We gotta MOHEET MOHEET

We're playing Angels and Mortals with our senior class, and I got a message from my Angel! It seems like a girl from the handwriting, and she's very smiley, so it's all good! She posed alot of questions, and...I'll address it here :).

What CCA?
I'm in ACSian Theatre! And I'm a dancer cum actor for West Side Story, so do look out for me. If you need any Edusave forms, I have a few, so, if you need 'em...you know who to look for. I'm also a writer in Line-in, and I'll be covering "Night of Laughter". What I submitted to Line-in was a post of mine, I thought to be a classic. I'm not sure how good it is though, I've this sneaking suspicion that they admitted anybody who sent in entries -.-.

Are you Chinese or Malay?
Neither. I'm Filipino! These are Filipinos!


What Secondary School?
Though my uniform bears the word "Quest", I'm not from Quest Secondary School (it doesn't exist, lol). I'm from Queenstown Secondary School, near Redhill MRT.

And about us having fun in 1SB2...haha! Just check this out! Just FYI, we were waiting for a teacher at this time, and already had someone looking for her. We're not bad boys...yet :\. He gotta MOHEET MOHEET! Moheet's dancing to High School Musical's "We're All In This Together". Audio's bad, but I was using my phone, so meh.



And as for the lack of girls...You're right. I've been able to meet many in Theatre, from my OG, from my Lectures, and even some whose connection to me, I don't know.

I've found the girl of my life though, so yeah :).

Thanks for the message, Angel, and I'm looking forward to SJI come this or next Saturday.

See you all, and lets hold hands and move on to tomorrow.

1SB2

Seniors complained that my class doesn't blog.

They blog-searched 1SB2, and came up with nothing. Sial, I just realised I haven't mentioned what class I'm in yet.

It's 1SB2 people...1SB2!

Chao then. I've got tutorials to plough through.

There's nothing in this world I can't do.

Like I said, yesterday was a long day, and with long days come long posts! Hooray for lots of texts! Weight a minute! There are peek-chas too! Yayness...LEVEL 1000000!!!!!!!

I woke up at Eight, ate a hearty breakfast of Burger King, and proceeded to school for drama. I'm starting to enjoy drama more and more. The J2s are a fun bunch, and even though there's only a few J1s, we get along pretty well; and this despite the fact that I'm the only one not in DEP. I'm tempted to join in after the first three months, but I'll see where The Oracle dictates me to go.

We did the blocking of a few scenes here and there; one slight irritance I'm having is that my lines (the little lines I have) are slowly being given to somebody else. But I'll go along for now; I'm a novice at acting. I'll learn the ropes along the way. My fight scene is starting to hurt me more and more. My left knee and leg are down-right fucked up. I have to collapse on them when somebody punches me. I'm supposed to have control, but when you're trying to act naturally (oxymoron!), there's very little control involved.

So ouch.

Went for lunch with a few J1s and J2s at some hawker centre at Dover. To the left is Raymus; the Guilty Gear king, and to the right is Nicholas, who is also known, amongst other things, as Isaac, Aaron and Michael. They're gay for each other. They're in drama; what do you expect? :)


Took the 166 to Delise's place to crash there for abit and get some studying down. I'm happy when I'm with her. Enough said.

At the strike of 6, I found myself at Kallang. As a matter of fact, literally thousands of other people found themselves at Kallang. The Singapore-Malaysia match was going DOWN at the Singapore Staduium! The match was at 8, but Hari told me explicitly that he would skin me alive if I was late. I'm too awesome to be skinned.

The rest were already there; Ambrish, Naveen, Hari and his twin, Vishnu, and Vishnu's pal. We walked, along with gajillions to the Stadium, reaching there at around 6:30. And it was this crowded.


Rain threatened up above, but amazingly, it didn't really pour. They were giving away free posters, but they ended up being used as umbrellas; C'mon lah...that's just inconsiderate. You should use a flag...like Naveen.

Turned around, dude!


I said, TURN THE HELL AROUND!


Ahh...finally.


After waiting for a pretty darn long time, Vanessa too, came along. Glad to finally have a thorn among the flowers! But, I don't meant this in any racist way, she was one of the few Chinese around! It's like...Malay and Indian families go to these matches as a family thing! Not trying to imply anything: It's just an observation. I'm not colour-blind.

We got seats at the stadium minutes before the match. I have watched few WHOLE matches at home, yet there I was, watching A WHOLE MATCH in a STADIUM, with the CROWD, and with no commentary -.-".


You see that ugly yellow patch over there? Those are the blardi Malaysians are like a freaking stain of mustard in a sea of ketchup. Pass me the tissue, please.


I'm kidding lah; I don't hate Malaysians. It's just that you gain a certain animosity towards them inside the stadium. In the stadium, whoever's opposing the other team is A MOTHER FUCKER. All civilness is thrown out of the window; censorship is bullshit. It's no holds-barred vulgarity fest. There's children around? "FUCK YOU REFEREE!", and if they follow suit, we've got hope for the next generation :).

Match started off. Singapore looked like they were playing well. The ball went into the box, but never into the goal, which defeats the purpose of getting it into the box. I knew not the name of the players...but they're either "Brilliant" or "Waste of a perfectly good abortion". The Malaysians, no matter how good they are, should "Balik Kampung", and every foul by a Malaysian warrants a card. Everytime a Singaporean commits a foul, the referee is "bastard", and should go back to PRC.

The atmosphere was infectious. I found myself cheering and groanig and swearing like the best of them.

Oh, and you see Ambrish, with "Singapore" around his neck? He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. He's actually Malaysian.


Everybody was confident Singapore would win. I mean, for most of the first half, they held pocession, but could never convert. The first-half ended with a score which was no score at all "Love-all".

And bang, the second-half started, and pretty soon (I'm not sure, time passes by FAST in the stadium), there were eruptions of groans. I was talking to Vanessa, and we missed it! FUCK. Malaysia scored! Balik kampung! Malaysia tidak boleh!

I was at the edge of my seat at this point; all my attention were on the field, the ball, and the mother-fuckers chasing after it. My heart stopped whenever the Malaysians caught sight of the goal. If a Singaporean had a ball, I felt hope; PLEASE FUCKER, SCORE AND I'LL CALL YOU AWESOME.

There were good chances by Singapore; they hit the post once, and there was a good kick which the keeper save.

