The good old days

It's raining-- the kind that has cool breezes and damp grassy smells, the kind which reminds me of school, and the times we spent a whole day wearing jackets. It's so nice and cloudy and gray. Wish it wouldn't stop...
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Zarah posted the old "Peter Pan, an Original" poem in her blog (after Mia found it, and passed it along to Ja). Goody. I often wondered where that went. It's the spawn of a mad scramble for choral recitation poems, sheer desperation and the dreamy blushings of a young girl. *blink blink* EW. Okay, kadire. Hahaha. Before Peter Pan, however, there was Finnigan Mcfigg, among the numerous others, who sadly didn't make it past two lines.

"His name was Finnigan Mcfigg,
He has one arm and one lig"

Hmmm, just the only starter lines I memorized out of the many we were making up. A pity. At least we still got Peter. (Ja: We could sell it on ebay!!!)
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Mom told us to "do something productive". I suppose that means cleaning, and fixing and whatnot. The thing about "cleaning up" is, you just dump it all on a place where it's supposed to be dumped. And I want cleaning up to really mean CLEANING UP, which means generating good-riddance-to-bad-rubbish thoughts. My parents (read: my MOM) has/have this galling rule of screening everything we want to throw out, just in case it's still something useful, which isn't a bad idea at all. It only becomes annoying when you end up keeping 95% of the junk you want to throw out just because they say so. Peachy, that garbage out-garbage in cycle. It defeats the purpose of your cleaning efforts in the first place.
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There is something SO wrong whenever I see Tim Yap hosting his "show" on MTV (besides the chills I get, I mean). It's just... not good...
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I'm back to drawing again! Or doodling. I'm testing other styles. I really like the way fashion designers draw. I'm trying to see how thin I can stretch my figures without them looking disproportionate.

Oh wait; they're already thin to begin with.