miss rema erd
i am Hannah (my name's a palindrome).
i am the first daughter of the first daughter of the first daughter.
i love my family deep deep. my favourite red is carmaine.
i also love football, good books, sunsets, grinning babies, poets, photographers, a good intellectual conversation, quirky people, pious bad boys with soft hearts and good minds, happy surprises, the rain, flat shoes, the thought of painting, coffeebean's caramel ice blend, borders (as in the bookstore), bubble tea, and waking up on my own.
/ Ice Skate @ Kallang Leisure Park
/ Rollerblade @ ECP
/ Plan a community service project coming up!
/ Enter a photography contest
/ Jog with Tch Rapiah @ Tamp Stadium coming up!
/ Buy an English translation Qura'an
/ Buy the $100 book on the 4 Imams
/ Take up a new skill @ a CC
/ Paint a picture by Singapore River
/ Play paintball @ SDC
/ Go to the Tree Top @ MacRitchie
/ Learn how to (really) ride a horse
/ Plan an event for my old Madrasah
/
caveat lector
Two years ago, few weeks before my O Levels, I went around my class with a tape recorder, practically begging them to record something for me. It gave me some peace, hearing their voices once again, and brought back all those memories I’ve since locked away somewhere inside this dumb head.
Hah.
So what I did yesterday for abour two hours or so: was scrounge around Friendster a bit, and Taman Bahgia (our MSN group), for their pictures. Not easy, ‘cause the pictures in TB are a bit blurred. Then put together the pictures into a video 3++ minutes long and 23mb in size. I passed to five already so far, my mission being to put a smile on their pathetic faces (haha) but instead they said:
"Han! You made me cry! All your fault!"
"Sedihnye.."
"Happy.. Tapi sad ah.. Teringat sume balek."
-_-. Ahh well. Good part was, they all declared their appreciation, love and misses. Hahah. So I guess the song "Photograph" kinda reminds me of them. Of us.
I miss my Sec4G.
broke my fall (0)
sapienta
but reading, good company and reflection
must finish him.
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!