Hope never died, and finally, GOAL BITCH! Ball to player to player to player to player and pass bodoh-keeper, and GOAL SIAL! Eruptions of cheers all over! KALLANG ROAR! PHWOAR! AND KALLANG WAVE! WHOOOOOOOOSSSHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I attempted to take a picture of the wave, but somebody's flag blocked me. Meh.

The final whistle blew, and extra time came. 30 minutes of extra time, yet, no proper winner had been decided. Then, the penalty shoot-out.

Singapore first.

1-0.

Then Malaysia.

1-1.

2-1.

2-2.

3-2.

3-3.

Both teams matched the other's tenacity.

4-3.

4-4.

5-4.

5-5.

6-5.

6-5.

YAY BITCH! LIONEL RITCHIE SAVES! HAHAHHAHAAHAHAH!

And with that, the match ended.

Hari, Ambrish, Naveen and Me.


It won't take a genious to figure out who's Vanessa.



We decided to eat supper, but everywhere was crowded, so we grabbed grub from Fairprice and headed home instead. I walked home with Naveen, and that was it.

Reached home at 1, talked to Delise for awhile, and lights-out; with peace-in-mind, and happiness

Catch that Kallang Wave

I'm so tired right now, having just returned from the longest day of my life.

Nearly.

Drama in the morning, Delise in the afternoon, and Soccer up to now.

Believe it or not, I just got home from the Singapore VS Malaysia match! Bet you never expected me to be the kind to watch soccer, but what they hey :).

Will post more tomorrow, only because I'm so tired right now.

WEST SIDE STORY - ACSian Theatre

GENRE	Opera & Musical
BY	ANGLO-CHINESE JUNIOR COLLEGE
ARTISTS	Chia Yu Hsien, Deanna Tan, Glory Ngim, Tan Yi Jun, Raeza Ibrahim and the ACSian Theatre ensemble cast of 25.
DURATION	2 hrs 15 mins.(with 15 mins Interval)
SEATING	Free Seating
TICKETS	$51 For 6th & 7th April 8:00 pm show $31 For 4th & 5th April 8:00 pm show and 7th April 2:00 pm matinee $51 For 6th & 7th April 8:00 pm show<br/><br/> $31 For 4th & 5th April 8:00 pm show and 7th April 2:00 pm matinee<br/> * price(s) excludes $1.00 booking fee
VENUE	DBS Arts Centre - Home of the SRT

SYNOPSIS:
Based on Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story celebrates its 50th year of existence, since its first showing in 1957. West Side Story's story of star-crossed lovers features achingly beautiful lyrics and powerful dances which give meaning to the inner search for enduring love.

Check here. And do come :) I'm doing two things I've never done before: I'm dancing AND I'm fighting.

I'm not a dancer. I'm not a fighter. Baby, I'm your lover.

Had a Bad Day

Horrible horrible day.

I shan't elaborate on it, but...it just stinks lah.

And it really brought my mood down, to even worse than before. I hope I wasn't too mean to people around me.

Thank you, Eru for being there and trying to put things into perspective. Thank you, Delise for being so understanding, and I'm sorry too.

Just as I've said before, smile on my behalf everybody :).

Kiwi!

Fuck Me

I think I have a sticker stuck behind my back; it says "Fuck me".

Everything's been fucking me over, and I hate it. I never meant to do harm to anybody; heck, I was trying to do good. Yet, I'm fucked over like this.

And my stupid phone ran out of battery in the bus, and I was so fucking down, because that's just the moments when I needed someone most. When I got home, I charged it, and checked for messages, and there were none.

And I feel so much worse than before.

I hope there's an explanation for this, because I'm so fucked right now, I can't even begin.

Smile my Smile

I think I'm worry alot of people; but that's never my intention.

I was, and am, not the kind of person who'll confide in others; my blog's like the outlet of my emotions. So please, whenever I rant like I did so many times before, or pour out like I did so many times before, don't bring it up. I appreciate it, really, and I'm so happy to have people like you in my life...but I'm just not the kind of person who lays things out in the open and talks about it.

I mean, love's already complicated with only 2 people inside it. Why involve anybody else?

So everybody, thanks for your concern; my heart goes out to you guys, and I'm glad that you're there for me. Know that I'll always be there for you guys too, no matter what.

For now, just smile more, K? Do it on my behalf.

Smile my Smile.

To Hell with my Pride

Tonight I Wanna Cry
By Keith Urban

Alone in this house again tonight
I got the TV on
The sound turned down
And a bottle of wine
There's pictures of you and I
On the walls around me
The way that it was
And could've been surrounds me
I'll never get over you walkin' away.

I've never been the kind
To ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein' strong
Meant never losin' your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough
To let go of my pain 
To hell with my pride
Let it fall like rain from my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry.

Would it help if I turned a sad song on
"All By Myself", would sure hit me hard
Now that you're gone
Or maybe unfold
Some old yellow lost love letters
It's gonna hurt bad before it gets better
I'll never get over you 
By hiding this way.

I've never been the kind
To ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein' strong
Meant never losin' your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough
To let go of my pain
To hell with my pride
Let it fall like rain from my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry.

I've never been the kind
To ever let my feelings show
And I thought that being strong
Meant never losin' your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough
To let go of my pain 
To hell with this pride
Let it fall like rain from my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry.

To let go of my pain
To hell with my pride
Let it fall like rain from my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry...

It's evident enough that I'm down and depressed. People might say I'm "emo", but am I wearing black nail-polish, and mat-specs? I'm just being human. I don't slit my wrists or anything like that. I listen to music because sometimes, you want to get lost in the music.

However, the problem is that the music reminds me of you, so instead, I find myself being lost in you.

And when the music stops, I'm lost, not just in the music, but in this big wild world, because I'm lost without you.

To hell with what other people think. I'm just...I'm at my wit's end and everything's killing me. I'm not in the mood to go to school tomorrow because I miss my Secondary School friends and because I don't want to be criticised by the drama coach. I have lots of free periods; but my classmates don't have those periods free, so I'll be alone.

I don't want to be alone anymore, because you gave me a taste of what it's like to be not alone.

The Hallowed Halls of AC

A little rundown of the days just past:
Sunday: Date with Delise followed by a detour to the Airport to see WanJun off. Bye WanJun! Monday: Classes, classes, PE and Drama.

Gasp the PE! "1SB2 seems pretty darn condemned, so let's screw them over somemore!" seems to be the underlying attitude of the School-planning, whatever. Firstly, the ratio's bad (but I've gotten used to it already), and the student composition is pretty damn weird. And our teacher hardly sees us because not all take Chemistry. ON TOP OF THAT, we've been split up for Physical Education, which is just so...UGH. I wanted more girls, and at least, I got them in my new "PE" class. So, yay...

