rowlandanthonyimperial
Monday, December 31, 2007
20:27
Something to ponder.
Hear this, all you peoples;listen, all who live in this world,both low and high, rich and poor alike:My mouth will speak words of wisdom;the utterance from my heart will give understanding.I will turn my ear to a proverb;with the harp I will expound my riddle:Why should I fear when evil days come,when wicked deceivers surround me-those who trust in their wealthand boast of their great riches?No man can redeem the life of anotheror give to God a ransom for him-the ransom for a life is costly,no payment is ever enough-that he should live on foreverand not see decay.For all can see that wise men die;the foolish and the senseless alike perishand leave their wealth to others.Their tombs will remain their houses forever,their dwellings for endless generations,though they had named lands after themselves.But man, despite his riches, does not endure;he is like the beasts that perish.This is the fate of those who trust in themselves,and of their followers, who approve their sayings.Like sheep they are destined for the graveand death will feed on them.The upright will rule over them in the morning;their forms will decay in the grave,far from their princely mansions.But God will redeem my life from the grave;He will surely take me to himself.Do not be overawed, when a man grows rich,when the splendour of his house increases;For he will take nothing with him when he dies,his spledour will not descend with him.Though while he lived he counted himself blessed-and men praise you when you prosper-he will join the generation of his fathers,who will never see the light of life.A man who has riches without understandingis like the beasts that perish.Psalm 49*********
Goodbye, 2007.
It is an understatement to tell that 2007 was a tiring year for me. It was more than tiring. It was exhausting. It was so exhausting. It was suffocating. It was killing me.
***
School. Stress. Depression. Faith. Money. Life. Most are banal reasons for this utmost year-long grievance.
***
I have managed to accidentally salvage some photos buried deep within the fortress that is my wardrobe, photos taken when I just came to Singapore, and I have realized that I looked very different from how I look today. And it is not an improvement. I looked happier, brighter, and more cheerful and pleasant 730 days ago. I may have looked like a promdi back then, a newbie to this fast-paced and modern urban jungle, but I was still full of energy, hope and spirit.
Self-pity.
I have become a wilted, walking stick, a perfect representation of a stress-driven study-freak/control-freak/perfectionist/lunatic/nocturne immersed under the powerful and inevitable abysmal pressures of the academic side of life. My eyesight has worsened, my eyes have swollen like jellyfish, the areas around them seem to have been encapsulated within a sea of ebony. My hair is always thick and dry and fuzzy and lifeless. My skin is always pale, my lips are always dry. My body has been a mere skeletal framework to behold; there has been an obvious absence of muscular development indeed. Talk about a living corpse. Tim Burton, let me do your future films.
I have never thought I would end up like this. I have always dreamed of getting fit and strong, but school has endangered my vulnerable health. I wholly may be blamed for being passionately inconsiderate to my own self, but who wouldn't want to succeed in this battlefield that I have been so desperately eager to conquer? I always wanted to study, study as smart and as hard as I could, sacrificing precious sleeping hours and resting times just to be able to secure good grades. I always wanted to see my school records neat and clean and filled with As. I have tried so very hard to maintain a good discipline in school (you don't know how difficult it is). I have tried my best to mix and to mingle with the Singaporeans, but I guess I just don't really click with most of them. We probably live in different worlds. Worst part of the year, the Prelims. The exams in SJI were tough. Really tough. I was depressed for months. Damn depressed.
And money? I always needed it. Duh.
I never had a feeling of financial security because I have been always short of money. And when I went back for my end-of-year vacation, I was always depressed. Seeing my parents, their need to struggle just to keep the family alive, it was very painful for me. Why do they need to struggle. I don't like seeing them struggling. I just can't take it.
Truly, O Levels, Prelims, and schoolworks were my blessed trinity. My textbooks and notes constituted my holy bible. My teachers are my preists. Schooldays were my praise and worship sessions. My church? my school. My belief? That by doing your best in your exams you will have eternal happiness in the kingdom of Singapore. What a blasphemous student.
