I am Charmaine and I like handmade cards.
I like the smell of rain and toddlers; sitting on a bus alone; and my squaddies.
I like people who keep the conversation going, and subtle anything.
I am curious, judgemental and bored/amused easily.

charmaynx@gmail.com

FIDELITY

as writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia

10:29:00 PM I wasn't paying very much attention to floorball some time ago. I vaguely remember that Jesslyn's balls went a little wayward and mine literally went off course because my mind was hooked on something.

An even longer while ago, I read this article on Warren Buffet. He amazingly lives without a handphone, nor a computer on his desk. Boy, he's the second richest man in the world.

Then I embarked on this train of thought which led me to many other complicated matters like Oxford school fees, reincarnation and my next big plan to convince my dad to sponsor Nineteen Minutes.

Short of calculating the 20% discount, JJ grinned evily at me from across the court and my brain had this sudden short circuit (not because of any particular passion -.-) due to something I remembered and it just kept going round in circles.

Im rather nerved about the 12:01AM event because I would then finally find out my utmost beloved character's whereabouts. Being the typical tattlebrain, I consider rather seriously, my purpose in life twenty years down the road.

I run up behind the grass patch to get the ball.

I believe we are all capable, being RVians. However, Freedom of Speech is something dished out, and pre-written with added epilogue for us by people of higher authority. Freedom of Speech is what we were promised when we turned integrated. (Or was it an illusion on my part?) Then why, are the topics we are allowed to form a perspective upon controlled by the school? On very few occasions when we manage to form a concrete point of view and present it to an audience, we are either marked down or penalised.

At this point in time, I miss the ball entirely.

Just when I decided SG was just a place to pick up skills from, Desmond comes jogging up to me with a emo look on his face.

"I'm so going to die in floorball," he sighs and runs back to his court.

I nodded at him, still stunned with the realisation that I really should have been looking at the needles before my feet instead of peering at inactive volcanoes sitting a mile away.