In the name of Santa Claus and funny songs about him.

I know I should've posted this on the 25th but hey..what can you do?

"Procrastinator!!"

Ms Angela would be so proud..Not.xp
ANYWAYS for this ho-ho christmas I cooked up a story, based on a song I GOOGLED, of which I do NOT own. Though it's funny but NO. I DO NOT OWN THE BLOOMING SONG FEATURED IN THIS FIC.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A four year-old Rebecca McKnight opened an eye as she listened carefully. The other popped open and she sat up in bed, staring at the ceiling in wonder.

There it was again! She had heard it! The clicking of tiny reindeer hooves on the roof! Santa was here!

Beka slowly crept out of bed and tiptoed to her bedroom door. She remembered Mommy telling her about how Santa would know if she was awake and wouldn’t leave her anything if she was, but it was a risk Beka was willing to take, she had to see Santa. Reaching up, Rebecca just barely reached the knob and turned it with the pads of her finger.

She continued to sneak down the hall, the dark wooden floor cold under her bare feet. Now, which room would Santa go? Would he leave the presents under the tree in her parents room? Or how about the one in the dining room? Beka frowned.

A noise from the living room caught Rebecca’s attention. Aha! There was a tree there too! That had to be where Santa had come down!

Nerves began to get to Rebecca as she made her way towards the door, so she began to softly sing a song her mom had giggled through dinner earlier.

But the song died in her throat as she nudged the door open a crack so she could see inside. A quiet gasp fled from her throat as her eyes drank in what she saw.

It was Santa! The Santa Claus! There he was, beard, red suit, fat tummy, everything! He leaned over his sack and pulled out a gift and put it under the tree decorated with home-made ornaments she and mommy had made. Rebecca had to use the self-control she could muster to not run into the room and tackle the big guy.

After Santa had emptied his sack, he moved to her stocking hung over the fireplace. Rebecca held her breath as Santa withdrew her letter, which she had written herself this year, and opened it. Santa read the letter and Rebecca silently prayed that he would grant it, it was what she wanted most in the whole world.

“Uhh, Rebecca is wishing for a baby brother or sister.” Santa said, to whom Rebecca had no idea. But she did note that his voice was awfully familiar.

“She does?” A voice answered, one Beka immediately recognized as her mother’s.

Sure enough, her mother appeared and went to read the letter Santa held out to her. She stifled a gasp, then a giggle as she read Rebecca’s messy handwriting.

“That’s why she didn’t want my help writing her letter this year.” Kira realized, gently taking the letter from Santa’s hand.

“Well, maybe we should oblige her.” Santa quirked, a naughty lilt tainting his voice. Beka rejoiced inwardly, Santa was going to grant her wish!

Kira laughed humorlessly and replied, “Then you carry it for nine months and give birth to it.”

Rebecca felt her lower lip droop as she glowered at her mother, the spoil-sport.

“Aw, come on. It’s Beka’s wish. After all, we always got what we wanted for Christmas.” Santa remarked, pulling Kira close to him. “Well, I certainly did.”

Rebecca blinked in confusion. “What the-”

Kira chucked softly as she draped her arms around Santa’s neck. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still waiting for the pony I asked for.”

Santa laughed, but no the Ho Ho Ho as Rebecca had expected. And again, the laugh was familiar. Rebecca was confused, and she didn’t like the way her mother was behaving with Santa Claus. Where was Daddy?

The stereo system began to harmonize. “I saw Mommy kissing, Santa Claus. Underneath the mistletoe last night!”

Rebecca’s eyed widened as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. Kira leaned forward and laid a soft kiss on Santa’s mouth. The only other person Rebecca had ever seen her mother kiss like that was her father... Daddy!

“Oh, what a laugh it would have been, if Daddy had only seen, Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night!” The singers exclaimed from the stereo and Rebecca burst into the room. Planting her hand on her hips and rasing her chin in hard anger, Rebecca demanded. “Mommy! What are you doing?”