I went to school at the later-that-usual time of 8:10. With the incident of the past week still fresh in my mind, I alighted in the middle of my bus-trip and hopped on the train. I was on time, thankfully. I'm seated with my class during assembly now, and I'm still trying to get used to the new arrangements.

Mother Tongue followed after assembly, and I'm taking Malay B, like before. It's just me and Naveen (guy from my OG, scroll down for picture). We went to the normal malay class first, but was sent to STI...which is where again? We wondered the Hallowed Halls of AC (has a nice ring to it, don't 'cha think?), and as we were walking toward the WRONG direction, our MLB teacher called us back to the STI. It was me, Naveen and the Malay teacher, who's a JC3, and an ex-ACSian. After ten minutes spent on a comprehension passage and another 5 spent on verbal "question-and-answer", we chatted for the remainder of the lesson...IN ENGLISH SIAL!

KI next, and I brought up the issue of 1+1=2; effectively wasting a good 15-minutes. Somebody brought up the issue of perfections and sins, and that was the lesson. Just like that 40-minutes go poof. Time passes by quickly during verbal jousting. Except when it's on The Arena.

A break where we played Bridge in the Base-Class, and then Geography for an hour: the whole of which was used up on introductions. During my introduction, I talked about myself abit too much, promoting ACSian theatre even; and consequently, the name stuck on most of the other's minds. Upon the election of the Geography Representative, my name went up for judgement and so did this girl from Paya Lebar Methodist. We were asked to go out; voting inside, but the two of us outside struck a deal. I hated collecting notes but liked taking attendance, she hated taking attendance but liked collecting notes. So that was it; half-way through voting (I saw lots of arms raised for one person...but who? Ahh...the mystery), we walked in and decided to split the tasks.

There's two geog reps. And I'm one of them. Yay. Everybody loves Raymond. I got the horrible teacher for Maths! She took me during the all-lectures week; at first I thought she was funny. As time went by, I went from the laughing stage, to the staring-blankly stage, to the rolling-of-my-eyes stage, to the groaning stage and at last, the I-want-somebody-else stage. God help me.

Physics, which is nothing to write home about, and then going-home, where I slacked. Feels good to be home early, but...I'd rather be with company.

See ya, WanJun!


And a goodnight to all you guys too.

Crash Into Me

As I crossed the road, I wished a car would just slam into my body.

No, I don't want to die.

I just want to live again. Be knocked around for abit, so that...So that what? I don't know myself. But what I've got now doesn't feel enough. I want what I used to have but I feel so helpless.

Divine intervention, pls.

KTHXBAI.

Why did the Chicken cross the road?

This came out as my Knowledge and Inquiry tutorial, and after pondering at it for abit (I came to a logical answer surprisingly fast), I came up with the most logical answer anybody can possibly come up with.

And I didn't rip this off from anywhere, mind you. It's all Raymond Angelo.

The Chicken in question, literally, crossed the road because...IT'S A CHICKEN!

Well, it's not that simple lah.

The term "chicken" is associated with cowardice. The chicken merely crossed the road to go against the stereotype; he's got balls too. And considering chickens won't be able to differentiate between the "go" and "stop" at the traffic light, the chances of him NOT getting flattened and subsequently flattened again and again is low.

Thus, the chicken's doing something brave, just to prove he's not...a chicken, and ultimately, dispel all "name callings" involving our fair-feathered fried :).

What a load of cock; pun, fully intended.

Being grown-up isn't half as fun as growing up

Honey why you callin me so late
It's kinda hard to talk right now
Honey why you cryin
Is everything ok
I gotta whisper cause I can't be too loud

Well my girls in the next room
Sometimes I wish she was you
I guess we never really moved on

It's really good to hear your voice
Sayin my name
It sounds so sweet
Comin from the lips of an angel
Hearin those words
It makes me weak

And I Dont
Never want to say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

I don't like this song. At first it was because it didn't make sense. That's my fault though; until yesterday, I've been mishearing the lyrics. I heard "girl's in" as "cousin", so the line came out as "My cousin, the next room. Sometimes I wish she was you". That doesn't make sense at all! And then I realised they might be...you know...in-cest and in each other. Now that made sense, but it all so made me creep out.

The song, fundamentally creeped me out, or made no sense to me.

And then I realised that it was "girl's in" and everything clicked; no, it didn't make me like it any more, but it just made more sense. But I still can't stand it. Maybe it's the vocalist's voice, or the band in the background. There's just something so terribly off about this song. Or maybe it's the video. God, I don't like this song, but I HATE THE VIDEO. They look horrible, and you know that part where it goes black-and-white as he recalls the past?

SO CLICHE! EEEKKKS!! SO LAMB!!! BLACK-AND-WHITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND MEMORIES OF DRIVING!!!!!! LMAO!!

I got nothing against anybody who likes this song; personally, aye dunch lyke. Go listen to "In This Diary" by The Ataris instead. This is just the opening verse; try to imagine how awesome the rest of the song is. You can't, because your imagination won't be able to compare to reality.

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer
It was the best I ever had
There were choruses and sing alongs
And that unspoken feeling of knowing
That right now is all that matters

I'm Yours

Hay guise.

How are your yesterdays? Mine are usually full of joy and laughter, but recently, things have taken quite a depressing turn. Hope's on the horizon though; I can feel its radiating heat: it's the kind of heat which lets you know that eventually, the sun will rise for everyone.
Your my sun, and I want to feel your warmth again.

It was a pretty long day yesterday. Breakfast with the family and then Drama in the morning, OG outing in the afternoon, and buffet at night. I couldn't help but feel that these activities are just THERE to fill a void. I'm not saying I didn't have fun, because I did. But...

I don't know.

My mum woke me up at Six in the morning, on a SATURDAY. It was her birthday, so she wanted to go to church as a family. But me and my brothers couldn't wake up. I've been pooped the past god-knows-how-many days; 5 hours of sleep and it's that time between naps again! So my mum went ahead with my uncle and his girlfriend to church, and me and my brothers, when we eventually woke up, joined them for breakfast at Liang Court's McDonalds.

The rest of the family went home while I hauled-ass to school. There was drama from 10 to 4: 2 hours short of a 9-to-5. They don't pay me enough for this. In fact, they don't pay me at all. I HAVE TO PAY THEM! Seriously. Go figure lah, but I find joy in theatre, so I think it's worth it. I reached a half-hour early: after all the trouble I've caused...I don't think I'm in a position to cause anymore.

