read this off shengming's blog!
and i truly believe in what our teacher said
finally our favourite marco/micro economics
teacher say something we wont forget.
'growing old is not a choice,
growing up is a choice'
usually she just tells us how useless we are
like seriously
AND.
i permed my hair! [;
im not supposed to wash my hair for a day,
but i went to play basketball then had to go home and shower
so the curls are not as obvious now
im supposed to put some wax thing to hold it in place,
which i shall try later
HAPPY VALENTINES' DAY EVERYONE.
im totally looking forward to 7pm coming soon!
the weekend's here,
its still as busy as ever though
perhaps there will be some time left over
perhaps
france, never near enough.
come home soon.
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AINT NO AVERAGE.
LOVE.
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love which any of us can convince ourselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.
Captain Corelli's Mandolin
Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love which any of us can convince ourselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.
Captain Corelli's Mandolin
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