*****
Nevetherless, God has truly never left me, even though most of the times I myself have left myself. I may had been inconsiderate to God most of the time because I oftentimes fail to turn to Him. I felt that my faith has lost its spark as the year went by. I was too preoccupied with earthly tasks and obligations that I have made no room for Him in my heart, mind, and soul. I lost my interest in reading His scriptures, understanding them and putting His Good News into action. Amidst my shortcomings and failures, I would like to thank Him for all the blessings and challenges that He has given me for the year 2007, because I know, although it may be difficult to bear with them, they were given because they serve a purpose in my life. After all, I am just an ordinary man who merely borrowed a life from Him.
All I hope is that I can be strong for the new year to come.
I will do my best, and God will do the rest.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
21:50
Independence.
You wake up in the morning and you find yourself alone in the bed, in the room, in the stillness of the air at the break of dawn, surrounded by four tall corners that are commonly known as walls, concrete or wooden or fabric they're all the same, under a ramshackle roof and beside dirt-laden, almost opaque windows that inconscientiously protect you from the harshness of the outside world.
You see yourself buried under the emblazoned sheets given by your mother, the smell of a distinct detergent soap stubbornly lingering in every square inch of your homeland cotton fibre, amidst the innumerous days and nights of absence from home.
You probably never washed them at all.
You stretch your hands as if you're reaching hers, you kick your feet as if your younger brother is positioned at the far end of the bed tickling you, and you open your eyes wide enough to let yourself notice that another day has passed, and a new one has come into picture.
You are still alive.
But you are alone, all alone, and you keep wondering why. Why?!
Off you go to your morning routine.
You think of the things to do for the day. You think of becoming Superman so you could do everything at ease. You suddenly change your mind. You wouldn't want to be going around wearing an exposed shocking crimson-coloured underwear in public.
No wonder many people yearn for independence, and choose to live by themselves.
It keeps the human imagination flowing.
**********
My friend Benazhir sent me this sms last night:
Today, Singapore is the benchmark of education in Asia. While Singapore is busy making records in academic excellence, Japan is making breakthroughs in information technology.
And the Philippines? Busy setting records like the most number of couples kissing on Valentine's Day. ~ Francis J. Kong
It is quite true, isn't it?
*************
It's Day 3 in the Big Brother House. Cheers.
Big Brother: Lee Kuan Yew, who else
House: Singapore, where else
Cheers: a convenience store usually and strategically situated beside NTUC Fairprice.
I have been here in Singapore for three days now, a majestic feat for a person who has expectedly failed to bid adieu to his hometown vacation frenzy. The no-study mode is still omnipresent within me, and it is quite likely to be a dangerous threat to my studies. The inevitable war at the juvenile battlefield known as SJI International will commence a few days from now, and here I am totally unequipped and unprepared. I see my fellow IB students intensely preparing for the said war, taking French lessons way ahead of the school curriculum, preparing and reasearching stuff related to the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme, and I see myself without my ammunitions and arsenals and whatever you call them bombs and grenades of knowledge and readiness and emotional preparedness. Indeed, slackness has monumentalized within me, and demolishing it off will be a great challenge in the near future.
Anyway, yesterday was a terrific day for me. Kenneth, Rheyza and I went to Parkway Parade. We shopped, we ate, we talked, we walked, we joked around. Basically we had fun. Kenneth went back to his new hostel, Dunman High, and Rheyza and I were left to continue lavishing our settling-in money. We went to Plaza Singapura, intially with the fervent intentions of watching I Am Legend at the Golden Village, but instead ended up savouring the sumptuous meals we ordered at Hot Potato. Well, I think it was a good decision to forgo the initial plan. See you around next time, Hot Potato.
Plaza Singapura. Not for those with Altophobia.
After filling our empty stomachs with twenty-seven dollars and forty cents, off we went to Carrefour to buy some stuff that I need: Vaseline Lotion, Lady Jayne (WTF?) Comb, A container for my Gillette razor and Oral-B toothbrush and Colgate toothpaste, Listerine Mouthwash.
