Spore

SPOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Gid you have brought my productivity to ruin

Damnit why the hell is hard mode actually difficult I swear I'm doing something wrong here >_>

And it doesn't help that I needed Godwin to help me handle the creator after a while because I was laughing too hard

WHY NOW AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH JY I swear I should've heeded your damn advice >_>

Life is going to be severely unproductive at this rate gg

Addendum: WHAT THE HELL IS AN EPIC MOO MOO AND WHY DOES IT STOMP ON ME WHEN I TRY TO SOCIALIZE WITH OTHER SPECIES CURSE YOUR KIND DAMNIT

The Conversation at The End of The World

I looked at the world around me. It was all a blur; I'd just woken up from what seemed a very deep sleep. Only when my eyes focused on the environment around me did I realize how different everything was.

"What happened?" I say to myself. It's hard to take all this in when you barely wake up, and that's ignoring the fact that neither coffee nor water were anywhere in sight.

"Well, let's just say a lot, shall we? Though I'm quite surprised you actually woke up." I turned to my right. There, a lady sat on a white plastic chair, drinking tea with an English tea set - the few visible remnants of any civilization in the midst of the ruin. It was amazing how someone like that who would have seemed normal usually now seemed so alien in the current environment.

Who was this person? Obviously she's been awake longer than I have, or she'd be freaked out too. The ruin extends for miles; the place here gives a far-reaching view of the entire landscape. Has she been taking care of me all this time? How long have I been asleep?

"What's going on?" Precisely what I was thinking. "...is what you're probably thinking right now, isn't it." Right as hell about that. "Well, it's a long story. One that's hard to begin, too. And personally? I'm too lazy to answer all your questions, though I imagine you'd really need to have every one of them heard out. Well, I guess I haven't a choice, have I? Go ahead and ask me anything."

"Well, firstly then. Who're you?"

"Lazy to answer. Next." I stared at her. "What? I don't feel like answering that right now. Ask me something else."

"Fine, then. What happened to this place?"

"You mean the world, actually. Well, it's as you see it - complete desolation. Terrible stuff, really. This is what happens when people seek too much, you get what I mean?" I didn't get a single thing out of that. Seeking?

"Not really."

"Figures, you've been asleep rather long. Now where do I start?" she thought to herself for a while. "Ah, I got the word," and sipped on her tea. "Idealism."

"Still don't get it."

"Knew it. Ever thought of a world government? The ideal of uniting everything under the sky? Eliminating transnational war as we currently know it? Wonderful ideals, aren't they? That's what those superpowers thought. Ideals, they sure are. You know, you should get up and come over here. It helps to walk around instead of just sitting over there in your bed, yeah? Come on, there's a spare chair for you. Not many sit on these nowadays." It was suprisingly hard to walk, despite the short distance. I sat down on the chair opposite hers and rested my elbows on the table.

"Anyway, as I was saying. Ideals are good, aren't they? But the execution was terrible. Countries started arguing on who would make the World Committee. Soon enough there was war all around the world. Some countries got a bit too into it, and I suppose that's the way the cookie crumbles, huh. Though you'd be hard pressed to find any nowadays." I just sat there for a while. It was quite a bit to take in suddenly. All I remember was that the world wasn't like this. Then, she looked me in the face and asked me something instead.

"Before I continue, by the way, I need to ask you something. Do you remember who you are? It really has been quite some time since you woke up, after all."

I didn't. Why? Now I had questions about myself in addition to questions about her. Perhaps I'd just taken it for granted that I would've known everything about myself and never considered that I'd have my self disappearing along with the world.

"...unfortunately I don't. I'm not sure why either. Amnesia? That's my best guess. All I remember right now is that the world was completely different." She sighed.

"Good enough. If it helps, I know your name is Aleister. Should be, at least. I can't guarantee anything. How about a cup of tea? Can't say that it's as good as before, but I doubt you would remember trivial things like the taste of English tea." I helped myself to a cup. You wouldn't have needed any memory to know that tea probably tasted better in the past. It would've came as a natural guess, at least that was what I thought drinking it. She seemed to have grown an acquired taste for it, though. But why did it taste familiar?

"I'll trust you have a good reason to say that. The tea's fine as it is. The taste feels familiar, though. Can't say why."

"Good to know; I was hoping you'd like it. Well, now that my question's been answered, do you have any other questions for me?"

I had to ask this one. "How long have you been watching over me?"