As shocked as she was, Kira automatically shoved Santa away from her. Santa, unfortunately, fell back into the tree, knocking it over.

“Oh, no.” Kira mumbled, then watched in shock as the gold star on top of the tree flew off and twirled, suspended momentarily in the air before falling. Santa had been struggling to get off the tree, but his bulk in front was making it very difficult. Moments later, the very pointy star landed precariously close to his head, causing him to double his efforts with widened eyes.

Kira immediately flew to Santa’s side, lifting him up out of the tree as well as she could. Muttering something about Conner putting on more than a little weight, she blushed. Finally, ‘Santa’s’ head was resting on her lap and Kira hesitated to take off the hat and beard in front of her daughter.

“Conspiring to take me out already, are you?” ‘Santa’ mumbled, much to Beka’s horror.

Kira glared at the man, tempted to take that beard of his and snap it one good time. But a sniffle stopped her from considering it any longer. She watched as tears filled Rebecca’s eyes and began to spill over her cheeks.

Rebecca ran a sleeve over her cheeks, then looked down at her mother with disbelief. “Mommy, you nearly kil-”

But Kira cut her daughter off when she sighed and looked down at her husband. “I know, I know... I nearly killed Santa Clause.”
(for my uncle, cheers where ever you may be)

A little down in the dumps.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway, as you step on each tile precisely.
Your legs move on their own accord, knowing each tile as it's friend.
Your arms sway a bit, as if trying to fly.
Your eyes set on your destination.
Her.
and you know that she knows.
she knows you're there.
and she knows you know.
So she smiles at you, though knowing that you'd know it isn't true.
and she parts her chapped lips,
'you came?'
with the expression that always amused you.
Smirk in tact, she laughs at you,though you know she doesn't.
her eyes challenging you to move,you do.
she remains at her spot, not moving.
You step closer; and she does move.
she shoves her hand forward,
with such force, in an awkward position.
grasped in her disoriented fingers: a package,neatly packed and cared for.
You take it.
' thanks'
she shrugs
'happy birthday'
and moves around you; she's leaving you.
panic. you move forward grab her hand.
your eyes delve into hers.
her eyes now a steely mocca, held such strength that you let her go.
You know she knows what you were going to do.
even before you did.
She turns away from you, and walks strongly down the corridor
you stare as she retreats back to her life.
With a sigh, you let out
the three most infamous words.
'I love you'
You see her stride begin to drag.
You see her slowly loosen.
but still keeps moving forward.
But you don't hear what she wants to say.
she keeps her peace and moves on.
with the words haunting her:
'I know'

you had nothing to lose.
She did.

updates updates

Hello world!
it's been a long while since I've posted yarr..
What can I say..I was.. uh..having a catastrophic time in moving my limbs to visit this website and log in..
in other words = Lazy.:P

Anyways..been busying myself with cleaning the whole house, now it seems that I've taken over the post 'house cleaner' by day and by night I'm reading..books..that I've read over and over again..but I actually don't mind really.. cause I'm gonna buy more at KK this 20th! :) :)

and ohh yea thanks to a friend of mine, I now have a new alter ego.
not only am I the 'o sarcastic one' and 'o addicted analyst' but I am also 'the mighty twister of words'

XP I can't help but feel happy..I don't know why. most probably because of the ride with my bro was very amusing.x)

scene *
hazeeq is sitting there looking out at awe at a car.
hazeeq:ka, that's my limo you know!
qeelah: yea yea and that's my horse.
hazeeq: astagh...tunggu saja..kalau hazeeq naik bah..banyak orang teriak "superstar!"
qeelah: and then they say "whoops salah..sumo rupanya"
*cue punch from the sensitive boy.
end scene*

random stuff I had with hazeeq:
'mayday mayday, the worm has entered,the worm has entered'
'if quizzes are quizzical..what are tests?'
'The stork is pecking, the stork is pecking.wait don't push yet!?!'
'hallooo~ my banana phone is monkey-ing out on me!'
'Bugga bugga...beli beli..bugga bugga'
'hahahehehehehahahahahhohohohohoh'
'If I'm a hippo then what are you?' 'a stick insect'
'ka you can't run..sal you have two balloons.' 'well you have five in your stomach'
'uh?' 'I bet the table would catch on faster than you'

Out of sorts.

