would be quite disastrous for his flourishing enterprise too. She was the perfect assassin, spy, enforcer and bodyguard. Therefore, the grief of losing her would be more like mourning for his lost of profits.





It was always about profits and gains.





Then, as he remembered the incident that occurred just now, he scowled.(no one was watching anyway)

Charlotte was occasionally amusing, but the fact remained that she was insolent, childish and generally unbearable.

Sometimes her sense of humour was a little too macabre, even for him.

Was she intelligent?

Yes, but her intelligence was mostly wasted on irritating him and making a nuisance out of herself.

She just had to use every opportunity to remind him that he killed her.

Tiring, to tell the truth. Was it his fault that Charlotte happened to be intoxicated, suicidal and just a little too trigger happy in face of pressure?

No logic in her accusation at all.

As much as he cared for her existence(and the cooperation between them), he would not hesitate to kill her if required.

Like how he killed his wife,mistress and everyone who tried to double-cross him.

Of course, this statement was only meant to point out where he stands. The actual process of killing a ghost he had yet to figure out.

Marcus started to drum his fingers against the mahogany desk. The blueprint of a rival drug dealer's apartment lay forgotten at one side. He frowned again as another thought occurred to him.

Not too disturbing, the thought. Only a fact he had always known. Just not viewed this way.

He loved Monika, did he not? And he had loved Christopher.(he was good at blocking another son's name from his mind) Or at least cared for them with as much affections that he was capable of.

Yet, he would kill them himself if they ever threatened him.

Well, it was necessary. Logic came before all sentiments and feelings.

So if he would have no qualms about killing those he loved, this brought him back to...

Did he love her?

Things that Daniel could never do

Hiding in the shadow


Hi! I am back! Today is my last day at the boarding school. The last two weeks has been super fun. As in, super super fun. I get to wake up at 6.30 everyday, go out to borders and 7-eleven regularly, play monopoly or watch movie (lord of the rings!) with my roomates. WJ and I even went to chicken and took lots of photos. Oh yeah, WJ has a serious obssesion with photos, dragging HH and I to the gardens,sofas etc. to take photos. She is also very fond of taking unglam photos of other people. Like me doing a handstand on the bed and swallowing water at the same time. (Hey, my bio teacher gave me the idea) But now they are gone:(



And I get to sleep in an empty room tonight. Lonely, and a bit scary. I will be leaving at two tomorrow.


And here is part two of my little character sketch. About you know who. It is as confusing as ever (plus more depressing) , unless you actually read the story. Then again, the story is inside my head. So...do what you can.

Things that Daniel could never do

Charlotte.

He could never say her name the way Marcus do.

With the lightest trace of an unknown accent, every nuance exquisitely pronounced, making it richly-textured and delicate at the same time.

Charlotte.

And her nickname-Char, though it was meant to be insulting(short for shut up), Marcus managed to say it just right.

A perfect balance of fondness and frustration.

It sounded...

Close and personal and special, whispered a sinister voice inside Daniel's head.

For him, Charlotte came out as just Charlotte. Plain and common, no matter how hard he tried. And he really really tried.

He could never make her smile the way Marcus do.

She did smile with him though, at the desperate, flimsy jokes he made, at situations that no one found funny at all.

But the smile she gave Marcus, it was resonating, beautiful, real, none of her usual bitterness.

Pure brilliance.

Yet Marcus managed to accomplish such a feat effortlessly.

Charlotte smiled at every sign of amusement he gave towards her cynical attitude, be it a roll of his eyes, a scowl, or a twitch of his lips.

The rare, precious smile made her seem alive, so very vulnerable and fragile(looks were deceiving). It made the fact that she was dead more painful than ever. (Brains splattered against the wall a gaping hole in her head)

But then he could never bring her back to life, could he?

He could never understand the relationship between Charlotte and Marcus.

No, it was not love, or attraction, not even remotely like freindship.

He should be thankful, shouldn't he?

But there was not supposed to be anything between them, except hatred and vegenance.

Marcus killed her( yes he did, no matter how strong his denial) and in turn, she killed both his sons.

Perfect revenge.

