Spamming is NOT allowed.
Click on the above to navigate around my blog.
Do not remove credits.
Best viewed in 1280 by 1024 resolution.
Concept by ;
Katherine.T
the author
the name's michelle.
15 and crazy.
a self-obsessed camwhore freak.
babbles alot.
sucker for twilight and its sagas.
studying diploma of music.
dreams of marrying a french and having lots of money.
roflmao.
bookworm.
random.
me.
entries
October 27, 2008
I couldn’t help but sigh as I watched the little red hand of my watch ticking slowly, indicating every second that passed by. Leaning back onto the backseat of the Toyota Camry, I began daydreaming again.
I had always wished I'll never have to grow up and be a woman. One of the many reasons I had in mind was that I hated going through puberty, literally. I found the monthly menses to be quite...troublesome, like the part where girls have to worry about leaving blood prints everywhere subconsciously. If your monthly menses is unpredictable and you’re not wearing a sanitary pad or tampon, you may end up with blood-soaked panties. Okay, drop the subject. It is always icky talking about this. I know it's general but gross much?
I wanted to be a little girl forever, and never age. But humans are no Peter Pan and we will all have white hair and wrinkles one day. That's not what I care the most about growing old. The ups and downs in life are certainly not something that people usually forget about, but it is something I'd love to get away from sometimes. Daydreaming is my favourite hobby, other than watching television or playing MMORPGs’. When I was young, about the age of ten, reality was my deadliest enemy. I wondered why is reality so harsh-harsh enough to make someone like me feeling so suicidal perpetually. Where is fantasy? What about fairies and elves and princesses and unicorns? I often thought to myself. As I grew older, I became aware of this activity called ‘daydreaming’, and no doubt, I indulged myself in it not long after.
When I turned 13-just like what I had predicted-life weren't the same for me anymore. Exams and boys-I’m a pretty much carefree person-they were all one big major headache. Acing school exams weren't actually a big deal for me, but studying for them was indeed. Proof?
Put yourself in two situations.
1. Lock yourself in a room for 5 hours straight with a pile of books weight 3 kilograms and 18 inches tall-no snacks, no going to the loo unless you can memorise your entire History text book, no TV, no radio and no texting your friends.
2. Only having two books to revise on, you can eat and go toilet and watch TV and text your friends whenever you like. Which situation will most probably make you go crazy? Situation no. 1. Now, get what I mean?
Next subject, boys. I had lots of experiences with boys, and believe me, they're all bad-well, at least about 99% of them were. I had crushes on more than 10 boys, liked 5 at the same time, dated 3, and a couple of ex-boyfriends. My past relationships never went smooth enough for me to even kiss a guy on the cheek or receiving a stalk of rose on Valentine’s Day. So much for dating and relationships. Jake Lee was my most recent ex-boyfriend. After 3 months, we broke up based on some inexplicable reasons, or shall I say, excuses. His mum eventually found out about us because he laughed so loud on the phone late at night and she could hear him, and also because he couldn't stand the 'pressure' being my boyfriend. Eventually, time healed everything. I was kind of glad that we broke up, I mean, who needs a jerk like him anyway?
Half of my entire life was dedicated to music, which means the rest of my life will also be dedicated to music, how predictable. Music was my everything-my hopes, my dreams; and most of all, my passion. When I was 5, my mum sent me for piano lessons at the Yamaha Music School. Timid and shy, I hid behind my mother’s skirt every lesson whenever the teacher greeted me or I was asked to play on the piano. Even my mother wondered if she should take me to the psychiatrist because I seemed to develop some kind of phobia. One day, my classmates started calling me 'red apple' because of my flushed red cheeks and since then, I stopped being so afraid of everything and showed some enthusiasm in class. Miss Iris was a very nice teacher. She was rather short and plump, and Matt-a rascal in my class-called her a fatty. She spoke in this high, squeaky voice, so we chanted ‘Minnie Mouse! Minnie Mouse!’ all the way back home after class.
By the age of 7, I could already identify various chord progressions and sing according to pitches. A music student's biggest mistake was to sing out of pitch, so I've always worked hard to maintain my voice and learned not to stretch it to an extent that I couldn't. It could result to serious embarrassment, only if one sang out of tune. I also got to improvise on melodies, which means using the proper chord of a certain progression, depending on the variation pattern(s) suitable for the passage. It may seemed like an easy job for a musician at my age or older, but for a seven-year-old, it certainly was pretty much of an achievement. Then, I picked up ABRSM, the Associated Board of Royal Schools of Music. It was very different from Yamaha (which focuses more on hearing ability and harmony), as it emphasizes more on scales, skills and techniques of playing, and of course; the knowledge about music. My parents had invested about RM 600,000 within 9 years for me to study music. They often said that I was ‘throwing their money into the drain’. So, I had to study very diligently to prove them wrong.
The screech of the car brakes cut me off my thoughts. Curious, I peered out of the window. In a split second, I went hysterics at the sight of a very congested traffic. What’s worse, it's already 8.57am. I definitely couldn't make it to Stringendo’s on time and Mr. Joe was so going to murder me when I was asleep.
Then I did the craziest thing in my entire life. Panicked, I said goodbye to my dad-who looked at me with a bewildered expression, stepped out of the car in the middle of the jam, and ran straight towards the academy. Dad’s eyes were probably bulging out of their sockets infrutaringly. I’ll settle down my punishment at home later, I thought to myself. It's just a 200-metre distance from the traffic, so it's not that far either. My legs kept on carrying myself despite the slight headache I got since this morning, and the honking of the car horn wasn't making me feeling any better.
Almost out of breath, I reached Stringendo's Academy of Music. I let out a loud sigh of relief, ignoring the glances of the passersby' as I panted breathlessly. My heart was still thumping non-stop and I could feel my cheeks red from running. "Breathe, Ebony. Breathe." I reminded myself as I walked into the entrance.