Credula Res Amore Est

Love is a credulous thing - Ovid


The title implies. XD

Today's Borderlands Gun

This is a beaut. If you want to know why, it's because this is actually a Legendary machine gun, the Draco. It has a high incendiary chance and the fact it boasts one of the largest ammo capacities among the other machine gun models found. A beautiful thing, it is. Me likey. XD

Updates

Having a session today with a friend of mine. Hopefully I can settle a few problems in one go.

It all depends on HER. XD

Today's Borderlands Gun

Here we have the awesome Skullmasher. You'd might think it won't do much, but look at the x7. With this baby, you have seven shrapnel in one accurate shot. SEVEN bullets in one go! Do the math and you'll get an awesome number! AND if you land a Critical Hit on the enemy you get an even higher number! Whoa!

Hic Puer Est Stultissimus Omnium!

This boy is the stupidest of all!

It could very well mean me. XD

Gaudeamus Igitur (Iuvenes Dum Sumus)

Therefore, let us rejoice. (while we are young)

Indeed. We're still young and free and able to do what we love to do. Except those that are against the norms, of course.

Shouldn't we live to the fullest? Shouldn't we enjoy every passing day with nothing but feelings of fun and joy? Isn't that what being a teen is about?

Sigh.

Such is Life. There doesn't seem to be that kind of joy around anymore.

Ah. Life is so drab sometimes.

More Updates

Sigh. Boring day in the lab.

Nothing much but assignments to do. Oh well, it's better than nothing.

Eagerly anticipating the wushu session after 2pm. Oh boy, another hour of strenuous exercising and torment. But I love every bit of it! For now that is. Hmm.

Having quite a mental block in my head over lots of things. Sigh, where am I getting to now?

I hope I don't end up like ol' Rick. Ahem. XD

Ciao for now, readers.

Today's Borderlands Gun

Here is a neat sniper rifle - hitting an enemy with this allows you to leech some life from them to you. Awesome, huh? This is a mission-drop-only item, where you can only gain this from killing the target required to complete the level. It may not be much in comparison to other better sniper rifles out there, but it's still a Good Touch nevertheless.

Updates

Had a really long phtoshooting session for the Prefects earlier on. Took a heck load of time till I missed out on IT. Wonder why  my code doesn't work. Hmm.

Oh, looks like I have a visitor. Excuse me. XD

Today's Borderlands Gun

Here we have a really nice weapon. The red text is quite something, ennit? With high damage, good fire rate and accuracy, this is a nifty weapon to have if you prefer Combat Rifles. If you give yourself a Rifleman Class Mod with increased damage then you'd find yourself sticking to this for a LONG time. It doth work, trusteth me.

Deus Vobiscum

God be with you.

I don't know if you'll read this, or if you know it's for you, but here it is and I mean what I say.

Too long have I drowned in misery. Too long have I downed myself just so I can get out of this situation. But I guess it has to be time that I end this problem.

I admit I've been pining for you for quite a while. Well, not just pining I'd say. Indeed, such feelings are hard to deny. But in the end, love is all about getting a response: whether it be a yes or no, love can only be found out from that point. And trust me, I'm a coward when it comes to these things.

How do I know if it's real? How will I know it's not a fleeting moment of an infatuation? How will I know what's next? I can never ask myself these questions, nor solve them with a good answer. Sure, you know I'm a great person to talk to (am I?) but I guess I can't talk to myself about my problems.

If you feel that this is a premature statement, I can explain. I don't feel I should belong in your life. If ever I do end up in it. But I digress. It's probably better if I just stop thinking of you before I lose my mind and end up in an asylum. And no, it's not your fault at all.

It was I who had fell for you, and I guess that's the risk I took. As much as I initially thought we could be together in the end, eventually this idea began to look like a dream. Thus I've come to the conclusion that this has to end. And so I'll end it.

The title of this post is aptly named, because that's what I wish for you. Good luck.

Deo Volente

God willing.