And, unexpectedly, we found some five-dollar books stocked like Payatas rubbish inside the store. I bought three. An unprecedented fifteen-dollar loss.
Waiting for bus no. 14 in front of the Cathedral of the Good Shepherd.
And I would not let myself pretend that I am alighting opposite St. Patrick's School ever again. I don't live there. I live near Holy Family Church. Curse you Bus no. 14.
*******
Friday, December 28, 2007
22:06
Mabuhay.
I'm back in Singapore. Duh.
Sigh.
But the journey on the way to Singapore was terrific.
My batchmates and I were supposed to be seated in the economy class of PAL, but we were transferred to the Mabuhay class because they had no more available seats.
Rowland and Candice inside the plane.
Of course, it was a fantastic ride.
Ah, the luxury...
If only I am rich.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
21:12
The odyssey.
In Greek and Roman mythology, Apollo is the ideal of the kuoros (a beardless youth), the god of medicine and healing, light, truth, archery, and also a bringer of deadly plagues. Apollo is the son of Zeus and Leto, and also has a twin sister, the chaste hunter Artemis, who took the place of Selene in some myths as the goddess of the moon.Greek statues of Apollo portray him as the embodiment of ideal male form. He is also known as Phoebus Apollo and is called the Far Shooter and the Pythian. He has no separate Roman name. His attributes in iconography are the cithara, the lyre, the bow, the fawn, and the tripod. In art Apollo is at most times depicted as a handsome young man, clean shaven and carrying either a lyre, or his bow and arrows. There are many sculptures of Apollo and one of the most famous is the central figure from the west pediment of the Temple of Zeus, at Olympia, showing Apollo declaring victory in favor of the Lapiths in their struggle against the centaurs.
And, for once, I became Apollo.
me and finella.
from left: sarah, debbie, meWell, I may not really look like Apollo in these photos.
And in most photos and statues of Apollo, he's always naked.I can't go that far.^^In commemoration of General Santos City SPED Integrated School's 10th anniversary, I was asked to protray the god Apollo, in a fashion show (Odyssey style), in replacement of Irglen because he's still in Cebu. At first I was hesitant to say YES, because I wouldn't want to go around half-naked (that was what I first thought I was going to do) and do a fashion show in front of hundreds of people inside Lagao Gym.
Well, in the end, I found myself inside the dressing room, stripping off my shirt and shorts and putting on my costume, which was made out of my mum's bedsheet.
Talk about my fashion sense.
Worse, they smeared my hair and my body with gold-coloured dust mixed with gel. A gel? Teacher Marivi said they were on a tight budget and purchasing gallons of body paint would imperil the school funds. Hahaha.
Anyway, it's not WHAT you wear.
It's HOW you wear it.
I had fun. :D
Thanks to Teacher Marivi for asking me to join the runway.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
22:10
Hilarious and insightful.
Inday jokes. My, my, i can't stop laughing.
Here's an example of an Inday joke that I've found on the web:
Ano ang sinabi ni Dr. Jose P. Rizal kay Inday?
Rizal: Inday, ang hindi marunong magmahal sa sariling wika ay mas masahol pa sa halimaw at malansang isda.
Inday: Thank you for that wonderful words of wisdom, but don’t you know that I already read all your writings? Unfortunately, I was really disappointed as majority of your novels were written in Spanish and Latin. So, therefore you are the ultimate violator of your own aphorism.Another one:
Inday: The status restricts me to love you but you have the provocations. The way you smile is the proximate cause why I love you. We have some reasons to think of. We have no vested rights to love each other because the upper household dismissed my petition...
Dodong: Perhaps you are mistaken, what you seem contrive as any affections for you are somewhat half-hearted. I was merely attempting to expand my network of interest by involving you in my daily recreation. Heretofor, you can expect an end to any verbal articulation from me...