"Take out your scripts", and I realise mine's the only one not binded (or is it bound?), and I feel like a cheapo and disorganized all of a sudden. But hey, it's not my fault that the binding machine was out-of-sorts when I came! And the script's bloody thick too. To put it this way, it's as thick as...the Social Studies textbook. Whoa.

We started off with exercises...Drama exercises are WILD. Imagine a dark room, with bodies lying on the floor, TWITCHING and you'll get US: ACSian Theatre. One of the exercises involved body-to-floor action; we were spread-eagled on the floor while our Drama In-charge...Ms...god I don't know but she's awesome, "hypnotised" us. I found my arms starting to lift from the floor all of a sudden, and my legs too. I didn't panic though; we're not a cult (I think).

As the rehearsal progressed, I realised it's not as taxing as I thought it was. The warm-up exercises are darn fun, and watching the JC2s act is awesome. They're great, and I'm sure I can learn loads from them.

My character in West Side Story is Diesel; and is described as nice and slow. Yep, that's me alright.

Instead of ending at 4, it ended at 2 and I was :). Walked to the MRT with Dheraj, Raymus and Caleb and took the train to Orchard...or "TOWN". I can't stand that term somehow. It feels so over-used, that's all. And by instinct, I'm tempted to ask "Which part of TOWN?" Why can't people just say the usual stuff like...Taka, PS, Cine, Lucky and stuff like that? I think I've lost touch with my generation -.-.

I then walked to Catherine's house at Anderson Road (insert number). They told me to take the train, so I did. But the walk was damn long! It was more of a 30 minute trek; the people are cacti, and the shopping malls are like oasises (or is it oasi?) for they draw me in with pretty visages but I exit without having bought anything. Thankfully, I reached before it poured.

That last sentence is the good news, but the bad news is that there was just Narveen, Ambrish and Cat there. And when I came, it started to rain, so we couldn't play tennis. We just slacked in the lobby for damn long.

Story #1:
Helen! I love Helen! She's this cute 17-month old Chinese-Caucasian who was at the lobby, and we spent a while playing with her. She figured out how to stop music from Cat's phone, and soon, she was playing it on, and stopping it whenever the bad parts came! Clever girl! Must go AC, hor?

Story #2:
This one's been told and retold many times. Narveen was playing tennis, and he's addicted to that thing you spray on your arm to numb your muscles or something. "SMASH", the ball zoomed to the other side, but "SNAP", ouch-goes-the-Narveen. He pulled something in his arm; and in attempt to lessen the pain, he kissed it. And he kissed the thing you spray too. So it was on his lips. Trivia: Your lips are the most sensitive part of the body. And the spray is hot. Ouch. Ice-burn.

Story #3:
I'm in love with Cat's door. She's got pictures of the hottest babes plastered on 'em, and it's awesome. Imagine a door, and cover it with the glozziest, and most curvacious bodies on earth. Thankfully, Cat's a girl. If she's a guy...the door would have been covered by something else...let's not think about that. I forgot to take a pic, but I'll ask for one from Narveen or Ambrish.

It was just the four of us screwing around, but people streamed in slowly and slowly; the rain poured, but the people just dribbled in.

Jocelyn and PeiYi came but left for a party in town. Vanessa (not in the OG, but still good friend) came, and HuiYong (Malaysian) did too. Aaron was the only OGL to be there, so I hope he didn't feel left out or anything. He's from Fairfield, which is gasp, because he seemed so nice! Kidding about Fairfield lah...they're nice; most of them.

WeiXiang, Kai and Timothy came yet we were still in the lobby just talking shiat. Pam came too, and some decided to go swim anyways, but I couldn't really, because of afore-mentioned part-eh. Talked crap, and did a few stupid stuff. And it was time to go!

Medusa; let's do this again! And hopefully, everybody will make it in time, and nobody will have to go off early.

Went to Amara Hotel for dinner with the parents. Happy birthday, Mom! While taking random pictures, my Dad challenged (or bullied me). He took a picture of whatever arty picture I took. Not fair lor. His camera cost $1000++.

But hey, mine's filled with love, so xP.

Release the Inner-Perv

"Geylang Lorong 40, please. That's 4-0, Lorong 40".

That's my opening line to any taxi driver I see. I've to emphasise on the FOUR-ZERO, because drivers often mistake it for 14.

Anyways.

Recently, I gave this opening line to the driver as usual. And I was shocked by the reply which came. "Aiyoh, be honest lah. You want to go Lorong 38, right? Go hoot some China woman?".

KNN! I didn't expect that. Turns out that those who want to "hoot" at Lorong 38 ask the driver to go to Lorong 40 AT FIRST, and later, they ask the driver to turn into Lorong 38 where all the action's at.

Just a random piece of information to help you pass those lonely nights where both your hands are broken.

RANDOM!

What did the calculator called Raymond say to the other calculator called Delise?

"You can count on me" ;)

I'm crashing the Sofa

[
My uncle and his girlfriend are staying over for a week or so; for business purposes, and they've invaded my room! I can't imagine what's going to happen in my room while I'm gone...but hopefully, it'll be the same as I've left it. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people messing around with my stuff.

Did you hear about the dude who freaked with my iPod?

You probably haven't. I killed him. Oops. Now close your eyes, count to ten, and *poof*, the memories gone, k?

So, I'm crashing the sofa for the time-being. Pass me the anti-gas mask: My youngest brother doesn't wash his ass properly. Gasp.

Anyways, I've been posted to my class as well. For the next three months, at least, I'll be in 1SB2; also known as, THAT class.

What's "THAT"?

1SB2 is infamous for many reasons. Firstly, we hold the most number of Indian scholars in a single class: 4. We have the least number of girls too, which is 3, a fact which I've bitched about, and ranted on on countless occasions. It's also the dungeon where those with the weirdest combinations are thrown into; for instance, I take Maths, Physics, and out of nowhere, H2 Geography. None of us take Chemistry, despite the fact that my teacher teaches ONLY that subject, and...the number of guys from SJI in a single class astounds me as well. I mean...I hardly see more than 2 of them together, and suddenly, there's 6 of them in one class.

As Neo eloquently put it, "Whoa,".

But in the end, I've got to bear with it. I was disappointed at first, but I think I'll grow to like the class. There's plenty of likeable personalities, so I'm sure I'll enjoy myself ultimately. And Mr Kwok, our Form, seems like a mixture of Sodium and water; A Blast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On other news, there's an OG outing tomorrow, so I'll be there. It seems busy: Church in the morning, then Drama from 9-4, OG outing, and then a dinner with my family.