Are guys really such jerks? I mean, sure, many are those who behave... strangely. Indeed, it cannot be denied that guys can't help but just look (or worse, stare) at women (or, worse yet, a part of their anatomy). And yes, most of us (me included) are addicted to games that involve violence.

So do these reasons mean that we're jerks?

For the first two only, in my opinion. Those kind of people deserve no better fate than death. Well, except the unfortunate ones like those who've lost their minds or something.

Am I being biased?

I am a guy. I do know what it's like to get these kind of feelings or act in such behavior. So what of it? Why this? I dunno. These are only my thoughts, anyways. I'm no professional to comment, just say them out.

Some way or another we have to get used to the fact we're guys. Hell, just so long as such behavior doesn't define us!

Sigh.

God willing, we can change this perception problem.

Updates

Post-AGM, things have begun to start looking.... unpredictable.

Why so?

The discontent among the Prefects are rather... disturbing. Everyone has something to say about the whole fiasco.

Me, I say let them have their talk. I'd prefer to leave it be, until of course crap hits the fan. That's when things will turn ugly.

I hope not.

Today's Borderlands Gun

This is currently one of my favourites. With a clip this big, plus my class skill that increases the magazine capacity by 60 percent, it's a deadly weapon! I mean, plus its accuracy and the damage and you have a portable killer! Yowza!

Today's Borderlands Gun

This looks like an ordinary shotgun. But if you look at the text, you'd notice it says: "Holy crap! It shoots rockets!". Yes, it does. Terribly. The name kinda implies. This is the kind of shotgun one should avoid, unless you're into explosives. That's why the damage is so freaking high! Unfortunately, this also means it doesn't fire buckshot. You gotta take the bad with the good.

For more guns and info, go forth to the Borderlands Wiki. And yeah, I don't have the link. Yet.

Today's Borderlands Gun

The low-level but magnificent 10010 Cannon. An Eridian weapon, encountering one isn't an easy task.
Nevertheless, as much as it boasts high damage it's got a seriously low fire rate and it doesn't always deals THAT much damage. More of a collector's item, I'd say.

Check out the Borderlands Wiki to see many other weapons of note. All these on my blog are obtained from playing the game. Cheers!

Updates

Just recovered from a severe bout of diarrhea. Yeah, I can tell you it sucks. I didn't enjoy every moment of it. But at least I was asleep most of the time.

OK, lots of things happened out in school in my absence. Seriously, A LOT!

I can't continue now. School's about to end, and I don't have loads of time. Wait for my next post!

Updates

Hanging out with Thomas and Chan at JJ's CC. Will post something new later in the coming days.

Heh!

Amor Caecus Est

Love is blind.

Indeed it is. Hell, I'll admit it, I've had myself in situations like so. And honestly, I don't understand why. Since I was young I have always told myself that love can wait - study first! get good grades! Get a life!

And the next thing I know I fell for someone.

That was back in 2008, Form Four year.

It.... didn't end well.

Lesson learned, move on, that's what I told myself. And what do you know - the next thing that happened was Round Two.

That was in 2009. It was... OK. It didn't work out but we're still pals at least (unlike the previous one) and we're still in touch.

Shit can't get any worse can it? Thankfully, NO. I'm easily settling in without any of these nagging worries chewing at the tip of my mind. For now, studies await!

Ooh, and Dawn Of War II too! XD

The Cradle

This is an original short story by a friend of my brother's. Hope you like it.

The city is used to strangeness. The bizarre is the mortar that binds it together. Its people are a hardy sort. In a world where the dead don’t stay buried, they need to be. It hardly counts as superstition when you know what‘s out there, in the darkness, just waiting for a chance to make you join it.

Even in the city, no one loiters to long in the shadow of one particular building, which hangs of the old blocks like some facial canker. The Cradle. If there is one way of cramming more misery into one building’s history, I can’t think of it.

The Cradle’s history is a scream, stretched out through time.