It's Official.
I am now officially suffering from a serious rare psychological malfunction virus,that has managed to dodge my auto-immune system of which is injecting demented and twisted projectiles into my brain,i.e. my temporal lobe.

The virus has engulfed my sensory and nerve system.
Yes, seriously.
I'm not kidding.
It's the only rational,objectively logical reason.

Because I did NOT do a past year in ADD MATHS.
I did NOT make notes about the first few chapters of 'PNP'.
I did NOT imagine doing another CHEMISTRY paper 3.
I did NOT rehearse my BM composition 'skills'.
I did NOT read and re-read my BIOLOGY notes.
I did NOT grammar proof ALL of my stories.
I did NOT attempt to try to understand PHYSICS.
I did NOT do that.
I did NOT.
NO, I DID NOT DO THAT.
I did not do that.

Please god, I didn't do that right?
Oh man.
I did.
yes I did.
Oh no.I did.
in a short span of two days.
Jeez what's happening to me?

It's gotta be that virus.
That damned virus.
that's making me study.
Okay. maybe I should do an open surgery on my brain and fry it with a lightning rod?
maybe that'll fix my obsession with studying.
I Sure hope so It will.
cause I don't have a spare one.

SIGH.

Jeez I am so blanked out now.

Hmm..my brain is running at full speed now..hahah is that even possible ? my brain doesn't have legs! I think.

You see.. today is the first day of the holidays.
The holidays.
T-H-E-H-O-L-I-D-A-Y-S.
Yep.
AND I AM SO BORED..

it's the first day and I'm already bored, hahah I'm hopeless?!

It was so absurd when In the middle of checking a few websites.. I had a sudden impulse to do my 'homework'. so off I went to my room and when I was pulling out my pencil case did it register to me..I had none.

SO I just stared off in my room, and saw the past year papers.
SIGH.
Sadly, I guess My brain suffered from short sanity loss cause the next thing I knew.. I was actually opening the pages to my Bio Notes and past year papers.

Now Isn't that sad?

Thank god I came to my senses and dragged myself to the computer to my blog,of which I've neglect of feeding it with posts.
And now I so Don't know what to write.

Guess I'll start playing games or something like that..
later I'll do an exercise course..as usual..
but then..I don't know what to do!!

AH.sigh..I think tonight I'll so some studying lah..kay..yea...
shivers* what is going on with me??

1. Take a recent picture of yourself or take a picture of
yourself right now.

2. Don't change your clothes, don't fix your hair... Just
take a picture.

3. Post that picture with NO editing.

4. Post these instruction with your picture.

5. Tag 5 people to do this.

Jeez Worlikers.. hmm..I tag : uh Rai, Janice, Fisah, Cat, and Jul.
:P

So deserving.

You see her.
Her eyes ;red
like from the dead.
Her hair; a mess,
with no reason,
to see through.
Her fingers;white
from the scar.
Her nose;swollen
from the rough tissue.
Her ears; bled
from the endless beat.
Her lips; parched,
contrasting with her cheeks.
Her figure broken,
laid as pieces.
Her posture,
was of depletion.
She was broken.
You turn your head.
You knew this would happen
you look at her once again,
then stare at else where.
you can not take the view.
You need to get out
Quick.You move
towards the door.
You glance at her,
as disgust and pity
steeled your choice.
You take the knob,
removing your presence,
leaving nothing,
except for the stamp
sending her spiraling
down below.

"that's what you get, when you let your heart win."

When writing fails.