Until then, look forward to the Zune review (I've figured it out~) and the Pakistan posts too. I haven't forgotten about it lah, just lacked the time. But the weekend looks promising :).

And to my fellow J1s, no matter what school you're from. We're only a few weeks in yet I see so many people mugging away! Just do as the picture says! Chillax, biatch!


PS: For the record, I'm the first to liberally use the term "biatch". No matter what anybody else says.

The Blank Post

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now.

It's a mixture of hurt, betrayal, disappointment, jealousy, anger, and again, hurt.

How the hell am I supposed to react?

It's a blank; my heart's disappeared and all that's left is nothing.

Welcome to the Mountains

I'd like to congratulate Delise for winning some scholarship thing from the MOE. She got first in standard, so...credit must be given to where it's due.

Delise: Back-row, third girl from the right, Only Star in sight :)


Speaking of credits, thanks to Peizhen for this picture. I had my own camera, but I was carrying two bags at the same time, so it wasn't steady at all. Congratulations to her too, for winning something, and also, to this Sec2 girl...whose name I can't quite recall, but if you're reading this, do drop a commeng :).

I never did receive any money from the Government. They've got a thing against Permanent Residents. Oh well. If Singapore is ever attacked by Malaysia or any other country for that matter; you know where I'll be. I'll be in a beach in Philippines, armed with nothing but a sunscreen lotion.

Because god knows how humanely darker I can get. Or it might be...INHUMANELY!

Anyways, on Saturday afternoon, I accompanied Delise to the ceremony at Radin Mas CC. People can be really inconsiderate; after being asked to stay until the end of the ceremony, people left hurriedly instead. Some of the recepients, after getting their prizes, didn't even bother to sit back down to their designated seats; they just waltzed off.

Tsk.

After that shindig, we went to Safra at Mount Faber. We wanted to play bowling for abit, but it was crowded, so we did studying instead. I missed studying with her, and, now that we're doing it again, it feels good. I like being productive and being loved at the same time; it's the best of both worlds. My emotional and intelligent needs are being satisfied. Yayness. I competed with her in A-maths; shiat, I've gotten rusty.

BUT NEVER MIND! "I'm giving you a chance, since you're my girlfriend," is the ever-popular chant.

We went to the arcade where I whooped her in Time Crisis, and some rhythm game, and she kicked my ass in that...that game where you move your hands over and under sensors...the really retarded one, yes the one with pink and blue lights. Apparently, she was CHAMPION of her primary school :).

As we walked home, we spotted a detour: "This way to Mount-it's only a mountain by name-Faber".

So we went up. And up. And up. And up. It's not much of a mountain, but if you scale it on foot, it can seem...impossible and oh-so-pant-pant-tiring to conquer. The view was at the top was good, though. Too bad for the clouds.



Photo's Carp, and I don't mean that in a i'm-only-pretending-to-be-bad-so-you-can-praise-me. None of the photos came out really good. :\


The Jewel Box: Does anybody else find the mountain ranges tacky?


Went home after that, and I've so got to get ready for school tomorrow. Must practice the dance.

I'm Late!

Drama yesterday day was the killer. Yup, "the", pronounced as "dee" for emphasis. After stoning at the bleachers for an hour (the rest of the OG had either gone home or left for their CCA), I changed into my drama attire: all black. Great. Now literally blend in. This time around, the training was held in the Pink Room, instead of the Black Room.

Go figure.

I must admit, the training for drama is hard. In no stage of my life did I see myself doing "dance". But here I am; body aching, muscles crying out for "Salonpas", fearing, yet at the same time anticipating, tomorrow's session of jumps, twirls and flourishes. My schedule for the month has been released: 3 or 4 trainings a week. And my performance isn't until April.

ACSian Theatre will be performing the popular musical "West Side Story" from 4th of April to the 7th at the DBS Arts Centre. This is a multi-thousand (I'm so tempted to use million; but alas, I exxaaggeerraattee) production, and I'm sure it'll be worth every single dollar. Tickets information? I'll provide more in time to come.

Anyways! Two weeks into ACJC and I've already been late once! It's mostly because of Drama. Each move induces feelings of pins and needles. Who knew dancing could be so...UGGHH! And the steps are hard too. I was exhausted when I got home, and when I slept...I ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzz-ed until the next morning.

Cynthia shook me to consiousness, but AC only starts at 8:10 on Tuesdays. "Wake me up later", I mumbled. With that, she stopped her relentless wake-up call from hell. HOLD ON! I DIDN'T SAY HOW LATE! So, I didn't wake up until 7:30. With no chance of me making it on MRT or Bus, I took a cab. And was still late. The traffic over there is horrible.

I don't see the point in putting three schools in such close proximity to other, when all you get in the end is the stickiest jam in any roads in Singapore? (Stickiest Jam. Lol.). I was late; but by a mere 3 minutes. Still, that was enough to get a booking from the HOD of Mother Tongue, whom, IMO, speaks damn fluently in English, effectively destroying my stereotype of HODs of Mother Tongues.

There was me, him, and another JC2.

HOD of MT: What's your number?
JC2: ******
HOD of MT: JC1, what's your number?
JC1: 90****70 (My handphone number's too important)
HOD: Are you sure?
JC1: Yeah. 90****70.
HOD: How come there's so many numbers?
JC1: 9-0-*-*-*-*-7-0. There's 8. Isn't that right?
HOD: Don't try to be funny.
JC1: You can call that number. My handphone's with me.
HOD: I was asking for you IC.
JC2: OMGWTFLOL.

Doi.

I was supposed to have detention, but after checking with the Discipline Master, JC1s didn't get detention until they got their class postings. Thank God. Day proceeded per normal; KI's fun, Math's wild, Geog's sian and Physics is a biatch.

Here's a piece of good news: I'm in the Editorial Club! Yay!

Let's look forward to tomorrow! And hopefully, no more mishaps. I've had too many, I think. I'm too important to get expelled! *gasp!*



It's been weeks since Orientation, but I still hang out with the people of Medusa. They're nice, really :).

Top: Pauline, Debbie
Third: Sam, Aaron, WeiYong, Kai, MinHao, Tim, WeiXiang (Typo?), Vishesh
Second: JiaLing, PeiYi, Jocelyn, Cat, Pam, Raymond, David
First: Ambrish, Narveen, Hari
Missing: Pat, HuiWen.