- naging paguusap ni inday at dodong ng
magbreak sila...
"Be careful in letting go of the things you thought are just nothing because maybe someday you'll realize that the one you gave away is the very thing you've been wishing for to stay"...
- payo kay inday ng napadaang basurero
na nakikinig sa usapan nla ni dodong...
And another one:
Amo: Inday bumili ka nga ng mga isda, ay oo nga pala, inglesera ka na ngayon, would you please buy many fishes for this week's meals? Inday: Judging by your statement, I believe you meant a variety of fish. The term fishes though rarely used, connotes a plethora of different kinds of the said gilled aquatic creatures. But the most pressing question before I go to the wet market would be: what type of fish? Fillet or not? Frozen or fresh? (pauses) Ahh…given the meager budget afforded by this household's quasi-peasant class taste, I assume I shall source the staple "galewng-gong". Yes? Amo: Eh kung mag-empake ka na kaya?! ***Whew.
For me, these kinds of jokes are the best ones around. It's like taking snippets of information we frequently find inside textbooks, and adding a little bit of humour to it to make it more attractive and entertaining to read. Furthermore, they're neither obscene, indecorous, lewd, nor mundane. And in a way, they provide insightful and useful information that we can actually use and apply in our daily conversations with people. We get to encounter new vocabulary that helps us to expand our linguistic horizons, develop our intellect, and spark curiousity and creativity among us.
Most importantly, it makes us happy.
Headache.
The electrifying pain in my head is driving me nuts.
It's stinging. It's painful. And I'm still staring in front of the computer.
I'm so stubborn.
She's like a marijuana for the eyes.
A mouthwatering spoonful of amphetamine for the depressed optic nerves and despondent rectus muscles.
Anyway, tomorrow marks the beginning of the simbang gabi.
And I'm planning to finish nine masses. Nine straights days of having to wake up early.
Four in the morning.
Hope my headache does not get worse.
Tata. Good night.
Friday, December 14, 2007
09:48
Making a diff.
As I type this sentence, the wall clock is ticking and the digital watch is scintillating, telling me that it's already 1:41 in the morning. Wooo, it rhymed. Cool. Anyway, a few minutes ago I was conscientiously snoring, yawning, feeling drowsy, and feeling like indulging myself to sleep, when all of a sudden something came to my mind. Like an annoying pop-up window. Annoying indeed.
I really feel like making a difference in the world.Like doing a historic transaction (España selling Filipinas to Estados Unidos for $20000000)
or performing a fantastic feat (balancing bowling balls two stories high)
or winning in a major activity (winning a gold medal in the Olympics without taking steroids)
or leading a significant call (Al Gore with his Inconvenient Truths and LiveEarth concerts)
or doing a wild sex scandal, maybe? (Paris Hilton with her sex video)
I just feel like putting myself onstage and leading this world into something which I want to achieve.
The thought drives me crazy.
Becoming Hitler, Jr.
Dammit.
What on earth am I thinking.
Becoming Dr. Evil's way cooler.
See the distinct pose? Sweet.
Tic-tac-toes and Po-ta-toes.
TIC-TAC-TOES.
Without eliminating symmetries (rotations and reflections), there are 255,168 possible games in tic-tac-toe. Assuming that X makes the first move every time:
- 131,184 games are won by X;
- 77,904 games are won by O;
- 46,080 games are a draw.
After eliminating symmetries, there are only 138 unique games. Assuming once again that X makes the first move every time:
- 91 games are won by X;
- 44 games are won by O;
- 3 games are a draw.
***
POTATOES.
Potato is the term which applies either to the starchy tuberous crop from the perennial plant
Solanum tuberosum of the Solanaceae, or nightshade, family, or to the plant itself. Potato is the world's most widely grown tuber crop, and the fourth largest food crop in terms of fresh produce — after rice, wheat, and maize ('corn').
- AGAIN, from
Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
***
hope you've learned something from this.
Well, I did.
Imaginations.