The words in your brain;
beginning to swirl out of hand.
You have to write.
You need to write.
You take a breath.
And Plunge.
All the words, stumbling clumsily onto the paper;
Reincarnating a scene,
remaking a memory,
reliving a life,
Revisiting the past.
Of which secrets were laid bare,
where feelings were openly displayed,
when wit was a tool of knowledge
and sarcasm was everything;
the marks of annoyance,
the strength of anger,
the tenderness of interest,
the softness of caring.
You breathe again,
after letting that out.
You hope for the best.
But.
then a silver ray beacons to you,
blinding you, as you grope
all around you for resistance.
The light beckons you to delve more.
More into your mind,
the sea of emotions, fought against
strained and locked.
Too much.
Too much.
You can not breathe.
You struggle, you claw
you throat trying to breathe.
Too much.
So you grab on the nearest thing,
an excerpt or knowledge,
like a drowned swimmer would,
and hope that one day the sea would evaporate,
or drain.
grasping the object,rather obsessively,
like children with their toys,
Your hands are now bleeding,
you've held the object too strong,
but it can not be helped.
So you keep holding on.
you keep holding on, for the sake of living.
you hold on for the sake of sanity.
you hold on for the fear of drowning,
into the deep blue sea.

A tribute to 4E

18/11/08.(yesterday)

The MA4's BIG TALENT SHOW.(I know that's really not the name but yea..xp)

At first, everyone was out of it.and I mean seriously.we were all VERY OUT OF IT..

*Sigh*

In the few early hours, even being after promoted to form 5E, chaos and emotions were high.In a not so good way.Last minute adjustments and reminders were drafted out, Arguments about morale and beliefs, and also about several significant but small details.

All this happened around 9 o'clock.

Wonder how we squeezed in all of those action packed fights and quarrelsome arguments in WHILE cleaning our new yet temporary classroom. ah.well. must be a talent of ours.

After taking care of that, a few selected few went into the audi for sound check and MORE last minute planning and discussion.Then, the moment came, when we would finally see either it was all worth it.All the stay-backs, the death of brain cells, the threat of laryngitis, the sleep lost to thoughts, the arguments proceeded and decisions wavered to and fro.
The moment of redemption over past performances, the high time of over-writing the past and turning a new leaf.

We were the second in line to perform.

On the stage, all were running amok, trying to set up the classroom scene. and even trying to locate the microphones.everybody was nervous,and most feared the repeat disastrous performance of Romeo and Juliet.Swearing was screamed under breath, and all thoughts were focused on getting through the play over and done with.

Quarter way through the play, nerves started to settle and it felt just like practice where it was just us.No audience, No Points, No photographers No judges.
It was just like when we were hanging out in our so called 'e-lit class' where we had our moments both good and bad, where wit and patience were threaded on.It felt like home.

Before I knew it, we were wrapping it up, with a very last minute ending.(xp "the end").
And soon three of the most releived people were at the back, giving hoots of encouragement and claps for all.

We were loud.clapping, laughing and also having a jolly good time.That felt good.Laughing and joking around at the back, watching other plays and listening intently to a certain pianist's song.*cough caroline shie cough*

As the back row squatters, watched other class plays, I started to guess the winners. (Of which I got right for only the 1st place winner). when it was the prize giving ceremony,(at the end lah tu) when they announced the name of the third place prize winner of $40. Jaws dropped, eyes popped and I couldn't help but released a startled shout. ("WHAT?!?!").

We won third place.

We couldn't beleive it..that they had to announce our class was in third place a second time.
That's when it sinked in.We really couldn't beleive it.Well, what at first was actually just a stepping stone for turning a new leaf,was a lead to actual triumph? Wow.

True we just got third place.But at that time, at that moment, for me, that was all I could've asked for.

And so I end this post with a rare gesture from me.

I would like to thank EVERYBODY in 4E.No matter what role they played.Either making props, dishing out ideas, lashing out opinions, acting out the parodies, sounding voices re-eminating through the audi, releasing sound effects and songs from the PA system.for without ALL of you. there would've been no show, No skit.No victory.