AC's been great, they've been great, I've been great, and you've been great. Tatas.

Diesel of the Jets

I got back at 10plus from drama yesterday, so I didn't have time to post.

Blogger was gently caressing my ass on Sunday, so I couldn't post.

Wait a minute. WHAT AM I DOING HERE AT THIS TIME?

Ahh...the mystery.

Saturday Mourning

Last friend you:
1. Saw: My OGs
2. Talked to on the phone: Delise
3. Texted: Delise
4. Got a text from: Someone from drama telling me that there's rehearsal today from 10 to 4.

Today:
1. Tasting: Tasting what?
2. Better than yesterday: Should be lah :)
3. What were you doing two hours ago: Trolling forums.


Tomorrow:
1. Is: The day after today?
2. Got any plans: Unsure. There might be a party, but I don't mind sleeping in.
3. Dislikes about tomorrow: What's not to like?


Favorite:
1. Number: 15
2. Season: Spring
3. Color: Happiness Pink (?)

Currently:
1. Missing: All my secondary school mates!
2. Mood: Positive! I dropped my electrons, see.
3. Wanting: The chance for another H2 subject.

Q&A:
Q: First thing you did this morning: Checked my phone and found out that there was drama. Goodness.

Q: Last thing you ate: Breakfast of rice, egg, cocktail weiners (that sounds so wrong) and luncheon meat.

Q: What's annoying you right now?: My Media Player can play songs but has no sound.

Q: Do you believe in long distance
relationships?: If it's the right person, it's the right person.

Q: Is there a person who is on your
mind right now: You know me.

Q: Where is the last place you
went?: Bukit Purmei.

Q: Do you have any siblings?:
Two of them.

Q: Do you smile often?:
I'd like to think so :(.

Q: Do you think that a person is
thinking of you?:
Haha. Always.

Q: Do you wish upon stars?:
There's nothing more reliable.

Q: Are you a friendly person?:
Yeap.

Q: Whose bed did you sleep in last
night?:
Mine lol.

Q: What color shirt are you wearing?:
Red.

Q: What were you doing at 12 last
night?:
I was sleeping liao loh.

Q: Do you have more guy friends or
girl friends?:
Guy friends. It's a guy thing.

Q: When was the last time you cried?:
I don't cry :'0

Q: What was the last thing you did
before you went to sleep last
night?:
Read a book!

Q: Take any vitamins?:
Vitamins, shiatamins.

Q: What are you about to do?:
Burn with Courage.

Q: Do you ever check your phone while
waiting for someone to call?:
Haha. Who doesn't?

Q: Rate life as of right now 1-10?:
9; only because my mum still hasn't restored my allowance.

An Aside on Good Looks and Effort

The Arena seemed like a good idea on paper, but its execution and lack of quality fails it.

Let's start with the rules; SCREW THE RULES. I thought the format itself was innovative, but god, the POI system was the pits. The POI-er, to raise a POI, had to press a buzzer. If the POI-ee chose to accept it, he presses another buzzer. But nope, that went out of the window from the get-go. As such, speaker's speeches were constantly interrupted by the POIs. POIs are good and all, but, TECHNICALLY (ahem), it shouldn't be used to derail someone's train of thoughts.

The result? Unfinished speeches and incoherent points. Gah.

And the host was horrible. It seemed so stilted; he's speech and "jokes". Its especially noticeable when he cracks a one-liner, and it resonates because nobody's laughing.

They wore "costumes" too. Did anybody notice the gloves on the Raffles guys? Makes debate almost seem hip. Dawg.

Ohs wells.

The motion was the typical Looks VS Effort debate. Loyang had Looks (not literally), and Raffles had Effort (in my opinion, they could have used with more).

The speakers were of OK standard, at least, most of them were. The 1st speaker for Raffles had no balls; no POIs, and seemed intimated all the time. But I guess that's to be expected.

Don't get me started on Loyang's second speaker. What the christ were they thinking when they put her on national television? I won't critisize based on looks; but the behaviour on stage was...let's just say I felt my skin burn in shame. I WANT DECORUM TO BE OBSERVED IN THIS HOUSE! Nabei. She act damn gung-ho and ah-lian-ish on stage man. Like...Want-to-fight-want-to-fight-like that. Cheesepie. She exaggerated every single point, but at the same time, oversimplified it, as if the person she's talking to was born yesterday.

And that "When-I-was-a-baby" thing was the least cute thing I've ever seen. Ever. Props to the Raffle's second speaker for the "How credible is your Mummy" line. Brilliant.

At the end of the day though, it all boils down on points.

Loyang based their argument on the fact that people are shallow; people judge based on good looks. I agree with this; like I've said, you've got to wade the shallows before you can reach the depth of the oceans. Thus, because of the shallow-ness, good looking people are given more opportunities.
But does getting more opportunities mean succeeding? Even if you get the opportunity, it is the effort you put in that lets you get what you want.

And on good-looking sports people who get lots of endorsements.
Is it really considered "triumph" when they succeed, not in the field they chose to specialise in, but based on their looks alone? Very often, as sportsmen, they train hard. When they get lots of endorsements based on looks alone, their talent and their training is often ignored. How will you like it when you've practiced for so hard, yet...it all goes to waste?
Is that really considered a "triumph"?

It maybe true that goodlooking people can get certain opportunities. However, this again can be argued upon. It all depends on the situation: for instance, if you're boss is a horny-ass pervert, then you may get the job. But if you're boss is a woman who's afraid of good-looking competition, then sayonara to you.

Though, like Loyang said, there are occasions where good looks won (the US Presidency), I'm sure if we look hard enough, we'll find occasions where good looks were discriminated against. But I'm just too lazy to look.

I agree with Raffle's points on good-looks coming with their own stereotypes. They are seen as being able to just flow through life easily; and as such, certain people may choose to give the chance to others.

"If two people put in the same effort, then the more good looking one would win." I don't think it's as simple as that; so many factors play in: race; experience; achievements. And just like in that statement, if two people are just as good looking as the other, then the one which puts in more effort would win, no?

At the end of the day, I just wish to say that good looks is just one positive god bestows upon some of us. If we look hard enough, there's a plus side to everybody; I can easily substitute "Good looks" with "intelligence", or "race"...

Just accept that everybody's different and at the end of the day, the one which puts in more effort and has more BURNING COURAGE should win.

I've been able to rebutt Loyang quite soundly, I think. But Raffles didn't do such a good job, so I guess that's why they loss.

But by my judgement, victory goes to Raffles. Just because they don't have that butch in their team :)

My Pet Peeve

You know what I hate?