"Lazy to answer. Next." Not the most sociable lady, is she.

"You're not the most sociable lady, are you?" Yes, I suppose I do like speaking my thoughts.

"You find a sociable person in such a time. Do you have any idea how long it has been since I've made any conversation with another person? Bear with me for now if I do like to keep to myself a bit." If? "I'm sorry though. Keep talking. It's been so long. Sometimes I think I'd go mute." Admittedly, she had a point. She continued, "You know, Aleister, what does it feel like to be at the end of the world? How should a conversation in this age and era go? I don't know, Aleister. It's just been so long. How's the day? Fine weather, isn't it? Whatcha going to do later? Anything new?"

"Ok, cut it out, Miss. It's freaky. I don't get any of this."

"Yet you're so calm already. You were probably those kind of people who would've been calm in any kind of situation, don't you think?"

"Perhaps."

"The kind that would get the world destroyed." What?

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. Do you want another cup of tea, Aleister? It's pretty good. Also, it's rather late right now, so if you don't feel like asking anything else or having any more tea I'll excuse myself and rest for the night. "

"I'll refrain from the tea, thank you very much. Could I ask one last question before you sleep, then?" Sure thing, she said. "What's your name? You don't need to tell me who you are exactly, but I at least need something to call you by, don't I?"

"...true." She looked at me for a while. "The name's Grace Mary Elizabeth. Just call me by any of them."

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This is going to be so insanely long. gg

The End of Y5

Karaoke over, Phys Oly over, results back, Dean's lists gone, focus camps avoided, school year's come and nearly gone, and life's continued once again.

Let's go through that slowly, shall we.

Karaoke was rather fun. There's this thing about standing on stage and performing. Quite funny, though. When I was standing up there and singing I suddenly realized that the auditorium was tiny. That there were so few people in comparison to my imagination. That ever getting nervous over such a small group of people was sheer folly on my part.

The bugger monitor though. The temptress >_> Made me look that way to look at lyrics that I'd memorized over and over again. Haiz >_>

It's quite scary how the show must go on. When I heard the clanging noise of metal behind me and a bunch of laughter in front of me, when I suddenly realized that the judge in the center was someone from church, when I looked at Dr. Ong with his 'like, whoa' face, and on and on. The show just keeps progressing.

Ah well, second is second and all's fine and over. Who out there will live and die with me? (terribad unpoetic translations ftl)

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Physics Olympiad, gosh that was terrible. Hui Jun says that he's probably the worst in our group. Personally I think that honour should go to Michael and I, >_> but then again the 3 of us are like some terribad trio or whatnot. It's not hard to convince us that we're terrible people at these kinda stuff >_>

Bad paper is bad zzz. 3/10 is terribad zzz. That's all there is to say zzz.

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Results have been gone through already. 38 without getting into any Dean's List is terribad. Curse you Levin Jarrel Johnny JK and anyone with Dean's List. CURSE YE ALL.

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There was supposed to be another story before this, but it's taking darn long to write. Bugger that too. It's hard to write these days.

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The school year doesn't feel like it's gone. It doesn't feel like it's ended properly. Maybe because it hasn't really ended, and in some senses that's true. But I can't really feel anything about Y5 coming by so quickly. It's just... it. That's all there was to it, and that's all there ever will be to it. There never was a closure, there never meant to have a closure, and there never will be a closure.

It's just all been a blur, running by the year so fast. Work, IAs, Olympiads, Exams, Kendo, Jap, Routines, Routines, Routines - that's all the year has been for me. Is it regretful? Somewhat. Was it inevitable? Who knows.

Sometimes it just feels like there's still so much to this year left to do. No doubt there're still stuff left to clear, but it's as if I'm in denial, always thinking that there's still more left. More, and more, and more. But the year'll end, just like that, and I'd have accomplished hardly anything.

A classmate once commented that it seemed as if I had everything in my life under control.

What a lie.

Sirty-Ate

"Sirty-ate-fiftee" but Russell Peters said thirty four. In a sense it's better.

Can't say I'm unhappy about my overall grades, but I'm still a perfectionist. A 5's a failure as any. That said, 7 for English and Econs are good. At least I'm relatively thankful for those. >_>

Ah well, shan't talk too much on this. I've been buggered around by others for being emo, so. >_>

Reprieve

It's a bit ironic that the main purpose of resting was to go to school to do EE and go for Physics/Chem Oly lessons. Well, it's not as if I've the money and energy to get out every day anyway.