IMPORTANT
Do not accept if open, torn or tampered with. Please carefully follow the instructions inside.These were the words I first saw when the kind woman handed me the BPI Express Teller envelope.
"There is a website written in this envelope. Go to this website to check your account balance for free," the woman gleefully instructed.
I smiled. Thanks, I replied. At first I was barely looking at the envelope, for I was busy scrutinizing her crimson-coloured belt which hung loosely under her chest. "Why do women nowadays wear their belts so high," I wondered. Don't tell me they're afraid of 'being hit below the belt', as what boxing referees kindly remind to beefcake-looking boxers before a fight.
***
"
No hitting below the belt," a stout, double-chinned Caucasian man with a black bowtie advices the woman in front of me.
"
Why?" I asked. My dad looked at me with astonishment.
"
Because when you inquire your account balance at the ATM Machine, your balance will be deducted," she answered.
"
Checking it online is much better," my dad responded.
"
Huh? What?" I was getting confused.
"
Because the International Boxing Federation prohibits boxers from punching their opponent's family jewels, mate. You don't wanna go being unable to produce ya babies right after a match, do you?" the fat man snorted.
"
Yes, you heard him right," the woman said.
"
Excuse me?? Of course I wouldn't want to!" I exclaimed.
"
Mind your manners!" my dad shouted.
"
It's okay, Mr. Imperial," the woman told my dad, with a forlorn look on her face, and a sense of disgust for the imbecile child he had brought into this bank office.
"
It's okay, kid. Chill! You wanna be a boxer?" the fat man asked.
"
I don't want," I answered.
"
But it's a good job! You earn millions!"
"Rowland!""I don't want.""Hey, I thought Filipinos love boxing? C'mon! I'll help you!"
"Um, excuse me-""Rowlaaaaaaaaaand!!!!!!!!!!!""I said I don't want!!!!!!!!!!!!!"My dad slapped me hard. Very hard. I fell on the floor, like a rundown Garuda Indonesia plane crashing into the ground, helpless, powerless. I quickly glanced at a teardrop flying in midair, in a downward motion slower than mine, for I fell into the fuschia-coloured tile floor first. I heard a loud thud, like the sound of thunder directly beside my ears.
I saw blood. I felt pain. My eyes closed.
I heard screams, especially a very distinct scream, which actually sounded more like a squeak, which came from the fat man. I saw fast-moving feet, in a shuffling manner. There was a commotion, I was very pretty sure about it. People were murmuring and talking to themselves, as if they were gossiping about me. Well, they were. They sure were.
I could not find the voice of my dad... until...
"
Anju! Uy! Anju! What is happening to you?"
"
Ha??"
"
You have been staring at the ceiling for quite some time now. Any problem?"
"
Oh.. um... uh... no.. not at all. I'm fine..."
"
Hahaha. It's okay. Okay, anyway, as I was saying earlier, you can go to this website to check your account balance for free. You have an internet access at home, I suppose?"
"
Yes, yes, we have. Well then, thank you miss."
"
Sure, no thing. Okay, thank you for opening an account with us. You can just call our branch for any other queries you might want to ask."
"
Thanks."
***
Stop imagining, rowland.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
17:39
Hit counters.
You had 2385907309857205987359386049682305871350876206729805 HITS for the year 2007.
Congratulations. Your blog won the annual blog popularity contest award. We look forward for your next year's performance in the worldwide blogosphere. You are insane, by the way. Again, congratulations.
***
I finally decided to add a hit counter in my blog.
For those unfortunate ones who know not a single bit about this technological advancement, I shall give you something analogical to make a sense out of this senseless crap.
Security guards use a device, held by hand, and activated by the gentle press of the thumb, in the entrance gates of malls and other buildings, to determine the number of people who enter the establishment at specific times of the day. Too bad they can't count other life forms who enter the gates regardless of whether they are seen or not.
So, a hit counter in a blog or in any other website works in the same manner, only that it can't be held by hand, and it can only be activated by a programme from
www.easycounter.com.