True, that others may think we don't deserve it really.but we got it right? we won.We did our best.and we triumphed.

We followed the rules.We played with our strength.We gave them what we had, with joy and determination.And THAT is probably the best reason why we shouldn't look back and ponder about on this date with negative thoughts.We Should look back at this play, this day, this moment with a sense of releif and joy.We made it through.

All of us.As a team.Not as individuals, but as a team.One big dysfunctional humorous clan of deranged friends.

and so this post is for you.
all this words I just wrote are for you.
My fellow classmates.
My friends.
Thank you.

The 'o' great one.

she sits by the window,
counting cars passing by,
sitting there warming her chair,
grin plastered onto place.

If you were to call her
she would turn her head
and look at you, with
a smile gracing her face.

lighting up the whole of her face,
her surroundings,
and others.

her infectious laugh
and lame jokes,
brings everybody joy.

though I don't think ... she knows.
that she is treasured, that people care.
that she doesn't need to prove anything
that she doesn't need to whole face.

no I don't think you know.

Acceptance.

It is not just smiling when everything's okay.
It is not just laughing over happy moments.
It is not just crying over fights.

It is not just missing the other.
It is not just mere infatuation.
It is not just feeling content.
It is not just feeling lost.

It is so much more than that.

It is acceptance of a whole.
It is patience, in the impossible situations.
It is wit, at the sharpest moments.
It is smile, in the inconsistency.
It is laughter, in the most worst scenario.
It is understanding, in the unbelievable.
It is honesty, through a lie.
It is truth, in the unfaithful.
It is soft, in the harshest environment.

It is there, even when gone.

It is to know you don't have a chance to make it through.

and yet.

hope against fate.

and yet.

still take the leap of faith.

and yet.

still understand the flaws.

and yet.

Love.

Love.
is knowing when to let go.
and accept it.

That is love, of which kind?
I do not know.

heroes season 3

I WAS SHOCKED.

A few questions running amok in my head... was..
Sylar's good?
Claire is going to be bad?
what does Claire mean she's always Loved Peter?
Nathan and Peter are related to Sylar??
huuhhhh???

O.o..

The Ice Queen.

She steps down Her throne; abruptly,
and whips around like wind,
the sound echoing in your mind.
She screams at you,
shouting your faults and blame,
making your eardrums burst.
you stare at Her mouth,
forming words with the wrong accent,
you smirk inwardly,for She lacked skill.
your face a blank,remains a blank
as She obliges you to
a slap; a resounding snap.
She towers with power,
brandishing blow by blow
with a warrior's scream; as if you were the enemy.
She stops,so you can breathe for regret,
so you can feel for remorse.
Then starts all over again.
you could taste iron,
breathing in the metal taste,you are
tempted to puke,and you do.She screams.
Her weapon, lethal in Her hand
hits you,physically scarring.
as She hovers above your remains,
She whispers in the air,with truth
and certainty.you shiver and kneel,
the whisper carried around in the night.
Her breathless comment,stops your breathing.
you finally feel something in you,
yet you gulp down the lump.
She turns and stalks Her way
to Her throne, and it is as before
with Her.you creep to your prison
and chain yourself with the chain.
And as you lay your head,
Her whispers haunt you,
wide awake in sleep,you lay there.
waiting for another day,

to start all over again-

Ah alack alack.I think I have a writer's block.

Tick Tock;

goes the clock.

She stares at it;
Hearing the beat.
Like a drum, playing beats
Plotting the way for melody to ensue.

All around her,are noise
so she focuses on the beat:
Swathing ways for her to think;
Through the chaos of her thoughts.

She smiles,her upper lip arching upwards
and teeth meeting the lower,
and chews on it hard; drawing out blood.

Ironic.

Inspiration hits her
and she visibly brightens,
typing a few words,
clicking away.

But:-
then she frowns, biting on her lips
again.her eyebrows rise above the
wavy line of her fringe.nose scrunched.
Mouth pursed in distaste.