They say that it used to be that sad institute for lost children, an orphanage. It’s also said that it was that sad institute for lost adults, an asylum. What they didn’t say is that during its latter days it was both at once. While safer inmates were kept in the paupers ward towards the front of the building, the murderously insane – of which, at the Cradle’s demise, there were nine – were kept in the White Hall ward, towards the rear, with heavy lockdown doors between them and the rest of civilization. Near them, the orphans, in the Nursery tower. At the buildings heart, looking over all was the Staff tower, the stronghold of the lawmakers. Children and the insane, under lock and key of nurses and doctors. Authority and oppression bound together, existing as one.

The tale of the Cradle rests on two children – a boy and a girl. The boy, ran away, grew up, found redemption, on the streets, and there became known as the fanatical hunter of shadows. The girl never got a chance to grow up at all.

The doctors had strict rules, which the matrons were to follow. Obvious rules, such as homicidal patients and the children weren’t to mix. However, rules in a madhouse tend to err, so it came to pass that the girl found herself sitting while having her portrait painted by the patient in Cell 5, known as The Watcher. He was brought to the asylum after slaughtering his previous sitters because “they moved”. He then smeared his victim’s blood over each portrait’s face, in frustration at the lack of life in the final work. The girl was a good girl. She didn’t move at all. So she lived and The Watcher made the one perfect picture of his life.

No one is that lucky twice.

The Gray Lady of myth and nightmare came to the Cradle to find a body to use for her devilish schemes. Someone discarded already. Someone no one would miss. That is, an orphan. If the boy and the girl weren’t playing in the attic that day, maybe the Gray Lady would have chosen a different victim. Would the Cradle’s cry have been stifled early? Perhaps, perhaps not. We can only speculate as to the reasons why The Watcher was close enough to the murder scene to take the girls bloody tattered dress as a keepsake before anyone else arrived. Perhaps the murder he would eventually carry the blame for would have occurred anyway. The Cradle’s birth is rife with such sick irony.

Despite the boy’s testimony that some hag-like creature butchered his little friend, the material evidence pointed to the man locked in Cell 5. Extreme measures were called for, lobotomy. Or rather, all to common measures. The staff – when not experimenting with their weirder theories such as applying red-hot bars to bare skin or testing the outer limits of electrocution – turned to the doctors’ custom silver knives that could transmute a pest into a vegetable. The ‘result’ of which could be stored cheaply with the other trash in the pauper’s ward rather than the expensive White Hall. News spread that whatever made The Watcher himself would be sliced away in Treatment Room 2.

These words eventually reached the man who hid his shattered features behind a wax mask, Patient 1 – or ‘King No One’ as he was known among the inmates thanks to the script on his door. The fact that he was contained in the isolation chamber, at the top of an elevator shaft in the White Hall, wasn’t enough to separate him from the other patients. His poisonous whispers leaked out, fanning the flames of dissatisfaction. The Watcher was a popular madman. His fraternity owed him an attempt to stop this. After all, they could be next. Dissent sparked into a fiery riot. In an instant, the keys were with the patients. They were all free the gates were sealed, but most of the children and staff were inside, trapped and barricaded in their towers. At least the lucky ones were – those on the ground floor proved wet and scarlet sport for the rampaging White Hall inmates.

The midwife to the cradles true birth was the patient in Cell 9, The Moth. A pyromaniac, she was allowed to keep her tinderbox as part of her therapy. Now free, she had all the fuel she could wish for. She lit the matches, which reduced the Cradle to a skeleton of a building. First in her room. Then under the cover of riot urged on by King No One, the fires at the base of the Staff tower.

While the king discarded his wax mask, finally revealing his molten face, and led the dismemberment of the remaining staff, The Moth pulled up her chair at the foot of the staircase and stared into the inferno as men and women were reduced to soot and screams.

The flames swept up. The Nursery tower joined its sister in misery. The voices of boys and girls merged in an unholy choir, a shriek to empty skies. God was not there that day. The smoke rose to the havens blacking them out, forming a cloud of the remains of authority. Anything elevated was destroyed. All that remained was the base material.

The tortured voices were the Cradle’s birthing cry. The rising smoke its first breath. Born out of torture, oppression, murder and a history of weeping, this place was ‘alive’.

