"You had me at hello."

Jerry Maguire this afternoon. Never realised how good-looking Tom Cruise is! Course, I was more interested in Jonathan Lipnicki's Ray. So cute. And ah, that line:

"You complete me."

Anyway. ANYWAY. Chemistry tomorrow. But I've been possessed with manic energy again, ever since I got back from dinner and watched MTV's 5 Things You Need to Know about Mika. MIKA MIKA MIKA MIKA! So here's the 5 things (I took notes):

1. He likes white shoes. He has 48 pairs.
2. He has an obsession with toys. He has lots of them. LOTS.
3. He's a fussy tea drinker. Right temperature, right kinda tea, right kind of water.
4. He has a pilot's licence. Not sure can believe this though. He said he flew with John Travolta (who does have a pilot's licence).
5. The most famous person's number he has on his mobile is....MICHEAL JACKSON! Oh man! Grace is so gonna love this when she gets back!

They played 5 videos during the show:

1. It's Oh So Quiet - Bjork
(heard this song for the first time from Azlan's iPod. Great video too ;)

2. Loser - Beck
(this has got to be the worst motivational song ever: "I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me)

3. Gold Lion - The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
(CHECK OUT this video. Super cool. Wish I can smash guitars like that.)

4. When Doves Cry - Prince

5. Grace Kelly - Mika

Have you ever had boundless energy like that before? When thoughts start racing round your head, you sing loudly - and usually off-key - for no reason, dance like an idiot, babbling nonstop when people ask you stop because they don't understand what you're saying and you're so very happy that you just want to throw open your arms wide and scream to anyone: "I LOVE THIS WORLD!"?

I have. Am feeling like this now. Trying to wind down and get back to Chemistry.

The Chemistry textbook has very funny rhymes at the beginning of each chapter. Such as:

So many carbon compounds with their infinite variety!
To have to learn their names is surely reason for anxiety.
It might be hopeless if our naming methods were erratic,
But nomenclature rules are simple - and quite systematic.

That, my friend, was the rhyme for the chapter on organic compounds. Once I started reading the chapter, however, I found that it wasn't very funny at all.

You know. I have such a terrible sense of humour. Ooo, the Senses Taker - census taker, ha! - can't take that away from me!

The Phantom Tollbooth! Love it love it love it - best book I've read this month so far. I read the entire book yesterday; it was THAT unputdownable. Better than eating chocolate. Better than kissing. *kicks heels in delight* Better than watching Matt on MTV. Better than listening to Rice singing how he wants to kill himself.

I'm trying to keep some thoughts out of my mind. I'm not manic - in psychological terms, no - just restless. And trying to keep some thoughts out of my mind. Because if I didn't, I'd be really disappointed and demoralized right now. I can be that low, but I'm not giving myself a chance to.

*a mood swing is on the way*

Sylvia Plath's thoughts on growing up because is it me, or is everyone starting to get a bit emo right now?:

After being conditioned as a child to the lovely never-never land of magic, of fairy queens and virginal maidens, of little princes and their rosebushes, of poignant bears and Eeyore-ish donkeys, of life personalized, as the pagans loved it, of the magic wand, and the faultless illustrations - the beautiful dark-haired child (who was you) winging through the midnight sky on a star-path in her mother's box of reels - of Griselda in her feather cloak, walking barefoot with Cuckoo in the lantern-lit world of nodding mandarins, of Delight in her flower garden with the slim-limbed flower sprites, of the Hobbit and the dwarves, gold-belted with blue and purple hoods, drinking ale and singing of dragons in the caverns of the valley - all this I knew, and felt, and believed. All this was my life when I was young. To go from this to the world of "grown-up" reality. To feel the tender skin of sensitive child-fingers thickening to feel the sex...To feel the sex organs develop and call loud to the flesh; to become aware of school, exams (the very words as unlovely as the sound of chalk shrilling on the blackboard), bread and butter, marriage, sex, compatibility, war, economics, death and self. What a pathetic blighting of the beauty and reality of childhood. Not to be sentimental, as I sound, but why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?...

Loss of innocence.

I asked for a swing for my first birthday. Odd, innit? Then when I was eight or nine, I asked for a whiteboard because I said I wanted to be a teacher. I wonder what happened to that.

Why do things always look so simple when you're younger and you don't know much about what people call "reality"?

It's quite...sad...when you think about it. To think we - I - had all those hopes when I was younger, only to be told, when you're older, that those hopes are "just dreams".

Just that. Dreams.

I say sod off and die.