The new anime season is pretty scary. Following 5 series already, potentially growing to 9 or even more. >_> It's as if all the good stuff decided to appear all at once. And too much of a good thing is still a bad thing. Ah well >_>

On another note, finding nice chinese songs has never been as painful a process as has ever been. >_> Listening to music shall eternally be a greater pleasure than singing it proceeding such experiences.

Haunted by the past

It just has to be such that when I make a statement saying that something wasn't nearly as painful as I originally had thought it out to be that I have to get proven wrong in annoying ways.

I dreamt of a bunch of stuff. I dreamt of the past, the present and the future. I woke up.

It's painful how your past can haunt your present and future.

A Story, A Riddle, A Tragedy.

The children gathered around the storyteller around the park bench - a kind-hearted man amongst a crowd of impressionable minds. The murmers and chatters of friends showing each other new toys their parents got for them, bugs they caught, flowers they picked, or the like. Some looked at the storyteller, his eyes following the words he wrote into a small pocket book. Some wondered what those words contained. His next story? The message to life? A great treasure beyond the horizon?

The light slap of pages closing upon each other, and the crowd instinctively turns to the leader, putting the pocket-book back where it belongs and ready to speak to the children.

"What story are you going to tell us today, Mr. Storyteller?" and the storyteller smiled to the children, who in turn smiled back to him.

"Today's a special day, kids. I'm going to tell more than just a story. Today's going to be... a riddle." a few kids looked around, confused, asking their friends what a 'riddle' was. Some stared blankly at the storyteller. But for the most of it, a general air of excitement lay in the air. Everyone wanted to hear a bit more about this 'riddle' of his.

And the storyteller began.

"There was once an old man who had close to everything. Everything he wanted, he had." The children gasped.

"Did he have a big house?" "Did he have lots of money?" "Did he have a huge swimming pool?" "Did he have his own pirate ship?" "Did he have a space station?" "Does he own the Empire State Building?"

"Well, maybe not the Empire State Building, but he still had close to everything, kids. Money, health, status, lots of cool stuff, you name it, he'll have most of it." the storyteller waited for the awe to die down a little before he continued.

"The maids always found him to be a cheerful man, smiling each and every day, and the gardeners always talked about how the flowers in his garden bloomed more beautifully than anywhere else, as if his happiness had spread over to them. His children, of course, were glad for their father - grandfather for some, of course - who wouldn't, if their father or grandfather were such a happy person?" the children seemed happy too, as if the old man's happiness had spread from the storyteller onto them as well.

"The old man's friends always came over and had a cup of tea every once in a while. They would talk for hours over various things, but the conversations would always end with the old man's hearty laughter and the same reply: Come again sometime soon, won't ya, old pal? And every now and then they would come over for a good chat or two." the kids listened in silence, half unable to comprehend what it would be like and half thinking to themselves how nice it was.

One of the children on the right raised his hands. "Mr. Storyteller!"

The storyteller looked at him and smiled. "Yes?"

"Do his friends smile a lot too?"

"Of course! You would smile too if you had such a wonderful friend at such an age, my boy." and the storyteller continued his story.

"But one day, the gardeners noticed that on the old man's morning walks throughout the garden he was no longer as lively as he usually was. The maids realized that the old man no longer had the radiant smile he used to bear had disappeared. And his friends felt that the old man no longer had his hearty laughter when talking to them, and his usual ending statement was longer as energetic as usual."

Another child, feeling concerned for the old man, raised up his hand. "What happened, Mr. Storyteller?" the kids looked up at the storyteller with expectant eyes, as if he were about to enlighten them immediately.

"Who knows? But the old man's grandchildren were worried for him. So one of them went up to the old man and asked him this: 'Old man, is there something that you're troubled by?' and the old man said back to them, 'Yes, my dears, I am troubled by something.'"

"What was he troubled by, Mr. Storyteller?" some kids were more eager than the storyteller had originally expected, and had to be hushed down lightly. He signalled to a pair of kids who were making more noise than usual to keep quiet, and continued his story.

"But the old man never told the kids what he was troubled by, so the kids were confused. What could the old man be troubled by? Was it that autumn was coming and the flowers would wilt? Was it that the house was no longer as clean as it was before? Was it that a friend of his had passed away? It could not have been any - he wasn't the kind to grow that sad over autumn, the house was as clean as ever, and the kids knew every friend of their grandfather and would've known immediately if any of them had moved on." the kids looked befuddled now. What could have kept the old man so troubled?

