I LOVE WALL•E!
And I found this too:
haha
I wanna watch it again :)
29.8.08
16.8.08
Hm.
I wonder if...
Nah, don't think so :)
I see we like stories:
A buffet spread, more sumptuous than any he had ever seen in his short short life. As he gazes at the wonderful gastronomic delights before him, he thinks to himself: what do I try first?
The Soup? (a creamy caress of one's palate)
The selection of roast meat? (tantalizingly tender)
Dessert? (sinfully sweet)
As he glances around the room, the aroma of the place overwhelming his senses, he sees something out of the corner of his eye. Something extraordinary. His gaze settles upon it and slowly, he advances.
A predator in an Air-conditioned, 5-star rated, World-renowned, with-Monet-hanging-on-the-walls, jungle.
Silently.
Stalking.
His.
Prey.
And just as he reaches for it, he realises, too late, that it was far too soon to taste it, much less even consider consuming it. Slowly, he moves his hand away. But his desire for it does not leave quite as quickly as his appetite.
A drink might do me good, he thinks to himself.
He saunters over to the beverage section.
All he gets is a glass of ice-cold water.
And as he drinks deeply from the liquid of life, he muses amusedly to himself. He would have preferred Tea, or maybe Coffee. He would even have settled for a glass of F & N.
Ah well.
And as he drinks, his thoughts wander back to that which he had coveted just minutes ago. At that exact moment, he perceives someone else, someone far more worthy, lift it (without effort, I might add) and place it on his plate. Who thereafter proceeds to walk off coolly and calmly to rejoin his friends at the table at the far end of the room.
He perceives all this, and, with a tinge of dismay and disappointment (only a tinge), he begins to slip into a new-found awareness of his surroundings. No longer does the pervasive fragrance of the food overpower him. He realises that the music playing in the background is a particularly lively Vivaldi; he is faintly irritated by its sprightly tune. He begins to realise that the place is particularly crowded tonight, with a multitude of individuals milling about, looking for something to fill their stomachs with. He is slightly revolted by the rotund man stuffing his face with roast duck. He is mildly disgusted by the lean lady with the Prada purse piling her plate with poached pear.
He is somewhat jealous of the man who got what he had so craved. Well, not really jealous per se, but it bugs him.
He walks out of the building, that feeling slowly, but surely, fading. Every step away from it makes him feel free, un-fettered by mortal wants.
He walks past a flock of birds, a little too close, and the startled animals take off into the steadily darkening dusk. In the dark he can't make out what kind of birds they are. Probably pigeons.
Already, his appetite is beginning to return.
I never said it would be well written...
I wonder if...
Nah, don't think so :)
I see we like stories:
A buffet spread, more sumptuous than any he had ever seen in his short short life. As he gazes at the wonderful gastronomic delights before him, he thinks to himself: what do I try first?
The Soup? (a creamy caress of one's palate)
The selection of roast meat? (tantalizingly tender)
Dessert? (sinfully sweet)
As he glances around the room, the aroma of the place overwhelming his senses, he sees something out of the corner of his eye. Something extraordinary. His gaze settles upon it and slowly, he advances.
A predator in an Air-conditioned, 5-star rated, World-renowned, with-Monet-hanging-on-the-walls, jungle.
Silently.
Stalking.
His.
Prey.
And just as he reaches for it, he realises, too late, that it was far too soon to taste it, much less even consider consuming it. Slowly, he moves his hand away. But his desire for it does not leave quite as quickly as his appetite.
A drink might do me good, he thinks to himself.
He saunters over to the beverage section.
All he gets is a glass of ice-cold water.
And as he drinks deeply from the liquid of life, he muses amusedly to himself. He would have preferred Tea, or maybe Coffee. He would even have settled for a glass of F & N.
Ah well.
And as he drinks, his thoughts wander back to that which he had coveted just minutes ago. At that exact moment, he perceives someone else, someone far more worthy, lift it (without effort, I might add) and place it on his plate. Who thereafter proceeds to walk off coolly and calmly to rejoin his friends at the table at the far end of the room.
He perceives all this, and, with a tinge of dismay and disappointment (only a tinge), he begins to slip into a new-found awareness of his surroundings. No longer does the pervasive fragrance of the food overpower him. He realises that the music playing in the background is a particularly lively Vivaldi; he is faintly irritated by its sprightly tune. He begins to realise that the place is particularly crowded tonight, with a multitude of individuals milling about, looking for something to fill their stomachs with. He is slightly revolted by the rotund man stuffing his face with roast duck. He is mildly disgusted by the lean lady with the Prada purse piling her plate with poached pear.
He is somewhat jealous of the man who got what he had so craved. Well, not really jealous per se, but it bugs him.
He walks out of the building, that feeling slowly, but surely, fading. Every step away from it makes him feel free, un-fettered by mortal wants.
He walks past a flock of birds, a little too close, and the startled animals take off into the steadily darkening dusk. In the dark he can't make out what kind of birds they are. Probably pigeons.
Already, his appetite is beginning to return.
I never said it would be well written...
10.8.08
Pencil? Check.
Paper? Check.
Dictionary? Check.
Chinese Oral next week? Check.
As Priscilla Ahn's lovely voice wafts through the room,
I sit down
and Begin...
...to Procrastinate.
Oh, darnit.
Paper? Check.
Dictionary? Check.
Chinese Oral next week? Check.
As Priscilla Ahn's lovely voice wafts through the room,
I sit down
and Begin...
...to Procrastinate.
Oh, darnit.