Well, I still don't get the gist of having the need for one. To check on my popularity level, perhaps? Duh, I can open my blog page 1000 times a day and people will be amazed how popular my blog is the moment they check on my blog thirty days later...
***
Girl 1: Thirty thousand hits a month. Girl, look at this! Cool. He must be a chick magnet. Let's check out his personal particulars then.... checking...Girl 2: Oh shit. He's as skinny as Mandark. As nerdy-looking too. He's just self-obssessed. A lot of guys do that nowadays. Creepy.
Girl 1: Whoa. That's a lot of self-obssessed boys out there.
Girl 2: (nods head) Duh.
Girl 1: Yeah. Pity those guys. (shakes head) They're hopeless.***
Though there isn't a need for that.
As what blogger told me, us:
"A blog gives you your own voice on the web. It's a place to collect and share things that you find interesting— whether it's your political commentary, a personal diary, or links to web sites you want to remember. Many people use a blog just to organize their own thoughts, while others command influential, worldwide audiences of thousands. Professional and amateur journalists use blogs to publish breaking news, while personal journalers reveal inner thoughts.
Whatever you have to say, Blogger can help you say it."
Yes, why thank you, Blogger.
I notice a lot of blogs that I read contain the so-called hit counters somewhere in the page. Most of them are located just below the blog title to give a sense of pride to the owner, and a sense of doubt and bewilderment to the visitor.
Well, I guess I belong to the blogos-taxonomic group called the "crappolus bloggosinensis".
You are insane, by the way. Again, congratulations.
Rain, rain, rain.
"Taas tiil! Taas tiil!" the tricycle driver warned six infuriated passengers aboard his ramshackle and carbon-monoxide-regurgitating vehicle. It took me quite a while to digest the information inside my brain, until I saw an ocean of rain water (plus drainage water from the nearby canal and some indistinctively clean water from the nearby wetland) a few metres ahead of us. It seemed like I was on a rundown ship, awaiting its glorious sinking moment in the middle of the Pacific. An exhilarating moment indeed. Huh.
This is crazy, I crazily thought. I held onto my knees, pulled them as high as I could, like a diver in midair doing a stunt, while trying to balance my bum on a miniscule wooden seat made even more uncomfortable by a rocklike foam that I shared with an old woman beside me, just to avoid being thrown out of the small threshold behind the tricycle. The entrance to the ocean of doom.
The involuntary acrobatic stunt inside the tricycle saved my Chuck Taylors.
That was the best thing that happened today.
Hurray.
***
The weather here has gone bonkers. Well, rain here may not be frequent, but whenever it rains, it really rains.
***
Well, it does not really matter if it rains, does it?
To us, here, we the fortunate citizens of this world, we who among over six billion d***s and p*****s were chosen to propagate and reside in this 7-107-island enclosure, in this huge archipelago with a teenie-weenie economy and a godforsaken standard of living, RAIN is a big issue.
It's hard to live a normal life when you are like a fish swimming in the middle of a sea in the middle of a city.
An ubiquitous sight to behold.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
19:24
Mobile phones.
As far as I can remember, I had my first mobile phone when I was in the middle of my 4th year in elementary school.My phone was a Nokia 5110, which I frequently enjoyed changing casings every two weeks for a new look. To impress my classmates, that was the main intention.
And I was so happy because, finally, I could start sending messages to a girl that I really liked back then.And I was living in an era suffering the wake of an economic recession, where mobile phone industries such as Motorola and Nokia initiated a frenzy for mobile phones among the Filipino masses. A simple Nokia 3210 unit in the late 1990s was considered to be an exorbitantly valuable possession for a typical Filipino. Talk about living in luxury back then. Everyone was sending and receiving texting messages everywhere; I can still remember how popular graphic messages were, and how obssessed the Filipinos were about text jokes - corny jokes, new jokes, self-invented jokes, racist jokes, dumb jokes, Juan-at-Pedro jokes, green jokes - which earned the Philippines' title as the "Texting Capital of the World". Of course, if we look at the world today, the Philippines no longer holds that once pretigious title. China, screw you.- The world's best-selling phone, the Nokia 3310 / 3330 sold 126 million units from its launch in 2000 until its "retirement" earlier in 2005. If you want to realize its significance, well you must also know that the combined total of all Nokia phones sold between 1991 and 1998 is 100 million.
