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Welcome to my blog randomnessandweirdnessisanna.blogspot.com where I try to annoy you as much as possible by not updating even after countless tags.
Oh. Repetition makes me happy.
And yes, there IS a pause button to stop the music from continuously playing in your ear, interrupting the sound of my very annoying voice playing in your heads.
MUHAHAHA.
Adversaries.
The word popped into my head, and I checked it out on "The Free Online Dictionary".
1. An opponent; an enemy.
2. Adversary The Devil; Satan. Often used with the.
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"You have just recieved an e-mail message from What Colour Is Your Heart?"
Facebook spams my inbox.
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My skin. It itches.
Hm. I'm wearing pink.
Ritika would think that I liked it.
The colour pink.
I like the shirt though.
The pink's not too bad.
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My webcam.
It sits on top of my computer screen.
Wait. Not mine.
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An electric fan was brought into my room today. I guess it shows how winter is really over.
Oh winter, I'll miss you.
It didn't snow this year.
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How many different pronouncations are there for words?
Maybe like a part of a name.
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I don't think I have many hoodies.
I like wearing the dark blue one that I wear to school, though.
I wear it a lot outside too.
It goes over my shirt, leaving only my pants visible, the only proof that I'm not in school uniform.
Too bad it has to go in the wash now, though.
Too much paint on it from making a heart during sculpture class.
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Black clothes.
They're like a mystery to me.
They make you look different for some reason.
Maybe make your skin look a different tone; maybe bring out the pink of your cheeks, or the colour of your eyes and lips.
"Hey, black clothes will make you look slimmer! REALLY!" - Miss Rioko Ozawa.
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I feel better now, really.
But I kind of pity my keyboard.
Annathoven?
Only without the piano.
And of course, the genius musical scores that really amount to something.
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I don't want to go deaf.
My earphones broke. Again.
"Anna, you have like, a really huge collection of earphones." - Kimberly Teo
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I remember once, when I was over at Kimberly's, and she shrieked, "I BROKE A NAIL!"
I was really happy to hear it for some reason, not over the fact that she broke a nail, but over the fact that she used those exact words.
It was just really funny to me because it was so stereotypical.
"I have a non-existant sense of humor."
I told her I was going to take down the dates and all. I think it was at 5.17 PM.
But I forgot the date.
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Allegory.
That's still a pretty cool word.
Just like the word "REM".
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I remember that activity our Drama teacher made us do.
We had to lie on our backs, close our eyes, forget everything for a while, remember a recent incident, then write words that came to mind, and then use a huge piece of paper, the kind that come from newsletters or whatever they call it.
I remember being so uncomfortable with both closing my eyes or lying on the ground.
But soon enough, I remembered. But it was just a little too late.
I also remember wanting to crush that defenseless piece of paper in between my hands so bad.
To wring it like a piece of wet cloth, when you're trying to get all the water out.
I started tearing pieces and pieces of paper. Scrunching them up into balls, till I almost felt like I could feel the ink leaking into my hands.
"You looked so scary just now. I didn't even dare to talk to you." - Miss Rioko Ozawa. Again.
The drama teacher had said that the things we had written on the piece of paper and the paper sculptures were made out of our raw emotions.
I took that to mean it wasn't controlled; wasn't stopped.
People told me, later that day that my paper sculpture or the massacre I had lying on the ground, looked like a broken heart.
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I remember taking cups of water. It was dark.
At night, it feels like almost everything I feel inside comes out like rain. A heavy downpour maybe.
It's when I feel most vulnerable.
And just like that, the words, that smile and the sweet taste of water in my mouth still stays in my memory.
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I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote that script for English.
We were supposed to write a version of the Christmas Carol.
Our English teacher described our play as "dark". And because there was so much of death, it almost seemed suitable enough to become a comedy.
At the beginning, I had just finished reading "Coronado" by Dennis Lehane and felt heavily influenced by it because it had this script of a really epic play.
I went back to school after a week of abscense, with my group already picked out. I didn't really mind.
They had come up with a short storyline, like names of the characters they had wanted to use.
But our teacher said that they were behind time. Everyone else had come up with a full storyline, but there was a bit of tension in our group.
He said that maybe I'd be the glue to hold our group together. I didn't believe that statement though.
"Have some self-confidence."
But I started writing out some random words. And soon people were telling me. "Wow. You're writing a scene already!"
It went a little like this:
Scene 1: The spotlight is on Natasha, and she's at home. There's a loud knocking on the door. She opens it, and sees Bill, leaning against it, panting. He's in a mess and looks like it too.
"She's dead."
"What?"
"Angela. She's dead. Gone. I pushed her off the building."
-Bill starts sobbing and Natasha runs forward towards him, to hug him."
"Oh Bill, we'll find a way out of this somehow."
-She pulls the gun from his back pocket, and points the barrel of the gun to his head. Bill feels the coolness of the gun on his skin, stops crying, and stays still.-
"We'll find a way out of this somehow."
-She pulls the trigger, and Bill slips from her arms to fall to the ground, lifelessly.-
That was originally how the scene was supposed to go, but of course, changes were made.
But I think my mood had heavily affected how the script went.
I remember how when I wanted to be away from my team members, I wouldn't be able to concentrate well, or the characters would have been powered by some kind of anger. Some kind of agony.
And at the end, Natasha was supposed to die, making the ending both abrupt and confusing.
So I started writing and editing some scenes on Thursday.
Natalie had come up with most of the ideas for the new scenes though, because I told her I was stuck.
But in the end, I edited them, and I felt sorry when I realised that I had completely taken away Natalie's style or most of her ideas.
I don't know what made me think this way, but I had wanted the character to live after all.
Because right then, I had felt that suicide should not have been an option.
It was only an escape. An escape I didn't want my character to experience.
That sounds wrong, doesn't it?
And so the script was changed, and new parts had been added, much to the annoyance of some of my team members who had every right to be.
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The word "incentives " just came to mind.
Thinkexist.com says:
1. (n.) That which moves or influences the mind, or operates on the passions; that which incites, or has a tendency to incite, to determination or action; that which prompts to good or ill; motive; spur; as, the love of money, and the desire of promotion, are two powerful incentives to action.
2. (a.) Inciting; encouraging or moving; rousing to action; stimulative.
3. (a.) Serving to kindle or set on fire.
Set on fire, eh.
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Leonardo Da Vinci wrote with his left hand, and backwards too.
That was one of the things I learnt today during History.
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Hi Liver,
You work too hard for me.
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I'm going to bed.
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1.37AM