When people say, after having laid out my points in defending somebody, that I'm biased.

Oohh...I'm BIASED. What's new? Of course, I'm biased! If I wasn't biased, then I wouldn't be supporting a particular side in the first place! It seems so retarded; after you've listed out your points so carefully...some people comes in and says "YOU'RE BIASED!". It seems like it's Obvious Day at Camp Stupid.

I mean to say, what does saying that add to the argument/discussion? At the end of the day, I've listed out my points, and someone saying "I'm biased" rebutts none of them.

And since the people call me biased, then so are they: biased against me.

PS: I'm not referring to any particular incidences; It's just a random thought. I'm sorry for the lack of postings! But I'll get back things on track sooner or later.

PSS: My time-table's crap. Take Monday, for example. Technically, I've got no lessons ater 11:10, but because I'm only allowed to leave premises at 1:10, I have to stay there and rot. Worst thing's that most of the people from OG are having lessons I'm not having. Sigh. I'll hit the gym and pump up the Bhangra.

PSSS: I'm taking Knowledge and Inquiry! Whether it holds relevance to my future, I don't know. It's a pre-requisite; if I intend to become a Lawyer. It's one of my dream jobs; so, to keep that avenue open, I've taken KI. As a result, I don't have to take any H1, nor GP, so I've got less periods than before. I'll usually cheer, but this time...

Fiack.

Don't feel like Dancing.

I'm tired, so I won't write much today.

I auditioned for Drama but ended up doing dance instead. Don't ask. I'll elaborate more in the future.

For now, just entertain yourself with thoughts of a dancing elephant. And you'll get me.

Go AC Theatre!

Team JJ

So the other day, I returned to Queenstown.

Did anybody see me? And my SHINY AC BADGE!

Haha. I can be a show-off at times. I've been doing one-armed push-ups; using my left, so that my left chest will become more pronounced. Thats' the chest where I pin my badge, see. That way, everybody will have an easier time seeing it.

Joking.

Anyways, it felt so good to be back in Queenstown! Though there were lectures scheduled in the afternoon; we were allowed to leave at an early time: 1:10. Me and Ringo, at the tolling of the bell, headed off for the old Secondary school.

Nothing much has changed. But there's a certain lacking in the air. I miss all the Secondary 4s! It seems so much more...less interesting. There's less people to talk to...and the people who carry my stories are gone. Is there anybody in Queenstown who still remembers the time when I was in the Quest Magazine of '03? The one with me eating at the camp and looking oh-so-cute?

Nope, I doubt it.

There were a bunch of JJ people there too. Their funfair is coming up soon, February 3, I think. There's a bunch of fun people at JJ, so I strongly encourage everyone who has the time to go. From the looks of it, their orientation was fun. They even had camp, so, I guess it doubles the pleasure (ahem). I'm not saying my orientation wasn't any fun, but if only there were more Queenstown people. It's just me and Ringo now. In JJ, on the other hand, they've got quite a handful (look ma, two hands!).

I was pleasantly surprised to find people being so...HYPER! Elgin the robot, became super-charged! Even WaiFun was initiating cheers! Check out this crazy video!

Go team JJ!

Chronicles Under Gunfire IV

Chronicles Under Gunfire: A raymond-angelo.blogspot.com Event; Fourth of an Eight-Part Epic

I've got a sorethroat; I can't talk. Since I'm a huge fan of the idea of...imagining myself as if I'm talking to you guys...I can't talk with a sorethroat. So I'll bombard you with pictures!

Pictures: Margallia Hills








Pictures: City of Taxila and the Bhamala Ruins










Personal Favourite Alert:


I'm just lazy.

Return of An AC Warrior

First off, I'd like to apologise for the lack of updates the past few days; I've been busy with orientation, as you know.

It's not easy to get used to this new lifestyle; I mean to say. Before the 3rd of January, life seemed so much more carefree. And then -BAM-, all of a sudden, you're expected to spend 4 consecutive days in school; waking at 5 in the morning and reaching home at around 8. I'm still not used to it; but I'm trying.

Waking up, as usual, is the ultimate pain in the nuts. At first, you're asking, "5 more minutes, please", and you ask and ask again, and before you know it, you're late and you're on a taxi to school and you've lost a good portion of your allowance...I'm kidding about the taxi part, really. Things have taken a difficult turn, and I'm not getting as much money as I used to, so yeah.

I've got two options: a long bus ride or an exhausting MRT one. I like the long bus ride because I can catch up on my sleep while on the bus; and at such early hours, getting a seat is not a problem. But then, you realise that when someone says long...it means REALLY BLOODY FUCKING LONG. The ride lasts for more than an hour, and as the bus approaches AC, the traffic becomes more congested: the bus slows down to a crawl, and you're only solution is dropping off a stop early and RUNNING to school.

Needless to say, you'll be sweating bullets. And swearing profusely. You'll be like "Dirka dirka dirka MOTHER-FUCKING TRAFFIC".

If only the MRT station was nearer to my house; it's a 10-minute walk...I know it's not that far...but I'm lay-zee. I can always take a bus to the station itself but that's troublesome too. And even though the ride goes by reasonably quickly (makes me wonder why I never considered taking MRT to Queenstown, I groan at all the hous of sleep I've needlessly lost), the walk from Buena Vista to the JC itself is very far.

One, two, three...*GROAN and GRUMBLE*.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On another subject; I'd like to address the perception of AC being full of snobs who look down on people from "lesser" schools (i.e Queenstown).

It's not. All you have to do is be yourself and people will accept you.

Don't try too hard, because that way, you're acknowledging that you think they're better than you, and as such, you have to "prove yourself". You don't have to lah. I think it's Wan Jun who told me that the thing they can't stand is "trying to hard", and I heeded that advice. I know it's cliche, but all you've got to do is be yourself.

Because underneathe that uniform is the same skin, and in three months time, all those uniforms will be the same.

One uniform; one crest; one ACJC.

I look forward to the next two years tremendously.

It's alot of Pun

I got my first AC shirt today and I love it.

Does anybody else see the pun here? It's so subtle! You see the shirt folded in a nice little plastic bag; and you see this slogan. You unfold the shirt and read the slogan ("UNFOLD") and it dawns on you...PUNNY!

So cute man! Seriously. It's so witty, I think.

To sum up my first two days in ACJC, it's been a blast; Medusa's been fun to hang out with, and I hope these guys will continue to by my friends in the next two years.