The storyteller smiled and continued. "So the children continued guessing as to what could have made the old man feel so sad. But no one ever came up with a good answer. so they decided to ask their parents instead. After all, the adults should know better, said the oldest of the kids, and the rest of his siblings and cousins followed. And the adults wondered what was wrong that could have made the old man feel so sad. They went to the old man, and asked, 'father, is there something wrong?', hoping he would give a different reply than with the children. But the old man said to them, 'No, my dears, there is nothing wrong.' Now both the children and the adults were confused. How could he be troubled if there were nothing wrong?" the kids looked just as troubled as the old man's grandchildren would have been, the storyteller thought to himself, and continued.

"The parents were better than their children, of course. They came up with a hypothesis as to why the old man was feeling so down." And now a few kids were raising their hands.

"Mr. Storyteller, what's a hypothesis?" Some others nodded in agreement, wanting to find out the meaning of that. The storyteller laughed, realizing his mistake.

"Haha, I'm sorry, everyone. It's kind of like guessing. Take it that way." a few hands went down, but a good number still had their hands up.

"So what was it that they guessed, Mr. Storyteller?"
"Is this the riddle, Mr. Storyteller?"
"Why was the old man so sad, Mr. Storyteller?"

"Well, I'll be getting to all of that soon, so sit back and relax." and after seeing the hands go down one by one, the storyteller continued with the story.

"The first thing they thought was, maybe it wasn't that the old man had something wrong in his life, but maybe it was that he was missing something from his life! It wasn't a problem of what he had that was bad, it was a problem of what he didn't have!" ...and a short pause to calm the gasps of the children who realized the genius in the parent's revelation.

"So the grandchildren's parents went to the old man and asked him, 'father, is there something missing in your life?' To which the old man replied, 'Yes there is, my dears'. And the parents knew they were on the right track. He was lacking something after all!" everyone looked excited. was the old man going to be happy once they find what he was missing in his life?

"But the problem only began from there. What could it have been that the old man was lacking? The parents were all confused as well. What do you kids think?"

"Maybe he didn't have enough money, Mr. Storyteller!" The storyteller just smiled back at him.

"And that was what one of the parents thought. But what could they have possibly done in that case? They were still stumped, so they thought to themselves: Perhaps there might be something else which was missing from his life." and another answer came from the audience.

"Maybe he didn't have enough friends, Mr. Storyteller!"

"And that was what another one of the parents thought. Maybe the old man wanted to have all his friends together instead of just talking to one or two of them. Maybe he wanted to see all his old friends, each and every single one of them. And then one of the grandchildren came up with a brilliant idea." the kids started to move closer, wanting to hear about the geniosity of the grandchild. The storyteller waited for a moment.

"Why not hold the largest, grandest, most majestic, most extravagant, most amazing and wonderful, most magnificent party for the old man? His birthday was coming up, and they had the money to pull off such a huge event. So on that day, the old man's children went and looked for every single person who was a friend of the old man. They brought forth the best food, the best drinks, and got the entire mansion pristine clean to the utmost degree for this very event."

One of the kids could barely control his excitement. "How was it, Mr. Storyteller? Was he happy in the end?"

"That comes soon, kid. The entire mansion was a wonderful place to be that night; after all, it was the biggest banquet in the whole town! The old man saw every friend of his come along just to celebrate his birthday. And he smiled. Everyone was happy, especially the children. The old man had finally smiled after a long time." the kids seemed happy, the storyteller thought to himself.

"But that night, after every guest had left the old man's mansion, one of the grandchildren heard the old man crying to himself at night. What went wrong? The child thought to himself. Did we make him sad by holding the party? Did we do something bad to him? Did something go wrong? What happened?" and the storyteller was sure every child there was thinking the exact same thing right then and there. He noticed that the children's faces seemed rather concerned, but he had to continue anyway.

"The child went into the old man's room and asked him directly. 'Grandpa, why are you crying? Did we do something wrong today?' and the old man smiled at the child, tears still flowing from his eyes."

"What did he say, Mr. Storyteller?"

"Well, the old man said back to the child, 'You didn't do anything wrong today, child. But as happy as I am today to see all my friends together, I realize even more that there is something that I no longer have.' The child was confused, of course. What was that something he didn't have? Was it money? Certainly not, he was as rich a man as many could only hope for. Was it friends? How could it be? Every last friend of his just came over to the mansion to celebrate today. Was it his health and well-being? He was well for someone his age, and he was pretty healthy anyway, the child thought. What do you think?" Silence from the crowd.