And whatever that was between them( subtle, undefinable but so very significant), it was not revenge. Neither Charlotte nor Marcus was aware of that, but it did not matter. What mattered was that the relationship existed.

It disturbed him to watch sometimes. To watch her mock her murderer on purpose, just for a tiny sign of amusement. And to watch her smile, all its sun-like, blinding brilliance.

No, he was not being jealous, or frightened, or bitter. Not the least bit upset.

He was just wondering.

Really.

Ha, Daniel is sulking. And being quite depressed. As I said, torturing characters are fun.

The picture of the frozen lake is pretty, right? And nope, of course I did not take that. I have not even seen a frozen lake before, as much as I wish to.

Back to subject. I am depressed today. Because of the (insert your word of choice) thing staring with S and ending with F. I wish I can be like RX, you know, "I don't care if he kicks me out. Like i even want to play."

Sigh.

Before panicking...

Boarding school stay approved! Yay! Am rooming with HH and WJ. Boarding school is fun, you get to sleep late, go library everyday and there is also the prep time. So cool right? My friends obviously don't think so, cos I am like one of the few NYSE member staying there. I wish Anne, Sarah, or even RX can stay in the boarding school... Sad. Even sader that we can only stay there for two weeks. But the good thing is that I will be the last to check out in my room. So for two days, I have the room to myself! Hmm...maybe it's more of scary thing. Now that the exams are almost over. Still have LA, Chem and HMP exams left. LA is tomorrow, and I had just spent the afternoon reading Julius Ceasar.

In the desert (random poem I found online)

In the desert,
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hand,
And ate of it.
I said,"Is it good, my friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter", he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

Reasons why Charlotte and Marcus should end up together

Not going to explain who they are.

If you don't know, good, that means that you haven't been bombarded with my lame, twisted and weird ideas. Yet.

Hmm...who knows? If I am in a good mood, I might enlighten you. (Ok, scratch that. Too zi lian)

So I shall plunge straight to the topic without any lenghty, crappy intro. Aren't you relieved?

1. Marcus is a mafia boss. (enough said)

2. He killed Charlotte.

3. And Charlotte killed his son. (Come to think of it, she killed his sons)

4. They hate each other. Which is an obvious result of the two abovementioned points.

5. They should end up together because they cannot end up together. I love complexity:)

6. And I get to torture the people around them by making them end up together.

7. Although Charlotte drives Marcus crazy, he cannot kill her (like how he killed his wife/mistress/girlfriends) as she is already dead.

8. Because Charlotte don't really like him. To her, he just looks very much like his son (whom she loved) and is a perfect...replacement. Actually, this sounds less sadistic inside my head. Typing it out is just...

9. She can kill him any moment. Throughout the story she constantly asks herself why does she not snap his neck at that very second. Yet she continues to help him with his...well...entreprise. That makes sense, doesn't it?

10. Because I said so.

As you have probably guessed by now, Marcus is a drug lord/mafia boss/cold-blooded murderer, who happens to be the father of Charlotte's boyfriend.

And nope, age difference don't really count. Seeing that Charlotte is now a ghost, she is basically immortal.

As in, unable to rest in peace, doomed to roam the world restlessly kind of immortal. Not the twilight , perfect, sparkling and loving vampires kind of immortal

Enough of why they should end up together.

I should start worrying about how do they (or how can they) end up together.

Late

Now it's super late. I woke up early today(Jerilyn's fault) and I am supposed to sleep now. Fine, I will sleep after this post. As you know, this is the first post of 2011.
For this year I was very very stresseed. All the SIAs started coming in already and all due on term 2. Stupid right? What are we supposed to do during term 3 then? And let me tell you, taking HMP, 3 lang and BSP together is no joke. Stress does not begin to describe it.

Like during HMP, M E asked who is still continuing 3 lang. I was like, deciding whether to duck under the table or raise up my hand. In the end I raised up my hand slowly(and painfully) I can feel everyone staring at me.

Ouch. Why was I so mad? I should have quitted like all of my friends. Seriously...

Listening to Cold by Static X right now. Quite nice, actually.

Random, I know.
Must be the lack of sleep.