Blah and Easter eggs

MY LIFE...as of now, 20th april

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    You, you idiot
    You treat me well while alone
    You don't see me otherwise
    Anything suggestive is only circumstance,
    Anything celebratory is solvent in sense.
    You suck big time
    But who is there to blame
    A friend? of whom which
    expectations and obligations
    are there to choose from?
    giddy headed with admirers
    I cannot blame her weakness.
    Him, can i blame him
    A friend? of whom which
    Strange and estranged,
    Rude, coarse and polite
    Insensitive or blunt
    Blatant or explicit
    characteristic would it be?
    friend, or flirtatious user.
    Circuitous lust
    begets lust redirected, begets
    misery.
/
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Disclaimer: that wasnt a poem. i don't(cant?) do poetry. My friend Yen does poetry, and she does it unbelievably well. The kind you read and understand, the smooth sharp kind that translates its meaning by words, instead of attempts at words. I'm doing a page on her stuff, and eventually it will materialise. :) Patience will prevail. no one else can stand the wait. haha. sorry.
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    The indented thing above, like i said, wasn't poetry. i know better than to call it that. don't know what that makes it then, call it a cryptic translation of a personal matter. Isn't it intriguing. bleah. don't figure it out if u don't know what im talking about. It makes me damn confused.
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    The holidays are over now. :) as earlier predicted, didn't do much by the way of work. heheh. its tempting to say that the week 'went by so fast', but shan't. cos its a cliché, but mostly cos it didn't so much go-by-quickly as happened all at once. I slept and awoke with utter disregard to the time, now, night happens at 5.30pm, i starved, i overate, i learnt to play pool, i got sick in the throat. the week-long whirlwind of wanton weariness. Im glad school's starting again. Order has its place, like there is no creativity without boundaries. Without restriction, its all just so much rubbish. either that, or pure creation. But its probably safe to say that privilege belongs solely to God, as it is.
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   Im rambling i think. Don't really know exactly what to write about this time, just felt like typing out something...there're so many emails that've collected over the past days, im too tired to answer them, too tired to read the papers too. I just want chicken porridge. Yum yum. Shall approach my long-suffering mother/cook later. I also want a pool table. So i can practise and get so good at it i can show off and act hip. lemme tell you what i want, in no particular order:
    1. a pool table
    2. to see Beck live
    3. a sony playstation with VCD add-ons
    4. a mutual attraction
    5. a talking hamster
    6. an entire winter wardrobe from dkny/cK
    7. my old figure back
    8. some answers, to the weirdness that is my present life, and the chem tutorial i haven't done.
    9. a delightful singing voice
10. chocolate chip cookies. the soft kind.

I tried a pina colada the other day, i cant remember when, the entire past 7 days(ie. nights) are, in memoriam, blended in with each other and somewhat indistinguishable. Anyway, the pina colada was nice stuff. It made me red, since i cant handle alcohol so great, but it was nice. Like baileys is nice and smooth, but i prefer the haagen daaz ice cream flavour. :) maybe its just the thrill of knowing its sinfully bad for you, that makes the liqueur more enticing than the Obviously nicer ice cream. hyuk.
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Right. here's something to write about. Sometime before easter, i came across these 'easter eggs'..not the kind you eat, these are like little 'bonuses' in software programs. Something about the programmers leaving their mark in the software. Like you might remember the one that got massmailed some time ago, the evil satanic one in MS Excel? there's more~! heh. some are quite cool. I'll list some here, and there are urls on the stuff.
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Windows 95
- Right-click on the desktop
- Select New folder, name it "and now, the moment you've all been waiting for" (minus "s)
- Right-click on the folder, Re-name it "we proudly present for your viewing pleasure"
- Rename again, to "The Microsoft Windows 95 Product Team!"
- Open the folder. See the names float past. not very exciting, but fun enough. :)
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Microsoft Excel (i like this one)
- Create a new workbook
- press F5 and enter X97:L97 and click OK
- press the Tab key once
- hold down Ctrl and Shift and click on the Chart Wizard button on the toolbar
- you should get a flight simulator game, left mouse button to accelerate fwds, and the right mouse buttons to slow down, then move bkwrds. moving the mouse forwards makes u dive, while backwards makes you climb. There's also a flat mound of grey stone which has the developer's names scrolling on it.
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Word 95 and 97 (i cant get this one to work, maybe you can)
- Open a blank document and type the word 'Blue'
- Select the word, go to the Format menu, select Bold and change the font colour to Blue
- Click OK and insert one space after the word Blue.
- Go to the Help menu, click About and click on the MSword logo in the upper left corner
- A pinball game is supposed to appear. Use the Z and M keys to control the flippers.
- press ESC when done.
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Some urls with more of this stuff:
The Easter Egg Archive
The Easter Egg Page
Hacker's guide to Navigator
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Right, they're fun things to do if u're bored enough. :) right now, im tired and hungry. my brain's zombiefied so i'll be smart and leave it here. To those people to whom i owe mail, patience is the key...eventuality is almost a certainty. apologies et all. and to Darren, Happy Birthday you poor little sexually deprived boy! now you can drive!!! and Drink! and go Zouk! and pick up cheo bus who'll nurse your ego while u drive them around in your various cool cars...not to mention your dear friends....(hint hint)
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On the quest for the perfect cookie,
Till next time/space/6th dimension,
Don't forget me.
/

Here's something Yen wrote, for you to read first.

The scream gathers in you,
a kaleidoscope of violent vomit colour,
harsh echoes scraping raw the throat
and searing the chambers of the heart:
this storm of blackness, roaring to break
free of the skyseams and hurl the waves
against the smooth implacable rock faces.

Nailed to the crucifix of your yellow
walls you whimper, lick your blood, moan
for an anodyne and an end: the blessed
relief of supernova. The silent swollen
tamped-down rage breaks the white spaces
on the knife''s edge of sanity.

Brilliant innit?