She hits a few keys;then
laying back on her chair,
exasperated she sighs.
Unsatisfied.

again she slumps and stares,
at the clock.focusing on the beat,
closing in on it.Desperate;
to find a way out of the writer's block.

made on 3-11-2008 4 a.m.

The air was filled with a symphony at work,
it starts
at the wave of her pen,
The first few notes stream line out;
giving out a melody
awkward and soft,
Then comes the point,
where silence rules all.
her pen stops.
she puts the end to her mouth.
she can not taste the ink
slowly seeping
filling her mouth
lulling her senses
but no
what was once known was now unknown
No melody is heard,the beat lost;

for now-

what we don't need.

When did being broken become a good thing? I’ve noticed, recently, how many people are famous because they were broken people once and “fixed themselves”. Or how many books are about broken childhoods, how many people claim they care “about all of the broken people out there”.

They say it with tears running down their faces, but there is this smile on their face. Not a smile of peace or forgiveness, though. It is the same smile they use when they talk about their wife having a baby or their newest book.

If they only knew, they wouldn’t smile like that. But, perhaps, they would still cry. It wouldn’t matter if they did. We don’t need their tears.

New Blog New posts.

This is a new blog since my old blog is precurring such a long scene of being stubborn.I have resolved to a new (and hopefuly better) blog.:).as you may see.I posted old posts from my Other blog here.but after this post.I swear it'll all be new.ja mata.;)


yours truly
qeel

Beep.

White walls.White floor.
White door.White People.
A building filled with white.
Has a white room.

No Sunshine shone throught the shiny windows.
No sound of happiness could be heard.
No rumbles of laughter.
No Sight of a smile.

Just a monotone of a beep.
Weak,faint.but there.
Feeble and unstable.
There.

Annoying beep.
Inconsistent.
Irritable.
There.

The beep;a welcoming sound.

Tempted.

“What do you do when you’re standing on a precipice with nowhere to go but down? If I fall, if I surrender myself to the rain, the chill, the night… who will catch me?”

Faith in a friend.

Faith is nonsensical by nature, and foolhardy.
Faith is a belief that does not rest on logical proof, and until one understand that such is possible, one will never be able to move forward.
But faith in a friend, is not ridiculous.
Have Faith.

A hardcore romantic's Quotes.

You laugh because I'm different; I laugh because you're all the same

To the world your just one person but to one person you could mean the world

Our eyes are placed in front because it is more important to look ahead than to look back

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened

Everyone is entitled to be stupid but you are abusing that privilege

Did the sun just come out or did you just smile at me?

There's a light at the end of every tunnel, just pray it's not a train.

You know your in love when the hardest thing to say is goodbye.

Love is ... Running into his arms, Colliding with his heart, And exploding into his soul.

831-8 letters, 3 words, 1 meaning, I love you

Lust Is When You Love What You See. Love Is When You Lust For What's Inside

The "WHY" post.

"Why? WHY? WHY?!"

Ms Ani went on parade withe the "whys" today. She said by repeating the word signals the evergrowing anger or frustration.why ? why...? then she blabbered about something about the poem But I zoned out.

I don't know why. Ms Ani but I zoned out.

My imagination went overdrive (questions and answers popped into my brain) :

Why is he repeating "wherefore"?
Coz he ran out of other fancy words to stun the world with.

Why do you talk w/o thinking?
Coz all of my Brain Cells are denatured.

Why are you grinning?
Coz my sanity is still missing

Why aren't you thinking?
Like I said MY BRAIN CELLS ARE DEAD.

Why was he rebellious?
Coz he wanted to be an emo.but back then they didn't have spikes and mascara for guys.

Why are you snickering?
Coz I can make that sound seem more sinister.

Why are you all smiling?
Coz we want you to run out of our classroom like a madwoman.

Why are you all groaning?
Coz we can see a pole jutting out of your butt.

and many more. indecent.remarks.

A/n: Okay.I am seriously tempted to make a new "why" post.