Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Oh man. I just realised that Olivia Goldsmith, proud author some of the best novels such as First Wives Club, had actually passed on due to a blotched plastic surgery. Scary, and sad.

And speaking of which, a distant grand-aunt of mine(maternal) had recently passed on too. Its a pity that I wasn't close to her, but am going to pay my last respects, with my family, later. And then it suddenly hits you, that as cliched as it sounds; life is indeed fragile and precious. I begin to panic a little, when I calculate how much I've time I have to spend with loved ones and friends before I meet the Big Guy Up There. lol...

But we do what we all can I guess. coughMADMADPARTYcough// :P

When it rains, it certainly pours. The last few days saw nothing but me scurrying frantically for cover just when I thought it was once again safe to come out. Sky's being tempermental, and the streets are filled with uniformed students, heads bowed from the drizzle. Men and women briskly walking with a vivacious assortment of brollies. And the young babes, oblivious to all, in their light steps and prances on pools of a grayed sky.
But that's not saying that I hate the weather, I like sunny and rainy days equally. I think there's some sorta contemporary beauty about them. Just depends if one can look beyond dark clouds or the blinding light to see it.

And oh btw, Claire's latest entry has a somewhat nostalgic poem by Robert Frost that I really like. Please do check that out. :)

Ok. I think I just had enough of sentimentality on my side. Back to pragmatism and unromantic-ness; the week's flying past and I haven't even touched my TVRP book. Exams are next week, and countless pages to survive thru. *cringecringeCRINGE*

Let the mad rush begin.

Who needs love?