Two years passed and I finally changed my phone. Finally. It was a sunny day, a day I had been waiting for so long. The money was ready. It was MY money. Zillions of new models were out, sexily, fabulously and attractively displayed inside malls and shops, conspicuously tagged with the cheapest, most affordable possible prices in town, a plethora of non-living floozies waiting to be bought, caressed and touched by the gentle fingers of the owner for q
uite some time, until the purchase has finally served its limited purpose.I got a beautiful, sporty Nokia 5210. Talk about the fun times we had together.After one and a half years, the purpose had not yet been fully served, because my mobile phone was stolen. Shit. But I knew who stole it anyway. Well, it was just a matter of understanding HER, the thief. Maybe SHE needed money? I did not bother to put HER to shame. SHE pretended that that SHE was an angel, though. And many people fell for it. Well, sorry MISS, you weren't. Hope YOU've changed for the better now. Screw HER.Well, it was really time for a new change anyway. I got a Sony Ericsson T630.
It was not bad, I actually liked it. Plus, it had served me for four years. It accompanied me to Singapore, underwent terrible bumps and falls because of my careless handling, and provided me constant communication with my family back home. I miss my T630. But of course, there was a limit to its life. In the middle of this year, it totally broke down (I thought), and to my dismay, I could not repair it because I knew no repair shop in Singapore and I did not believe it could be repaired (although it can be repaired, my uncle is using my old phone right now, hahaha). So I decided to ask money from my parents to buy a new one.Rheyza helped me to buy my new mobile phone, and I am very grateful and thankful that I asked her to go with me, because if not, I would have been tempted to buy a more expensive phone and that would have made me broke for the next few months in Singapore. We looked in Toa Payoh for an affordable phone with the features I was looking for, and luckily, we got a good one. And it's my current mobile phone. And I'm happy with it.
Sony Ericsson W610i.I wonder if I can get an iPhone some time soon.
Potato is the term which applies either to the starchy tuberous crop from the perennial plant Solanum tuberosum of the Solanaceae, or nightshade, family, or to the plant itself. Potato is the world's most widely grown tuber crop, and the fourth largest food crop in terms of fresh produce — after rice, wheat, and maize ('corn').
Congratulations. Your blog won the annual blog popularity contest award. We look forward for your next year's performance in the worldwide blogosphere. You are insane, by the way. Again, congratulations.
"Taas tiil! Taas tiil!" the tricycle driver warned six infuriated passengers aboard his ramshackle and carbon-monoxide-regurgitating vehicle. It took me quite a while to digest the information inside my brain, until I saw an ocean of rain water (plus drainage water from the nearby canal and some indistinctively clean water from the nearby wetland) a few metres ahead of us. It seemed like I was on a rundown ship, awaiting its glorious sinking moment in the middle of the Pacific. An exhilarating moment indeed. Huh.
And I was so happy because, finally, I could start sending messages to a girl that I really liked back then.
uite some time, until the purchase has finally served its limited purpose.
It was not bad, I actually liked it. Plus, it had served me for four years. It accompanied me to Singapore, underwent terrible bumps and falls because of my careless handling, and provided me constant communication with my family back home. I miss my T630. But of course, there was a limit to its life. In the middle of this year, it totally broke down (I thought), and to my dismay, I could not repair it because I knew no repair shop in Singapore and I did not believe it could be repaired (although it can be repaired, my uncle is using my old phone right now, hahaha). So I decided to ask money from my parents to buy a new one.
Sony Ericsson W610i.