And no one figured out the riddle, the storyteller thought to himself, until someone raised her hand and asked.

"Mr. Storyteller, was love missing from his life?"

The storyteller chuckled to himself lightly, and replied "Perhaps it may be, lil' girl. Perhaps it may be. But the old man told the child to return to his room as he was going to sleep soon, and the child returned to his room, not understanding what it was that the old man was missing from his life." a slight murmur, before silence amongst the crowd. The storyteller waited for a moment of silence before he continued his story.

"The next day, the old man never woke up. The entire family was shocked to see him go so suddenly, especially after such a wonderful party. Everyone was in tears - the maids, the gardeners, the chefs, the butlers, the children, and the grandchildren. The child who had went into the old man's room the night before ran to the same room immediately, and in his tears wondered to himself what it was the old man was missing in his life right up till his last day." the children were resisting the urge to sob and cry, the storyteller noted. Perhaps I should wait? He thought. But the story must go on.

"Two days later, the funeral processing took place. The child stayed in his room while everyone went out for the wake - the funeral service, for those who don't know. And when the house was completely empty the child ran over to the old man's room again, and searched around. Perhaps there was a clue to what was missing, he thought, and searched high and low for anything that the old man left behind as a clue or a mark. And in the corner of the old man's treasured drawer the child found a piece of paper."

"What was on it, Mr. Storyteller? Tell us!" the storyteller waited for silence again before continuing.

"On that piece of paper were the following words:

I find myself with money, with friends, with welfare and health. Yet I find that with each passing day I have less and less of it to spare. Nothing I have can compare to the sadness I feel with each passing day for whatever I have left is slowly going away. I do not have much left" and many children raised up their hands.

"But what is it, Mr. Storyteller? I don't understand!" the rest nodded in unison.

"And that is the riddle to solve, everyone. The story has now come to a close." amidst complaints and queries the crowd slowly disappeared back as children returned back home after a long story.

In the empty, silent park, the storyteller took out his pocket-book again, and turned to the very front page. On that page lay a piece of yellowed, cracked piece of parchment with faded words on it. As the storyteller took out his pen he had a terrible cough, and covered his mouth so to make sure no one would notice. He looked at his right hand, now stained red, and stared at it for a while before he took his pen and wrote on the other side of the parchment.

"Neither do I."

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That was surprisingly long and surprisingly painless to write.

The End of 17th Exams

Man, this blog is dead.

Ah well.

Exams ending, Kendo beginner class ending, Jap lessons ending, it's been the first closures to an amazingly hectic year thus far. Plans for what's to come are of course already underway, though I can't deny that the melancholy that comes with certain phases in my life fading away into memories of the past bogs me down every now and then.

The exams have been pretty much the same ordeal they have been earlier on - trying to get into the dean's list for some, trying to avoid focus camp for others, and trying to avoid having to retain classes for one year for some. It's not always smooth sailing, of course, but I suppose I've done relatively fine. Of course it's more of a matter of whether I'll end up getting what I got for midyears again - always the jack and never the ace. Genius? What a mockery. There's never been anything in it. Magic never was magic - just a bunch of tricks and illusions. What genetic breed was there in it? A bunch of excuses for never seeing past the illusions is all that the praise will ever amount to.

The beginning of kendo as a senior is good, though personally I'd have preferred to be a beginner for longer. Well, let's just see how it turns out. I'm rather annoyed by the tournament and JLPT being on the same day though. Guess you really can't have both ends of the stick at once, huh.

It was a rather startling realization when Suresh sensei said that this was the first time him and Joyce ever headed a beginner class, considering Chan sensei's words about Suresh being a good sensei and all that. I guess there's always a first time for everyone, beginner or not, huh. I like the group, though. Hard work is good for the soul in any case.

Jap... lingering feelings, I guess. Things that could've been done better, things that could've been done, times that just don't get their full appreciation until everything's almost over and done with. It's a place like most other places one spends time with - a place of memories, fondness and scars. But more importantly, it's the first place of many that I'm going to have to part with eventually.

I wonder if every other place will feel like this.

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A story soon on a riddle last year given to a cross-missing star.

愛しているという声が　泣いているように聞こえた
心がいつか嘘を　つくのを　僕はどこかで知っていたの