It pressed down upon the remaining inmates, who ruled the remains of the asylum under King No One’s malevolence. His kingdom couldn’t last, at least, in earthly terms. The doors were shut. There was no way out. The inmates sickened, withered and died.

This wasn’t the end.

The inmates rose from death, becoming puppets of the Cradle’s will and twitching in meaningless echoes of their past existence. Their bodies animated in a closed spasmodic loop for eternity, waiting for someone else to enter, to catch the Cradle’s attention, and so join its macabre dance.

They say its doors will open before you. They’ll seal behind you and as long as you live, it will never let you leave.

Even in the city, no one loiters to long in the shadow of one particular building, which hangs of the old blocks like some facial canker. The Cradle. If there is one way of cramming more misery into one building’s history, I can’t think of it.

Updates

An upcoming ICT event, photoshoots, classes, Drama Duty, homework like the MUET presentations and Dawn of War II.

It's gonna be one heck of a weekend.

Graviora Manent

Greater dangers await.

The road that lies ahead of us is not an easy one to tread. There will always be paths that only draw us into the fire even if we try to avoid it. We will be battered and bruisd, but that does not mean we should give up on everything we fought for. Inevitable as it may seem, only through faith, unity, courage and honor can we really push ourselves forwards.

It cannot be denied that the human will is as powerful as any battle tank manufactured. So long as it is used to the highest potential there is nothing that can prevent us from achieving almost anything. The naysayers may have their thoughts, but as the quote goes "No one can make you feel inferior unless you allow them to".

There can be no telling what we will face. There can be no denying that trouble is unavoidable. There can be no sure signs of denial by others who strive to stop us. But in the end, what counts is your willpower. So long as you believe you are justified in your judgment, and your rights are jeopardized by unscupulous parties, then you must remember not to stand down. Your rights are yours and yours alone, and you must never let them die and sink into the ground. Nobody can take that away from you.

Always have faith in yourself, stand shoulder to shoulder with your comrades and press onwards in your march.

A special something for the Prefects of SMI.

O Tempora, O Mores!

(Note: This is Latin for "Oh the times, oh the habits!" as quoted by Cicero)

Time has gone by so quickly. And so much has changed.

1. Firstly, my class has now 23 people after many of the others finally had their appeal to move to the Arts stream were approved. The original amount was about 33-ish, and the difference is quite big. It may not seem like much, but in the end, the class is so much less lively now.

I can't really say for sure how much of that energy is lost, but I only hope that we can move on from here. At least the former LSS3 people still remember their roots and their pals here. That's what counts.

I only hope they'll keep remembering that.

2. Ticket sales have been rather.... downcast. We haven't really sold a fortune yet, even though we've gone out to sell 'em for two days. Maybe there wasn't enough effort? I dunno. I think people nowadays aren't interested in watching these kind of plays. They have lots to do, after all, but even if they had the time they'd probably use it for other matters - like family outings.

At least donations were generous. =)

I extend my thanks to Rickleus, Nat/Sasori/EmiliaV, Munchkins, Christopher, Poh Yee, Jin Hwen and Sook Yeen for all their efforts in all the days we were out. Though we didn't get much , we had loads of fun doing it.

Whether it was exploring Greentown (that wasn't really a promising site) or navigating the corridors of SMC (M&M is solely responsible for trapping us there for hours!), nevertheless it was good stuff.

3. Work. Loads of work. I kid you not.

And I've been procrastinating most of the time. When the hell am I gonna finish 'em if I keep delaying? Probably never. Damnation.

Oh, and by the way, anybody who'd like a part time job or something? I usually do when I have time. Maybe you shoudl try it.

4. Forgot to mention my team didn't win in the Speaker's Forum. Double damn.

5. Why does it seem like people are on the brink of an emotional outburst? I had one just today 'cause of family matters, and believe me I feel like shit right now. Schoolmates seem to have tension welling up in their nerves too. I cannot fathom why, and whether I can answer it is a mystery to me.

I just have to wait and see.

6. The post ends here, unfortunately. I'll be posting pretty soon. Cheers!