And as for the ship we're supposed to be looking for; well chances are, you've already found it :)

It's so obvious; 4 hours into the camp, I figured it out. Ask Ringo: he's my witness.

Puck Cream; A Collection of Made-up Slogans

1)Puck up your life!

2)Everybody needs a heaping helping of Puck!

3)Your meal's just a Puck away from being a feast.

4)Puck-ing good.

5)Puck- All-natural; We don't fake our Pucks.

6)A Puck for me and you is a Puck for goodness.

7)Take away the Pee, replace it with a Fee; and you get the real meaning of Puck.

8)It's imported AND cheap!

9)Your life began with a Puck.

10)Puck: Extra Virgin.

Chronicles Under Gunfire III

Chronicles Under Gunfire: A raymond-angelo.blogspot.com Event; Third of an Eight-Part Epic



Life in Pakistan wasn't easy. There were many restrictions. Certain districts were out of bounds for us; there was a risk of us getting kidnapped, or worse, killed. We were also only allowed to take taxis from a certain company; and even then, when we wanted to make a booking, we had to do it through the Brit High Comm. You never know with this taxi drivers, they said. If they see you living in a big house, they could very well kidnap you; hold you for ransom and vulgarise your body and soul...

Kidding about the part of "vulgarise your body".

Anyways, the area cordoned off from us included anything which looked remotely western, or was seen as a "symbol of the west". This included, but weren't limited to McDonalds (Gasp!), KFC (Though they did have PFC or Pakistani Fried Chicken), Pizza Hut, and even the UN Building!

I tricked people into thinking I wore a kevlar when I went out. That, in all its believablity, is false. Sorry, if I worried anyone. I'll apologise, and say..."GOTCHA BIATCH!"

I was able to visit few places when I went to the country. They were limitted; and even then, we had to wait for our Uncle Paul to finish his work. It's said that it's unsafe to go out with a woman alone. Bleah..

The house wasn't all that friendly to us during our stay, also. There were times where the electricity went off in the still of the night. It's really dark there, and cold too; heaters are needed, always. I never got out of my jeans; they're warm and comfy; I lived in them. The TV's signal isn't always reliable: it went off at the worst of times, and came back on without warning. Go figure.

And don't let me get started on the tap water.

I liked the people there. They knew only the very basic of English; but at least they were polite. They said "Thank Yous" excessively, and "Hellos" a tad too cheery; but I won't fault them for trying. Because of the language barrier, sometimes, the lines of communications broke down. They knew what they were SUPPOSED to do, but when you asked something special, like..."Put yoghurt on my Naan,", they just nod their head but actually, they fail to understand what you're saying, and don't put the yoghurt on my Naan.

WHERE'S MY YOGHURT?

I like their traditional wear; and for winter, they use a blanket to cover themselves. It's called, unimaginatively, a Man-Blanket. It looked comfy enough, I think. The people aren't at all affluent; the most high-class car I saw was the latest BMW; and that was owned by an Ex-Pat. There were sights which astounded me; a Toyota outside a tent! How can someone have a car, when they don't have a house?



As for shopping; don't let me go there. Literally, don't let me go to Pakistan to do my shopping. It's, in many ways, horrible. A typical shopping centre looks like this:


There are no proper buildings (matter of fact, tallest building there is less than 10 storeys high, which is attributed to it's proximity to a fault) in their "malls", just a collection of store houses, like the ones in Arab Street. The goods are fake; even if they claim to be real, I find it hard to believe their authenticity when you're selling Polo in a shop called "Mr Shirts". They have an affinity with "Mr": Mr Books, Mr Books Too, Mr Pizza. The souvenir shops number dozens, but they all sell the same goods; goods which are all claimed to be "unique".

Go figure.

A hangout for us was the British High Commision's Clubhouse which was inside the Diplomatic Enclave. The Diplomatic Enclave houses all the embassies in Islamabad; and the security checks to enter are strict. They have to check the bottom of the car, plus the hood, for bombs! Wild.

The Clubhouse had a computer, good food, a pool table and jolly English company. Needless to say, I liked it.


I loved the food over there. And I loved the attention to detail. Check this out; what an awesome feast. Makes me want to be hungry all over again.


We also went bowling, and even Lazer shooting, with Uncle Paul's mates. It was fun; but it would have been more fun if I was with you guys.

Any of you guys.

On other news, I started my days at ACJC today. I don't know what their stand on blogging is. It seemed strict; but that's not going to stop me from posting about it lah. I'll have to censor myself here and there, but it's better than nothing.

Orientation's been loads of fun, and I'm looking forward to a great year ahead :)

That doesn't mean I don't miss QTSS. I miss it! All of you guys! I'll come back soon; but it won't be until next week, because my orientation only ends this Saturday. Boohoo. That means I'm missing the Sec 1 Orientation and the Drama Open House.Crappert.

I'll end this with this words which I'll leave to be intentionally ambigious:
Let the light seperate you and your friend.

Chronicles Under Gunfire; A Special Report

Chronicles Under Gunfire: A raymond-angelo.blogspot.com Event; A Special Report

A few weeks ago, I watched a feature on National Geographic entitled "World's Most Dangerous Gangs". The gang in question is MS-13. It's made up of Central Americans who immigrate to the United States. In the United States, they from this gang called Mala Salvatrucha, or MS-13 in short.

When these gang members are caught for their misdeeds; instead of going to prison, they perpetuate the gang; like rats, they multiply. As of now, they infiltrate over 30 states in the US of A and have spread to many countries around the world.

I don't know it in detail; it was ages since I watched it. But a recent occurence has sparked the memories. If you want to read more, refer to this article:

Source: CBS News
“Well, with respect to MS-13, we don't look at them as a typical gang. MS-13 has two characteristics that give us great concern and have drawn our attention. One is that they are extremely violent, and they're proliferating around the country. Two is they're an international criminal organization. They're not confined in the United States. You can find them in five countries. And now even in Europe,” says Swecker.

A few blocks from my house is Kohsar Markey; an upper-class market in Islamabad, and nearby is a playground. What I saw here; was shocking.

This gang is notorious for their black-market dealings; of drugs, crime and violence. They control whole villages, collecting "protection taxes" and the like. As a mark of their territories, graffitti is their markings. I was astonished to see the following market in a playground at Pakistan.



This is pretty big; it started off in the US, and now it's in Pakistan. At the States, they recruit kids as young as 8, in the playground. Who knows what's going on in Pakistan?

Maybe they're already here.

You got it here first, at raymond-angelo.blogspot.com. Somebody tell National Geographic!