Nap
Do not wake me when I sleep,
not before the morning new.
The dreams I dream I gladly keep
for they are lovely dreams of you.
Review
Flashing strobe lights. Deep, resonant bass sounds. Bodies cramped closely to each other. An indiscriminate amount of alcohol, unhealthy even for the most seasoned drinker.
Such were the sights that bombard my eyes when I was at Saint James’s Power-House yesterday. Incidentally, the name, I am told, is pronounced as James-es, rather than James, the latter being a product of our local ‘ah lianz’ vernacular.
The occasion: celebrating the end of yet another semester of exams.
I am thinking: just another 5 more of such semesters and this period called university life is officially over. It’s strange why I think that way, when I should be enjoying my life now. I should really learn to be grateful for each day, no?
But the general formula for this university life is
1. First three weeks are relaxed with only lectures
2. Start readings and tutorials
3. Rush to complete research and essays
4. Mug for finals
5. Rinse and repeat
In between I suppose we have many localized activities such as staying back in school till unearthly hours, occasional boozing and pub-crawling, hanging out with great company, etc.
I think despite the Ups and Downs of this semester I am very grateful for it! I made plenty of new friends, some of whom I can imagine keeping in contact when I am old and have greying hair. I too tried numerous things I have never imagined myself doing, and intending to try many more; there’s still a great number of things left to do on that bucket list of mine!
(via dorkvader)
I am anticipating all the really horrid papers I might have to mark next time. This ought to come in handy.
(via dorkvader)
I am reminded of Serene telling me how someone put a card with 2 cute figures into her friend’s bag. On the card, one of the figures was asking the other if he can know her better, followed by his number at the bottom.
Eulogy
One day when we are old and gone,
will memories once left behind
remain in frames and words and song
or drowned in wells of watered wine?
Remember not your hand in mine
nor soft your lips were to my touch,
and I shall do the same in kind:
memories often forget much.
The mind of Man is slow to keep
a joy precious before his sight,
till whence the time has come to sleep,
in dusk was dimmed his precious light.
How then shall I remember you
these thoughts of mine all fleeting fast?
Questions a heart already knew,
in Love then shall you always last.
<3s Yuko Takeuchi. Asian all the way!
